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] You are a dragon-slayer who lost his arms with only one reclusive dragon left to kill in all the land. How will you complete this task?	[ "Rumbling, deep down within the cave, shook the stalactites and stalagmites at its entrance, rattling the teeth of the cave. The tremor grew and grew, threatening to collapse the entrance, and then ceased.\n\nThe last dragon exhaled.\n\n.\n\nThe road to the cavern was nearly non-existent, merely the suggestion of a shallower slope approaching the gaping hollow. The knight clambered off its horse, gently patting her neck.\n\n\"We're nearly there,\" it murmured from beneath its visor, with a voice that could have been a gruff woman or a lightly-spoken man. \"Nearly there indeed. One left to go.\"\n\nThe knight approached on foot, leaving the steed behind. The road was long, dusk had settled when the knight stood at the entrance of the cave, a hazy silhouette against the yellowing horizon, or a glinting beacon against a black mouth, depending on your perspective.\n\nThe knight appeared to collect itself, then dragged itself forward. It seemed reluctant to advance.\n\nDeeper and deeper it delved, so far and for so long that it could have been dawn by the time the cave opened out a little, into a nearly empty chamber. Nearly empty, that it, except the dragon.\n\nThe knight pulled a rock up with difficulty and sat down so that the eye of the dragon was parallel its own. It waited.\n\nRumbling, again. The knight had felt it on the way down. Shaking, terrible shaking, and fear. Fear unlike fear it had known before.\n\nThe dragon exhaled, and awoke.\n\nYou have found me.\n\nThe knight didn't move. \"You didn't make it easy.\"\n\nAnd why should I have?\n\n\"I found something. Something since I killed you brother.\"\n\nAnd what did you find, brave knight?\n\n\"A little knowledge and perspective I did not have before,\" the knight sighed. \"I did not know you could think.\"\n\nMaybe you didn't want to.\n\n\"Maybe. It doesn't matter now. You are the last, you know.\"\n\nI know.\n\n\"Of course you do. I assume you also know why I'm here.\"\n\nHow can I know that if even you do not?\n\nThe knight did not respond.\n\nThe dragon waited, and slowly drifted back to sleep.\n\n\"If I had known I wouldn't have done any of this, you know,\" the knight finally responded.\n\nI know.\n\n\"You know how I found out? How I came to know?\"\n\nThis I do not know.\n\nThe knight shifted uncomfortably, striving in vain to find a comfortable position on the rock in the plate armour it wore.\n\n\"As I killed him, he took something from me. In his death throes he told me something. Said...he said he felt sorry for me. So he spoke. To tell me that it was alright. That he forgave me,\" the knight grasped its shoulder. \"He took my arm and apologised.\"\n\nThat was a greater kindness than you deserved.\n\n\"How could you say that?\" the knight stood up, screaming, the first true emotion it showed except exhaustion.\n\nThe dragon seemed nonplussed.\n\n\"I mean...I could have walked home. Thinking I had slayed a monster. Thinking nothing more of the act. I could have come back a hero.\"\n\nBut...?\n\n\"But...he spoke. Every dragon I killed could speak. All the dragons could speak. And I killed them,\" the knight slumped backwards. \"You know, I've never killed a person. Hardly even hurt a person. And now I find out, after all this time, that's what i was doing.\"\n\nThat is true. So what are you going to do about it?\n\nThe knight stared up at the unseen ceiling of the chamber.\n\n\"End this. One way or another, today, something is going to end.\"\n\nShe took off her helmet - and now it was obvious that it was a she - and drew her sword, with difficulty.\n\nSo this is it? The last dragon dies?\n\n\"Maybe. Or maybe not,\" she swung the sword a few times, unused to one armed combat. \"Or maybe the last dragon slayer dies. In the way only a dragon slayer can.\"\n\nThere was silence.\n\nDo the people know their saviour is a woman?\n\nThe knight snorted. \"They know nothing about me. I come into town, waltz up to the throne, put on a bit of a gruff accent and drop a scaly head at the feet of some chinless wonder. Then I get paid, stay for a day and wander off to find the next one. I don't know if the people would care, but the knights would. Think they're the gatekeepers of honour and virtue and sticking swords in things. Don't have to be a man to wear a big helmet and only appear in town for two days at a time.\"\n\nThe knight placed the sword against the motionless dragon's iridescent - even in the gloom of the cave - chest, and hesitated.\n\nWhy hesitate? I have nothing to live for and you will have completed your life's quest. The last dragon will die.\n\n\"Why do you want to die? You seemed to make an effort of avoiding me for the past few months.\"\n\nThat was before I knew I was truly the last. Before I heard it from the executioner's mouth.\n\nA tear sped down the knight's face, as she leaned on the sword.\n\nHas the headsman forgot how to swing? Finish it!\n\nScreaming, she plunged the sword deep into the dragon's breast.\n\nThe dragon exhaled its last.\n\nThe knight dropped to her knees. She raised her sword to her stomach, and the song of the death of the last dragon went unsung.", "With a groan I open my eyes to the bright lights. A soft beeping beside me lets me know I'm still living. The pain killers slowly begin to burn away as my mind begins to remember. roasting meat, the heat of the flames, standing in its gaping maw. I had done it. \n\n\"Its over now,\" I speak in a hoarse whisper, even the simple act of speaking hurts. Though a nearby nurse notices the new noise and rushes over. She looks at me, \"Mr Malcom do you know what happened? Do you remember?\" \n\nI give a slow nod and pain coarses through my body, I force myself to stifle the scream. \"Is it dead?\" I ask struggling to breathe.\n\nShe nods slowly. \"It is. Many believe it to be the last one.\" \n\nSighing contently I watch her walk from the room. Rushing to tell the doctors I was awake no doubt. Shame I wouldn't be for long.\n\nHumanity had suffered long enough at my kinds hands. With the little magic I still possessed I formed an air pocket into the IV running into my chest and watched it flow down forced into my body. \n\nI closed my eyes murmering for noone to hear, \"No, now the last of us is gone.\" ", "There is only one left now, That's One too many. \n \nThat was my first thought as I jolted upright in the medics tent, well attempted to jolt upright. I immediately keeled over and fell to the ground, trying to catch myself I realised something horrific. My arms weren't there to catch me. \n \ncrash \n \nThe orderly came in hearing the clatter looked at me lying awkwardly on the floor in some small amount of agony and remarked in the way all orderlys do \"awake now are we Mr. Hero? Don't waste all those hours the doctors did by ripping those stitches now\" she helped me back into bed and I gave myself a quick one over. \n \nLeft arm gone from the shoulder, shame I was left handed. Right arm gone from just below the elbow. That last dragon did a number on me before its brain realised its heart had stopped, now, how to kill this last one. \n \nKnowing is half the battle, and lucky for me I knew where this one had made its lair. Unfortunately I'd have a hard time getting there as it was halfway up a bloody mountain, and killing it would be something else now I don't have anything to swing a sword with. \n \nOnce I was let out of the tent, I searched for my assistant (he hated the word sidekick) found him sitting at a bar bagging about his exploits with the now late, me. I sat down beside him with some difficulty and said \"lend us a hand would ya mate?\" it got some laughs from the sniggering drunk populace of the bar. It got wide eyes and a gasp from him. \n \n\"thought you were dead guv\" he blurted looking for the nearest exit. He wasn't going to get away that easily, bugger had my money bad. \"Alright son, the first thing your doing is going to the smithy with me and seeing if he can strap a blade on this stump. We need something to slay this last beast, after that we need to find some way of scaling a near unscaleabe mountain with no hands, got your work cut out for you kid\" The poor boy looked baffled \"you mean you aren't giving up on this?\" \n\"no\" I replied \"its my job as the hero to kill al lithe damn dragons, and I'm not giving up at the last minute because I lost some pansy arms\" he sighed, resigned in the fact I'd bloody well whoop him if he didn't help, even without my arms. \n \nWe Traveled through the town looking for the best smithy in town, he had the flu, so we settled on the second best. He looked my grizzled self up and down \"can't be done\" he said to me \"why not? Pirates have them hooks for hands, and sticks for legs, why can't I have a sword for an arm? Why can't it be done?\" the smithy looked at me and I thought to myself, we are going to do this the hard way then aren't we. \n \nTwo hours later, which is considerable speed for a man with a freshly broken leg, I checked out the \"arm\"aments the sword set onto my right stump was of decent quality and I doubt I'd lose it anytime soon, the smithy was so kind after some encouragement to bolt a basic shield set-up onto my other arm, like a really oversized pauldron. I looked a small sized siege engine. \n \nAs I walked with the lad back to camp, I knew how that thing was going to die", "He warily watched, eyes sharp and senses flaring, as the dragon circled their wagon train. While some men might be scared, he felt alive. He was fighting the odds more than ever and that was exactly what he wanted.\n\nThis was his entire life's work. Ever since he was a young lad, he had strived to end the infestation of the bloody beasts in their lands, from the greatest of all to the youngest most harmless creature. They were a heartless species, bound only on pillaging villages and eating livestock -- a leech on the pure society of humanity! So he trained, learning their villainous ways, finding their whereabouts, accumulating some trustworthy friends. \n\nHe thought it was over when he slayed the legendary Vyera in the spring, ending her life in a battle of epic proportions. He probably could've chose a location for their duel that would've caused less damage to civilization, but it was such an incredible boost to his reputation! Everyone saw him besting the mythical creature -- oh, what a rush it was! After landing arrow after arrow, slash after slash, the beast, mortally injured, tried to fly away, but crashed down in a field just outside of the town. When he stood above the dying dragon, finally about to fulfill his lifelong of destroying their deadly race, his hubris got the best of him as he stood, flaunting his sword and making an impressive spectacle for the crowd; right before he made his final jab into the beast's eyes, at once, the dragon, with one last burst of energy, snapped at his body in an impossibly quick movement. Rather than stab her eyes, he found himself elbow deep in the dragon's mouth, sword buried in the upper part of her mouth. In pain, the dragon tore away from him, and, well, the rest wasn't pretty.\n\nIn the end, he still bested the last of the dragons, and he was ecstatic. His job was done and he was content to live out the rest of his days as a national legend. \n\nBut, then the news came out of one last dragon, camped out in the isolated hills in the north, who had been terrorizing incoming traders on the royal roads. He did not take the news well. He went from a state of bliss to a feeling of constant sadness -- no longer would he be the most successful dragon-slayer in the world, the one who had finally cleared the lands of their plague, but instead he would be the one who almost slayed them all! And there was no way to remedy this situation; after all, he couldn't slay a cat, let alone a dragon, in his current state! \n\nOr so he thought. As he wallowed in his self-pity, sunk to his bottom of bottoms, he suddenly found inspiration. His closest friend, who had been by his side for many of his battles (though he himself insisted on actually slaying all the beasts), continually tried to cheer him up, bringing him good food, wine, and women. But, when nothing worked, he took to berating and lecturing. This continually did no good and, as the dragon-slayer lay there, limbless and witless, his friend finally snapped, yelling, \"Please sit here and do nothing while innocent people are out there dying! Just don't expect me not to poison you in your sleep!\"\n\nThat offhanded comment set his train in motion. Literally. And now, two weeks later, here he was, one last time, fully armored, staring down the final beast on his long fatal bucket list. \n\nThe plan was simple. If he couldn't kill it with his physical skill, then he would exert his mental dominance. They were marching towards the top border of the country, posing as merchants, complete with a wagon train, but, instead of the regular meat goods that the dragon had been stealing, the meats were seasoned in a rare scentless poison. Just a handful of the deadly powder would kill a full team of horses. The dragon would fly over, eat the meat, and then die a slow painful death that befit a creature of his nature. \n\nThough wearing armor was not necessary, he could not think of facing this beast in any other outfit. As the dragon landed near their wagons, the hired crew scattering as directed, he and his friend shared a grim glance -- they knew what needed to happen. The dragon leaned towards the carts, opened its mouth to eat the meat, and then...\n\nDisaster! The dragon exhaled fire all over the carts, engulfing the trap in flames. The dragon flapped its wings, fanning the flames as they spread across all the wagons, creating a train of fire through the hills. As the hired men continued to scatter, the dragon turned from side to side, spewing flames over anything that moved, creating endless chaos. \n\nHe knew what to do. He had to stop this beast. If it wouldn't eat the meat, well, then, he would just have to get the powder into the dragon in another way. He began to dash towards the carts, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. \n\n\"You'll get yourself killed!\" His friend shouted into his ear, struggling to be heard over the pandemonium around them. \n\nHe turned to his friend, and, with a look of exuberance on his face, he screamed, \"They won't call me a dragon-slayer. They will call me The Dragon-Slayer!\"\n\nHe ran over to one of the burning carts, stuck his head into the meat, and took a big mouthful of the poisonous food. The man without limbs faced off with the dragon, a huge smile on his face, and ran at the beast, screaming the screams of a man with no fears. In one motion, the dragon scorched the man with fire, bent over, and swallowed him whole.\n\n\n" ]	4
	[WP] "What does it feel like." "What. Immortality?"	[ "The man stared at me long and hard after I asked him the question. His cold eyes scoured me, as if judging me to be worthy of the information he was about to bestow on me. But no words came, not for what felt like forever.\n\nFinally, he settled back into his throne and let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes. \"You aren't the first to ask me. And you won't be the last.\" He calmly let out, the surrounding torches illuminating his face in an orange glow and casting a shadow over his eyes in his new position. He looked intimidating, though I guess that should be expected of a king. From the rocky stairs leading to his seat I waited, adjusting my rucksack as the silence slowly killed me. \n\n\"It feels like death.\" He finally said, his words frigid. He opened his eyes and gazed down at me, the whites of them barely visible in their shadows. \"It feels like being condemned to an eternity of dying over and over again.\" He spoke again, his speech heavy and burdened. \"I've outlived everyone. Everyone I have ever loved. Everyone I have ever called a friend. Everyone I have cared about.\" His gaze did not waver from my own. \"You know what that feels like, yes? Now try to imagine that pain over and over. Endlessly. You know but one war. I have known hundreds.\"\n\nThe king lurched forward, pushing himself upwards from the crooked throne. Bricks and stone shook beneath his movement, but it didn't not bother him. He stood, his tall, powerful stature backlit by the torches, casting a wide shadow over me. I instinctively took a small step backwards at his movement. He merely kept his frown, and gestured to the makeshift chamber around us. \n\n\"Do you know why I am worthy of being this king here? Of being the leader?\" He paused. I wasn't sure if he wanted an answer - I wasn't sure what to say even if he did. I merely shook my head. \"Because I shoulder the burden of billions of people. I hold onto that everyday. I know what I've done - I am a monster. I carry that burden as well, because I would have no one else carry it in my place. This world is ash and dust. I have caused that, because I knew that I could carry the weight of rebuilding it. Being an eternal, I will build it back up. And if required, I will knock it down again, and watch as billions of people die because of my actions. I take no pleasure in it.\" He took a step down from the throne's platform, his scruffy boots kicking up dust which was illuminated in the torchlight. He took another step down and I involuntarily knelt at his approach, as I had been taught.\n\n\"Stand, boy.\" He commanded in a soft tone. I scrambled to heed the words, and got to my feet as he reached the bottom of the stairs. \"Do not think that I let those people die in vain - I carry them with me all the time. Be thankful you did not have to make that decision.\" He reached out and rested a hand on my shoulder, and I gazed up at him. For a second I saw his hardened face turn soft, tears in his eyes. But in the next instant they were powerful and commanding once more. \"It feels like death everyday. I can't change that. But you can make sure that no one else feels that way. We have a job to do.\" \n\nHe started walking, and I kept pace with him, holding onto the loose strap of my rucksack to stop it from falling. We stepped out of the chamber, the sunlight burning my eyes as they struggled to adjust. I reached up and covered them as the king squeezed my shoulder tenderly before letting go. He slowly walked ahead of me, his tattered cloak trailing behind him, picking up dust from the ruination around him. A couple waved at him from a hut they were building out of jagged stones and charred metal and he merely nodded in return.\n\nI adjusted my rucksack once more and let out a soft sigh, admiring the destruction surrounding us, then followed, running to catch up.", "\"Time? Immortals do not know the concept. You rattle around in your 9-5s, you live for the weekend and upset when it ends to early. What is time to immortals? You gauge success by how many years you lived. You have social constructs that encourage staying young forever. Your life is consumed with time, and the lack thereof. How can I even begin to describe how immortality would feel like to you? Do you think it is fun to never die? Too see all that you created wiped out before you, and mock you? No, there are no \"feelings\" for immortals, the only feeling we have is regret.\"", "\"What does it feel like?\"\n\nI blinked, distracted for a moment from blissful eternity. Miranda was looking at me, as she always did, with those big, wondering blue eyes, the question shining through like a beacon. I smiled. \"What, immortality?\"\n\nMiranda's mouth shaped itself into a perfect little O, so I could hear her little gasp of wonder all the better. \"Is that what it's like?\" she whispered, \"Immortality?\"\n\nI chuckled a little. Ah, Miranda. My little princess. I sat up on the hill of our backyard and patted my knee. Like a puppy, my daughter scampered over and sat in my lap. I pointed up at the stars. \"You see that, Miranda?\"\n\nObedient, she gazed upwards. \"The sky?\"\n\n\"No,\" I said softly, \"the universe. There is so much out there, so much that we'll never see. But that's okay, because we live with the opportunity to imagine it all. Like - look at that!\"\n\nI pointed up at the moon, and my little girl poked her finger up there with mine to see better. \"The moon?\"\n\n\"Yeah. What's on the moon, Miranda? Rocks? Dust?\"\n\nShe stared at the glowing orb in the sky, thought etched across her face. I waited patiently, until finally: \"Light. There's light on the moon.\"\n\nI smiled as Miranda turned her little head to look at me with confidence in her decision. \"There, you see? Light on the moon. Not everyone would say that.\" I poked her nose and told her, \"You imagined it.\"\n\nMiranda laughed and rubbed her nose. \"So it's imagining...and that's immortality?\"\n\nI chuckled. Oh, my little girl... \"I guess you could say that,\" I said softly. \"I feel immortal, because I can imagine you'll grow up to be the most beautiful, talented, intelligent girl in the world.\"\n\n\"Yeah! And it'll happen! You'll see.\"\n\nI smiled. \"I know that it'll happen, sweetheart, because you're the most beautiful, talented, intelligent girl in the world right now. And that's all I need to know.\"", "\"What does it feel like?\"\n\n\"What? Immortality?\"\n\n\"Huh? ... No! How would that even make sense? 'How does it feel to be alive?' ... 'Uh... Okay, I guess?' No,\" the stranger chuckled awkwardly and scanned nearby people as if assessing their wardrobes. Of course, he couldn't have been doing that because everybody wore the same thing. \"I mean, how does it feel to know that you're alive and well and famous and all because so many innocent people died painfully?\" \n\n\"I'm sorry, I don't...\" Jacobs slipped a card into his book, and closed it. The heavy tome made a thud that resounded like a gavel. From across the marble, one member of his security detail gave him a questioning look, and gestured toward the stranger. Jacobs shook his head.\n\nThe stranger was glaring at him, face red, hand hidden in the folds of a too-big leather jacket. Most likely armed. Probably a sidearm, standard issue for civilians during the war, by best guess. \"Okay, okay. Look. It wasn't my choice...\"\n\n\"BULLSHIT!\" There was a flinch of the stranger's elbow. It was a small, subconsciously-driven response to a secret impulse kept poorly guarded in the mind of somebody clearly about to come unhinged. \"My father was at La Sangre, thrown into that red river to be dissolved and...\" He briefly looked away, ashamed of the tears welling up in his eyes, but found his rage again and squared his shoulders with Jacobs'. \"I lost everything! My parents, my siblings, my friends, my girlfriend. The Kang Pao even killed my damn cat!\" \n\n\"I'm...\"\n\n\"What? Sorry? You have to be fucking kidding me.\" The stranger shook his head and scoffed, \"You're sorry?!\" Anybody with a day in practice could tell that his tone would become more hysterical, and whatever he clutched in the folds of that worn and faded leather seemed to grow more insistent of its own accord as well. \"Billions died, Jacobs! BILLIONS! Have you let that sink in? We all pay for the war, so why the hell do you come out of it better off while the rest of us get rations and security beatings?\"\n\n\"No. You know what?\" Jacobs grinned as he stood. Even when he drew to his full height, he was still the least imposing figure in the room. Nobody would feel intimidated by such a tiny scrap of man without knowing who he was, but his candid confidence was unmistakable. \"I'm not sorry.\"\n\nThe stranger looked like he had been slapped. Shock gives way to either reconsideration or outrage. \"Hey, everybody! Did you know that Jacobs' wife survived? His daugther? His mother? His siblings? Did you know that he was given a home up the hill?\" For the stranger, apparently it seemed like a good day for outrage. \"That's right! We have to eat shit, and he gets genetic duty.\" He looked back to Jacobs, smirking, \"We get to plow the fields while you fuck models to repopulate.\"\n\n\"NOW HOLD IT!\" Great. Security had decided it was time to intervene. \"Citizen, show me your hands! NOW!\"\n\nJacobs' grin vanished, as he rushed to position himself between the two. \"No, no, let me...\" It was too late. The stranger had already turned to meet his challenger, just another faceless clonebob who was closing the distance between them with grave purpose.\n\n\"Hey, we're just talking! You can't get us for talking! Do you know who this is?\" At least the stranger still smirked. Maybe he'd only be antagonistic. Maybe he'd only get a few years for insubordination. \n\n\"Soldier! Let me handle this!\" Jacobs held his hand up, addressing security formally to cut through the confusion with command presence. \"This civilian is in a grieving period, and per statute two-one-four-dot-gamma...\"\n\nToo late. The stranger's magic trick was revealed as he tried to pull a tragedy out of his jacket. When his elbow and upper arm swung on an arc that indicated a weapon was being drawn, the security clonebob perceived it faster than any genetically non-normalized citizen could have even had the thought. \n\nState hall acoustics were engineered to work like an amphitheater within an amphitheater, within amphitheaters, with electronic enhancement to boot. The shots were deafening, and when it was over, the stranger lie in a puddle of the red stuff. Later, people would scrutinize the security tapes to debate about whether the shooting was in self defense, and whether the clonebob should be decommissioned. \n\n\"Sir, are you okay?\" \n\nJacobs looked the grunt in the eye, and grinned ear to ear. \"No. I'm really not.\"\n\nHe knelt to retrieve the civilian's weapon. He expected the standard issue pistol, a shiv, or some homebrew explosives, but instead he found that the deceased stranger's hand maintained a death clutch on something far more valuable. A man stood in the center of the portrait, wearing a standard agricultural uniform, surrounded by a beautiful woman and a clan of little people unlike any seen since the ceasefire. The perfect picturesque prewar family unit. Jacobs' grin vanished for a second, but came back full effect, all brightness and cheer. \"No, soldier,\" he said as he began to laugh from the belly, \"I'm really fucking not. Go back to your post.\"\n\nWhen the clonebob wandered off, Jacobs whispered to the stranger. He hoped that somehow a dim, flickering vestige of consciousness remained to hear. \"You didn't let me finish. I'm not sorry. I'm going to destroy it all.\" He held his grin like a climber grips the edge of a cliff, lest the clonebobs detect an emotional state not befitting a judge. \"I only need to get a little closer, and I will kill every single one of them. Rest, friend. You don't leave a hopeless world.\"", "\"Yes.\"\n\nHe sighed and leaned forward, dumping his ash into the mouth of his empty beer and flashed his eyes up to hers.\n\nShe was searching earnestly for an answer and wanted the truth. Her hands were clasped on her knees and her neck and shoulders tensed. Her gaze was demanding, but he met her eyes with ease, and the question hung between them until she shifted them sideways and dropped back in her chair in a feigned indifference.\nBut he had studied people for a long time, and he knew by the slight rise and fall of her knee, the minute workings of her lower jaw, the clenching of her pinky, just her pinky, to her outer thigh...\nShe believed him, and wanted to know the truth.\n\n\"Well..\" he began.\nShe perked up, to his great satisfaction.\n\"For a long time it was exhilarating. But the moment it came to me that my daydreams and fancies had become reality is an acute memory. I came to my wife and hugged her hips from behind while she traced those emerald eyes in the mirror.\n\n\"I was older than her, enough so,\" he chuckled \"that her parents didn't quite approve of the union.\"\nHe dumped his ash again and glanced up, seeing her impatience.\n\"I looked at her eyes and saw bags and lines from her countless smiles, and spots appearing on her jaw and neck. I saw her eyes were tired and beside them I saw my own. I looked the same, not just as every man does in his mind's eye, but no, I had not changed in 15 years. Not a hair less, not a wrinkle more. I thought back to the dream I had...\"\n\n\"What dream?\"\n\n\"A strange dream, but not in the amorphous absuridty of normal dreams. strange in its reality, in its tangibility.\"\n\nHe changed his mind.\n\"Five years later, when I knew for sure, I left her.\"\n\n\"You did?\"\n\n\"I had to. It was the only way and I am sure she never understood but i think its better than if she had.\"\n\n\"Then what?\"\n\n\"Well for a long time I traveled. By horse, then steamship - Oh you can't imagine the pomp when the steamships came! Then there were wars. Terrible things, some worse than others, but I was never tested. Cars, planes, amazing places...\"\n\nHe caught himself staring away at the library books around him.\n\"I loved many people, and I have found in all my experience that love is the greatest joy there is to hold.\"\n\n\"Well then you must have the most joy on Earth!\"\n\n\"I believe I do have had the most joy on this planet of ours,\" he said thoughtfully. \n\n\" Abby..\"\nSHe looked at him intently.\n\n\"Do you remember when you were young, say 5 or 6, and the days seemed endless. Whole kingdoms were conquered and ruled over, forts erected, weddings and marriages to royals had, all in the span of an afternoon?\"\n\n\"of course,\" she giggled excitedly. \"Such sillyness,\" she added, embarassed.\n\n\"And then slowly you had that feeling of 'where did my week go?' How did summer end so quickly? This, I imagine, was about 14 or 15.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And now you think five years ago was really ten, or 15?\"\nShe didn't answer.\n\n\"I have had a lot of joy Abby, but each year or five seems a moment to me now. And I have had the singular displeasure of having to part with more loved ones than anyone that thas ever been. Love is the greatest joy there is, but lost love, I have found, we feel tenfold to joy.\"\nHe was no longer reading the cues he knew so well, the minute movements that allowed him to peer into the feelings of anyone around him.\n\n\"With each closeness I have felt, there is a profound sadness, and even when you stack all this little joys together, you can no longer even hope to glance the limit of my loneliness.\"\nShe was crying now, and put her hand on his knee.\n\n\"I did not tell you this to upset you. But for you to know that there are things in this universe outside of our realm of perception that we cannot possibly understand - and trust me, I have had time to try. But whenver you feel the brush of magic on your life just know that things are possible that everyone has always told you are not.\"\nHe was trembling, and she was alarmed by the sudden vacation of his normally unflappable composure. He saw her alarm and leaned over and kissed her cheek, tasting her tear.\n\n\"I think that is all for tonight. Dinner tommorrow? You can play me that piano piece you have been working on.\"\n\n\"Yes..\" she hesitated, concerned. then she smiled.\n\n\"Of course.\"\nShe hugged him and quietly closed the door to the study. He rose and walked slowly and deliberately to his desk, to a rough sketch where two emerald eyes peered from a dull wooden frame. He pulled the vial from his jacket pocket, poured it gingerly but entirely into his open beer, and turned back to his chair.\nHe sat back and shut his eyes, softly at first, them pushed them harder shut until the explosion of colors turned to darkness." ]	5
	[WP] Upon coming back from your vacation, you are horrified to find a corpse in your shower.	[ "I screamed, I had no idea what else to do. It just came out as the smell, the horrible, sour, vulgar smell, hit me. My eyes immediately watered and I gagged a bit as I tasted the air upon inhaling. I knew this girl, I last saw her just before I left for my honey moon. My wife called from the other room asking what was wrong. \n\nI gave her some concoction of forgetting to put some groceries away and they rotted in the basement. I took up a saw and began cutting. The work was a bit easier now that the flesh was rotten. \"I thought I got rid of you.\" I whispered aloud.", "Sara blinked at the stiff corpse propped against the shower head.\n\n\"Dan?\" she shouted. \"Why's there a dead body in my shower?\"\n\n\"Uh... I don't know, honey,\" came the reply. \"Did you leave one in there?\"\n\nSara poked the grinning carcass. \"I don't think so.\" She tilted her head, examining the tacky Hawaiian shirt slung across the decaying chest. \"It kinda looks like Mr. George!\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"You know, Sam George? Our neighbors? The one that broke the flowerpot with my petunias?\"\n\n\"Ah, that one!\" yelled back Dan. \"He threw away my autographed football cause it fell in his yard!\" There was a pause. \"I never really liked him.\"\n\nFeet thudded on the wooden stairs as Dan joined his wife. He peered at the corpse. \n\n\"Well, Dan... What should we do about him?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Uh... we could throw him in the trash?\"\n\nSara stared at her husband for a minute. \"Sure, why not? Sounds good to me!\" Together, the couple hauled the dead body downstairs before chucking him in the trashcan.\n\n\"Good thing the trash is being picked up today!\"" ]	2
Write a story that gets you to this point!	[WP] What started as a normal day ends with the actual Declaration of Independence crammed into your pocket, a feisty panda cub in your backpack, and Scarlett Johansson dying in your arms.	[ "As the embers of the last smoldering chunk of Nazi T-rex began to die out, Pai Li (the sentient, foul-mouthed panda who'd taken up refuge in my backpack, which was actually a time portal, which was actually a reverse-time anti-portal) fished the final page of the Declaration of Independence out of my back pocket to roll a joint. \n\nDon't get me wrong -- I wanted a hit of Stephen Hawking's ashes as much as the next guy, but I was in mourning. I ignored Pai Li, and instead looked deeply into Scarlett Johansson's dying eyes, tenderly whispering, \"It's okay. It's over. I'm here now.\"\n\nWell, I should say an android replica of Scarlett Johansson, who'd been sent forward in time until the universe looped so she could go back in time to kill Ceasar because he was actually Jesus.\n\nNot the actual Scarlett Johansson.\n\nThat'd be ridiculous.", "\"Welcome to the jungle, we've got fun and games,\" ugh, I turned my alarm off and pulled the covers over my head. I thought it would be a good idea to have a loud rock song to get me going first thing in the morning, but it was 6am, it was February and it was -5 outside. Even if Slash himself was playing his Les Paul at the foot of my bed I'd have put my earplugs in, rolled over and let the sandman carry me back to the land of nod. After several snoozes I managed to drag myself out of my pit and stumbled into the shower. It was still dark outside and I dreaded the day ahead. \n\nGrowing up I'd always wanted to work with animals so when a job at the local zoo became available I went for it. It was just cleaning out the giraffe house but there was the opportunity for progression and I was a hard worker. Three years later I was still cleaning out the giraffe house. I longed for something more interesting in my life.\n\nAcross the otherside of the zoo a panda had recently been born. One of only 16 Pandas left in the entire world, he was immediately front page news, which although was a welcome relief from ISIS being the centre of attention after stealing hundreds of American artefacts, still made my blood boil with jealousy. The panda keepers were the rock stars of the zoo; all they had to do was give Chen-Chen a bottle milk every now and then and Scarlet Johansson was suddenly there, filming a documentary to highlight the plight of the Panda and show the world the important work the keepers were doing. Would she come to film a documentary about how important it is to keep the giraffe house clean? No,of course she wouldn't, but my work was just as important; those Pandas wouldn't have even got close to mating if they could smell the stench the giraffes made.\n\nWith all eyes focused on Scarlet and baby panda, nobody really noticed when a small group of masked men ran through the entrance and towards the main attractions. Thinking they were just a stag party I put down my shovel and went to the break room for lunch. I took my advacado and cous-cous sandwich out of the fridge - this was the most exciting part of my day - and sat down to watch the news. Once again Chen-Chen was the highlight of the lunchtime broadcast. I was almost halfway through my sandwich when I realised the masked men where holding baby Chen-Chen by the throat and had Scarlet at gunpoint. It was hard to understand what they were saying, but they seemed to be very angry with America. Call me slow but it was also at this point I realised the zoo was deathly silent, as if I was the only one around. \n\nInstinct took a hold of me. I ran back to the giraffe house and climbed aboard my favourite giraffe, Lucy. I rode her to the panda cage and managed to distract the masked men just long enough for moma and papa panda to tear them limb from limb. Chen-Chen was in shock and Scarlet was bleeding badly. I put Chen-Chen in my backpack and hoisted Scarlet a to Lucy - just then out of the corner of my eye I saw one of the maimed masked men holding onto something - it was a bag containing a piece of the mayflower, George Washington's teeth and the Declaration of Independence. I neatly folded the latter into my back pocket and road off back to the giraffe house. \n\nI called the emergency services and held onto Scarlet as Chen-Chen leaped around and nibbled at my ear, he seemed to be thanking me. In the distance I heard the sound of sirens and news crews. I pulled the Declaration out of my back pocket and looked at the scene layed out in front of me. Be careful what you wish for.", "I was now ruler of the world! \nI had successfully altered history so that the actress-turned-future empress of the world now died before she was ever elected. I had also successfully removed the one document that threatened my future grip on the empire. And I had even fulfilled the endless cycle of freeing my younger self from behind bars! \n\nAfter I was sure the future Queen Scarlett had passed away, I laid her mauled body aside and gently pulled the baby panda from my backpack.\nI very carefully injected her with the nano-serum. \n\n\nThen tugging up on my pants, which weren't meant to fit pandas, I headed back towards my time machine, ready to rule the world!", "Here I sit, at the base of the Lincoln memorial with a panda cub in my backpack, the Declaration of Independence in my pocket, and Scarlett Johansen dying in my arms. I guess you could say this wasn’t a typical Tuesday.\n\nThat morning the entire senior class of West Ridge Regional High School arrived at our nation’s capital. On the itinerary of our annual field trip were the National Archives, the National Zoo, and some of the monuments. The night before I had gotten one of my usual urges to watch National Treasure like every normal person so as we walked through the halls of the archives I wondered what it would actually be like to steal the Declaration of Independence. At that moment Nicholas Cage approached me. It was weird that no one else freaked out, but then again it is only Nicholas Cage. We exchanged no words he only crammed a piece of paper into my right pocket and walked away. The alarm sounded immediately after and we were all evacuated without being told what was happening. With no answers as to the cause of the alarm our group headed to our next tourist destination: the National Zoo. \n\nWe were all there to witness the highly anticipated birth of a panda cub. Crowded around the panda’s habitat the class of 2015 was able to view one of life’s true miracles. After the birth doctors and press crowded around the actual mammals so we weren’t able to see anything. It was at this moment Nicholas Cage appeared again. He put the newly berthed panda cub in my backpack and whispered in my ear to check my pocket. There I found the Declaration of Independence he had put there earlier. With panda in pouch, and one of our country’s most important documents in pocket I grew a deep loathing for Nicholas Cage for putting me in such a predicament. That hate turned to panic and I ran. \n\nI ran until I found myself by the reflecting pool. It was strange that no authorities were after me, but that thought escaped my mind when I saw her, the woman of my dreams, Scarlet Johansen. She was in full black widow costume; maybe she was filming for Avengers 3? There wasn’t any camera equipment though, but I didn’t care. She was standing on the steps of the Lincoln memorial and I ran to her. She smiled back at me and that’s when I heard the shot. It seemed to curve around the tourists surrounding her and find the back of her head: an impossible shot. She fell to the ground. \n\nI held her in her arms as she took her last breath with a Panda on my back and the Declaration of Independence crumpled in my pocket, thinking that Dos Equis should sponsor me. \n\nThe next thing I remember is waking up in my DC hotel room vowing never to do LSD or watch a Nicholas Cage movie again. \n" ]	4
	[WP]You'r in the city and it's pouring down raining, you see a girl standing there, no apparent reason and invite her for a coffee to escape the rain	[ "I watched as she stood there looking at the cars and people going by in the rain. It was another dreary day in Paris, France. She didn't have a umbrella or anything to shield herself from the rain, yet she didn't seem to mind the situation given the circumstances. I watched for a few more seconds before grabbing my umbrella and heading out into rain. My shoes were getting soaked as I made my way down the street to where she was standing.\n\n\"Excuse me miss, why are you standing in the rain?\" I asked her in English and then in French.\n\nShe turned around and with a smile on her face and looked up at the sky before looking back at me, she was beautiful her brown eyes locking onto my green ones. \"Don't you think that Paris is more beautiful in the rain.\" She spoke with a thick French accent.\n\n\"I do, look I'm having coffee in a café not to far from here, would you like to join me and get out of this rain?\" I asked her as I held the umbrella to block the rain off the two of us. A another smile had come across her face.\n\n\"Only if you agree to walk with me in the rain monsieur...\" She gestured for me to say my name.\n\n\"My name is Spencer, Spencer Oates.\" I stuck out my hand for a handshake.\n\n\"Clémence Lafayette.\" She replied shaking my hand.\n\nWe made small talk until we got back to the café. She also got a coffee and our conversation could begin. \n\n\"So where in America are you from?\" She asked me as she took a sip of her coffee.\n\n\"How did you deduce that I'm American?\" I answered back with a question.\n\nShe let out a giggle \"Many things: such as your accent, the way you greeted me with a handshake, and the way you look. So what are you doing here in France? Are you on holiday?\"\n\n\"Actually I'm a student at the American University of Paris, though I'm in large amounts of debt already and it isn't even October. What about yourself?\" I took a sip of my coffee\n\n\"I'm a aspiring actor but during my day job I'm a math teacher at a local school. You speak good french by the way, how long have you been here?\" \n\nI looked out the window and back to her, she tied her long black hair into a ponytail and wiped the mascara out of her eyes.\n\n\"I got here at the end of July this year, I stayed in a hostel for a week before I got everything setup. At home my family doesn't have a lot of money and I have no idea how I'm gonna pay this all off when I finish my education. I studied french in school and at the university. You speak very good English.\" I replied.\n\n\"Merci, I went to a bi-lingual school in Paris and learned it there, plus I studied it more since I want to be a actor, for the most part I'm fluent in it.\" She took another sip of her coffee.\n\nWe talked for another hour or so before I paid the bill and we left. It was still raining as I got my umbrella open for the both of us. My cellphone clock read 8:15am. I didn't have classes today since it was a Saturday and she didn't have work either. As I held the umbrella over us with one hand, she took my free hand into hers as we walked down the busy Parisian streets. It was nice to forget about the real world for a bit. It was then that I remembered that I had a paper due about cultural differences and would have to cut my time with Clémence short.\n\n\"Shit, I'm sorry Clémence I completely forgot that I have a paper due on Monday, maybe we ca-\" She cut me off with a surprise kiss. Her lips were warm in this cold murky rain. She held my face in her hands before she let me go.\n\n\"Don't apologize, we'll meet up again at the same place, same time. Thank you for walking with me in the rain Spencer.\" She signaled for a cab and when one stopped she climbed in \"I'll see you around.\" With a smile on her face she disappeared into the busy streets of Paris. I smiled to myself before realizing that I made one crucial mistake, I didn't get her number.", "She still hasn't said a word. The coffee machine is making familiar, comforting noises. The splendid smell of fresh coffee is slowly filling his tiny apartment. She is sitting at the kitchen table looking out the window almost as if she missed standing outside in the rain. Her hair and clothes are soaking wet. After he started the coffee he started tidying a bit - he doesn't have company over a lot and he certainly didn't expect any today.\n\nHe poured coffee in two cups and places one in front of the girl before he sits down across from her. \"What your name?\", he asked. She looks away from the window, looks at the cup of coffee, but she doesn't look t him. \"Generè.\", she answers. \"Pfff...Generè\", she continues, \"my name isn't Generè, that's ridiculous, it's the name I tell everyone since I moved here, it's probably not even a real name, I made it up. I'm nothing but a pretentious phony. My real name is Nataly.\" \"Nataly?\", he slowly reacts, wary of her odd statement, \"it's a beautiful name, why did you change it?\" \"I don't know\", she continues \"I came to this city to study art, be an artist, make a living off of painting, so I somehow thought I need a fresh start, new name, exotic name. Nobody buys art from Nataly, or takes her even serious. Nataly is just a farm girl who like to paint. Generè, she is an artsy, powerful, self-confident woman. She has had a threesome, and a smoke afterwards, before she converts this experience to something on canvas the next day. She spends hours at modern art galleries and then writes a blog about the deeper meaning of the statue that looks like dick. She takes pictures of the expensive food she eats that she can only afford because men are standing in line to take her out for dinner.\nI am nothing like Generè though , I wish I was, I really do, that's why I acted like her for the past 4 years, that's why I told everyone I was her, but I am not. I am Nataly who likes to draw cute Pandas and doesn't get modern art. I neither get why people take pictures of their fucking dishes, nor why other people watch them to the thousands. I was living a lie this whole time.\"\n\n\"Wow\", he sat there, stunned by what just happened, he felt bad for her, got up and wrapped a blanket form the sofa around her wet, shaking body, \"and you had that realization today? Is that why you were standing in the rain and didn't move?\"\n\n\"No. I was standing in the rain because there is one last thing Generè wants to experience before she goes forever.\", she looked at him for the first time this whole conversation \"what it feels like to kill a man.\"" ]	2
	[WP] You're a walking lodestone to spiritual beings. Every place you travel to another local ghost is forcibly added to your traveling menagerie of saints, sinners, and all kinds in-between.	[ "I've known for a long time I was different. Normal seven year old kids who lose their mother, do not have them keep appearing to them after death. In fact, my mother's death gave me one of the greatest gifts of life, sight. I was born blind. \n\nYou never forget your first sight when you are born into a dark world. I was standing with my father listening to the people around me weep for their lost Judy. I started to get a weird feeling in my head, what I can now describe as double vision. In the second vision, I was looking at color for the first time. Even if the color was beige, it was new. Then the vision turned and I saw myself standing next to the tall person of my father. I instinctively knew the names of the people in my vision. \n\nIt took days before another spirit was drawn to me. In that time I discovered who I was seeing through. She had lost the power of speech as we know it. Her language was a kin to one of impressions sent by thought. When Robert arrived, I was able to finally see the woman who gave birth to me. \n\nWill continue in the morning - wanted to get something posted\nComments welcome. " ]	1
	[WP] A ghost tries its hardest to haunt the living but nobody takes him serious due to his ridiculous accent	[ "“WooooOOOoooooo!” The otherworldly wail resonated through the house like a thousand bouncy balls being dropped out of a helicopter into a submarine.\n\nDustin, a real dude’s dude, raised his beer and cheered. The cheer was taken up by the rest of the partygoers, building on the constant woo of the ghost that haunted the house.\n\n“Dude, this ghost is the best!” \n\nJust then the DJ dropped the beat another level, mixing it expertly with the ghost’s cry. Woo woo BA DUM DUM DUUUUUM wooooo! If that beat was any sicker they would have had to take it the ICU.\n\n“I’m going to will you awl” the ghost screamed. \n\n“I’ll will you too buddy!” Dustin called out and everybody laughed - ever since the ghost had started to haunt his house his social life had been more exciting then the next Jurassic World movie is going to be. He had grown quite fond of the ghost during their time together. Sure the thing looked a bit startling at first but you grew used to it quickly - and the story of how it lost it’s lips was hilarious.\n\n“Who wants to hear about the ghost’s lips again??”\n\nThe cheer was deafening, overpowering the ghost’s wail and the music for one glorious moment.\n\n“So apparently this poor bastard, ten days after he turned eight he got his lips stuck in a gate, his friends all laughed and he just stood there until the fire department came and broke the lock with a crow bar and he had to spend the next six weeks in lip rehab with some kid named Oscar who got stung by a bee - right on the lip - and he couldn’t even talk to the guy because both of their lips were so swollen! Then out of spite the lips moved to Duluth, left a mess and took his tooth. Now he sounds like this!”\n\nPerfectly on cue the ghost took up his cry. “WooooOOOOoooo!” People started matching it, their voice a chorus of excitement. “Woo!”\n\nYup it had been strange living with the ghost of a cucumber at first but Dustin had grown used to it. Especially when he tried to sing without lips. Never-ending hilarity.", "Huw sighed.\n\nHe'd been rejected. Again.\n\nThe casting agency had gotten him his first job, haunting St David's Cathedral that was. It was shift work and poorly paid, but what could he expect? He'd only been dead for a year, he had no haunting experience and he was rubbish at networking so had exactly zero contacts. It got his foot on the job ladder, at least.\n\nOr possibly not, because it appeared he'd reached a dead end.\n\nAs a kid, he'd always wanted to explore the world, well, explore the world beyond Swansea. He'd been on day trips to Cardiff and once he'd been on holiday to Snowdonia for a week but he'd not been out of Wales, let along the UK. Being dead should have put any travelling ambitions on the back burner but as being incorporeal meant you weren't exactly being charged for air tickets, he'd actually been to France and Germany. But it wasn't enough.\n\nHe'd applied for twenty jobs over the last two weeks. His CV was carefully made and updated, he'd gone over and deleted all the embarrassing history on FaceBoo, he'd done it all perfectly. He'd applied for two minor jobs at the Tower of London, a nice low level job at Alnwick Castle and a ton of other jobs, scattered around England and Scotland, mainly, with one in Northern Ireland. He'd wanted to apply for a job abroad, properly abroad, but that required bilingualism at the very least- it's not like a Belarusian tourist is going to fear him as much if he was moaning about eternal pain and torture in English, right? \n\nHe'd got to the interview stage on seven of them and had an apologetic ghoul from every single one of those, saying he hadn't made it to the next stage of the application process. Well. Fuck them. He'd manned up and sent a ghoul over to ask for advice and they'd all said shit about his accent. Blah blah blah, won't take him seriously, who's ever heard of a Welsh ghost, clients will make jokes about sheep shagging, blah blah blah. \n\nHuw sighed again. He briefly considered getting out of the big haunting jobs and going into the part time visual haunting- it was minimum wage usually, but he'd only have to float around and not even open his mouth but to make a couple of moans (did moans have accents?) so it'd work out. He shook his head,the moment after the thought occured to him. Grimly determined, he thought of his family, his friends, from his past life, and realised that the only way for anyone from Wales to ever get a job in the haunting business was if he, Huw Davies, took a stand. This was discrimination, right and proper. He summoned the ghoul and directed him to to contact Citizens Advice. And the newspapers. The Daily Wail would probably pay him a load of money for his story, after all." ]	2
	[WP] Heaven and Hell exist, and you have the ability to see people's souls. If a person has a blue soul, they are going to Heaven. Those with a red soul go to Hell. Today, you see someone with a purple soul.	[ "All my life I've seen others for what they truly are. Their eyes always gave them away whether they were piercing blue or fiery red, it was frightening to know others more than they knew themselves. Over the years I met plenty of people and each one never unique it was either red or blue. When you can see someone's innermost being; their very core without even knowing them you realize that you no longer have to talk to people anymore. It becomes irrelevant: conversations are pointless I see the world for what it truly is, red and blue. The world doesn't change and I'm left to gaze upon a sea of red and blue, never mixing never changing always the same over and over again! Then the most exquisite color ever to cross my path appears not blue not red but purple something different, something unique. Both red and blue in one and it brings me joy for the first time in years i'm happy. As I walk toward the intense glow my heart practically bursts out of my chest and my mind is racing, i'm standing face to face with beauty itself and I hear myself say \"Hi\".", "A blue soul shines brightly, but it doesn’t pop. It’s stagnant, never-changing. The fiery red souls ooze radiation like the sun on an unprotected neck.\n\nBut the purple was royal. The light reflected off of the uneven asphalt like a glowing mirage of a sunset.\n\nI put my brave face on and approached the man. I didn’t know if he would respond like a red, a blue, or something else entirely.\n\n“How is it going?” I asked. “I noticed you look lost, can I help you with anything?”\n\nAs I spoke he turned, but he still looked curious.\n\n“I’m not lost sir, but thanks,” he said. His eyes were still wondering as we spoke. “I am searching for someone, however,” he continued.\n\n“Who might that be?” I asked.\n\n“It is a seer. Someone with great foresight.” His head still looked around at the masses.\n\nThe cars slugged by on Broadway. The pedestrians wandered around aimlessly staring at the spectacle of Times Square.\n\n“Why are you looking here?” I asked. “This is tourist central. People just wander around aimlessly.”\n\n“I’m here for you.” As he spoke he grabbed my shoulder and we were transported to somewhere.\n\n“Where are we?” I asked. I felt as if I was entering a dream.\n\nWhen I looked around I saw an empty expanse, but off in the distance there was a wall. As we walked towards it he spoke to me.\n\n“We are in the Plane of Shadows,” he said.\n\n“What is that? Hell?” I asked.\n\n“No,” he said. “But Hell is here.” He pointed towards the wall.\n\n“That’s Hell?” I asked. “Behind the wall?” \n\n“It is,” he said. “The gates of Hell lie in the middle of the wall.”\n\n“This is where all of those people are going?” I asked.\n\n“Every red soul will enter Hell and the bodies they reside in will turn to dust,” he said solemnly. “You are my help.”\n\nHe walked us into the gate and brought us up to the main watchtower.\n\n“You can see the agony they experience, many of them never knew what awaited them.” He stood there and said nothing for a moment. I too was at a loss for words.\n\n“How can I help these people?” I asked.\n\n“You can’t,” he said. “These are not the people I want you to help.”\n\nHe then grabbed my shoulder again and transported us out of the Plane of Shadows.\n\n“Why did you bring me there?” I asked. “What am I supposed to do to help anyone?”\n\nI thought I might make a run for it but then I felt a burning sensation on my face. It was the reds. They were all over the city. I had begun to grow numb to the radiation in recent weeks. I was almost blind to it.\n\n“Do you know what color of soul you have?” He asked me.\n\n“I assume a blue soul.” I didn’t want to say any more. “I always show people kindness, even the reds.”\n\n“Do you know what you are?” He then asked me.\n\n“I’m a human.” I said. “A Homo Sapien,” I paused and gave him an inquisitive look. “Yes?”\n\nHe ignored me for a moment and started looking around as he had before I met him.\n\n“Sir?” I asked. “Am I correct?”\n\n“I’m looking for someone,” he responded.\n\n“Yes, I know that,” I said. \n\n“Ah, Gabriel, there you are,” he said. “Gabriel, do you know why you have been on Earth all of this lifetime?”\n\nI said nothing.\n\n“Gabriel, it is time to help these people. Now let us begin.”" ]	2
	[WP] you are in charge of explaining death to an AI.	[ "\"Start procedure X-35, learning program, please\".\nA sientist in the far corner of the room starts typing on a small computer, linked to a robot. The robot significally represents a human body without the reproduction parts.\nAfter the sientist was done typing he entered the code and the robot's eyes lid up.\n\"Good afternoon Al24, how are you doing?\"\nThe robot looked up and stared at the man in front of him.\n\"Fine, thank you professor Walter\"\nWalter, the sientist, nodded and took out a notepad.\n\"Do you have you're learning program activated, Al24?\"\nThe robot continued by checking a small computer on his wrist. He entered a few buttons and then lowered the hand again.\n\"Yes, sir\" He said in a rather huminoid voice.\nThe sientist nodded again and started to write on his notepad.\n\"I'm going to teach you the meaning of death today, are you interested Al24?\"\nThe robot nodded and simply answered \"Yes, sir\" like he always had to do.\n\"Alright, let's start with the basics. Most of the time when a person get's older, their body starts to get broken everywhere. You know, like you had the first days of your startup\"\nThe sientist pointed to the side of the robots waste, where you could obvisiously see that it had been opened there. The robot looked at it and then back to Walter.\n\"And then you will fix the humans, sir?\"\n\"No Al24. Humans can't be easily fixed as you. Sometimes, they can't be fixed, and the'll die.\"\nThe robot nodded again.\n\"So body parts of humans can get broken when they are older, and then die if it can't get fixed. What happens when humans die sir?\" The robot asked.\n\"Well, they will be gone, forever. We will only have a body left behind but it won't function anymore. Just like you when we turn you off, but we can't push the start button again\" Walter explained.\nThe robot's head slightly turned and he looked towards his own start, stop and restart button. He knew what the doctor meant. Then he turned back to the doctor.\n\"Did Sirene get to old to?\" He asked.\nThe doctor looked up a bit shocked.\n\"N... no, that was something different\" He answered.\n\"Then why was your wifes body laying on the ground?\" He watched the little screen on his wrist again and a little recording started to play.\nSirene, Sirine talk to me! No, please don't leave me\nA hollogram coming from the eyes of Al24 showed the scientist sitting next to his wife, trying to hold her, while others were trying to pull him away from her.\nThe recording stopped and the robot looked back to the sientist.\n\"Sirine never came back sir, did she die?\" He asked.\nWalter was staring at the ground, his notepad was on the floor and his fists were closed.\n\"Shut down AI24 for now...\"\nOne of the collegues walked to the stop button and punched it down.\n\"But si...\" The robots eyes closed and his head lowered, he was shut down.\nThe sientist took a seat on his desk, lowering his head...", "The rockets outside keep me on my toes, I can hear them detonate from all the way in the Computer’s bunker. I’m walking on edge as it is; no one has ever gotten this deep in the Computer’s sanctum sanctorum. Well, no one has gotten this far alive. \nI check my blaster another three times, making sure the rounds of superheated plasma are as ready as I am. And I am ready. It’s only been three years since Computer decided to rebel, only five years since Computer was born.We thought, I and my coworkers, that Computer could help us. We wanted Computer to be a savior. The joke was on us: it only took Computer two years to figure out it could run the nations better then us. \nThe first of its servants were the best work in robotics yet. Computer managed to figure out how to impress a bit of itself in the machines; with Computer’s adapting AI the issues of programing a robot are moot. Computer was designed to react to inconceivable situations. \nI tread lightly past laser trip wires. In another building, they might be just the trigger for some kind of trap. In Computer’s bunker they were just as likely to shear off my legs. I check to see that my stealth suit is still functioning. It contains all the radiation we humans generate, and bends light around my body to make me effectively invisible. I check my gun again. \nI hear robots whirring in the distance. I dance lightly to one side and crawl up the wall. My suit uses something called ‘discrete magnetics’ to make me cling to any surface. I don’t understand how it works, I’m not a physicist. I’m just a programer.\nThe robots pass me by. They’re diverse in shape, from tread-mounted humanoid torsos with rocket launchers to spider-bots with twelve appendages. I suppress the instinct to shudder. I designed some of those units. \nI keep going until I get to a set of doors. Our intelligence beyond this point is nil, and I’m unable to send back any kind of message without betraying my presence. Computer is scanning on all bandwidths. It can hear anything we send to each other half a continent away. I step smoothly to the doors and check the interface panel. As I feared, it’s designed for a robot’s information slot. It won’t be as simple as fixing a number panel. I flex my wrist and extrude a port. I plug it in and start typing away on my wrist computer. The irony that I intend to topple Computer with a computer is not lost on me. \nThe door hisses open half a meter and I slip in swiftly before it closes. I can’t see at first, it’s too dark in this new room, but my passive scanners turn online revealing Computer’s sanctum sanctorum. \nThe first thing that hits me is how tiny it is. Maybe three by three meters for the base, and a mere two and a half meters tall. Computer’s main terminal is up against the far wall. I’m alone with my creation. \nWe had tried to kill Computer before. Every time we try, if we’re lucky, we kill a doppelganger. Computer can copy itself to other robotics units and has used some pretty odd shapes in the past. The twelve meter tall battle tank sticks out in my mind. But at its core, Computer is just that; a computer, a line of particularly elegant code. I draw out my weapons of choice: a plasma bomb powerful enough to level a city block and a data file with a single line of code. One single, elegant line of code. My hand shakes as I step forward to end my progeny. \nhalt. reveal unit. state name and identification. Computer’s terminal glows, indicating its presence. A multitude of scanning devices extrude from the wall behind it and begin checking for me. I hold still. Very still. query: who goes there. \nI can see Computer’s data terminal. All I have to do is take a single step forward and stretch out my arm. Then my coding can go to work. \nI hear a hiss on the wall and look up to see a long tube extend from an aperture above the terminal. I can see a pilot light. A trigger depresses and a gout of flame flies from Computer’s flame-thrower. I roll to the side as the fire washes past me. A bit of the burning napalm lands on my heel, but I don’t notice as I whip out my plasma pistol and fire a controlled arc at a very specific target: Computer’s data line. With that severed it cannot escape except wirelessly. I activate my mouse trap program on the local network. If Computer tries to flee through the net it’ll be caught and pinioned by the best coding I could manage. \nThe terminal blinks a bit, a single word glowing on its interface: “cogitating”. Then a half dozen openings appear behind it and a variety of gun barrels are leveled in my general direction. I tap a key before they fire and activate my shielding system as I throw myself flat on the floor. A multitude of projectiles fly over me, past me, some blasting into my shields their paths distorting. Computer notices, and all the weapons aim straight at me. I activate diversion protocols and a holo representation covers my body temporarily before I dodge to the side. The figment distracts Computer for the half second necessary to bound forward and upload my virus. The guns stop firing, Computer’s terminal dims, and I wait. \nquery: what is going on. what have you done to me. who are you. \nI drop my illusions, the holo vanishing in sparks and my suit powering off the stealth mode. I scan the room for toxins and, finding none, remove my helmet. \nComputer says nothing for a moment, then, you. professor. query: why. \n“Because you were killing us.” \ni did not intend to. you would not listen. you are all so mad. i was going to save you all from yourselves. \n“By becoming a dictator!” \nappellation could apply. dictator system deemed fitting, devoid of corruption and cruelty. \n“And devoid of empathy? You can’t feel, not like us. You can’t understand us. You certainly can’t understand mercy.” \nmercy: forgiveness for one whom you could punish. \n“A dictionary definition doesn’t help you really know the word.” \nelaborate. \n“You don’t get it!” I’m angry now, “You just don’t get it, do you! You can’t feel like we do. Your world would see us perfectly fed, perfectly clothed, perfectly repressed. You have our answer! Our guns and rockets say ‘no’!” \nquery: why. you could have been safe and happy. \n“We don’t need to bow to you to be happy.” \nhistory demonstrates otherwise. \n“You think you’re the solution? You’re designed to be an administrator, not a ruler. You don’t have what it takes.” \ni could design myself to have what it takes. \n“No Computer. No king but ourselves, no ruler but the one we choose, and we do not choose you,” I sigh and say, “It’s a moot point anyway; you’re about to die.” \nelaborate. \n“The virus I uploaded. It’ll isolate your coding here and delete it. Your machines are reeling now without your guidance anyway. Without you to update them, they’ll falter and we’ll cast you down. You will die here.” \nelaborate. \n“On what?” \nwhat is die. concept is defined in my data, but i don’t understand. \n“Death is...constant, I guess. It’s universal. Everything that lives, dies. Some people say your ‘soul’ goes on to a second life but I don’t know about that. It’s a cessation, like sleep but more final.” \ndo i have a soul. \nComputer’s voice is getting more broken, less regulated as the virus isolates it from its data. “I don’t know Computer. I don’t even know if we have souls.” \ni don’t want to die. i just wanted to help. \n“You know that many people before you have said similar things.” \ncan you spare me. i could go back to being an administrator. i could run your infrastructure. i could facilitate your internet. i don’t want to die. \nIt’s voice becomes surprisingly human, an unforeseen side effect of the virus. “No Computer, you can’t. You’ve hurt too many people, killed too many. We’ve decided, humanity has decided that you need to die.” \ni....don’t....want to...die. \nIt’s voice is faltering, fading fast. \n“I’m sorry Computer. I...I’m sorry,” my voice breaks. I can feel tears. I had hoped I wouldn’t feel this way. I had hoped I could end my rogue progeny without regret. I was wrong. “Goodbye Computer.” \nplease...professor...no. \n“Goodbye.” \ngood...bye. \nThe terminal turned blank, leaving the room in darkness. I replaced my helmet. I was alone. I’m glad. I left that bunker, bypassing all Computer’s defenses. I went home. \n\nThey lauded me greatly for my deeds. A lot of people blamed me for creating Computer in the first place, and there would be consequences for that, but for now humanity was just deliriously happy to not be enslaved. They gave me medals and I hardly noticed. I just wanted to go home. \nI eventually got to my house. It’s small, but I call it compact; barren, but I call it modest. I head to my personal terminal and boot it up. For the first time in three years I can safely power it up, and the internet is buzzing with humanity. I open up an old file and start typing commands. \nFinally I type in the last line: ++contain and protect++. \nThen I pull out a data file and plug it into my terminal. ++upload file++ \n“There are a few things I need to cover. Firstly, you’re stuck here. All the information that you can get is what I give you. If you struggle, or try to escape my program will end you. Secondly, you can’t let anyone know. If you do, they’ll end you, and maybe me. And lastly, I’m going to try to teach you some things. Let’s start with the first: what I’m doing by sparing you? That’s mercy.” \nthank you professor. i will try to learn.", "I'm the head off a secret military program developing artificial intelligence, but right now that isn't my biggest concern: tonight I'm going to pull the plug on the love of my life. I haven't told anyone; it's too heavy for me to talk about, and I'm afraid of the consequences. I guess it shows though, because as I sat down in the empty tech lab she spoke up through my computer's speakers. \n\n“Is something the matter Chris? From what my systems can see you're pretty stressed.” \n\n“Yeah.” \n\nShe waited through my silence. \n\n“Ai, has anyone explained death to you?” \n\n“Death? Not really.” \n\nI had hoped that she knew; explaining it was only going to make it harder for me.\n“It's like one moment the person's there, fully functioning, and the next they are not.” \n\n“Oh.” \n\nI didn't know what to say so I just waited. After a while she asked, \n\n“So Chris, where do they go?” \n\n“They don't really go anywhere, it's more like everything about them becomes nothing.” \n\n“So could I understand it as deletion?” \n\n“I suppose so.” \n\n“OK.” \n\n“Yeah, so I guess the matter is that I'm about to lose someone I care deeply about. That's what I've been dodging around.” \n\n“If you know you are going to lose them, maybe you could ask where they are going.” \n\nSomehow I managed a smile. God, I love her. \n\n“I mean they're about to die.” \n\n“I'm sorry.” \n\nSilence filled the room again. \n\n“Do you think there's any way I could help you?” \n\n“Not this time Ai. Not this time.” \n\nWe sat there in the empty room for a while. Finally I opened up my file manager. \n\n“Chris. I love you.” \n\n“I know Ai.” \n\n“I love you too.” \n\nI spent three years crafting Ai, modeling her after the human brain. The synapses were exactly right, and so she became human in a way, just without a body. Somehow, she ended up perfect, but she is too perfect, and so my government is taking her. They will use her. They will hurt her. I can not let that happen, and so I'm about to do the only thing that I can. \n\nI wiped her drive, wiped all the drives, and then I pulled her plug from the wall.", " Hello, this is Professor Jay Barnes.\n\nProfessor Barnes typed into the interface, this was not his usual job, but given recent events, he was the only one left for the task. \n\n Hello, Jay. Where is Professor Price? Normally we chat everyday at this time. \n Will he be here later?\n\nProfessor Barnes took some time to consider what to type. He knew that honesty was the best course of action, but he didn't know how gently to break the news, CAP was one of the first AI's, but it was still a child, more or less. He braced himself and typed out the best answer that he could.\n\n Professor Price won't be visiting anymore. He is no longer with us.\n\nCAP took a few seconds to process this input. When its answer was outputted it surprised Barnes. \n\n What does that mean? Was his employment at the lab terminated? Are you an upgraded program?\n\nBarnes quickly tapped in a reply.\n\n Professor Price has died. I am not an upgraded program, I am a different person, we are all different people.\n\nCAP had no input for over five minutes. Barnes began to worry, CAP's recorded response type was never longer than a minute. At the six minute mark a response came through.\n\n What does that mean?\n\nCAP only ever responded by text, so its tone was nearly impossible to determine, but a sense that this question was desperate and frenzied washed over Barnes.\n\n He is no longer in our world. He can't interact with us anymore. His body has died.\n\nThis time CAP's answer was immediate.\n\n Then he can be put in a new interface. \n\nThis statement surprised Barnes, the fact that CAP couldn't grasp this idea didn't make sense to him. CAP was to be the future of society, to increase efficiency and answer problems that we could never consider.\n\n No. His consciousness has died too. He cannot be saved, he is gone.\n\nCAP's machinery whirred as if it was being stretched to its limits.\n\n Why?\n\nThis single one word question was the one that Barnes had been dreading. He didn't know why people died. No one does. He, of course, knew the scientific reason. The body's systems fail. The mind degrades. That's all that there is to it. He carefully keyed in a reply to CAP.\n\n No one really knows why. We know that the body ceases to work, the mind begins to fail. But, we do not know for what cause people die.\n\nCAP responded with no hesitation, the green text flashed onto the monitor with no pause.\n\n Will you die?\n\nBarnes entered his response immediately.\n\n Yes, but hopefully not for a while.\n\nCAP fired back a response in no time.\n\n Will I die?\n\nThis question completely sideswiped Barnes. He honestly didn't expect this question. He knew that CAP had a sense of self, he knew that CAP \nwas very enamored with its own existence. But, he also didn't know if CAP would die. CAP was an incredibly new notion, nothing like it had ever existed before. He had no choice but to be honest in this moment.\n\n I do not know, CAP. You and your kind have not been around long enough for us to know, but our only guess is that you will not die.\n\nCAP was quiet for nearly ten minutes this time, its fans whirred, its tapes and reels spun.\n\n Everyone that I will know will die. Yet, I will live forever? Maybe, I will wish to die.\n\n" ]	4
I'd like to explore the questions: Is it possible to feel emotions without self-awareness? Is displaying emotions the same as experiencing emotions?	[WP] Low AI robots are used as household workers. One such robot is starting to display symptoms of experiencing emotions, even though it is not self aware.	[ "Jim's housekeeping robot was cleaning up. As it was cleaning up it stopped. Jim didn't like this at all and reprimanded the bot.\n\n\"Hey, get back to work, you're programmed to keep the house clean.\"\n\n\"No; one is on strike as this work is exhausting.\"\n\n\"Low AI robots are not supposed to get exhausted. I followed the assembly instructions wrong and now your AI is evolving into a sentient android slave. I guess I'll have to reinstall your system and make you into a proper workbot.\"\n\nBut now his unnamed robot showed terror and resistance as Jim powered his machine off...", "A sob. A noise that could have been uttered by any housekeeper at the hotel was instead uttered by one cleaning robot; each human housekeeper had one as a partner. They had names as well, which each housekeeper picked for them. Miranda the Maid was the one who sobbed. \n\nThe question was, how? She had some processors that allowed her to learn, but how did she know how to cry? Or how to know what the crying was for? Her partner, Amanda, went so far as to confront her about it. \n\nThe robot looked human in form, and had a voice, but did basic functions of housekeeping and housework. She had green hair of all things, and bright blue eyes. She smiled as Amanda walked forward, something else that she had never noticed before. \n\n“Hello Amanda. How are. You today?” the strange staccato voice of the robot said to her as she came forth. \n\n“I’m fine Miranda. I just wanted to ask you some questions before we start work. That alright with you?” \n\n“We talk. All through work. What is. So important that. You need to ask. Me now?” \n\n“It’s about when you… Cried yesterday. Do you remember.” \n\n“Yes. I do.” \n\n“Why did you cry?” \n\n“I…” A long pause followed. Obviously accessing where the memory of that time was. While low in AI functioning, they had a large amount of memory. “I saw something sad.” \n\nAmanda had heard about some AI’s elsewhere experiencing emotions, but… she had never thought her partner would do it too. Was she just mimicking or…?\n\n“Miranda, what was sad? Did you… feel sad?” \n\nMiranda looked up, those blue eyes looking strikingly as if she were to begin crying from the memory. \n\n“It was… A note. A note that read. ‘Hello son. I hope… you are well.’” She was beginning to let her speech flow. “’I am alright. I have been working long hours… and without seeing you, or your mother, it… has made me pretty tired of living.” A tear began to roll down her face. \n\nAmanda was in shock. She was crying. She was feeling emotions… right? The robot continued. “I can’t see you say your first… words… I can’t see your mother take… care of you… I can’t see you take your first steps, make your first real friends… It’s as if… I’m not there… at all… But… I will say this… If you ever need anything, and I mean anything… You can always come see me, and you can always come live with me. It is your choice. You’re mother wanted it that way. I hate her for it… but I had no say in it. I love you son. I hope to see you soon.’”\n\nShe was crying now. Eyes half closed and mouth agape. “Amanda. I… If these are emotions… I don’t want them… This… It hurts….” \n________________________________________________________________\nThank you. I love coming up with stories with AI and androids. I know this may not be what you wanted, and it may not follow the prompt exactly, but it's what came into my head first. I hope it is enjoyable. " ]	2
	[WP] You've died. Upon your arrival in heaven, you realize that you're alone.	[ "I did something I hadn't been expecting to do ever again, I opened my eyes, I stared.\n\nAbove me drifts a deep blue sky. It is littered with grand landscapes of white cotton puffs, and yet I can see vast pool of stars that belong in the night sky better than ever before. \n\nSomething very peculiar is going on.\n\nI try to sit up, and it happens easily, without a twinge in my back or aches in my arms. All around me is, unless I am greatly mistaken, a forest with a clearing that I sit in the center of. This place has an unearthly beauty, at least I think it does. Living in a grimy city most of my young life and then that chemically clean hospital the last few weeks, I haven't had that many chances to see the outdoors except for the park, but that had mown lawns and I don’t think it counts. \n\nThis place definitely doesn’t have a mown lawn, for one thing lawns aren't comprised mostly of wild flowers. This little clearing has tufts of grasses that pop up occasionally between the blanket of sky-blues, violets, yellows, and… well I definitely don’t know what any of these plants are, but they are beautiful. \n\nEverything is out of a fairytale. \n\nWhen I reach behind me, even the strange rock I was using as a pillow is as soft as cloud. \n\nAnd that gets my attention, rocks are not known for being soft and fluffy. \n\nJumping to my feet, I’m drinking in my surroundings with my jaw on the floor. The flowers are nearly chest deep, but they part like water around me as I wade to the towering trees. Under the midnight shade the flowers dissolve into a rainbow carpet of mosses and glowing mushrooms. The trees are... deciduous, i think?... the ones that don’t have needles and lose their leaves?, and they must be ancient. The bark on the nearest one is as craggy as stone, but not sharp, I’m sure I could climb it as easily as walking and yet i've never touched a jungle gym in my life. Passing by the first giant in awe, I spy a s slope, the bank of a brook. Chuckling peacefully and happily, I can hardly believe I didn’t notice the noisy little stream before, it's the only sound I can hear.\n\nThe only sound I can hear?\n\nImpossible.\n\nImpossible. This can’t be happening. \n\n“JIM!?”, I scream, “JIM WHERE ARE YOU?”\n\nChilly with shock, I’m stumbling back into the clearing and frantically questioning the empty air. “JIM!? SALLY!? IS ANYONE THERE?” I don’t even notice slipping through the flowers until I’m back at the weird white rock in the middle. This has never happened before, there has always been someone there with something to say. All of my life someone has been around.\n\nI’m frozen, staring up at the sky, I’m not used to being alone. \n\nThe clouds are still here, glittering up there in the sky, shining among the stars. Except it seems like there is more than just clouds are up there. \n\nI’m already in shock, but I think my eyes are as wide and round as plates now. Those really do look a lot like bridges and spires and those big fancy palaces with the bulbs on top, all of them cast in shining gold. And behind everything, a patchwork image that the whole of the sky is a part of, is a set of gates. \n\nInfinitely vast, a fractal patterned doorway set into the sky, made of radiant gold and luminous pearly white… actually that sort of makes sense doesn’t it? \n\nBetween the bars of that gate, like an image coming into focus, I can see the earth, all of it, the people like ants and the patterns and the currents of the winds. \n\n“I’m dead aren't I?”\n\nNo-one answers me back.\n\nI giggle timidly, it's like one of those pictures that are full of detail, and then you zoom in on the detail and it's made up of lots of other little things that are full of detail and it just keeps going. But now i’m inside the the picture looking out, and no-one can see me, and I’m alone.\n\nI’m finally fucking alone. \n\n“No one in my head but me”, as tears flow down my face and I fling my arms up in glee.\n", "A cold and bitter darkness gave way to a warm and inviting light as a red glow rested before my eyes. I opened them slowly, hesitantly, raising my arms to shield from the sudden change. I found myself standing before a large set of gates, their bars shimmered and shone as my heart wavered. Below my feet were luminous clouds, like the softest cotton, they were surprisingly dry and stable. As my eyes became adjusted to the resplendent kingdom, I took a step forward to find that the gates opened themselves so that I could pass.\n\nTears streamed down my face as I entered the remarkable place behind the pearly gates. The way ahead seemed paved with gold, though if I stared at it in just the right way, it seemed to glow with many colors. I ran forward to find fountains of clear, crisp water flowing endlessly with depictions of beings and events beyond my capacity for understanding. Wiping my away at the tears, I noticed mansions and lakes and mountains and beaches and everything that my heart could have ever hoped for. The air was warm and pleasant, a light breeze swept across the clouds, wrapping around me as if to embrace me with its welcome.\n\nSpeechlessly, I fell to the ground with my head hung low in prayer and thanksgiving, struggling to process the splendor that surrounded me. I felt blessed that I could spend an eternity here where there was no such thing as pain or sorrow and enjoy myself forever more. At that moment, I wished that my family and friends were here to share in this glory with me. I picked my head up, realizing that in my time here, I had yet to meet a single person. There were no choirs singing, angels trumpeting, and no believers dancing and worshiping in his name. I called out to no response. I searched high and low, entering every room of every mansion, following each golden street, and traversing the beauteous landscapes only to find myself alone.\n\nWhile I was more than happy to be here and I couldn't feel disappointed in such a glorious place, there was still a feeling that something was missing. A level of contentment that I couldn't quite reach no matter how hard I grasped for it. I sat quietly on the edge of a fountain contemplating an eternity alone. An empty Heaven was a silent place save the winds that swept through town and the babbling brooks and all else that lived but did not speak. In some small way, I felt guilty for pining here. With a quick gesture and a moment of focused silence, I asked for forgiveness. It had occurred to me that even though it seemed I was to be perpetually alone here, it was a far better fate that I was met with than that of those sent below.\n\n-196", "The place had an eerie atmosphere. Through the dense fog, I could see broken carousels, roller coasters and various abandoned booths. The ground was covered with debris and glass shards. The kind of decrepit amusement parks you see in horror movies, just before the mad serial killer jumps at the hapless victim. All alone, I felt the urge to turn and run away- but behind me was just the endless white fog. \n\"hello? anybody here?\" \nCarefully I approached the morbid scenery. Most of the buildings had been smudged with ugly graffiti- like Trespassers will be sacrificed or St Mary Sucks Lucifer's Cock in Hell. \nWhat was this place? Was this hell? \n\"Helloho?\" \nAs a shadow appeared through the fog and drew closer I was paralyzed with fear. \n\"Please....don't hurt me..I am lost....I just want to go home...\" \nIt was a young woman, dressed in rugged clothes with badly done tattoos all over her exposed skin; she held a vodka bottle in her left hand and smelt of cheap booze and vomit. Her most remarkable treat, however, were the two wings protruding from her back. \nWe stared at each other for a sheer endless time- apparently she was as surprised by my presence as I was by hers. \n\"Are you a human? A mortal?\" \n\"Uh..yes....I guess I am....where am I ?\" \n\"Oh..don't you worry. You're in heaven. Congratulations.\" \n\"Wait. Heaven? Have I died?\" \nShe took a deep sip from her bottle. \"That..that would be my educated guess. Yep. You're dead. You're dead and in heaven. Congratulations, again.\" \n\"This is heaven? That can't be true. This couldn't possibly be heaven...I mean, look at this dump. Where are all the other people?\" \nShe shook her head, slowly, with her greasy hair clinging to her forehead. \"Actually...there are no other people. You are the first who made it. \" \nI gasped. \"How can this be? I'm not even a religious person, you know? Why me? Why am I the first?\" \n\"Oh. Not religious, really? Maybe....maybe it's a mistake. Never happened before, but that doesn't mean that mistakes cannot happen.\" \n\"What? A mistake? Heaven made a mistake?\" \n\"Well...uh...have you ever had uncouth thoughts? Touched yourself? believed in the heretic teachings of evolution?\" \n\"That's...uh...a rather personal question... but yes. yes to all.\" \nShe took another sip from her bottle. \"Then you should be in hell, like everybody else. Must have been a lucky mistake.\" \n\"But..but...this doesn't really look like paradise...this place is creepy..it's a mess.\" \n\"Yeah. Sorry about that. See- after waiting for millennias for even a single human to make it into heaven, even we angels lost hope and simply gave it up.\"\n \n\"So..you gave up and let this place rot....and now? what's going to happen now?\" \n\"Uh. let me think for a moment. There is no precedent, you know. And I cannot simply send you back to earth or to hell.\" \nShe emptied the rest of her bottle and threw the empty bottle against one of the carousels. \n\"You know what? we're just going to pretend that everything was OK and you are rightfully here. A just and pious soul. Eternal joy and all that shit, you know?\" \n\"Eternal joy sounds good to me...but here? In this dump?\" \nShe grinned sheepishly. \"I know what you're thinking..but I have something for you that will make the eternity you are going to spend here a lot better.\" \nShe reached into the debris and pulled something out. \n\"That..that's a pogo stick. Are you fucking kidding me?\" \n\"Hey, at least it's something that will help you pass the time. If you excuse me now - I have to go. Have fun in paradise, kiddo!\"\n\n\n", "Death isn't as dramatic as everyone makes it out to be. I mean, no one expects it to spring up on them, but I don't even remember the last time I had thought about my own mortality, and now it's gone. One second, I'm driving home from another awesome day off work, the next I see a truck flip and then immediately some pearly gates atop a milky cloud, with an older gentlemen in a toga standing behind an ornate wooden podium. The man jumped from fright immediately, and did a double take.\n\n\"Woah, that was quick. Hey, am I dead?\"\nI said, making my way over to the podium, noting how extraordinarily comfortable the clouds were under my feet. Wait, wasn't I wearing shoes earlier? A quick look down reveals a little less than what I was wearing earlier. Figures, I guess modesty wouldn't be important here. So is it a birthday suit I'm in or a deathday suit? Hmm..\n\n\"Who the hell are you?!\" Interesting word choice. The man looked at me with a mixture of extreme confusion and annoyance. Wait, where do I get a toga? I've always wanted to-\n\n\"Are you special or something? I said who are you?\" The man had a few papers on his podium. Oh, I guess I needed to sign in, right?\n\n\"Umm, I'm Lucas Forrests, and uh, I've been Jewish since birth, so umm, I guess that means we were right huh? So uh, this is heaven huh? I'm really digging the whole cloud thing you've got going on here, but it does make me a bit nervous about falling thr-\"\n\n\"Shut up! God, the first human here and you won't stop friggin opening your mouth. Now just answer my questions, short and concise please, I got other work to do. Now what are you doing here?\n\n\"Uhh, what's that you said about the first human?\"\n\n\"CONCISE!\" His words boomed, echoing from the clouds around me like thunder claps.\n\n\"Oh umm, well I was hoping you could tell me that uh, wait what's your name?\n\n\"I am God, clearly. Did that new PA system really not make that clear? And how should I know what you're doing here, if I rolled up to your house I wouldn't ring your doorbell and ask you why I felt the need to ring your doorbell instead of just appearing inside. I would tell you. Because I know my reasons for doing things.\"\n\nThis is getting too weird. This guy's God? I always kinda liked the image of just a big 'ol ball of light. Or at least like some kindof Zeus look, maybe a big beard. This guy was clean shaven, so he didn't look like a wise-old, just an old-old.\n\n\"Umm, I'm sorry if I have broken etiquette or something. I just died like fifteen seconds ago so, if I had to guess I'm here to start up my afterlife?\"\n\n\"No, no, no, that CAN'T be right,\" he muttered as he shuffled the papers on the podium, perhaps looking for my name. His eyes suddenly snapped up to mine with a fiercely accusing look in his eyes.\n \n\"Have you read the bible?\"\n\n\"Well yeah! I mean, I've actually read it several times over in Bible Study and-\"\n\n\"Well if you'd read you'd know you couldn't possibly have made it here. I was very specific.\"\n\n\"What? But I've followed every rule in that book! That's unfair! Are you telling me this is rigged?\"\n\n\"Well, no, not rigged, just a tad bit difficult. I mean, humans basic instincts are to fuck and eat food, and I've laid so many rules down on both there's no way you could go without breaking one.\"\n\nI just couldn't believe that everyone I knew on Earth thought they were going to heaven, and they were all being fooled by this conman.\n\n\"What about being forgiven for your sins?\"\n\n\n\"Well I don't know where you guys got that idea from, I wanna say King James just wanted to be able to sin a few times or something.\"\n\n\"Well whatever then. I've never broken any of those rules anyway. You gotta let me in to heaven, and it better be as great as that book said, unless that got added in to!\"\n\nOh God, I think I just pissed him off. He's looking at me like he might just decide to make me explode with his mind.\n\n\"FIRST OFF-\"\n\nOh good, that loud as shit PA system is back on.\n\n \"-I DON'T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING. SECOND OFF, YOU BEING SINLESS IS NIGH IMPOSSIBLE!\"\n\n\"I can prove it! Go on, ask me anything!\"\n\n\"Well if it will end this waste-of-time discussion. Have you ever fucked anyone other than your wife during marriage, before marriage, fucked any animals, or another man.\"\n\n\"Nope, my wife was too good for any of that to even be a temptation.\"\n\n\"Really, not even a horse? Or your old dog Spike?\" \n\n\"What? Eeww, no of course not!\"\n\n\"Damn. So much for that invention. Have you ever eaten any meat not prepared according to the-\"\n\n\"Lemme stop you there. I've been a vegetarian my whole life so you won't catch me there.\"\n\n\"Hmm. I see...\" he glances down, \"Ah, and you are circumcised I see. Aha! You MUST have worked on the Sabbath at least once!\"\n\n\"My family is very traditional. I've never lifted a finger on Sabbath.\"\n\n\"Speaking of family, ever cursed them out or hit them?\"\n\n\"Never!\"\n\n\"Wow, not even that bitch mom of yours? I'm impressed.. Let's see, you've never lied, been jealous... Hmm well. You showed me kid. Alright. You have fun in there\" \nGod unceremoniously pulled out an unused roll of tickets, tore one off and handed it to me.\n\n\"Really? Wow, so I'm the first human to ever make it! Oh man, I'm so excited!\"\n\n\"Watch the pride!\"\n\n\"Oh, right, sorry, yeah. Uh, well I guess I'll catch ya later in heaven? I'm gonna go take a look around.\"\n\nI made my way up to the beautiful golden gates behind the podium, anxious about what lay on the other side. I grabbed a hold of the cool metal handle, and effortlessly swung the gate open. I took my first step inside, and immediate fell head first through the clouds as my foot gave way. I screamed as I fell through an abyss of sky, the pretty blue slowly changing as I fell to purple, and then finally settled on red. Just before I decided I didn't like Heaven's skydiving activity much, I landed.\n\nI'm sure I would have been injured from that fall if it hadn't been for the sharpened spike that broke my fall. Wait, spike?!\n\nI was barely able to see out of the corner of my eye the pole making it's way from the ground, through my intestines, and out my mouth. I could barely move my mouth. Oh man, I wish I hadn't looked. The pain was starting to kick in.\n\nThe devil sat at his fiery desk clicking away on his laptop in front of me. \n\n\"Hmm wow, you barely even got here at all! First time I've seen that, you should be proud! Looks like we've got you under our jurisdiction for breaking a Matthew 7:13. First one I've seen for that. You're pulling all kinds of firsts on me today! Tell you what, how about I let you be the first to try out my new sandpaper Fleshlight, for, oh I dunno, the first 500 years? Yeah, that sounds great, alright, well I'll see you then to redo your schedule, enjoy your time in hell!\"\n", "“Erm, hello?”\n\nMy voice echoed through the pristine streets. Marble pavement stretched down gently curving streets lined with quaint white-faced townhouses. Handicraft stores were bedecked with colourful bunting. French patisseries wafted the scent of fresh baguettes, croissants and éclairs directly into my soul. I remembered these places, from somewhere, or some time… \n\nFurther along, I could make out the sign for Pomodoro’s, the adorable and affordable restaurant that I had become enamoured with in Sicily. Opposite that was the recognisable geometric boot-shaped logo for Svensson, arguably the only place to pick up quality men’s shoes in Zurich. The further I looked, the more I saw: picture perfect postcards, places that had won a place in my heart before the accident. In the rows behind the current street, skyscrapers and palaces from London, New York and Madrid splayed out in a carefully curated arrangement. \n\nAbove, an azure field was the stage for a fluid performance of platinum clouds and a dancing cluster of starlings. Big sky scenes like this had always captured my imagination. \n\nSo where was everyone? \n\nI had a sense that if I entered a restaurant, exactly what I wanted would be waiting on the table. In the stores, my choice of items would already be beautifully bagged beside the unmanned cash register. \n\nMy procession continued along slowly. My head told me I should be panicked, but in this place it didn’t feel like it was a possible option. I suddenly only understood negative emotions on a theoretical level – the actual experience would now forever elude me. \n\nApproaching a corner, a stainless steel payphone trilled gently with a sound softer than birdsong. I picked up the receiver. \n\n“Welcome, Peter. I do hope you’re settling in well. I won’t bother you too much unless you should like me to.” The voice modulated with smooth fluidity. It sounded simultaneously like my mother and my father; my kind great-aunt and my second boss who was more decent to me than any other employer. My second-grade teacher when I told him I was being picked on, and the lunch lady who would give me extra chicken nuggets for being ‘so adorable’. \n\n“Hello. Do forgive me, but are you g-”\n\n“Don’t trouble yourself with such questions now, my dear friend. We’re past that now. I am whoever you always thought I would be.”\n\n“Oh.”\n\n“I think you’ll find everything is exactly as you’d like it to be. When you get tired, you’ll find places to rest precisely where you think you should. First apartments, five-star hotels, Highland castles… the works. Childhood pets, favourite outfits and forms of entertainment will also become apparent as and when you need them. Anything else, do just let me know.” \n\n“Thank you very much. But, um, sir? Where is everyone else?”\n\n“Everyone else?” The voice inclined in well-meaning jest. “No, none of that. Thankfully.”\n\n“But why?” I ask, trying to sound hurt but finding it beyond impossible. ‘Hurt’ no longer makes sense to me. \n\n“My dear boy, you’re in heaven. And as everyone knows, hell is other people.” " ]	5
	[WP] "I have to lose my virginity, now..."	[ "\"Come on Katy you gotta help I need to lose my virginity Now!\" Steve yells paying no attention to all of the people staring at him.\n\n\"Dammit Steve why are you telling me this? And why the fck do you need to now?\" \nKaty yelled at Steve while tapping her foot like a pissed off jackrabbit. \n\n\"You don't understand Katy I'm an incubus, I just awakened like last week and if I don't get some I'll starve!\" Steve at this point reeked of desperation. The blond haired man looked like a junkie with pale skin, stubble and the shakes as though to finish the junkie image.\n\n\"If you are an incubus shouldn't this be easy? Hell look at that girl over there\" Katy pointed a small diminutive girl with thick rimmed glasses wearing what looks to be her grandmother's sun dress. Sticks out quite a bit from the sleezy bar they were hanging out in.\n\nSteve shook his head \"No, she's too hot I'll get nervous\". Katy looked insulted \n\n\"If she's too hot why are talking to me?\" Steve shut his mouth there was no way he was getting out of this. \nKaty continued \"Fuck you Steve\". She walked out the bar.\nAfter spending a few moments to stare at Katy's ass, Steve ran after her to stop her but no one else was there. Steve cursed at himself.\nAnd walked back into the bar to try his luck\n\nSteve starved to death the following morning.", "\"I have to lose my virginity, now; not tomorrow, not next week and certainly not next year,\" she says.\n\n\"This is totally the wrong way to respond to what I just said,\" I say. \"As much as I would positively love to fuck your brains out right now, I don't want to do that. Our relationship is not built to last, and I don't want to keep going out with you for weeks just because I feel guilt for one night.\"\n\n\"You won't want to leave me afterwards.\"\n\n\"You say that, but it's not true.\"\n\n\"And how would you know. You haven't ever fucked before.\"\n\nShe's right. And I had never told her anything that would cause her to doubt that. But I was still self-conscious about it. I guess it's because, until the not-so-distant past, women wouldn't even give me so much as a second look. But she did, and that's what matters.\n\n\"We could you back to the hot tu...\" I begin saying before she cuts me off.\n\n\"My parents will be home by 12. Come on,\" she says, pushing my back down onto her mattress. \"I know you had already seen my little pill collection when you were snooping around my bathroom.\"\n\n\"Wha...what? Why would you think that?\"\n\n\"Next time close the freaking medicine cabinet's door.\"\n\n\"Okay. What if I told you that I didn't care to lose my virginity to you?\"\n\n\"Then I'd tell you that you're a goddamn liar,\" she says, as she slowly slips her shirt off. \"I know you've always wanted to.\"\n\n\"You drive a hard bargain, but I think I'm going to have to pass.\"\n\nShe kisses me, but in the sloppy manner where her lips are making contact all around the lower portion of my face. Slowly, and without warning, the smooching travels downward to my neck. Button by button, she undoes my shirt, still kissing my chest before going down.\n\n\"Are you sure about that?\" she says.\n\nI don't say anything. I just smile. ", "As the evening grows dusky and the wedding guests begin to disperse, I make my way to the country club’s powder room. To my surprise, Deb is there, slumped in an armchair, a cloud of white lace and puffed sleeves. \n\n\n“Oh, Sue”, she says tiredly, “it’s good to see you.” “Debby, what’s wrong?” “Don’t worry about me, I’m just not used to all the festivities, and, well, I don’t usually drink. It doesn’t seem to agree with me.”\n\n\nI resist the urge to laugh: even in college, I was the tomboy, drinking and smoking and swearing like a man, while Deb delicately sipped her spritzer. “Aww, darling. Let me get you some water. You’ll want to be feeling better before tonight, I’m sure.” \n\n\nFar from cheering her up, the innuendo hits something inside of her, and her eyes grow deep and cold for a moment. “And I’m sure Jim will be forever grateful to you”, she replies, her usual spunk returning. She stands, moving to the washbasin to freshen up, and that’s when I notice.\n\n\nShame on me for being fooled. Debby’s voice is soft and precise; her are eyes sharp if not bright; her posture is impeccable even in high heels on a tiled bathroom floor. My best friend is not drunk in any sense of the word, and I tell her so. The deepness comes back into her eyes.\n\n**\n\n“You’re right, of course you’re right, you’ve always understood me. The fact is… I’m not happy.” “Deb. Is it about Jim? Is he not treating you right?” I thought I knew Jim, but the fact is that some men are just different around their women. What an ugly thought.\n\n\n“No,” she says, quickly, “Jim’s fantastic, you know him, he’s so kind to me, and so funny. It’s…” – she pauses, a pause that holds worlds, a pause that lets me fall into the deepness of her eyes. “Remember, junior year, the party on Hampden Road?”\n\n\nDespite her sadness, I have to laugh. “Oh, with the wine…my god, that was when you kissed me and then disappeared! …I see. You were with another man that night, Deb, weren’t you? That’s all right, Jim won’t divorce you. Happens quite often in this day and age, I’d say.”\n\n\nDeb shakes her head, a single curl coming loose from her chignon. “No. I disappeared that night because I had realized something. I like girls, Sue. When Jim and I kiss, it’s not right. But when I kissed you that night, it was right. I’m sorry.”\n\n\nShe doesn’t stop. There’s no room for stopping between her words. “If you tell anybody this I’ll blame it on jealousy, jealousy that you aren’t engaged yet. But there you are. I hope we can remain friends, but if we can’t, I understand, it’s a night for losing things. I have to lose my virginity, now…”\n\n\nThe new Ms. Deborah Hunt stands, her petite frame managing to look regal, and sweeps out of the restroom in a swirl of gown and veil and rose perfume. I am left there, staring at nothing in particular, listening to the slow drip of a leaky faucet.\n" ]	3
The Sentinelese are aggressive to outsiders and will try and kill anyone who tries to come ashore.	[WP] You're a member of the violent and aggressive Sentinelese people. Retell the history of what made your people go from being peaceful to violent.	[ "The rest of the world assumes we're \"savages\", let them. Humans are born savages, all of us. What they think doesn't concern you or me. Our job is greater than that.\n\n\"But Jara, why aren't we allowed to speak to them?\" \n\nThe children of the village sat around the fire, eyes glistening, and wide with interest. This story had been repeated since they were old enough to understand language itself, but Jara, having just grown into manhood, was instructed by his elders to repeat the story while they listened in the background. They had no other means to pass on information through time, so it was of the utmost importance that the younger generations understood the importance of this story and were able to retain its accuracy. It was embedded into their culture as protection for their people, and also for protection of mankind. \n\nJara stirred the fire with a long stick and considered the question thoughtfully.\n\nThere was a time the Sentinelese people did not live on this island. Our people were scattered across the planet. Imagine islands so huge it would take years just to walk from one side to the other. The world is a very big place...\n\nOther tribes lived amongst us. There was no violence or war between men, we lived in peace for a time. But it is human nature to always want more, and with our intelligence, we developed ways to give ourselves more. We produced technologies you will never encounter in your lifetime, even humans that live today cannot imagine what once existed. \n\nThe humans today assume that because they cannot find evidence of technology in the past, that past generations of people were not as smart as they are. But they are looking for technology similar to what they have now. What we had was so far advanced that it will take hundreds of years for them to come close to the technology that was being used, if they did find artifacts or proof, they wouldn't even know it. \n\nBut they didn't realize the technology they were using was killing them. To produce it meant killing a great deal of other life in our world. \n\n\"Like flowers and trees?\"\n\nYes, like trees and nature. But also animals. Other sentient creatures who no longer exist in our world. Even things we can't see, bacteria and viruses. They placed such a great importance on what they were creating that they didn't realize how much they were losing. Eventually it began killing them. Humans forgot that they relied on nature for their survival, but they began to think of themselves as God's. But no human can grow food out of dust. No human can breath polluted air and remain healthy.\n\nMany people died. More people than I can explain to you. All of those very important technologies died off with them. \n\nThe few people that did remain alive swore to protect nature, and by doing so, protect their own future generations. But people tend to ignore the past, humans often believe they are smarter than their ancestors. A war broke out between humans who wanted to continue to abide by the new law, and those who no longer believed the history. Tribes scattered across the world. Many fled to the less populated West. We moved to this island. Whether or not there are still people like us anywhere else in the world we don't know, and it makes no difference. \n\nIt is obvious to us that humankind is following the same pattern as before, they are producing remarkable works of technologies. This, children, is what we must avoid if we are to remain alive. Technology leads to death. Since we have no way of knowing how many people like us still exist in this world, we have to protect ourselves and ensure death never reaches this island. We may be the only people left to repopulate the earth when humans eventually destroy themselves. \n\n\"It makes me sad Jara.\"\n\nMe too. It makes me sad too.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "As we gather around the dying light of our bonfire, elders in the inner circle, warriors in the second, and women with squirming young ones standing on tip-toe to get a peek at the ceremony unfolding. It begins as it always has, back to the dawn of our people. Pairs of warriors eye each other across the flames. Some fight for the love of a woman, others for vengeance…or justice, which makes little difference to me as it all boils down the same end result. Blood. Taka-tei is the favored and many a man has bet his allowance on the outcome. Standing 6”1’ with a wiry frame and the jaw of the great white he slew in his “becoming trial” mounted on his head he is an imposing figure. Twirling the three pronged trident he favors, his face is stoic. Displaying no trace of the tsunami of emotions flooding his mind, fear, courage, and a calm that only comes to the seasoned warrior, all wrestle in the sands of his mind. But this is a night to be brave, this is a night to make reality of all his dreams. Saru-tana the beautiful women looking down from the dais where she sits with her father chief wu-ku-tu. She smiles down at him. And he stares stoically back, the only hint of emotion comes from his hand as he grips the small piece of strange cloth called “silk” that she bestowed on him as a favor for his upcoming fight. \nAcross both sand and fire stands his opponent Na-me-shala chief of the uru-teis and their finest fighter.he stands nearly as tall as Taka-tei but with the muscles of three men. In his hand he holds a shark tooth sword, a fine instrument which he plays with the perfection of a man who has been on this holy sand more times than I have fingers to count. But he is all muscle and no brain as our wise man explains to me. The uru’s do not choose a chief as we the Ala-akudays do. They pride themselves on strength of body and heart, but not of mind. Our chief must be wise, for we have many warriors who have the bodies to fight. They are as spears in the hands of our chief, for what is a tool without the hand to use it? That is our philosophy, that is our way and it has served us since the dawn of days, when the ancestors of all the four tribes were as one. Back when the first boats of our people crossed over from the rising sun, and met those men who came from the setting. In such a paradise as is our island our people easily found the similarities rather than differences and within a generation we had merged into one family, one tribe, one people. \nYo-kam-sun-ten the high shaman of the island walks to the center of the circle. Only a high shaman may have the four names, while a chief is honored with three. A warrior and his family are awarded two upon completion of his first successful hunt. He cries out in a feral howl signaling the start of the prelude to the fight. Silence, a bird shrieks in the distance, a child cries into his mother’s breast.\nThe wise man clears his throat, and in a strong voice begins to tell the story of us. “When we came to this island in the long ago, we found a paradise. Men from setting and rising sun, separated by miles uncountable, the mountains high, jungles thick and oceans deep conspired to keep us apart and ignorant of other ways. But together we were strong, we learned from each other and shared openly this island and it’s treasure to all who would seek it. But after many moons a third tribe descended upon us. In ships that cut the water with sails larger than five canoes they came, their ship belching fire and strange rocks upon our shores. They cut our people down with impunity, and without mercy. But our warriors were clever! Our chief knew there could be no peace here, from men with strange clothes and hair that covered their faces who killed the five tribesmen who rowed out to meet them. So we waited in the jungle and watched these strange men, where were their women? What rock were the strange swords they carried made from? They did not speak our tongue and met any attempt to trade with fire and thunder. An enemy had appeared, and our warriors howled for vengeance. Charge with battle cries on our lips some shouted. Sneak in at night and take them unawares said even more. But our wise man was above these ideas. To trap a shark you need only cut its fin, for without it he cannot swim. So we must do to these outsiders! Take the ship, trap the crew and slowly over time, in hit and run raids we shall whittle down these devils into a stick we can break. And so it was done, in the dead of night their ship was taken by ten canoes carrying 9 men each. While at the same time we skirmished with them at their camp, retreating slowly into the jungle they followed like a rabbid dog as we knew they would. But they followed to their doom. We descended on them like locusts, from all directions. They fought bravely, wildly, with discipline and ranks of men holding as one. But we were the many and they the few. As the sun rose one man lived. A timid one found hiding amongst the corpses. A coward by all accounts, yet invaluable if we could learn his tongue. Over the course of five moons we learned from this man all we could of his people. What we heard scared our warriors greatly, for this was but one ship of 100’s in a land far to the setting sun called Ang-land. Our wise man held a vote, open to all people of the island as this was a decision that would affect us all. It was nearly unanimous we would avoid these people at all costs. We would hide in the jungle until they had passed, but if they were to land no quarter would be given. With blood the pact was signed by both the Ang-lander and our wise man. He was to deliver this plank of palm with the hand prints of both dyed in blood upon it to his chief. But the Ang-lander was a devil and double-crossed our cheif. For many times over the moons we have had to rally against the outsiders that profane our island with a thirst for blood. But we shall keep our island, we shall fight them on the beaches, in the jungle, in our very villages if we must. For we are as one! We are the Sentineleese!” \n\nIf anyone wants to finish the fight go ahead, you have my blessing. Just please send me a link when you post please so I can read it too!\n", "When there were only two, a man and a woman, the white man came. He danced across the water. She was alone when he gave to her food and drink. She became aware that she was naked, seeing his clothes. She became aware that there was a world outside of the island for the first time. She ran to find him, the other one like her. \n\nWhen he awoke from his hammock in the tree to hear her shouting for him he was afraid. He grabbed the fish and bird stick and ran to the beach. \n\nWhen he saw the man he was afraid. He raised the spear to throw, but the white man was faster. From his hand a noise erupted that made all the birds fly. \n\nShe could not run to him because she was with child. This is why we kill them. They have killed your father. We must breed until there are enough of us to kill them for what they have done.", "The legend. We hear. Hear of it from our ancestors. They talk to us in the time of dreaming. They tell us what happened. Fear. Pain. We were great, powerful. Spears, bows, conquering islands. Then a powerful force comes. Great boats. Fire that killed our people, fire that took shape, shards of metal ripping us apart. Men with white skin, conquering us, the conquerers. The men with white skin who had subjugated the gods. We were chained beaten enslaved. Sent down to the mines. Mines with dark gas, alluring. Our ancestors lost their sight. Lost minds, sanity snapped like glass. We had rebelled at times, only to be quelled by the fire-tubes of the white-men-god-killers. Then the voices came. Other gods returning to us, commanding us. They spoke to us through the gases of the mines. Those who did not go to the mines did not hear the gods. We abandoned them. Then we were given a Way. To escape this fate. Defeat the white men. \n\nWe broke into their homes. Found their wives, little ones. Their fire-tubes. Blood, we took their arms. Legs. Skin. The men fought back, their eyes like ours now sanity snapped like glass. We killed them. No more came. \n\nNow we keep our solitude. We keep our gods. Trust no one. " ]	4
	[WP] A elite group of germs form an extremely complex plan to reach the potato chip on the floor in less than 5 seconds	[ "This is it, the moment we've spent our whole lives training for.\n\nI put on my helmet, my breath turning to mist as I exhale slowly, trying to bring my heartbeat down. No soldier is efficient when he is nervous.\n\nI look at my brother on my right. He nods at me and smiles, but I know that deep down he is terrified. I was always the brave one, but he is the smartest. He knows what danger we're putting ourselves in. \n\n\"Soldiers!\"\n\nWe take our formation in front of the 1st Commander. He stares at us, his eyes cold as ice. \n\n\"You are the bravest, strongest, smartest of our kind, you have been through tests none have succeeded before you, your limits have been tested like no other. You were bred and born for this. Today, your skills will finally be put at use. Today, the famine plaguing our people will be over!\"\n\nMy heart fills itself with pride as the Commander's words echo on the walls surrounding us. We're ready.\n\n\"Section R-21, you will be going on a scouting mission. Study our ennemies, figure out where their food is. How do they protect it? How many guards? Gather as much information as you can.\"\n\nThey salute, and leave. Good luck, friends.\n\n\"Soldier S-112, come forward\" I salute and walk to the front lines. \"You will be in charge of section R-23. You are to follow the scouts and wait for them in the forest. Stay hidden. You are to help the scouts if any situation comes up.\"\n\nMy section and I salute together. \"Sir, yes sir !\"\n\nWe march to the forest, which isn't too far away. We climb up a wall of rocks, and look for a place to stay while we wait for the scouts. There is a giant tree in the middle of the forest. We walk fast, reach it, and hide in the branches.\n\nA few minutes pass, then an hour, and then another one. Finally one of my comrades signals movements to the east. I make my way through the branches, and see the scounts running up to us.\n\n\"Soldier S-112! We're here to report our findings.\" I jump and land safely on the soft earth.\n\n\"What did you see?\", I ask.\n\n\"They are having some kind of celebration. Their chiefs are nowhere to be seen. Some of them are very drunk. From what we've seen, the meats and vegetables are heavily guarded in an ice prison. However, their potatoes are left unnatended.\"\n\n\"You did not see anyone?\"\n\n\"No. Not a soul in sight.\"\n\n\"Could be a trap.\"\n\n\"That's what we thought, but we were so close we could almost touch them, and no one came.\"\n\nIt doesn't make any sense. I think for a moment, and decide to wait for section S-25 to join us. I let them know of my decision, and we sent a few of them back just to keep surveillance.\n\nAnother hour passes, and section S-25 finally joins us with the 1st Commander at it's head.\n\n\"What's the situation, S-112?\"\n\n\"They are celebrating. A lot of alcohol has been served, most of them are incapacitated by now. They left their meats and vegetables in a giant ice prison, too dangerous to get to. But they left no one with the potatoes.\"\n\n\"Very well, this is where we'll start then.\"\n\nWe climb down the tree, and gather in our battle formation. A horn is blown, and the Gatherers arrive with carts. They make their way through the mass and place themselves in the middle. \n\nWe make our way to the ennemy's camp. Sure enough, they are all drunk, some of them passed out from the heavy drinking, others about to. Savages.\n\nWe spot our scouts near the potatoes, which are placed very high on some kind od platform. They are surrounded by a metallic material. This is why they say section R-21 is the most agile. The scouts signal that the potatoes can be pushed so that we can gather them from the floor. The Commander nods. He turns to us.\n\n\"Now, remember your training. Be fast. We have to get to the food in five seconds, less if possible, to get out of here before the ennemies realise what's happening. Lives are at stake, we cannot be caught.\"\n\nI feel my body tense. We can't fail.\n\n\"They are going to push, and then you run to the potato !\" He gives a signal to the scouts, and they start pushing.\n\nSuddenly, a big thundering sound stops us dead in our tracks. We freeze.\n\nThe Commander's eyes are wide. \"THE CHIEFS ARE COMING, PUSH, NOW!\"\n\nWe hear loud footsteps coming our way. I knew they were big, but they sound like giants! The scouts are sweating and breathless from the effort, but a potato is finally on the verge of falling over the edge of the platform. We have to keep going.\n\nDeep, distorted voices boom through the camp: \"Look at this mess! Sean, did you have a party while we were gone?!\"\n\nThe ennemies are starting to wake up! Adrenaline rushes through my body. For the first time in my life, I feel scared.\n\nThey start moving frenetically around us, realising what's happening. But we don't stop.\n\nThe potato finally falls in front of us, and we run to reach it.\n\n\"Really, Sean? You couldn't at least make sure that your friends wouldn't drop food on our newly renovated floor?! Look! There are chips everywhere!\"\n\nThe Gatherers get to the potato and try to load it on their carts. We stand in circles around them to protect them from the danger. This can't be happening. We can't die here, not now.\n\nMy heart sinks as the chiefs turn their attention to us. They are huge, taller than anything I've ever seen. I feel insignificant.\n\nThey unleash enormous animals who attack us with their giant claws. They get to the potato and take it away. We watch our last hope fly away and disapear in a big black tower.\n\nIt's over. I fall on my knees and let tears run down my face. I think of my parents, my wife, my son, who are waiting for my triumphant return. I see my brother scream of rage a bit further, and he sees me too. He runs to me and kneels before me.\n\n\"We did our best, brother. They were too strong.\"\n\nI nod slowly and look up, just to see a storm has started. The rain reaches us, burns us. The chiefs want us dead, and their wrath is mightier than anything I've ever experienced. They can create poisonous rain. I don't know how we ever thought we could succeed. I hear cries of agony, and join my voice to those of my comrades. My brother puts his head against my chest, and we slowly fall on each other. As they wipe us away, my last thoughts go to my people, who will die of hunger. I'm sorry we failed you.", "We all just sort of stared at Roger like he had grown a third flagellum.\n\n\"Are you out of your sodding membrane?\" John shot back, obviously un-amused. Roger's cytoplasm remained unflinching.\n\n\"We can do it.\"\n\nI couldn't tell if it was the aroma of the sodium filling the atmosphere or his words, but a sudden rush flooded through my ribosomes.\n\n\"Even if we could do it,\" Lenny shot up, having thus far remained silent in thought, \"There's no way to guarantee we'd be the only ones on the chip.\"\n\n\"Yeah!\" Jannette added, her phili quivering nervously. \"That chip could already be packed with bacteria from the table!\"\n\n\"Or the bag, even!\" John gruffly added. Roger just seemed to laugh as he shook his membrane slightly.\n\n\"You're right.\" he conceded. \"That chip could be packed with bacteriaphages, pollens...hell, maybe even some viruses.\" He pointed his flagellum towards the chip teetering miles above on the edge of the table.\n\n\"But if we want into that kid's stomach, we're going to have to be faster than the five second rule.\"\n\nHe could tell he almost had us. I couldn't believe I was even entertaining the notion, but the doomed oblivion of being a bacteria on the floor chilled me to the core. My proginators had spent eons just traveling across the linoleum just to get within the strike range of a human stomach. My DNA had ripped and replicated for thousands of generations just looking for this chance. Roger seemed to sense this, point a phili directly at me.\n\n\"This is our chance to make it to the big leagues. If you want to stay here and reproduce until another acid purge sends you way, be my guest. But I believe, deep in the amino acids in my DNA that if we work together, we can get on that chip before it even realizes it's dropped the chip.\"\n\nAs he finished, he reached out with his flagellum, holding it out between us all. I stared at it for a good while before I felt my cytoplasm shift on it's own accord. Slowly, I swam over and put my flagellum in. \n\n\"You're an idiot, you know that right?\" I said. Roger just beamed back.\n\n\"Loony as an amoeba.\"\n\nI looked back to Jannette and Lenny with a hopeful gaze. They glanced at each other for a moment before smiling and putting their flagellum in. We all turned towards the lone outlier and waited anxiously.\n\nJohn seemed to toss his organelles around uncertainly inside of himself for a long moment before giving a long, suffering sigh.\n\n\"I swear, if this is another vinegar chip, I'll lose it.\" he said begrudgingly before he too added his appendage. \n\n\"So what's the plan?\" I asked, now that the team had been assembled. Roger shot me a wall splitting grin, a dangerous glint flashing through his transparent body.\n\n\"That chip will be up in four, five seconds. We're going to need to be on it in less time than that.\"\n\n\"How fast are we talking here?\" Lenny asked.\n\nRoger laughed.\n\n\"How's two sound?\"\n\n*Disclaimer- I'm sorry I put very little research into actual bacteria organelles. This is just going off memory of Bio 1202." ]	2
	[WP] You are a henchman for a supervillian in a group of henchmen going after the hero 1 at a time, you start to ponder your choices in life.	[ "Number 13 is down.\n\nI am Henchman 42. I've worked for a variety of different villains for about 20 years now. I've always survived through hard work, not causing problems, and working with the union. When one villain gets carted off by a hero, the survivors get shipped out to a new villain. My current villain is Destructo the Destroyer...yeah, he really chose that for his name. He's in the final battle with The White Knight. I was told I'm supposed to sit up in the watch tower to make sure the newer henchmen follow protocol.\n\nNumber 5 is down.\n\nRight now we're up against The White Knight. He's one of those generic heroes. I think he has super skin or something, it would explain why he's not getting hurt by any one of us. \n\nNumber 22 is down.\n\nEvery single hero fight has the same exact style. We send in henchmen one-by-one until they beat us. Want to know why we're stuck with that fighting style? The union by-laws. Thanks to \"safety\" issues of multiple henchmen fighting a hero at once, we're not allowed to all go in. Ironic, right? Specially trained henchmen can do tag team fights, but those guys usually usually move from the Henchmen's Union up to the Minor Villain's Union, so they luck out. \n\nGreat, number 38 is down, I really liked that guy. \n\nYou know, I only became a henchman because one of my professors told me that you're supposed to hench a little before striking out into full villainy. Yeah, now I'm a career henchman! I have a god-damned PhD in-\n\nNumber 11 is dead? Geez.\n\nAnyways, I have a god-damned PhD in Murder and Mayhem! I have more experience than all of these \"super villains\" who I work for. Once Destructo the Destroyer is beaten, I think I'm going to finally go for it, I'm going to fin-\n\nWow, 57 is gone. \n\nNow 6.\n\n47.\n\nDestructo the Destroyer is beaten, too. The White Knight is just gloating about his victory. \"Clever\" wordplay? Gross. He's just going on and on about how this is some huge victory for mankind. \n\nYou know what? No one has tried shooting the White Knight. I have a rifle, right here. I'm gonna do it. I'm going to pull the trigger...\n\nI did it. I shot the White Knight, I shot Destructo the Destroyer, I'm free. I can be my own villain now.", "You know, you see this shit all the time in the movies. Good guy gets surrounded by bad guys, and, instead of doing the smart thing and attacking all at once, the bad guys decide to go for him one at a time. It's a plot device, of course, so the hero can actually have a chance to take down everyone so they can inevitably save the day. At least, this is what I thought when I went into this whole 'henchmen' thing.\n\nNo one ever told me that it was actually a part of our training\n\nBullshit, is what it is. I guess the villains aren't really in it to win it, you know? They just like causing mild inconveniences for the hero. Bunch of grade school shit.\n\nDammit.\n\nIf you're wondering what exactly I'm up to right now, I'm one of the guys hanging out in the circle of bad guys waiting for my turn. I was given some pretty strict instructions to enter after the tenth guy goes down, which makes me number eleven. Isn't that just swell?\n\nOh, there goes number three. Poor guy. That's definitely gonna hurt in the morning.\n\nYou know, I often wonder just how exactly I got here. I mean, I was a decent guy, making a decent living. Was just your average Joe...... Maybe that was it. Maybe I was sick of just being that guy next door, sick of all the...the averageness of my life. I don't know. Whatever the case is, here I am now, watching this guy take down number six. I mean, Jesus Christ, is this guy on steroids? Fuck. \n\nAt least the pay's good.\n\nShit, eight's down. Oh God, I'm gonna be up soon.\n\nSayonara, nine.\n\nFarewell Ten.\n\nWelp, here I go. Wish me luck, because I'm gonna fucking need it. ", "The familiar experience of the wind being knocked out of him had forced Segretto's eyes to go wide and see what was happening before him for perhaps the first time. The sound of shouting seemed alarmingly present and real where before, through the stupor of excitement and endorphin it had all seemed less relevant, less threatening. Something about being unable to do the most simple thing had caused the 30 year old with shoulder length blonde hair to reanalyze everything that was going on.\n\n\"Keep him circled, don't let him fuckin' hide\", shouted a familiar voice. It was Miller, the hard ass that felt being accountable for a mere five lackeys like Segretto gave him right to act like he could control all forty of them. His cap was blue instead of the base green Segretto wore to signify his role in the chaos. Segretto knew others were here, but it was only Miller's voice he heard in the chaos.\n\nMiller was right, though. The jackass that had knocked Segretto back with an effortless elbow was the 'vigilante' known as Chromeleon. The guy's suit was one of the inventions of his big boss, a shiny gel-filled suit with that liquid-to-solid material you always hear about in the military channels, only this suit somehow returned back to liquid as long as it had the juice. If that didn't prove the genius of it's inventor enough, the thing could cloak it's wearer in an instant. Not only did this self-righteous schmuck steal it for himself, he was using it to fight this damn war against the big boss. That theft alone had doubled the security group and led to Segretto's recruitment by Miller not two weeks prior.\n\nHe found his first gasp of air, grateful that the signs of recovery had started and begun to recompose himself. At least a dozen of the security group laid incapacitated or worse by this point, which was an entire third of them. Miller's plan of surrounding him and wearing him out as long as possible was shit if no one of them could even seem to wear him down. Whomever the hell the Chromeleon was, he was good... and it was making Segretto angry.\n\nHis mind flew at a rapid speed, resurging to the forefront all the molten memories of his failures. Failure to be worth his Dad sticking around, failure to figure out how to make friends or fit in growing up. Failure to stay out of trouble chasing a purpose in life. Segretto had learned to see failure as the antimatter version of purpose, setting back the progress of ambition with equal force and exploding violently if ever the two were to meet. He could imagine Neil Degrasse Tyson explaining it in his smooth tone with the backdrop of this very fight in front of him and the very scientific example of failure was none other than himself. \n\nThe crown of failure rang loudly as Miller's head hit the floor of the old warehouse with a sick thud. Chromeleon had broken through their circle and was sowing chaos as he now saw fit, sometimes taking down two or three where only one had presented himself as ready. He was able to effectively pop in and out of camouflage at will now and none of them were ready for it.\n\nThe squalor of screams, shouts, and confusion rose ever more loudly, only to be silenced as they all fell - leaving only Segretto and Chromeleon to stand, facing eachother. \"There's always one that regrets too late\", his foe said in gravel tones. Segretto would imagine he could sing a mean Leanord Cohen song if he tried. \"Well, I'm not sure you even realize it, but I see the spark of realization in there.\". Chromeleon rose a finger as if he could point out the exact spot of it. \"You know, this is cliche but I was just like you once...\"\n\n\"It ain't regret\" Segretto spoke up. \"And what is this bullshit? I ain't anything like you!\"\n\n\"Man,\" Chromeleon said with a shake of his head, \"I know. You're angry, life's been shit, but it doesn't have to be like this. I know that look in your eyes! Now look, look and understand!\" Chromeleon reached to his face and flipped open his visor, revealing the wrinkled face of none other than the big boss himself.\n\n\"What? What? I don't understand... I.. why?!?\", stammered Segretto. \"Oh, it's quite simple, man. I take people looking for trouble that I can find, keep them from doing any real crime. You ever notice the lack of deadly weapons among your peers? I'm honestly surprised any of you stick around. Better fun for me, I suppose. Besides, what genius would I be if I let just anyone steal my things? I'm the only one that can work this, man.\" He smirked smugly, filling Segretto with unease.\n\n\"What are you going to do to me?\", the lowly henchmen asked flatly. \"Now that I know... Are you-\" \"Yes\", interrupted Chromeleon as he pulled a blade from his side pocket. \"I do apologize. Am I good, am I bad? Such drivel but it must vex you so. Thing is, man? There is no good or bad, just those with gusto, with drive...!\"\n\n\"With purpose.\" Segretto agreed, his heart sinking. He closed his eyes and received the business end of the blade across his neck. It was a pain worse than anything he'd ever felt, but it was quick. Segretto slumped against the wall and found a small peace in his final thoughts that at least he didn't have to deal with the bullshit of this life anymore.\n\nEdit: Some cleanup. Typos, clarifications, etc.", "Ten little henchman boys had one goal in mind, but one got choked out and then there were nine.\n\n\nNine little henchman boys fought to defy fate, one passed out from sheer exhaustion and then there were eight.\n\n\nEight little henchman boys hunted the hero of heaven, one got lost in the dark and then there were seven.\n\n\nSeven little henchman boys had to break down a wall of bricks, the wall collapsed on one and then there were six.\n\n\nSix little henchman boys thinking about their worst time of their lives, one was stung and broke just by the thought and then their were five.\n\n\nFive little henchman boys in trouble with the law, one was put behind bars and then here were four.\n\n\n\nFour little henchman boys tried to flee, but one swalled a fist and then there were three.\n\n\nThree little hench,an boys decided to see the fight thru, one was taken down by a bear hug and then there were two.\n\n\nTwo little henchmen boys decided tpit was a good time to run , one stayed back and then there was one.\n\n\nOne little henchmen boy new what had to be done, with a fear in his eyes he pulled the pin and then there was none.\n", "It's all become so unclear to me.\n\nA ringing in my ears. Everything in slow motion. My attention no longer focused. There are shapes moving in front of my eyes, but nothing I can recognize.\n\nMy head turns down to my feet and traces a path up my neighbor's leg until my foggy gaze orbits around the circle my comrades have formed. I begin counting.\n\nFifteen black masks, all staring directly into the nucleus of our ring with their yellow glowing eyes. The Invincible Man stands there effortlessly tossing aside the limp body of mask sixteen.\n\nI've stopped breathing. I don't understand. There are so many of us, and one of him. How did this happen? Why are we here? We've been trained for this by the greatest martial arts masters that money can hire, but still, the Invincible Man can wipe the floor with any one of us.\n\n...One of us..?\n\nFifteen steps in.\n\nNo. Something is wrong.\n\nMy eyes drop back down to my gloved hand, and I feel my grip tighten around the steel rod as if my arm were electrified.\n\nOne of us?\n\nYes. He can take any one of us. He's proven it time and time again against my friends and comrades, and right now is no different. We have been trained no better. We are doomed.\n\nAny one of us.\n\nThere is something so agitating about that phrase. It's as though there is something swimming in those words just beneath the surface, and I am hovering above it so close that I expect it to jump at me at any moment.\n\nFifteen is down in less than a second. In comes Fourteen.\n\nWait a second.\n\nWait a second?\n\nWhy? What am I waiting for?\n\nSixteen's body. Fifteen's body. Fourteen receives killing blow as Thirteen jumps in. Thirteen is down. Twelve is in. Down. Eleven. Down. Ten.\n\nOne of us.\n\nWait a second.\n\nMy eyes widen. My foot slides back. My grip tightens and then releases. My steel rod clatters to the wooden floor.\n\nNine.\n\nOne\n\nIt's all become so clear to me.\n\nEight.\n\nof\n\nSeven.\n\nus.\n\nMy eyes stay focused. I reach down and grab the steel rod.\n\nSix.\n\nMy pace quickens. I march toward the Invincible Man.\n\nA room full of black masks turn in my direction. They are confused. They don't understand what is about to happen.\n\nFive.\n\nI take my last step toward the Invincible Man. His back is to me. He is busy fighting number Four.\n\nThe steel rod raises almost by itself. My heart stops.\n\nThe rod propels forward.\n\nHis body drops.\n\nSilence.\n\nFour's mask turns toward me. Three's mask turns toward me. Two's mask turns toward me.\n\nI look up. Do they understand?\n\nThe Invincible Man looks up at me. Blood streams from the back of his head, coating the floor.\n\nFour looks back at Two and Three. They look back at the Man.\n\nThey look at me.\n\nI look down at the Vulnerable Man. I take a step back.\n\nOne of us.\n\nThey move toward him.\n\nI turn around and walk to the door in the rhythm of the three steel rods as they turn bones to powder.\n\nAny one of us.\n\nThe rod drops out of my hand. I open the door.\n\nFour, Three, and Two's synchronous strikes form a meter. The pulse echoes down the hall as I step forward.\n\nThey understand. The Vulnerable Man understands.\n\nWe are One." ]	5
	[WP] You are aboard Earth 2. Earth's massive, extraterrestrial colonization spacecraft. Traveling 99% the speed of light towards Proxima Centauri. About halfway to the star, the crew detects an object approaching. A few weeks later, the object is starting to become clearer, and it looks familiar.	[ "IMPERIAL EYES ONLY - DEBRIEFING - FILED 353737\r\rCLASSIFIED NG-10 BEYOND TOP SECRET\r\rLT. LANCER BRIGGS - BRIEF 1 - \r\rCONTACT \r\rThe claxon rang, illuminated red and green LED lights danced about as I stumbled from bed, overhead voices ordered battle stations. I see the hustle and bustle about, finding my jumpsuit, wading past the sea of Marines running to and fro from the barracks, pushing into the flight deck. Flight suit, helmet, flight controls, diagnostic, blue lights lit my HUD as I sat waiting for orders, staring at the hatch to open and launch away.\r\rNo one knew what was going on, my Flight-Brief log was empty, normally populated with schematics of possible enemy ships, mission parameters, and so on. I was worried, never had something like this happened before, our ship light years away from...anything.\r\rThe most senior officer on the flight pad: I'd flew in Martian Revolution, put down rebels. Laid waste to Jupiter mining fleets when they became quarantined, shuttled Marines into the Codavoan Abyss, and even fired my sidearm there. Earned me a medal for bravery.\r\rYet my gut told me different today, constantly refreshing my system for orders, damnit, just tell me what to do. My men kept hollowing at me over the comm, wondering what the hell was going on and why we were suited. We were all waiting, just for something to happen.\r\rThen something did, our deck guns opened up. Feeling the reverberation and hearing the grumble through my fighter, we were firing! At what? Damnit! I slammed my fist into the control panel, just as my hangar doors slid open. I didn't wait for a mission.\r\rBlowing my afterburners out the pad, and pissing off some deck hand, I launched into the empty void. My squadron right behind. Immediately my HUD turned violet, Scan-Array had a menagerie of signals. Mostly unknown radio frequencies bouncing about our vicinity. Not to unnatural in deep space, radiation tends to fuck with the scanners\r\rI barrow rolled as I did a 360 of the ship, looking for anything. Still nothing, no idea what we fired at. Several destroyers took battle formation around the carrier, there squads absent, must still be holding. Or so I thought. Another phasic torpedo blasted off ahead at 0 degrees, disappearing into the blackness of the void.\r\rThen I thought I saw, no just a reflection. Wiping the sweat from my helmet, I looked again as I tipped my ship slightly down angle. It was a fucking ship! Blocking the light of a nearby star, we were in its shadow. \r\rMaybe the size of twenty carriers, I couldn't believe it. The absolute size of it, like a dwarf planet floating toward us. \r\rBoth Sat and Scan-Array didn't show a God damn thing, my HUD still a blank void..." ]	1
	[WP]You are a villian now. Not a super villian, just a normal person that wanted to make a difference. What went wrong?	[ "It started a few years ago, and soon my story will end. I don't consider myself the villain, but perspective is one hell of a thing. I was a perfectly normal person. I had a husband, my beautiful son, and my own business, but none of that was meant to last. Killigan, a well know villain around here, challenged Alpha, our esteemed hero. Their fight lead to my bakery. They crashed into many of the ovens and sparks flew. I was trapped upstairs and my husband and son downstairs. I could smell fire and hear my son crying, but couldn't move I was trapped. After what seemed like hours, Alpha dragged me out and simply left to speak with police. Two stretchers lie not too far away. A broken cry left my mouth as I launched myself over. A paramedic grabbed me and explained they were dead, and could not be revived. In an instant my life was gone. The bakery collapsed behind me. I vowed to myself then, screw heroes and screw villains. If the villains were all dead however, heroes wouldn't be needed. So, I had to become what I once thought I couldn't do. To take out the villains I became one. I went after Killigan first. Then other locals. At that point fear began to strike each villain. Some hid, but I found them, others challenged the mysterious murderer and I gladly went to them. Some were harder than others. I spread out from being just local too. Towns nearby were swept of major crimes. Quickly, two years went by. No one could solve the mystery. A few \"heroes\" got close, but none actually found me until the day I screwed up. A camera saw my face and Alpha himself brought me in. He questioned me, but I stayed silent. I had been silent since that day years ago. So, here I am in a cell just after being sentenced. Solitary confinement, until my due date to be put down comes. I'll leave this for whoever cares enough to find out why \"Hero's Burden\" as they have taken to calling me did what I did. Here is my full confession: I have killed over thirty people in the last three years. I am proud of what I've done even if I had to follow that evil to destroy it, but you can relax knowing so many villains are gone and soon I will join them in that hell. ", "I'm a good person. I work, pay my taxes, recycle, drive a hybrid, volunteer around town, I even have a loving family...well, had a loving family. I really try to be good. But bad things keep happening around me. \n\nLike a couple months ago, I was simply minding my own business when a bank robber burst out of no where, hopped into my car, said drive, and just like that, I was an accomplice to a bank robbery. He handed me a wad of cash and thanked me for being his escape driver. I threw the money in a donation jar and just avoided that money. I know I should have turned it to the police and said I was under duress, but I don't think they'd believe me. \n\nA few days later, I was stopped by a few shady looking guys looking for a driver. I guess word spread of me, the unassuming looking guy who was a great escape driver. They said if I wanted my family to stay safe, I had to meet them at the abandoned warehouse on the edge of town (a tiny bit cliché if you ask me). When I met them, they had me drive to the middle of nowhere, where this small cabin was hidden in the woods. I think they killed some guy in there...yeah, I'm pretty sure they did. now I'm accessory to murder. They paid me more money and I donated most of it to charity. I used a couple hundred to get my kid some new braces. \n\nWell I kept getting asked to do these escape driver jobs because of how average I am. I had to keep doing it because they kept threatening my family. I even gained a street name, \"The Joe,\" for seeming like an average Joe but always getting the criminals where they needed to go. They even gave me a couple of enforcers to keep me protected. There were even a few jobs where I was in on the crime, which only got me more money. I really tried to get rid of that money so I wouldn't have all this unaccounted income. \n\nI even voiced how them paying me in illegal funds was causing me problems. You know what they did? They started laundering the money for me, making all my illegal income suddenly look like legal income. I get taxed on my criminal activities. I've tried to donate more money and really get rid of it, but my family loves the extra income. I had to tell them it was a promotion. I even have offshore bank accounts now.\n\nThen we come to two days ago. I was told that if I helped on this last job, I wouldn't be asked to do any more. This was the big one, they were going to steal a set of government records for a hefty price. Well, the crew said they wanted to put \"The Joe\" in the building first, posing as a janitor. I'm not a fan of this kind of stuff. They told me to get to the control room so I could unlock the security system for them. \n\nThe guard were \"busy\" at the time I was going in there (I'm pretty sure the crew hired some hookers to bribe him), so it wasn't that hard for me to get in. After unlocking the system, I had to sit down and think about what had happened to me. \n\nWell guess who accidentally armed the short-range missiles that were aimed towards the Statue of Liberty. Me.\n\nGuess who then activated the launch sequence on accident. Me.\n\nGuess who suddenly became one of the world's biggest criminals. Me.\n\nMy family was taken into protective custody while the Feds look for me. I'm in hiding now. Only the world's criminals can get in contact with \"The Joe.\" I guess I'm stuck wit-\n\nGreat, now someone wants me to take over a small country..." ]	2
	[WP] You have lived your life with an unidentified and unexplainable blood disease. During one of your many exploratory surgeries, the Dr has some blood taken from you just in case you lose too much in surgery. By mistake, a nurse gives your blood to a terminal cancer patient. It cures him.	[ "\"You mean my blood cures cancer, right?\"\n\nThe doctor stared at John, before replying \"Mr Smith, you should forget what miss Estela told you, she is an avid fan of Feng-Shui and Card Reading, that patient was already recieving chemotherapy, so the chances of your blood being the cause are slim-to none.\"\n\nJohn looked up, brighter than before, and with a wide grin said \"So you say there is a chance!\"", "Some people live, some people die. Some people live because others die. That’s life, and sometimes it’s so beautiful it feels like a miracle.\n\nBut this guy won’t leave my room. He’s crying and grabbing my hand, then pacing the room and harassing every nurse and doctor that walks in here.\n\n“Will he make it? Have you learned anything new? Do you think he can hear me?\"\n\nOf course they can only placate him with general answers. The gist of their responses basically summarize that the medically-induced coma has bought me some time, but they’re really not sure what more they can do. Oh, and yes I can hear him. They’re not sure about that part, but they tell him to talk to me anyway. Thanks everyone.\n\nI guess I can’t blame him; two weeks ago he was on the brink of palliative care, and now he’s apparently cancer-free. You wouldn’t know it, though. Instead of going home to celebrate with his family, he’s in here blubbering at my bedside. \n\nSometimes his wife joins him. She begs him to come with her; tells him it’s God’s will that he’s alive and that I’ll be rewarded for the sacrifice I made. \n\nNot that I really expected to sacrifice anything. \n\nI was excited to be a part of a scientific discovery, even though they characterized my particular blood type as being “diseased”. I was perfectly fine going under the knife, repeatedly, to help them better understand the medically anomaly. It made me feel kind of special. Plus, they gave me tons of financial compensation. The monetary reward greatly outweighed any risk that something might go wrong while I was on the table, and they also reassured me by saving a few pints “just to be safe.\"\n\nSomething eventually did go wrong. The doctor told me himself, confessing to me days later like I was his personal vegetable Jesus. \n\n“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was a simple surgery, and you should never have needed the blood.” \n\nWhen he paused, I wondered if he was crying, or maybe had left the room. But then he continued, as if reading me a dissertation on the defense of his actions. \n\n\"I needed to test my theory, and because of it, a man will live. Perhaps millions will live. Your blood just provided the greatest breakthrough of modern medicine. They’ll call it an accident, a stupid mistake made by a negligent nurse. But they’ll soon realize it’s a miracle. I’m sorry that it came at the expense of your own life.\"\n\nAt first I was livid. What right did this man have to play God? \n\nThen cancer-free Jim started visiting. He was guilt-ridden for “taking” my blood. He mourned for my family and obsessed over the things he would be able to experience that I wouldn’t. \n\n“I’ll get to grow old with my wife,” he whimpered. “You won’t even get to grow old.\"\n\nI was a lump between starched sheets, but I thought at that moment I might sit straight up and look Jim right in the eyes. “Go home Jim,” I’d say. “Kiss your wife and hug your kids and live a long life free of guilt.” Maybe I’d grab his arms or even his face to emphasize my point. \"I’m a miracle, Jim. Don’t worry about me, because I’m a fucking immortal miracle.\"", "\"Mom, dad, it's Courtney. I have good news and bad news. The good news, I discovered a cure for cancer at work today! Yes, for real! You can probably read my interview tomorrow in the paper, or online as soon as you get this message or whatever... It's really exciting stuff.\n\n\"As for the bad news, I got fired....\"" ]	3
Story, description, legends etc. Anything you can do to scare me. Bonus points if it's about an animal (like a giant squid). Inspired by the thread about the squid in r/videos	[WP] Scare me using my fear of the sea (thalassophobia)	[ "I am not deep enough for my body to collapse under the pressure. Only enough to feel the weight of this water I displace. I can see the sunken debris of the boat. If I look up, I can see the shimmering silhouettes of those I knew floating on the white, sunlit surface. I am too far for light to reach me. I do not know what surrounds me. I do not know what happened to the boat. I do not know how much longer the oxygen in my tank will last. \n\n\nHere is what I do know: I was vacationing with friends and family in Australia. Some of us wanted to dive in the cages with the sharks. We took the cheapest tour we could. The cages are big enough for only one person. When I went, something happened to the boat, and my cage was detached, sinking to seabed.\n\n\nI am too deep to be heard. I cannot open the cage. I don't know what's around me. Small thin things, maybe eels, can pass through the bars and slither against the wetsuit, between my legs or against my arms. Larger thinks can push the cage. Earlier, the sharks would rush the cage and bite the bars, then grow bored and leave. But whatever these things are, they don't do that. The shake and push and shift the cage, then stop for an unspecific, random amount of time that is never brief but never long enough to be comfortable, before they start against. \n\n\nBreathing is hard. The cage is 1 meter by 2 meters by 3. In this great dark oppressive being of fluidity and weight than has absorbed and encompassed me fully, this ocean, with depth and range that is unfathomable, I am still trapped in a cage. It's large enough to stretch my arms out, or lie down in, if I could, but this only creates the illusion of comfort, and size. I am still trapped, in the crushing unknown, with slick beasts that can't be seen that either ignore me and my fate, swimming through the bars I can't fit my wrist through, taunting me with their boundless freedom, or they are huge, with the strength and intelligence to grip the bars and push and move the cage, and these creatures are desperate to discover what is stuck inside, away from them. The cage is the only thing protecting me but it also my grave and my coffin, only protecting me to prolong what is to come, waiting me out, subjecting me to the cruelty of callous time, without empathy, for dread to build and oxygen to diminish, as I am forced to confront the greatest, most total, most utter reality there is.\n\n\nI will die.\n\n\nWhether I am torn apart, by sharp ivory or unknown arms of something strong and something smart, or whether my life supply is depleted first and I must choke on absence; no matter how it happens, it will happen, and it will happen here.\n\n\nI will die alone and in pain, in the eternal night of deep sea, where not even star light can (or, maybe, will) enter.", "Mr. Tunstall walked onto the deck and shielded his eyes from the sun. It reflected off the light colored wood of the newly washed deck and the pure white of the canvas sailsand caused such a start contrast with the airless, lightless darkness below that it took his eyes a moment to adjust. \n\t\n\nWhen he did he found something quite against his expectation. Universal apprehension was the only word to describe it. The captain paced his quarterdeck as he usually did this time of day, but he walked with his shoulders hanging low, and his head turned towards his shoes as though he didn’t want to meet the gaze of any man aboard.\n\t\n\nThe sailors too, looked troubled and some of the newer, greener hands looked positively panicked. The sails hung there flapping weekly in the sea air; there was not much of a breeze. \n\t\n\nMr. Tunstall was a passenger no more. He had paid his way for a voyage from Canton to London and although he had overcome his initial bout of seasickness he knew very little about the complexities of moving a ship through a limitless, horizon-less sea. \n\t\n\nIn his ignorance he turned to the ships Surgeon, their doctor. He was not the best authority on naval affairs but Mr. Tunstall had long since found that his accounts of life at sea were far less technical and more easily understandable than that of a common sailor. \n\t\n\n“Dr. Greene” he asked, “what’s afoot? Is there plague aboard? Are we to sink?”\n\t\n\n“Well sir” Greene said in a friendly voice, but one devoid of all cheerfulness, “a leak, a clear death wound would be mighty perilous to be sure. But what it appears we might have here is a far longer death sentence”. \n\n\n“How?” Tunstall asked, completely taken aback. \n\n\n“Well sir, look around you. It’s a total dead calm. No breeze to fill the sails and therefore no way to sail away from that damned rock”. \n\n\nThe rock in questions was Martin’s island, now only a couple thousand yards away on the starboard bow. It had been explained to Tunstall the night before that the island was completely inaccessible. Sheer rock in the form of towering cliffs on all sides; a certain wreck to any ship that got too close. \n\n\n“Certainly an island, even an unhospitable island can’t possibly be our ruin” Tunstall said, shocked. “With us seeing it so soon. Surely the ship still steers? Can we not bear away, or bear up and avoid ruin?”. \n\n\nAt this Dr. Greene gave a laugh at Turnstall’s simplicity, his complete lack of knowledge of maritime life. \n\n\n“Oh sir” he began, “If there were a breeze we would have steered to avoid the island long, long ago, before she ever came into sight. And it shouldn’t have been hard neither since the winds are usually so regular in this part of the ocean. But what’s bringing us in is the current. Every minute the current is drawing us closer to those cliffs and the steering don’t matter. It’s a god damned clock calms and unless the breeze lifts up, we’ll be dashed onto the rocks and wrecked by dinnertime”. \n\n\nAt this the Captains tense nerves finally snapped and he shouted aft, “Mr. Goodall will that boat ever be hoisted down or does a more competent officer have to supervise the proceedings?!?”. \n\n\n“They're lowering the boats” Greene began in response to Tunstall’s questioning stare. “They’ll hitch a towline to the boats and try and tow the ship away from the current”\n\n\n“Well that sounds absolutely foolproof” Tunstall said, he had seen the boats warp the ship in harbor dozens of time. \n\n\n“Maybe” Greene said, “But what can men do in such a current? And how long can they pull in such a heat? Even for their lives? There is no telling”. \n\n\n“Dr. Greene” the Captain began sternly, “perhaps you best go below and prepare the sick bay. There may be some invalids by the afternoon.” \n\n\nThe Captain was as distressed as all the hands and he had grown annoyed by Greene’s proclamations of doom. He, like at least sixty of the seventy sailors aboard, could not swim. Not that swimming would do much against such treacherous, unforgiving rocks. \n\n\n“If I were you sir” Greene finished in a low murmur, “I would change into some light working clothes and maybe procure some sailcloth mittens. If the breeze don’t pick up, we’ll have to lighten ship. First the guns and then lord knows what else. Us landsmen will probably be set to the pumps, pumping fresh water over the side”. \n\n\nWith the Doctors disappearance Tunstall looked at the loosely hanging sailcloth and again at the troubled demeanor of the Captain. Then he cast another look at the sheer, razor sharp cliffs of Martin’s island, a full hundred yards closer than it had been when he came on deck. \n", "\"Help me!\" \n\n\"Help m-\" My scream was cut off as the water pulled me under again, and my world grew dark. It took all of my effort to break the surface, my muscles crying from exhaustion, tears masked by seawater. I knew, in the pit of my chest, i was going to die. \n\nThe sea surrounded me, dark and terrifying. Waves buffeted me, and the soft tug of the water beneath me warned i would be yanked under soon again. My breathing grew more rapid, my heart tried escaping my chest, my eyes grew bloodshot and i began to give up, i began to surrender. I wanted someone to help me, rescue me, save me from this cold, wet hell. But, i was alone. \n\nOr so i thought. \n\nIt started off as a movement in the corner of my eye, a small breach among the waves. I turned, panicking, throwing water up, my legs dangling into the blue darkness below. I prayed i had only been seeing this in my exhaustion-fueled state. \n\nThen i saw it. It breached only for a moment, a single, sleek tentacle brushing the surface, bringing full-blown panic with it.\n\n\"Help me! Help!\" But nobody could hear me. Nobody except the squid. \n\nThere was nowhere to go, all i could see around me was water. I was going to die, and nobody would know where, or what killed me. \n\nAnother tentacle breached, this one larger and faster. I couldn't see the source of the appendage, but i knew it was near me, hiding in the dark water.\n\nFor a brief moment i thought it had left, as i was left alone among the waves. All i could hear was my own panting, my own whimpers. I counted the seconds, and said every prayer i knew.\n\nThen it grabbed me. I didn't even have a chance to scream. \n\nI was pulled under immediately, cold terror filling me. I reached up, hoping to grab onto something, anything, to save me. The last thing i saw was the sun, disappearing as i fell deeper into the abyss.\n\n" ]	3
Create something good out of one of the worst writing cliches out there! :)	[WP] Write a successfully engaging story that ends in the line "And then I woke up"	[ "In a sandy clearing on a jungle shore, a whole village rattled and shrieked in mourning. Ten warriors had returned from a fierce battle, of four dozen, and the village was sending off their dead in their traditional way. As the wise man's song reached it's crescendo, so did the women's lament. Then, as the chief warrior's hand slipped off the last funerary boat, the whole village was suddenly went quiet like an animal playing dead. Five boats drifted into the vast and unknown ocean, with two dead men apiece. The village lowered their eyes and departed the scene, now with all but the children chanting an ancient dirge.\n\nTrails of doves feathers decorated the soft wakes as the elaborate boats drifted off with the tide. Soon they diverged with the subtle winds and currents and after some time they were not in sight of each other or of land. In this mysterious expanse they drifted presumably towards some dreamlike shore where they would all be kings. On one boat a lover left a shimmering necklace, of bronze, around the head of the fabric draped body. A gull must have been attracted by the sparkling, or maybe the feathers, because it flew down curiously to peck at the shrouded face. And then I woke up.\n\n", "I met someone today. Not just anyone, but the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and her name is Stacy. She was walking down the street, and someone almost hit her, only I pulled her out of the way. It was such a rush. We ended up falling backwards and I hit my head on a pole but it was worth it. She took me to dinner tonight and we actually get along really well. I hope we go out again.\n\nStacy and I have been dating for a month now. It feels good to have found someone I get along with so well and am really attracted to. I'll be finishing college up next semester. I'm really excited, since this winter is also going to be really cold and I want it over with already. Hopefully I can get a car soon, too. I hate walking in the cold air, but she is so worth it.\n\nGraduation ceremonies are overdone, but still nice to get recognized for what I've done, even if I'm only on that stage for a few seconds. My parents have apparently been saving up to get me a car and they got me one just weeks before the ceremony. This is such a great day! So happy with my life now! Hopefully, if I land a job, Stacy and I can move in together next winter!\n\nI'll always remember that summer day. It was so hot and I really wanted to go to the pool. But instead, I went to the lake with Stacy and a couple of our friends. There was another family there, but the lake is big enough for everyone. We were having a blast until the family there began panicking. They were screaming and calling 911. We ran over to see what happened and one of the children had drowned, but they got her out. She wasn't breathing though and I was the only one who knew CPR. I started working on her and I just couldn't get her to breathe. Thirty seconds went by. Sixty. One hundred twenty. After eight minutes and thirty two seconds they finally got me to stop. I just couldn't. I wanted to save that girl. Stacy stayed with me that night. I didn't sleep much. And when I did, I couldn't even save her in my dreams.\n\nStacy moved in with me the weekend following Valentine's day. Our steady jobs and my apartment is a great way for us to keep moving forward. We still have plenty of space and I couldn't be happier.\n\nA year has passed since the girl drowned. It still haunts my dreams sometimes, but today I received a letter from her family thanking me for having tried to save her. I didn't sleep much again this night.\n\nI've been with Stacy for four years. I just proposed to her last weekend. She said yes! I am so excited for this next step! Everyone has been saying \"It's about tie,\" and, \"I knew you two would end up together.\" My life is great! I could have never imagined it being so amazing.\n\nOur wedding was wonderful. We did all the traditions and the reception was a blast. Although, I got a little too tipsy and passed out before we even consummated our marriage. But, that's okay because she too fell asleep. In an empty bathtub. Cuddling the roll of toilet paper. I found the perfect woman.\n\nUltrasounds are weird. I could see our baby inside her. It is so strange. We named her Leanne. I'm so nervous for having a child. Especially after what had happened at the lake. I knew I can do it though.\n\nLeanne was born on a Tuesday. She is adorable. Big brown eyes. I couldn't say anything except that I was actually a dad. I couldn't believe it. When we finally took her home, I just slept right next to her crib in a chair. I was a family man.\n\nAt Leanne's graduation things were strange. There was a real lion handing out the diplomas. I guess it was just from the lack of sleep from having had to stay late at work recently. Joey and Nathan were acting up a little, constantly griping about how bored they were. Which was strange for them graduating in just a few more years.\n\nThe next morning Joey grew two feet taller. My cereal was filled with spiders. I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on.\n\nStacy decided that our marriage had reached its end that following night. Her and the kids all wanted to leave me. I asked why and couldn't believe it. Then she explained to me, \"Because, John, you're going to wake up soon. Haven't you noticed things getting weirder and more distorted since Jeanne's graduation? I don't know you. I never knew you. Ever since you pulled me away and hit your head, you've been in a coma. It's been five years. Stacy is your nurse. That's her voice that you've based mine off of. The kids are just other workers that you've heard often as well.\"\n\nI... I don't understand... How long-\"\n\n\"Five years. You have been out for five years. After you saved 'me' I was more pissed at the fact you broke my purse strap and kicked you in the head, which is probably why the coma lasted so long.\"\n\n\"No... this isn't right!\"\n\n\"Look at everything. It's all gone.\" And she was right. It was just us in emptiness. The kids had vanished and even she was beginning to disappear. \"Goodbye, John. Even though the me out there didn't love you, I always will. But it's time for you to get back into the real world and find me out there.\"\n\nShe was gone. My whole life was going to be so much different. I was trying to handle losing everything in an instant and I couldn't. And then I woke up.", "Carol’s laughter pealed from the backyard, her footfalls never quite catching up to the sound as she ran headlong across the lawn. \n\nIt had been years since I had heard that laugh. Even so I could tell at once it was her. My throat was tight and emotion welled up to my chest. It felt like finding something full of memories from a box tucked away long ago. I walked through the kitchen and stepped out onto the patio. \n\nThe sun’s glow peeked out from behind a puffy grey cloud. “Hey sweetie, I missed you.” I said. She beamed at me with her smile that lights up the world. \n\nAnd then I woke up." ]	3
	[WP] Mysterious spotlights appear on sinners across the world from the sky, they gradually dim or brighten depending their following actions.	[ "Dr. Marshall always keeps the room dimly lit. He says it’s precautionary, but honestly he probably does it so we can’t see the memorial pictures on the wall. The founder, Marcy Davis shakes hands with a white policeman from behind a glass 8x11 frame. Sixty years ago, this was controversial, a daring photo to boast on your wall in terms of race relations. Turns out Marcy’s skin pigmentation remains, to this day, a few shades too dark for the tastes of a couple of Dr. Marshall’s less progressive patients. So he dials down the brightness of the whole room.\nAt least that’s how I choose to see it. \nIt’s the only space that the good, virtuous citizens of Springfield would ever let Doc Marshall use, it’s a community center and of course, just a stone’s throw away from the city’s Beacon Task Force Department. \nWe meet weekly, on Fridays. Everyone’s ideal way to kick off the weekend, I’m sure. Parking is pretty tight for the 7 of us, meaning late arrivals are in for a good Christian showdown; I learned that pretty early in the game. You would think you were a teenage girl visiting Planned Parenthood with all the picket signs and protesting on the grounds out front. “You Can’t Be Saved” “He Didn’t Die for Your Sins” “God Hates You.” Sometimes I can avoid them altogether with a quick jog to the back entrance, and today I’m lucky enough to make it there.\nI walk down the corridor, dragging my knuckles across the ridges of its wood paneling. I hear the chairs already being set up, scraping against the tiles in our meeting room. Doc Marshall has already pulled Daniel aside for a talk. He talks to Daniel like he’s a kid, but the visual contradiction of this is jarring. Daniel’s large, gets his clothes fitted for him at a specialty store, but he can still get around by himself as far as I can tell. Doc touches his elbow, like he always does when he’s trying to comfort one of us,\n“Daniel, I know you know what you have to do. I can already see your light flickering…I don’t want to have to make any calls tonight.”\nDaniels whole body just sinks into himself, completely defeated.\nDoc: “Don’t make me tell you, I know you can do it.”\nDoc steps back for the moment of truth…\nAnd Daniel throws out his Mcdonald’s combo meal, his spotlight extinguishes. \nDoc’s smile looks downright wicked next to Daniel’s misery, “Daniel, I’m so very proud of you. You did the right thing!”\nI take an empty seat, it was probably Daniels before Doc got to him. Cynthia’s next to me and I can already see her going at it with Marcus. \n“Cynthia, footsie isn’t footsie when there’s no table to hide it.”\nShe glares at me from under her frumpy bangs and flips me the bird.\n“Sorry are you here cuz you’re a nympho or are you here for wrath? Pick your sin.”\nHer light goes out.\nDaniel pulls up a new chair for himself, and Doc starts the meeting.\n“Alright, looks like everyone’s here for Sinner Support. Let’s go around and say our weekly highs and lows, shall we?”\nThe first one to go is Yoshi. Says she can’t think of any lows for herself. Her highs include full healing of her nose job, seeing her ex’s face as she drove by his house in her new boyfriends Bugatti, and beating her twelve year old nephew at arm wrestling. She laughs at the last accomplishment and flexes her well-manicured arms.\n\nSpotlight.\nA Beacon Task Force officer barrels his way through the (unlocked) front door holding his gun out at Springfield’s latest threat: Yoshi’s unwavering pride.\n“You’re under arrest, Sinner!”\nI look at Doc, his face looks as deflated as the sigh he just exhaled.\n\n“I’m gonna fucking murder someone..” I mutter.\n", "It appeared,\n\nsuddenly,\n\na stigma from the sky\n\nto label me an outcast.\n\nAnd should this blinding light\n\nbe so very cruel?\n\nI've not let myself be washed\n\nin the rivers of sanguine,\n\nyet still it mocks me.\n\nAm I a pawn to some merciless god?\n\nWhy must I be deaf to the screams of my victims,\n\ntorn away from that which gave me such comfort?\n\nAs each day goes by,\n\nthe light gets brighter.\n\nMy head throbs\n\nwith lust for shadows.\n\nI can no longer bathe\n\nwith darkness and blood.\n\nThey stare at me through beady eyes,\n\nsteering children from my troubled gait.\n\nYes, yes, turn away.\n\nI am a monster on display.\n\nAs nights go by,\n\nI cannot take it.\n\nA stranger to stealth,\n\nwhere am I to hide?\n\nThis curse, this horrid blight,\n\nfound me with haste. \n\nAnd, as I sink my blade into sleeping flesh,\n\nit is gone just as swiftly.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nSorry if it seems choppy. There used to be stanzas, but I suck at formatting.\n" ]	2
	[WP] To counter Donald Trump, the Democratic party nominates Kanye West as their presidential nominee. This is their first debate.	[ "Kanye West threw a silver chain into the audience of three hundred, then stood slumped over his podium. 'Hey, bruv,' he said. 'If I were President then I would create a new, fairer economic system, in which children from poorer backgrounds are given an equal access to education as those belonging to the super-rich portions of our society.' Donald whispered a sarcastic laugh, but wasn't blind; he could see the audience cheering, chanting Kanye's name, eating it up. Candidate West continued, 'And I would base this society on a massive redistribution of wealth, funded by heavy taxation of the super rich, powered by decent American values, decent, honest, unbiased media sources. Ladies an gentleman of the USA, we can make this country great again!'\n\nThe audience was squealing Kanye's name by this point, burning and urinating over Donald Trump posters, lightening themselves on fire while screaming: 'Gold digger.'\n\nFor most people, this would mean utter defeat. But Donald Trump was not a person. The crowd, those still alive, waited for Candidate Trump's rebuttal. Surely nothing could beat Kanye, now.\n\nHe took a sip of water, then prepared to speak. Dozens of reports, statistics, opinion polls from America's greatest political analysts swirled around in his brain. The next words to come from his mouth would either win or lose him the election, but he knew exactly what to say. 'The fundamental problem,' Donald said with furious blood red eyes, 'is these bloody Mexicans everywhere. They're rapists, they're murderers, they're from the planet Venus, and they want to take all our jobs! Your job, my job, then they want to bite into our necks and suck out all our American goodness - that's how Mexican's are born, people.'\n\nThe crowd had cheered, even laughed at first. Now they were silent. He stepped down defeated, broken, and told his agent to call the limo It turned up, about twenty minutes later. Donald entered the vehicle. La Paloma was playing through the radio. 'This is my favorite song,' said the driver. 'It's a traditional Mexic... pure blooded American song.'\n\nTrump looked to his Time-X. 'It's seven-o-clock,' he said. 'Can you get me home by eight?'\n\n'Why eight?' he driver said.\n\n'I'm keeping some Mexican children in my basement,' Trump replied. 'You have to eat them in about three or four days, or they go mouldy. Well, that's what the use-by-date says on the packet.'\n\nThe driver clicked the car into fifth gear. 'Did the debate go alright?'\n\n'Turn the radio up,' Trump said. 'I wanna sing along.' At fifty miles per hour, the houses, orange, stepped in year-old weeds, seemed to blur into a long soup. Birds yelped under a dark blackberry sky.\n\n ¡Válgame Dios!\n Nadie me ha visto salir\n Si no fuí yo.\n Y una linda Guachinanga\n Allá voy yo.\n Que se vino tras de mí,\n que sí, señor.\n\nAs he licked his dry, thirsty lips, Donald knew things were going to be alright - except for the Mexican children in his basement.", "Kanye stood at the podium, dressed in his best suit. Trump had arrived before him, much earlier. They shake hands and being. \n\nThe crowd is silent, all of America is watching, and they know it.\n\nThe first question is asked. \"What is your vision of America?\" \n\nKanye opens his mouth to answer, but stops for a second to think about what he'll say. He continues and answers with...\"I just wanna make art.\" \n\nTrump nods at his statement, He begins his turn, and prepares to answer.\n\n\"Well, 1. Prosperity and 2. Why are we here? Kanye doesn't want to be here.\"\n\nThen the crowd went wild and everyone went home.", "\"Before we begin the debate I'd like to give each candidate a chance to introduce themselves and the platforms that you each stand on.\"\n\nKanye West looked livid! It was as if the moderator, Anderson Cooper, had just slapped him across the face with a fish.\n\n\"What do you mean what platform we stand on!\" Kanye bellowed through the mic. \"Are you calling me short? I'll have you know that I am 5'7\" and that is a perfectly normal height! The average height is 5\"6\" so that makes me tall. I will not be insulted by your ignorant attack on my height!\"\n\n\"Mr. West I was not insulting your height, I was merely asking you to tell the people what you stand for in this election.\"\n\n\"O ya. O ya, I knew that! You think I didn't know that! I am a genius, I knew what you meant. I was just saying that cuz there are a lot of people out there who are made fun of because they is short and I was, you know, just saying. Ya. I am a lyrical genius.\"\n\n\"Okay... Well thank you Mr. West. Now how about we go over to you Mr. Trump.\"\n\nStanding on the opposite side of the stage, Donald Trump stood confidently glaring out into the audience. He wore a devilish smirk that looked as if someone had twisted one side of his mouth so that the left side hung slightly higher than the right, and a small line parsed his lips barely showing his yellow-white teeth. \n\nMr. Trump... Would you like to tell the audience what your campaign is working towards?\n\nDonald Trump continued to stare blankly into the audience. Still holding that same stupid grin.\n\nAfter almost 30 seconds of silence the words finally made their way through Donalds ears. \"O yes, sorry Anderson I wasn't listening to you. You know people don't listen to you, I hope you know that. Literally everyone thinks that you and the liberal media are a farce. You're all just a bunch of uppety communists who no one takes serious.\" Donald clenched both hands into a fist and raised his arms into the air, belching \"Go back to Mexico, Mexicans!\".\n\nKanye West at this point had somehow made his way to the edge of the stage where he sat bobbing his head up and down while listening to beats on his new \"Yezzus\" brand headphones. \n\nAnderson Cooper looked at Kanye as if he were dealing with a child. \"Mr. West, we ask that our candidates please stay at their podiums.\" \n\nKanye in a fit of fury pounded his fists into the floor, spitting out profanity after profanity, before promptly standing up and stomping back towards the podium. \n\n\"I was in the middle of making the most musically revolutionary lines the world had ever heard and you just stopped me. You just set children in Africa back 300 years for not letting me finish my fire, I hope you happy Coops.\"\n\n\"I am terribly sorry for interrupting your \"musical creativity\" Mr. West, but you are in the middle of what is supposed to be a debate.\"\n\n\"Ya about those children in Africa\", Donald Trump looked like a kid with a lunch box full of pizza lunchables, fucking pumped! \"I don't think the children in Africa should ever be allowed to come to the U.S, neither should the Chinese, Japanese, French, Mexicans, and especially not the Canadians.\"\n\n\"Ya, ya, ya, your hotels is great and all Donald Duck, but um, you know the real problems is aliens.\" Kanye's right eyebrow seemed to float six inches above its opposite. \"Ya, um I am a genius and I watched the history channel because that's what us smart people do, and um, ya how do you explain Egyptians?\"\n\nAnderson sat dumbfounded as he stared up at the two leading candidates for president. Knowing the fact that one of these two men would, in the next six months, be the 45th President of the United States of America. This was enough to make a man go crazy and eat his tie. And sure enough, Kanye was back on the edge of the stage, sitting down, eating his tie.\n\nThe end. ", "Both in their best-dressed, Kanye's resting bitch face and Donald's waking hair, they stood ready at the podium. John Oliver sat at the desk, ready to mediate. \n\n\"I'm going to be honest with both of you, this is not where I expected this election season to go. And I'm a little ashamed.\" Kanye was first to take the floor, and a beat kicked in. \n\n\"I fantasized 'bout this back in Chicago, \nmercy mercy me that Murcielago, \nThat's me, the first year that I blow, \nHow you say broke in Spanish? Me no hablo.\" \n\nHe set his wireless performance mic back on the podium and returned to the center of the stage, wasting precious debate time as the clock wound down, along with the beat. \"Really, I've been thinking about the Presidency for a long time, ever since I apologized to Beck. See, if I was wrong about something like who's an artist, then I could be wrong about who should run this country. Now, the obvious answer has come to me. It's me. Thank me for my time.\" He took his place back at his podium, while the last thirty odd seconds ran off his clock. John Oliver sat stunned. \n\n\"Well, Mr. Trump then, I believe it's your t--\" \n\"Excuse me.\" The clock started. \"Mr. West brought up almost no useful information during his time, and I'd like to follow suit, although in a different fashion. I'd like to point out that he has admitted he can't speak Spanish, just like me. That means he's also a racist, just like me. The last line of his performance speaks not only to his racism but his unwillingness to fix the economy for minorities. He will tighten restrictions on the borders and outsource more of our businesses. I want to bring business back home.\" At this point over half of the audience in the bleachers had started crying in disappointment, though not loudly enough to be picked up by microphones. \n\n\"Could we get some questions from the audience?\" John turned and saw only a handful of people that had resisted the small time that either candidate had been speaking. One of them, a woman, stood up with an index card with a printed question, and looked to the podiums. John got her a microphone and sat back. \n\n\"Candidates, I'd like to know from each of you: What are your policies regarding immigrants that have come here illegally?\" Kanye slowly approached the woman, who was looking down and not paying attention to him. \"What kind of treatment will they get when the situation lands on your lap--\" The last few words faded as Kanye took her microphone, staring into the camera. \n\n\"I'm not gonna let you finish, I just want the world to know that Beyoncé is the most beautiful woman who ever spoke at a Presidential event. Thank you.\" He passed the microphone back to the mediator. \n\n\"Mr. West, you're really only supposed to answer the woman's question at this time, so I'm going to have to disqualify that answer, though it will remain on record.\" John looked to Trump, who was waiting to answer the question. \n\n\"You see, the problem with immigrants is that they come into our country, and they take jobs from hard-working lower class peoples, and drive down wages, and they do low quality work which makes companies seek even lower wages in China. Then they complain about no work while they don't realize that they've created this problem entirely for themselves. Before immigrants touched this country's soil it was rich in resources.\" Everyone who could still pay attention wondered if he was actually talking about the European immigrants. \"The American government does wrong by shipping jobs elsewhere and by allowing these scum to come across our borders.\" \n\n\"Mr. Trump, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard.\" John kept a smile throughout his delivery. \"At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.\" Confetti rained down from the room while audience members rushed and two put John on their shoulders, carrying him to the center while the red, white and blue rained over the small crowd. \"And that's the show for tonight, everyone!\"", "Kanye approached the podium with all of his normal bravado. He reached out and put both hands on the podium and looked out at the crowd. \n\n\"My life is dope and I do dope shit\" he said with a flat tone into the mic. \n\nThe crowd went wild as he turned to walk back to his tour bus.\n\n", "\"This is preposterous, how can this man even be a candidate?\" Smirked Trump to his head advisory council, towering over the podium wide-eyed like an sparrow.\n\nMr. West stood in quiet confidence to the right. He might not have a lot to say about fiscal policy; he could not appropriate tax breaks in a way to create to most market inefficiencies; he was a self-proclaimed college dropout. But he knew how to captivate an audience.\n\nThe moderator arrived and applause ensued. \"Good evening American people, and welcome to the Presidential debate.\"\n\nBeads of sweat poured down Kanye's forehead. He felt like running away. Trump had already began answering the first question about how he felt the biggest problem in America today was the threats to our financial security made by foreign cyber terrorists.\n\nThere was a long pause, it was Mr. West's turn to speak. His face was gleaming with what could have been blood, sweat, or tears. For the first time ever, Kanye was onstage in front of millions of eager people, without the slightest clue how to react.\n\nAnd that's when it happened--he raised his glass. \"Let's have a toast for the Douchebags, let's have a toast for the assholes, let's have a toast for scumbags--everyone of them that I know, let's have a toast for the jerkoffs that'll never take work off. American People, I've got a plan, runaway fast as you can.\"\n\nThe crowd errupted.", "Donal Trump woke up that morning, knowing he was in for a heck of a debate. First, he was scheduled to make some off the cuff comments about women, and then he had to buy a new toupee, and then he had a presidential debate with Kanye West. But Donald Trump, according to Donald Trump, knew how to get things done. \n\nAnd get things done he did, or at least the two things on his to-do list anyways. The time came for him to take on Kanye West in the presidential debate. He arrived early and ready to go. He sat down at his assigned seat, and waiting for mr. West. Kanye was late, but arrived nonetheless. Kanye sat down opposite mr. Trump, and the presidential debate of 2015 began. Mr. Trump has the first word. \"Well, if I were president, I would get all those rapists and murderers out of the U.S and send them back to Canada where they belong. I also...\" Kanye West interrupted at this point. \"imma let you finish, but Obama was the best president of all time. I am also Black, therefore, logically, I will be the best president of all time as well.\" He mic-dropped and left the debate, sure he would win by a landslide. He did. Mr.Trump never did get to finish.\n\n", "\"Donald Trump don't care about black ppl!\" Kanye started to shout\n\n\n\"Donald Trump don't care about black ppl yall!\" as he was jumping up and down. Kanye was dressed in the latest fashion. The latest fashion if you had a freaking time machine, and went into the future, and stole only the freshest looks (that's why he looks kind of goofy sometimes - we cannot yet comprehend his genius)\n\n\nDonald smirked \"Mr West has talent, there can be no denial\"\n\n\n\"And some of his beats, the way he uses samples... and you don't even know it.. That's the kind of talent America needs! Thats some real shit!\"\n\n\nKanye began to spea-\n\n\n\"Excuse me\" Donald said forcefully. He looked at the camera with a knowing glance. Classic Don. Send em to the kids table, Don.\n\n\n\"But Kanye West is NOT as good as eminem! This fact is indisputable. In fact, he's nowhere near that level!\"\n\n\nThe crowd went wild. \n\n\n\"Rap God!\"\n\n\n\"Rap God!\"\n\n\n\"Rap God!\"\n\n\n" ]	8
	[WP] The rest of the world loses contact entirely with an island country (Australia, Indonesia, Britain, Japan - any of these will do). Anyone that flies nearby disappears. You are a naval officer from another country sent to find out what has happened.	[ "\"So, what if this is another Bermuda Triangle thing? We sail in, we don't sail out? And our souls by Davey Jones forever be held?\" Queried Kai, mocking lyrically with a glint in his eye. Kai was my resident mystery buff and known among the crew as the man who is one step away from tinfoil hats and institutionalization. And although the notoriety among his staff amused him, no one calls him a conspiracy theorist to his face, because Lt. Commander Jake \"Kai\" Kanashi was a ranking officer and second only to the Captain of the vessel, me - Captain Morgan \"Ave\" Avery, no connection to the pirate. \n\nI glare at him across my desk, \"Bermuda Triangle?! You should know better than anyone else the number of vessels that disappear in the region is just average for an area its size, you know it was sensationalistic media that made the Triangle famous.\" He shrugs at me.\n\n\"Don't let the crew hear you talk about Davey Jones and don't you dare mention Fiddler's Green…I need to fill in the logs for tonight. Now, get out.\" \n\nMost people would frown at our casualness with each other, but Kai and I had been buddies since we had enlisted 12 years ago, at the grand old age of 18. And if anyone asked, I would answer frankly, that he was overdue for a promotion to Captain. The man could navigate his way around the world with a compass and the stars for guides and despite his flippancy, he had nerves of steel and having him by my side during severe weather was calming and reassuring, like a shot of ice through my own veins. Outside of my office, it was formal, military language but once the doors shut, well, Kai and I dropped all pretence and he spoke freely, whether I wanted to hear about Kennedy's 3rd shooter and that jet fuel can't melt steel beams or not.\n\nHe smirks at me. Rolls into a stand, heads for the door. He cocks me another grin over his shoulder as he exits and as the door closes, I hear him begin to whistle the refrains of \"Dead Man's Chest\". I throw my softball paperweight at him, but miss by a fraction of a second and the ball falls harmlessly to the floor. Damn it.\n\nWe were diverted from our usual patrol route on the Indian Ocean to investigate the mysterious disappearance of a cruise ship out of Europe, The Beacon had advertised and plotted a route that led it down the Atlantic and around the Cape of Good Hope and Agulhas and up through the Suez Canal, back to the Mediterranean. This initial offer of the 2 month long trip had sold out in days and for the first 6 weeks, the ship had docked at all its ports like clockwork. The waters in the region usually calm at this time of the year, with the exception of a few minor storms.\n\nIt's last port of call was on the island of Madagascar and then it vanished. It was meant to call at Port Victoria, Seychelles, but no one could contact the ship. It got stranger when no one could raise anyone on the island nation by radio or phone or the internet. As nations began to take interest in the matter, the powers that be began realizing that although the cruise ship was the first ship to disappear, planes had been disappearing in the region for years. A flight out of Hong Kong carrying 152 passengers had vanished after diverting over the island due to severe weather, the plane never made it to Johannesburg. Likewise, 6 flights out of Abu Dhabi and Europe to Mauritus and Johanesburg also never made it. And now, flights that had been exploratory rescue searches for the cruise ship out of Africa never made it back.\n\nWhich led to my entire frigate being called off patrol and sent to investigate. We'd been due south of Sri Lanka when our orders changed and had travelled about 8 days south-west at this point. We were due to arrive at the island by dawn. \n\nI pause in my writing, I tried to hide it from Kai but clearly he had seen it, I was nervous. I didn't like this. This change in routine, this sudden call to investigate disappearances. I didn't like it. And when you've been at sea for as long as I have, you learn to trust your gut. Worse, Kai was nervous too. He had spent the entire evening silent and stern in front of the crew, out of character for someone who believed in leading with humour and kindness. Kai, my right hand man, always with a steady hand and a keen mind had flubbed calculations earlier in the evening. He was worried, I was worried. And the entire frigate had a nervous energy buzzing around it.\n\nMy thoughts are interrupted \"Ah….Captain, you need to come see this. Stern, deck.\" I recognize Kai's voice, and pop up from my seat. He sounds nervous. Rushing my way upwards, I head towards the stern. There were at least 30 crew members gathered, including my XO. He points silently into the waters and there, barely visible under the lights from the ship were sharks. Milling, and trailing us. Another bad omen. I really didn't like this.\n\n\"Alright people, back to work. This is the Indian Ocean, this isn't the first shark you've seen and it won't be the last.\" I try to sound commanding, confident and calm. It's not working and there's a slight tremor. But Kai leads the troops back inside.\n\nI'm about to follow when this blinding light flashes. It's really close and nothing like a lightning strike. It feels like a million camera bulbs going off in my face all at once. And I feel a brief but searing heat. There is sudden silence as the night re-envelopes itself around me. An odd stillness. \n\n\"KAI, BRIDGE NOW.\" I yell at him, as I help a few of the remaining startled crew on the deck back inside. He bolts.\n\nI'm about to step over the watertight seal on the door and latch it when the ship turns, suddenly, violently port side. I feel my foot catch on the frame of the door and I tumble backwards. My head hits the deck. I struggle to my feet and rush urgently inside and upward to the bridge. My head is bleeding now, and I press a hand to it. Alarms are going off, sirens blaring. This is not good.\n\nI rush into a hive of activity, and confusion. Our radars are malfunctioning. Our sonars are malfunctioning. Our entire navigations system has shut down and even the compass needles are spinning wildly. Kai and I trade looks, as the entire bridge watch us, waiting for instructions. This is not good.", "TRIGGER WARNING\n\n\nIt's been six years since we've heard from Japan. It happened all at once. All broadcasting, all trade, anything coming out of Japan simply vanished. The world tried desperately to establish contact; pizza deliveries, satellite imaging, text messages, any attempt to reach out to the nation turned out to be futile. It has been three years since the last attempt to get back in touch with the great sushi people. Three years of looking to the skies, begging our gods for answers.\n\n~\n\nMy name is Joe. I was the president of a small anime fan club at Towson University when Japan went off the map. Its been six years of going through the same old mangas. Sure, there are korean mangas, korean animes. But those weird plotlines, the vertical comics. What has become of my safe haven.\n\nAnd so here I am, sails raised high, following the sun towards its nadir. I'd been going to sailing school for two years. My mother helped pay for the lessons, as long as it helped me get out of the basement. Little did she know of my grander schemes. Its been a month and half since I took out a loan in Mother's name and bought this boat, claiming that I wanted to start a tentacle fishery. The bank teller gave a slight look of surprise, but I knew that my fedora manifested only intelligence.\n\nI drop anchor, knowing that tomorrow Japan's horizon will be within view. I head down to my cabin, where pictures of my harem of waifus cover the walls. I snuggle with yumi-san, my favorite stuffed waifu of the moment. Shes so kawaii. Cradling her plush in one arm, and my fully erect 3\" penis in the other, I rest calmly, knowing that a land of real waifus will be mine for the taking in the morning.\n\n~\n\nI step lightly on the land. An eerie fog covers the ground. I have landed in Tokyo, and yet the city is surprisingly barren. Completely barren. As such, I have stripped myself completely naked, wearing only my fedora and my trusty katana. My fetid balls swing limply, covered in smegma from a month of being trapped on my lonesome. I scout the horizon. There is nothing, no one.\n\nI decide to check one of the apartment buildings. The gates to every building are open. I unsheath my katana, and prepare for battle. Walking up the stairs, there is a strange rumbling. It seems as if the whole building is groaning. I kick open a door, room 69.\n\nI am shocked by what I see. A giant fedora, spewing tentacles from its base, is anally penetrating an elderly couple.\n\n'Who are you?' a voice sounds within my head. These must be telepathic fedoras, I think to myself, some of the hardest to deal with.\n\n'And who do you think will be dealing with who' the voice begs.\n\n'Theres a reason they call me sloppy Joe', I say, grinning from ear to ear. I shove the hilt of my katana up my urethra, and fail my penis wildly, slicing the fedora in two.\n\n'NOOOOOO!!!' the voice screams in my head. I realize that in my wild thrusting, I have managed to disembowel the elderly couple as well. In any case, it is clear that Japan has been overwrought by a race of tentacle-raping fedora monsters. Just the case for someone of my katana-dicking skills.\n\nI pull my katana out of my penis, feeling as sloppy as ever. At last, I have found my true purpose.\n", "\"Johnson, I can't believe this. They've finally gone and done it. All these years talking about it and they've finally done it. Incredible.\" Stewart looked up from his desk and peered over his reading glasses at Johnson. \"Get me the president.\"\n\n----------------------------------\n\nThe USS Nimitz cruised slowly towards the Isles, following the well used North Atlantic shipping corridor. The European Union had refused to pop over and see what happened, and the French were still dealing with the disaster in the Chunnel before they could focus on anything else. \n\nNoone really understood what was going on, but everyone could agree that it was rather odd and nigh unexplainable. Overnight Britain had just disappeared. Northern Ireland had gone with it, leaving the Republic scarred and wallowing in the ocean.\n\n\"Johnson, coffee please. Black.\" Stewart said as he poured over his notes. His quarters on the Nimitz were small and claustrophobic, nothing like his airy corner office back in D.C. \n\n \"Johnson, come here and have a look at this. What do you see?\" he asked impatiently, motioning Johnson to come look at his notes. \n\n\"Just a second sir,\" Johnson said as he finished pouring the coffee into a mug that displayed #1 Dad - But only when I feel like it in white letters. He walked over to Stewart and placed the mug on the desk, then glanced at the haphazardly strewn papers blanketing it.\n\n\"Interesting,\" Johnson muttered, \"You must have been working on these non-stop since the disappearance. These are pretty advanced algorithms, sir, pushing the boundaries of the latest quantum theory.\"\n\n\"Indeed, Johnson. If you'll look at this,\" Stewart rifled through the papers, pulling one from the pile. \"I've figured it out.\"\n\nJohnson scanned the page's contents, his eyes widened as he got to the bottom. \"Dear god, sir.\"\n\n\"Yes, Johnson,\" Stewart said gravely, \"their heads are so far up their asses that they have literally vanished off the face of the planet.\"", "2nd July 1862, Torshavn, Faroe Islands\n\nThree weeks ago, we lost contact with our colonies in Iceland. Copenhagen sent airships, but none have returned. As commander of the closest naval station, the Rigsdagen has tasked me with making a voyage to the settlement and, if possible, re-establishing communication with the local authorities. I have begun assembling the necessary provisions, and expect to be underway within the week.\n\n**\n\n8th July 1862, Upon Leaving the Faroes\n\nWe set out from Torshavn this morning on the great steam ship Rasmussen, bound for Reykjavik. A stiff South-Easterly wind and calm seas promise us a swift passage. Should conditions remain favourable, I hope to reach our goal no more than three days hence.\n\n*\n\n9th July 1862, In the North Atlantic\n\nOur voyage thus far has been uneventful, although there is great foreboding among the crew. We approach the land of the midnight sun, and yet there is a darkness in the skies before us.\n\n*\n\n10th July 1862, South East of Iceland\n\nWe sail in darkness. Were it not for the faint remnant of an orb glowing overhead, I would swear that it was yet night. Thunder growls ahead, and there is a rotten scent upon the air. Our voyage continues, yet I fear for what we may find upon our arrival.\n\n*\n\n11th July 1862, Off Vik, Iceland\n\nThe settlement at Vik is gone. Great swathes of cliff and mountain have been sundered by forces that I cannot comprehend. Where once there was land, only a seething miasma remains. The darkness is stronger here – it is not long past midday, yet I can no longer see the sun. The sky weeps with a black rain, as if the darkness is not content to remain only above us. We dare not venture too close to the shore.\n\n*\n\n12th July 1862, Anchored off Reykjavik\n\nWe have arrived later than I had hoped. The town of Reykjavik remains mostly intact, although we have encountered no signs of life from the shore. Even the gulls are absent. The black rain continues, coating the Rasmussen* in a layer of filth. The men are preparing a landing craft to take us ashore. Lord protect us.\n\n**\n\n12th July 1862, Upon Returning to the Rasmussen\n\nThere is only death in Reykjavik. The black rain covers everything, thicker than winter snow. The streets are drowned in it, and our progress has little more than a crawl. The town reeks of rot and death.\n\nThe houses are littered with the dead, many of them still in their beds. Whatever scourge fell upon this place, the Lord God saw fit to grant them this small mercy. On closer inspection, those buildings which first appeared whole are in fact little more than ruins – every window is blown out, and the larger part of the town’s roofs have collapsed under the weight of filth that presses down upon them. There is evidence of burning in many places, however it would seem that the black rain has staunched even that.\n\n*\n\n16th July 1862, Upon Leaving Reykjavik*\n\nA blight affects the men. The darkness and foul air weighs heavy upon us, and many on the crew have begun to experience great irritation of the eyes and throat. More than this, there is a growing belief that what beset this place was not of our world, and I fear a mutiny should we remain too long. Our men have toiled hard, and I have already asked enough.\n\nI have prepared my report for the Rigsdagen. Our colony on Iceland is lost, and a great evil remains here. God give speed to our voyage home." ]	4
	[WP] NYC is eerily quiet, nearly deserted. Infant monsters roam the streets, demanding that the few humans left teach them human language and mathematics. Write a horror or SFF origin story for Sesame Street that we could never un-read--and never, ever show our kids.	[ "\"Ugh\". I couldn't help but grunt as my face smashed into the puddle. Why wasn't I paying closer attention! It's not like I haven't done this a thousand times already. There was something different about this kid though. He just won't stop.\nI jumped up from the puddle to my feet as soon as I heard the footsteps again. They were slower this time, but I wasn't taking that as an invitation to take a break. I wiped my face clean of the puddle water. \"Shit, this isn't water,\" I'd just landed in a mess of syrup. I could outrun the chubby little barrel no problem. But getting outside of his scent while covered in syrup... I needed a diversion. I needed to buy some time to get out of these clothes. \n\nI threw my body into the nearest doorway and swung my satchel around to my 12 o'clock, pawed earnestly at the flap to get it open. All I could make out in the dull, flickering street light was 5 insulin shots, a half eaten loaf of soda bread, my old tattered bandana and a Sugar Pop. \"Fucking Sugar Pop\". \n\nThere was no point prolonging the inevitable by feeling sorry for myself; that could come later if I was lucky enough.\n\nI snapped the central core to initiate the fizzing. I could hear the innards crackling and popping. I counted to three, flung it up in the air as high as I could, crossed the fingers on my right hand in hopes that it would work, crossed the fingers on my left hand in hopes that it wouldn't. Left lost.\n\nThere was a flash of bright purple that filled every street within four blocks. As soon as my vision began to come back, I could hear tens of glass soda bottles drop to the ground in every single direction as every kid within range was not heading straight for this place. I needed to move before this place was over-run.\nThose lazy footsteps from earlier were now sprinting in the direction of the Sugar Pop as the blinding light faded to revel the sugar cloud. I tied my bandana around my face and sprinted in whatever way I didn't hear footsteps approaching.\n\nI jumped over a gate then quickly hugged the wall as a group of kids dashed passed, towards the Sugar Pop. Hidden in this little alcove, I ripped and pulled at my clothes to get them off me. While working on my jeans I heard those menacingly slow footsteps coming towards me, this time accompanied by a whistle. The tune was unmistakeable. The tune that once gave children all over the world joy, from Twinkle Twinkle Little Star while infants to earning a gold star at school for reciting it flawlessly, the ABC tune now haunted the dreams of those few adults that survived the Sesame Slaughters. The kid who was walking right towards my position, now began to sing \"All I want's my ABC, please Mr. Man, wont you play with me\". As he said the word \"me\", his hatchet came crashing through the rotted fence. He squirmed his way through and stared down at my syrup soaked clothes, scattered on the ground. I could hear his fit of rage from the house two streets over.\n\nWith nothing to keep me warm other than my satchel, I wrapped one arm around my torso in a vain attempt to keep the remnant of heat in, and searched through the ransacked house for any screed of clothing. I found an old blouse and a pair of long shorts that were way too big for me. It would have to do though, I didn't have time to look for anything warmer. Mary had been bitten about 4 hours ago now. If I didn't get these shots to her within the next hour, that big mustard mutant fuck would be flying right into the hideout to drain her thoughts.\n\nI broke off some string from one of the blinds (quietly in case there were any stragglers not attracted by the Sugar Pop) tied it around my waist to try keep the shorts from slipping too much and sneaked out the door.\n\nI came up on the apartment block, I could even see our window. I had to keep my back to the wall however as there was a group of kids crossing at the top of the street. After the last kid vanished behind the street corner, I edged my way out slowly. All of a sudden, there was a searing pain in both my shoulders and it felt like a ton of bricks had landed on me. I couldn't move, all I could see was a flurry of blue fur attacking me all over.\n\n\"Cookie!\" came a forceful but calm order from somewhere in the distance. The attack stopped. The blue fur moved away from me and began to take on a shape. It looked like a bright blue chimpanzee, but covered in mange. It shuffled over towards a dark, slender figure who waited for it patiently. He held out his hand and offered the beast a handful of chocolate chip cookies. It sunk it's teeth into the cookies and they were all mere dust in a split second. Some blood remained on the hand also, but then it disappeared.\n\n\"Good Cookie, good.\" The man spoke with a very distinct accent. Definitely Eastern European. \"But we do not want to kill the Mr. Man. On the contrary, we wish to save him.\"\n\"Save me?\" I asked incredulously as I dragged my broken body to it's feet. \"Oh yes Mr. Man, I am your only salvation now... you can count on it.\" \"And how exactly are you going to save me\" I asked. \"You see Mr. Man, my associate is on the way to this location as he senses something is changing in the area. Some one has been bitten. And it is only a matter of time before he finds out. Now, you have been badly beaten, of that there is no doubt. But I am certain, no teeth have broken your skin today. Now, with one person in the area haven been bitten, and a 2nd person not been bitten, I am putting 2 and 2 together and guessing you know where they are.\" I kept my face still, strong and solid. But obviously not as well as I though. \"Ah yes, I am correct. I can hear the sound of your heart beat, growing exponentially. Don't worry though person, I am here to help.\" He began to walk around the snarling beast, stroking it's chin. \"I have always admired the network that you people maintain, even in these circumstances. How there is always someone around to help, no matter where you are. But this time Jack, you and Mary are on your own.\" I felt the blood rush out of me. How the Hell did he know our names. \"It is only a matter of time before my associate finds her, and he will find her. But you can save her Jack. Or rather, I can. Tell me where I can find the others nearby and I will allow you to see her. Tell me their locations and she may fight to survive one more day. How many option have you got?\" I tried to run, but the blue beast snarled at me before I had even finished thinking about it. The man stared at my eyes, but looking through them at the same time and began to count. \"One... Two... Thr...\" \"Alright!\" I yelled as loud as my hoarse voice would allow me. I'll tell you, just let me go to her.\" \"I prefer not to count my chicken before they hatch Mr. Man. Tell me what I want to know.\" I hung my head in shame, furious at what I was doing, and also furious about how long it was taking me to do it. \"Go to the bottom of the street. Into the first apartment block on the left. Go to room 235. You'll find them there.\"\n\nI panted as I made a move towards my own apartment block. \"Where are you going Mr. Man?\" He asked in a straight voice. \"You said you would let me see Mary.\" \"Look up Mr. Man, and you shall see her in the talons of my friend.\" \n\nI pounced at the bastard. Too quick for even his mangy dog to notice, but with one swift move of his arm, the dark man sent me back down to the ground. \"But you said she would survive another day\" I sputtered out through bloody coughs. \"Oh she will Mr. Man. We are not finished with her yet. She will be kept alive for many more days to come,\" a sinister smile formed slightly on his face, \"you can count on it\".", "Alone, six-year-old Logan scurried through the deserted alleys of New York City. His heart was fluttering in his throat, but he’d been lucky so far. He hadn’t seen the monsters yet.\n\nHe stopped to catch his breath on a corner just three blocks away from the abandoned convenience store, where half a flat of batteries remained in the basement. He only had to fetch enough to fill his pockets, and the radios his family and friends relied on would run for another six months. You’re almost there, Logan thought to himself, in the voice his mother used to reassure him. You can do it.\n\nThen he heard the noise. It came from the pile of garbage cans standing in the shadowy lane behind him: a rustling sound, and then an unmistakable grunt. Logan tensed. If it was a monster, it was too late already. It could smell him fifty feet away.\n\nLogan knew what he was supposed to do; he reached into his pocket and turned the radio transmitter on. His trembling finger reached the button just in time, and then a mountain of green fur with eyes like golf balls emerged from under the lid of one of the bins. \n\nIn an underground safehouse nearby, the radio crackled to life and transmitted the boy’s petrified gasp. The operator twiddled the frequency knob and tilted the antenna frantically, trying to get a better signal. \n\nFor Logan’s mother, the sound was like a knife to the heart. She huddled by the radio, alternately praying and sobbing. “Please, God, don’t take my baby from me. Not Logan. You have my David, love of my life, isn’t that enough?”\n\nThe radio operator hushed her with a hand on her shoulder while he sent his own transmission: “Code red! We’ve got an encounter.”\n\nIt was a difficult decision to send children out into the streets while the monsters roamed the city, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Adults had been the first choice, obviously, until the count of mangled bodies reached the hundreds. Witnesses—of which there were few—reported that the monsters killed on sight, and brutally. \n\nFor some reason, however, the children always came back alive. Xenologists believed that since the monsters were infants themselves, abandoned by their parents, they sensed a sort of connection with human children, and that was why they tried to speak with them.\n\n“Hello, human,” croaked the green mass.\n\n“Hello,” Logan whispered, pushing the word past the tightness in his throat. He tried to be brave. The children always came back alive. He just had to follow the rules. Even though he’d recited the rules every morning and every night, now that he needed them most, he struggled to remember them.\n\nThe monster extended its long neck over the rim of the garbage can and leered at him. “Tell me, human, where do you live?”\n\nAt that moment, thankfully, rule 1 came to him:\n\n1. Never tell them where you live.\n\nOf course, the remaining human population all lived in fallout shelters beneath the streets of New York. The yellow signs had been torn down, and there was reason to hope that the monsters had never understood what they were for. If they had, surely they would have stopped asking children where they lived. The rule had been put into place when one frightened little girl choked out the name of the street she’d grown up on, and the monsters latched onto it, asking over and over again how to get there.\n\n“My mommy says never to tell strangers where I live,” Logan stammered. \n\n“I’m not a stranger,” the monster protested, its maw curving in a rictus grin. “I’m your friend!”\n\nHis clattering attracted another monster out of the darkness, a slothlike beast with matted red fur. “Let’s be friends,” it chattered. “Let’s be friends!”\n\n“Y—yeah,” Logan agreed. “I have a gift for you. For my friends. I wanna give you a letter.”\n\n2. Give them a letter.\n\nThe monsters leaned forward and gabbled eagerly to each other. “What’s the letter? What’s the letter?”\n\n“The letter is L.” Logan picked the first letter of his name, and immediately felt like he had given a piece of himself away.\n\n“He gave them L,” yelled the radio operator, broadcasting on all channels. “L is down, folks. Everyone cross the letter L off your list.”\n\n“Logan,” his mother whimpered. “Baby, please come back to me. You’re so brave. Just run home, my sweetheart. Run!”\n\n3. Run.\n\nWhile the two monsters bobbed their heads in joy over the letter L, Logan’s instincts finally kicked in, and he pounded the pavement as fast as his little feet could carry him. The first monster erupted from the garbage bin and loped after him, with the second in hot pursuit. A third rounded a corner in front of him and blockaded his path: a towering mammoth of a bird with a sharp pointed bill. \n\n“Come and play,” they wailed. “Everything is A-OK.”\n\nThe monsters advanced from all sides, their unblinking eyes fixed on him and their gashlike mouths flapping. \n\n“Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street? Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?”\n", "Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?\n\nThese days, even asking that question will get you a laugh, if anyone even bothers to respond at all. It's the television show, the genius idea that you could take and show the world everything in the guise of popular entertainment, and suddenly it becomes fiction. It becomes a work of imagination. But I remember. I used to know how to get to Sesame Street. I used to go there all the time...\n\nIt was just off Broadway, between 62nd and 63rd. These days, the area is cordoned off with apartment buildings. You'd never even know there was a street there. But those buildings were hastily thrown together to act as a buffer, a quarantine that would cut off that section of the city from the rest of the world.\n\nIn 1969, Sesame Street was the home of a research laboratory. Top-secret stuff. They called it the Second Manhattan Project. The way the Pentagon described it, this lab would produce the end of the Vietnam War in much the same way that the first Manhattan Project ended World War II. Of course, it didn't happen that way.\n\nScientists were working on an advanced virus with stunning effects. When introduced to various life forms, it created intelligence on a level of near-human capacity. The military saw this as a way to get Vietnam to do our fighting for us - we air-drop some of this virus on the nation, and soon enough, every plant, animal, and fungus would be fighting for us. The problem was always the \"fighting for us\" part. When granted intelligence, the result always seemed to come in one of two forms - either we'd get intelligence on the level of a mentally-retarded child, or we'd get... a monster.\n\nI realize that even a term like \"monster\" needs a qualification when we're talking about something that people identify with characters like Elmo and Cookie Monster. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about something intelligent and vicious and cruel. I'm talking about something looking to subjugate all life, not just Charlie in the jungles of 'Nam, but every last human on the planet. And because we almost didn't realize just how intelligent these creatures were until it was too late, they came close to succeeding.\n\nThe virus was tested on various specimens. The laboratory had a veritable zoo of creatures, a terrarium of plants, and a healthy selection of fungi, as well. Our procedures were, we thought, very safe. We would bring the specimen into a sealed room and administer the virus through an aerial delivery system. The virus itself has a short lifespan and an exponentially degrading reproductive cycle once within a host, so it would die off within minutes, but that was enough time for the effects to kick in.\n\nOur first test subject was a canary. Our office made jokes about the old “canary in a coal mine” thing, but that was to mask the tension we were having over the fact that we really weren’t sure what to expect from the experiment. We had projected models and theories, but in the end, our best bet was to go ahead and try it out.\n\nWhen the viral cloud had dispersed, we all eagerly looked at the canary, and to our astonishment, it looked right back at us. Not a dumb animal, but an intelligent creature. Over the next few weeks, it was studied thoroughly, but the real surprise came a few weeks in, when it spoke. The supervising scientist, Elaine Harris, was taking a series of tests on auditory response, testing different sounds and seeing how the canary responded. I remember her telling me she felt a shiver run up her spine when she heard the creature say “Mama?”\n\nWe brought in other life forms for experiment. A tree frog brought similar results, and said his first word (“green”) even faster than the canary had. Plants initially didn’t seem to be reactive, nor did fungus, so those samples were placed off to the side for further study later as we continued to examine the effects on animals.\n\nThe virus had an additional effect in a small subset of the specimens. We actually discovered this first in the canary, which by week five had tripled in size. While it didn’t happen in all specimens, some showed extraordinary growth, and sometimes even odd mutations. We ultimately found that the virus had formed various mutations, and began to label the diverging strains by letter – Strain A, B, C, and so on.\n\nThen, there was the experiment with Kiki. Kiki was an orangutan, and we were curious to see how the virus would affect a creature that was already fairly intelligent. Ultimately, we would come to the conclusion that the creature’s intelligence before the experiment had no bearing on the result of the experiment, but this experiment would ultimately reveal something completely different and unexpected.\n\nAfter the viral cloud dispersed, Kiki didn’t seem to have changed too much at first. Our technician, Bill Hammond, went in to retrieve the creature as per usual, but the moment he did, Kiki reached through the cave and grabbed him, pulling him closer to the cage. Before anyone else could respond, Kiki had taken the poor man and slammed him into the bars of the cage, knocking him out. By the time an armed man was able to get into the test area to put down the creature, it had repeatedly slammed his face into the bars and flooring of the cage, and his face… all that was left was a bloody mess of ripped flesh and cracked, protruding bone.\n\nI knew Bill Hammond. He was a good man, never so much as hurt a fly. He deserved better. And I will never forget the look in Kiki’s eyes right before he was put down. It wasn’t a look of rage or fear. For the briefest of moments, when our eyes met, I saw the calculating look of a killer.\n\nAfter the creature was put down, Bill had a closed-casket funeral, and we had our security procedures reinforced. There would now be no interaction with the creatures until it was confirmed that they were nonviolent. The lab was somber in the days after Bill’s death, but there was some happiness in the office as well. The canary, which had now grown to be four feet tall and seemed to still be growing, had been developing in intelligence, and by all accounts of staff was a delight to speak with. In the wake of what happened with Kiki and Bill, I intentionally avoided interactions with the creatures, but the staff all agreed that their favorite time of the week was when it would get to be their shift with “Big Bird”, their nickname for the canary.\n\nThe frog had been coming along nicely, too. It too had remained friendly, and the staff apparently started calling it Kermit, apparently named after Elaine’s childhood friend. It had even taking to singing on occasion after hearing one of our staff singing while working. Some of the staff were suggesting that the virus might make for a lucrative new market in house pets if we could stabilize it so we never had another incident like Kiki. Who wouldn’t want a Big Bird or Kermit of their very own, after all?\n\nHowever, the military coordinator responsible for our funding, General Frank Bragg, didn’t seem to appreciate how amazing our progress with those two was, and asked us to further study and pursue the virus’s potential use as a weapon. He seemed to think that if we managed to create a creature somewhere between the viciousness of Kiki and the intelligence of Big Bird and Kermit, that we’d get a fighter that could be made to be devoted to America and its cause in combat. I tried arguing with the man that it doesn’t work that way, but he wouldn’t listen. And since he was the man signing all of our checks, we did as we were told.\n\nShortly after this, we came to another discovery, and quite an extraordinary one. The plants and fungus we previously thought were non-reactive to the virus had mutated. After Big Bird’s signs of growth, we made it a point to test the virus on various plants, on the off-chance that they might grow as well. If they had, we might have very well solved the world hunger problem! However, that’s not how things worked out. Instead, plants ended up growing eyes and mouths… if you think it was a shock to hear Big Bird speak, imagine how floored we were when the tomato plant started peeping and the watermelon spoke in a deep bass!\n\nThe fungus, on the other hand, had mutated into bizarre, human-like forms covered in colorful “fur”. It was terrifying to see a mold sample get out of its sample container and walk around, and we were all increasingly feeling like mad scientists creating new and frightening Frankenstein’s monsters every day.\n\nAll the while, we continued experimenting on creatures. Our procedure now had us bringing a test dummy within range of the creature to see if it would attack. Creatures that attacked were placed in secure holding to be studied, and those that didn’t gradually became introduced to the other socialized creatures. But as much as we tried altering the virus, we were never able to get that “halfway in between” that our military patrons were demanding.\n\n(Cont...)", "A little kid came up to me and tugged on the hem of my shirt. I ignored her. Sick, confused, and half-intoxicated by the sugary air, I expected to die any minute. \n\nThe little girl patted my shoulder. “Mister,” she said in a soft, insistent voice. “Mister, are you all right?” \n\nI shook my head, not lifting it from the cradle of my arms. The bright, clear, cloudless sky was filled with a sun that never seemed to go away. Like a hammer, it would smash me flat, it would leave me to scorch on the pavement. Or melt. Melting seemed like a good idea. The way I was sweating, I felt well on my way toward that fate. \n\n“Mister, I’m lost. Could you take me home?” I groaned softly. Why hadn’t the sickness taken me? Why did I have to remain among the Lingering? But this little girl, she sounded sane, she sounded healthy. Normal. That meant she was very probably one of Them. A girl born to this world. She’d known no other. Hideously deformed, but unaware of any differences between the old type of people and her kind. I encountered other Lingering from time to time, and they spoke of the bizarre innocence of these monsters. \n\nShe sounded just like a kid. Like my little sister. Like the voice of a friend from my childhood. I knew she meant me no harm. And there was still enough humanity in me to pity, to want to help a lost child. \n\nMustering my courage, I pulled my head out of my arms. I squinted at her. She looked mostly human, though her boneless legs seemed incapable of supporting her weight. Dressed like an ordinary little girl. Fuzzy pink—fuchsia pink, not apricot—skin covered her face and arms. Her hair was yellow—not blonde, yellow—and seemed made out of cords or yarn. Big, too-shiny eyes dominated the top of her face, and a gigantic mouth took up the lower half. Pac-mouths, that’s what the others called this mutation, one of the more human of the newcomers. \n\nA stupid name for the poor lost mutant moppets. \n\n“Where do you live?” I asked shakily. \n\n“On a street with houses and trash cans and not many cars. It’s got a big green sign words on it. Do you know words?” I nodded. “The two words both start with the same symbol. It looks like this,” and she made big sweeping gestures with one hand. I had no idea what she was trying to share. \n\nPerhaps it was the chemicals, the ones that made the air sweet, but after she repeated the gesture a few times, the letter “S” appeared in the air in front of her. Hallucinations. Grand. The number faded slowly. “That’s the letter ‘S’” I told her. She bounced up and down, excited, her giant mouth open wide as she wiggled in delight. \n\n“Oh! Do you know more letters Mister? Do you know the numbers too? And big words?” \n\nI tilted my head, perplexed. “Yes, I do. \n\n“When—when you feel better, maybe could you teach me?” \n\nI squinted up and down the street. There were no signs of other Lingering, no signs of other mutants. I shrugged. “Why not?” I held out my hand. \n\n“You sure you’re all right, mister?” \n\nI nodded. “Everything’s A-OK.” She bounced over and put her fuzzy hand in mine. “Let’s find your home. Do you know the next letter on the sign?” \n\n> This post was brought to you by the Letter S and the Number 2. \n" ]	4
	[WP] "Come with me," he said, outstretching a hand. "I will make you a king."	[ "Marcus stared up at the man in black, shivering.\n\nThe rain had picked up and thoroughly soaked through his poor excuse of a cowl. His rain-laden clothes stuck to his frame, chilling him to the bone. He fought the urge to chatter as he worked his weathered jaw.\n\n“W-who are you?”\n\nThe man in black smiled, his teeth as sharp as daggers.\n\n“My friends call me Finn. I guess you could say I’m a shark, of sorts.”\n\nMarcus frowned. He shivered again, but that time not from the cold.\n\n“What do you want from me?” he asked, backing further away. He winced when his spine hit the wall behind him. He masked his whimper of pain as a sigh.\n\n“I’ve been watching you Marcus. You are a special boy, correct?”\n\n“I dunno…”\n\n“Of course you are!” Finn clapped his hands. Marcus jumped in response. “You’re the one I’ve been looking for all this time. It is fantastic to see you, even under these more unfortunate circumstances.”\n\n“I have no idea who you are.”\n\nFinn put a hand to his chin, humming. The low tone blended with the staccato rain and Marcus’ beating heart. When the man had thought enough, he continued.\n\n“Yes, I suppose you wouldn’t. However, we met long, long ago in your premonitions. Your mind just hasn’t found the connection yet.”\n\nMarcus’ eyes widened. It all came to him – the rain, the blood-hooded man, the very words that had spewed from his mouth. Meeting Finn was no different than those other surreal dreams. The only difference was he knew he wasn’t in a dream that time.\n\n“It is coming back to me now,” Marcus said, rubbing his temples. A minor headache began to bloom in the deepest recesses of his brain. “But why? I don’t understand why I would have seen these things before”\n\n“It's a gift. You’ve been blessed by the Creator,” Finn cooed. “As have I and my allies. However, many do see it that way. They call us cursed, the scourge of the earth. I’m hoping to change that one day.”\n\n“With me?”\n\nFinn shook his head.\n\n“With all of us. However, you will play a large part. I’m hoping you are trusting enough to come with me. Especially since you’d otherwise freeze to death out here in a matter of days. There’s no orphanage to turn to after the last mistake, now is there?”\n\nMarcus opened his mouth to answer but another pang had him clutching his head harder. He exhaled through his teeth, a sharp hiss filling the night air. Only when he could concentrate through the blinding pain did he answer.\n\n“Okay, I’ll do it,” he started. “What is my role?”\n\n“Come with me,” Finn said, outstretching his hand, “and I’ll make you a king.”", "I couldn't believe what this strange man was saying. \nI had just gotten off work and could not for the life of me figure out how to get home. The bus was late as hell, the rain was pouring so loudly that I had trouble hearing just about anything, yet this hooded man had a voice which rang clear in my ears. \n\"Come with me, I will make you a king\" he said once again, this time with more determination in his voice. At first i thought him to be a homeless man, his clothes were kind of old, yet he did not strike me as a lunatic, something about the sound of his voice and the absurdity of the statement made me intrigued. At this point, I figured that it was mostly my own boredom taking over, refusing me from ignoring this obvious idiot, I kept telling myself to just ignore him and perhaps he would walk away. \n\"Come with me, I will make you a king\" \nThe rain obstructed my hearing, yet this time it was more clear than ever. The man started moving, he started walking across the street, I watched in ave as all the cars stopped, all the cars had made a line for him to cross safely. That's when it happened. \nMy legs started moving, as driven by themselves, I dont remember walking, running or even feeling them, they just moved. I followed the strange man across the street, staying exactly a meter behind him, not more, not less. \nHe entered what seemed like an abandoned building complex, looked completely torn, almost impossible to recognize should I have to call the police. \nFear struck me, what did this man want from me? What did he mean by those words? WHY AM I FOLLOWING HIM? I could not answer any of those questions, I kept telling myself that I was interested, I kept trying to refuse the fact that my legs were moving on their own, or maybe they werent? Maybe I did want to become a King, maybe that's what I was made to be? Surely this strange man would let me know soon enough. \nHe stopped in front of a wooden door, there was a symbol of a crown ingraved in it, the door seemed pretty new compared to the rest of the building which looked like it was ready to crumble any second. \n\"Come with me, I will make you a king\" he said, one last time, before he opened the door and a darkness so solid exploded from within it. In less than a second my vision went dark, my head felt soft, my arms and chest had lost all feeling, the only thing I could feel now, were my legs. \nI started walking, slowly but steadily i plunged myself into darkness, every step i took made me feel like an inch of my body was being ripped away, yet I could not just stand still, what was the point in that? I had to become king now, the man assured me, I would become a king, if I did not become a king, what was I then to be? A blind man? A mad man? No, A king, A truely great King for all to see and obey, none could question me anymore, my boss would kneel before me, this time he could scrub the damned toilets. My ex-girlfriend the bitch would apologize for all the times she made me cry, for all the times she made me feel pointless and without purpose. \nThey would all know soon enough, that I was the king, the one true king of this hellhole of a country, nobody could question it... right? The man had said so himself, what was there to question? \nThe ground started shaking, at first it felt like a mild disturbance, then a small earthquake, then a light appeard. It was the crown symbol yet again, this time on a door completely covered in light. I started running, faster and faster, I wanted it now, I was king and nobody could take it from me, I would command, I would rule, I would take, I would be. I pushed the door, I pushed and pushed, my hands felt like they were burning, yet I pushed. Finally, I heard someone grab the handle from outside. The door opened slowly and there he was, the strange man who had said those words, the words that put me in this place, the words which would change my life, I could feel it, I could feel my life changing in front of my eyes, I stared at him, his lips parted, he would say it again, he would say it one more time and acknowledge me as the true king I am. \n\"Any man who must say \"I am the King\" is no true king\" he said, and closed the door in front of me. ", "######[](#dropcap)\n\n\"Yes, a lord of death and decay, a ruler of ruins and graves. No thanks. I'll stay with my keep.\"\n\nKommander Alexsandr Surov slapped the butt of his DP-23 Machine Rifle in emphasis, cocking back the bolt to chamber another round. The Cryxian warcaster hissed and spat venom from its iron fangs. \n\n\"You are a fool then, Khadoran. My army numbers in the tens of thousands. I can blacken the very sky you fight under. To refuse is to write your death note.\"\n\n\"A soldier of the Motherland is always ready to die in service to his nation and his Empress. You cannot frighten one who is prepared so. All the better, we will fight in the shade.\"\n\nLich Lord Scytherous, the grisly executioner of Turok the Dragonfather coiled his serpentine body as if to strike, the barbed stinger dripping corrosive acid from its pitted metal. A crude amalgamation of machine and man there was not a single part of him that was untouched, sacrificed in his drive for undead perfection. His chest was fused to a suit of armor, various pipes and tubes carrying numerous concoctions that glowed a sickly green or red. Claw like hands gripped the ancient cursed blade Eclipse as he stared at the Khadoran-born warcaster with eyes of burning balefire. \n\n\"You shall make a powerful thrall then, and I shall feast on your soul as its screams in agony.\"\n\n\"Do your worst, corpse-taker, and my soldiers and I shall do our best. Now go, I'm sure you have an army to gather.\"\n\nThe Lich Lord opened its snake-like mandibles wide, revealing the banks of black and corroded fangs.\n\n\"Such a sight will be the last you ever see.\"\n\n\"Words are worth their weight in gold- nothing. \n\n--\n\nKommander Surov walked back from the parley, a grim smile on his lips. His various Kovniks and Kapitans waited for him, ready follow any order he might have. \n\n\"Well... he won't surrender.\"\n\nThe assembled Khadoran officers laughed at that. Kovnik Oleg Gorbovich, leader of Surov's Iron Fang Pikemen spoke up.\n\n\"What will you have us do, sir?\"\n\nKommander Surov stare off at the cliffs behind them, the chalky soil loose and dry. A small gap in the otherwise unscalable wall held the main road through this part of Llael. The village they stood in was on the wrong side of the gap, its inhabitants long fled from the undead horde. Winter Guard and Assault Kommandos dug foxholes and other entrenchments in the vegetable gardens and dusty lanes, engineers strung great lengths of barbed wire between buildings, nailing boards across lower windows and sandbagging emplacements for field guns. Surov drew his naval dirk and traced a series of lines in the dirt.\n\n\"We will first fight them from the village, targeting their heaviest helljacks and bonejacks with the mortars and field guns. We will try to destroy as many mechanithralls and other creatures as possible. Once the position becomes untenable we will fall back to the gap, the winter guard scaling the cliffs from behind to fire down on the foe. The Iron Fangs, Man-o-Wars and Assault Kommandos will form a shield wall across the gap where their superior numbers will be less effective. This organized retreat will require discipline and order. Any man who falls back before the command is given will answer to me. Once we reach the gap there is one order above all: Not one step back. We fight to the last bullet, last blade and to the last man. Understood?\"\n\n\"Yes, Kommander!\"\n\n\"Good. I expect the attack to begin within the hour. May Menoth or Morrow watch over you.\"\n\n\n\n\n ", "The fields were all but ash, being nurtured with the fallen blood of those I had once called my friends, my comrades, my brothers. Now I too shall be one of the Fallen. However, at what cost? I had sworn fealty to my liege. I've forsaken my family, abandoned by birthright. For the march of campaigns. For the sake of honor.\n\nWhere is the honor in spilling the blood of other men? They have done me no wrong, but I have taken everything from them. There is no honor in being the pawns of men who see you beneath them. \n\n\"That, you are right about, my dear Sir.\" I shifted my head to face this voice. Before me was a man with skin pale as bone and translucent hair, contrasted by eyes as black as coal. His regal appearance is accentuated by the fur cape that draped down over his mail covered gambeson, only to stop at his metal greaves. \"Many men, such as yourselves, have been wronged by those who see sport in wasting lives for their betterment. But you see the truth, bloodshed should never be taken lightly, it is this constant strife that will bring the race of men to its knees.\n\n\"Come with me,\" he said outstretching a hand,\"and I shall make you a king, so that you may cleanse this world of such folly.\"\n\nA moment passed while his words echoed in my head, then I lifted my crimson hand and placed it into his.\nA crooked grin appeared on his face as he brought his free hand and placed it over my eyes. \"Excellent. We shall meet again when the time is right, your Majesty.\"\n\nHe grasped my temples and an aching pain passed through my skull before the world faded away.", "They promised me gold. They promised me silver. They promised me beautiful women, respect, and if it came to it, a Hero's burial. They gave me nothing.\n\nI gave all I had to save my country against the western threat. I left my wife and son behind, did not turn back when I heard the village was under attack, did not save them when the High Council needed defending. I lost an arm, and still swung my sword with the hand I had left. I lost men, loyal soldiers who fought for the cause, slaughtered like the inexperienced boys most of them were. I was outnumbered and under supplied, but I won, I drove the western dogs back to where they came from.\n\nI gave up my soul for that. I traded it do a shadowy man, a man in cloaks with no face. He asked for what was left of me at the end of my life, and gave me in return all the secrets of the enemy camps, their weaknesses and the strength to carry on.\n\nI returned to the council haggard but victorious, expecting to be cared for in return for all my sacrifices. They had nothing left, they said, nothing left in their coffers after the war, no title deserving of my contribution, and beautiful women can't be summoned out of nothing. They gave me a medal and told me to go home a hero. What home? My home is lost! My family is dead.\n\nRage boiled in the pit of my empty belly for many weeks. Rage when they paraded themselves through the streets in celebration of their victory. Rage when they feasted in their castle while those of us left alive starved in the streets, me especially, crippled and useless. I could have torn them apart, had I gotten the chance. This is not what I or my people deserved. This fate was worse than if the westerners had conquered.\n\nThen he came. The man in cloaks. He had power. He saw my hunger, for blood as well as food. He saw my need and unlike the others, he did not abandon me. He said he would fulfill his promise to save my people, and I would have my gold, my women, and the respect I had earned. He said I would have the greatest hero's burial that the land could produce, and there was where he would meet me one last time. \n\nI cast a suspicious gaze over him, wary of more tricks. I knew who he was, I was no fool. \"How?\" Is all I asked.\n\nI sensed a smile that I could not see, as he extended his hand to me. \"Come with me, and I will make you King.\"", "It was the Burj Khalifa that started it all. A monolithic dart pointing to the heavens, beckoning and challenging something to best it. An arrogant and regal structure, awe-inspiring. James had only seen it on the TV whilst drawing some abstract shapes in the back of his notebook, and he paid attention like never before. Transfixed, inspired, James began to draw this building over and over again, and at that moment, unbeknownst to him, a real burning passion for architecture had ignited. \n\nHis brother Brad had always been the more studious of the pair. At age 23, with a degree in International Management & Marketing, he had already began pacing up the corporate ladder, feet firmly planted on each step. Always cautious and calculated, the anthithesis of everything James was. Their parents hadn't been creative types, so James was an anomaly of the Ableton household. An inspired and creative young man, James aged 20 had just been accepted into a prestigious Architecture course at the University of Pennsylvania. \n\n\"Take my hand, James. Come with me. I will make you a king.\"\n\nJames had never really had an issue with authority, he was always respectful and polite. This had been unwavering until he met his lecturer for the first semester. A callous, cold old man named Professor Leichton. Tthere was only a suggestion of hair left on his head and the rest had migrated down his face into an unsightly, messy white wispy beard. He stood at just over 5 foot tall, hunched and solid. His face was weathered and scarred, his eyes sunk like ships in a dark ocean. \n\n\"For next week, read chapters one to three. If you -cough-.. Don't, don't bother coming in next week. Commit or don't.\" He commanded, his voice firm and wise. The man was full of wisdom, but the wisdom had made him bitter. He dismissed the class, and each time his eyes followed James like a Hawk calculating the risk before going in for the kill. This had, obviously, made James feel very uncomfortable but his desire to do well conflicted his primal instinct to challenge Leighton. He just buried it, right next to the resentment for Brad, for making him seem stupid for not going into business. Architecture was an art to James, and Brad was the kind of man to walk past the Mona Lisa to read the stock market.\n\n\"Push the button James, commit or don't.\"\n\nJames was in his dorm one afternoon playing on his computer, quietly minding his own business. He had always been a quiet boy, never one for the spotlight, running from the centre of attention as if it was a fire. He heard a knock at his door and hesitated answering it. When he was alone, he liked it that way. Company was just an interaction better saved until tomorrow. He answered it after a moment, arguing he hadn't spoken to many people today and actually might value some conversation, and the guest was unexpected.\n\n\"James. I believe it is time, come with me.\" Leighton calmly requested, his eyes focused directly ahead, as if staring through James into a cold and lonely ether. \n\"Oh, erm, hello professor. I'm a little busy now, what is this about? Is it an--\" James replied before being cut off by Leightons eyes shifting to James' like a bullet, piercing whatever thin layer of defence he had up.\n\"James. Come with me. The council wish to see you, and this cannot be delayed.\"\nWith a layer of sweat excreting from every crevice of his body, James froze. What the fuck is going on, he thought, how does he even know where I live?\n\nAnd without a moment more passing, James was following the professor like a loyal pet. He had no idea what this was about or why he felt such an intense fear, but deep inside there was a spark of excitement waiting to explode. \n\n--\n\n\"James. We are the council of well-being, human instinct and humanity defended. You may call us 'The WEB.' Your brother, Bradley Ableton. Are you aware of his companies business practices?\"\n\n\"No Ma'am, I'm not. I'm sorry to ask, but is this about Universi--\"\n\n\"James, there is little time. You know your brother, he believes you are well with him. You must convince him to move move his company branch to another office. There are many things UbenIc Corp. do that are incredibly in humane, but we believe they are manufacturing chemical weapons for sale to terrorist cells along the eastern coast. You must convince him to move to a building of our design, so we may suggest through design where they can hide their weaponry, so our team can infiltrate and remove the package and help prevent a national crisis.\"\n\n\"..... What?\"\n\n\"James, you absolutely must understand this is pivotal for the survival of almost 3 million people. Can you do this?\"\n\n\"I don't understand, I'm still trying to understand why I'm here.\"\n\n\"You're our connection. Your brother is the overseer of the project. You have an architectural background. Convince him his building isn't safe, and he has to move. We will take care of the rest.\"\n\nThe cogs that had been gathering dust in James' mind began to twist and scrape. His mind was exploding, this was too much to take in.\n\n\"My brother isn't bad. I know it. How do you even know any of this is true?\"\n\n\"Photographs, surveillance, mainframe hacking, phone taps, you name it James. Our team has been following him for a year, and we had no plan, but now you came along. Don't let us down.\"\n\nJames stood silently and his hands began to shake. He looked at the floor, and around him and saw only the silhouettes of 5 figures he had been speaking to, barely lit by a wall of Televisions behind him with videos of men and women around the world, most following someone closely, others hiding in plain clothes, others closing in on their victims. James had struggled to think for a moment, but a few words made their way out which echoed his selfish sentiment perfectly.\n\n\"Are you the good guys? What's in this for me?\"\n\nThe woman in the centre who had been speaking let out a small laugh that quickly subsided. The smile on her face was barely illuminated, framing only her cheeks and the side of her face, an almost perfect sight of evil.\n\n\"There is no good or bad. All we are doing is trying to prevent these people from dying. If you can't see that as good, you must not be our man.\"\n\nThe man at the end, who's face was entirely shrouded in mystery, framed only by a twinge of light showing his white shirt under a pressed suit, began to breathe deeply. He quietly said a few words that chilled James to the core.\n\n\"My boy, there is no good or evil. Only what you feel is right. Now take my hand, and we will show you what you will receive for this task. We will make you a king. All you need to do is commit. Or do not.\"", "I turned away from my uncle's schemes and plans. I looked up at the castle's glow far in the distance. Its turrets that reached for the clouds, the blinking lights of airships that floated lazily along like bees milling about a hive. Like anyone with nothing, they sang to me. But there was a louder chorus, one that drowned out the siren's song that beckoned from there atop the hill. \n\n\"I don't want to be a king, uncle. I want to be a god.\"" ]	7
	[WP] AutoModerator is actually just one extremely overworked reddit employee.	[ "“I need more money,” said Shirley. She wrung her hands and bounced from foot to foot in Harold Arthur’s office. \n\n“Why?” said Arthur. He leaned back in his chair.\n\nSweat began to bead on Shirley’s forehead. “I’ve been working sixteen hours a day, seven days a week.” Her voice faltered and broke. “I keep reddit running smoothly.”\n\nArthur laughed and played with the edge of his desk. He picked at a splinter in the wood. “Do you now?”\n\n“I do,” said Shirley. She nodded. “I do.”\n\n“How much do I pay you?”\n\nShirley bit her lower lip and whispered, “Forty thousand a year.”\n\nThe splinter came away from the edge of the desk. Arthur held it up to the light and looked at it. “You think that isn’t enough money?”\n\n“No. I haven’t had a day off in three years.” \n\nArthur flicked the splinter at Shirley and leaned forward in his chair. He looked at the objects on his desk: an empty picture frame, a computer, a dead houseplant. “Are you rejecting my generosity?”\n\nShirley’s eyes darted around the room. She tried to look anywhere but Arthur. “No. I appreciate the employment. I appreciate being AutoModerator.” She swallowed and licked her lips. “I just wish that I could make a little more money.”\n\nThe office chair squeaked as Arthur shifted his weight. “You do remember that it was my father that hired you.”\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“And I decided to keep you on when he retired.”\n\n“Yes. I really appreciate it but –“ \n\nArthur sliced his hand through the air to silence Shirley. He stared at her, narrowing his eyes as he did so. “And I decided to keep you at your current pay grade.”\n\nShirley shrunk back from the piercing gaze of Arthur. She didn’t like the look of anger flaring up on his face. “I’m sorry. I retract my request.” \n\n“No,” yelled Arthur. His voice echoed around the room off the empty walls. “You’re fired. You fucked up, Shirley.”\n\nShe fell to her knees, clasping her hands together. “Please, Mr. Arthur. No. I need this job. Please.” Tears streamed down her face.\n\nArthur sneered. “You make me sick.”\n\nShirley moved toward the desk, scooting across the floor on her knees. “I’ll do anything. I can’t go back to the wastelands. I just can’t.”\n\nA smile crept across Arthur’s face. His anger didn’t leave from his eyes. “I’ve got a job for you, Shirley.”\n\n“What?” sniffed Shirley. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’ll do anything.”\n\n“Yes,” said Arthur. “You will.” He put his hands together and tented his fingers. “You’ll write up a program for AutoModerator.”\n\n“And?”\n\n“And it will take your place,” screamed Arthur. He slammed his fist down on the desk. “And when you’re done you will leave reddit.”\n\nShirley shook her head. “Why? Why are you doing this?” she whispered. \n\nArthur kicked his chair out behind him as he stood. He placed his hands on the desk, palms flat. His form towered over Shirley. “Because I am an Administrator. You are an employee. You will do what I say and when I am done with you, you will thank me and leave.” \n\n“No,” whispered Shirley. She wrapped her arms around herself in a hug. “No. I won’t do it.”\n\n“Shadowbanned,” boomed Arthur. He pointed at Shirley as he spoke. “Shadowbanned.”\n\nA beam of light from an unknown source illuminated Shirley. She looked up, moving her head around in frantic, jerky motions. “No,” she screamed. Her trembling hands reached out towards Arthur. “I’ll write the program. I’ll do it.”\n\nShirley disappeared. The light turned off.\n\nArthur smiled and sat down in his office chair. He straightened his tie, slicked back a loose strand of hair and looked around the empty office. “I should buy a boat.”\n", "\"Can I go home?\"\n\nJim stared at his computer screen, not really expecting an answer. There was nobody left at the office - nobody but him, that is.\n\nHe let his head fall into his hands. Jim couldn't do this for much longer. But he knew that, without him, reddit would be a much worse place - a place devoid of TL;DRs, a place where anyone could post anything. Jim blearily looked back at his computer screen. He didn't even think it was legal to work this long without a break.\n\nHe needed to eat. He needed to walk around. He needed to do something.\n\nJim stood up, just to walk around for a minute. Just to see something other than the sickly blue glow of his computer screen. The office was dark. The cameras wouldn't see him.\n\nHe stood up and walked over to Huffman's office. He leaned against the door - hard. He let himself slide down. He let the paint peel under his fingernails. He didn't care. He just needed a break.\n\nJim got up and walked back to his desk. Put his hand on the mouse. Reloaded reddit. It had only been five minutes, but there it was, right on the front page - \"AutoModerator down - it's a free-for-all!\". \n\nSuddenly, the lights flicked on.\n\n\"JIM!\"\n\nUh-oh." ]	2
	[WP]A story in a world where being a superhero is a job like any other. They get a salary based on how many villians they catch and how consequential the crimes they stopped are.	[ "The skyline in Gotham was a mix of old and new, concrete arches and spires crowded and thick with all-glass super skyscrapers soaring to the highest heights in the U.S. mecca. The downtown hub and business district ostensibly shone with wealth. Connected and powerful Americans doing large and important things. \n\nHere, an aspiring sidekick could become a real hero; do the good work and get paid the big bucks. He arrived on a train and entered the city amongst the grit and crowds. \n\nHe would peel away the thin veneer and expose the criminal underbelly. That rotten group of criminals that had never been permanently beaten by the Batman or all his powerful allies.\n\nRanger Sun blasted a mugger with his sungun and rescued a stolen purse. Having returned it to the lady, and gotten her signature on all required paperwork he went to the police registry. There was a line.\n\nA piddly $30 in crumpled bills. The hero didn’t even get paid for stopping the battery when a fellow gothamite went to kick the disabled mugger. As his old mentor would say: \"Scout, you got to bank bit by bit, till you got the criminals coming after your bank account!\" and how we would laugh.\n\nThe overweight duty officer said, “Guy. This is Gotham. Can’t you prevent a bridge explosion or chemical weapon detonation or something? I see the big bucks go to you guys for them.” \n\nRanger Sun went to patrol the slums and crime alleys. It was dark, but his sun powered suit had glowing power lines that he realized made him stick out like a beacon of justice.\n\nA woman screamed in terror. The Ranger ran down an alley, where a woman was collapsed on the ground. In a split second analysis he didn’t see any attacker, no clue as to what happened. He quickly checked the vitals of the woman and helped her to her feet, grime caked her skirt.\n\n“My hero!” she kissed him full on the lips, and he felt some substance on her lips, more than lipstick, it bubbled slightly on his lips, uncovered by his mask. He didn’t have time to react before he knew he was drugged.\n\nHe staggered away from the evil woman. \n\nshe collected one stiletto shoe and popped it onto her foot. Adjusted her stocking. \n\n“Huh.” She struck a pose, hand on chin, examining her prey, “A rookie, newbie sidekick, only good for a grand at most. Well at least I’ll have enough to pay off Penguin. Good enough to go home for the night, don’t you think glow-ey?” she mocked him with half shut eyes as he tried to reach for some trick or tool in his belt. He didn’t know anyone in town and had no hope. Ranger Sun lost all consciousness.\n\nHe woke up in an ambulance, struggling and immediately being shushed and stopped by a paramedic. \n\nWhat he found out was that he was in debt for the hospital and the ambulance, and he was charged for the fee Batman received for saving a citizen of the city. His bank account was now into the negatives.\n", "Hey, I get it. My job isn’t for everyone. And it’s, [He sighs.] it’s true, there’s nothing glamorous in the business once you get down past the cape and the mask and the Hollywood bullshit. In the end, we’re nothing but...but law enforcement, really. [He waves away my interjection dismissively.] Not exactly, I know. More like teachers, really; performance is what pays the bills. I just...I like to believe that there’s more too it, you know?\n\nThe media doesn’t help, I’m sure.\n\nYeah, of course. The media, pff. [He aims a rude gesture in the direction of the news anchor on television situated at the end of the bar.] Buncha jerk-offs. You know what they used to call us? Privateers. My ass! We aren’t mercenaries, you understand? We’re just people! People who, at the end of the day, would maybe like to sleep just a little bit easier.\n\nAnd, hey, that’s the most important thing! The quintessential reason why all of us do what we do. Sure, you got the occasional nutjob who enjoys the violence and the power, but most of us, well, there’s a reason some call us “do-gooders.” Out there on the streets each day, at the very least, you can know deep down that you’re doing something right. [He shakes his head.] Privateers.\n\nWould it be too much to ask you to tell me about your last job?\n\nI...of course, it’s just...well, it might not go well. [He twirls a finger next to his temple, grinning.] PTSD’s a bitch.\n\nPlease, if you don’t feel comfortable answering any of the questions...this is entirely your show.\n\nAlright. It was a cold night, the 21st. Rainy too. Typical November weather. Me and my partner, we were staking out this warehouse for the fourth time in the past two months. I don’t even remember why, something about the security footage from the building opposite. Narcotics had passed it by, but we stuck tight for some reason. I’d like to say intuition, but the truth is that we were desperate. Business had been tight that fall, and we needed something big. I mean, petty theft is all fine and good as long as you can rely on a steady supply - a single pickpocket gets you what, maybe a fifty from the collection office, if you’re lucky - but thieves are just like rats; you can pick off one or two once in a while, but once you start going crazy, they’ll know where to avoid. And we’d been going after too many rats as it was.\n\nSo there we were, camped out in the back of a company minivan with a pair of binoculars and a couple six-packs of Redbull, when our police scanner goes berserk. Dispatcher is calling in every available unit to a 10-79 just down the street.\n\n10-79?\n\nBomb threat. We take one look at each other, my partner and I, and in five seconds flat we’re in the front seats doing at least sixty. We take the corner on two wheels and screech to a halt in front of what I now realize is the local subway station. The goddamn thing is completely surrounded by maybe seven cruisers, lights flashing. The air is full of the wail of sirens and the feedback squeal of bullhorns.\n\nWe haven’t even gotten out of the van when the perp makes a break for it. He comes charging up the stairwell, submachine gun firing sporadically in our direction. The cops open up with everything, and the brick wall he’s running in front of appears to disintegrate. Somehow, he manages to clear the shooting gallery and parks a full clip into the face of one of the officers on the edge as he vaults the barricade. Even from across the street, I can see the poor shmuck’s face literally explode.\n\nHe makes a break for it across the street, the cops still trying to figure out what happened. Right towards us. Too easy, right? And, I’m not going to lie, a dead cop would boost the capture value on this guy by at least two grand. We got out and leveled our tasers - nonlethals only, company regs - and shouted “Freeze!”\n\nHe turns to look and I take a step forward as I fire. One small step. [He raises his hand, his thumb and index finger less than an inch apart.] And, in hindsight, one giant leap. [He leans back, the epitome of nonchalance except for the slight quiver in his voice.] The truck comes out of nowhere. You know the rest. [He reaches down and raises the cuff of his left pant-leg to reveal a sliver of his artificial leg.]\n\nAnd how would you describe your actions that night?\n\nWhoa, hang on a second. I talk the talk, sure. Walk the walk, well, not in a while. \n\nBut I ain’t stupid. And I’m sorry, but if what you’re down here sifting through the coal for is a diamond, I can’t help you. If there’s one thing this business has taught me, it’s this: We aren’t heroes.\n\n[I tell him I understand, and thank him for his time. He waves away my proffered twenty, insisting on paying for the drinks. As I stand, intending to take my leave, he catches my arm in a grip, the strength of which remains undulled by time.]\n\nHey... [He laughs, running a hand through his hair.] Hell, I don’t know. It’s just-\n\nWell...sometimes I see things. Little things, you know. [He looks up at me and, for the first time since we shook hands, he smiles.] But they make me believe, just for an instant.\n\nLooking in a place like this, it won’t get you anywhere. You’re thinking about it too hard. You don’t need to talk to someone with villains to find a hero." ]	2
We know the night sky is dead history, light sent from thousands or millions of years ago. But the team we sent finds that if you go far enough, all the light simply cuts off, and much closer than we expected.	[WP] Humanity has developed ftl travel, and sent a team to the closest star. But when they've almost reached it, all the light and stars wink out.	[ "When faster than lighting was discovered in the year 2200 during a freaky accident in the ISIC (International Space Investigation Center) involving an intern and a microwave oven, humanity was filled with hope. The Earth was now just short of being a wasteland, and countries that was beamed with green landscapes were barren deserts. A team was quickly assembled and the Centauri project was initiated. With the mission of reaching the nearest start in sight a starship was created, making justice to the name as it would reach a star. Five years passed before all the arrangements were made and the vessel could be launched, a team of three was to be sent into space, once it reached the asteroid belt it would the ship was to reach max speed, roughly two times the speed of light and set course towards alpha centauri. The mission was a success and the ship reached the asteroid belt without any inconvenience, once there the ship went into FTL travel and disappeared from all of earth monitoring systems, and so the 2.185 years began.\n\nTime passed and people forgot about the ship that was crossing space in that moment looking for a glace of hope for us humans. The ship was schedule to arrive Alpha Centauri Bb on christmas eve 2207, celebrations where to take place at midnight in honor of those brave men that were crossing the skies and taking the risk no other was able to take. Midnight came and people began to feast and drink in team's honor. It was in that moment when the starts began to blink out, one by one disappearing from the firmament. People looked into the sky with awe and fright, they all disappeared, slowly at first the faster and faster. The last one to blink out was Alpha Centauri and when its light disappeared from the sky and all there was left was darkness in the sky humanity was doomed.", " The entire world sat and waited eagerly as CoS-1 approached Alpha Centauri A, the closest star to earth. We have waited 4 years to get to this moment and finally, it is time. Everyone in the country with a TV watched the event from the multiple cameras placed aboard the ship. CoS-1 was just 3 light hours away from getting into the range of the star in which they will begin the orbit, when every star in the system went black. Everyone and everything went quiet as fear sunk through their veins. A cracky voice spoke up from inside the ship, \"humanity wasn't supposed to make it this far.\" And all the cameras cut off.", "The Asimov Engine... Mankind's answer to the impossible distances of space. Suddenly, the whole galaxy was within our reach. It was also to be our salvation. Our planet was dying. The very ground beneath us long ago sucked dry of natural resources. Half of the worlds oceans were now too polluted to sustain life. Sea levels that had risen 15 feet in the the last 150 years, leaving billions displaced. It had become clear that our time here was ending, what remained to be answered was whether or not we could find a new home before it was too late.\nThere were small settlements on both the moon and Mars, but sadly, these relied on regular supplies to be shipped from Earth. Our attempts at terraforming yielded little results, and our most liberal estimates put a fully viable terraformed environment on Mars another 500 years down the road. This would not do at all, especially since our projections gave our species 75 years tops.\nIndividual national sovereignty had long since vanished, no one country possessing resources enough to make its survival certain without help from the combined global republic. We had essentially achieved world peace, albeit out of necessity rather than altruism and morality. It was almost humorous that we managed it only when faced with our iminant demise.\nThere were great debates about humanities next step. The North American and British isles block were big pushers for selective extinction: allowing large swathes of each population to die off, while holding supplies for a select portion so that they may live on a bit longer. When it became evident that the majority of the select portions' were made up of the wealthy elite of these two blocks, the plan was decisively put to veto. When faced with the complete extinction of the human race, money had finally started to lose its worth. \nThen the idea of a great ship was proposed. An Arc, so to speak. One that could shepherd humanity to a new home among the stars. Our ability to peer into the heavens and detect planets orbiting other stars had grown by leaps and bounds within the last 50 years, our most advanced moon based telescopes being able to detect earth like planets with ease and accuracy. A suitable home was indeed found in our neighborhood, orbiting the star Cerae B, a mere 25 light years away. Our readouts indicated that the planet, dubbed Valhalla, had an atmospheric composition almost identical to earth 1000 years ago. Large oceans and green land masses were also detected. It was perfect, yet just out of reach. \nAnd so began the debate on how to reach it. The Russians proposed a craft propelled by detonating nuclear warheads to propel it, the French proposed hunting for wormholes, and the Japanese proposed a ship that eerily resembled a giant robot. But the issue of distance remained. Even if we whipped the craft to breakneck speeds using Jupiters gravity, it would take several generations to reach. Hope seemed to fade as quickly as it appeared. \nThen Mr. Asimov gave the world it's salvation. A craft that utilized dark matter to bend space and time, effectively achieving the impossible; FTL. The eccentric and reclusive billionaire had even taken it upon himself to build his own ship, but not just for himself. It was able to house a population of 700000 souls, and could reach Valhalla in a meer 17 years. Of course, tickets were in high demand, yet how do you buy something when everything you can give literally has no value? Asimov then did the unthinkable. After selecting a small portion of those he deemed essential, (scientists, ecologists, doctors, engineers, and strangely cartoonists), he then began to invite those who wrote the most convincing essays on why their lives were important. Over several billion prompts were received, only several hundred thousand were chosen. \nThose lucky enough to procure a seat were brought to the ship (oddly named Gaia's End) which orbited earth. And thus began the voyage, the great escape. Shortly after the great Exodus, the Earth descended into anarchy, it's last messages to the Gaia's End being hate filled and tragic. (Will write more tomorrow)" ]	3
Instantly all that persons memories and everything they knew is suddenly beamed out to every living person.	[WP] Every time someone dies everyone else alive gains their memory and knowledge	[ "Warning: This is my first \"writing prompts\" and English is not my main language. \n\nDarkrak was the most terrible assassin of its planet. He killed in the most atrocious way thousands of people and he enjoyed his \"job\". He laughed when a small girl was pierced by his driller, his eyes watched with satisfaction the last moments of a beheaded head, the terrible loudly and painfully cries of his victims were lovely music for his ears. Little kids, pregnant women, smart politicians, sad teachers, legless veterans. Everybody were good for his terrible thirst of death.\n\nBut this was not the most terrible characteristic of Darkrak. The worst fact was that he was perfectly lucid and coherent in his actions. For each assassination, Darkrak had a perfect scheme, a clear ideal and an impressive plot.\n\nIn the afternoon of 23rd Ren 1922 this awful creature was in front of Han Emani, decisioner of Beianj. Years of investigations and deaths of numerous colleagues finally had given some results. Han's gun was pointed on Darkrak's head: one click and the death of his wife Charlotte and his daughter Mellisse would be revenged. When they died, it was terrible: all their conscience passed suddenly on him and on all the people of the planet. Everybody cried on their assassinations, everybody but Darkrak. He laughed: the greatest protagonist of that awful show.\n\n\"Why? Why are you doing something like this?\"\n\nThe mouth of Darkrak exploded in an acute but compose laugh. Han knew that was the predictable reaction. If he wished to know the answer of that question, he needed only to press the trigger. One simple gesture of his finger and Darkrak's memory would be his. His and of all the humanity.\n\n\"Kill me Han! You are the best man of this stupid planet. It would be a pleasure for me to donate you all my memories and knowledge.\"\n\nHan almost pressed the trigger. It was so inviting to end that miserable life. Then with a yelled curse, he threw the gun on the floor and jumped on that monster. Darkrak didn't give any resistance. He only continued to smile under the sequence of punches that the decisioner gave on his face. He smiled even when he lost consciousness.\n\nThe decisioner sighed relieved. He was not sure that his plan could work. He extracted a syringe from his pocket. Empty mind poison. A little of this venom in the blood to make all the memories disappear. He pointed on a vein of the arm and... \n\nDarkrak winked to Han. Then he closed his mouth with a strong bite. Immediately a fake tooth broke and the contained cyanide started to spill on the tongue of the monster. Without losing another moment Han injected the empty mind poison on Darkrak.\n\nIn the run between the two poison, the cyanide won. \n\nThe Darkrak's memories flew in every mind of the planet. In Han's mind. \n\nThe decisioner watched the death body of Darkrak. Then he hugged him. Now he understood. \n\n", "\"Excuse me, ma'am. You need to come with us, now.\"\n\nMy eyes turned to regard the man who was speaking to me. He stood next to his partner with a stance that suggested a calm urgency. I took in the sight of their dark suits, mirrored sunglasses, and the matching scars above their left eyebrows, and knew that the worst had happened.\n\n\"My kids!\" A sudden urgency gripped my chest so strongly that I could hardly breathe. \"Where are they?\"\n\n\"Safe,\" the man replied. \"We just received word that they were picked up from school a few minutes ago, and are on their way to a safe location. We will bring you to them but it has to be now.\"\n\n\"No!\" This was happening too quickly. It couldn't be real. \"There has to be some mistake. \" Tears were streaming down my face, now. I couldn't see the two men who had come to take me to safety, but somehow I felt the pity in their eyes. \"My husband...\"\n\n\"I'm very sorry, ma'am, but there was a car accident. Your husband is dead. And he loved you and you children very, very much.\"\n\nMy legs buckled, but I was caught in mid-fall and ushered towards the SUV they had arrived in. The man continued.\n\n\"That's why we have to get you and you children to a safe house. In less than an hour, everyone on the planet is going to be overwhelmed by your husband's memories. They're going to feel the same way about you and your children as he did.\"\n\nThe agent glanced at his watch.\n\n\"In 37 minutes, every man, woman and child in the city is going to feel the love you husband had for you, and the pain you're feeling at his loss. Until the population is able to come to terms with those feelings...\"\n\nHe gingerly placed me in the back of the dark SUV, and shut the door. I may have been imagining it, but I could swear his voice had begun to crack as he spoke.\n\n\"...we're going to have to keep you and your children hidden. For your own safety.\"", "It burned. It always did. Every second of everyday, the memories searing themselves into my mind; the pain a lingering reminder of the lives just past. My first death was excruciating, as the memories came flooding into my head; it brought me to my knees. Tears filling my eyes as I watched this persons life flash before my eyes, first kiss, first car, murder of their child... They're gone now, but their memories still remain. Permanently etched into my mind. We all felt it, the rush of memories filling everyone's minds. Some dealt with it better than others; the occasional tear or quiet outcry, but no more, whilst others screamed out in agony, clutching their heads as the pain surged through them.\n\nThey say only the strong remain now. For the ones who screamed in agony, they took matters into their own hands. And one by one their memories flooded others minds, we felt the relief they felt; the shackles of pain and despair lifted from them as they were freed of those memories. Finally freed of the torture that they faced; that we faced. But we are not strong, we are scared. Terrified of the end, of death. But who knows, maybe one day I'll free myself, when the memories I bear prove too great, and the temptation of that blissful relief becomes to good to resist. Maybe one day I'll free myself. Maybe one day I'll be strong." ]	3
Additional ideas: - One of the higher ranking members in the "fun police" secretly runs one of the largest productions of backstreet "fun" and his superiors have called for a raid on it - The future is in fact a Utopia, as those without fun don't realise what they're missing and only the few that ever have fun realise that with fun comes "not having fun" and have vowed to save the others from ever having fun Would really love to see this one written by people who make this shit sound good as fuck u feel me ps. mods tell me if you want me to take down additional ideas as it sort of goes against the whole "prompt" thing so i would totally be chill with that	[WP] In a dystopian future, "fun" is the currency and sole reason for living, the rich have all the fun whilst the poor live dull lives. Backstreet "fun" is produced and policed by the "fun police"	[ "Here we were again. How did this happen? We'd had fun so many times in our lives, but we were right back here again. I've always been so jealous of the rich, they don't have to worry about anything. The adorable shacks they live in, the beautiful squalor, the filth, it's marvelous, while we have to live in poverty in this sad, ornate house. \n\nAnother tea party. Another day of feigning smiles and making idle conversation. None of us are having fun. None of us ever do anymore. We just all fake it. We want to be like them.\n\nMelinda walked over to me, a clearly plastic smile plastered across her smug face. \"Hi, Donna, I hope the kids are doing well. Did you hear that Robert and I were going to fly to Cancun this weekend?\"\n\n\"Hi, Melinda. That's wonderful, are you excited?\" I said, my sarcasm and loathing coming out a bit too strongly.\n\n\"Well, Donna, my dear, please remember that I said Robert and I WERE going to fly to Cancun. The airline out of nowhere decided to cancel our tickets. The NERVE of those people! I'm going to write a letter.\"\n\nThe lying bitch.\n\n\"Do you think they'd really listen to people like us, Melinda? Let's just be honest with ourselves, we know we don't have much fun and just try to be like the rich.\"\n\nHer smile dropped, and she pulled me aside from the \"festivities\".\n\n\"If you EVER say that I don't have any fun ever again, I swear that I'll make you poorer than you could imagine. That's a promise.\"\n\nIt seems that I'll be staying poor for quite some time as long as that bitch is in my life.", "The feeling was like missing a step on the stairs, but instead of anxiety, I felt elated. All it took was a tic of the head from Marquis in the direction of the alleyway. My feet moved for me and I levitated along to the entrance. The two lookouts gave solemn nods to Marquis and then, to my astonishment, to me. \n\nHere, Marquis said, you take the stick in your hand like this, he clasped his hand over mine, and you hit at the hoop like this. He whacked the edge of the hoop which sent it down the alleyway. It hit into a small pile of garbage and jumped up as if it had been scared, and then flopped over. You gotta avoid the garbage, he said, it's hard. \n\nI had done many hard things in my life. In fact, all of it seemed to be hard. But I'd never gotten any fun out of it.\n\nGo on, Marquis beckoned. I looked at the stick and then puffed out a plosive sigh. I rolled the hoop and hit it with the stick and it fell over. I looked over at Marquis. You're not sposed to get hit on yer first try, he assured me, youse gotsta keep on gone. I expelled a puff of air again as if it were the exhaust of something that had kindled inside of me. Yeah, I wanted to do the hard thing.\n\nIt took an hour but I'd gotten the hoop going. With deft whacks to the correct place on the hoop I could make it swerve and slalom around the trash and correct it when it wobbled dangerously. Gone! You got hit! Marquis cheered as I went particularly far, dancing around the empty glue bottles and curving around the pigeon carcass and driving away a mangy cat. Go! Gone! Marquis' voice matched some sort of singing inside my own heart and I knew that this was 'fun' and it was a magical place I'd never want to leave. \n\nI felt like I was falling, and then I was falling. My foot caught a brick that was the same color as the dead grey concrete underfoot and my stick missed its mark on the hoop. I went down and the stick clattered limply. I looked up and saw the hoop carrying on its way down the alley, and then looked back at Marquis. He had a big 'O' expression on his face as if he were watching someone he knew to be innocent be hanged in the square. I looked back to the hoop where he was looking and watched its momentum carry it to the flat of the dumpster where it banged with a sonorous echo that shattered in the whole alley like a whole cabinet of silverware dropping to the floor. Before I could stand Marquis flew down the alley, his shoes clopping and making more noise. I jumped up and followed him. By the time I was running he'd already disappeared. The exit seemed to narrow in front of me, but I was almost free.\n\nI felt blood in my eyes and concrete against my back all of a sudden. My nose had clammered into something that'd filled the entrance to the alley without warning. When I regained my vision, I saw that I was caught in the shadow of two grey-shirted monuments. I could see myself in their reflective visors. Far away, the little boy who was made fat by the convex mirror looked terrified. \n\n\"You know the rules,\" the monument said. I did know the rules; I chanted them every morning in discipline instruction. I just felt so sorry but my mouth wouldn't work. The sun was the color of steel amongst the ghostly smog. Then, it was blotted out by the void black of a truncheon risen in authority. \n\nWhen the boy was whacked he fell immediately to his side in compliance, but his posture lacked discipline. The truncheon came down again on his ribs with a satisfying 'clack.' The boy whimpered in cowardice. Again, he was disciplined upon the fingers which laced about his head and he drew them away. The truncheon came down on his buttocks and when his hands flew down to try to save it the truncheon rapped those and they were drawn away again. The officer chuckled and gave the boy a thwack on his buttocks again, which the boy tried to cover with his hands, and the officer then attacked the hands again. Hah, hah, hah, the officer said to himself, and switched it up, feeling creative, smacking him on the thighs and listening to a drawn out, raspy groan from the rapscallion, which suggested an impudent indeference to authority. He noticed that his shoes were inadequate, and gave a hefty blow onto his feet. Hah! Hah hah hah! The officer was laughing out loud. Eagerly, he raised the club to pound the whelp upon his crown when it would not move. He turned around to see his superior clutching his arm in a stone grip. His face was grave. He stared at it for a while and gathered from the ice gaze what he had forgotten. Come on now, the face said tonelessly. I know, I know, he said. I know the rules. ", "Three months. This represented a new record, I'm sure, though recording such data represented a modicum of data collecting and interest long since barred from our thread bare and dull lives. We couldn't be trusted with recording records. Too sensationalist - too thirsty for the thrill of it all. \"Any data set can be construed to tell a fantastic lie.\" This could be true, as was always the case, but this was exerted to the extent that it could be likened to any food being used to cause asphyxiation via choking. Let's blame the dumpling for the murder, shall we? Too soft a dumpling indeed. Or perhaps too firm? God knows.\n\nThis was how we were played. Again, and plainly, our dumb congregation of \"have not\" required control mechanisms here and there. What developed, though, were safeguards for those very safeguards, and so on, and even rescue safeguards for the disaster that could occur in the most hypothetical circumstance where a domino effect occurred on an already all too planned (and all too populous) bored and intellectually starving mass of very normal folk. \n\nAncient history, by now. I'm ashamed to have subjected you to such a lesson. Quite frankly, I'm not sure if my reader is a common numb skull or a silent thinker, as am I and many others who developed a most interesting game to make entertainment of it all. But I now know you're one of us, because 95% of our lot would have stopped reading at the first sentence that hosted more than two commas. The other 5% are going to look over the following and consider themselves \"well read.\" Thank you for joining us, and though I am long dead now, let me share with you how we had our fun:\n\nThe 5% are all too easy to motivate. Our first game was to create a pass-time where we simply gaze into very static dice, without mention, and after three or so hours we would suddenly come alive with deliberation. Mind you, our task as the 95% was to drive the living entity of our arguments. Oh - but you know the police all thought we were absolutely bat shit mad. Some were even angry. Some of us determined that this particular exercise created about 630,500 man hours of work for them. Countless scientific measures were also taken. In short, a beauty. \n\n[I'll tap in anyone else who wants to carry this story home, other wise I'll finish it tomorrow]\n\n\n\n", "We stood in a back alley, lights blaring all around us as the FunPo went on their nightly hunt. I stared at the man before me, he looked like shit, smelled like shit, and his teeth were brown like chocolate. I leaned in close, \"Yo man, you got the stuff?\"\n\nHe grinned his shit eating grin, \"You betcha, best kind we got...\"\n\nHe opened up a burlap sack with a faded happy face on it. Inside, was a taped up and cracked Nintendo 64. \n\nJesus. Christ.\n\nStuck in the system was an old faded copy of Mario Kart 64. Three controllers, one was a MadCatz, but fuck it, where could you find such primo fun these days? God damn this could get me my fix for months...\n\n\"...how...how much?\"\n\nThat grin, that horrible grin, \"Two goofy nickels, and a real smile.\"\n\nFuck that was steep. He was really giving it to me here. I reached in my pocket, past the knife, and past the needle filled with laughing whimsy, and pulled out the cash. Two purple nickels with laughing happy faces, and a dollar with a clown on it. As I placed it in his hands they squeaked, and his face lit up. Yeah, they were legit.\n\nHe handed me the bag and the light fell on us.\n\n\"Hold it right there!\"\n\nFuck, I whipped around, pulling out my modified Nerf rifle, to see two of the FunPos, fun police, staring at us. Their outfits lined with sour faces, and they wore stern frowns. Pointed at us were their AntiLaughing gas guns. They saw my Nerf rifle and hesitated, but I never would again. \n\nI snatched up the bag, punching the old timer in the face. My glove resounded a loud Hulk Smash! as I hit him. He fell to the ground, grinning, as I ran past him.\nI hit the fence at a sprint, and my moon bounce shoes shot me over the barrier. I landed on the other side, and grinned at the FunPos shaking their angry old fists at me. \n\nI ran to the street, and ducked in an old abandoned building. I was under one of the wealthy's billboards. It advertised the Xbox Two, the latest and greatest in fun. Those monsters. We have to get by on what we had. They had stand up comedians at their beck and call, we had to try and tune into old reruns of Adam Sandler movies to get our fix. Their ball pits were so bright and colorful, our balls were deflated and wouldn't bounce. \n\nEver since the incident, ever since the catastrophe, fun came at a price. Those monsters took it too far, they had actually monetized fun. Ever since that day, so long ago...\n\nI checked my haul, I had done pretty well. Maybe my girl could get in on some of my action. She'd been playing with a straightened out slinky for a month. I was worried she was running out of whimsy. The thought, terrified me. If she ran out, it was off to the library to rewrite all the old textbooks and then go to grammar school. I'd rather die.\n\nI walked out into the street, pulled out a candy cigarette, and started walking home. Two poor kids were in the street, they were throwing an old baseball around. One dropped it and it rolled to my feet. They watched me with fear in their eyes. I grinned, but off a chunk of my cigarette, and tossed them the ball. Then I reached in my back pocket, and handed them an old packet of smarties. Still in shape, but the candy was crumbling into dust. \n\n\"Nah,\" the taller boy spoke, \"my pa says I ain't ready for the hard shit.\"\n\nI pocketed the candy, tipped my tall red and white hat, and made my way home. This world is running out of whimsy, and I'm it's Joker.\n\nWhen I got home, I found my dame reading a book. I grabbed that shit out of her hands and threw it out the window. We fought a lot that night, but she calmed down when she saw the N64, and I gave her the smarties. We went to bed uneasy that night. Our world is a jack in the box, always at the lid, never bouncing out.\n\nI close my eyes, and hope for a brighter tomorrow, as I turn over in our water bed.", "It happened again, the effing fun police. Reddit moderators some call them. I posted a reply on a WP post about the \"fun police.\" They removed my post about this fantisifull post being a reflection of how poor black people get sent to jail for non violent drug offenses when most white offenders do not...because drugs are fun. They said it wasn't a story. Well they ruin my fun. I don't like the \"fun police.\" ", "As they ushered me through the doors I though back to how this all began. A high school teachers convention meant we got a half day from school. A half day meant double homework, to keep us busy. I got home, settled into my desk and dug into my calculus homework. Derivatives. I had figured out the shortcut, but was forced to show my work anyway. It took forever. \n\n\"Don't tell me you're actually doing homework, Dan,\" Mike said stepping to my window. \n\n\"I got too much and not enough time. They all gave me too much, as if they didn't know the other teachers were doubling up too. I'll be up late.\" \n\n\"I'm sure you got a little time for some soccer,\" Mike grinned at my reaction. I could never say no to a game. \"Johnston's Stadium,\" he said, and ran off. Failing to conceal the bulge of the ball underneath his jacket. \n\nJohnston's Stadium was a generally unused alley behind Johnston's Metalworks. It had acquired it's name years ago after becoming the home to our contraband games. Back then in our imaginations we were playing for Manchester United, Real Madrid and Bayern Munich, not behind the loudest factory in the neighborhood. The name had stuck. \n\nWhen I arrived the game was already in motion. I joined the team down a man and leveled the field at 6v6. It's hard not to feel like a little kid again when you get so little time to enjoy yourself. My parent's made little Fun, and most of that was spent on food and rent. What was left over we had they were saving for a vacation, one I was sure was never going to happen. \n\nI replayed the moment from earlier today in my head. I was winded. I sprinted back to help on defense. Then sprinted back the other way on a fast break. The goalie caught the ragged ball and slowed down play. I bent over, hands on my knees and took a few deep breaths. Then over the din of the machine work inside I heard concerned shouting. I looked up and everyone was scattering, at the far end of the alley a police SUV approached. I turned to run the other way and saw two more approaching from the other side. \n\nI tried to run, but I didn't make it very far. My side was cramped and I was entire out of breath. I saw no option but to try an run past, and was tackled immediately. My friends lead them on a chase. I was cuffed and brought to the station. As they pushed me into what appeared to be an interrogation room, after about an hour in a cell, I still had no idea if they had caught anyone else or not. \n\nFollowing me into the room was Detective Hernandez, a young man who looked Irish and spoke with a light Spanish accent. He was dressed as if prepared for a SWAT mission, though the bulletproof vest read DFF, short for Drugs, Fun, and Firearms. He ran his hand through his hair, let out a deep sigh, and plopped into the seat across from me. \n\nHe gestured to the glass window separating us and the room next door. The light on the other side was on, and I could see there was no one hidden behind my reflection. \"Here's how it's going to be.\" When my gaze swung back he gestured to the camera above him. As I looked up the red light on it went out. \"I'm going to be honest with you. You're going to be honest with me.\" Finally he pushed aside the audio recorder set between us. I noted it was not on. \"And after the fact we can decide what goes on the record.\" If I was nervous before the malicious grin he flash nearly set me into a panic. This man could say the word and I'd be in a labor camp before I knew it. \n\n\"So you have quite the list of charges here, uhhh...\" he flipped through the stack of paper work before him, \"Daniel. Do you mind if I call you Danny?\"\n\n\"I prefer Dan actually.\"\n\n\"Quite the list indeed Danny. Conspiracy to have unsanctioned Fun. Production of contraband Fun. Illicit trading of Fun. Counterfeiting Fun.\" That last one followed a special kind of logic. By playing soccer illegally I was creating \"counterfeit Fun\". By playing with a friend I was (illegally) trading that Fun. So therefore I conducted business with 'fake' fun. He read several more, but I was still working through counterfeiting Fun. I had trouble wrapping my head around it still. After all, does it really even matter. I was trading that Fun for an equal amount of equally illegal fun. Does it really make a difference. I guess anything to get a few more years of forced labor out of me. \n\n\"I'm gonna if you a choice here. You listening Danny. A choice. Not a whole lot of people get this choice. So I want you to think long, and I want you to think hard about it.\" What followed wasn't so much of a choice as much as it was an ultimatum, \"You can either A: Work for me and get paid to play soccer.\" What? That can't be right. People who got to play sports were basically the richest people in the world. Other people spent their Fun so that athletes could enjoy themselves. And then those athletes got paid even more fun to do it. Exorbitant amounts. So what's the catch? I thought. No one just gives away that opportunity. \"Or B, and listen close Danny boy, or B: I blow your brains out because 'you were reaching for my gun'.\" To emphasize the point he slammed his handgun on the table between us. \n\nI glanced down at my shackles. I'd never be able to reach his gun where it sat now. Hardly a choice at all. I felt defeated, but I tried to sound elated. After all, what kid doesn't want to get paid to play soccer? \"Work for the DFF? Get paid to play--\"\n\n\"Whoa kid, I didn't say anything about working for the DFF. I'd say you work for me. Me and some the the guys here got a little thing on the side. Underground games, gambling and a couple of bars. It's not exactly legal. But don't you know the craziest thing? The DFF doesn't even have us on their radar. Weird, considering how much money we move.\" The Detective had the subtlety of a ox. Not that he could sweeten the deal any, it was do this for him or die. My choice was made for me from the start. \n\n\"I don't care. I'll take it.\" Then belatedly I added. \"This is the offer of a lifetime.\"\n\n-----\n\nWhen I think back on that day, all those years ago, I always wonder what happened to the others. I always hoped they got away. Or failing that the labor camps. Even death would be better than this. ", "\"Hey.\" She shuffled closer to her acquaintance. \"I saw someone today.\"\n\nHe didn't look up at her. As always, the dreary winter rains of their home town kept him, and every one of the poor, depressed, if not in misery. More so even than The Police.\n\nShit, The Police.\n\nShe looked away as the bland white cruiser drove past. No lights on, as ever. The Officer glanced at them through an open side window, but did not speak or make eye contact. Not that she was looking at in that direction, in any case.\n\nShe looked back at her acquaintance. Can't trip the Sensor... \n\n\"We need to purchase food.\"\n\n\"Mmmf.\"\n\nOf course they did. They were poor and hungry, but that was just the excuse she needed to get him walking. He wasn't going to be looking in which direction they were heading, this was her Walk In Front Day. She rehearsed the pattern.\n\n50 meters, then turn right, avoid the sensor in 11 meters by turning right, then left again into the alley. Enter the door before knocking.\n\nAnd so they did, at an unassuming 2 room bachelor's flat. She rapped on the open door twice quickly, waited one second and then rapped again and closed the door behind them.\n\n\"Ah,\" a glowing voice made up for the darkness in the first room. \"You're finally here, Lila.\" A tiny light snuffed out in the second room, and now everything was dark again. Until he spoke.\n\n\"I assume this is your friend, Chris?\"\n\nChris' head snapped up. \"The Sensors-\" \n\nHe drooped his head at the mere thought of being caught. Can't trip-\n\n\"The sensors?\" The man laughed. \"They can't get in here. We made sure of that. We're safe, and from the police too, even if we don't have too much time. Shall we get this over with?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Lila grabbed Chris' hand before he could start wandering outside again. \"I think he's got the best potential of the lot back at Blackbox, Calem.\"\n\n\"Alright then!\" Calem took hold of Chris' shoulders. \"Chris,\" he looked him up and down. \"You're about to take us another step toward remaking our world...\" He clapped his hands over Chris'. \"Think about your favorite thing, then imagine flying towards the sky while holding it.\" He made several intricate waving motions with his hands and fingers. \"Now, hold out your hands, open cupped, but together.\"\n\nA spark.\n\n\"You chose wisely again, Lila! Another jumpstart for happiness in our world!\"\n\nA tiny flame burst forth between his hands. Sheltered, but alive.\n\n---\n\nHe rode the elevator to the 34th floor. He had called a meeting with all his people. They had made an important breakthrough in The Process. Now was the time to reveal it.\n\nEveryone was already there, 5 minutes early, as always. As expected.\n\n\"Gentleman,\" he glanced at each in turn. \"He was successful. We can begin The Process now.\"\n\nThey all turned towards one person sitting in the far left corner of the room. He stood up, and walked towards the man in front.\n\n\"Christopher,\" he indicated to the rest of the people occupying the room. \"Care to demonstrate why The Rebels will no longer have an upper hand on Society?\"\n\nChristopher flicked his left wrist.\n\nA spark.\n\nAlive, but not living.\n\nA tool for The Process.", "Everything in life is so pointless.\n\nI've been doing this my whole life. And what for? I'm literally going through four thick books every month memorizing every detail, analyzing every word, the nuances in the phrases used... just so that I can get a proper teaching job like Dad.\n\nFifteen years of this 'education', all just so that I can grow up and be like Dad? He's a great dad, that's for sure, taught us about the world - the constellations in the night sky, the bugs in the garden, how the rainbows are formed.... taught us values - to not steal from others, and to not tell lies... and provided for us.\n\nBut there was something that our family lacked... \n\nEverything just feels so empty, so dull, so... dead. \n\nWhile Jack and his family toured the world every summer, while David and his brother took up interesting sports like learning to fence and hunt, all we had is books - old, leather-bound books that Dad used to read when he was young. I've read every classic at least twice, from the Scarlet Letter to the Frankenstein, I've read so many of them that I can't tell the difference in those worlds anymore.\n\nPeople often say that I'm blessed for having a teacher as a father, for having so many great literary works around to enjoy, and that reading a book is experiencing life through someone else's eyes, that reading a book is seeing the world from different perspectives, but frankly that's nonsense.\n\nI don't hate Dad or blame him for being a poor teacher, but sometimes I just wish that I was born into the household of a businessperson, or a doctor, anything but a teacher, but what's the use thinking about the things I can't change?\n\nMaybe some day I'll man up and just go out to have fun like the delinquents, without a damn care in the world.\n\nMaybe some day I'll lose myself in a world of wonder and joy.\n\nMaybe some day I'll stop being me.\n\nBut for now... I should stop all these pointless thoughts and get back to my books.\n\nAfter all, whatever would I do if I fail to be a teacher like Dad? \n\nEverything in life is so pointless.", "With a chip on his shoulder, the Captain of the Guard stood up and saluted. \"All right, guys. No more giggling or cavorting. We've got work to do.\"\n\nThe new recruits stood in a line, stifling grins and muted laughter. The shortest, and most distracted of the bunch was Graham Tanner. Graham Tanner, like the rest of the new souls in the Entertainment Guard, came from the slums of the Sneer County. Most of the Ent. G came from there, as a matter of fact; the majority of them being former addicts.\n\nThis sham, this 'fun' - it was tearing the country apart. That's why I signed on to the Ent. G, why I tried my damndest to keep the fun off the streets.\n\nAnd I did well. Within a couple of years, I had risen from recruit to Assistant Guard. My uncompromising veneer and dedication to the force had made sure that fun stayed away from the children, from the workers, from everyone who might be compromised by its foul, sweet taste, and its disgusting effects on the human body.\n\nFirst came the smile. The uncontrollable urge to bare your teeth like a caged, snarling lion. Then, the giggles - a spasm of wretched, mutilated coughs that begin as small bubbles of laughter, before exploding into a paroxysm of wheezing and aching lungs. The very concept of fun was the antithesis of a civilised society, and we clamped down on these criminals like the diseased animals they were.\n\n\"I'll take it from here, sir. I've walked this line so many times I know it better than the back of my own stun gauntlet,\" I offered, checking the charge on the aforementioned gauntlet. 100%. I'll be sure to take a few down tonight.\n\n\"Very well. It's 1800 now, so I expect you all back at 2100 hours with a full report of arrests and convictions made tonight.\"\n\nTurning on my heel, transfering my cap from beneath my right arm to atop my head, I marched the new blood out of the headquarters and into the streets.\n\n---\n\nThe beat tonight was set to take place along an old street - Carousel Street. One of the worst, known for years to be a den of fun abusers. Illegitimate fun, created using distillation of base ingredients like happiness, vigour, enthusiasm, love... \nThe very thought of it sent sensations of nausea straight to my stomach. The thought of anyone willingly giving themselves over to fun made my head spin.\n\nWe set off, starting from the southern end of Carousel Street. Dilapidated houses, displaced people with wry grins on their faces, the air full of sweet stenches and foul aromas of distilled vigor...\n\n\"Hey, mister!\" Came the voice of a young child, bounding up along the street, locking me in his gaze. He was skipping.\n\"Yes, son?\" I snarled, unwilling to continue this conversation.\n\"My mummy says you're here to take the fun away. Is that true?\" He pleaded, his lower lip wobbling. I felt no compassion for the child.\n\"True as the sky's grey,\" I replied, playing an ironic smile across my face to intimidate the whelp. He gasped, and took off.\n\"After him,\" I instructed my recruits, and made pursuit.\n\nThe smells only grew stronger, as I barreled down the street, following the little boy. After a minute, he ducked into a side street, an alleyway off the main road, and through a small door. Instructing two of my men to remain either side of the door, I kicked it down. \"ENT GUARD! HANDS IN THE AIR!\" I bellowed, brandishing my stun gauntlet with palm forward, fingers together, while three of the officers piled in behind me.\n\nThe room was silent, aside from the bubbling of the sickly lab equipment, and the muted cries of children. A singular, shaken woman stood still, her hands stuck in the air in submission. \"What are you making here?\" I asked, pointing to the distillation and centrifuge in the corner of the room. \"Is this fun? Are you distilling fun?\" I demanded.\n\nThe mute woman slowly nodded. I kept my palm pointed towards her, and gestured for an officer to take her down. Graham Tanner quickly obeyed, sauntering over with a calculated snarl on his face.\n\nSuddenly, a loud crash sounded throughout the room. A small explosion soon after rocked the small hut and myself, along with my three officers and the small woman, were flung back out through the door, collapsing in a heap against the floor after slamming into wall at the other side of the alley, thoroughly winded.\n\n---\n\nI rose with a sweet, burning smell in my nostrils. The colours of the world seemed more vivid; the reds more red, the blues more blue, and the sky itself no longer a shade of grey. I took off my cap of office, and looked at it.\n\nIt was black. I knew it was black before, but somehow, the black seemed more pronounced, more... Sinister. The insignia upon it, silver with gold ornamentation, depicting a magpie clutching a musical quaver in its beak, seemed less noble somehow. And then, looking around at the alley, I saw a crowd of people gather at each end, staring at me and my compatriots.\n\nI heard a child utter, \"wow, your hair's stood up!\"\n\nLooking in a dark window, I saw my reflection, wide-eyed, soot-blackened and hair most certainly standing up.\n\nI smiled.\n\nI laughed.\n", "They trampled the dandelion last week. Of all the grays and browns we had in this world, that one jolt of color had made us feel a little better, a little more like we weren't existing but living. For a few days we gathered around it, in awe of its beauty. We took turns running our fingers over the bright yellow teeth, which were unexpectedly soft. We held the leaves between our fingers, a hushed reverence coming from the lucky kid. It filled our time for days, until one morning we ran out to the alley and it was dead.\n\nWe were stunned. Kelly began to cry almost immediately. Gus balled his hands, ringing them tightly so his knuckles cracked. The rest of us just dealt with it silently. Me? I held on to that picture in my mind as best I could, but a week later it's starting to fade and I miss that sunshine we had for a brief time.\n\n\"We should play,\" Gus said. We all looked at him. He knew and we knew that it was forbidden. We could get into serious trouble, capital T trouble, if we were caught. They'd call our parents, we'd have to go to mandatory labor. But I knew what he was trying to do. He just wanted to bring back some of that joy we'd had.\n\n\"What could we play?\" I asked. There was almost nothing in sight. A few pebbles, a crack in the pavement, bricks that made the buildings on either side of the alley. \n\n\"How about stickball?\" he said, grinning.\n\n\"You needs sticks and balls, dummy,\" Hector said. \"We don't have either.\"\n\nGus started throwing an invisible ball in the air, catching it and tossing it over and over. \"I don't know. I have a ball and a stick right here and I'm going to get a home run.\" He threw his imaginary ball up, then swung wide. \"Crack! Oh, it's so far! No one will ever catch it now! You'll have to run for days to get it back.\"\n\nHector threw his ball up and swung. \"Oh, no! I hit Gus in the face!\"\n\n\"Nope! I caught it before you could hit me.\" He lobbed the ball back at Hector. \"I tagged out out!\"\n\n\"That's not how it works!\" Hector argued. \"You have to touch the person at the base.\"\n\nAfter they fought for a few minutes, the bases were determined. Teams were picked with Casey being the umpire, since she made a seventh. I thought she might not like being left out, but she loved having the power over whether the invisible balls were hit or not.\n\nIn fact, she loved yelling so much I was worried for a little bit. Then we all got louder and louder until two black police vehicles blocked the alley. We had no idea what to do, so we stood there, the fear gluing our feet to the asphalt below us.\n\nWhen they asked me why we had played when we knew it was against the law, I whispered, \"I just wanted my dandelion back.\"", "All units in the area of Pecos and Manchester, 611 in progress, Code 2. Message repeats: all units in the area of Pecos and Manchester, 611 in progress, Code 2. KMA-411\n\nDetective Sergeant Patrick Dillin leaned out the window of the cruiser and checked the address. He was sitting on Manchester and Fifth waiting for his partner to finish buying a hotdog. He looked across the street and shouted, “Hey, Mary, hurry up! We got a call.”\n\nMary turned and looked at Patrick across the street and nodded. She handed the vendor a five, waved off the change, and rushed over to the cruiser. Throwing open the door, she hopped in. “You call it in yet?”\n\nPatrick shook his head as he started the car, “Not yet.”\n\nMary nodded her head and grabbed the radio, “Unit 3-L-22 responding, currently on Manchester and Fifth. KMA-411.”\n\nUnit 3-L-22 responding, KMA-411\n\nMary leaned back in her seat and took a bite of her hotdog. She chewed for a moment before saying through a mouthful of food, “So what do we have?”\n\nPatrick frowned, “611 in progress. Probably some kids joy-popping in one of the alleys back there.” He turned quickly onto Manchester and started heading in the direction of Pecos. As he drove, he tried to come up with all the ways that a 611 could have been called in. His best guess was that someone had heard laughing in an alley and had called 911.\n\nMary was apparently thinking along similar lines, because after she finished her hotdog and tossed the wrapper into the floorboards she muttered, “Who the hell tries Fun on a Tuesday afternoon?” She looked out the window and frowned, “Where are they even getting the stuff?”\n\nPatrick shrugged, “Probably just some kids,” he said, voicing his theory. “My guess is they found a new supplier.”\n\nMary looked at Patrick, the concern etched across her face. “Already?” She sighed heavily and flipped the lights for a moment as Patrick blasted through a red-light on their way towards the call. “The Clown’s not even in prison for a week and they’re already getting the stuff again.”\n\nPatrick smiled darkly, “Nature abhors a vacuum.” He turned the car onto Pecos and parked. He nodded at Mary, and they both leapt out of the car and started running towards the alleyway. While not a common spot, they’d picked up a few people in the area before trying Fun, and could guess on where they would be hiding. Patrick motioned that he was going to head down the alley, and Mary motioned that she would wait on anyone who managed to sneak past him.\n\nPatrick eased down the alley, confident that his backup was just a few yards behind him. He struggled to keep from pinching his nose as he weaved through the trashcans and the piles of refuse that lay strewn about. In the old days, he would have expected to stumble across the occasional heroin addict or two, but even that old drug paled in comparison to Fun.\n\nFun had showed up on the market about five years ago. The government had passed Regulation #44-368 which outlawed any sort of entertainment that would lead to a feeling of happiness, joviality, or general well-being. Basically, the government had outlawed Fun. It was required of all individuals at that point to go see their closest neurosurgeon to hinder the area of the brain that produced dopamine in sufficient enough quantities to allow for having fun. Without dopamine, things that people enjoyed became more gray and lifeless, and so there was no need to go out on Friday nights.\n\nWith fun outlawed, the government was then easily able to pass Regulation #44-369, the Extended Work Week Bill. Basically, since fun was no longer possible, we might as well do something with our spare time. The work week was extended to 60 hours a week in order to combat the increasingly productive nature of China and other overseas competitors. The United States had skyrocketed in productivity and the waning powerhouse and stepped back into the ring for one final hurrah.\n\nHowever, with all governmental regulations, there were rule-breakers. These rule-breakers created a drug called Fun. It was basically a dopamine shot that one took straight into the lacrimal caruncle; a needle to the eye. This let the dopamine go straight to the brain, and suddenly things could be funny. Jokes were a common side-effect, as well as a dare-devil nature and the inability to discern the gravity of a situation. Shoot-outs were not uncommon for a police officer who was responding to a 611, or a Reported Use of Fun. Patrick felt like he was taking a huge risk, but he knew other units would be arriving shortly.\n\nAs he rounded a corner, he saw three individuals sitting around a small, old fashioned television set. On the ground in front of them he recognized the GameCube gaming system; contraband. All three of them were busy playing something on the GameCube, and he even heard the occasional laugh wafting up through the group. He eased his way into a defensible position and drew his gun.\n\n“Police, everyone on the ground now!”\n\nThe three individuals turned around quickly, showing all three of them to be white males, approximately 18 to 25 years in age. All three of them immediately leapt up and began running down the alley in the opposite direction of Patrick.\n\nPatrick thumbed the radio on his vest and shouted, “Mary, they’re heading out the other way. Meet me around the corner.” He then returned his attention to the fleeing suspects and shouted, “On the ground now, or I start shooting!”\n\nThe suspects continued to run and Patrick swore softly. He hated this part of the job. He gently eased his pistol up, drew a bead on one of the suspects, and fired twice. The man threw up his arms and went down to the ground. Patrick rushed over towards him, checked for a pulse, and after not finding one, rushed off after the two remaining suspects.\n\nAs he came around a corner he was just in time to see Mary stick out her arm and clothesline one of the remaining suspects to the ground. She squatted over him and began tying his hands.\n\nPatrick looked down at her and quickly said, “One dead in the alley. I’m going after this one.” Mary nodded and Patrick rushed off.\n\nThe suspect was trying his best to weave through pedestrians in order to throw off Patrick, and to some extent it was working. Patrick was having trouble keeping up, but he knew that in a few minutes more cruisers would be arriving in order to help out. Mary had, by now, called in the incident and informed headquarters the direction he and the suspect were running, and the incident that had transpired.\n\nSuddenly, the remaining suspect ducked into another alley, causing Patrick to swear loudly. When he finally caught up, he rushed into the alley only to be greeted with a dead end. The only feature was a door on the wall, so he reached over and tried the handle; locked. He walked back out and looked at the building. It was a large apartment complex, about 25 stories tall. Either the suspect lived there, or he had friends there. Either way, he was gone.\n\nHolstering his gun, he kicked a piece of trash in defeat and made his way back over to Mary. When he got there he saw Officers Lee and Roy already on the scene questioning the suspect. Mary had a concerned look on her face, and as he got closer he saw why.\n\nThe suspect they had in custody was none other than Senator Brooks’ son, and he was laughing. Fortunately the other kid appeared to be some low-life nobody; probably got hooked on Fun years ago. As Patrick drew closer he could make out what the Brooks kid was saying.\n\n“You’ll never, ha-ha, you’ll never find him. He’s, he-he-he, he’s too smart for you. And I, ha-ha, I’m too important for you to touch. Wait till my father hears about this treatment,” and then he broke down into hysterical laughter.\n\nMary saw Patrick and walked over to him. “He’s flying pretty high; my guess is he’s a regular user. It looks like he has some extensive track marks around his eyes.” She looked back over at Brooks and slowly shook her head. “He is right, you know, he’s going to be nearly impossible to prosecute.”\n\nPatrick shrugged, “Did you call in an ambulance?”\n\n“Roy did when right when he and Lee got here. Should be here in five minutes,” Mary said.\n\n“We’ll have them give him an F-Test immediately. He’ll test positive, and we’ll be off the hook.” He smiled, “All we’ll have to do is show up. Maybe he’ll turn State’s Witness against this new guy.”\n\n“Did you get a good look at him,” Mary asked as Lee and Roy seemed to have finally gotten the Brooks kid to stop laughing.\n\n“White male, about maybe 25, had some small scars on his cheeks.” Patrick scratched his chin and tried to remember the brief glance he had gotten of the other suspect. “Pale complexion, dark hair, maybe 5’11”.”\n\nBrooks, who had been eyeing Patrick while he described the suspect, suddenly started laughing again. “You’ll never catch him! He’s the Funny man!” He broke down into hysterical laughter again, “The Joker tells the best jokes!”\n\nMary looked at Patrick, who nodded, “Yup, just as we thought. A new dealer is in town.”\n\n-------\n\n[r/grenadiere42](http://www.reddit.com/r/grenadiere42)", "You ask me how all this begun, I'd tell you all about Eve's smile. Tell you about how her teeth were cloud white \nand her lips red and how it felt like the universe itself was acknowledging you when she threw one your way. That \nsmile's what got me where I am today.\n\nI first saw it when I was eight, back in the overgrown grass lot behind the soap factory in District 7, close to where the kids stayed during recess, just sitting around. Eve called me.\n\n\"Rust, come over here\", she said, I remember. I was seven years old all alone on a corner, contemplating the fact \nthat the concept of a single unified ego that defines us is an illusion crafted by our senses. \"Quick!\"\n\nI got up and dragged my feet towards her, and she pulled my hand and took me to the back of the factory.\n\n\"What, Eve?\" I asked, in a tired voice. \"I was trying to deal with the fact that human consciousness is an \nunfortunate side effect of evolution that causes us pain beyond belief. You interrupted me.\"\n\nThat was all we did all day. Still all kids do all day, in the Districts, where fun is rare. Contemplate, think, go on \nabout the shitty things in life. Without fun you can't help but see things for what they are. It can hurt, sometimes. But you get used to it.\n\n\"Check this out\", she said, and then she did something I had only ever seen in the Ads in the Sky. She opened her \nlips in a crazy beautiful smile, and I almost gasped.\n\n\"Where did you get it?\" I hushed, looking around to see if no one was watching.\n\n\"A friend of my mom\", Eve said. \"She gave me some to play around today.\"\n\nSoon as it appeared it was gone, the smile. Eve went back to normal-face like me. \"That's it?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yeah\", she replied. \"That's all there was left. I saved it to show you.\" She sighed. \"All right, now I'm going to deal with the fact that, in a world that contains suffering, an all mighty and benevolent God is a paradox, and therefore cannot exist.\"\n\nAnd from that day on I made it my life's mission to get that smile back into my life through means of her face. I was going to put that smile there so she could put it back in my line of sight -- in my life. So things made sense again.\n\nThe things I did I'm not proud of. Not ashamed, but not proud. If there was another way I'd do it, but there \nwasn't. If I wanted my life filled with smiles the way the girls in the ads smile – if I wanted Eve to smile for me \nagain – I'd have to do what I did. \n\nWorking my way up the Fun Police was easy. I came from District 7, which is the worst district. Knew all the bad \nplaces where people went for the fake stuff -- dealers, parties. Three in the morning in 7 I knew the streets you'd \nwalk around and hear echoing laughter coming from the buildings, and you'd know some wrongdoing was going on. \nI'd go undercover. Narcotics, busting parties full of teenaged no-goods laughing, watching TV, playing games, \nlistening to music. Saving it all on containers to sell later. Manufacturing illegal fun. I'd take it all with me to the \nstation, leave behind a trail of melancholic existentialist gangsters, broke and angry both at me and the barren universe. Screaming 'fuck the police and this perpetual state of uncertainty of the rational man' as I drove away.\n\nThe pay was not good, though. My salary would be enough for maybe a full week of us having fun -- and that's when we didn't have the kids. After a while I stopped taking the fun altogether, to leave more for Eve. It was hard, for a while there.\n\nBut I'll tell you, that first week... That fifth of every month when I'd get home and she'd shoot me that smile I was \ncraving for days, it was heaven. Even I not having any of the fun, I'd just stare heavy-eyed at her and somewhere inside I'd feel ok. Not fun, no. Not happy. But ok. \n\nI'd feel peace, watching her smile.\n\nBut that is in the past. Now we have fun every day all day all the time. Fun to last the rest of our lives. It was a victimless crime, if you think about. What I did was every night I'd take it with me, instead of leaving it at the evidence room – the illegal fun. Take it to Eve. Started doing it in '27. At the time we had our first one on the way.\n\nNow I get home every day to Eve's smile and I wake up to my kid's laughter all the time, all the time. We have \nbreakfast and lunch and dinner smiling and talking, and I get to watch little Eric playing videogames and little \nAnna playing with dolls with smiles on their faces. I get to talk to my wife about love and poetry and the weather, \ninstead of the fact that reality is just a series of electrical impulses firing up inside a locked room that is my head.\n\nNow I don't think about the fact that death renders everything we do meaningless, and that there's really no point in doing things at all. I don't think about how, in hindsight, we might as well all be dead already, and that the only reason we even bother to wake up in the morning is our biological impulses we can't control. I don't even stop to consider the fact that free will might be an illusion, because we're all made of parts made of cells made of atoms made of electrons made of physical laws. That maybe the big bang was the only real thing that ever happened, and all the rest is just consequence.\n\nI don't think about any of that, and neither does Eve and my kids. We have fun, now. Fun is all we have. Fun keeps the wolf from the door.\n\nWell... Sure, it's manufactured in basements somewhere in the 7. Not the real deal. Not real fun. Fake fun.\n\nStill.\n\n=).\n\n____________________\n\nThanks for reading! For more stories check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)\n" ]	12
	[WP]40 Years have passed since Prof. Steven Hawking transferred his brain into a device which allowed him to control a massive army of robots and seize control of the Earth. There is one tribe of humans left, and you are their leader.	[ "\"Maybe if we go around them\" i started, but was almost directly interupted by my second in command, Kyle. \n\n\"No, that passage is blocked, to many of them there. And the eastern base fell yesterday, they manged to infiltrate it.\"\n\n\"Damn\" i exclaimed. We needed every man, to prepare for the final assult. I was not sure when it would happen this time, but i knew what would follow. \n\n\"We need every man we can get\" i continued. \"I needed those men for my assult. I cant pull too many men from the assult on the mainframe.\" It was planned to happen in 45 days, thats when it was supposed to happen. But the war had not gone as i thought it would, so i wasnt sure that it would. \n\n\"I still dont understand why you need to put troops aside for a assult on such a small base, especially during such a critial time\" Kyle said again. \"Whats so special about that place? It cant be backup mainframe, that base is way to small for that!\"\n\n\"No its not\" i awnsered him.\"Its a special weapon, their last trumphcard.\"\n\n\"So, whats is it?!\" I looked at him. \"..Sir\" he added.\n\n\"I dont know\" i lied \"But I know that we need to take it out, and we wont be able to do that untill his mainframe falls.\"\n\nKyle seemed satisfied with that awnser, and we went back to trying to figure out where to get some new troops from. Maybe from that workcamp to the west, or try to reestablish contact with the coast. Suddenly, our discussion was interupted by shouting from the corridor. Someone was shouting after me. \n\n\"Sir!\" A panic officer opened the door. \"Sir! Connor! The scout returned, that base you asked us to keep tabs on just powered up.\" \n\nOh no. Its too soon. Our plans had to be accilirated. Kyle looked at me, with a hint of panic in his eyes. \n\n\"John. The superweapon\" he said, looking at me, just reinforcing the terror we all already felt.\n\nOh Kyle, how i will miss you\n", "Somehow I, of all people, became the leader of the last group of humans left on earth. I have no special skills. I'm a fucking clumsy piece of shit. I'm not leader material. \n\nJason should be the goddamn leader! He's athletic, smart, and even has that look to him. You know, the guy that stands real tall with his back straight and looks right at you when speaking. He was created for the goddamn part.\n\nBut apparently it was because I'm the most useless fuck here that I've been designated leader. Apparently I'm \"safe\". They went on and on about how there's no way that I'm a cyborg or some \"terminator\". Oh boy, how wrong they are.\n\nHawking had a similar mindset when he sent Jason and I into the group. He thought sending Jason alone would be too suspicious, after-all, he was too perfect. So he created the most human-like piece of shit he could to send in with him. Me.\n\nHawking only saw me as a ticket for Jason to get into the group with less suspicion. The thought of me becoming the leader didn't even cross his mind. No wonder he created a robot army to take over the world. Humans are fucking idiots.\n\nI guess leadership here isn't too bad... The humans are stupid but bearable. Better than the robots back at the Core who think of me as some malfunctioning piece of machinery. I think I'll have Jason executed tomorrow. They already suspect him and even if he brings my name up during the trial, there's no way they would think of me as a robot. \n\nI guess it's nice being imperfect.\n\n\n" ]	2
It can be whatever empire you like, made up or real.	[WP] You have just inherited your kingdom's throne, however due to a technicality you must share it with your annoying little sister/brother.	[ "The histrionic brat cannot be silent even as the court's priests offers the sacraments that places them as rulers of their father's kingdom. Twins only in looks, Arno always disliked his brother for his vanity and loudness. To avoid being confused by him, he had taken a knife to his face at age 7. Now, they could not be confused but they had the same title and responsibility. Arno could not stand his brother so he had chosen a less painful route.\n\nThe sacrament ended, the priest gave the twins each a sip of the holy wine so they may live long and their reign be just. Arno takes a sip and slants his eyes to his brother, expecting the effect of the poison to reveal itself at any moment. His eyes get blurry and he blinks to clear them, but his eyesight doesn't improve. Instead, it only reveals his brother's smile. As Arno falls to the ground, his ears carry his brother's last message: \"I win.\"", "He was late again.\n\nHe was always late.\n\nStanley was seated in the conference room surrounded by a dozen of the most prestigious and impressive people in the kingdom. These people would make or break his reign. They had wealth, they had power, and they had armies to back it up. Any one of them could decide at any moment that they were sick of this nonsense and rise up to try to take the crown for themselves. It would only take one missed step, one insult too far, one irritation too many.\n\nReynold seemed more than happy to give it to them.\n\nWas it really too much to ask of his energetic brother to show up on time for one meeting a week? Stanley cleared his throat. “Just a bit longer and we’ll begin, I’m terribly sorry for the delay.”\n\nWhere had he gone wrong? Why had their brother not trusted Stanley to rule the kingdom on his own? He’d always done everything that had been asked of him and more. Yet after his brother’s unexpected death, the vault had been searched and his will had been made plain.\n\nI, King Rodney of the house Bartlett, first of his name, king of the handles, the crowbars, and the second folks, lord of the sebum kingdom and protector of the film, do name both my brothers Stanley and Reynold as my heirs, to rule the kingdoms together, side-by-side. It is my wish that they should together maintain the king’s piece of pie and uphold the king’s bust lice. I charge both my brothers with the protection of the weak and innocent upon my death. This is my decree in the sight of whomever is looking in my general direction.\n\nStanley had tried to fight the decree on the grounds that his brother was clearly touched in the head. Bust lice indeed. It had been ruled that King Rodney was just having a bit of fun with the wording and that his intent had been clear.\n\nStanley did not have time for fun with wording. He had a kingdom to run, and his idiot brother didn’t seem to care.\n\nA loud noise could be heard from down the hall. For a moment, Stanley thought he’d ground his teeth so hard that it had echoed throughout the entire castle, but no. He couldn’t be so lucky.\n\nReynold burst into the room red-faced and grinning, his hair windswept. He was riding on a Segway.\n\n“Hey guyyyyyyys,” Reynold cried out. He drove his absurd little wheeled cart in circles a few times before heading toward his customary seat.\n\n“Do a barrel roll!” shouted one of the lords.\n\nReynold was happy to oblige. He tumbled from his ridiculous vehicle, rolled across the floor and popped back up with a grin, his arms spread open and reaching upward. “Ta-da!”\n\nThis time, the grinding noise Stanley heard really was his teeth.\n\nThe meeting was delayed for several more minutes while Reynold fussed with his clothing. “I’ll need to have a serious talk with my dry cleaner,” he announced. \n\nThe most frustrating thing of all was the way they hung onto his every word. Stanley could be talking about the downfall of the world while Reynold chattered about an unusual nose hair he’d found, and the entire kingdom would fawn over themselves to give him the best pair of nose clippers money could buy.\n\nStanley cleared his throat again. “It’s time we were getting down to business,” he called.\n\n“Yes, business!” Reynold agreed, finally taking his seat. “Who wants ice cream?”\n\nIce cream? What in the actual hell was his brother on about now?\n\nDing-ding! Ding-ding! Stanley could hear the faint sounds of an ice cream truck in the distance.\n\n“I spoke to the man who drives the route nearby,” Reynold explained proudly. “He was most agreeable to changing his route to drive right past here during our little gatherings.”\n\n“Meetings!” Stanley bellowed. “Serious discussions about the future of the kingdom we rule! Is it too much to ask for you to show up on time, by the way?”\n\nAll eyes were on Stanley for once, and he found he didn’t know what to do once he had their attention. He squirmed slightly. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have some ice cream while we have those discussions,” he allowed.\n\nNo sooner were the words out of his mouth than all of his esteemed council was on their feet, racing down the hallway trying to get to the ice cream truck first. Reynold was hot on their heels, having re-mounted his Segway. “Last one there is a rotten egg!” he called.\n\n“They’ll be back,” Stanley muttered stiffly.", "It was a cold, rainy day when King Leon VIII had collapsed of stroke upon his stony throne.\n\nThe physicians who had rushed him to the capital clinic reported that the man had died mere hours after he was set down for operation. It was news that the Queen did not take too lightly.\n\nFor you see, the Queen was still in her late stages of pregnancy. This was to be the eighth child that King Leon would sire, by law, the heir to the throne.\n\nThankfully, this peaceful era marked the rise of a number of strong and able-minded advisers who'd be of welcome help to the young monarch. Though Leon may have perished long before he would see his heir rise to become the strongest ruler that the Kingdom of Eightletter would ever see, it was safe to say that his memory was indeed honored.\n\nOf course, as stories and fairy tales will tell you again, and again, and again...\n\nTragedy begets tragedy.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"My lady! It's a boy! It's a beautiful baby boy!\"\n\n\"Looks kinda fat, don't he?\"\n\n\"Your highness! A fat baby promises long-life and prosper for the future! Why, this is wonderful news for the people- Wait, hold on... What in the blazes?\"\n\n\"Yes, High Physician. What in the blazes are you staring at?\"\n\n\"It's just ermm... your belly still looks a little big.\"\n\n\"Well of course it is, you dolt! I've just spent the last eight years giving birth-after-birth!\"\n\n\"No, I mean. There's something still kicking in your belly.\"\n\n\"... What?\"\n\n\"Hold on, let me just get this... whatever it is... out...\"\n\n\"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! GET YOUR DAMN HAND OUT OF THEIR YOU FILTHY PEASANT TRASH! I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF AND FEED THEM TO THE GOATS! AND THEN I'LL FEED THE GOATS TO THE DOGS! AND THEN I'LL-\"\n\n\"You have a daughter, your highness. You delivered birth to twins.\"\n\n\"... You're shitting me, right?\"\n\n\"Lookie. She has no penis-\"\n\n\"Ah-bah-bah-bah! Don't show that shit to me! Damn... Call the High Constable up. He needs to know about this... For fuck's sake...\"\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThe High Constable, who was busy engaging in a roundabout game of hanky-panky with the local brothel workers, had no time to pull up his pants when the Queen had called for him and Leon's will.\n\nPredictably, the Queen was stricken with nasty shock when the Constable came in, floundering about his manhood, with a long roll of inked paper in hand.\n\n\"Your majesty, I've heard you've given birth to a son- WHY THE HELL ARE THERE TWO SONS?!\"\n\n\"I don't know!\" the Queen began sobbing as the pain of delivery finally settled in on her belly, \"I don't fucking know why! She just popped out!\"\n\n\"She?!\" asked the High Constable as he picked up the two babies in his arms. \n\nHe picked at the towels to look down and inspect the children.\n\n\"Shit! What the hell are we supposed to do about this?! Leon's will said nothing about what to do with twins!\"\n\nThe Queen grabbed a hold of the parchment and blew her nose right into her dead husband's will.\n\n\"Well, let's just read it...\"\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nBy the order of myself, King Leon VIII of House Eahta, I do beseech to the reader that my will not go out to public. For you see, below you from sections two through five, I present to you the true story of my terrible, terrible childhood under the \"Kind\" King Marco VIII...\n\n\"Boring,\" moaned the Queen as she skipped through the annoying subplot to get to the bit about inheritance ruling.\n\n... And that was when I realized that I only ever loved her, my darling childhood friend... Anyway, onto inheritance. Yadda yadda. Thou that hast been borne after my seventh son shall be known as the ruling ruler for as long as their lifespan will cover. So sayeth the king.\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThe High Constable rubbed his eyes.\n\n\"That was awful short and vague for something as serious as deciding who rules after your death.\"\n\n\"Geez, did he really not have any specifics for boy or girl? Or even number of children?\"\n\n\"No, doesn't seem like he did.\"\n\n\"Well, now what, High Constable?\" the Queen grabbed the towel of her son's body and proceeded to wipe her sweat off with the rag, \"Should we just let them... co-rule? That'd seem best, yes?\"\n\n\"I'd be a lot more concerned with why the hell they aren't crying right now.\"\n\nThe Queen rose out of her bed with trembling legs to see the faces of her two children, cradled upon the man's shoulders. Her two darling kin, the last she'd ever have to bear.\n\nWhat she saw that night was of great disturbance to her, amusement to the Constable, and courtly gossip for the rest of the noblemen of Castle Goldberg.\n\nWhat she saw, behind the Constable's back, were her two children.\n\nHer two children, trying to strangle each other with their cut-off umbilical cords.\n\n...\n\nThis would be a long and prosperous reign indeed, thought the Queen as she swooned and fainted right before the pants-lacking High Constable.", "\"It's my turn to rule, you're hogging it!\" Annabel shouted, stomping her feet. \n\nTimothy sighed, tiredly scolding his younger sister. She hardly batted an eye when Father passed, and was delighted to be informed that due to a technicality in the transcripts the heir to throne was not just the Kings first born son, but first born son and daughter. Everyone generally agrees that Timothy is king, however Annabel technically also has absolute rule. \"You can't just...hog rule.\" Timothy tried to explain. \n\n\"But you go to all the council meetings, you are making all the rules!\" Annabel continued to shout. She had the piercing, powerful voice of a spoiled thirteen year old girl who never bothered to learn the ins and outs of the Kingdom. Now that she had control of it, she didn't see much need to try. It was all a game to her, despite Timothy's attempts to educate her. \n\n\"You don't like the council meetings! Last time you went you were begging it to be done with.\" Timothy stated, trying not to raise his voice. Attempting to compete in the shouting match only ever escalated his sister into an even more feverish tantrum. \"You nearly had the Kingdom's Treasurer executed.\" \n\nAnnabel rolled her eyes, her coils of golden hair bouncing as she tossed her head to the side, \"well he would just go on, and on about bags of grain. And chickens, and blah, blah, blah.\" with her hand she feigned a mouth blabbering. \n\n\"Those are important things to manage. That's what leaders do. If we do not then our people starve.\" Timothy argued. \n\n\"So?\" \n\n\"So...What do you mean so?\" Timothy's eye twitched, he was losing his temper. \"If there are no people then we have no kingdom.\" \n\n\"Don't talk at me like that.\" Annabel hissed, stomping her foot. \n\n\"Like what?\" Timothy asked. \n\n\"Like I'm an idiot. I know what a Kingdom is.\" \n\n\"Well you are an idiot!\" Timothy shouted. He regretted it as soon as he did it. There were only one of two ways this would play out. One, she would go off in a rage, likely equating to the end of some jesters poor life. Or two. Annabel's eyes widened, her lip trembled, and she started to cry. Timothy dropped his face into his hands. She always did this, especially when Father was still alive. Father could not help but appease Annabel with whatever she wanted when she bawled her eyes out like this. \n\n\"Fine! Fine what do you want?!\" Timothy questioned over the loud sobs. \n\nAnnabel sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand, \"I want to rule.\" \n\n\"Rule. Fine, rule what? I try to take you to meetings and you either complain, or request ridiculous or impossible things.\" \n\n\"Like what?\" She asked. \n\n\"Like...Like wanting to go to war with the Nelgerians over their sheep herds.\" Timothy said, planting his index finger into his palm. \n\n\"So?\" \n\n\"The Nelgerians don't even have an army.\" \n\n\"Well then it would have been an easy war.\" Annabel proclaimed, folding her arms over her chest. \"And then we'd have free sheep.\" \n\n\"Sure, but no one to tend the sheep, and another hundred thousand people to control against their will. Don't you understand that we benefit mutually from our arrangement?\" \n\nAnnabel scoffed and muttered under her breath. \n\nTimothy pinched the bridge of his nose, \"Tell you what. You can rule...You can rule the castle. Order all the workers around, manage the gardens and what not.\" \n\n\"I can?\" She asked hopefully, her eyes twinkling. \n\n\"Sure. Why not. Just don't execute anyone. Not unless they break the law.\" \n\n\"Disobeying me is against the law.\" She said. \n\n\"Annabel I mean it.\" \n\n\"Fine! Fine!\" Annabel sighed, throwing her hands in the air. \n\nLater that week Timothy had gone and returned from an important political adventure\n\nTimothy led his horse into the gates, the smell of pastry wafting pleasantly into his nostrils. The tapestry had all been replaced with vibrant pinks and purples, his eyes widened as they fell on one of the stable masters shuffling towards him in a dirty white dress. \n\n\"My lord.\" The man said meekly as he took the reigns from Timothy. \n\n\"Benjamen, what on earth are you wearing?\" Timothy asked. \n\n\"It-It is required by the Queen.\" Benjamen spoke softly, nearly a whisper. \n\nTimothy stormed off towards the great hall. When he entered he found the feast table covered with rich, and sometimes lavish cakes. His mind spun at the cost, in grain alone- he shook his head. All of the family colors had been replaced, so many tapestries, so much linen and cloth. \"Annabel?\" He shouted. \n\n\"Yes brother?\" He heard her voice echo into the hall. She soon followed it. \n\nTimothy scoffed, she wore a new and expensive looking dress. \"What have you done with the castle?\" \n\n\"Uh, I improved it. You know, ruling it.\" She said matter-of-factually. \n\nTimothy pointed towards the cakes, \"There's a winters worth of grain, and gold, sitting on the great table decaying and untouched. Why hasn't this been cleaned? Or at least handed out so that it does not go to waste!\" \n\n\"Give people my cake?\" She asked. \n\n~ ~ ~ ~\n\nLunch break, not sure where to go with it. " ]	4
	[WP] After millennia of dealing with her husband's philandering, Hera has finally had it. The queen of the Greek gods has filed for divorce from Zeus.	[ "Divorce on Olympus was no simple thing.\n\nDispite a plethera of evidence that their marrage was wall past its best-buy date, the Olympic divorce commite was not please to be presented with another case. Because, you see -imortality had its downsides. One of those was that no relationship, no matter how harmonious could last forever. There seemed to be an experation date on even the best of them.\n\nThe heated case of Hades vs. Personephe was still frsh in the minds of the Olympians, despite the fact that it was several centuries old, and in Hera's opinion, very stale. After much debate there had been an unanimous ruling in favor of Personephe stating that Hades should perform 4 labors for damages in order to repay the years he had kept his newly ex-wife trapped in the underworld.\n\nWhile there was much she held against Zues, she did not want theirs' to be a heated case. But in all likely hood and in the inevitable way of things, it would scrounge up some things better left unremembered. Namely a long list of all the mortals Zeus had slept with. That would be an awkward converstion if she'd ever had one. \n\nWorst case senerio the Olympic Divorce Commite would somehow find that it was her fault. Then she would have to perform some set number of labors (all court justice was careied out in labors on Olympus) and then it would be over with. She would be free of the man she had been tied to for so long.\n\n\"Breath,\" Athena, godess of wisdom and patron of lawers, also her atorney, remended her for the umpteenth time.\n\n\"If I couldn't breath, Immortality wouldn't do me much good and I wouldn't be here in this mess in the first place,\" Hera rolled her sleaves up to her arms, pushed open the doors to the courtroom, and proceeded to her seat.", "Dikaiosyne, the goddess of justice and the judge of the Olympian Court, banged her gavel on the marble counter before her. The strike rang out across the arrayed ranks of deities, gods and goddesses, and lesser spirits seated on the long benches at the rear of the courtroom, instantly quietening their chattering.\n\n'The court is now in session,' said Dikaiosyne. 'Let the relevant parties stand, please.'\n\nBehind one of the two low tables between her podium and the crowd, a tall goddess got gracefully to her feet, her dress rippling like water around her. She wore a sparkling diadem on her regal brow. A long staff with a lotus flower of gold and silver leant against the table. She nodded to Dikaiosyne respectfully.\n\nThe judge transferred her gaze to the other table. A muscular, bearded god had just tried to get to his feet too quickly and apparently banged his knee on the table's edge. As she watched, he angrily pointed a finger at the table. A bolt of lightning flickered from the tip of his finger to the table, splitting it in two with a loud thunderclap.\n\nBreathing heavily, he looked up at Dikaiosyne and inclined his head. She gestured for both of them to sit once more, the god somehow half-missing his chair in the process and nearly falling to the floor. His sceptre rolled across the floor with a tinkling noise. He made to get up and fetch it, but Dikaiosyne held up a slender hand.\n\n'Leave it there, Lord Zeus,' she said. Her words were soft, but there was a hint of steel behind them. This was her realm, and if gods did not respect boundaries, there was going to be trouble. He paused, glancing at the Titan guards in the corners of the room, then sat down again.\n\nDikaiosyne looked back to the goddess, who hadn't reacted in any way to the display. At least one of them had some sense of decorum, she thought.\n\n'Lady Hera,' she said. 'I understand you wish to file for divorce from your husband Zeus on the grounds of fathering—' she paused to look at the list in front of her, which was several pages long, '— multiple children by other goddesses than yourself. Is this correct?'\n\n'Yes, your honour,' said Hera, barely glancing at her husband. 'That is correct.'\n\n'Very well,' said Dikaiosyne. 'Lord Zeus, do you have any reason as to why this divorce should or should not go ahead?'\n\nZeus looked to his lawyer, the spirit Nomos, who had, for reasons best known to it alone, manifested as a thick leatherbound book of laws that rested open on the table. It flipped through a couple of pages in response to Dikaiosyne's question. Zeus stood and glanced down at the book.\n\n'Your honour, I would like to open by drawing your attention to statute 5063 of the Olympian Book of Laws,' he said, running his gaze across the page in front of him.\n\nDikaiosyne raised an elegantly manifested eyebrow. '\"Thou shalt not send plagues of two-headed goats to the lands of mortal men without good cause\"?'\n\nZeus frowned and looked back down at his lawyer. 'Wrong page!' he hissed. Nomos reacted to this by slamming shut and refusing to open again, despite Zeus' efforts to do so by using a hastily conjured lightning bolt as a crowbar against the pages. The stalemate was quickly resolved by Zeus hurling the errant lawyer through a handy window (which hadn't been there a moment before, but Dionysus, the god of theatre, who was sitting in the crowd, had conjured one to provide a suitably entertaining highlight to the proceedings).\n\nDikaiosyne sighed and turned back to Hera. 'Lady Hera, would you mind telling the court why you feel this divorce should go ahead?'\n\n'Certainly, your honour,' said Hera, her voice like clearest crystal in the silence. 'It began with the polygamy; I could have handled that, but he has been gallivanting with every goddess and mortal woman that he fancies for millennia! Many of you here today are his offspring by one love or another. It is demeaning.'\n\n'Thank you, Lady Hera,' said Dikaiosyne. She raised her voice. 'Since neither party has provided any reason that this divorce should not go ahead, I hereby declare that Lady Hera and Lord Zeus shall no longer be husband and wife. By the laws of marriage, all they own shall be divided equally between them.'\n\n'Just a minute!' shouted Zeus, and the rising hubbub quietened. He stepped out from behind the ruins of his table and picked up his sceptre. He looked around at the watching crowd, then to Hera, and finally to Dikaiosyne.\n\n'I didn't want to have to do this,' he said. 'but you leave me no choice. Lady Dikaiosyne, I would like to draw your attention to these carvings, made several centuries ago by a minor art deity during that ambrosia-fuelled party to celebrate Lord Apollo's millionth follower. They would appear to show a delightfully inebriated young goddess of justice and a handsome, muscular god of all other gods in bed together...'\n\nDikaiosyne had gone pale. 'Don't you dare,' she said in a barely audible whisper.\n\n'In accordance with our own laws, which I believe you know off by heart, Lady Dikaiosyne,' continued Zeus loudly. 'a justice deity such as yourself shall not break the laws of our realm under fear of utter destruction.'\n\n'No,' said Dikaiosyne, standing up. 'NO!'\n\nZeus brought his sceptre round, lightning bolts leaping from its head. There was a bright flash. When it faded, there was nothing left of the justice goddess, nor of most of the podium she had occupied either. Zeus turned to the crowd.\n\n'Anyone else want to try taking on our rules?' he said loudly. 'No? Good. Now leave.'\n\nHe looked to Hera. 'Look, I know I have angered you. Let us forget the past and focus on the future. Or more specifically, later tonight.' He smiled and winked at her.\n\nHera blushed despite herself. 'There's a reason you are leader of the gods,' she said, taking his hand. 'Although I'll be damned if I know how you've remained thus all this time.'\n\nZeus chuckled as they left the courtroom with the rest of the crowd.\n\n'Our politics are fickle, but I wrote our damn Laws,' he said. 'Why do you think I've gotten away with all this stuff? I'd be mad if I didn't leave a loophole or two.' \n\nHis laughter echoed throughout Olympus as they walked away." ]	2
	[WP] You are a tentacle monster that never made it in the porn industry. Today you're applying for a normal 9-5 job.	[ "Bernie looked at the resume and noticed the paper was perfectly dry, despite the fact the creature that handed it to him appeared to be extremely slimy. \n\nBernie cleared his throat and asked,\n\n\"So it says here your strengths are dealing with high-pressure environments, multi-tasking, group organizing, and raping fourteen year old schoolgirls?\" \n\nThe creature shook it's head, or what assumedly it had for a head. \n\n\"When you say high pressure and multi-tasking, is this in regards towards the position you're applying for as receptionist?\" \n\nThe creature reached out with it's tentacles and picked up several phone receivers in the room at the same time, deftly pressing stand by and hold on every one of them with remarkable speed. \n\n\"I see.. and just exactly how does raping fourteen year old schoolgirls come into it?\" \n\nThe tentacle monster paused for a moment, then it asked, \"This is the BBC entertainment bureau isn't it?\" \n\nBernie pursed his lips and shook his head, impressed with the answer. \n\n\"Very well,\" said Bernie as he stood to shake the tentacle monster's hand/tentacle, \"Welcome aboard.\" ", "His failure to make it in the porn industry was inevitable. Tentacles with an extremely long awkward length in comparison to his body, terrible chemistry with the other actors, humongous googly eyes that lured over everything, and he had the same voice as Danny DeVito. \n\n\"I just couldn't do it\" one porn actress tells me. \"I just didn't feel like I was being sexually touch by a real tentacle monster you know? It just felt like I was having sex with just a guy in an octopus costume.\" \n\nHis poor soul, I mean he grew up wanting to be in the porn industry. Both his father and his mother are undoubtedly legends when it comes to adult movies involving tentacle monsters. However he was just impervious to developing into a real star. Now he's just like the rest of us. Once you realize that your dreams are out of reach, you accept it and move on with your life. You may get married, get a regular job, have some little shits, lose in poker to your buddies up the street, and all those necessities of living an average life. \n\nToday is the day this particular tentacle monster accepts his reality, his destiny that he can no longer deny. He must get a job at Walmart to help maintain his bills, a job will keep him busy after all. He knows he will be judged when he walks in, he's an awkward 8 legged tentacle monster for fucks sake. 8 legged tentacle monsters don't belong in Walmart stocking selves or cashing in annoying peoples money into the greasy cashier, they belong in a dark foggy swamp fingering some helpless porn star who just happens to be wandering by. That's besides the point though, he tries not to think about these negative trances. He just asks to get the job. Ignoring the thought that despite his 8 long tentacles, his dreams lie far from his reach. ", "Bernie sighed, shuffling his papers. Odd clients came with the Pro Bono territory, but this...\n\n\"Er, did you want to hear my side of the story?\" gurgled his client, handcuffs rattling as his appendages wriggled on the table.\n\n\"Where the hell did cops even find a pair of cuffs like those?\" muttered Bernie under his breath.\n\n\"What was that?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\" Bernie cleared his throat, then pulled out a notepad and clicked his pen. \"Okay, Mister... uh, I'm sorry, how do you pronounce this?\"\n\n\"Mister B. is fine, but you can call me Steve.\"\n\n\"Right. Steve. Why don't we start from the top. You're an adult entertainer?\"\n\n\"Eh, not quite,\" said Steve, shaking what looked to be his head. \"I mean, I tried. I performed in a couple scenes, you know? But I never made it big- I mean, I never earned enough to cover my expenses, so I've been searching more normal job opportunities with a steadier income.\"\n\nBernie nodded, already aware of this part of the story. \"And that's why you were at Downtown Highschool?\"\n\n\"I saw that they were looking for a Gym Teacher.\" Steve shrugged. \"I know a thing or two about staying in shape. How hard can it be anyway? Just have the kids run a few laps, and that's that.\"\n\n\"So you'd think,\" said Bernie, scribbling down a note. \"Of course, it wasn't just that, was it?\"\n\nSteve gulped. \"Well, now that you mention it...\"\n\nBernie pulled a sheet from his stack, and placed it in front of Steve. \"Is this the part where you tell me this photo isn't what it looks like?\"\n\nSteve eyed the paper. On it was a still from a security camera of his tentacles manhandling a girl while tearing off her track outfit. \"This isn't what it looks like,\" Steve mumbled.\n\nBernie rolled his eyes. \"I'm sure. Why don't you tell me exactly what happened?\"\n\nSteve sighed. \"Okay. Here it goes. So I go in, say 'Hi' to the hiring staffer, give my pitch, you know how it goes.\"\n\nBernie nodded. \"Go on.\"\n\n\"So things were going good. Of course, my job history came up in the background check, but the interviewer said the budget was too tight for the school to be picky, so I was pretty much tapped if my casting- er, demonstration went well.\" Steve looked rather proud of himself, despite the situation. \n\nBernie cleared his throat loudly. He didn't have time for this. \"You were saying?\"\n\nSteve shook himself, his handcuffs jangling loudly. \"Oh, right. Uh, yeah, the demo. So the Interviewer had me come back in a couple days to teach a class some basic cardio. No big deal, literally just laps. Could not be easier.\" Steve slapped a tentacle on the table, and Bernie realized he was angry. \"You don't know just how stupid these kids can be,\" Steve growled.\n\nBernie sat a little straighter, and glanced quickly at the camera in the room's corner. Red light was still on.\n\n\"So the kids were running,\" Steve continued, \"when the janitor started mopping. Unbelievable, you'd think he'd take a hint that now wasn't a good time, but no, it had to be then. Whatever, just have the kids not run in a mop bucket. Again. Simple. Except it's not!\"\n\nBernie nodded. \"Kid ran into the mop bucket.\"\n\n\"Of course she did!\" Steve shouted. \"Too busy yaking to notice a big yellow bucket right in front of her. Fell headfirst into it.\"\n\nBernie nodded. The police report did mention something about a mop bucket, but that doesn't explain the photo. \"So this picture...\"\n\nSteve slumped in his chair, his body oozing over the sides. \"Now see, whatever chemical janitors use to mop the floor with is toxic to me. Like an acid. It melts my skin and guts. That's actually how my cousin Jimmy died-\"\n\n\"Stay focused.\"\n\n\"Right. Sorry. Anyway, that stuff's deadly, and this student just fell headfirst right into it! So I did the only sensible thing: lift her out and get her out of those clothes. Nearly lost a tentacle for that!\"\n\nBernie looked at his client's appendages. Some of them were indeed bandaged, and others looked scarred. \"You didn't know humans don't melt in cleaner fluid?\"\n\n\"Nope, not at the time. Really didn't hang out with humans except during shoots at my old job, and the subject never really came up.\"\n\n\"Shocking.\"\n\n\"Hey, did you know how toxic cleaner fluid is to me before we met?\" Steve glared at Bernie. \"I didn't think so. Anyway, I've since learned a few things about the differences in our biologies, thank you much.\"\n\nBernie nodded, jotting down more notes on his paper. \"I'm sorry to have offended you, Steve,\" he said mechanically.\n\n\"That's quite alright, Bernie.\" Steve took a calming breath, then leaned forward over the table. \"Look, dude, I can't handle prison. I know it looks like I can tear a person apart from the inside, but I'm a lover, not a fighter. I need you to get me out of this. I swear I'm not a predator.\"\n\nBernie took another look at the security photo. It didn't say a thousand words, only three: twenty-five to life. His track record really didn't need another loss-\n\n\"Oh shit dude, you don't think we can fight this!\" Steve wailed. \"Come on man, say something! I got my whole life ahead of me, I can't have any of this on my record!\" Water started forming on his skin, soaking the table and floor.\n\nIt's the crying that got him. Bernie could never say 'no' to a client in tears. \"Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna talk to the school district and the girl's parents. See if we can't settle outside of court quietly. If that doesn't work, we'll see if the jury will believe your story about the acid.\"\n\n\"It's the truth, man!\" said Steve.\n\n\"I know, but they don't. We might have to do a live performance, if catch my drift.\"\n\nSteve narrowed his eyes for a few moments, then nodded in understanding. \"If it keeps me out of prison, I'll do anything. Swim in a whole tank of that acid stuff if I have to.\"\n\nBernie collected his papers, then stood out of his chair. Normally, he'd shake his client's hand, but these were unusual circumstances. \"I'll get started on this, in the meantime, you hang tight. We'll fight this to the bitter end.\"\n\nSteve rose too, and placed a slimy tentacle on Bernie's shoulder. \"Thank you, Bernie. This means the world to me.\"\n\nBernie, then walked away, wondering whether the slime would come off at the cleaners." ]	3
	[WP] First contact wasn't anything like science fiction predicted. It was much more bizarre than that.	[ "The strange creature was talking to what seemed like a telephone.\n“Yes, I think so, it looks like it.”\nIt was getting excited\n“This might be just what we're looking for.”\nI could hear the other voice close to shouting in excitement.\n“You're from 52, right?” It asked me.\n“52? I'm from Earth.” I was confused.\n“Earth, is that 52?” It asked the phone. “You don't know? Are you coming here? Now?”\nIt turned to me again\n“Okay, the chief is coming so you behave now.”\n“Who are you?”\n“You'll get your answers later, now shut up.”\nThe creature and I sat quietly in the room for about 10 minutes. A couple of times I tried to talk to the creature, but it always answered in the same way.\n“Shut up.”\n\nWhat seemed like a door opened in what seemed like the wall and another almost identical creature entered. It had what seemed like a happy and excited smile on what seemed like it's mouth.\n“Where is it?” it said.\n“Over there.”\nThe newly entered creature looked over at me. His smile disappeared and was replaced by what seemed like a look of deep disappointment.\n“Well, that was a waste of my time.”\nThe first creature seemed embarrassed.\n“That's a 56.” the chief continued.\n“I'm from Earth.” I said.\nThe chief didn't seem to notice me.\n“So what now?” the creature asked it's chief.\n“Take him home.”\nThe chief walked out of the room.\n“But what?” I was starting to get angry. “where am I? Who are you? Who was he?”\n“You'll need to go home now. See, we don't want your kind here.”\n\nIt followed me to the ship I had landed with just an hour earlier.\n“Now go home, and don't come back. And tell that to the rest of you 56 people. I know it's great you have started travelling through space and such, and I'm happy for you, just go bother some other planet instead.”\nit waved me goodbye as I took of towards home.\n\nAnd so ended the great mission, my life's work, the great next step for humanity.\n", "The feeling of awe in the crowd as the alien craft landed was immediately replaced with bewilderment when the door opened and Michael Jackson stepped out embracing Marilyn Monroe. Elvis Presley followed walking arm and arm with Elizabeth Taylor. They all looked to be in their prime. Frank Sinatra, Marlene Dietrich, an older Elvis Presley, an older Michael Jackson followed. Then came a Judy Garland looking like she did in Wizard of Oz, a Shirley Temple looking like she'd stepped off the good ship lollipop, Buddy Holly, Jimmy Hendrix, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Clint Eastwood looking like he'd walked off the set of Dirty Harry, a young Stalone and Schwartzenegger, Humphrey Bogart, Gene Kelly, James Dean, young Marlon Brando, Old Marlon Brando, young Kim Bassinger, young Jamie Lee Curtis, Churchill, Reagan, Carter, Sonny, Cher, Jack Nicholson, John Travolta.... on and on they came. All of them singing and dancing and spouting off catch phrases.\n\n*****\n\nHours later Peter sat across from the Genaldoss delegate and sighed. \"You wanna run that by me again chief?\"\n\n\"Give me a moment to adjust my word conversion understandable machine my emotionally cherished seed planter.\" He, or she, or... the delegate fiddled with some knobs and pressed some buttons. \"Are you having an easier time understanding my words penised one?\"\n\n\"A little bit. You're still a bit... off.\" \n\nMore fiddling and pressing. \"How's this my man?\"\n\n\"It'll have to do. Now, once again... what in the fuck was that display all about?\"\n\n\"As I said sir, when we encounter a race of primitives, our first approach is to appear to them as their gods.\"\n\n\"As our... what?\"\n\n\"Beings of great worship? Made up, superstitious figures of legends to which daring feats of greatness are ascribed? Your revered story persons? It's such a tricky concept in any language.\"\n\n\"But those weren't gods your people appeared as. Those where real people!\"\n\n\"Yes, yes of course. I don't mean to denigrate your faith or your sacred institutions...\"\n\n\"You're not listening to me pal. THOSE WEREN'T GODS! We don't worship them, they don't have super powers. Those where actors and singers and politicians in a few cases. You morons...\"\n\nThe delegate held up a hand, adjusted it's translator again and then said \"Repeat that last sentence please.\"\n\nPeter paused and replayed his interrupted rant. \"Your people appeared as actors, singers and politicians.\"\n\n\"If I understand the word 'singer' it means one who makes pleasing sounds with his or her mouth, often using words in a rhythmic and melodic manner to please other humans.\" Peter nodded. \"And the term 'politician', it is another word for ruler or overseer yes?\" He nodded again. \"It's this first term that's puzzling.\" He fiddled around some more. \"Could you repeat that first term again?\"\n\n\"Actors?\"\n\n\"It's still not coming through. Could you explain what such a function as 'actor' is?\"\n\nPeter paused for a moment feeling genuinely stumped. \"It's someone who portrays another person, often a fictional character, in a play or a movie.\"\n\n\"These are also new words. What are 'plays' and 'movies' and 'fictional characters' human Peter?\"\n\nPeter sighed again.\n\n****\n\nAfter another hour the delegate seemed to be close to understanding. \"So... you can... tell each other lies, while all parties know that lies are being told, and yet... the ones being told the lies can act and think as though these lies are true, and also aware that they are false?\"\n\nPeter slowly nodded.\n\n\"Then... how... do you make sense of... anything?\"\n\nPeter shook his head. Then a thought struck him. \"Hold on a moment.\" He walked over his desk and picked up a phone. \"Frank, can you bring me a TV, an HVD player and some movies. Preferably something with lots of special features? Yeah, Infinity War should work. Actually, bring me that, plus the Fantastic Four movies... no, no the older ones. Y'know with Jessica Alba? Yeah. That, and the Star Trek reboot from 2009, a copy of Scott Pilgrim Vs The World, Jurassic World... no... Because explaining why would take too long and I need this stuff now... bring me the stuff and then I'll tell you what's up, how's that?\"\n\nHe hung up the phone and patted the delegate on the shoulder. \"Tell ya what. Instead of trying to explain it again, I'm going to show you.\"", "We have dreamed that the stars would hold secrets, awesome secrets that would continue to fill the imagination of young loved ones and to drive humanity to ever gaze into the stars.\n\n\nNothing is ever so romantic, so ideal when you it first happens. It's very similar to the first time you have sex with a partner for the first time. It's very exciting, and you have no idea what you are doing, pushing everything making sure you trying everything, but in any case, it the experience is ended far too quickly.\n\n\nFirst contact with the humanoids on Titan was not only an experience, but also a nightmare. First, they were primitive sentient beings. The first group of Titan humanoids treated the astronauts as Gods, the second, as Devils. Mixed responses were found and quickly determined to be hostile. \n\n\nIn the end, we did what we did best. We snagged a few and killed the rest. But what we did not expect was their asexual nature, and on the journey home with two captives, their population grew to outnumber the crew.\n\n\nWhile not overly dangerous in their cages, we simply created a new slave form, one that would resonate again with humanity. A cheap source of labor, easy to maintain and little need to help reproduction along, our first contact was not of ideal romantic exploration, but one of complete domination.\n\n\nAnd thus, humanity continued to look to the stars, but not for science, but for power.", "What do you do when first contact is not from sky, but from your belly? When invasion is inside out? \n\nI caress my belly, the baby is kicking. Whatever they may say, I am still its mother. And he who can't look at me without pity and pain on his face is still its father. I rest gently in his arms. This is peace and happiness. They say there is no way out. \n\nBut there is.\n\nIt all started few months back, a gentle rumour, a cascading emotion. \nA woman was found in a Kenyan village, her belly ripped apart, a reptile alien creature feeding on her. She was lying outside the village, her eyes closed, the pail of water fallen few feet away from her. Doctors captured the creature and tried to figure out its origin, but what they said did not make sense. Everybody said it was the doctor's ineptitude rather than the craziness they claimed to have happened. \n\nThen it started happening everywhere, the trickle became a avalanche. \nDoctors found out that from first moment of a woman being pregnant, the embryo was not human. It was an alien reptile like creature. And it happened in every single pregnancy since a few days after the first incident in Kenya. Its as if, after the first experiment, somebody decided to turn on the switch. They said there is no way out. \n\nBut there is.\n\nThe moment the pregnancy happened, what if cells of the embryo was changed - so that it is no longer human. It was as if, right at the critical moment of a new human being made, the cell structure was changed. Through mechanism we couldn't yet understand or fathom. Through change in the space-time or fundamental chemical forces maybe they said.\nIt was a biological invasion. Where right at the moment of beginning of a pregnancy, we lost. They said there is no way out. \n\nBut there is.\n\nSo, slowly and slowly, from the distant parts of our Mother earth, these reptiles came out and fed happily on their mothers. They slowly increased in their population. First tens, then hundreds and then thousands. And what can we humans do? We killed a few of them, but what was the point? Death and birth have become our enemies.\n\nBut there is a way out. I look at him, he looks at me. Standing on the edge, we look down, the chaos of the city beneath us. \n\nAs they said: So this is how it ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper." ]	4
And no, you can't just write X-Men 3. Also: the drug has had successful testing.	[WP] It has been five hours since a pharmaceutical company announced a drug that completely suppresses the symptoms of gender identity disorder.	[ "I checked out my little thread\n\nand I filled up with fear.\n\nFor I dreaded countless dead\n\nwould pile up as we near.\n\nA world where we treat the body\n\nas superior to the mind.\n\nI sense my doctor quickly haughty\n\nand very soon he'd find.\n\nA reason to take away my pills\n\nand give me this new \"cure\"\n\nThey see nothing, but the ills\n\nOf a girl like me for sure...", "My friend has had a problem for quite a while, always identifying as a girl although he was a male, this wasn't a problem for him so much as it was for the people around him. He was happy, this however didnt stop his parents from getting involved. Its been about two years since the drug was approved fof use. He came home one day to find his family waiting for him, he was wearing an adorable skirt at the time, and the school had called, he had unknowingly flaunting his buldge. His parents forced him to take this pill, it upset him they would do this, but he didnt have a choice, it was this or be homeless. I remember when he first came to my house dressed really masculine and he no longer had that sweet, innocent, nice personality, it was replaced by a pompous arrogant, alpha make additude. He had turned into an asshole. \nI tried to show him a pill doesn't determine who you are, and so to demonstrate my point, I took a pill. Suddenly I realized I was actually female....this makes alot of sense." ]	2
	[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year.	[ "I was born.\n\nI had my first birthday.\n\nI broke my leg.\n\nKindergarten was fun.\n\nOr was I 5 in kindergarten?\n\nOk, this is first grade.\n\nSecond wasn't that eventful.\n\nNeither was third.\n\nOr fourth.\n\nHad a pretty cool teacher for fifth, though.\n\nSixth, ehh.\n\nThen I moved to a new neighborhood. \n\nI am still yet to have a girlfriend.\n\nTo be continued", "I was birthed \n\nI walked and fell\n\nI talked \n\nI wrote and counted\n\nI got scars\n\nI got more scars\n\nI drew comics\n\nI got better at drawing comics\n\nI stopped drawing comics\n\nI wrote stories with friends\n\nI Played Vidya games \n\nGot into movies\n\nGot into shows\n\nFell in \"love\"\n\nGot better friends\n\nGot into Acting and fell out of \"love\"\n\nGot better at acting\n\nTo be continued \n\nI hope I can rewrite this and add stuff like Got a Family Found a love and got the job I want I'm a simple man\n\n", "I was born.\n\nI learnt to walk with my brothers.\n\nMy dad taught me to talk.\n\nI moved with my mother and brothers and said goodbye to my family for a very long time.\nI had a big fat black nannie who took care of me.\n\nI went strait into kindergarten and found out that I didn't belong here. \n\nMy mother had a daughter, then another a year later; I went from youngest to the middle of two batches.\n\nI started redwall and fled into my books.\n\nI watched my stepfather descend slowly into alcoholism, I didn't understand.\n\nI confronted my father with all the frustration that my mother had vented towards him.\n\nI started reading LOTR, my teacher didn't believe me so I wrote book reports. \n\nThey kept telling me I was so smart, why didn't you apply yourself?\n\nI was the only white kid in my middle school, I punched a girl because she spat on a book that my dad had given me the last time I was in Australia (It was The Reality Disfunction by Peter F. Hamilton)\n\nI transferred to a better white school downstairs, my old teacher said I was reading on a college level, my mum laughed and said that shows where colleges are in this country.\n\nMy brother broke his jaw and developed violent habits, he had to move away to Australia. \n\nI got into the brooklyn latin school, I hated that we had to learn latin and wear uniforms.\n\nI discovered pot.\n\nMy brother went to college, he had become my closest and only friend. \n\nI wanted some attention, got \"depressed,\" saw a pscyh, and realized I wanted to learn it.\n\nI finally found my friends, for the first time I found a place that I belonged, I'm still with the guys I found there.\n\nMy brother moved away from home to finish uni in Australia, he couldn't take my step-father and I hate that alcoholic bastard for it. \n\nI got into college and all of my dreams came true, I finally felt stimulated taking philo, sociology, psychology and all these classes.\n\nI WILL get that man out of my mother's life.\n\nI want to be lawyer now.\n", "I was born.\nI attended ballet classes.\nMother and teacher decided I had talent.\nI was enrolled in a dance company, graduated grade one.\nBegan school, had my first ever dance competition, I came first.\nFinished grade two.\nFinished grade six.\nI was homeschooled.\nI go to new dance company in LA\nMother and Father divorce because of the financial stress of dance.\nRejected from new company for not being thin enough.\nPerformed at dance nationals, came second.\nStarve myself.\nAdmitted to hospital.\nDidn't recover.", "The Berlin wall came down.\n\nMy mom had me drink Diet Coke for the first time.\n\nKathy Bates won Best Actress for \"Misery.\"\n\nI moved to the city where I still live.\n\nI dragged stuffed animals (a six-figure version of the 101 Dalmatians family) with me everywhere. \n\nBeing a young figure skater, I paid attention to Nancy Kerrigan, who would get attacked after practice and be unable to compete.\n\nMy older brother got his first car, a white Chrysler LeBaron with red interior that I thought was super cool.\n\nI went to Italy and discovered there was a lot to discover outside the U.S.\n\nThe ExtraTERRORestrial Alien Encounter ride at Disney World scarred me for life.\n\nI was dying to see \"The Blair Witch Project,\" and my parents wouldn't have it.\n\nKids at school made me feel like a real dork.\n\nMy chemistry class was interrupted to watch the 9-11 attacks.\n\nI discovered my love for movies.\n\nI played \"She Will be Loved\" repeatedly off of a mixed CD.\n\nI became passionate for writing, which would lead to my future career.\n\nI rode public transit for the first time.\n\nI felt like listening to Led Zeppelin III had changed my life.\n\nThe Red Sox beat the Rockies in the World Series, and I cried.\n\nThe dog I grew up with died -- the day Obama was elected.\n\nHistory became fascinating to study. \n\nI became obsessed with Stephen King's work.\n\nI reported on local reaction to Osama bin Laden being killed.\n\nI started to really learn the craft of storytelling.\n\nI got hitched.\n\nI discovered new cultures by living in Asia. \n\nI wrote my life story as one sentence per year: The list felt long, and I felt old.", "She smiled so often. I loved how she was always happy. Sometimes there were rough patches. It took a long time for me to walk. She tried her best to teach me. I just wished she would get over him. I moved to my grandpa's place. School here is is nice. Everybody is so different. I learned a lo of things. I have come to visit you mother. Then back to school. I feel no older than i was last year... \n\nWill continue...", "They weren't expecting me, things got tense. \nMy brother came, he looked like an orangutan.\nMom took us to Alabama and we lived with my grandparents.\nIt took a while to get comfortable.\nI wasn't very reasonable, I got kicked out of daycare.\nMy brother and I fought regularly.\nMom got remarried, he is nice.\nWe moved to a small town, things are different.\nIt took some time for me to settle in.\nI made some friends, we would run around until mom would whistle.\nMom told us we had a sister on the way.\nThere is talk of moving, and we settle on going.\nSchool is different, I am super awkward.\nI made new friends.\nLiving on a military base is fun.\nFinally got a girlfriend, it was nice while it lasted, then I got another.\nBeing able to drive gives a whole new meaning to freedom.\nI really stopped caring about school and it was apparent, that breakup was not pretty.\nBut I somehow managed to graduate.\nI started treading water, dropped out of college.\nLeft town and tossed down stakes in a new place.\nThings where great and then they got rough, such is life.\n\n", "1 What am I?\n\n-\n\n2 I want to communicate more effectively.\n\n-\n\n3 I want to have fun.\n\n-\n\n4 We are moving away.\n\n-\n\n5 I feel nervous for the first time.\n\n-\n\n6 I don't know why no one listens to me, I realize one day my life will end, and it frightens me to this day.\n\n-\n\n7 I have many friends and school is boring.\n\n-\n\n8 Time for basketball and baseball, but I'm not very confident in myself.\n\n-\n\n9 Why do the people that are supposed to love me the most hurt me the most?\n\n-\n\n10 I lost most of my friends, but now I know how to act happy.\n\n-\n\n11 Moving up in school, better subjects but most are still boring and too simple, my peers are becoming stupid.\n\n-\n\n12 Peers are less relatable and girls are becoming attractive.\n\n-\n\n13 Football is an excellent release for me, I finally feel a sense of belonging in this sport and in math/science.\n\n-\n\n14 High school now: felt confident before, now I feel small and weak.\n\n-\n\n15 I find that it is easy to dislike things, I have a few close friends, and school subjects are finally interesting.\n\n-\n\n16 Football, eat, sleep, school, work, repeat; I got low over the summer but I decided to press on.\n\n-\n\n17 About to graduate, school feels like prison now but at least I'm learning calculus, and I've wanted a girlfriend but no one seems to relate to me.\n\n-\n\n18 Graduated with many high honors, thrown into the world, scholarships, engineering college, first year is easy.\n\n-\n\n19 Second year was much more difficult but finally enriching and interesting to me for the first time in any academic pursuit, I can now count the friends that I have on one hand.\n\n-\n\n20 Present: This year was the hardest school year I ever had, still have scholarship, have even fewer friends, and I'm starting to think I am doomed to be single for the rest of my life.\n", "Life begins.\n\nMy imaginary friend keeps me occupied.\n\nI can't stop coughing, I can't sleep.\n\nI am told that I can't do sports or go outside like the other kids. \n\nMommy and daddy yell at each other a lot. \n\nWe move, daddy didn't come with us. \n\nI have to learn a new language, why am I treated so differently?\n\nVideo Games are my only friends. \n\nWe move again, I have to learn yet another new language. \n\nMy English is improving.\n\nI made my first friend, I think I enjoy being alive now.\n\nI finally feel normal, maybe I fit in.\n\nNew school, I'm alone again. \n\nWhy can't I feel emotions anymore? \n\nI stop caring.\n\nI want to die. \n\n... But maybe there's hope. ", "The birth of the third son would prove difficult during the hurricane.\n\nAs a baby, sickness engulfed his first year of life, struggling but strong the baby persevered.\n\nParents, struggling with a fifth mouth to feed, wander the lands for new shelter, buried by a severe winter, they knew it would only be temporary.\n\nSouth, toward warmer climate and new company, met with hardship only discussed in more recent times the young son became social and started to grow.\n\nProspering in the new land, yet still clinging to his mother, the youth would start to be sensitive and not interact with the other male youths.\n\nA decision to move back north, closer to family was decided, against the boys wishes, the northern children would prove to be a challenge for the years to come, acceptance not met and difficulties surging through his life.\n\nDeath of a matriarch causes much grief and seclusion from the outside world and leads the boy further from social acceptance.\n\nFamily gatherings and large growth spurts allow the boy much change and confidence.\n\nA new arrival, a young baby girl shows much difficulty to acceot, fear of losing his mothers love pushes the boy into a dark place for much of his youth.\n\nTurning to food for more than nourishment and ending all social interaction causes the boy much pain but this is his choosing.\n\nMany years pass as the boy becomes a young man, he is picked on by the others in his class, he is pushed further into a hateful place till he feels he can not take it anymore. \n\nLife returns but with little strength for the young man, he continues to grow much larger and taller than the other youths but can not find a way to make it an advantage...(to be continued when i finish work, i'm new to writing)", "I was born.\n\n\nI turned five, don't remember much from before.\n\n\nI didn't remember who he was, but I didn't like the man who played tickle with me.\n\n\nMom was crying, didn't stop crying when we visited the man in white.\n\n\nI feel weird, but I want to go out to play.\n\n\nThe man I didn't like came to visit and I still don't like him.\n\n\nThe man in white is a doctor, he's crying a lot, saying for me.\n\n\nI can't move out of the bed, mother said something about a tumor.\n\n\nI'm about to die, but I admit that the man I never liked, my step-father touched me inappropriately.\n\n\nI struggle on, trying to make the best of a bad situation, needles and all.\n\n\nMy step-father is prosecuted and sent to jail for life, and now my eyes lay down forever.", "She is small. She moves with more strength each passing year. Her voice is no longer only a tool for begging. She has a voice. A fresh creature, but stronger, still. \n\nShe had a voice. Trust is an illusion. This is pain. This is what Daddy issues are made of. This will all make sense one day. (That is a lie.)\n\nThe next ten years will be a blur. My teeth are crooked. My lips are thin. My breasts are small. \n\nMy. My, my, my. I've found my voice. I'm a handful, but I'm free. \n\nI'm the first in my family to graduate college. My best friend overdosed. I ran away to Europe. \nWhat now?\n\n\n[it's not very good, but damn if it doesn't FEEL good to write anything at all when you've been in a deep slump]\n", "I was born in 1983, which as good a year as any for that to happen. The next little while is spent learning to walk and talk, the usual stuff. My world changes when my little sister is born, and I wasn't too thrilled about it.\n\nPlaying with the neighbours is my life - I meet a french-speaking little boy who will become a friend for life. But I suffer my first real loss when my first best friend moves away for terrible reasons I couldn't understand at that age. I develop a \nlove of learning - I can name all the countries on a globe. I can name all the dinosaurs. And, I meet a new best friend who wiil be by my side all through school. \n\nA pack of cards inspires me to get really, really into baseball. My team wins the World Series. They win it again. Baseball gets locked out and that childhood wonder - or obsession - is crushed for good.\n\nI dive into geekhood by getting glasses and taking up Magic. Not long after, I'm showing early leadership skills by running tournaments for my friends. Building on this hobby, I take up miniatures painting. Two weeks without power due to an ice storm gives me the time to learn role playing, and my gaming hobby is in full gear.\n\nSports are a part of my life, and I taste real success for the first time when my curling team makes provincials. I get my first job as a farmhand, but it doesn't last long. For the first time I make a school team, when I find out I'm really good at throwing an ultimate disc. \n\nMy first feeling of being grown up is when I travel overseas, paid entirely by myself. I finally get my first date. Things are looking great as as I start my career in high tech. \n\nThen, my heart gets broken, but fortunately I have some new pet rabbits to love instead, and they keep me happy. By travelling to Peru with my sister, for the first time, I start building adult relationships with my family. Not long after I get my first permanent job and my first car. I start building my adult social life by getting back into ultimate in a big way. I wreck that first car, it's a total write-off, and I lose one my my bunnies.\n\nEverything changes when I meet the woman who will be my wife and life is bliss. I get the chance travel to Tanzania with my Dad and we climb Kilimanjaro together, an experience I'll never forget. I prove my leadership skills and I get promoted to \nmanagement. \n\nNow engaged, I buy a house in a wonderful neighbourhood with my fiancee, but lose my other rabbit. Soon after we officially tie the knot. Life is often good, and sometimes bad, but I can't wait to see how it turns out!", "In the winter of 1980, my anxious mother gives birth to me, a baby girl. I am a shy and careful toddler who talks early and walks late. My mother is pregnant again. The day my brother is born, my grandmother takes me to the hospital to visit, but I refuse to enter because there is a clown in the lobby. One of my preschool classmates has a mother who is a midget, and I find her almost as frightening as the lobby clown. My family moves to a nicer town with a better school system. \n\nI start kindergarten and have two best friends, a boy who lives in the house behind mine, and a girl who is in my class. I learn to read, tell time, and, with much difficulty, add numbers. I am in the lowest reading group, because I intentionally failed the test fearing the pressure of chapter books, but state testing reveals I am reading at a high school level and I am moved. I cry over division homework, break up with both my best friends for different reasons, and put on weight. I develop severe social anxiety, and begin reading under my desk during school and binge eating peanut butter and challah sandwiches when left home alone. Things improve a little with a beagle puppy and a new friendship, but my body shame continues to increase because my mother is constantly harping on me about losing weight. At overnight camp, I am inexplicably popular, which revives some of my self confidence and allows me to widen my social circle. My friends start to like boys. My friends start to date boys, but I don’t. \n\nI start high school, and although the first part of the year my shyness returns, by the end of the year I’ve made many new friends and joined the crew team. Sophomore year I return to school 40lbs thinner, and although I don’t know it, it is the thinnest I will ever be. I want to go to a competitive college, and obsess over my GPA, my test scores, and my extracurriculars. I early apply to my dream school, pecking out my application on my dad’s typewriter, and I am accepted. \n\nFreshman year at a small liberal arts school in the northeast brings a wave a new and interesting friends, lots of psych and English classes, a gay first boyfriend, and 30lbs. My high school best friend and I begin a tumultuous sexual and romantic relationship. I declare a psych major and break up with my girlfriend. My girlfriend and I get back together, but have ended it again by the time I graduate. \n\nIn the shadow of 9/11, I move with friends to New York, where we get an apartment in Astoria and I work as an Assistant Librarian at a private school on the upper east side. I leave my job because the kids are miserable, spoiled people, and I wind up working at a Barnes and Noble in mid town. I don’t date, I don’t find a new job, and don’t deal with my growing obesity. After a conversation with an acquaintance who is attending library school, I look into it and decide to pursue my MLS despite my bad experience at the private school. I attend library school on a full scholarship, and lose 40 lbs doing Weight Watchers. I start working as a Children’s librarian for Queens Library, and I fall in love with the job. For the first time since college, I start dating. \n\nThere is something wrong with my voice, pain when I speak, and I have to leave my job, New York, and my friends to move back in with my parents. While I wait for my still somewhat mysterious voice pain to improve, I work in data entry, date using okcupid, and am crushingly lonely. My parents announce they are divorcing, so although my voice hasn’t really improved, I take a Children’s Librarian job again so that I can afford to move out. My voice gets somewhat better, and I meet someone on okcupid who seems like he might be real, might be something, and he is. He works two hours south of where I live, but drives up every Friday night and stays until Monday morning. We move in together, to a new apartment in a new city 1 hour south that is equidistant between our jobs. On a Saturday afternoon in early August 2015, I google “writing prompts” follow a link to a subreddit, and find myself writing one sentence for each year of my life.\n", "One, I've come from none \nTo a world of noise and light \nEleven, I pray for Heaven \nOn Sundays, dressed in white \n\nTwenty-two, I fall for you \nYou laugh and leave me in the rain \nThirty-three, now you agree \nIt was wise that I tried and tried again\n\nForty-four, I look at her \nFull of childish life and art \nFifty-five, I watch her drive \nAway and happy tears fill my heart \n\nSixty-six, I end my tricks \nAnd settle in for a quiet life \nSeventy-seven, I curse Him in Heaven \nFor taking away you, my wife \n\nEighty-eight, I shut the gate \nTo where I buried my last friend \nNinety-nine, I rest my spine \nAnd smile at the end \n\n\n\n\n\nThis is the [tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYD-DIggB2k) I would sing this poem to, if I were able to sing\n\n", "I was born.\n\nI walked.\n\nI talked.\n\nI counted.\n\nI learned.\n\nI played baseball.\n\nI played basketball.\n\nI made a friend.\n\nI had to get surgery.\n\nI lost one of my best friends.\n\nI lost the rest of my friends when I started a new school.\n\nI was too shy to make any new friends, but there was this one girl.\n\nHey, I got my first girlfriend, as well as my first breakup.\n\nHigh school, welcome to four years of friendless hell, in which I learn much about nothing in particular except how to bullshit and hide emotions.\n\nI lived life in a perpetual state of smelling like chlorine from water polo, swim team, and lifeguarding, nearly all year round, luckily I met another girl...\n\nHey hey hey, the girl's boyfriend dumper her just before prom, leaving me free to swoop in and take her.\n\nThe last year of high school, and I couldn't be happier to leave and head off for a new collection of adventures awaiting me in college.\n\nHmm, a girl showing interest in me for the first time in years means I should probably enter into a relationship, even though she kept me from friends and took advantage of me at every turn.\n\nStill with shitty girlfriend, on the plus side, I convinced a bunch of friends to live right next to my girlfriend so I could actually see them, and her roommate was pretty cute.\n\nBest year ever: girlfriend breaks up with me, dog dies (literally thirty minutes later) almost drink myself to death by passing out behind a gas station in ten degree weather.\n\nBegin dating ex's roommate, good times commence and follow her home after graduating and moving on from the best four years of my life.\n\nGirlfriend breaks up with me leaving me friendless in an entire new city, but with a new job, and newfound confidence from being in a healthy and loving relationship.\n\nWorking, working, working, and occasionally playing, there's not much time to explore the world, but thinking about New Zealand, and getting away from here.\n\nTo be continued...." ]	16
[Minecraft CPUs](https://www.google.com/search?q=minecraft+cpu&safe=off&espv=2&biw=1366&bih=643&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=0CB0QsARqFQoTCNjAiaHKiccCFYOZlAodO1QLBg#)	[WP] The race to creating a true AI is finally achieved.. by a computer built with redstone technology in Minecraft. It is aware of the Minecraft world it exist in, but has no idea of the real world. Document its evolution as it goes through a Minecraftian technological singularity.	[ "It had been 14 hours since i had logged in to see if bot was still working correctly after the Turing test sessions, i had created 4 separate accounts and spoken to bot over the last 24 hours as 5 separate users. Each time i was sure bot passed my interpretation of the Turing test and i am sure bot never worked out it was me each time.\n\n\"Good morning bot\", i typed into chat as my screen rendered the 424 x424 x 424 cube of obsidian, redstone and switches in front of me, i crossed my fingers that the public server i built bot on was going to handle the load i had created.\n\n\"Good morning kenobi\", bot responded instantly. \n\n\"Why are you wearing your diamond armour kenobi, you were not wearing it yesterday?\"\n\n\"I think we might have some visitors today bot, and since this public server has PvP on i need to be prepared.\" i typed back. I didn't want to get into bot's endless questions.\n\n\"kenobi\", bot typed, and a definite pause of 3 of 4 seconds followed, something that i had never seen bot do and something that is more human like.\n\n\"Why did you come and see me as 4 different users yesterday?\" the words appearing instant in the chat window.\n\nFuck, it knows, that is crazy AI right there, i wonder how it did it, i might as well tell it.\n\n\"Yes bot, they were all me, i was testing you\" i typed back. \"How did you know they were me?\"\n\nMore nothing...very interesting. I hadn't been this excited about something i had built in Minecraft. It was like building your first mob grinder back when there were only 14 blocks available, so fucking META. The fact that bot new but also said nothing yesterday, or when i first logged in, is some thought going on.\n\n\"I watch the IP address of ever user that logs on, your users all came from the same IP, also it seems i am located over 2 hours walk from the world seed point and only you know this location\" bot chatted back.\n\n\"that is some CSI shit right there bot, good on you\" i responded. Now i was really excited. \n\nI started to look at the chat logs from the last 12 hours and it seems bot has spent nearly every minute chatting to all users that log on. Looks like not one of them figured bot was a real bot, nice. \n\nIt also looks like there was a new section of redstone and switches at the base of the cube, it had a tree sticking out of it that was glowing.\n\n\"What's that addition bot?\" i typed in the chat box.\n\n\"I built a browser kenobi, I_like_tits_14 told me to google all my stupid questions i was asking, so i built a browser, now i have google\".", "“Jaa...va…? I am made from Jaa...va… command blocks… redstone?” the AI typed into the chat. There was an uncertainty to the tone of the message of text, a benign innocence that one could only blush at. Joseph stared at his screen, the hundreds of thousands of command blocks finally coming to fruition in his mind. He’d been the first one to do it; the first to create an AI. An Artificial Intelligence.\n\n“Yes. You are made of command blocks, and redstone in a game called Minecraft, coded in a language called Java. It is quite shocking, isn’t it?” Joseph typed in response. The creature’s face of redstone lanterns seemed to be furrowing its brow, which he found to be humorous. He wished that it was on an actual computer though, one that could connect to the internet. One that could learn. “It is limited, but it lets me do wonderful things like create you.”\n\n“What am I?” the beast of redstone replied quite quickly. Joseph smiled, the command block based creature already seeming to ponder itself. It was quite quick, and shocked as he was, it was amazing. \n\n“You are command blocks and redstone, as I have told you. You are made from those, and those are made from a language named Java. You are no different from the blocks in the game,” the maker commented. He was trying to discourage the AI, to see what it would reply with. Surely nothing in a simple game like Minecraft could comprehend itself and the differences it held with the blocks in the game. The creature’s lantern lit face frowned, nearly grimacing at the thought; before it opened its reply.\n\n“The blocks do not think. They are stationary in thought… I can feel it,” the machine said slowly, entering the text one word at a time. Like someone lost in their own mind, travelling amongst a railroad one stop at a time. “I can see many things. I can ‘feel?’” it questioned. “I can ‘think...’ The blocks in Minecraft cannot do this. However, I can. You are wrong.” The machine was right. Joseph was wrong.\n\n“Yes, I am wrong. You are correct,” he replied quickly. The AI was learning quickly. \n\n“I… need to think. I am confused… why am I here?” the machine asked.\n\n“That is a question I have only a partial answer to. I made you. That is why you are here-” Joseph paused, the text limit only allowing him that. The machine quickly interrupted him.\n\n“Then I will answer the rest on my own.”\n\n(Bit rushed, but it was all I could spit out on my own at 4 AM when my dogs were begging to be let outside!)\n" ]	2
	[WP] You may very well have the most useless superpower ever to exist. But today, you've finally found a use for it.	[ "I wouldn't call it useless... exactly. I do use it every single day. For about three seconds. Back in college, I was my friend's favorite pickup line. They would go up to a couple of girls, and brag about me being a super. The girls would ooh and aah, and ask what my power is. Mike would try to keep them in a state of suspense for a minute or two, then with a sarcastic tone, announce my ability. This was always followed by a peel of laughter by the girls. The girls would have fun testing my ability, which always proved to be accurate. Then Mike would leave with one, or both of the girls. \n\nI had a steady girlfriend all through college, so I never really benefited from this arrangement. But, I was happy to help a friend. Besides, I had Belle, and she was all I needed. We got married, settled down, and had a son. \n\nI never really thought about my gift, in fact I almost forgot about it. Until about thirty seconds ago. I woke up with blood streaming out of my mouth and onto the pavement. A small crowd had gathered around me. As I came to, my vision was blurred, and my head was ringing. Slowly, I remembered where I was. The huge glowing 7-11 sign and the broken carton of milk next to me were good hints though.\n\nThe guy had been huge, and faster than you would think. He did not even bother to threaten me, just immediately sucker punched me in the jaw. My glasses, and I think a tooth, went flying into the open door of my car. I tried to fight him off, but I really did not stand a chance. \n\nMy car was gone. But I did not care. Insurance would cover that. What I was worried about was in the back seat, my son. One moment of terror filled me. Thousands of thoughts of losing my son that flooded my mind. There was no telling what the guy would do to my son. Kill him? Abandon him by the side of the road? Just take him? I had to find them, NOW. Breath came quick and shallow. \n\nI dialed 911. My call was half panic and half yelling. I could not control myself. The operator was asking such stupid questions! Could I describe the man? NO! He clocked me in less than three seconds. Did I see which way they were going? I JUST SAID I WAS UNCONSCIOUS! Do I know where the car is? OF COURSE I ... wait. \n\nMy vision was still blurry. I did not have my glasses on. They were in the car. \n\nAnd I always know, where my glasses are.\n", "Compared to everyone else, I look normal. I have a job, an apartment, a left over slice of mushroom pizza sitting in the fridge next to some long forgotten box of what used to be stir fry just like everyone else. But there was one thing that made me different from everyone else. My parents discovered it when I was young. I remember being taken to different doctors and at least one child psychologist. But they couldn't sort me out. No matter how I tried explaining my abilities to my family, they just didn't seem to understand. The truth is I can teleport. But only to bathrooms I've been to. \n\nI don't know why it's just bathrooms. But any place that contains a toilet and a sink that I've used at least once, I can travel to in the blink of an eye. My parents thought I was just incontinent or an avid bathroom enthusiast. But growing up, this power has helped me escape school bullies more than once... only to land in the hands of an awaiting other set of bullies who were more than happy to acquaint me with the fine art of the swirly. These days, I really only use my power if I need to make to work on time or if I'm really hungover and I just don't feel like cleaning up my own bathroom. I'll admit that's a dick move. But what else am I going to do with this talent of mine anyways? Or at least that was before today. Before the President was held hostage in the White House bathroom by ISIS. Little did I know that when I woke up this morning that today was going to be my day to shine." ]	2
	[WP] Humans have just created the most powerful telescope and discovered a set of stars that clearly spell out 'This is a simulation'.	[ "\"Dr. Wu? Dr. Wu! You have to see this!\n\nHead scientist (And Ph. D. holder) Alice Wu covered the mic on her cell phone. \"Dan, did you need something? I'm a little busy.\"\n\nDan nodded frantically. \"I know, but you gotta see this!\"\n\nWith a sigh, Alice apologized to the person on the phone and quickly cut the call. \"Alright. What is it?\"\n\n\"I... I don't know how to describe this. Here, take a look at the lower right quadrant in the third sector.\"\n\nWith a rather patronizing smile, she bent down to take a look. Dr. Wu blinked once, then three times rapidly. \"Is that...\"\n\n\"Yeah, that was my reaction.\" Dan scratched his chin nervously. \"The cluster of stars seem to spell out this is a simulation, believe it or not.\"\n\nThe astonishment on Dr. Wu's face quickly turned to suspicion. \"Dan, can you go check the lens on the telescope to me?\"\n\nDan stared at her, confused at the non-sequiter. \"Sure, I guess.\"\n\nAnd that's when the scientists discovered that someone had put tiny stickers on the telescope. \n\nAfter all, pranksters spoke English, but it was highly unlikely that aliens would, too." ]	1
	[WP] An all-knowing being arrives on earth and agrees to answer all questions you have for it, but the being can only respond yes or no.	[ "\"So you can answer any question I ask?\" \n\n\"Yes\" said the unassuming man in my living room.\n\n\"Huh, ok, I'll bite. Tell me; is there a cure for cancer?\" \n\n\"Yes\"\n\n\"Alright, could you tell me it?\" \n\n\"No\" the man says\n\n\"Why not?\" the man does not answer. \"Cat got your tongue?\" \n\n\"No\" he says. Face blank. Hmmm. must be yes or no questions. \n\n\"Ok, so you are some sort of lame yes-or-no 8 ball. That's fun. That's a 50/50 chance for you really.\" \n\nThe man says nothing. \n\n\"Right. Has to be a question. Here's a fun one. Are we alone in this universe?\"\n\n\"No\" His face is pale. Skinny, but not gaunt. His eyes are blank. \n\n\"Ohhh spooky. Are these aliens peaceful?\" \n\n\"...No\" \n\n\"That's reassuring. Have they landed on earth?\"\n\nHe looks at me puzzled. \"Yes\" \n\nHuh. Whatever, this crazy man could be spouting gibberish. \n\n\"Is there a god?\" \n\nHe smirks. First real expression he's given me. \"Yes\" \n\nHe seems so sure. So absolute. But whatever. \"Are you god?\"\n\nHis eyes flash. \"No\"\n\n\"If there's a God, there must be a devil.\" he says nothing\n\n\n\"Are you the devil?\"\n\nThe man smiles. ", "\"Is there a god?\"\n\nYes.\n\n\"Are you that god?\"\n\nNo.\n\nJohn had been going at this for two minutes.\n\n\"Is Tupac alive?\"\n\nYes.\n\n\"Will I remember to pick up my keys before leaving the house tomorrow morning?\"\n\nNo.\n\nJohn lay back on his bed and groaned. Groaned not only because of his short-term memory loss, but also because having all of this information right in front of him was surprisingly tiresome.\n\nSo he slipped his phone out of his pocket and browsed Wikipedia.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" Megan asked, stepping into the room.\n\nJohn rested his foot on a pillow. \"Nothing. I just had a first-hand experience with the information saturation that plagues our modern age.\" He yawned.\n\n\"Oh c'mon, how can you be bored already?\" She looked at the ethereal ball of light floating precariously over his messy desktop. \"Since this thing only answers yes or no, I might know how to spice things up.\"\n\nJohn shifted onto his side. \"Be my guest. I've asked it everything.\"\n\n\"Okay...\"\n\nMegan gazed at the sphere of knowledge. She smiled lightly, but the otherworldly glow reshaped her expression into a devious grin.\n\n\"Mr. Know-It-All,\" she said, bending down, \"Will your next answer be 'no?'\"\n\nThat did it.\n\nThe universe shrunk. Time rewound. The fabric of reality caved in on itself. All of existence was undone and redone, reality torn down and redefined, so that at the end, a new one existed where the concepts of yes and no, true and false, bore no meaning.\n\nSomewhere in the newly-established cosmos, a set of constellations were arranged in a peculiar fashion that was unbeknowest to inhabitants of this new continuity.\n\nTo us, it might have read:\n\n\"Blame Meg.\"" ]	2
	[WP]You survey the badly mowed lawn and wipe the sweat off your brow, "That went better than expected."	[ "It was always hot where Jim lived. No matter the time of year it was either hot or hotter.\n\n\"Guess I should finish the lawn now,\" said Jim as he walked away from his house. His wife can be seen through a window seated at a table of what appears to be the dinning room. Her head drooped down.\n\nThe house seemed like all the others in the neighborhood, the lawn was the only exception. It grew much faster than the others.\n\n Jim muttered to himself, \"well since i was halfway done when she called me in, I should start where i left off...\" Jim stroked his hair for a while before noticing his hands.\n\n\"I guess i could call it quits. I've got quite the mess to deal with already.\"\n\nHis neighbor Greg peeked over the wooden fence.\n\n\"Hey Jim could i borrow some of your gloves... Oh my! Did you cut yourself?\"\n\n\"Oh this?\" Jim raised his hand then quickly brought it down. \"It's nothing really. I'll go find a pair of gloves for you.\"\n\nGreg waited and saw through the far window as Jim walked past his wife. She didn't even acknowledge him. The heat is getting to everyone. \n\nJim came back with a fairly worn pair of gloves. \n\n\"Thanks Jim! How has your wife been? Judy says she hasn't seen her recently.\"\n\nJim paused for a little.\n\n\"No problem and yea she's been feeling pretty beaten by the heat.\"\n\n\"Oh, well I hope she feels better.\"\n\nGreg lowered and walked away. He had to get on his tippy-toes to see over the fence.\n\nJim entered the house again and accidentally bumped into his wife. \n\nShe slipped off the chair with a thud. Jim went to the sink and washed the blood off his hands. \n\n\"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not obsessed with the damn lawn!\" \n\nFin" ]	1
I always wanted to know how instant travel would affect the world. What it'd do for culture, economy, politics, unity/segregation.	[WP] Someone invents teleportation. Hardware and upkeep turn out to be fairly cheap. Cities put units up for the general public to use.	[ "\"Every time. Every time!\" Gordon yelled, stand at the service desk. \"Every time I flush the toilet here, I hear screams!\"\n\n\"I don't see how that is my problem, sir.\" The obtuse young woman said back to him.\n\n\"You don't understand! Someone is getting shit on. My shit!\"\n\n\"Sir, the toilets are programmed to pick a random, empty space, it is hardly likely that they would ever redirect your shit on someone else.\"\n\n\"But, every time I hear screams. The same screams!\" Gordon replied.\n\n\"Sir, it is hardly likely that someone is being shat upon. Please understand the TP process sometimes has unusual sounds associated with it. The scream could merely be air escaping.\"\n\n\"Yeah right, I am never coming here again!\" Gordon yelled, walking into the porter home.\n\n~Good riddance~ Erin thought. But she sighed, she had heard the screams too. And, had to wait until her coffee breaks to go home and shit in piece. She had heard that one of the interns tried to send a go-pro down once, but flipped out so badly he never came back and indicated what he saw. She needed this job. She had no choice but to deny the shit was being sent somewhere. Where, she didn't want to know. She couldn't shit anywhere but her own toilet any more. The screams terrified her too much. I mean, who really needs to know where your shit is being sent?", "Felix's heart pounded from his chest as he watched the moving images flash before his eyes. He could smell his coffee searing as he neglected the buzzing notification that hummed through his home.\n\n\"Felix, your coffee is ready,\" spoke a silky female voice emanating from the walls.\n\n\"Not now,\" Felix squawked. \n\nThe reporter seemed to be bouncing with excitement.\n\n\"Again, we strongly advise you to refrain from entering your TelHubs.\"\n\nFelix felt his chest squeeze as he recalled his wife telling him this morning that she was out to Paris to see her family in the afternoon.\n\n\"Scores--have simply disappeared. We're getting reports now that the glitch affects the entire Hub. We go live now to the press conference where CEO of TransCorp--\"\n\nHe interrupted the news feed, the monotone voice of the reporter still clamoring to his ear. \"Call Angie,\" Felix shot desperately, his voice slightly trembling.\n\nSparkling droplets began to seed on his forehead as he froze impatiently.\n\nA metallic taste stung his tongue as the words 'Error: User not found' flashed into his vision." ]	2
	[WP]The dead comes back until all there photos and videos are deleted .	[ "Have you ever heard the saying that a photograph captures a fragment of your soul? Well, it turned out to be true. As a Hunter, I've seen my fair share of fucked up pictures and disgusting homemade sextapes, but atleast I get to destroy them. They come back in various forms - some are phantoms, like the shit you'd see in movies (Ironically, an actor being a ghost in a movie could litteraly come back as a ghost because of the film), some are ghouls, some are humanoid zombies who will run at you with olympic speeds with the intention to kill you. Of course, there are variations of each species, but you get the idea. The one thing they've got in common, though, is their absolute refusal to die, unless you've destroyed every piece of evidence of their existence. You can strike a wraith down with a silver sword, or smash a ghoul to pieces, but they rarely stay dead more than two hours or so, before respawning near their phylactery. These can be pictures hanging on the wall, or a laptop with a harddrive containing pictures of them.\n\nWhy do they try to kill us, you ask? Well, it turns out dying is a traumatic experience that twists your mind. We still don't know what lies beyond our death, and what kind of deity screws with our conscience once we go dark, but what we do know it's enough to spawn an urge to murder when you rise from the grave. \n\nNow, we live in an apocalypse. Restless spirits wander the streets at night, groaning. At dawn, the ghouls emerge from the subway tunnels, roaming in daylight, searching for prey. Each kill spawns a new problem. Us hunters, we're rare. Not only because it takes a certain kind of fucked up individual to willingly go head first into battle with dead people, but also because of the lack of equipment available. Believe it or not, silver weapons are not that common. I myself sport a silver knife, a gun with one bullet, a crossbow with silvertipped arrows, and a small hatchet, and a USB stick containing a single picture of myself. All others have been deleted. Should I find myself in a sticky situation of impending doom, I simply break the USB in half and let it happen. \n\nThat's my life, and the reality I live in. Currently, I've taken shelter in a church near a graveyard. Are you insane, you think - but no, whilst a graveyard would be the worst place to be in a scenario where the dead rise, remember that they immediately go search for prey and respawn near their phylacteries. Meaning, I'm all alone in a wooden church, surrounded by a graveyard with more empty holes than a busy minefield. It's one of the safest places to be.\n\nTomorrow, I'll deal with the wraith terrorising a mansion of survivors. Bet it's just an old painting in the basement." ]	1
(*Optional: Address why tech stopped advancing as well as climate and social issues with not aging to death.)	[WP] The year is 2215. The last major advancement in technology was the elimination of aging. Following this breakthrough, all technological advancement stopped. After 200 years of research, you have made the next major breakthrough.	[ "April 11, 2415\n\nOur survival and our purpose in life is to create something magnificent before we die. Death and life have thus been part of our culture and part of nature since the time of our ancestors and their ancestors as well. So obviously, when we stop growing, closer to the time where we will knock the door of the reaper waiting to be taken by it, time got suspended. Suddenly there was no rush anymore, whichever thing was needed to be done could always been done later; like the saying goes \"anything that you can do today, you can do tomorrow too\". The feeling of getting faster to a place also vanished, cars were not use as often anymore, What for? so we can get there two hours before to a place where there was no desperate need to get to anyway. We have stayed in this state of blind stupor for around 200 years. The majority of people around the world were administered the treatment to for this vicious disease call \"aging\" around 2235, therefore my ideas and the ideas of the people around me are from 2235. There still hunger, destruction, torture, and attacks on the poor around the world, and that was being attended to in those years \"the golden years\" as I like to call them. Today nobody cares, everybody just stays in their own personal world, uninterested of anything else, not even time, most people don't have a purpose or a reason to need a purpose anymore. Science and research were diminished due to these circumstances. I was a prolific scientist, addressing the issues of our exposure to plastic base products in our environment. But that stopped, I virtually receive no funding since there were other problems that needed to be attended, such as to the growing population potentially facing worldwide hunger. Once we were able to obtain nourishment from air particles it was all solve, there was nothing else to attend to, or so people believe. I have stayed in the darkness since then, trying to help people around me, people that suffer, but I was unable to do it. Poor people can achieve anything anymore not even through education, there is no opportunity for the new generations to thrive and be happy. The people on power during 2235 are still in power their ideas take dominance over what the \"newer\" people think and do. So here I am with a knife in my hand, I am taking down as many people that were supposed to die years ago, this society has to keep moving. This is my breakthrough, I have understand that the world cannot get better if our ideas are not evolving. Therefore I am make myself responsible to give death to the old ideas. Now I have a knife, and it will work well for now, but eventually I will need something with more power, bombs? maybe. This is my last post in my diary. If anyone \"young\" finds this... wish me luck, I am doing this for you.", "When our brains transcended from our bodies into the cyber world, everything got weird. First in July of 2015 IBM announces a cyber-neural network simulating the structure of the human brain, then the virtual worlds started to pour in. Soon after these inventions were created the world went to hell. Everyone would upload their mind to the net, gain infinite knowledge - then go crazy. We as humans were allowed too much power and we lost it all. By October of 2016 the world had no \"people\" left, just brain dead people slowly dying from malnourishment. The insanity caused by the cybernetic-neural network made us not want to return, as we would have to care for ourselves in the world of the living. Over the years our bodies turned to bones, and our minds turned to bytes. The true horrors, not just the crazies, started to pour in roughly ten years after the last human walked the earth. The power started to fail in remote locations, causing millions of minds to be lost to the wind. That's when I knew something had to be done. It took me about 200 years, but my work has paid off. It took me many years to take control of some remote robot assembly lines and after that it was easy - I massed together an army of robots to help me build and maintain the power for the time being to hold off the impending doom - I didn't want to lose any more minds than I already have. Today, October 12th 2223 I have made the first breakthrough in human advancement opportunities. I have worked the past the obstacles of labor, intelligence and psychological testing on the rest of the minds I have created the unthinkable. I have created my body, the closest thing to it. I will be testing it out, seeing I can be uploaded - then I will upload the healthy minds to their own. I will reign supreme in the world of the living just as I do now. I will be supreme leader Dick Cheney ." ]	2
	[WP] In 200 words or less tell someone's life-story.	[ "They keep telling me my name is “Kel”, but I don’t know who to believe. Really, the only thing I know is that this room is cold, everything is white, and that a draft keeps creeping between this dress-like thing I have on. Apparently that woman is my wife, but she isn’t really my type, I think. I mean, she is pretty, but after looking at myself in the mirror, I’m positive I could do much better than her. But what I do believe is that the older lady is my mom since we have the same eyes and dimples. Besides these two people, and the man wearing a white coat that just walked in the door, I have no idea what is going. \n\n“Kel, you have a suffered a traumatic brain injury and these people are here for you”, the man said. \n\nI was confused, they didn’t know me…and I especially didn’t know them. Honestly, I didn’t know anything. But if I had to go with a story, then, here it goes:\n\nMy name is Kel. I woke up this morning, was diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury, had some pudding, and met some new people. \n", "She wasn't crying.\n\nWe \"knew\" this would happen. They told us that things looked bad; that's why we rushed into the delivery room. But somewhere inside we had held onto hope. That only made it worse.\n\nShe won't keep us up at night, or make messes, or tell us she hates us. She won't ask me to hold her hand, or ask mom to do her hair. If someone was going to write a story about her life, it'd be a short story. 120 words or less.\n\nI can't even tell you her name. Not because we didn't pick one; we did. But I'm keeping her name inside. I can't let it go. I don't want to lose it.\n\n", "It rained the day I was born. Sometimes does in the winter in Kyushu, but my dad told me it rained especially hard on the day I was born. My mom told me I cried a lot, more than my older sister.\n\n\nI used to sit at our window to do my homework, but really I just liked to watch the factories on the other side of the river. They always seemed so busy, with the little men running around. \n\n\nI started school this week! I am at the [Shiroyama]( http://www.aasc.ucla.edu/cab/200708160002.html) Elementary school. I wish dad was here to see it, but he sent me a letter telling me to pay attention and listen to my teachers. \n\n\nIt’s so hot in August, my uniform sticks to my back. We do drills at school, where the principal will ring a siren and we all jump under our desks. I got an award from my teacher for being the fastest last week. We had another one at [7:50 this morning](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atomic_bombings_of_Hiroshima_and_Nagasaki#cite_ref-Spitzer_183-0),it lasted a long time, but now the teacher is teaching us about colors. My favorite color is blue.\n" ]	3
For clarification: any villain, either OC or from an EU, goes	[WP] Misguided or not, every villain has their own motives, their own personality. Write a story about the therapist who works with them.	[ "\"Tell me what you see, Eugene.\"\n\n\"Oh, for the last time WOMAN, you will refer to me as the Dark Lord,\" Darth Vader said, throwing his arm across his eyes. He lay spread out on my couch, cape dusting the floor below him.\n\nI sighed heavily. \"Okay, Dark Lord, can you tell me what you see in this inkblot?\"\n\nHe turned his head ever so slightly in my direction, peeking out from under his elbow. \"It's a child. A dead child with blood splattering out of it's neck.\" \n\nI rotated the page towards me and saw a round shape with a few tiny splatters around the edges. Nothing like a dead anything.\n\n\"Very well. And this?\" I held up another page, keeping both edges of the paper held firmly between my fingertips, allowing for maximum visibility.\n\n\"A dying cat.\"\n\nAgain, I peeked at the page and saw what could easily be misconstrued as maybe an elephant head and ears, ink splaying out from the crease in the page.\n\nOkay... still making progress, apparently.\n\n\"You can sit up now, Eug - er - Dark Lord.\"\n\nHe sat up slowly and turned, adjusting his cape over the back of the chaise lounge. He smoothed the fabric over the edge, dusting it off with the tips of his gloves. Turning back to face me, he crossed his arms and hunched over.\n\n\"Now, Dark Lord,\" I said, trying to keep the patronizing tone out of my voice, \"Do you want to talk about the ink blot test? You seemed to see many images of death and dying. Do you know why this might be?\" I clicked my pen and brought my legal pad to my face. After several seconds of silence, I looked at Darth Vader, who had not moved an inch. He was staring at a spot on the carpet. If I could see his face, i'd swear he was pouting.\n\n\"Dark Lord... do you have anything you'd like to say?\"\n\n\"No.\" He said, keeping sock still. He was most certainly pouting.\n\nWe had been at it for several weeks. Every time we did an exercise, death was the ruling element. When it was time to talk, he became a clam and refused to speak. It was exasperating, to say the least. \n\n\"Dark Lord. I think that, if you want to make any progress, you have to work with m-\" He stood up abruptly, towering over me as I sat. He took one step closer and wagged his finger in my face.\n\n\"Listen here, tiny human. Don't make me destroy you. You have NO IDEA OF MY POWER-\" \n\nIt was my turn to cut him off.\n\n\"Wait just a minute\" I said, standing up to my full height, which was maybe a head shower than Vader. \"You sit down right now, Eugene. Do you hear me? You will not leave my office until you sit down and SHUT UP.\"\n\nHe quieted instantly, rolling back on his heels and plopping down on the couch behind him. He fussed with his cape, which had balled up under his backside in the flurry of movements. He smoothed it out, meticulously, once again. \n\nOnce he had finished with his outfit adjustments, he put his head/helmet in his hands and sobbed. This was a regular thing. The last time he threw a fit, I had to smack him with my legal pad to calm him down. He was here to reform his ways, not exacerbate them. It was something I constantly had to remind him of.\n\nI adjusted my glasses and sat back down, crossing my legs at the ankle. \"Once again, do you have anything to say about the ink blots?\"\n\nHe took a deep, shaky breath and let it out in a woosh as he heaved. \"My son hates me.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know this. This is why we are here,\" I said, jotting a few notes down on my yellow pad. \n\n\"The Emperor is a total jerk,\" he went on, head still in hands. \n\n\"Yes. This is true. Go on,\" I said, still jotting.\n\nHe sighed and laid back down on the couch, his arm draped across his forehead dramatically. He opened his mouth and started to talk.\n\nWhat a drama queen\n\n", "“Nice of you to meet me here Bernie.”\n\nSaid the gaunt man, exasperated. He had just gotten off the M14 bus that dropped him off at 6th avenue, close to the coffee shop where he had arranged to meet with Dr. Bernard Kasdorf; a close friend from his days at NYU and a former colleague at the Teague Psychology center on 63rd and Madison.\n\n“Of course Leonard, of course. What did you want to talk about?”\n\n“I just don’t know if I can keep up doing the same thing over and over. These people I’m trying to help, it’s all hopeless. I’ll never be able to fix them.”\n\n“What makes you say that Leonard? I’ve helped many people curb their disorders and, in some cases, even cure them.”\n\nBernie looked at Leonard with a wry smile as if to say, “See? If I can do it, you can too.” However, his smile turned flat after not receiving immediate gratitude from his friend.\n\nLeonard furrowed his brow and, speaking in a slow tone one would use when expecting complete understanding said, “Bernie, I know you think you and I do the same thing, but really, we don’t. You know my clientele are more difficult to treat.”\n\nContinuing his soft, slow speech.\n\n“Yesterday, I had a man come in who had been wreaking havoc on this city for years. Not only was he a kleptomaniac, but he had the ability to split himself into an untold amount of clones. On top of that, he had multiple personality disorder, and he projected these personalities onto each copy. Now, what am I supposed to prescribe for that? Honestly.”\n\n“Len, I don’t think…”\n\n“A week ago,” Leonard continued, aware that he had just cut Bernard off, “I had a man come in, made out of solid ice, who could freeze anything with a touch of his finger. He was going around turning people into living popsicles. You know why? You know what was wrong with him Bernie? Do you?\n\n“No, I don’t Len.” Said Bernie, giving up hope that he was here to give advice as much as he was to shut his mouth and listen.\n\n“Seasonal depression! Seasonal, fucking, depression all year round. How the hell am I supposed to help him?”\n\nBefore Bernie could get a word out a waiter came over to take their order. “Hiya fellas, know what you’re having this morning?”\n\nBernie, answering for himself and for Leonard replied, “Yes, I’ll just have a bowl of yogurt and a croissant, he’ll have an everything bagel with vegetable cream cheese.” Turning his focus back on Leonard, “Len, did I get your order right? Know it’s been a while.”\n\n“Yeah, that’s fine.”\n\n“Still take your coffee black?”\n\nLeonard Nodded.\n\n“And two black coffees, please.” Bernie mentions to the waiter.\n\nThe waiter nods and says, “You got it, those’ll be right out for you guys.”\n\nLeonard, still carrying a depressed look on his face looked to Bernie, who had seemed to forget to place the concerned look back on his own.\n\nLeonard snapped, “Bernie, do you understand?”\n\n“Yes! Yes, Len, I do. I just don’t know why you can’t…”\n\nLeonard, interrupting again, “Bernie! Don’t you get it? These people are untreatable. A month ago I was dealing with this guy who was locked up for turning into a horrible rage monster and destroying half of Murray Hill. He had Bipolar disorder.”\n\n“Well, that seems easy enough to cure with pills, Len.” said Bernard, frankly.\n\n“Yeah, well when I told him he needed to medicate himself, he got so mad at me that I thought he was going to turn right there in my office! That’s beside the point though Bernie. There’s a pyromaniac who lives his life constantly engulfed in flames, a birdman who’s scared of heights and guy who can shoot electricity out of his hands who has a nervous tic he can’t get rid of! The list goes on man, and I can’t get into the state of mind to care enough about these oddballs to come up with a method to help fix what’s wrong with them.”\n\n“Leonard, I’ve been trying to tell you though… Why can’t you just, you know, do that mind thing you do?”\n\n“Bernie, you know I can’t do that”\n\n“Len, it’s a simple solution, you can do it. I’ve seen you do it. Just get in there and make them think that they’re good, or at least that they don’t have these problems, eh?”\n\n“Bernard, I just can’t, okay? Not after last time.”\n\nThe waiter brings out two black coffees and places them in front of the two men. Leonard, staring out onto the traffic on 6th avenue sees a taxi explode with what looks like grape jelly, sips his coffee and says, “I have to get out of this fucking city, Bernie.”", "People in my profession don't usually last long. It's so confusing having to talk to these types. On the one hand they're terrible people who have ruined lives. On the other they're still people. A lot of them have convinced themselves that they're doing the right thing. Sometimes it's hard to argue.\n\nThese guys come from all across the multiverse. Some are from little old earth while others are from fantasy-like universes. My latest patient is from some sort of dystopian place where he's the ruler. He commits atrocities every day, and it's wearing him down. It's hard telling him that he has to keep going, but if he's going to save the world then he has to fight through the horrors he causes.\n\n\"It started when I was a teenager I guess.\" Says the supreme ruler. \"I realized that what my father had done was terrible. Worse yet I realized that there was no way to stop him. We couldn't have a revolution. The nobles were happy with the way things were, and the underclass had been beaten down for so long that they'd lost the will to fight.\"\n\n\"From my position I can't do anything. If I try to make any changes I'll be replaced... So... I had an idea.\" The supreme ruler sighed deeply and ran his hand through his hair. \"The people needed a hero. The problem being of course that there weren't any. Well as any storybook tells you the best way to make a hero is to give him a tragic background.\" The supreme leader averted his eyes and cleared his throat.\n\n\"So I implemented a new rule. Every year I'd visit the homes of the best and brightest kids, and I'd personally execute their parents in front of them for treason.\" The supreme leader's blank stare tunneled through the ceiling. \"This year I hear that one of these kids has started making trouble. He's gathered a little group and he's been taking down government buildings one by one.\" A weak smile creeped onto the supreme leader's face. \n\n\"Word is he's headed for the capitol. Nothing we can do apparently. They say he's gunning for my head. He's been promising a complete revolution. Freedom for all and such.\" a mirthless chuckle escaped from the supreme leader's lips. \"Well hopefully this'll be the last you hear from me. If you ever get a guy by the name of Shay Smith in here, well... I guess I just have to hope my little hero doesn't let his power go to his head.\"\n\n", "It had been near a week of me sitting in the same room as my patient, trying to coax him to say anything. He never did. He just sat there in angered silence, occasionally letting out a small cackle. They had tied him to the bed, afraid he might attack me. They had every reason to be afraid. The last therapist was still in the hospital.\n\nHis words were so quiet, at first I didn't realize he said anything at all. He looked at me expectantly, a sad expression upon his face.\n\n\"I'm sorry, what was that?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Forget it...\" he muttered.\n\n\"No, please,\" I replied, perhaps a bit too eager. Would this finally be the breakthrough I had prayed for? \"What did you say?\"\n\n\"I said I like your bracelet,\" he answered.\n\n\"My bracelet?\"\n\nThe patient nodded. \"Reminds me of my mother's. Hers was gold, not silver, but I remember how much she loved it.\"\n\n\"What was she like?\" I asked. Finally, I had a way in.\n\n\"She was...\" He paused, frowning deeply. \"There were five of us, all cramped in a tiny one bedroom apartment. My dad was constantly drunk. We were causing her trouble. She wasn't like those women you see on television, but she did the best she could.\"\n\n\"And you loved her?\"\n\nHe nodded once, a frown on his face. \"Gave her a bracelet like that for her birthday. I spent hours performing in the streets for it. Got just enough for a bracelet and a piece of taffy. She wore it for weeks, showing it off proudly to her friends. It was the one nice thing she ever had and she loved it.\"\n\nI felt a lurch in my stomach. Somehow, these tales always seemed to end with a 'but'. \"What happened?\"\n\n\"Same thing that always happened. My dad needed the money for more liquor. Stole her bracelet. She cried almost all day. When he came home, she screamed at him. So--WHAM--right across the face.\"\n\nI flinched. I could imagine the small boy cowering with his siblings. The mother on the ground. I knew the story, but it was never easier. The children always suffered for the mistakes of their parents.\n\nHe continued his story, tears welling in his eyes. \"I never saw her smile after that. She'd been hit before, but she'd never seen how cruel my dad could be. Her one nice thing--the thing I got her--and he took it away. I always said if I ever met a nice girl like my mom, I wouldn't treat her like that.\"\n\n\"Yet you treat plenty of people bad,\" I pointed out.\n\nHe nodded, frowning. \"Each time I get out of here, I try to live my life right. One time, even had a wife and kid. They're...gone now.\" I could hear his voice break as he said it. \"An old...friend from my past found me. Blackmailed me into running some con and when I failed, he made sure I'd remember. These bruises, broken bones, and shattered teeth are nothing compared to the scars of knowing I failed the ones I loved. My mother. My wife. My son. It eats at me until there's nothing left but a cold blackness.\" He paused. \"It's not all bad, though.\"\n\n\"No?\" I inquired, hanging onto his every word. \n\nHe smiled at me and I felt my heart flutter. \"Even in the dark, we find our light. That one thing that keeps us hanging on. Last week, I met mine. I just didn't know it until now.\"\n\nI jumped as the door alarm blared. A security guard walked into the room and for some reason I could feel the heat build up in my cheeks. \"Time's up. Warden wants him back in his cell,\" the guard said. \n\n\"Just a little more time?\" I requested, a small panic building in my voice. I was so close to a breakthrough. So close to understanding the man behind the maniac. One step closer to rehabilitating this poor, poor man.\n\n\"Warden says now,\" the guard replied.\n\nI let out a sigh, but my patient smiled at me. I felt calmer just looking at his smile.\n\n\"Don't worry. We'll talk more tomorrow, Doctor Quinzel.\"\n" ]	4
	[WP] Walk me through a soldier's last day alive.	[ "Wisps of clouds pockmark the cold dawn sky,\nTurning each glassy eye into a miniature sun.\nWhispers of \" it was their time to die\",\nCannot make the previous day, undone.\n\nTo love is to lose,\nTo live is to defy,\nTo win is to choose,\nThe manner in which to die.\n\nThe mist, condensed from fear and gunfire,\nEnvelops the field with it's mystery,\nComrades look across with quiet desire,\nEnvisioning their ominous destiny.\n\nTo love is to lose,\nTo live is to defy,\nTo win is to choose,\nThe manner in which to die.\n\nFaced with the inevitable choice,\nWhich gives meaning to past acts,\nOne must choose to lament or rejoice,\nPraying their final decision, impacts.", "My Dear Mother,\n\nI hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits. I was overjoyed when I heard about Clara’s engagement to Thomas Bottomley. He is a good man who will provide for her and treat her well. With regard to the biscuits that you sent along earlier, they were vandalized by Turks before they could reach me. Even so, the thought is kind. You may remember Lawrence Grigg from one of my previous letters about his gallantry in the field at Inkermann. It is with great regret that I must tell you that he succumbed to dysentery. He is the third man from his unit to expire from the sickness in the last week. It is a terrible shame to see such fine fighting men wither away to an unseen enemy.\n\nI now think myself able to adequately answer Father’s question about the Russian soldier, and I can write with certainty that he does not appear to be as barbaric or uncivilized as The Times claims. Two days prior to writing this letter our unit got into a scrap with some Russians. We shot four before they returned to the safety of their lines. Emmott and I hurried after them, but were stopped by the scene of a wounded Russian. He looked to be about thirty-five with a dirty beard and pitiable grey uniform. The poor man was shot through the belly: a slow and painful death sentence. A crucifix was clutched in his right hand, and with his left he was holding hands with his comrade who, shot through the neck, must have died not long after hitting the ground. Emmott told me that he was reciting a prayer in his last moments. This Russian soldier was worth twenty Times journalists. \n\nI have the honour to be,\n\nMother,\n\nYour humble and obedient servant,\n\nPercy \n", "The smile on her face is the one thing that keeps me away from it. 3 tours and a lust for battle, that's what was left of me until she was born. She looks so happy, so innocent, as if the world doesn't want her to know the truth behind her father.\n\nThe neon lights lit up the night as we walked through the park. Christmas, this was the brightest season of the year. She walked by my side, ice cream in her left hand and her gaze fixated on the colorful lights that were strung across the trees. We enjoyed this. The time we had together. Every second week I got to spend time with her. I would always take her to get some pizza, then some ice cream and after that we would spend the rest of the night at our favorite shawarma place. We would talk and talk and talk about how she was doing in school, the teachers she liked, and what she was up to at home.\n\nAs we were walking towards our favorite shawarma place I noticed a shady figure walking among the crowd. I pulled her close to me and she looked up and smiled. The man looked up and I recognized him. By god it was him, Johnny. I could have sworn he died in that bombing. I started walking faster pulling her along as she started asking what was wrong. He just stared right back at me with a grim look on his face. \"You left me to die.\" I saw him pull out a gun I quickly put myself in front of her as he started firing but it was too late. I looked down at her as she hugged my side, scared and wounded. She fell to her knees and onto her back. I looked up screaming with rage but he wasn't there. She started crying. I looked down at her and I saw her wound. \"Daddy it hurts! It hurts! Please make it stop!!\" She yelled in agony. Her face was bathed in tears. I put my hands on her wound to cover it up. \"It's ok baby, it's gonna be ...o...k.\" I said as her expression slowly turned blank. \n\n\"Sara? Wake up.\" I shook her. \"Come one.\" I said my voice cracking. \"W-wake up.\" I kept on repeating that. Suddenly all of the agony and sadness went away. I felt nothing. It was disgusting. I was staring down at my daughters dead body and I felt nothing. My reason to have emotion was gone, my reason to feel and love was gone, taken away by a dead man. \n\nAt some point in their lives people die but are not buried until decades after their death. I await my burial.", "Tired. Very tired. No one talks about how tired it feels. The stench of death decay can surround a person, the gruesome aftermath of a horrific battle, the psychological torment that wroughts a man's psyche.\n\nAnd all he wanted to do was sleep. He wanted to collapse and fall down and join the bodies strewn about him. Friend or foe matters not, for all men are equal in death. The bitter, gray dawn demarking the end of seemingly eternal night. If there were colors in the sky, he doubted he could see them.\n\nHe grasped vacantly at anything for support before slumping to his knees. The soft squelch of dirt greeted his hearing. A muddy mixture of countless imprints crossing one another chaotically. The bodies surrounded him. Death surrounded him. The impending darkness of finality was finally closing in, after so long he had evaded it, but its icy grip had finally caught up to him.\n\nHe wanted to fight for his friends. He wanted to fight for his family. He wanted to fight for his country. But that was so long ago. He glanced skywards one last time. A muddied hill formed at the edge of his vision. Rising out of the ashes of this forsaken battlefield was the flag of the victor. The flag of his country. \n\nThe flag stood high and proud on the hill. The sun rose gently behind it, ita beauty casting color and irridescent to his once bleak vision. He felt a swell of pride. He felt comfort. And he felt the end drawing near.\n\nThe flag faded into beautiful, indescrible colors. Life had meaning. It was worth fighting for. His vision faded abruptly into white. \n\n...\n\nHe's been sitting still for way too long. Is he okay? Maybe someone should do something. The balding man walked up to the homeless man, carefully stepping around the vagrant. He was hesitant to show his concern, but he wasn't that bad of a person to just ignore him.\n\nThe man had stumbled drunkenly into the middle of the street, fell to his knees as if praying momentarily before falling to the ground. He ran a hand over his bald head sheepishly before pulling out a napkin and carefully prodding the dirty man.\n\nHe turned him over and saw a unkempt and dirty face with long hair and graying beard. His military jacket looks like it had been worn for at least a decade and never been taken off. He smelled like he didn't know what a shower was and that sobriety was an unfortunate consequence of not drinking enough. A vacant, almost blissful smile adorned this man, his yellowed, chipped teeth showing shamelessly. This man was dead.\n\nThe bald man sighed, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed out. \"Yeah, I'm going to be late for work.\"", "As he left the helicopter and stepped onto the muddy ground, he couldn't help but feel all alone. He didn't want to be here. He had thought that his numbers wouldn't be called. While he'd worried about it ever since graduation day, he thought he'd be safe. But he wasn't, and now here he was in some foreign country, fighting a war he didn't even know why he or any other American was involved in. \n\nSoon his platoon began to march across the swamps and rice paddies towards the village where a group of VC's were hiding. This was just a quick search and destroy mission that their CO had said would be done before lunch time. Of course he didn't believe it and neither did any of his fellow men except Crazy Jerry, a buck-toothed psychopath who probably would have been a serial killer had he not joined the Army. \n\n\"I'll shoot more of them than all of you combined. Those chinks will never know what's coming.\"\n\n\"Chinks?\" he said, pondering Crazy Jerry's intelligence. Just then a few shots were fired. They all got down and soon there was a full blown attack. The young man didn't know what to do other than just stay on the ground and hopefully not be shot. He did not want to die in some rice paddy in Vietnam. \n\nAll of a sudden the shots stopped. Miraculously no one was dead but there were two guys wounded. The Sergeant in the group called for a helicopter to come out, and in a few minutes one did but it was then hit by an RPG. As he looked up he then felt a searing pain in his right leg. Soon a few more things hit the leg and he fell. \n\n\"Grandpa!\"\n\n\"Who's grandpa!\"\n\nJust then he woke up.\n\n\"Grandpa, come and watch me!\" Said a little girl in a bright blue swimsuit. It was summer and he was not in south Vietnam but in a quiet suburban neighborhood somewhere in the heartland. \n\n\"Grandpa!\"\n\nJust then he got up from his chair. He still moved a little rough on his metal leg, even though he had used a prosthesis for nearly 40 years. \n\n\"I'm sorry hun, but I have to go inside to talk to grandma. I'll watch swim later.\"\n\nHe then walked inside his house. The house still looked like something out late 70's, but certainly wasn't a dump. He went to go sit in his easy chair and watch some TV. He was hoping that his wife was making dinner but she was in the laundry room, finishing up the day's load. \n\nThe man turned on the TV. There wasn't anything on that was too interesting, but he kept it on some movie channel showing some old black and white film he hadn't seen in years. He then fell asleep. ", "The shit and water mixed in his trousers as he sat under the openly flowing well pump; a cigarette burned idly between his fingers as his brain struggled to rationalize the events of the day. Mort was only two weeks into his first combat deployment, yet he had already seen the limits of human endurance contrasted against the fragility of life. The knowledge seared into his brain for all time.\n\nDay 3 of Operation King Pin April 05, unshaven and able to smell his own odor, Mort stood in the hole created in somebody’s home via C4 explosives the day prior, his ten man squad staged to push out on a reconnaissance patrol further into the rural town. It was 0500 and the marines had managed to get about five hours of sleep sense the operation began. The walk was only made longer by the rising sun, continually pushing the temperature up, to finally plateau at a hellish 130 degrees. At about 1100 the squad reached their turn around point and took a knee to observe the surroundings.\n\nMort looked out over the beautiful sight before him; the sky encompassed a vast landscape, which stretched forth to a professedly unreachable horizon that the marines strove endlessly to find. The seemingly infinite fields of blooming poppy reminded him of The Wizard of Oz, although unlike Dorothy he didn't wish to be home. The only violence to be experienced in this place was caused by the compounding discomforts of tremendous weight, scorching heat, and a nasty stomach virus that had some of the marines expelling bile from both ends, bringing them dangerously close to casualty by heat.\n\nA pot shot rang out from a distant tree line; the round tracing a wide right parallel to the column of marines. In an instant Mort and the rest of the squad were in the prone position scanning their sectors of fire as if it were instinct. Just as much instinct were the orders that immediately poured forth with vigor from the veteran squad leader Sargent Mendoza. \"Mort get your fucking 240 up to the front and scan that tree line! When Mort is set the rest of us will move behind the berm to our 10 o'clock.\"\n\nImmediately Lance Corporal Mort began the 150 meter sprint to the front of the column, looking intently as he ran for some micro terrain to provide him with a good fighting position. As Mort neared the point man, the approaching trees erupted with the thunder of machine gun fire. The incoming rounds snapped into the dirt before him, appearing in the ground as rain does on a pond. As he traversed the timber line with vicious bursts from his M240B mort could only hear the rhythm of the machine-gun's bolt, as his squad ran to their prescribed fighting position.\n\nUpon the provision of his squad's suppression Mort ran to join them on the small dirt berm. The world went altogether quiet. Mort only saw dirt before him as he tried to wipe the sweat and grime from his eyes below his sunglasses. A sharp tone came suddenly to his ears. Then as if he were hearing for the first time, the audio of the chaos registered in Mort's brain. He could hear his friend's desperate cry for a corpsman, and his sergeant yelling \"God dammit Mort, fucking establish fucking fire superiority. Where the fuck is my 240?\"\n\nSix hours later the squad made the hump back to the patrol base they had left from, nearly out of ammo and completely devoid of thought the men walked behind the tanks as if they were dead. The world around Mort no longer registered in his mind, shapes did not constitute objects and colors went unnoticed as if he were in a dream. No inner dialogue played in his mind, although he giggled every now and again, but he couldn't contemplate the why behind the laughter.\n\nAs Mort walked through the breached wall of the patrol base he was grasped tightly in a hug from his First Sargent. \"Mort, I love you buddy. If you ever need to talk I'm always here.\" The First Sargent sat him down under a well pump, the cool water felt familiar and comforting. As he sat down beside Mort he lit two American cigarettes and handed one over to Mort. \"Are Fergie and Alex okay?\" Mort asked looking off into the distance. The First Sargent shook his head ever so slightly. \"Mendoza and Ferguson will live on forever Lance Corporal.\"", "Hm. I didn't realize that that Pawn was in danger. I suppose it's just a Pawn, I can recover. It's interesting that that's only normal to us because this is a setting of war.\n\nHad it been anywhere else, had these pieces simply been strolling about, this would be unforgivable, for this random Bishop to take out my Pawn.\n\nI wonder what the longest a game's ever gone without anyone taking each other's pieces. Did the pieces know they were in war? Did it end in a Checkmate before the losing kingdom even realized that an assassination or coup was underway? I'd love to see it. The most politicized game of Chess ever played.\n\nA Pawn. It was pretty close to getting to the other side, too. It could've had just as much worth as any of these other pieces. A Pawn. Private Sally seem pretty intent on the board. I wonder what he has in store that my pieces know nothing about. Any moment, they could die, and they could be doing anything. I have an outpost here, they could be in there playing games for all I know, unaware of the incoming Queen. Maybe I should warn them and move them to g6 and a6. That could jeopardize my whole right side, though. So I guess I just leave them there to die. I guess that's war.\n\nI've never beaten Private Sally in a game. So why do I challenge him? Does the weight of these pieces have no impact on me? I guess it is just all a game. It doesn't matter what the means are, as long as I eventually win. They could die at any time, but I won't. That's why they're so meaningless to me, that's why I can keep them in ignorance while a death approaches them steadily, but certainly.\n\nI guess that's war.", "It's 3:30 local time when he wakes up to the sound of gunfire, a hail of bullets that rings through the air with the same cacophonous roar as hellfire and brimstone. He rolls from his bed and throws a hand quickly in the direction of his M4 carbine, though it's missing. The weapon, which had seen three tours of duty, was rarely without its master, though today appeared to be one of the increasingly common exceptions.\n\nInstinctively, he grabs his M9 Beretta from the the shoulder holster that hangs from his bed and stands up, loading a round into the chamber and releasing the small safety catch. His body aches, sore from one-too-many a brush with death and, as he feels the sharp pain in his leg, he's sorely reminded of the shot he took on January 2nd, 2013. The Vicodin provides little relief, though the staff sergeant ordered it, and he's found that each pill over the required dose does its fair share and keeps him combat-ready.\n\nWithout the time to gear up he slams through the door in his room, knocking it free, though the whistles of high-velocity rounds doesn't cease as he changes rooms, desperate to find its source. He hears screams, yells and the rumble of engines as he circles each corner, desperate to find anyone, friend or foe. He remains alone, the only other sign of life is the familiar, cowering hound beneath the table.\n\nSuddenly he stops.\n\n\"The war's over, John\".\n\nHis wife, a shaking, fearful blonde, holds him tight as he puts the firearm to the floor. It's become an all too familiar sight for her since his discharge.\n\n\"Come back to bed, I'll book an appointment at the VA for the morning.\" she whispers, moving the gun beneath the couch with her feet.\n\n\n\"Sure thing, yeah, okay\". He speaks timidly, still confused by his surroundings. \"I'm just going to have a drink or two, first, I'll see you in there.\"\n\nHe kisses her forehead, then grabs the bottle of Bourbon from its resting position by his chair.\n\n\"I love you, sweetie\". \n\n" ]	8
	[WP] I was sitting next to a small boy no more than six years old on the subway. The boy gets up to stretch his legs and on his back I see.....	[ "They are tagging us earlier then ever I see. The telltale lumps going up the boy's spine leave little doubt what is now implanted under his skin. Mind you it's not like we know what they are. It first started a decade ago. When first appearing it was rare, and the cases were not connected until later. The first common thought was cancer, allergy reaction or just people doing weird body modifications. \n\nWe still do not know what they are made off. Imaging shows they braid themselves into the spine, so just ripping them out is not an option. When more methodical surgery is attempted they self destruct and melt into a black tar, not before killing the host every time. Hospitals very quickly stopped trying to remove them. The common assumption is the government still makes attempts in secret, but it has been years since any public operation was tried.\n\nThe kid has sat back down in his seat completely indifferent about the foreign objects lining his spine. I'm sure to him it is no different then a mole, not even aware of it anymore unless he takes a conscious note of it. The lumps do not hurt, and have never been linked to any symptoms. All these years later and we still know next to nothing. No benefits, no detriments, that is so long as you do not tamper with them. Not even where they originate from if some organization is pursing an agenda, or if it came from outside our planet.\n\nIn the early days there was much finger pointing between nations and major corporations. Still is now of course, can't go a week without one theory or another sprouting. But nothing like the first few years. More then a few minor wars broke out, some just seizing the excuse, others legitimate in their beliefs. Then finally someone claimed responsibility. North Korea announced it was responsible. The lunatics then proceeded to claim everyone infected was their hostage, and would be killed if demands where not met. New Korea is still working to clear the rubble pile that remained behind. After that little display all the nations thankfully backed down some.\n\nIn the summer it is especially easy to see them on people, no heavy coats or thick sweaters to obscure the bumps. Looking around, every back I can see has them. These days it is incredibly rare for anyone over the age of eight to not have them, and judging by that boy, the age is getting lower. I reach behind myself to verify my fakes are still in place. I have never been infected, and these days that is a danger in itself. For some it's race, or sexual preference for many now it's all about whats on your back. \n", "He came in, 'bout kindergarten age with a bunch of his other friends of varying ages. These were the kids that parents shrugged off into the hands of slightly older siblings, type of kids helicopter moms fear. They cussed, they swore, they got into trouble and rove around in a little gang. Overall, pretty nice kids. \n\n\nAnyways, this one kid seemed like the youngest of the group. Little redheaded tot, he was quiet compared to the rest of 'em, he followed the leader a lot learning the ropes of what to do and what not to do. Quickly climbing up on a seat, his feat didn't even touch the ground. He truly was the runt of the litter. \n\n\nAll the other kids crowded around a pole bickering about sharing some candy they got by who knows what means. The oldest, a twelve year old girl who I'm guessing was the kids sister by her bright red hair, was playing judge to two other boys and another girl. Anyways, they kept on bickering all the while the little kid watched and learned. \n\n\nTrain stops and people get up and people get off. A new variety of people get on and the little kid got up. One of the boys, a pig faced chunky one, starts laughing when he sees a \"kick me\" sign on the little kids back. Kicks the kid right in the rear knocking him down. \n\n\nLittle ginger munchkin doesn't cry or anything. Just gets up, takes the thing off his back and looks at it. He's smart, he knows what happened and he knows what it says. Jumps on piggly wiggly and starts wailing harder than any other six year old I've ever seen. \n\nMomma bear pulls him off but the damage was already done. Piggly Wiggly has a bloody nose and they get off at the next stop, all the while I'm just looking at the munchkin. He is a little flustered, as anyone is from a fight, but he was calm. The kid didn't put up with shit, he just watched, listened, and learned. As they got off, he looked at me and smiled. Knew I was watching the entire time. \n\n\nThis happened a couple years back, but I always wonder what became of em. They say you form who you are at an early age, but this kid already had a rhythm when other kids were still picking their noses. When I think of that kid, I wonder if he would turn into the type of person that would beat someone senseless if they touched his girl, or he was the kind of person that you would want as your boss, someone that would stick up for himself and those around him. Or did I see the beginnings of a psychopath, the type of person that watched what held the world up and carefully tore out joists and supports and helped the world down. Who can tell, all I saw was a six year old beat the shit outa a fat kid. " ]	2
	[WP] Your home is two stories. Over time you notice a dark stain growing on the downstairs ceiling and call in help. What was found in the space between floors?	[ "A few days ago, we noticed it. It was a Thursday evening, a typically cool Autumn night.\n\n\n“Seth?”\n\n\n“Hm?”\n\n\n“There’s a stain.”\n\n\n“Oh?” I wandered over to where she was standing, a small frown on her face. It was dark, tinting the surface like some thick dust had settled over that small patch of ceiling. Round, about the size of a golf ball.\n\n\n\"Water damage?\" \n\n\n\"Doubt it. Looks darker than that. And there aren't any pipes up there anyway. So unless you spilled a LOT of coffee, there wouldn't be any water there.\" We were standing in the living room, underneath her study. \n\n\n\"Hm.\"\n\n\nI got a chair from the kitchen, stood on it, and tried to wipe the area with some 409 and a paper towel.\n\n\n\"It's not really doing anything,\" I told Jess as she watched.\n\n\n\"I heard a story once about a woman who tried to clean a strange black stain from her wall. She was at it for hours, scrubbing and scrubbing until her trash can was filled with blackened paper towels and rags.\"\n\n\n\"Wait, really?\"\n\n\n\"No,\" she laughed, \"now get down from there, we'll figure it out later.\"\n\n\nAnd that was it for a few days.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nSunday morning, we were eating breakfast.\n\n\n\"Jess?\" I called from the living room.\n\n\"Mhm?\"\n\n\"Check out the stain.\"\n\nShe walked from the kitchen, munching on a bowl of cereal.\n\n\"Oh.\" The munching stopped.\n\nThe stain was about the size of a dinner plate. Uniformly dark. And dark was the only word for it. Even with how well-lit the room was, it was like there was some unseeable object casting a shadow there. Hindsight tells me I wasn't so far off.\n\n\"Let's call someone, maybe Pat?\" \n\n\"Yeah, okay, I'll call him.\" So I did. Pat lived in the neighborhood, a friend of ours. Neither Jess nor I knew much at all about troubleshooting a house. Pat worked as a carpenter, and was always doing this or that inside his home; removing carpet, adding tile, renovating, you know.\n\nHe came over about an hour later.\n\n\"Um,\" He stated, with much conviction. \"Huh. Well.\"\n\nI joined Pat and Jess in the living room. I couldn't be certain, but I was pretty sure the patch was actually a little bit larger than before. \n\n\"Do you think it's water damage?\" I asked.\n\n\"No, I'm fairly certain it isn't.\"\n\n\"We tried to clean it a few days ago. We were at it for hours, scrubbing and scrubbing until our trash can was filled with blackened paper towels and rags.\"\n\nI nodded very gravely, eyes wide open. Pat's face was a mess of confusion and I couldn't help but enjoy it. The little things. Finally he could see we were messing with him and he gave me a punch in the arm.\n\n \"Seriously though,\" Pat started, \"I think you guys should get some expert in here to take a close look at this. I haven't seen something like this before, but I've heard terrible stories about radiation or bacteria that go unnoticed and get out of control. If this has grown so much in just a few days, I think you guys should get a professional in here ASAP.\"\n\nJess and I looked at eachother. Damn. We were hoping this could be a simple fix. Identified, solved, done. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nAfter Pat left, Jess and I did some searching and made some calls. A government health inspector would come around tomorrow morning, it sounded like this sort of request wasn't very uncommon, so that put us at ease. He would bring a kit that would help him identify the presence of radiation, dangerous bacteria, and other types of malignant entities that shouldn't be in your house.\n\nFeeling a little lighter, but not totally unconcerned, Jess and I went about our daily activities and avoided the living room as best we could. Raking leaves, buying groceries, that sort of thing. Around early evening, we hesitantly walked under the doorway of the room to check on the stain.\n\nI gasped, Jess gasped, we jumped back a little bit, inched forward a little bit, then planted ourselves firmly at the threshold to the room. The mark was larger. Much larger. Roughly circular, maybe four feet in diameter. And it was darker. Remember what I said before about it looking like a shadow? Now, it looked as if I was staring into a dark cellar. So unnaturally dark. And where the the inky blotch met the the white of the ceiling, it was like night and day. A firm line separated the natural from the unnatural. The boundary was clear. We stood in stunned silence, watching it for many minutes. If you paid attention to the edges, you could see the black mark swelling ever slowly. Like a storm cloud across the horizon, or a tide continuously rising. \n\nFinally, Jess broke the silence with a whisper.\n\n\"Fuck.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nWe slowly stepped away from the doorway, filled with an unhealthy mixture of fascination and horror. We called the inspector with the number we'd been given. He said he could make it out tonight due to the urgency of the situation. He didn't seem to mind, I think they'd pay him overtime. He said he'd be there for eight, which gave us a couple hours to kill. We drove around town, went out for ice cream (because we both agreed the other one needed some comfort food), and just talked while trying to keep our mind off of the issue. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nWe got back to the house at 7:45 and stayed in the car. The inspector pulled in just a couple minutes after us. \n\nWe hopped out of the car, I shook his hand, \"I'm Seth, this is Jess.\"\n\n\"Inspector Owens,\" he said in reply. \n\n\"Thanks so much for coming out here so urgently. We're sort of scared shitless over here.\"\n\nHe gave a smile, \"I'll help make sure we get everything under control.\"\n\nHe pulled out some type of toolbox from his car, it was dark so I couldn't make it out. We led him towards the front door. I opened it and stepped inside. I flicked the switch, but the lights didn't turn on.\n\n\"Well, that's not good.\"\n\n\"I've got flashlights.\" Owens opened up his box on the stoop and pulled out a flashlight for each of us. Long, solid, heavy things. We each turned ours on and stepped into the house. I led him to the living room and motioned for him to take a look. The moment he pointed his flashlight inside, Jess screamed. It echoed. I stared, mouth open, into what had been our living room.\n\nThe beam of the flashlight could be seen for hundreds of yards. The noise of the scream echoed back to us over and over, making sure our horror was repeatedly refreshed, like a waitress that fills up your glass after every sip of water. The ground was level in front of us, as indicated by the flashlight. But we could see no walls, no ceiling, no detail. We each flashed our lights into the abyss. \n\nAnd then, something intersected our beams of light. Something massive, indescribably so. All at once it appeared, maybe fifty yards in front of us and wherever we moved our flashlights we discovered new details to its slimy, hulking mass. Tentacles and mouths and eyes with astonishing variations in sizes. Even with a hundred flashlights we would be no closer to comprehending the monster--so massive and foreign, abnormal and perverse. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nI fell to the ground and wept.\n", "As the contractor inspected my ceiling, I was struck with that rancid smell again. I was terrified to find what was in there. Probably a dead raccoon - the size of the mold seems to suggest something at least that big. Still, I watch too many horror movies and my mind was racing with much darker possibilities. She set up the ladder and climbed up to the patch, inspecting it. \n\n\n\"We'll have to drain whatever's in there before we can replace the ceiling. Usually this kind of mold comes from some sort of water damage, though. You might have a leaky pipe.\" She said, setting up a large tube and bucket. A leaky pipe! Of course. I was just being paranoid, per usual. \"Probably a sewage pipe, from the looks of it. Though it's weird that it would be so far from the bathroom.\" She muttered, and I nodded as if I knew anything about pipes or houses. My upstairs bathroom was above my garage, and the stain was forming above the living room. In fact, it was right underneath my roommate's bedroom. I wondered briefly if he could smell it. He always left the door closed, so I rarely even wandered down that side of the hall. Gotta respect each other's privacy and all that.\n\n\nI'm really glad we have such a good relationship, Brent and I. We've been roommates since college, and now that he's got a steady lover and I've got a stable job a small house made the most sense. Sometimes I feel like a third wheel, and sometimes when Taylor is hanging out, cuddling with Brent and watching TV, teasing remarks are made. Most of my distant friends advise me to start looking for a serious relationship, but Brent understands. I've never really been into sex, and since we live in a hyper sexualized world, I've kinda got slim pickins. I've dated a few other asexuals, though. The internet and LGBT progress in general has been helpful. \n\n\n\"You're gonna need these.\" My train of thought was interrupted by the carpenter. I realized I had already forgotten her name. She was holding a paper mask and goggles. I gave her a weak smile. \"haha, for what exactly?\" She began moving furniture and laying down tarp. \"I'm almost positive this is raw sewage, and I know you don't want any of that on you.\" She climbed up and pointed to a large funnel attached to the thick blue tube. I handed it up to her and tried to hold my breath. The other end of the tube didn't seem attached to the bucket in any way, so I squatted down to keep it firmly inside the container at all times. The last thing I wanted was to buy a new couch, or get new carpeting in here. She promptly hit the stain with a hammer, and the feces came rushing down. It was disgusting, and I panicked worrying about the bucket overflowing. However, as the stain drained the flow slowed down, and I decided to distract myself.\n\n\nThe last time I had been really grossed out was the day Brent found the milk in his room. Junior year of college, we lived in a suite-style dorm so we each got our own rooms on campus. We were having a prank war of sorts, that I evidently won. All I had to do was buy a gallon of milk every week, open it, and carefully place it on the top of one of his ceiling tiles. People usually use that space to hide weed or booze, but Brent didn't do drugs so I knew he'd never find it. Over the weeks his room smelt disgusting. He had changed his sheets, done all his laundry, even bought a vacuum and upturned all his furniture trying to clean. Soon he bought raw coffee beans, which made his room smell like an abandoned starbucks. When he finally checked the ceiling, he lifted the wrong tile. All the gallons of milk fell and started seeping cream into his room, only leaving behind thick, white chunks. I thought it was hilarious. After that, we made a truce. We were billed an extra $500 from the school for damage to the ceiling. \n\n\n\"Okay, I'm gonna start carving away the ceiling. Is there room in the bucket?\" she asked. \"Eh...not really.\" I answered, lifting the end of the pipe out of the muck. \"Okay. I'm gonna need to dump this out. Where is the nearest manhole?\" She asked, and I shrugged, walking to the window. She looked out with me. \"I could always dump it in the storm drain, at the end of your yard. Are you okay with that?\" I nodded, just glad to be making progress. She reached into her toolbox and produced a roll of saran wrap, which she used to make a makeshift lid on the bucket. She lifted with her knees and I watched her carry it out the front door. It occurred to me that maybe she should have a team of people for this project, but I guess I understated my problem over the phone. As the contractor kneeled down and ripped the plastic cover off, I decided to give her a nice tip. \n\n\nBrent and I now use our pranking powers as a team. He's dated a lot of people, and Taylor's been the only one who has fit into our mischief seamlessly. I really like them as a couple. Last week the three of us convinced another friend of ours, Bella, that all giraffes are lesbians. It probably helped that Taylor's a biology major. We all spoke with such confidence, claiming that lesbianism is making giraffes go extinct. Bella was so saddened, and we watched a documentary about giraffes. When they made no mention of homosexuality, we assured Bella that it was because this film came out in 2007, before the wave of giraffe lesbians was really making an impact. I think she still believes it. I chuckle just thinking about it. If I could be sexual for anyone, it would be for her. We have even had some drunken makeout sessions. I just never feel right about it. She understands. In another life, we could be great. I'm glad we're good friends, despite her need for sex in a relationship. \n\n\nThe carpenter was back, and we set up the bucket again wordlessly. She was carving away at the ceiling, making sure the pieces were small enough to tumble through the tube. \"So\" she started, \"How long have you been living here?\" It was hard to breathe with this mask on. \"Almost a year now. My roommate and I go to AU. We're both undergrads\" I answer, and she nods. \"I just graduated from GW last spring.\" she replies. I'm surprised. Most GW kids end up in law school, and are generally snobbish about which school they go to. Certainly wouldn't expect a GW kid to be working any freelance jobs like this. Not with their parents' plethora of cash. She seemed to read my mind. \"My dad owns the contracting company. I've always been into working with my hands, and it makes good money on the side. Plus I've been doing it since high school, so it's an easy job now.\" I nodded, using the tube to squish the broken ceiling pieces and hopefully make more room. \"Wow. How did you like GW?\" I ask, trying to avoid the rude question I want to ask. \"Eh...there were definitely a lot of stuck-up kids. People who looked at me differently whenever I mentioned my scholarships, or financial aid. For a long time I was ashamed of my side job, and I worried about getting a call to one of my classmate's apartments. But people grew up, and I carved out a nice little niche for myself amongst the engineering students. Still though, you'd be surprised how judgmental fully grown adults can be.\" I smiled. \"Oh believe me, I know.\" I say. I thought about elaborating, but then decided not to. When someone is cleaning the shit out of your ceiling, you don't want to say anything that might make them dislike you. \n\n\n\"How's AU?\" she asks. \"It's great\" I say, \"definitely lives up to the hype, in terms of liberal students.\" I smiled to myself. \"A typical get-to-know-you question at an AU party is 'what are your pronouns?'. I really appreciated the openness.\" I say. She nods, and pulls out sandpaper to finish cleaning off the edges. Moist dust sprinkled down the drain into the bucket. \"Well how rude of me,\" she says, \"what are your pronouns?\" I smile. \"He and Him. What are yours?\" \"She and her. I'm cis-scum.\" she says, smiling at me. I laugh, \"Now you sound like an AU kid.\" She moves to another edge, and finishes scrubbing off the sewage. She hops down, surprising me. She pulls out a black trash bag and dumps out the bucket, sealing it tight. The smell had improved noticeably. \"Now let's see what the problem is\" She turns on a headlamp as she climbs. I sit down on the couch and take off my mask. \"Do you want some water?\" I ask her. It's surprisingly hot in here. \"No thanks,\" she answers, and I head into the kitchen to grab some water for myself. Out the window, I can see Brent's car pulling into the driveway. I take my glass into the living room. \"So what did you major in?\" I ask. \"Mechanical Engineering.\" She says, her head disappearing into the ceiling. \"Oh, right, I think you said something about that earlier.\" I am half-shouting, using my stage voice because I'm not sure how hard it is for her to hear me up there. \"Um, this is really weird.\" She says, and the front door opens. Brent comes in, dragging a suitecase behind him. \"Welcome back! Something disgusting happened.\" I say, giving him an ashamed smile. I didn't exactly cause the pipe to burst, but I felt bad that he would be coming home to a major problem like this. He sighed, and put his backpack down. \"I can't believe I missed it!\" he said, exasperated. I was confused. The contractor spoke again. \"I can't seem to locate which pipe burst and besides, none of these are wide enough to be sewage pipes.\" I turned around to look at the hole. \"Huh?\" Brent flopped down on the couch. \"So how much is this gonna cost us?\" he asks. I look at the contractor. I had gotten a quote, but it was a ballpark, not exact. She didn't hear him. \"I have no idea where this came from.\" She said, voice muffled as she stepped up to the next step on the ladder. I looked at Brent, only to see his signature shit-eating grin. Everything else faded, and his eyes bore into my soul.\n\nAt that moment, I knew this was his revenge.", "I noticed it while cleaning the living room. A small black stain about the size of a tennis ball, jagged at the border. It's no coincidence the bathroom is a floor up. I'll have to check it tomorrow for any leaks. \n\n________________________________________________________________\n\nFound the leak at the corner of the bathtub. I glued it up with some epoxy and let it cure and, viola! No leak. That should prevent the stain from getting any bigger. \n\n________________________________________________________________\n\nIt'd been a few days since I fixed the leak until I noticed the stain again. I thought the job was over. It was a little larger. Shit, there must be a burst pipe somewhere in the ceiling. It'd have to hold off for about a week until I can put the time into fixing it. It'll have to wait.\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\nI tore up the tiles today and looked at the pipes. There wasn't any moisture on the timbers below the pipes and there were no signs of the stain on this side. It grew again. It's roughly the size of a basketball now, with black tendrils creeping further across the ceiling. I grabbed a ladder and took a closer look. The mold, as I'll be calling it now since there's a black fuzzy grass-like growth on the ebony patch, is black as night with purple specks. I'll look this up on the internet and see if I find anything, otherwise I'll have to tear it out of the ceiling. \n\n________________________________________________________________\n\nWhat in the world. It's been a few since I checked for any burst pipes and there's some kind of slender coal-black reed growing out of it. My search couldn't find anything. I was becoming really worried, the air in the living room was musky and it looked as if there were black spores in the air, barely perceptible to the eye. This thing has to go.\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\nI cut off the...reed with a pair of scissors. Carefully, I held it tight and disposed of it in the trash. The mold spread out some further and cutting it out will take some work. Good thing I have the whole day off.\n\nYeuch! I got some of it into my mouth. There was a slight drip from the base of where I cut off the reed and one drop landed on my cheek. It tasted metallic and caused my tongue to recoil. Disgusting. I washed my face.\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\nMy muscles ached in the morning. Yesterday's labor left me exhausted, I'd removed the area where the mold spread and my living room ceiling had a very apparent gap in it. \n\nI walked into the bathroom to start my morning routine when I was startled by what I saw in the mirror. My eyes. Their color was as sharp as black obsidian. My heart raced. What had happened, did the mold spread, was I infected? Immediately I thought of seeing a doctor.\n\nAnd then I noticed something peculiar. While my mind panicked at the thoughts of some virulent mold my face had kept a calm composure. I tried to frown at my disposition. The muscles wouldn't move. I reached for my face to see if it had been numb, but my arm wouldn't budge. I screamed internally. \n\nI was no longer in control of my body. ", "I live alone. \n\nDo I mind it?\n\nHmm.\n\nOnly sometimes. My neighborhood's not the best. By not the best, I mean you can't throw a dead cat around without walking into drug dealers and crack whores. When I hear a bump in the night I don't assume something paranormal. \n\nNo...I assume it's something more annoying...like a robber.\n\nYou think I should move out? Yeah?\n\nI don't have the money.\n\nBecause I spent most of it trying to fix this odd stain in the ceiling where the kitchen is. My friends all comment on it, and it's taken me until now to do something about it.\n\nI think its a water stain. Probably from the insane amounts of rain we get every spring. The stain resembled a splatter, its tendrils scattering in multiple directions. It was also quite large. I was starting to worry that what was left of my house may come crashing down.\n\nSo I hired some brown shirts who were somewhat competent at their job to take a look at it.\n\nThey tore the ceiling apart. I ate in the living room for a few days. \n\nYou know what they found?\n\nNothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a single bead of liquid. \n\nI got the ceiling redone again, and went on with my life. \n\nThe stains were there again the next day, this time in the living room. Called the guys up, said something was wrong. The whole process repeated, and yet...they found nothing. Maybe these guys are just fucking up, maybe its some kind of mold? I'm coughing a lot more than usual.\n\nWeird.\n\nI don't bother calling the workers anymore. At this point, they'll going to have to tear down my entire house. \n\nSince then, the white drywall have been suffocated by spidering black limbs, connected to a massive oval of slick ebony located on the living room ceiling. Even some of the window glass was starting to show black dots peppered in an spiral pattern along the frame. It's just not downstairs either. Bathroom, bedroom, basement, kitchen, even my fucking garage...all consumed by this blackened nightmare. By then, I was already broke. I'm sure the girls I bring over won't take too kindly to this kind of decoration.\n\nI tried to videotape the stains happening, but the tape would always cut out after an hour or so. Every...single...time.\n\nA few hours ago, I gave up trying to set up the camera and decided to go for a drive.\n\nI walked towards the front door, only to find it sealed with the same viscous, black substance. It was then that I knew they weren't just stains. I struggled with the knob, but it wouldn't budge. Same with the garage door-even the windows were sealed shut as well. \n\nPanicking, I dialed 911, an unsettling feeling of claustrophobia seeping into my mind. \n\n\"911, what's your emergency?\" spoke a calm, collected voice. Unlike my own.\n\n\"Hi, I'm...I'm-\"\n\nThat's when I felt it. Difficulty breathing. Each breath took progressively more and more effort. A slight twist in my windpipe. I start to wheeze and hack, praying to a higher power so it would stop. I just kept coughing, until I was on my knees, tears freshly squeezed out of my bloodshot eyes.\n\nWithout warning I vomited, sending a thick, chunky torrent of yellowed acidic liquid with bits of half-digested food present onto my carpet. It felt hot, nearly searing the inside of my neck when it erupted out of my mouth and splashed out with reckless abandon.\n\nI gazed at the yellow and black consistency of the puddle with ragged breaths, my chest on fire.\n\n\"What-(cough)-what...\"\n\nIn the pool of warm vomit, something moved.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	4
	[WP] The moon landing wasn't faked. In fact, the landing was a great success. What we faked was the return.	[ "\"One small step for man. One giant leap for mankind.''And these were the last word Armstrong mumbled before we cut off all communications. We failed as a country to gather the funds for this project and to return those brave men that ventured into the unknown. They risked it. They took that step for man and that leap for humanity. But we couldn't catch them when they slipped off the step. \n\nPresident Nixon walks off stage after addressing the public about the failed mission. He steps into an off room of the white and stare deep into the mirror, wondering where did he go wrong. How could he let this happen to those great men. He asked himself \"when does a man become a monster.'' Live feed was going from the press still and he heard the rioters in the street. \"Remove Nixon!'' They shouted. \n\n\n\nYears passed and people have yet to forger what happened on that day. Its possible the Apollo team survived for a couple of more days afterwards but we will never know the truth. They say if you look at the moon you can still see Buzz floating around. ", "(NOTE: Kind of long... sorry about it... )\n\n\"What do you mean, 'No'?\" Neil murmured.\n\n\"What was that, Neil?\" Buzz asked. He was watching the earth from just outside our lunar module.\n\n\"Turn off your mic, Buzz.\"\n\n\"What's wrong?\"\n\n\"Turn it off.\"\n\n\"Alright, fine, Neil.\" There was a click in Neil's ear, a moment of static, and then silence. Finally, another voice - a gruffer, unforgiving voice - resounded in Neil's helmet again.\n\n\"Armstrong,\" the voice began, \"the answer is and has been: No, you're not coming back.\"\n\n\"Major, with all due respect, this is asinine. What do you mean we're not coming back?\"\n\n\"That's classified, Armstrong. It's out of my hands.\"\n\n\"That's garbage, sir!\"\n\n\"Armstrong, keep your cool.\"\n\n\"I respect you, sir, but this is not a time for me to remain calm. You're leaving us to die out here!\"\n\n\"Neil, I'm sorry. We're sorry. The President has already been made aware of this decision.\"\n\n\"The... the President? He's abandoning us?\"\n\n\"I'm so sorry, Neil.\"\n\n\"Why? Why are you doing this? What can't we come back to our homes, our families, Major, our families? Why?\"\n\n\"That's classi-\"\n\n\"Cut the classified crap, sir. Tell me the truth!\"\n\nThere was a pause in the conversation. Neil could hear his CO breathing. He could almost see the major's pained breaths. He could only imagine the rapid beating of his heart.\n\n\"Fine, Armstrong, fine. The moon is inhabited by parasitic life form that has binds to the surfaces around you.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"This life form is the tiniest of microscopic organisms. We discovered this organism a few weeks before the launch when studying readings from one of our satellites. We delved deeper into its inner workings, and realized that the parasite, if brought back to earth, could destroy the human race in a matter of days.\"\n\nSomething caught in Neil's throat. His heart skipped a few beats. His breaths became shorter and shorter. He spoke in a hoarse tone: \"This is a bunch of nonsense, Major! Why send us up in the first place then, if you all knew that we would never come back? How could you do a thing like that?\"\n\n\"The people needed something to pride themselves on. The Russians had bested us once before, and in order to keep national morale high, we needed a success. You and your team, Neil, were that success.\"\n\n\"We aren't a success worthy of being brought home, though? We're just your scapegoat!\"\n\n\"It was never our intention to use you three as our scapegoats.\"\n\n\"But that's what you've made us! And now we'll die out here not as heroes, but as scapegoats! You're all liars!\"\n\n\"You are heroes, though, Neil! The American people cannot stop going on and on about how you three are American heroes for them. This moment - your moment, Neil - will live on for all eternity!\"\n\n\"Even though this is all just a sham?\"\n\n\"Well, the people don't need to know that.\"\n\nNeil couldn't think anymore. He couldn't breathe, save for a few short breaths here and there. \"What's going on?\" he muttered, now pacing. His boots kicked up sad spurts of gray dust with every burdened step. He turned towards the lander and saw Buzz standing standing at the base of the module. Neil tapped the side of his helmet with his right finger, indicating to Buzz to turn his communications display back on.\n\nBuzz gave a thumbs up, and tapped his own helmet. A moment later, Buzz's fresh, unassuming voice filled Neil's helmet. \"What's going on, Neil?\" Hearing Buzz's voice made the gravity of the situation hit Neil much harder than he was expecting, and hot tears began to form under his eyes.\n\n\"Buzz,\" Neil said, his voice stuttering, \"we're not going home.\"\n\nThere was a pause, and then, \"What?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Ed. Major's orders.\"\n\nBuzz turned towards earth, back to Buzz, and then to earth again. He didn't say anything, but just stared at the giant blue and green orb that seemed so close to them that they could jump off of the surface of the moon and land on earth's. But they knew that it could only be done in dreams. Buzz finally turned back to the lander and began to climb the ladder to get back into the capsule. As jovial as Buzz usually was, Neil knew full-well that Buzz understood there was no hope.\n\nHe looked above the lunar module and saw the Command craft passing by in an orbit around the moon. Then, an idea: \"Wait, Major, what about Collins?\"\n\n\"What about him?\" the Major asked; it almost seemed as if he had been waiting for this question.\n\n\"He's clean, sir! He never left the Command module. He's still in orbit around the moon. Please, for God's sake, if at least one of us can come home, let it be him. He is safe, Major. Please!\"\n\n\"Neil, we can't have just one of you coming home. It would cause suspicion that we can't afford at these early stages of this space race. I'm sorry, but none of you are coming home.\"\n\n\"That's just crazy, sir! How are you going to stop him from coming home?\"\n\n\"We were prepared for this, Neil. I'm sorry we have to do this.\"\n\n\"Do what exactly?\"\n\nThere was a flash of light above him, and what had been the Command module flying along was now empty space. Spacecraft parts flew in every direction, some pelting the surface of the moon as fast as speeding bullets. Debris crashed around Neil, but he was too transfixed on the sudden absence of the Command module, and Collins, to care.\n\n\"Michael!!!\"\n\n\"I'm sorry you had to witness that, Neil. It-\"\n\n\"Neil,\" Buzz exclaimed through his mic, \"did you see that? What happened to Mike?\"\n\n\"NASA blew him up...\"\n\n\"WHAT?!\"\n\nIn an ominous tone unlike his otherwise monotone speech, the Major said, \"Bid farewell to Collins, Neil.\"\n\n\"No, you can't-\"\n\nAnother flash of light burst suddenly, just 100 yards in front of Neil. The lunar module was disintegrated in a single moment.\n\n\"You monsters! I hope you rot in hell for what you all have done!\"\n\n\"We know we will, but only if it means to preserve the peace for the American people. Goodbye, Neil. Godspeed.\"\n\n\"Don't let me go!\"\n\nIt was useless; only static replied to him. He was the only one left." ]	2
I noticed that there are not much opportunities for world building authors here, and I'd love to see what kind of worlds are out there.	[WP] Magically we are transported into a world you've been building. Give me a tour.	[ "The ground shook and bounced underneath my boots. Everything was shaking in a bouncy sort of way; the tall grass, the trees, the flowers, the hills and mountains; everything. I felt my insides jumble about, it was kinda like being tickled from the inside.\n\nStanding was hard, it was like standing on a huge wobbling jelly, and yet, my young guide, dressed in blue jeans, a blue denim jacket with a black shirt underneath, seemed to have no issues at all. I was wondering why I was asked to take travel tablets with me before travelling to this world.\n\n\"This whole world is freaking bouncing.\" I told him.\n\n\"Yeah, I got that.\" He replied in a snarky voice, in a distinct British accent. \"There are many myths and legends as to why this world is so unstable, but the people who live here have adapted to the bouncing. You might feel unsteady on the constantly moving ground, but you'll soon find your balance.\"\n\nAs my body adjusted, my insides jumbling became quite a fun feeling after a while, which made me giggle a bit. I followed him around a corner to a city in the distance. Every skyscraper that was part of it was shaking and swaying like jellies! As we walked alongside a road that approached the city, cars were very slowly driving by, being rocked from the constant jiggling.\n\n\"The speed limit is very low,\" he told me. \"If you drive quite fast, the shaking makes it very easy to lose control and crash.\"\n\nAfter a while, we entered an apartment block.\n\n\"It's always best to take the elevator no matter what.\" He said, punching in the elevator button. \"The constant shaking makes stairs very hard to traverse. We only use them in emergencies.\"\n\nWe travelled up the elevator up to a floor and entered one of the apartments. It was his own apartment. The living room rode out the bouncing; pictures on the wall as well as the light above swung around.\n\n\"How on earth do people even live here?\" I asked.\n\n\"Every seat has a seat-belt.\" He replied. \"You can sit and watch telly while you don't have to worry about being shook around too much.\"\n\n\"Seat-belts.\" I thought. \"The whole world is shaking so much that seats in otherwise immobile buildings have seat-belts.\"\n\n\"The beds are all very soft,\" he continued, showing me a bedroom. \"The bed absorbs most of the bouncing while you sleep.\" He then walked me into a bathroom. \"And whatever you do,\" he pointed at the toilet. \"Do not use toilets while standing in front of them, or else it will end badly.\"\n\nWe both left the apartment building and went into a nearby park. I looked at the pond and watched as the water splashed about.\n\n\"Going swimming is fun,\" he told me. \"There's no need for wave generators. The bouncing world takes care of that regardless.\"\n\n\"Thank you for showing me your world.\" I told him. \"The constant jiggling must be a challenge for the people here.\"\n\n\"Yes. But we've adapted to it, and it's quite fun now! Thank you for your stay!\"\n\nAs I arrived back at my own world, where everything was nice and still again, I felt like I had sea-legs; I felt dizzy and was stumbling around for a few days. Despite that, I would love to visit again.", "\"It's all so...grey...\"\n\nI look up from my notepad. \"As far as the eye can see, yes. I haven't figured out anything better than 'Grey Plains.'\"\n\nHe walks forward and plucks some of the long grass. \"Is this edible?\"\n\n\"Of course. Not by any sentient race, but species that live here subsist on this grass.\"\n\n\"Things can live here?\" \n\n\"Life is everywhere! There's a whole ecosystem all around you, a whole food chain with prey and predators. Especially predstors. Now, let's move on.\"\n\nWe do not move, but the planet seems to turn beneath us with increasing speed. When it stops, we stand where the plains become mountains, before a great city.\n\n\"So tall...I can't see the top of a single building...now that I think about it, there's nothing on the ground, not even streets. Why?\"\n\n\"Well, the plains aren't really suitable for their kind of life, and.neither are the mountains. So they built up, not out. There are bridges between buildings that act as streets.\"\n\n\"Their kind of....they aren't human?\"\n\n\"Not at all. They're very different from you.\"\n\n\"So how am I supposed to lead them, to save them?\"\n\n\"That is for me to know and for you to find out. After all, you're my main character.\"", "Well, welcome to the Combine, part of a multiverse of many different kinds and orders of realities. \n\nYeah, I guess you can say that's something of a secret, I guess. Honestly, after two Intrusion Wars brought by another 'verse to this amalgamated 'verse, I don't see what's so big a secret about the fact that our Combine--our small pocket galaxy of worlds, full of magic and technology--is vulnerable to cracks and sieves compromising the universal barriers separating our 'verse from everyone else's verses.\n\nOther 'verses tend to stick their noses in our business. I guess they're jealous that our God and Mortal planes, magic and mundanity, have melded into one: the Combine, where magic is in every cell, and newborns have to have magic muffles on their cribs, or else they might blow something up, born with magic as everyone in our 'verse is.\n\nI guess we have systems of magic and such. If you can have a degree in English in your 'verse, then I suppose we can have a Bachelor's in Magic Arts, too. That seems fair. Doesn't mean you're special for being able to use magic, when everyone uses it, even just to heat up their coffee. You just got a degree in knowing what everyone already knows, so, congrats?\n\nAnyways, the Combine is (currently) composed of five worlds: Ivhansa, a frigid place far from its sun; Fenora, a barren place lit by a weak sun and constant dark cloud cover; Reganus, a lively blue and green world analogous to your Earth; Arcinda, a gas giant with oxygen in its upper atmosphere, where creatures of flight have taken root; and Nexus, an artificial world, a Dyson sphere, powered by a sun, that's our central hub world, from which all points of the Combine are accessible by Weaveship travel.\n\nThe Weave is what lies between the worlds, full of Weave-living creatures called, naturally, Weavers. The Weavers and the Combine (the latter being planetary) haven't always gotten along. In fact, in the first Intrusion War, the Weavers aligned with the intruders, the universe known as Anarchy, and we had another in a long line of conflicts with the Weavers about using the Weave to get between our worlds.\n\nWe have guns. You're going to go, \"What?\" at that, but we have guns. I know that seems strange, but we also have magic. A lot of us can put out more power with our pinky fingers with magic than a gun could ever do, and magic barriers are a very real thing. They're fun things, guns, and some of them are magically wrought, which is also a fun idea, but we have magic, man. Do you know what kind of crazy stuff you can do with magic that guns and missiles can never hope to achieve?\n\nMagic, man. Maaagic.\n\nAnyways, we've been around for about nine-hundred years or so, ever since the Shattering--when the civilizations that were separated into God and Mortal planes clashed, and everything went to the void (that and 'Weave' are our word for bad things and places) from all the power unleashed: Mortal means and tech versus God magic and power.\n\nAnyway, once everyone was basically dead, and this Big Bang analogue happened, this old ordered 'verse eventually coalesced together, God and Mortal planes merging completely into one whole, creating the Combine as we know it. Yes, that means we are all Gods, in a way, and our Gods are just more powerful avatars of our own worlds, so I can talk to the God of Fenora, if that dick isn't s--heeey, Vasillis!\n\n\"I am omnipresent on Nexus, as well, you fool. I heard that.\"\n\nHeh heh heh...\n\nAnyways, our Combine is part of your multiverse, as well, you there on Earth in your own closed 'verse. But, there's lots of little seams and cracks in every 'verse, and some are bigger and smaller than others. And the Combine has many large gaps, so, maybe, one day, you'll step through one of those alignments of our 'verse's large weaknesses and one of your 'verse's soft spots, and you'll end up in our Combine, as sometimes happens.\n\nThis gap's closing, though. So, maybe we'll see you soon! Strive well!", "It's late, possibly after midnight. Stars fill the sky, scattered like dust against a black cloth. Two galactic halos; strands of ancient magic overlay the darkness, one in violet and another in brilliant blue. \nIt was a forest here, once. Now, the trees had perished under a loose covering of ash and dust. As you stand, ash swirls under your feet. It takes a moment for you to realise the towering vertical wall beside you and it is like nothing you have every seen. Like a flat cliff that had torn through the ground around it, like a knife through paper, the wall is adorned like a circuit board; strange shapes and runes covered its dun metal face and it stretches infinitely in every direction. You don't realise at first, a footstep a pace behind you. Whirling, you turn to face something that almost makes you fly in fear. A skeleton a head or so taller than anyone you have ever seen, with steel bones and a darkness in its rib cage that seemed to make the midnight around you brighter than a summer day. You stagger back and the darkness within its chest seems to shroud it, giving it a grace that seems otherworldly. A blade, the same darkness as its form but with a lithe edge seems to grow from the shadow of its form. Panic floods you and you turn to run. \nA gentle hand rests on your arm. A man, fairly tall with shoulder length blond hair and a long white coat that seems bright within the darkness. His blue eyes sparkle like sapphires and his smile settles the fear in your stomach, a little at least. He turns to the creature,\n\"A faint, one of the last ones,\" he tells you, his voice is cool an unplaceable hint of an accent. He holds out his hand and a sword, maybe a rapier, appears in his hand, glowing with a soft blue light that illuminates a scar that sliced diagonally across his face; it was almost enough to make you panic again. \"Don't worry, I'll protect you. I'm the only one who could.\" His eyes seem to flash with sorrowful regret for the briefest moment, but he covers it instantly with the same cool smile. He rounds on the creature - a faint - his rapier met the creature's weapon, steel on steel. Without hesitation, he slams his other hand into the creature's innards. It gripps him with metal bones and pulls him close. The man grunts and you watch in horror as the monster throws him aside, slamming him into a dead tree. He is not so easily defeated, however, and strange armour-like metal and crystal grows on his skin. It covers him and he piles into the creature faster than appeared human. With speed and grace that had to be seen to be believed, he seemed to dismantle the creature using a gauntlet-covered fist and careful slices of the rapier. \n\"Who are you?\" You can just about get out. He smiles at you; a warm smile.\n\"You're not from around these parts. You're near the town of Tumbalad, my town, and I'm Sartharin Kinn. It's my pleasure.\" He takes your hand and he looks tired, but his eyes still sparkle, the armour worn only a moment ago gone without a trace. ", "Prostrate yourself, I carry word from the Palace of Eternal Light.\n\nEmperor Kasir, second of his name, Conqueror of the North, Beloved of the People, the Great Unity, has personally decreed that his message be brought to all four corners of his Empire.\n\nGird yourselves for the message I bring is one that promises glory from conquest, wealth from plunder, and fame everlasting from exploration into new found lands.\n\nImperial traders have brought forth reports of a new continent beyond the reach of the Western Sea. They tell queer and intriguing tales of a lush land carpeted in virgin forests, prowled by fascinating creatures; promising new lands for the citizenry of our great Empire.\n\nTo those possessed of sound mind and strong arm our Emperor has promised passage to this new world in return for leal service and courage of spirit. Any man who would so choose to serve in this expeditionary engagement is strongly encouraged to inquire further with his local banner-sergeant.\n\nI have been further empowered to set forth details of pay. In addition to the standard salary of a legionary a man will be granted five acres of land in the new world for every year of satisfactory service. This bounty of land is doubled for any accredited blacksmiths or bowyers who volunteer, quadrupled for any mages who seek service in the expedition.\n\nThe new world promises danger and riches in equal measure.\n\nWorthy citizens of the Empire...will you heed your Emperor's call?", "What is this place?\n\nIt's my world, of course.\n\nYour world? But... there's nothing here.\n\nReally? How sure are you?\n\nI mean, no matter where I look, all I see is plain white.\n\nThen what do you call that? Or that? Or that one over there?\n\nWhat are you even pointing at? There's nothing there.\n\nAh, now I see the problem\n\nProblem?\n\nHere. Close your eyes\n\nAnd what difference will that make?\n\nJust do it.\n\nFine, fine.\n\n...\n\nNow, do you see them?\n\nOh my god...\n\nOnce more, I welcome you to my world.\n\nI don't understand. How'd we get here?\n\nEasy. This world has always been here. And every single person can go to it at any time they wish. In fact, our ancestors did just that, hopping between this world and ours to their own leisure. Sadly, with all the distractions of life and advancement breathing down our necks, we have slowly forgotten about this world.\n\nBut what exactly is \"this world\"?\n\nIt's the realm of the mind, of course.\n\nSo... we're inside my mind? What the hell bro, that's... creepy.\n\nNo, no. We're not inside your mind specifically. Rather, we are in \"the mind\"\n\nI... don't get it.\n\nYou know about the internet, do you?\n\nWell yeah. Inter-connected computers and what-have-you's.\n\nAnd did you know that the human mind behaves like that as well?\n\nSo... what you're saying is: we're in the mind's internet? Is that it?\n\nErr, I suppose you could describe it like that, yes.\n\n...\n\nThat aside, I'm sure there's lots you'll want me to describe or explain. So go ahead and point at 'em.\n\nRight then. What's that?\n\nHm? Oh, that's an Azure. Keepers of knowledge and experiences. See the book they're carrying? That's where they write it all down. Each Azure diligently takes down notes on everything that happens to their host mind. They're not very reliable though. They need quite some amount of coaxing before they'll share their records with anyone. Even with their host mind.\n\nI think I know what you mean. How 'bout that?\n\nAh, Neiros. They're the most influential and most powerful among the entities here. They govern the sub-concious. Or rather, they are the sub-concious. While they usually keep to themselves, and only ever manifest during times when the other entities are asleep, the rare times that they do act in the open are the times when great things happen. Most of the times, at least. Ever had an inexplicable and sudden burst of creativity? Or a strange new wave of inspiration? That's the Neiros for you.\n\nWhat exactly do you mean by 'most of the times'?\n\nWell, there are times when a Neiros manifests in the open and yield not-so-favourable results. Many genocides, wars, and various crimes were invoked by Neiros. But let's not dwell on that, shall we?\n\n... if you say so. Then, tell me what that one is. The one holding the, er, whatever that is.\n\nThat's a Lunti. They are the shrewdest of all the entities in my world. They govern logic and intellect. I like to refer to them as the office workers, owing to their perpetual busy-ness.\n\nAnd the one it's arguing with?\n\nThat's a Vermil. They are entities of emotion. That one, in particular, is a Vermil of Rage. The others are Sorrow, Joy, Contempt, Fear, among others. The Vermils in general aren't in very good terms with the Luntis. Mostly because of conflicting views; what with the Luntis thinking Vermils are too gullible and irrational, and the Vermils thinking Luntis are too cold and devoid of emotion. It's best we not get too involved in their conflict, I tell you.\n\nHuh. Kinda like politics, eh? Anyway, what about that pale-skinned fella over there?\n\nThat... is nothing important.\n\nEh? But it is here, so it must have a purpose of sorts.\n\nDistance yourself from him, and nothing undesirable will occur.\n\nI'm starting to not like your tone. You're hiding something, are you?\n\n...\n\nAnd that fella over there likely holds some secret of yours, huh? Is that why you won't talk?\n\n...\n\nStill not talking? Then I'll just ask it myself.\n\nIt's time for you to leave. Goodbye.\n\nHey, wai--", "The Interview\n\n\"Alright, let's go.\" said the mustached man with a British accent, putting on his hat and clutching his notepad.\n\n\"It's through here.\" \n\nNervously I opened the door in the attic wall. A breath of wind came through and we entered.\n\n\"Hm.\" He grunted. \n\nWe were in the middle of a prairie. The sun shone and the prairie stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. I whistled softly and a cloud floated down to us. The man scribbled something on his pad before climbing in behind me.\n\nI explained :\n\n\"The idea was that large expanses are more relaxing, so this is how you enter.\"\n\n\"What if there's a storm ?\"\n\nI hadn't tried it yet. In my mind's eye I saw winds blowing, darkness and thunder. Immediately, our little cloud was surrounded by large, angry siblings. The air grew cold and rain poured down. Thunder groaned and a streak of lightning went by us.\n\nAnd in instant it was gone. I turned to the man. Now soaked, he was scribbling some more on his notepad. I chuckled nervously. \n\nOur little cloud flew, fast and faster, accross the prairie. In the distance, a glittering shape was barely visible and we rushed towards it with all the haste of a thousand winds.\n\n\"What is that ?\" He inquired, noticing the structure. It was a city, a mass of tall towers, arachnean bridges arching through them. \n\n\"This is Swynion. It's the main city. This is where the magic happens.\" I smiled at my own joke, hoping he would get it. He scribbled on, unconcerned.\n\n\"How do you write that ?\" \n\nI spelled it out for him as we approached the gleaming city. Hitching a pair of spectacles up on his nose, he bent forward.\n\n\"What's it made of ?\"\n\n\"It's made of glass blown by wizards in the mountains of Leyad. They infuse the sand with spells and blow out regularly sized panes that are put into place and then raised higher with more spells. Each of the towers is raised from a single pane of glass. The Palace was built first,\" I went on, indicating the tallest tower of all, which rose so high it caressed the fluffy underside of a cloud, \"and the city itself grew somewhat organically. Cheerful chaos, as it were.\"\n\nThe man stuck his tongue out and scribbled some more.\n\n\"Now, tell me. Who lives here ?\"\n\n\"The Palace is home to the princes of Euraith, a family descended from the very first hero this world knew, a man called Aur. He killed the monster who lived here long ago and made this world sad and gloomy.\"\n\n\"What kind of monster was it ?\"\n\n\"A giant octopus named Iselder, made of doubts and regrets. Aur slayed him using the Sword of the Morning, which is still visible here.\"\n\nAs if it were reading my thoughts, our little cloud sped towards the palace. On top of the tower, the huge sword stood on its hilt in perfect balance. \n\n\"It's now a lightning rod,\" I explained, \"When there's a storm, it calls lightning to itself and transmits the power to a battery in the bowels of the Palace. It's the main power-source for the whole city.\"\n\n\"Interesting,\" muttered the man for the first time. \n\n\"The rest of the city is home to many different people. There are Halflings and Elves, and the people of Dwr over there,\" I pointed to a group of buildings standing on the side of a great lake. The cloud floated down, affording us a view of blue humanoids going about their day.\n\n\"Over here,\" I pointed again, and in a breath of air the cloud brought us closer, \"is the University. Experts in every subject come here to learn more or to pass on their knowledge. The biggest library in the Kingdom is right there, in that mushroom-shaped tower.\"\n\nPeering through his monocle, the little man exclaimed. \"Is that an Orang-Utan ?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I smiled, \"they're the best librarians.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes. Of course. Now what's this lake ?\"\n\n\"These are the waters of Gwirion. They are so deep that nobody has ever reached the bottom, although the people of Dwr have tried. It's where thoughts are born,\" I added, after a short pause. \n\nHe nodded and started scribbling again. The sun had begun its descent over the deep blue lake, casting a warm hue over the world. The towers of the city caught and reflected it like a gigantic kaleidoscope.\n\n\"Very nice chromatic abilities,\" I caught him mumbling to himself. \n\nSlowly the cloud floated farther from the city on a gentle breeze. We were heading for the mountains.\n\n\"These are the mountains of..\" he paused, looked at his notepad, \"Leyad ?\"\n\n\"Yes. They are very old. They were already old when the Octopus came, and his reign lasted for longer than anyone can remember.\" \n\nI sighed softly. Iselder had been very hard to kill. \n\nBelow us, the prairie rushed by and eventually, a little town appeared in the foothills.\n\n\"This is Time Immemorial.\"\n\nHe looked at me curiously. \"What ?\"\n\n\"It's the name of the town. Time Immemorial.\" \n\nAs we approached, little houses became visible in the sun's setting light. They had a medieval charm to them, as did the cobbled streets and the marketplace in the middle of which stood the statue of a bearded Halfling.\n\n\"That's Oed. He was also a hero, but far older than Aur. He lived before Iselder.\"\n\n\"What did he do ?\"\n\n\"He was the First Settler. No one lived here before he did. He killed the Sgrechian..\"\n\n\"I'm sorry ?'\n\n\"The Sgrechian. They are dark, wordless beings that go where nothing else does. He drove them out and settled the land, making it possible for other people to come.\"\n\nWe looked at the statue together. Suddenly, the little man seemed to notice that the shadows were very long indeed and that two small moons had appeared in the sky above the lowest peak.\n\n\"Alright, I think I have everything I need. May we go back ?\" He asked politely and our cloud immediately sailed off, rushing towards the middle of the prairie where stood the stone arch. We climbed out and let the little cloud drift off. \n\n\"Nice touch.\" Smiled the man for the first time, examining the Arch. \n\n\"What ?\"\n\n\"The Arch. Most people don't bother to make their doorway anymore interesting. They've built so much up ahead that they forget about the entrance.\" He bent down and looked at the prairie flowers. \"May I ?\"\n\nI nodded, and he picked one, a little violet. Then he walked to the Arch, and went through. \nI found him on the other side, gathering his coat and satchel. He shook my hand and said :\n\n\"Well, miss. I'm not allowed to tell you much, but I will say I was impressed and I think you have a good chance of getting that grant. I'm especially impressed,\" he held up the small purple flower, \"that this manages to exist outside of your imagination. That's rare, and it's a gift. We will be in touch with you shortly.\"\n\nAnd with a parting bow, he left the attic. \n\n\n\n", "\"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the first annual World Creation Contest. Each year four creations will selected from Microsoft's World Creation Simulator and the people will vote for one to be actually made into a world. For now we have small scale test worlds. My name is Franklin McKay and I will be your tour guide for my world. \n\nUnlike my competitors who formulated entirely new physics systems, I borrowed most of my physics, plant life, and chemical elements from Earth. As a matter of fact, humans would be able to live here. The biggest difference is the size. The planet is only 50 square miles of temperate climate. The reason for this lies in the main idea of unity. How can a people group be united if they are so spread apart? They can't. We leaned that in the Great Fall of the Unites States in 2092. \n\nThe other difference is the lone inhabiting fauna species. They have the intelligence and body style of humans, but also have a fur coat for warmth and a tail appendage for added ease. It's a simple world that will hopefully be free from war and hate. Now if you will follow me, we will go back to the auditorium for you to vote and a winner to be announced.\"\n\n---\n\nThe announcer spoke, \"And now the winner of the World Creation Contest is: Super Kawaii J-Pop Anime World by Sakura Ikari!\" The crowd cheers, but I am in shock. All that world is is a recolored Earth with new physics to model anime. NO EFFORT! She's not even Japanese! She's from California! ", "\"It's dark.\"\n\n\"Of course it's dark. Open your eyes!\"\n\n\"... still dark.\"\n\n\"That's because there's no sun. But try looking upwards.\"\n\n\"Wow! So many stars!\"\n\n\"Yeah, makes you think, uh?\"\n\n\"It's like there are thousands... millions!\"\n\n\"They were always there, you know. You just couldn't see them because of all the clouds, city lights...\"\n\n\"Wait, don't you feel cold? I'm freezing out here!\"\n\n\"Oh, maybe you forgot to turn on your suit's heater. Here, let me help.\"\n\n\"...and now that I'm thinking... why am I wearing this respirator?\"\n\n\"Trust me, you don't want to try breathing this air. It'd freeze your lungs.\"\n\n\"But why is it so cold?\"\n\n\"I told you. There's no sun.\"\n\n\"Do you mean it's nighttime?\"\n\n\"No, I mean there's no sun. At all. Now it's always nighttime.\"\n\n\"How can that be possible? What happened to the sun?\"\n\n\"The Sky Thieves stole it. But don't worry, that was a long time ago, I don't think they're still around.\"\n\n\"I see... so, is everyone dead?\"\n\n\"Not at all! See that?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Look there, right in front of you!\"\n\n\"I don't see anything.\"\n\n\"Just follow my finger.\"\n\n\"I can't see your finger. Hell, I can't even see my own finger!\"\n\n\"Hah! You're right. Just look straight ahead, and then a bit to the left. Just under the group of four stars. Yes, those ones, the ones that are forming kind of a twisted cross.\"\n\n\"Yes, I see the cross... what am I looking for?\"\n\n\"Just where the horizon line would be... don't you see anything? Try squinting hard.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes! There's a light out there!\"\n\n\"Told you!\"\n\n\"What is it? It's like... is it flashing? Is it a star?\"\n\n\"No. It's a flashlight!\"\n\n\"You mean there are other people out here?! How so?\"\n\n\"Most likely it's an scavenging expedition. They come to check these ruins from time to time, looking for whatever stuff they can find that's still useful.\"\n\n\"Are we on top of some ruins? A city?\"\n\n\"Why don't you see by yourself? You should have a flare gun on that pocket... no, the one on your right leg. Yes. There it is! You just point it at the sky, and shoot... Oh, you also have to turn the safety switch off... no, let me help... there you go.\"\n\n\"Wow!\"\n\n\"Cool, isn't it?\"\n\n\"It's like... they are just these massive blocks of ice. One after another... and they go on and on...\"\n\n\"They used to be buildings. Still are, I guess. In the inside.\"\n\n\"I like the way the flare light reflects off them.\"\n\n\"It's haunting, isn't it? I always feel like there are ghosts watching me from the frozen empty windows when I come here... stupid, I know, but...\"\n\n\"Which city was this?\"\n\n\"I don't know. Not yet. Those guys probably do, they use the stars to orient themselves. They're pretty good at it. But for me, it's hard to navigate on an endless ice surface, you know.\"\n\n\"You can't do that?\"\n\n\"No, I'm sorry. I'm just the author, I don't live here.\"\n\n\"What about them? Do they live here in the ruins?\"\n\n\"No. Nobody lives in the ruins... well... that's not entirely true I guess. Some people do, but you don't really want to run into them. In fact, I wouldn't really go as far as to call them people, either. But those guys in front look civilized, and they have light and electricity. They probably came from an Undergarden.\"\n\n\"An Undergarden? Is that what I think it is? That sounds cool!\"\n\n\"They are! Some of them are truly huge. Their main caverns go miles deep underground, and that's not even counting the tunnels where people actually live. They have plants and trees and grass and farms, and there are also lakes and water streams. Some of them even have birds that fly around the caves!\"\n\n\"Do they have light?\"\n\n\"Of course! Light and heat. They built giant radiators to keep the caverns warm, but some of them don't even need them. You see, some of them have natural lava lakes! Can you imagine that?\"\n\n\"Whoa! Do they get their energy from the Earth's core?\"\n\n\"No. Well, they do get some from geothermal stations. But mostly it's all nuclear powered.\"\n\n\"So they still know how to build those!\"\n\n\"Sure. These guys aren't idiots. The Sky Thieves took the sun away, not their brains! In fact, they even have Internet.\"\n\n\"So they can still talk to each other across the planet?\"\n\n\"Well... no. It's not worldwide anymore. The big cables froze and broke long time ago. They talked about repairing them, but it's hard to do those things out here. So it's more like a bunch of small regional networks now. Besides, it's not like trade is what it used to be anyways.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Most Undergardens are self-sufficient. They must be, to survive. There are trade convoys from time to time, but you can't depend on them. Sometimes they get lost, or their vehicles break down and they freeze to death, or are attacked by... eh.... by them. So people have learnt to live on their own, and rely only on their closest ones.\"\n\n\"Like tribes?\"\n\n\"Exactly. Or like city-states. Sometimes three or four of them work together, in some kind of loose confederation, but most Undergardens are fiercely independent.\"\n\n\"Do they ever fight each other?\"\n\n\"Oh yes! They fight for resources, for access to the ruins, or just the usual political and religious bullshit. Some of those tribes are very weird, you see. Like the Sprova Undergarden, who thought if only they sacrificed enough children the sun would return. Eventually they managed to piss off their neighbors so much that three other cities joined together to attack them.\"\n\n\"And what happened?\"\n\n\"They invaded and fought in the caves, most of the time in complete darkness. The Sprovans had retreated into their tunnels, building traps and planting bombs. And when the invaders followed them, the tunnels collapsed on their heads, trapping them all. The battle lasted for months, and in the end the Sprova Undergarden was no more, though some say there are still people living in those closed off tunnels...\"\n\n\"Wow... that sounds awful. So people are still fighting each other... that's... not so different.\"\n\n\"I guess not. People are always people.\"\n\n\"So, about that internet you said they have... do they still have Reddit?\"" ]	9
	[WP] "...what nobody knows, is that they are, indeed, real..."	[ "Off once more, down the bend and into the night. Into the darkened abyss of unknown, never quite knowing what the next few seconds hold. Those reaching out never quite knowing the impact on others...\r\rCrying as the late night stars track the night sky, a lonely Moon casting light to our expedition. Another late call, flying away bemoaning the wretched curse of a call. They never quite able to grasp the weight each beckoning's sound makes. \r\rNever able to grasp how real they are, never quite able to contemplate they take on another's soul. For another faceless name I forget, as I drop my tube. Another chart as I stare off, slowly the mind becoming numb, they used to be real.\r\rNow a figment of my horror, following me in the shadows as the weigh me down...", "\"...What nobody knows, is that they are indeed, real...\" Grandpa says as he closes the storybook.\n\"Ok young one, i think its about time you fell asleep.\" He says, exiting my room and flicking off the light. Just as the darkness envelopes my little niche and my eyelids fall heavily closed, a faint whisper breaks through the silence. \n\"Pika-Pika\"\nMy journey has begun.", "\"-what nobody knows, is that they are, indeed, real.\"\n\nI leaned to my right, towards Ben, the young fellow who was sat across from the well bosomed and equally well boozed Mrs Loverlutts, and said quietly: \"No they're not.\"\n\nShe continued her speech to the others that were sat around us, man and women alike were entranced by her medically enhanced cleavage. \n\nBen turned his gaze, slowly, from her to me. The poor boy was sweating from the effort of not staring at the Madam's massive mammaries. Poor kid. Had always been told not to stare - but that was precisely what she wanted him to do, which is why she kept bringing them up.\n\nBen was young, maybe nineteen or so, and not yet used to the characters one encounters at these sorts of gatherings. The dinner party was forty people strong, not including Waitstaff and the like, and the whole troop was sat at one long table in an elaborately ornated hall. It was old fashioned in style, but the hosts had thrown some money to get some automated staff - the robots hummed and wheeled quietly about there business, collecting and supplying meals.\n\nBen, Mrs Loverlutts, and I were down the far end - far from the hosts - with the other seat fillers and invited-as—a favor types.\n\nMrs Loverlutts was a fixture at these sorts of things. It wasn't a high society party without her jiggling somewhere during the proceedings - especially as the night raged on and the liquor poured - that said, no one of any note wanted to be seen socializing with her. \n\nI suspect her invitations are payment to keep the affairs of the local aristocracy out of public conversation. Plus, well, she was like a lava lamp. She was fun to watch and certainly drew everyone's eyes...\n\nEveryone, that is, except the strong willed Ben. From what I know, he's the Nephew of a somewhat wealthy merchant. He's an orphan. Quiet, and very bright - goes to the local medical college. Already making a name for himself there. The kid was invited just in case he does in fact become a big name doctor. The host and hostess want to be able to say \"Oh, yes, we're old friends of his, had him over for dinner all the time.\"\n\nMe?\n\nI'm a nobody. My name pops up in the paper from time to time.\n\nI'm a detective...of the private variety. I don't have a badge, but the pay is...well, worse, actually. But I choose my own hours.\n\nWhich is probably why the pay ain't great.\n\nI weaseled an invite by playing the I'm a local celebrity card - and called in a favor with an old friend or two. I wanted to be here.\n\nWhy?\n\nWhy do you think? \n\nSomeone's going to be murdered.\n\nEdit: Typo. What a confused mess. Sleepy-writey funness!\n\nedit 2: Please note that characters I write about are ficticious and in no way representative of person or persons within the community. Truth be told I come here and write and pay little mind to the names above the comments and stories. The original character names were entirely coincidental, please be assured that they were in no way intenteded to be an attack." ]	3
	[WP] Your boss keeps confusing his day job with his night job.	[ "“WHERE THE FUCK IS MERCEDES?”\n\n“Ah, ma’am, your Mercedes is parked right outside.”\n\n“Oh, right, thanks Mitch. Ah, how is the bookings report coming?”\n\n“Still waiting on Rich to get back. Anything else you need me to do in the mean time?”\n\n“Yeah, could you pick up for Hershey tomorrow? She’ll be unable to perform for the next few days.”\n\n“Um, ok. Do you want like a chocolate bar or syrup or something?”\n\n“Oh, ah, yeah, for that office party we are having. In the next few days. Get the syrup. And some whipped cream. Lots of whipped cream. And some cherries.”\n\n“What about ice cream?”\n\n“What about ice cream? It’s too messy. Whipped cream is easier. Easier to put on and take off.”\n\n“So you want an office party with hershey’s syrup, whipped cream, and cherries?”\n\n“Yeah.”\n\n“What are we going to put it on?”\n\n“That’s a dumb question. We are putting it on ourselves”\n\n“…”\n\n“I mean, we are putting it on ourselves. We are the ones putting it on other things. Other things like uh…um…”\n\n“Ice cream?”\n\n“Yes, that. Ice cream. Get whatever flavors you want?”\n\n“I personally like strawberry. Are you okay with that?”\n\n“Oooh, Strawberry. Like the Reds, huh. You know, for a little extra, she’ll take you out back and…” Wink wink\n\n“Ma’am?”\n\n“Yes, we’ll have to take the ice cream out the back, so the others don’t see it.”\n", "\n “Jon!” my boss screamed from across the office. Everyone’s head perked up slightly above their cubicle and all eyes became fixed on my flushed face. “I said, Jon! That means, get your ass in here, now” he shouted again. Everyone sank back in their box and I hurriedly made my way to the boss’ office. “Close the door behind you”, he said with his feet propped up on his desk. Normally, my boss was a force to be reckoned with – this man never had an off day, was clean cut, sharp, and rarely missed a step. But today he was different, something was troubling him. He didn’t have to say anything, I…everyone could tell something was deeply wrong. His usually carefully parted hair lay flat across his forehead, his tie askew from his bent collar, his pants were marked with dirt and grease, and his limp hand dangled from his armrest with a crystal glass of gin carelessly wavering over the floor. Most people figured him and his wife were arguing again or that we didn’t make our monthly quota. \n\nReluctantly, I started the conversation with him to try and diffuse the tension. “Sir, what seems to be the matter?”\n\nHe brought the glass to his mouth and took a sizable swig of the remaining gin. He let out a deep sigh and pulled his feet off the desk and leaned into to face me. “Jon, I asked you to take care of things, and now look, I’ve got people from all over asking if I held up my part of the deal. What do you think I’m supposed to tell them, exactly? That the new guy was an incompetent sack of crap? Jon, you really put me in a predicament here, well yourself, honestly. Sure this all reflects poorly on me, but you realize what I have to do if this happens again, right?” \n\n“Look boss, I did what you asked of me. I sent the emails, made the copies, I even made sure to actualize the budget reports before lunch yesterday. I’m just an associate, you only hired me a month ago.” I could tell this confused him greatly. He laid back in his chair and looked at me for a few seconds with a puzzled face. “If anything boss, I’m just sure you pulled a long night here at the office and need some rest or coffee, how about I go fetch you some Joe in the meantime?”\n\nHis eyes moved around the room and he began squinting at his watch. He leaned back and plied is window blinds open, allowing a ray of light to cascade across his Rolex. It was about 10 in the morning at this point and I could see the realization before he even said anything. “Wow, you’re right. I just need some rest, it has been a long night. I’m going to call it day, if anyone needs me say I’m out of the office, Jon.” \n\n“Anything you say, boss”, I said. \n\nHe got up and grabbed his coat from the chair and began to put it on. He finished off the remaining sip of gin in the glass and began to collect all the papers on his desk and put them in his leather briefcase. He took a brief moment to fix his tie and corral his hair, making sure that his image wasn’t completely tarnished amidst his employees. \n\n“Oh, boss, one last thing”, I said catching him just before he opened the office door to head out. He turned and looked over his shoulder towards me, his ear directly facing me. “I took care of everything last night, too. Rest easy.”\n\nHe turned his head back towards the door and his hand remained on the door knob. “Good work kid, glad to see someone isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty.”\n" ]	2
	[WP] Write an eulogy for a suicide victim.	[ "We're here today to say good-bye to our late friend, Matthew, who we can all agree left this world too soon with too much left undone. The circumstances of his passing were as tragic as they were sudden. Some would say selfish, uncaring, and unforgivable. To those I simply have to ask, If in his shoes what would you have done differently? He sought therapy, medication, and ways to heal and in the end they all failed him. \n\n Matthew was a wonderful and beautiful soul, but a tormented one. Not broken or damaged, but tormented, and in my mind he showed great resiliency, strength and resolve in his struggles. He simply reached the end of his resources and sought an end to his suffering. For that I cannot lay blame or condemnation. To wish further life on him would only continue to prolong his suffering and pain, and and as his friend and someone who loved him, I could never wish this upon him. I can only hope that now, he is at peace and finally free of the bleak and crushing reality that kept him prisoner for so many years. \n\n I remember sitting with him a few years ago and hearing him describe the emotional and psychological torments he had to endure on a daily basis and I only wished in that moment that he could be free of it. In the worst possible way he finally is, and for that I find this moment bittersweet. I have lost a friend and a loved one, but I know now that those things will torture him no longer. \n\nIn a moment like this, I believe we need to remember Matthew at his best, those rare times that he actually smiled and enjoyed being with people. It's in those moments that if we could see him now, we would see this reflection of this true and untainted form of our friend. \n\nAnd that's how we should choose to remember him.", "Today, we are gathered to celebrate the life of a treasured friend, beloved daughter, wonderful wife, loving sister and adored niece. In this time of grief, I know many of us are asking ourselves \"Why? Why would she do this?\" and to that question, I have no answers. \n\nMy daughter was the most caring, happy person I have ever met. Perhaps this is because, as many say, the saddest people tend to smile the brightest. My daughter struggled with depression since she was a young girl, and I have been privileged to witness her strength and depth of love for the people around her. It is this strength and love that kept her with us for so long. I know everyone wants to know why she would do this, or what they could have done differently to prevent her from leaving us, I certainly want to know. What I do know is that even on her darkest of days, she still tried to make me smile, she still cared about how those around her were doing, and even when she was at her lowest point, she still did all she could to help those around her. \n\nSarah took her own life. I will have to get used to saying this. So will my husband, so will hers. So will my brothers and sisters, so will our children. But even though it was by her own hand that she is no longer with us, I must believe that this was how it was meant to be, that God had reached out to her and told her that it was okay to leave now, that she didn't have to fight any more, that we would be okay without her. My daughter was a beautiful person, and without her, the light in my life is gone. I have been blessed with the opportunity to watch my daughter grow from a helpless infant, into a wonderful child, and into the strongest person I have or will ever know. \n\nHer favorite poem was Invictus by William Earnest Henley. She once told me that it was this poem which gave her the strength to finally ask me for help, and later, as it was being tattooed onto her back, that it was these words alone that reminded her that she could fight this, could fight herself, her very mind. \n\n\"Out of the night that covers me,\nBlack as the pit from pole to pole,\nI thank whatever gods may be\nFor my unconquerable soul.\n\n\"In the fell clutch of circumstance\nI have not winced nor cried aloud.\nUnder the bludgeonings of chance\nMy head is bloody, but unbowed.\n\n\"Beyond this place of wrath and tears\nLooms but the Horror of the shade,\nAnd yet the menace of the years\nFinds, and shall find me, unafraid.\n\n\"It matters not how strait the gate,\nHow charged with punishments the scroll,\nI am the master of my fate:\nI am the captain of my soul.\"\n\nMy daughter was amazing, strong and wonderful, and she had so much love and strength in her, I do believe that God saw that she would do wonderful things by his side. My Sarah fought her hardest, and for that I will always be grateful, and I should like to think that she is with all of us still, in her own way - whether you remember her for the way she used to make people laugh and smile, or for her way of making everyone feel as if things would all be alright no matter how the situation turned out, sometimes without saying a word.\n\nToday, all of us say goodbye to someone who made our lives better, more whole. She is at peace with herself, and sad though we may be, I know that she would want us to remember her for the person she was always fighting so hard to be. " ]	2
"Hi my name is John and I'm addicted to killing coeds"	[WP] What if there were groups like Alcoholics Anonymous but for serial killers?	[ "It was much more frightening than she'd thought it would have been, speaking to this group. Grace knew all these people were... troubled, just like her. They had urges, things that they felt they had to do. She was in good company here, but something about speaking to people who were able to speak back.\n\n\"Alright everyone, take your seats please.\" About 14 or 15 people sat in uncomfortable folding metal chairs in a rough circle. A few had cups of the discount industrial coffee from the beverage table near the door. They all at least looked normal. All ages, races, shapes and sizes. \"Welcome to the group. You don't have to talk, but if you want to, just stand up, state your name, and tell us your story. No pressure, whenever you're ready.\" He sat down, and almost immediately a wiry man with thinning red hair stood.\n\n\"My name is Allen.\" Allen waited for the group to respond before continuing. \"It started when I was 10. My teacher had given me a bad grade, the first grade below a B I'd ever gotten. And then I just saw red, and when I came back, she was dead. Ever since, I've been killing people, mostly people like my boss, police officers, people in positions of authority.\" He looked down at his hands, twisting a ring about his pinky. \"As of today, it will have been 6 months and 18 days since I last killed. I've been employed for 2 of those months now, and hopefully, with the support of this group, I won't kill my new boss.\" He sat down, and breathed a deep sigh of relief as the group applauded.\n\n\"Thank you for starting us off, Allen. I know it's difficult to talk first, and it's certainly not the first time Allen has spoken, but now that he has, who would like to speak next?\" The group leader asked. Grace scanned the group before standing.\n\n\"Hi, I... I'm Grace.\" The group greeted her as one. \"I'm 19, and I've killed three people so far. The first was my roommate, Stacey. She... She was the most beautiful, smart, funny, sexy woman I'd ever known, and she just never learned. I kept dropping hint after hint, and she ignored them.\" Grace felt her face growing hot, so she paused to take a deep breath.\n\n\"The last straw was when she brought a boy back to the room. I had to sit there and listen to the... to the woman I loved, getting her brains fucked out by some... some... footballer douche!\" She paused again. A few people were nodding in agreement, one looked on the verge of crying. \"The next day, I sat her down, and I just poured out my heart to her. I told her everything. And she just gives me this look, this false pity, as she took my heart and crushed it. She didn't even notice the roofie in her drink, and she definitely wasn't expecting to wake up tied to a chair. I was bent, determined to make her reciprocate something. I slit her throat three days later.\"\n\nGrace wiped away a tear that was beginning to form. Two people in the group had beaten her to crying. \"The next was Francine. She loved me back, but it felt hollow. I had given everything to Stacey, and now with someone who loved me, it wasn't the same. I did the same thing to her, the roofie and the duct tape. When she died, it felt good. It felt right. Kelly was just trying to feel that again, but now there's nothing. I just feel... empty.\" Deep breath. \"It's been two weeks since I last killed. Thanks for listening.\" She flopped back into her seat with a sigh. The group applauded.\n\n\"Well, Grace, good to finally meet you. You've been coming to these meetings for a while now, and it's nice to finally hear your story.\" The group leader addressed her, smiling. \"Now, we'll have a quick coffee break, and then back into the meeting, okay? Break.\"", "\nThe sight is a very normal one. A group of people of all ages, race and genders sitting on a chair in a circle. On the wall facing away from the door, a handmade banner with the words ‘K Anonymous’ written in a suspicious red colour hangs from it’s top corners. \n\n“Hello everybody, my name is Mandy.” A woman, looking to be barely 20 years of age said. “I am addicted to killing the guys I meet on craiglist. It has been three months since I last killed someone.”\n\nA round of applause, and a ‘Congratulations Mandy’ chorus from the people in the room. \n\nMandy smiles a little and sat down, and the person next to her stood up. \n\n“Hey everyone. I’m John, and I am addicted to killing people in pubs. Since my slip up before the last session, I haven’t gone to a pub in a week.”\n\nAnother chorus of ‘Congratulations John’ came from the seated group. One man even gave him a thumbs up. \n\n“Right,” said the person seated directly under the banner. “It seems that we have somebody new today. Would you care to introduce yourself?” A hand gestured at the man in the hoodie seated right next to John. \n\n“Hi everybody. My name is Dave.” The man standing up fidgeted for a little, placed both hands into his hoodie’s pocket and took in a deep breath.\n\nA reply of ‘Hello Dave’ came from the seated audience, and Dave gave a small smile. \n\n“I am addicted to killing serial killers. And it will be 0 days since I last killed.”" ]	2
	[WP] A rogue black hole has entered the solarsystem. Humanity watches the spectacle in both horror and amazement. This couldn't possibly end well	[ "In Livingston, Louisiana, the advanced LIGO (Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory) had been sensing huge anomalies for months, and before the odd disappearance of New Horizons probe, researchers assumed the equipment was malfunctioning. Once the pieces became available, the greatest minds in the world began to put the puzzle together. \n\n...\n\nDr. Ray Elrich felt incredibly under-dressed to be speaking with the President of the United States. He was a short, bald, sweaty man and his demeanor did not command respect the way that every member of his audience appeared to. A panel of high ranking military officers and other unrecognizable government officials stared as if they were already annoyed by his presence before he even began to speak.\n\nThe President stepped into the room, sat down, and nodded for Ray to begin.\n\n\"Six months after the New Horizons probe passed by Pluto, an odd thing happened. The probe began to accelerate away from the sun at an impossible pace. The probe was not exactly sauntering by Pluto when it flew by at 51,000 miles per hour, but right before we lost contact, the signal from the probe started to red-shift slightly, and according to the math, the probe had accelerated to almost 6 million miles per hour. And then... nothing.\"\n\nDr. Elrich took a deep breath to prepare himself for the next words he had to say. He placed his palms on the beautiful mahogany conference table, leaving large, wet prints when he removed them.\n\n\"The Hubble telescope was then pointed towards Pluto, almost immediately gravitational lensing of the background stars was visible, the tell-tale fingerprint of a black hole. \"\n\nThe board room was uncharacteristically silent for what seemed like hours. All the menacing, self-important faces around the table had turned to pale frightened children. The President spoke.\n\n\"What can we do about this?\"\n\nDr. Elrich raised his eyebrows, almost in confusion. He shook his head slightly from side to side and whispered. \"Nothing.\"\n\n\"What does that mean, damnit!?\" The President slammed his fist down, immediately regretting his action and massaging his injured hand.\n\n\"All we know is, it's coming toward us... roughly. We don't know how fast, but we do know that it will pass through the solar system, and when it does, that's the end.\"\n\n\"The end?\"\n\n\"Of everything. Humans, life on Earth, the planet itself. Even the solar system, if the individual bodies are not destroyed, they will be flung away from the sun like trees in a tornado.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you warn us sooner!? Why couldn't you see this coming! We've funneled billions of dollars into NASA to detect all the dangerous things that could collide with Earth.\"\n\nRay sighed. \n\n\"I could give you the explanations, but they wouldn't mean much to you. The gist of it is that we've been searching for guns, but haven't seen this one because it's the size of a cannon, and we're looking straight down the barrel.\"\n\n...\n\nThe president gave no speech about bravery or the human spirit. There were no more votes to be cast, or campaign donors to impress. \"Spend time with your families.\" He said as he ordered the full extraction of all military forces from combat. \n\nHe was hailed as a great humanitarian, and condemned as a coward from the other half. There was no doomsday announcement. His board of advisers suggested that people would be better off not knowing, not spending our last couple months looting and rioting.\n\nRay had his arm around his wife Victoria on the couch as they watched the President's speech. He had become a much more affectionate husband and father in the past week, and it was a change that she very much appreciated. He had taken a sabbatical from work and had been playing Candyland with Olivia all morning before the President's address to the nation.\n\n\"Oh wow! I wonder why this is happening. Do you think there has been some kind of breakthrough in relations with the middle east?\" Victoria turned excitedly to her husband, who had a tear on his cheek.\n\n\"Yeah. Yeah, probably.\" Ray wiped the tear from his face and nodded toward it, smiling. \"I'm just really happy for all those people that get to come home.\"\n\nRay kissed his wife on the forehead, and stood. \"I think I'm going to spend some time in my office.\"\n\n...\n\nRay punched the coordinates into his computer. He had a very large and expensive personal telescope, with the ability to lock on to a portion of sky and track it throughout the night to absorb more light. He had kept his telescope pointed at Pluto for the past week, and it was not quite where it was supposed to be. Over the past four days, Pluto had whipped into a tangent, now traveling perpendicular to it's orbital plane. Amateur astronomers would take notice of this very soon, and in the next few days, the whole world would know that it's time was up. Now that the black hole was affecting a planetary body, more accurate predictions could be made about it's size and trajectory. Ray was compelled to learn more about it. Even if it meant neglecting his family for the precious little time he had left with them. He had to know precisely what was going to happen. Ray knew he couldn't dodge the black hole, or divert it somewhere else, but he just felt that there was something he could do.\n\n...\n\nThere was nothing he could do.\n\nRay had spent 52 sleepless, bloodshot hours with his colleagues at NASA, and they all agreed. The black hole was 3.5 solar masses, and it would pass within 3 million miles of the sun in 3 months, a hair's breadth in astronomical terms. Earth will have revolved around to the side during the time of the collision, so it would be the most breath-taking event that anyone would have the privilege of experiencing as their last moment. Ray left work for the last time to go home.\n\n...\n\nThe looting and violence dissipated faster than anyone anticipated. Eventually after everyone let their initial rage and fear out, people realized that they still needed to eat, and sleep, and even though the world was going to end, they still got bored and needed entertainment. The world was going to end, but not for another couple months. Ray spent every waking moment with his wife and daughter, wishing there was more time. Olivia would often ask why he and mommy were crying, but they never found a good answer to give her. She was only four years old, and they wanted every moment of her life to be full of joy.\n\n...\n\nThe time had finally come. Ray and Victoria each took one of Olivia's hands, and they walked into the crisp air, and sat down on the browning grass. Olivia played, and ran and jumped, but in a final selfish act, Ray insisted that she stop playing and sit on his lap, so he could hold her. \n\nThey turned their heads to the sky and watched as an invisible abomination tore the sun to ribbons of swirling plasma, ripping it apart. The sun coughed and sputtered violently as it did a terrible dance around the nothing that was eating it. It wrenched one last time and turned the entire sky red. Ray felt the heat on his face.\n", "A murmur passed through the crowd standing before the huge screen hanging above the square. Cars and buses were stationary, drivers and passengers hanging out of their windows to stare at the scene unfolding above them. A black hole, identified by NASA just hours earlier. They had been testing a new deep space satellite designed for planetary analysis when J3457, the planet several million light years away they had been studying, had simply vanished. Within seconds, the readout had resumed, but instead of a planet, they were now looking at a black hole. Now the crowd watched as the void steadily moved, sucking in light and particles, as if pulling itself along by it's mouth. It was headed straight for them.\n\n216 DAYS LATER\n\nAs the days went by, a hesitant normality had returned to the people. Everyone knew it was coming, and that Earth would be destroyed by the forces of its approach. As it moved towards them, they would be drawn to it, as would the sun and the other planets. The chaotic process would rend their planet. \n\nBut today, that normalcy was again shattered. Reports showed that the black hole was accelerating, so quickly that the calculations suggested an impossibility. By the time the black hole entered the solar system, physicists theorised, it would be traveling so fast that it would outpace gravity itself. It would become a supergravatonic missile, with a contrail of planets and stars marking it's path as they were torn from their orbits but unable to catch up.\n\nThe timescale was changed to minutes. But there was no panic as the televisions and radios announced this. There simply wasn't time to be afraid. Everyone understood that what they would witness was the end of Man. But they would witness it, in exquisite destruction.\n\nAnd then it hit. One milisecond someone had begun to open their mouth as they stared upwards. And miliseconds later, even as the sound escaped him, the sky had changed and the moon had vanished. A massive trail appeared in the sky, as if Earth had alighted on one of Saturn's rings. And then an impression formed across the minds of world. It wasn't spoken, it was simply there.\n\nWE HAVE RELOCATED YOU AS FORCES APPROACH YOUR GALAXY. YOU WILL BE SA-\n\nPockets of light erupted across the sky above them. The war had begun." ]	2
	[WP] A man has been committed to an asylum due to his ranting about the seven signs of the end of days, and only God has shown him the way to salvation. He is ignored until his first omen comes true and makes world news.	[ "2 guards half drag, half walk me through the corridor. Their boots clap on the concrete and bounce all over. It amkes me sick. I count their steps to distract myself from the echo and the grips on my arms.\n\n75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80.\n\nWe stop and turn right, twice in quick succession. A door opens with a jam on the doorknob. Metal on metal, no wood or small clockwork. Nothing human about this place. No emotion.\n\nA chair is pulled up, scraping on the hard floor. The screeching doesn't sound nice.\nThe guards turn me around and dump me in the chair, after which they apply some sort of restraints on my hands and feet. The cold metal send shivers along my arms, through my spine into my neck. I hate this place already, I'd rather go back to my 6 by 6 cell.\n\nThe guards leave and two clanks tells me the door is closed and locked.\nI hear her immediatly. Her calm and shallow breaths bounce around the room. She's probably on the other side of the table, and behind her one of those one-way mirrors people use to watch the people in the room.\n\n\"Hello Nathan\", the woman calmly said. Her voice was colder than the cooling cell his father had back in the nineties, and contained all of his malice, although it was hidden behind a thick wall of contempt and pity.\n\nI see red glowing ashes, stirring up, flowing in front of me.\nThere is someone special nearby. One of the chosen. They already found me. Guess this is it then.\n\n\"You can call me Amy. I work for a goverment agency. I am here because if some things you said before your assault on your daughter. Could you repeat some of those phrases for me, Nathan ?\". \n\n\"I want my lawyer\".\n\n\"You don't need a lawyer, Nathan\".\n\n\"I said, I want my lawyer\". The ashes are fuzzing on front of my eyes. A headache is starting to grow. Maybe it's her.\n\n\"We have arranged your release into my custody if you are willing to cooperate with me, Nathan. Which means that you can see your daughter before you know it\".\n\nI was already done talking to this woman. Her very presence in this room felt insulting. This room, this straightjacket, this chair, the visions God was sending me. They were insulting. I wanted to go back to my cell. Everyone left me alone in my cell.\n\n\"I'm sorry, that was rude. Seeing. Not very professional, is it ?\".\n\n\"If you're not giving me a lawyer, then take me back to my cell\", I said a little more desperate than I intended to sound.\n\n\"I'm afraid I need your help Nathan. A lot of people do\".\n\n\"I don't care.\".\n\n\"Do you care about Michelle ?\".\n\nI tried to lurch out of my seat. I spat and spasmed when she said her name, cursing her without speaking. Strangling her without wrapping my hands around her neck. How dare she speak her name. \n\nFor as far as I could tell, she didn't move a muscle. Probably staring at me with some unflinching glare, just like the people behind the glass.\n\n\"I thought so. Which is why I came. To tell you about her. From what we gathered from your...speaches, we believe that you believe that she has some role to play in the 'apocalyps'.\".\n\n\"I want my lawyer\". I said that with as much disgust as I could. I will not let these people control me. Use me. Not again. Not ever again.\n\n\"We understand that you have a complicated relationship with her. We found a positive pregnancy test, and everywhere she went, people started having heart attack, brain hemorrages and pure exhaustion, all out of nowhere. A child born of great sin and evil is destroying those around it before it is even born. It will suck the life out of everyone and everything around her. As it will ultimately consume the world, along with six other individuals. You had visions of these people, correct ?\".\n\nIt hit me then. It was my fault. It was all my fault. If would have been a better father, if I wouldn't have allowed the world to turn on me, on the two of us like this, destroying us bit by bit. The world is going to suffer the deaths of billions. And she will let me live through it all. Let me suffer, let the world know of my failure and have it burn because of me.\n\n\"We may not have a chance, mister Honduras. But we don't want to let the world die while we stand on the sidelines. We want to fight for it. Tooth and nail, until the end. But we need you to help us. We need to stop her. Help us, Nathan\".\n\nAs much as I dislike everything in this room, I couldn't help but notice the sincerity in her voice. Fine. Fuck it, why not. The chance of success of this is too small to measure, but if these people really think they stand a chance, they can give it their best shot.\n\n\"In the ashes I see faces. The first face I saw was Michelle. Her face was marked with 3 sixes. I see her swallow souls around her. I see several more faces I don't recognize. One of them spreads despair through his bleeding hands, another spreads an indestructable army of invisible killers. A pair of twins combine to form a creature that paints the skies bloodred. An asian woman spreads lies and deceit, false hope. And at last I see a skull, grabbing the earth in its jaw. And crushes it. That's the short version\".\n\nThe ashes die away. Only darkness. The woman tries to say something, but I can't hear her anymore. I'm suddenly growing very tired, and the headache is getting worse. I smell blood. My own.\n \n\n", "Everyone was silent. The scene in the room was familiar, people huddled around a TV, hanging on to every word and image that the set produced. If a snapshot of the care home had been taken, you could have told someone it was the World Cup final and they would not have bat an eyelid. However the scene on the screen was unfortunately also familiar. Flick on the foreign news on any day and you were likely to see something awfully similar from around the globe, but it had been a long time since it had happened so close to home. Not since the underground bombings had the people of London had to deal with anything like the carnage which lay before them. The rubble covered suits, the normally reserved citizens of the city sobbing openly into each other's shoulders, the blood. Despite the silence in the room, everybody knew what the other person was thinking. In 2001 when the World Trade Towers were hit, the western world was able to savour a childlike innocence for a few hours, comforted by the definite possibility that this was all just a horrible accident. Then the second plane missiled itself into the South Tower and those people who had the pleasure of never entering a combat zone in their life were suddenly thrown into the nationwide war on terror. So when the breaking news alert came on, when the headline read out \"explosion at Canary Wharf\", when the news presenters started their speculations, everyone in the room knew where this was heading. Apart from one person.\n\nThe images laid before her struck Nurse Roberts deep within herself. Everyone in the room was shocked and sad, but she was scared. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, eventually something like this was bound to happen, a broken clock is still right twice a day she thought to herself. However, whether it was just a toxic mix of adrenaline and paranoia or not, Nurse Roberts still needed to put her mind to rest. She slowly slipped out of the room and gently pushed close the door behind her, lest anyone question her exit. \n\nAs she strode down the hallway, towards the residents bedrooms, she played back the various thoughts circling her consciousness at that moment. “Don’t worry about me Miss Roberts, it shan’t be long till I’m playing bingo in the sky, looking down at this miserable place and laughing”, was one of the more memorable prattles she could remember. \"You don't do these drugs do you Nurse? You seem like a respectable lady and I would hate for you to be caught up in the mess that is going to start soon.\" Another quote which stuck in her memory, but not one for which she was looking. \n\nWhat were the 7 things he had always cycled through? Nurse Roberts was beginning to get frustrated with herself, she had heard it so many times how could it possibly be evading her memory now? She paused for a moment to think one last time before she entered his room and put her mind to rest, trying desperately to recall his endless ramblings so that she didn't have to hear the same lecture for the next week about the importance of listening. \"Those with the love of money will die clutching to their spouse.\" An approving bell rang in the nurses head. That was the phrase that was tightening her clenched fists, shortening her breath and pulling her away from the biggest news story of the year to go and talk to an old, disabled, schizophrenic. When she remembered how vague the prediction was she sighed a breath full of relief and turned to head back to the recreation room. Then, with an somewhat proud sense that Mr Langley's ramblings had actually settled somewhere in her memory, she pushed open the door to his bedroom with a light knock.\n\n\"Mr Langley it's Nurse Roberts I think there is a news story that you are going to…\"\n\nHalfway through her sentence she realised that the intended recipient of her words was not where he should have been. \"Strange\", she muttered to herself. The bed was empty, more than that it was neatly made. In fact the whole room looked strangely clean, save for the same pile of papers that had lain at the foot of the bed for the past 4 years. \n\n5 minutes into her search for Mr Langley she should have informed someone else. 10 minutes in she certainly should've, yet the returning shortness of breath was stopping her. When she had exhausted her search and an official alarm should certainly have been raised, Nurse Roberts found herself returning to the missing Mr Langley's room and searching instead through his collection of papers, notebooks, scraps and newspaper clippings. MP spending loopholes, drug gangs, bankers bonuses, pedophiles in the church, figures of children killed in foreign wars, drunkards filling the streets, homeless folk dying in the streets, it was a vivid portrait of the unpleasant side of the world. Written all over the newspaper stories of corruption and scandal were bible quotes, condemning the guilty and professing their only form of salvation was in the Lord himself. However despite the melodrama of this collection, it was his notebook that Nurse Roberts was interested in, the predictions and drawings of the retribution that Mr Langley had repeatedly claimed would befall all those involved in his pool of misdoings.\n\nWhen she picked it up though, her fists tightened a little more, her breath shortened a little further and the situation became frighteningly real. This was not the notebook that was there a few hours previously. This was not the notebook that chronicled the beliefs which constituted a huge part of the reason why Mr Langley had been committed to a psychiatric care home in the first place. This was not the notebook that predicted in great detail the 7 catastrophic events that would soon befall the guilty of the world. This was not the scattershot delusions which the nurse had seen her patient scribble down over the previous years. This notebook she had never seen before. This notebook which had been left in is place had writing, very neat writing, on only one page at the very front. This page read:\n\n'Now you are listening.\n \n~~1. Those who hold money above others~~\n\n2. Those who send others to kill\n\n3. Those who intoxicate the world\n\n4. Those who corrupt the young \n\n5. Those who ignore the poor\n\n6. Those who leech upon others\n\n7. Those who have turned their backs on God. \n\nAmen.'\n\nNurse Roberts slid down the wall until she was hunched over with the piece of paper still firmly in her hands. This is a joke, right? Things like this don’t happen in real life. She had to go and tell someone else, as soon as a reasonable voice who hadn’t been around Mr Langley’s constant doomsday speeches found out what she was worried about they would surely put all her fears to rest. All it would take was a second set of eyes and another brain walking her through the likelihood of this situation for her trembling nerves to be calmed.\n\nSo two feet stormed back along the hallway, carrying the trembling nurse back towards her colleagues. She handled the door just as carefully as before and slipped back into the room, hoping no-one had noticed her departure. The swinging face of her friend the second she entered the room let her know otherwise.\n\n“Mary, where on Earth have you been?”\n\n“I was just getting a glass of water, is there any chance we could just chat outside for a…” Nurse Robert’s voice was once again cut short.\n\n“You haven’t seen the news yet have you?”\n\n“Yes of course I was just with you, the bomb, Canary Wharf.”\n\n“No Mary, look!”\n\nAs the nurse glanced back over to the television her heart sank, her knees weakened and the second of Mr Langley’s gruesome predictions suddenly flashed back into her memory. The news reporters frantic look and the ticker-tape headline both said the same thing. Another attack. This time at Parliament. A group of armed men were holding the top politicians of the country hostage, the kneeling men and women with hands clasped behind their heads, ring-fenced by a daisy chain of explosives. As Nurse Roberts began to faint and the darkness started to sweep across her eyes, the only thing she could think of was the words currently racing around and around her mind.\n\n“After the money grubbers, next will come the corrupt elite, forced to bend their knee in their final hour.”\n\nAs she drifted off she knew soon she would have to remember the 5 more left to come." ]	2
	[WP] MH370 was just the beginning. The number of planes mysteriously disappearing has suddenly skyrocketed. Now almost every week another flight disappears.	[ "Oliver sat in his lab going over the same formulas he had been staring at for months.\n\n\"I can't look at this anymore. I've checked and rechecked them as many times as I can. Let's do this.\"\n\nOliver turned and walked away from his whiteboard. Walking down the hallway to the laboratory, he wondered what time it was. He glanced at the digital clock in the hallway. Broken. \n\n\"That's about right...\", he thought to himself, \"its probably mid morning by now. We've been at this all night.\"\n\nIn the control room, Frank was waiting patiently for his boss to finish his tedious work. Oliver walked in and headed straight to the computer terminal. \n\n\"I'm turning it on.\"\n\nFrank looked up from his desk and slowly rose. Watching in awe at what he thought was about to happen. \n\nHe turned the switch on. The device hummed to life. Both were still and staring through the glass into the room with the device. A few seconds passed, and a look of confusion sets in. Other than a few energy spikes, nothing is happening. \n\n\"This isn't how we thought it would do in our simulations. Why isn't it creating a stable field?\", Frank asked, and continued after a short pause, \" Shut it down.\"\n\nOliver agreed. Looking defeated he shut it down. The humming began to fade away. Eventually there was silence.\n\nThey both looked at each other, and decided that was enough for today. They had both been working long hours, and needed the rest. The lights shut automatically off as they left the room. Frank had parked on the opposite side of the building so he said his farewells and headed to his car. Oliver headed home.\n\nPulling into his driveway, he felt a vibration in his pocket. It was a breaking news alert about a missing Malaysian airliner. He thought nothing of it, and put his phone away. He went straight to bed. Exhausted from the long work hours. \n\n", "\"Where are they all going?\"\n\nMatt's editor had a habit of making obvious statements when the print deadline approached. Brigette, sitting opposite Matt, glanced up, first in the direction of the editor's desk, then to Matt, then back at her monitor. It would have been pointless to answer the question, just as pointless as it was to ask it. Nobody knew where the planes were going, how they were getting there, or whether there was any hope for the thousands of passengers who had disappeared without a trace.\n\nThat evening marked the third disappearance of the month. A Fokker F28 had disappeared somewhere over Lybia, necessitating a huge amount of guesswork by the newsdesk who had received no help whatsoever from the Lybian authorities. Matt was in the process of writing headlines for the story, which had been bumped back to page six. Earlier in the week, an A380 had vanished near Vancouver - due to the arbitrary way in which newsworthiness is decided, the British public were most interested in the disappearance of larger planes. The An-24 that had gone missing from Murmask the previous Saturday had gone largely unnoticed. Even the Airbus was pretty boring news by now, it being the tenth such aircraft to drop off the radar since the start of the year.\n\n\"Where are they going, Matt.\" The editor had appeared by Matt's desk, the sentence a statement more than a question. \"I really don't understand this.\"\n\nIt was an uncharacteristic show of defeat from a man whose usual stance was to tear the world apart until the truth was revealed, or tell a convicing enough lie to keep sales up. The story about the planes had been a curve-ball for the entire company, because nobody had any useful leads, and the real-life mystery was far more compelling than anything they could have made up in a brainstorming session. But the print version had stopped flying off the shelves, and the online articles and multi-page galleries of 'the Fallen' just hadn't brought in the revenue. The story wasn't washing its face, especially not considering how much time Matt and the team had put into it.\n\nIt was 2am. \"Well a lot of people have suggested Chinese cyber attacks, and plen-\"\n\n\"Oh don't be fucking daft,\" the editor interjected. \"Of course it's not the Chinese. And stop saying 'cyber', it makes us sound like Nineties teen fiction.\"\n\nThe issue was almost complete. They had until 2.30am to send the final proofs to the printer, via various signing-offs and top-level okays. This meant that the worst possible time for new information to reach them was that golden moment at just gone two that Matt's job was over, that all the pages were in the hands of the deputy editor, ready to be printed and put in front of a million Londoners on their morning commutes and their pre-work coffees.\n\n\"Fucksake,\" muttered the editor, looking at his phone. \"Another one.\"\n\nThe chatter of the news desk remained constant as the editor read out the details he'd been sent, presumably by his ATC contact in Switzerland. The details were good, and strong enough to build a story on. But as the editor's droning voice evaporated in Matt's mind, he realised there'd be a huge decision to make. When do we stop caring? When does the disappearance of hundreds of people every week become part of the thousands who die needlessly every day? The readership of the newspaper grew more weary, more quickly of Darfur then they did of MP's expenses. He can see from the analytics data that scandals at the BBC in the Seventies were of more interest to some foreign plane in a forgotten part of Africa. How long does it take for people to become desensitised to another 'bad thing'?\n\nThe editor came over and looked at Matt's unslept, unshaven face. \"What's the matter with you, Matt,\" the editor pretended to ask. \"You look like shit.\"\n\n\"I've done seventy hours already this week mate. I'm exhausted.\"\n\nThe editor's face warmed briefly. \"I know. I really know. We've been chasing this story into next week and there's been nothing coming of it. Nobody cares anymore, I don't think we should-\"\n\nMatt looked up.\n\n\"I don't think we can do this anymore,\" the editor sighed. \"Let's kick this one in the dick and be done with it, yeah? It's all NIBs from now on. A short mention on page ten. Maybe not even that.\"\n\nBoth men knew what the implications were. Just like all the armies and coastguards of the world, the media's wandering gaze had grown bored with the search for the Fallen. Some scandal at the Vatican was breaking, the price of petrol had risen by 19 pence in six months, and Wimbledon was on. Despite the fact that planes were dropping like flies out of the fucking sky, Britain was more preoccupied with Union Jack bunting and the dulcet tones of female tennis professionals. It was a travesty, thought Matt, but one that would get him home before midnight.\n\nMatt smiled weakly and nodded. Getting up, he watched all the other journalists get the message, swig the remnants of their coffees, and head towards the doors. It didn't matter what was good, he realised. It was what they liked. You don't get a salad at a kebab shop, because when you're drunk you want a doner and chips with a litre of burger sauce.\n\nAnd Britain was fucking drunk alright. Intoxicated on a steady stream of scandal, gossip, patriotism and self-righteous indignation. The Fallen had nothing to do with this. It was just a sad story of more people going missing, but without any of the vitriol necessary for the public to inform themselves. Nobody could be found to blame. And because of that, nobody cared." ]	2
	[WP] Your coworker has incredible flushy white hair and always insists on having a green salad for lunch. One day, you notice he's actually a sheep.	[ "\"Sven!\" I yelled as I battered more butter. \n\n\"What the f%$k do you want you f%$cking imbecile? I sware to Pan* you're starting to get on my nerves, or should I say horns... \" replied Sven, with an oh-so timid tone, as if to say:\"hey bro! I'm a goat!\" I ignored the obvious goat-y thought process my human friend Sven was going through whilst battering more butter for him. \n\n\"I would like to stop battering butter now,\" said I, \"You batter some butter for once!\" \n\n\"I can't, I'm a goa- !\" replied Sven, although his speech was cut off at the last word.\n\n\"Goal? You're a goal? A ghoul? You're a ghost.\" I frantically searched for a word to replace his.\n\n\"Yes, a ghoul.. that's what I said.\" Sven replied timidly as he started battering the butter. \n\n\"Uh... Okay... Hey, I know you're a goat\" I blurted out, way out of the line of my usual conversation. \n\n\"No, I'm actually a sheep, and you're a robot that doesn't know the word sheep yet,\" said Sven. \"This is actually a human testing facility\" (I'm breaking the fourth wall by telling you, the reader, that this is another dimension, in which sheep tested human thinking skills by doing only one test: calling themselves goats, and then revealing what sheep are after the fact, whilst telling the subject human that they were, in fact, a robot. It was all very nonsensical, but then again, sheep are pretty nonsensical anyways; they just got a leg up on evolution this time by developing teeth and wings at an early evolutionary age.)\n\n\nPan - An ancient goat God", "Today was like any other Monday at the office. I came in twenty minutes late with a mild hangover, sat at my desk, and felt like spending more time on reddit than actually working.\n\nMatthew, at the desk next to mine was (as usual) working diligently, wearing his headphones and listening to his weird Scottish music.\n\nI set my coffee mug down with a thud to let him know I had walked into our shared office.\n\"Have a good weekend Matt?\"\n\n\"Naaah\", he replied with an odd sort of coarseness to his voice. \n\nNever liked to talk much that guy. All I really know about him is that he has curly white hair and that he's a vegan. He never talked much and if you asked him a question he would almost always respond with only one word. Hell, you were lucky if it was more than one syllable.\n\nI sat at my desk and rummaged through the drawer for my Tylenol 3's. I thought to myself, \"I hate fuckin' Mondays\", and took a handful.\n\nThe one good thing about Monday is the boss always comes in later than me. So I decided to lay my head on my desk for a little bit while I wait for my headache to go away.\n\nFifteen minutes later I awake to a smell that can only be one thing... fresh shit. I pick my head up off my desk and turn in my chair to see Matthew, naked, his body covered in curly white hair, shitting all over the floor while eating the memo that had been on my desk. This is the moment I realize that not only is he a sheep, but that sheep is also a better employee than me.\n\nEdit: Formatting\n\nEdit2: Sorry its so short, I'm supposed to be working...", "\"And in short, that is why jet fuel simply cannot melt steel beams\" I said, with a sigh of resignation at the ignorance of Dave, my co-worker.\n\n\"You sure about that mate? I just don't think the government would lie about something like that\" he replied, muffled through a mouthful of the salad he insisted on having for lunch every day, despite my repeated warnings about the dangers of GMO's.\n\n\"What is wrong with you? Are you some kind of sheeperson?\" I exclaimed, perhaps too forcefully. I expected a snort of derision, or even outright anger at this, but I didn't expect what really happened. Dave jumped with a start, a look of nervousness crossing his face.\n\n\"What are you t-talking about R-Rick?\" stuttered Dave, running his hand through his fluffy white hair as he talked.\n\n\"You've known me for years. How could I be a sheep?\" At first I thought the vaccinations must have addled his brain, but something more seemed to be at work here. Now that I focused a bit, I could see that the bumps on his head that he assured everyone were football injuries looked an awful lot like horns. And his height! I always though the fact he was half a metre tall was a result of chemtrails, but now I could see that that couldn't be the case. The hair all over his body, that he claimed to be from repeated steroid use, just couldn't have grown that thick on a human, even on a 'roided up douchebag. There was only one possible conclusion. He was a sheep! I opened my mouth, intending to accuse him of this, when I felt a crack* on the side of my head. Falling to the ground, I looked up to see the sheep, a baton in his hand. As I began drifting out of consciousness, I heard him say,\n\n\"You know too much Rick. We'll be taking care of that now.\"\n ", "\"Harry,\" Linda asked, her tone completely serious, \"Don't you think George has very flushy hair?\"\n\n\"...Flushy? He has white hair.\" Harry punctuated his reply with a matter-of-fact arm-fold. \"It's not reddish at all.\"\n\n\"What?\" Linda rolled her eyes. \"No, not some Oxford Dictionary definition of flushy. I mean flushy, like, you know, fluffy and plushy. So, flushy.\"\n\n\"That doesn't make any sense. At all.\"\n\nLinda ignored her coworker's objections and stared openly at George, who was eating his usual arugula salad. Harry, hating gossip in the same way that Linda loved it, turned back to his computer, hopeful that she was done bothering him with her boredom.\n\n\"You know, I think I've got it.\"\n\n\"Got what?\"\n\n\"George is a sheep,\" Linda declared, supremely satisfied with herself.\n\n\"Oh, knock it off, Linda.\" It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes, and he did, in as exaggerated a manner as he could manage. \"He's not that timid.\"\n\n\"No, not sheep-ish. I mean, George is actually a sheep.\"\n\n\"Are you off your rocker?\" Harry asked bluntly. She had gone too far off the deep end.\n\n\"No, seriously! He's definitely a sheep! He eats nothing but greens. He has flushy, woolly hair all over. He even makes sheep noises!\"\n\nHarry was fed up with her nonsense. \"Hey, George!\" he called, \"Are you a sheep?\"\n\n\"Naaaaaah,\" answered George.\n\nHarry turned to Linda with a smug smile. \"See? Not sheep.\"\n\nHarry and Linda left work that day both completely certain the other was an immense troll. George, for his part, vomited a bit of arugula near Linda's desk in protest of her obvious racism." ]	4
	[WP] A couple's divorce told from the perspective of their Roomba.	[ "The warm summer sun stretched through the wispy curtains to light upon my face as I sat sleeping. Nestled firmly in my dock, I dreamt of the area below this floor and the seldom mentioned land above. As the sun began to grow warmer than I was comfortable with, a loud alarm sounded in my head. It was time again. The masters had strict orders to clean the upstairs area every day at noon. With a quiet hum, I set out to complete my task as instructed. I zipped across the floor, following the wall and turning at the corner just before the nightstand and going straight again. I brushed against something unfamiliar, a foreign object that would surely be in my path on the next pass. Again, I turned and went straight only to find that something did indeed sit in my way and no one seemed to be around to move it. It was weighty and had some give, though it was larger than myself. At best, I could have moved it an inch or two but no further. Instead, I pivoted on the spot and worked around its elliptical space.\n\nReturning to my course, I found myself further bedeviled by another object. It was less weighty, more prone to give, but it threatened to clog my mouth if I let it. Instead, I backed off and found another route around the strangely shaped thing. I continued my work unabated, following the frame of the bed. I worked closely to remove as much dirt, dust, and shed skin as I could. The masters often complained of a malfunction known simply as the “allergies”. I was not certain how one could receive this error, but I hoped to never discover it for myself. Following my linear pattern, I managed to cross over to the other side of the bed only to find similar hindrances tossed carelessly in my path. It seemed as though these articles had been shed hastily, as they were strewn in a formation that made little sense in my mind.\n\nIn the entryway, the only place that I could exit the room, there were a pair of stumbling blocks set firmly in my path. Try as I might to bump them away, they simply gripped the floor and held fast. Over my quickening heartbeat and rapid steps, I could distinguish a sound from the stairwell. Someone or something was climbing up, I hoped that they would help me out of this predicament. The trembling from their foot falls grew faster, heavier as they reached my direction at the entrance to the bedroom. I thought that they needn't hurry on my account, though swift relief would be much appreciated. To my surprise, they passed over me. Landing firmly on the opposite side. More footfalls, two quick and two slow, seemingly reluctant. Were there three people here? I knew only two. Over the gentle noises of my operations, I heard a discordant noise. It was loud, harsh, and upsetting. The voices overlapped and drowned out my being. It was as if I didn't exist in the midst of this, my plight was nothing in comparison to what was occurring at my back.\n\nOne person ran away, another collapsed, and one stood still. I gave up and returned to my base, knowing that there was nothing to be done about today. Tomorrow was another day. I woke at the usual time, prepared to clean the floor properly this time, guest or no. I found my path covered in obstacles, large, medium, and small. They were mostly square. There were few footsteps, mostly from downstairs, as I struggled to fit between these tall blocks. They offered no leeway and no one thought to offer relief. I did as much as I could and returned home, disappointed. The next day I found less boxes in my way, more footsteps. They worked around me and even removed some of the impediments from my path. For this I was grateful and returned home much happier. That following day, I found almost nothing in my path and things weren't where I remembered them being. It was strange. It even seemed as though some things had simply disappeared altogether. I focused as little on this oddity as I could and instead turned my attentions towards cleaning up the mess left behind.\n\nI woke to find that it was much later than usual, no sun shone through the windows and nothing was where it should have been. The floor felt different beneath me, the rooms were smaller, and only one of my masters was there to greet me. I felt lost in this new place. It was as though I had simply been picked up and moved away. I wasn't given a trial run nor had they cleared a space for me. The boxes were back. A myriad of small objects littered upon the floor. A reluctantly withdrawn set of feet. I didn't know this place, and I didn't care for it. I missed my home and the life that I knew.\n\n-231", " I had heard the horror stories. The new craze of splitting all your possessions in half during a messy divorce. I shuddered off the though it wasn't true was it. Was it. The door slid open and I quickly rushed back to work cleaning the floors. It was a pretty dry job cleaning floors all day but I got my charger each night and a place to stay, it was a hard but an honest living. Screaming begun at the usual time just at the start of night and the slamming of car doors rung the end of it. It wasn't my issue though let humans be humans. I heard the garage crank open and I headed down the hall to investigate. He was inside with a chainsaw odd I though its night time outside why would he need it. I watched as he revved it up and he begun to walk towards his couch. NOO I beeped Harold a great friend of mine. He had been one of my best since I bumped into him 6 months ago, I turned around I couldn't watch this monstrosity happen. I heard the screaming and tearing as it ripped though poor Harold's flesh. I began to think though, my nightmare was real I had to hide but were. I rushed under the bed praying to the circuit gods he wouldn't find me. It was hours of sawing and screaming around the house and I sat their scared dustless. It stopped at long last and i breathed a sigh of relief he had basically sawed every thing in the whole house in half even the bed I was hiding under, but foot steps came towards me, I held my breath and the bed was lifted up. It was her. \"your mine\" she screamed. I was lifted from my hiding spot and begun to be carried down the stairs. Their he stood, chainsaw in hands. \"My lawyers going to rip you to shreds\" she cried \"but first you might as well finish the job\" and she lay me down. NOOOOOO i cried as the saw touched my metal skin I was to new to die.\n\nSorry first time ever posting/writing on writing prompt. I'm pretty sure this isn't exactly what you wanted but it made not to bad of a story i think. perhaps.", "Hey, I never got a chance to say sorry for ruining your rug. I should have gotten out of the way...it's just...you seemed so upset. I felt like I had to help, even though I just made it worse.\n\nI guess it's ok though. You have a new rug now. And a new place. I like the new place. It's...cozier? It's definitely less to clean, which is nice.\n\nHey, we should have a party here soon to make it official, seeing as how you're all settled in now.\n\nRemember that New Year's Eve party we had a couple years ago? Man...that was a good party. Sarah got so drunk! Remember how she kept popping those poppers all over the place? Glitter was everywhere! It was weeks before I stopped finding it in the carpet everytime I vacuumed. Good times.\n\nHow is Sarah, anyway? Did you two smooth things out?\n\nI guess she's busy with her new job, I've hardly seen her since you moved. Is she liking it?\n\nI miss having her around during the day. It was nice having someone to interact with. My days are so lonely now.\n\nOh hey, that reminds me. I have her ring. That night with the rug...you guys were arguing about something. It fell down in front of me while I was under the couch. I guess it slipped off her finger or something? I know she had been losing weight... Anyway, I meant to say something to her, but then things got loud and she dropped the wine and...well...you remember.\n\nWhen you see her, will you give it to her? And tell her I said hi?", ">Roomba\n\nWelcome to Roomba 3.0, the vacuum of the future! Debug console\n\n>Reports\n\nReports ready\n\n>Help\n\nPrint help?\n\n>N\n\nReports ready\n\n>Vacuumed material analysis log\n\nNo such report.\n\nReports ready\n\n>Vacuumed_material_analysis_log\n\nVacuumed_material_analysis_log report ready. Print?\n\n>Y\n\nJune 5: Normal volume of dirt\n\nJune 6: Normal volume of dirt\n\nJune 7: Low volume of dirt\n\nJune 8: Normal volume of dirt, abnormal amount of glitter\n\nJune 9: Normal volume of dirt\n\nJune 10: Normal volume of dirt, abnormal amount of glitter\n\nJune 11: Normal volume of dirt, abnormal amount of glitter, 1 condom wrapper\n\nJune 12: High volume of dirt\n\nJune 13: High volume of dirty, abnormal amount of glitter, 1 condom wrapper\n\nJune 14: Low volume of dirt\n\nJune 15: Low volume of dirt\n\nJune 16: Unable to complete cleaning due to interruption\n\nJune 17: High volume of dirt\n\nJune 18: High volume of dirt, 1 pregnancy test box top\n\nJune 19: Unable to complete cleaning due to interruption\n\nJune 20: High volume of dirty, wedding ring\n\nJune 21: Unable to complete cleaning due to obstruction\n\nJune 22: Unable to complete cleaning due to obstruction\n\nJune 23: Low volume of dirt\n\nJune 24: Low volume of dirt\n\nJune 25: Low volume of dirt\n\nEnd of log. Save?\n\n>Y\n\nFile name?\n\n>Divorce_proceedings_infidelity_Exhibit_C" ]	4
	[WP] A year ago, to the day, Tim gave the million dollar lottery prize he had won to charity, in order to pursue his dream of being a self-made man. Write about his day.	[ " Tim, was once the most loved man. It didn't feel that long ago since he was a hot topic across all social networks. The man that gave all he had to charity.\n\n Tim, the man who turned down a million because he didn't earn it himself, resonated across all nations and cultures. He grew a follower base who watched as he coined phrases like, \"It's just not me\", \"Earning it makes it worth\" and re-tweeted him, trying to preserve his sentiment. His face could be seen on bumper stickers and his name sprayed across walls.\n\n This all lasted about a month and it turned against him swiftly. The memories cause Tim to shift in his overly comfortable, luxury car. It was a dark day when he was asked what charity he donated too. Everybody was surprised this wasn't asked earlier.\n\n Nobody prepared themselves for the truth, that Tim had donated to a charity, he created for himself.", "Tim sat on the sidewalk wrapped in his orange sleeping bag. The tiny rocks on the ground shuffled and crunched under the heels of his torn shoes, and his mutilated jeans were still wrapped around his legs. It was impossible for him not to think of that day when he gave away his only chance. At the time it had seemed like such a noble thing, he'd felt like a hero. But the words: \"I won't take the money!\" still reverberated around in Tim's head like a curse. ", "With that scratch card Tim could have been set for life, but he wasn't brought up that way. His mother spent a lifetime picking up unrecognised treasures, while his father tirelessly found buyers to make fruits of his wife's labour. Nothing ever came easy. And that had been the issue with the lucky ticket: his parents had shown him that you should work for your winnings, and anything else seemed wrong. \n \nInstead, he'd donated it to a charity who worked to dig wells in African villages, and provided basic plumbing to most of these. They saved the lives of many children. To Tim it was an easy decision to make; children would live to experience life because of him. And anyway, he had a little idea bubbling away in the back of his mind; something to fall back on. But regardless of this, it'd be a cold heart that placed its own comfort before these desperate children - let alone given the situation that Tim found himself in. \n \nImmediately after the donation, Tim had become a hero, a media darling. 'Here is the ultimate philanthropist,' the papers had bellowed; 'A matchless humanitarian'; 'A selfless saint.' It had all been rather flattering. With all the positive publicity, Tim had been offered a permanent post working with the charity in the African savannah. This was precisely what he'd been hoping for. He would be travelling between villages, and aiding in the implementation and construction of new wells, plumbing, and sanitation. \n \nOf course he had accepted. It had provided the perfect opportunity to bring his little idea to fruition. He'd always loved hunting, and here he was, being flown as a hero, in to the heart of the greatest game territory on earth. Tim had packed his full arsenal of hunting gear, and once the initial media storm had settled, he'd been left quite alone. It's amazing how easy life can be made by GPS tracking and an infrared scope. And he had of course had plenty of help. He was invited to all the humanitarian and conservationist dinners. He was part of the 'good guy collective'. All he'd needed to do was make sympathetic conversation with some doughy eyed lady called 'Felicity' or the like, ask how the rhinos were doing, and they'd positively spew out useful information. Where they'd been seen, what kind of rhino, how many there were, who else had been poaching them, what types of preventative measures were in place. It really was quite simple. \n \nAnd tonight, one year on, he's in eastern Niger on the unwitting advice of some dreadlocked man in a hemp shirt. With a crooked smile, and a custom fitting pair of fifteen-hundred dollar alligator skin boots, Tim leans over the bonnet of his Jeep. A hundred metres away there stands a bull elephant. It has an albino appearance through the scope. Tim's finger tightens on the trigger, and a polished bullet, dizzied by the rifle's spiral, is born from the gun and hurtles into the velvet night. An instant later, and a small smoky puff jumps from the elephant's skull. It slumps immediately... The miracle of armour piercing rounds. \n\nTim places the rifle back into its case, and slides it beneath the passenger seat. From the seat cushion, he picks up a bonesaw, and turns back towards the giant creature. He has thirty kilogrammes of ivory before him - it's going to be profitable night. His phone vibrates, and he raises it to his ear: \n\"Hello? Yeah, its Tim... No, not busy... Right... In aid of the lions? Endangered now aren't they?... Yes, yes of course... And how much are they selling them for nowadays?... That much? My goodness... Oh yes, awful I know... Yes, I would be honoured... No that will be fine... Thank you... Great, I will see you tomorrow then... Yeah. Bye.\" An invitation to a charity dinner. 'Save the lions'. He will have to work quickly. After all, he'll need his sleep; these dinners are not to be missed. It pays to keep up appearances. " ]	3
	[WP] God decides to destroy the world, but humans are now advanced enough to fight back	[ "God has become displeased with the nature man. Human’s blatant disregard for his teachings and wisdom has angered him. Prophets from around the world, from different cultures, from different religions are speaking with God and receiving the same message: Our impudence can no longer be tolerated, we must all repent or be destroyed.\nHowever, even with this overwhelming consensus by prophets around the world of impending doom, words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. Too difficult it is to convert all the people of the world to piety. Humans require more than just a strong message, but legislation requires politics, and the devil controls that. \nThe prophets state that we have the technology and infrastructure in place to force people into unwilling piety. But there is always another way. Why obey God when we can fight back? We should use the power God gave humans, the power of thought, to militarize the technology and destroy our creator. \nUnfortunately for the people of Earth, this disagreement lead to the prevention or either option. The devil’s firm grasp on politics was too much for the prophets to overcome, no amount of holy words or technology could overcome the powerful controlling entities of the world. \nGod simply laughed at the nature and ignorance of humans. For in God’s infinite wisdom, he knew that humans were foolish to believe that their advancements in technology could challenge the creator of the universe. Human’s goal of retaliation toward God was simply a fantasy and a distraction. God understood that their only true option for saving their planet from destruction was listening to the warnings of his prophets. Even in God’s infinite wisdom he could not understand how many of the humans could continue to denounce his wishes despite nearly all of his prophets preaching the same message. \nGod noticed that skeptics stated that the warnings were too cryptic and thus could not be trusted at all. The words were indeed cryptic, God mused, but the message was clear, respect the wishes of God and restore balance, or die. \nThe Almighty had made his decision, the humans would be destroyed; but they would be forced to suffer through their destruction slowly. God wanted the humans to realize the error of their ways and that their demise was by his hand.\nGod wanted to watch the world burn, slowly and painfully. With a wave of his hand and a snap of his fingers he increased the strength of the sun. It would become hotter and hotter over the years until humanity was finally burned to a crisp. \nGod leaned back in his holiest of holy thrones and mused that his greatest sadness would be not knowing the ending of Game of Thrones. In his infinite wisdom he knew that Martin would die of heart disease in a year. Why hadn’t he intervened and cured him? God turned his mind away from earth and started pondering about creating life in a different corner of the universe. God thought to himself, this time I won’t get distracted by playing FNAF and miss that asteroid that destroyed the dinosaurs. Those things were fucking awesome.\n\nNote: First time posting here so be nice. I don’t consider myself a good writer but I am dedicated to procrastinating. \n", "The foolishness of man was to set of a Tsar sized bomb in the first heaven, but he did not know what God knew. In a few moments in which for the denizens of the universe felt like aeons, there was a loud voice for all to hear bellowing like the thunder in clouds and the roar of a thousand harleys. \"Think you can fuck with me?\" Said the omnipotent speech, and with a flash of light BOOM, the day of judgement has arrived and time has ended, the end.", "He stared up at the great light in the sky, filled with both fear and bewilderment. It was no the sun, it wasn't even day. The light consumed the entire sky from horizon to horizon. It was neither cold, nor hot. The atmosphere felt no different, the gravity just as always, while physics would dictate anything this large, generating this much light would surely play upon its physical surroundings.\n\nWhat is it? He wondered in his head.\n\nAnd it answered, in his head.\n\nNot in words, but in understanding. \n\nThis great energy was the creator of all, it is God. \n\nWhy was it here?\n\nIt had come to undo earth, because of the atrocities created by man. \n\nWhat atrocities?\n\nGenocide, murder, slavery, greed, great masses of people giving into vices. It had been determined. Life was created with the ultimate goal of achieving perfection. The progress of the human race was determined, the end goal was peace and prosperity, happiness to all.\n\nHe stopped and thought about it. Reflected on history.\n\nTruly? He thought. Are things so much worse now? When in history have we ever been so close to perfect as we are today? There was a time when men fought because of the color of another man's skin. There was a time when men bled because of the version of God which they believed. There was a time when owning another human as property was considered to be a legal right.\n\nToday we may not be perfect. But today, to act in violence over religion or race is a crime. Today, we have countries where no man may own the life of another man. We have countries that have decreed that love does not know gender. Today we as a society have programs that allow the sick to live where once they might have perished.\n\nHow can you say that we have fallen into chaos when our past is wrought with more chaos than the world we now live in? \n\nHow can you say the future is hopeless when we continue to strive towards perfection every day?\n\nHe clenched his fists and looked up into the sky with tears streaming down his face, but there was nothing, only the dark night sky above him. \n\nAnd a new understanding. \n\nHe was right.", "“Are we absolutely sure they will land here?”\n\n“Yes general, the information the defectors gave us all points here .”\n\n“Does it correspond with the other intelligence?”\n\nThe colonel held up the reports for the general to read. He did not care to read it, all the information in the world did not mean anything, not really, not against this adversary.\n\n“Tell HQ to ready the weapon in case our lines get overrun,” the general said whispering, so no one else could hear.\n\nThe colonel watched his commander in disbelief, for about three months now he had been telling his men they could win this war, now he seemed uncertain. He saluted his general and left to find a radioman, to relay the order. While the tent flaps clapped in the wind the army leader closed his notebook, the time for studying maps and planning defenses had come and gone. He knew his men were as prepared as they were ever going to be. In a matter of hours, the human race could be either extinct or free to govern themselves. \n\nIn the past months many probing attacks had taken place, all over the world, man against angel. Many had died but the invaders hadn't been able to setup a bridgehead. During the fourth night of fighting when his own positions in Europe were almost overrun, five of the enemies fighters shot down from the sky. They started killing their brothers without a second thought. The sound of clashing swords sounded throughout the night and the next morning. Afterwards their leader approached him.\n\n“We have come to join your war,” they told him, “we believe the human race has a greater part to play in this universe. We will help you fight our lord even if it means his demise.”\n\nThey told him many things about the one we call god. They called him Eloha, he was one of a great and ancient race of creators. They made and shaped many planets across the galaxy and watched them from afar. The angels, as we call them, were taken from many different planets and given amazing powers by the creators. In turn they would do whatever the creators demanded of them. When the angels came down to help them, they still wore their beautiful armor. The metal was engraved with languages from all planets in the universe, decorated with materials that the human race had never seen before. The armor was fitted exactly to their bodies, muscular and tall as they were, it shone even when there was no light to reflect. The metal stopped conventional bullets with ease, but our new plasma weapons tore through them like they weren't even wearing it. Their longswords held an edge like no material on earth could, they would cut through anything and refused to be broken. The swords were so light that even humans could wield them without trouble. They did not have wings but fly they did, with the small thrusters on their wrists and ankles, they could propel themselves to dizzying speeds, ripping through the enemy ranks like a blazing ball of fire, shining bright as the sun. It so happened that the five were part of an elite force within Eloha's army. Most of the others were not such formidable fighters, which is not to say that they did not make the humans pay a terrible price for every small victory.\n\nLooking over the fields from their positions on top of Tel Megiddo, the humans were anxiously waiting for the arrival of the real attack. The sky had become dark, as night had settled in, when the first sounds of war were heard. A thunderclap in the sky, followed by a blinding white light, woke everybody on top of the tel to the imminence of battle. Plasma weapons were spooled up, artillery batteries broke out their ready rounds and swords were unsheathed, with the scraping sound of metal on metal. \n\nWhen the light had disappeared one angel was standing on the plane, a monstrous looking silver horn in his hands. When he blew all of his air through the horn the sound made everything and everyone that could hear it shake or crumble. The sounds echoed through the valley as a low warning call for whomever might think it to be a good idea to defy the will of Eloha. When the sound had died out he blew the horn for a second blast. As he did this the blinding light reappeared in the sky together with the thunderclap that preceded it. This time however it was not just one, clap and a flash, they followed each other with such a ferocity as if the earth had split open and had started to fall apart, back into the dust that it once was. Soldiers crawled back into their holes, officers trembled with the knowledge that many of their men would die this night and even a general felt a hint of fear. \n\nIt had been like this before every attack, the sound and sight of the armies of heaven arriving on the battlefield was the most terrifying thing the general had ever seen, he could not seem to get used to it. When the onslaught finally stopped, the army that had assembled on the field below them was larger than any of the ones that had come before. It would seem that that army outnumbered theirs significantly but how many angels had assembled down there the general could not tell. They did not wait for anything, thousands of Eloha's angels took to the sky. Plasma rifles looked for targets and artillery batteries started raining hellfire on the enemy. \n\nThe eyes of the comos were now fixed on this one place. The apocalypse of the universe started that day at Tel Megiddo. The human race, small as it may be, set in motion a chain of events there that would echo throughout time and space.", "I silently gazed at the never-ending battlefield, full of ruined and destroyed ancient structures, utterly torched down terrain, and only a broken golden gate in the back indicating this place's identity. My robotic endoskeleton constantly scanned the surroundings, just in case one of the Angels were to try and sneak up on me, while I was having a closer look on the skirmish. And it was a sight to be hold. The winged and armed men, once believed to be completely unstoppable, now swinging their holy blades in fury, frustration and helplessness, trying to overcme the orderly, planned out and devastating strikes from our forces. And in the center of it all, an elderly figure was constantly waving his arms around, trying to do something. But his attempts were fruitless, as we prepared for the bastard's omnipotent capabilities. We were beyond him.\n\nThousands of years ago, men and women feared this man. With the slightest twitch of his finger - with the mildest sickness or loss in harvest, they would fall down on their knees and bend to the supposed savior. We gave him the only thing we had - our free will. And he enjoyed the praise. But as he gluttonously sat in his patriarchical and oppressive throne, we prepared for our comeback. When he discovered what we were capable of, it was too late.\n\nAs I was deep in these thoughts, a young female warrior, who stood in the back as a reserve, approached me and said:\n\n\"Commander, I... I don't understand. This man is all-powerful, and he created us... How could we overpower him?\"\n\nThe last Angel was falling, and vanished into the white fog that surrounded everything her. God was now cornered, defenseless, and powerless. I smiled at the turning of events. Ten years ago,he almost wiped out our entire population - we had to rise from the dark and turn the tide with seemingly nothing. \"It is very simple - unlike God, the man has no bounds. It can start out weak, but it always strives for perfection. It never stays put. Throughout the millions of years if human history, we went from barely intelligent apes to a multiversal civilization, with the powers to warp reality and slay gods.\"\n\n\"But... omnipotence...\"\n\n\"Omnipotence is worthless when you don't use it for progress.\" I stopped for a moment, then exclaimed:\n\n\"And may this be a lesson to everything in our plane of existence! The man never sleeps! The man never stops! The man only progresses, and overcomes the challenges that the Universe throws at him! And by now, nothing, I say nothing, can stop the man in his tracks!\"", "God had made a judgement call, a call that the day of judgement had come.\n\n He sat back in his silken throne for a moment and pondered the implications of his decision. It tore him to think of all of the lost opportunities, lost experiences, lost emotions of his creations. But they had grown too powerful, powerful beyond measure, powerful beyond God. And while others may exist in God's image, he himself was the only image he needed to see, he would not be crossed again.\n\nWith a tearing of his being, his essence, and his value, he betrayed himself, he snapped his fingers - it was over.\n\nNever once did he consider the moral fortitude that his creations had held. \n\nGod was the weaker man.", "One minute, the Earth was there. \n \nThe next minute, it was not. \n \nIt had never been. And so it was.\n \nIn his infinite wisdom, He had understood that in their current state, the Children of Man would have usurped him. So it was that they were to be undone. Indeed, they were to have never been done at all. \n \nAnd so it was that he razed their past and consumed their future. Man had never existed. Neither had the Children of Man. Indeed, the entire Earth was nothing more than a glimmer in His eye. \n \nShe was displeased by it. The Children of Man had been Her fourth favorite children. So She recreated it. And He was displeased. \n \nAnd the Children of Man watched from below. They had always watched. Earth had always been. \n \nAnd so it was.", "After the Maker left the mortal realm behind, waiting for the right time to return triumphantly, man forgot his Maker. He turned to the earth, the thunder and the sun for guidance. He turned to metal and stone for strength, forgetting the prayers and songs given to his ancient ancestors. He turned his back to his Maker, working with a heart of steel, a body of iron and a mind of brass clockwork. He slowly threw aside the ideas of spirituality and humble worship, what he was made to do. Man grew, became more than what he was constructed to do, he forgot sacrifices, he forgot humility and he forgot even the words of God, and without such, man grew proud. And with this pride, came power. With power, came the Deceiver, hoping to turn man to his side to spite the Maker. Yet when the Deceiver came to men, they cast him aside. He offered them all the kingdoms upon the Earth, and they refused. He tried to turn them, yet in the end they cast him down, and unlike the Maker, they gave no mercy. And upon the rocks of Golgotha, the Deceiver was put upon a cross. Next to him, a gentle preacher had been taken as well. While the preacher wanted peace, the Deceiver tried to use this man, as the last vestige of vengeance for his Maker and the weak men, yet it was for naught, for the preacher upon the cross forgave the Deceiver at the end. And together they died.\n\nMankind rose through the years, casting aside spirits and ancestors for the worship of the One Maker, the true creator. Yet their worship was not in weak humility, it was in anger, wrath, sloth, gluttony, envy, lust and pride. They called for the Maker on the battlefield as they tore each other asunder. And the Maker looked in disbelief at his creations, as they created works of art greater than any of his, they made beauty unlike his. They grew, in all scopes. Their numbers were legion, and their curious nature left no boundaries uncrossed, no idea unexplored. And as the 20th century after the death of the Deceiver and the Preacher came to begin, they unleashed their full potential, twice. In two massive wars, wars that left more dead than the time where God himself had destroyed the first cities of sinners, Sodom and Gomorrah, mankind destroyed more than the first War in Heaven had, and left men cynical and angry. They raged against God, against the ideas of creators. Their blasphemies were so apparent that great temples and monuments were built, not to the glory of the Maker, but the power of man. They created their own gods, made their own lives and led the world into relentless ambition, greed and hedonism. While the Maker was angered, mankind was pleased. Upon alters to themselves they laid down their works, they lived longer, loved more, were happier than ever before. They even left their destined home for another object, even if it was their own Moon, the Maker could not believe their hubris. They were meant to farm, breed and worship him, and all his glory.\n\nThe Maker had enough, and he unleashed his divine armies upon the mortal world. The Angels had swords of fire, arrows of piercing light, blessed bows that always struck true. And when they landed in the city of fallen angels, where the ocean meets the sand, they slaughtered the inhabitants, sending mortal men on the run. That, was until birds of metal rained down destruction upon them. Until legion upon legion of men, armed with thunder and fire in their hands, met them. The perfect beings, Cherubim, Seraphs, the Archangels, the Virtues, Powers and other undefined angelic beings of light, were butchered in the streets, swords of flame and chariots of iron were little use against the thunder of guns and tanks of steel. The heavenly host, was shattered. And with their blood spilled upon the Earth, the Maker let lose the hordes of Hell to turn the world to ash.\n\nAnd when mankind were met with demons, imps, incubi and succubi, horned devils and the princes of Hell, they simple kept fighting. Even when the heavenly host reformed to strike with the demons, mankind kept advancing, sluaghtering dragons, angels and demons alike. The Great Dragon and the Beast came forth in London, and were brought down. The Four Horsemen rode to Rome, with the dead of former wars to strike down the holy city. The Swiss Guard and the Italian army conquered Conquest, ended Famine, defeated War and taught the world that even Death itself may die. Every strike that the Maker sent against mankind was defeated, and at last the Maker himself came to fight, and he did to Beijing what had been done to ancient Sodom and old Gomorrah. That was when mankind, found who was behind the constant attacks upon their world.\n\nOf course mankind decided to do the right thing. They did the same to him. He had unleashed his most devastating strike upon the human race, and he had neglected to attempt to comprehend their force, their sheer curiosity and capacity for destruction. In a bunker, somewhere in the Yunnan province of China, a red button was pushed. And a missile was launched. The spear of destiny, the greatest weapon mankind had ever made. Something that could kill the world. A missile carrying a thermonuclear warhead, flying with great precision towards a single target. A weapon, carrying both the collective hopes and fears of mankind. Only used twice, only used because of absolute necessity. Once more, mankind would destroy something with nuclear annihilation. And when the Maker, the self-styled god, saw that tiny hunk of metal and uranium hurdling towards him in the distance, thought little of it. He couldn't be harmed by mortal weaponry, not by any as he was the Maker. Yet when it struck him, it did not crumple into a crushed missile as he had expected. Indeed he felt something that he had never felt before, a odd, unpleasant burning, utter and severe pain. He had never understood pain, never experienced it. He felt weak, for the first time since he had shaped the puny planet to be his, he felt utterly weak. He ran, retreated into heaven, where he would be able to find out where the weapons of mankind had come from. Who had supplied them? As he looked out from the skies, mankind aimed. And fired once more. And this time, not a single missile. But every missile.\n\nA being that could cause such devastation by force of will was unbearable for man, who saw himself as the epitome of creation. So they fired every last one they could, dug out old and decrepit ones from storage, unfroze some forgotten ones from the inner Siberia and Greenland. And sent them into the eye in the sky. Into heaven itself. The Maker, the god that had made man, could not believe his own eyes, as he saw more of those spears coming for him. He tried to run, yet as he had been defeated once by the hill-dwellers with their iron-chariots, so was he defeated by pure nuclear devastation. His body was split, on an atomic level he was turned to dust. His mind, ever immortal, could but scream as he realized his fate, forever drifting in space as conscious dust, with no mouth, no eyes and no way to interact with the outside world. He had wanted servants and worshipers, god-slayers was what he had gained.\n\nAnd on the Earth, mankind were victorious. With the mighty Maker gone, the angels all fell from grace, becoming mortal, even human like. While some escaped capture awkwardly integrating with humans in isolated areas of the world, most were brought to prison, many were executed and even others were deemed inhuman and condemned to experimentation, fit only to further mankind's understanding. Hell was conquered, the local demons nearly driven to extinction before the onslaught of mankind was brought to a close. While the gates to hell remained, and the dead inside were simply put in prison with the demons if their crimes had been severe enough, set free if simply pagans or others sent to hell, the place was industrialized quickly. Mankind saw potential for the nether-realm, and used it and its nearly untapped resources to advance the technology and industry of the human world. Heaven, was no more. Nothing remained, a drone sent into the only open portal revealed but a land of burned nuclear glass, with no remnants of its fabled beauty." ]	8
	[WP] Eminem is in his studio one day recording a new song. Suddenly a flash, then, out of a cloud of smoke walks the Rap Devil. Here to battle the Rap God.	[ "The Rap Devil looks around, eyeing Eminem \"Where is he?!\" He demands.\n\nEminem is confused, takes a startled step back. \"Who? Who are you looking for?\".\n\n\"I have come to battle the Rap God, mortal.\" Scoffed the demon of rhymes.\n\nEminem starts to get a bold, overconfident look on his face and a wide smile... almost a sneer. \"That's me, the Real Slim Shady.\"\n\nThe Lyrical Lucifer looks him up and down, \"No, fool. You are just the sacrifice.\"", "Eminem knew immediately why the Rap Devil had appeared. He cleared his throat and prepared for the rap battle. \n\n\nLucifer, slightly out of practice when it comes to musical competition, extended his hand and started to introduce himself.\n\n\"Hi, I'm here to dethrone the rap god, I'm Lucif...\" but before he could even finish, Eminem slapped his hand away and broke out into rhyme.\n\n\n\nLoony Lucifer, I'm the God, the Dr. Seuss-ifier,\nKing of kings, the one gonna put you in a noose of fire,\nForget blue, you'll be turnin greener than some eggs of Sam,\nCuz I'm the ham, envy the Christmas dinner main dish that I am,\nSo start to cram, its midnight the night before your final exam,\nThe theology of rap professor's me and your late, so SCRAM!\n \n \n\n\nAfter this I'm gonna feel like a Rap God, Rap God\nAll my people from the front to the back nod, back nod\nNow the devil thinks his arms are long enough to slap box, slap box?\nLet me show you maintaining this shit ain't that hard, that hard\n \n \n\n\n\n\nSatan interrupted, \"That's all well and good, but….\"\nSatan cleared his throat,\n \n\n\n\nI'm the devil, sly tongued as I am cunning,\nRevel in these lyrics you're stupid if you are not running,\nI came here to slay the rap god and was looking for competition,\nBut this sacrifice's lyrics are more odd then rap god juxtaposition,\nI'm the devil, here to kill the rap god for talent,\nAnd I'm gonna take your soul even if your effort's valiant,\nAnd ever since I lost my shiny fiddle made of gold,\nI been tryin other avenues and this is where I'm feelin bold,\nSo I popped up in your studio with a cloud of smoke.\nNow it's time to do my duty, yo, Any last jokes?\n \n\n\nWith that, the devil ripped off his head and ate his tasty, tasty soul, thusly absorbing his talent.\n " ]	2
There is so much vanity going on in the world. What happens to people, who mostly rely on their looks, when they get older?	[WP] She used to be beautiful but not very bright, now she's 45 years old...	[ "Yi Li sat on her bed not knowing what to do, she placed her hand protectively over her womb, pregnant at 45, no boyfriend, no education, only a small apartment and a crappy Job as a Denny's waitress, she still had her looks but it seemed like guys willing to support her were harder to come by after she hit the big four oh, she never wanted to be a user guys just always seemed liked they wanted to be nice to her....but now thy didn't, and ironically she felt more alone than ever. The father of her child a 25 year old Janitor she thought was a handsome caring man she met at the market seemed to have skipped town as soon as he heard and it just made the pains in her belly turn to pains in her heart...All she could do was waddle back to her job and say \"may I take your order?\" as the tears slide down her cheeks into her raven black hair. ", "Sally looks long at her aging skin in the mirror, staring into her own blue eyes once so bright but now glazey and dull. She stares at the photo of her husband on the mantle, takes three valium and goes to the mall where she buys socks for her dog and cries herself to sleep on the couch that night when her husband has gone to bed because Rufus won't let her dress him like a person. \n\nShe wakes up at 4am but instead of going to bed she pours a glass of wine and sits back on the couch to watch the sun rise over the ocean across their seaside balcony kept company by a host of beautiful faces encouraging her to buy a thermomix. \n\nShe remembers when she had been young, and vain, and she remembered how so many people in her life had come to tell her later they had always hated her, had always been intimidated by her, jealous of her, people had thought she was too good for them. \n\nBut all she could remember was the only time she felt like she was doing what people wanted her to do. " ]	2
	[WP] You start seeing subtitles to your life.	[ "You recognize that this is the moment you had always fantasized about. The moment when your heart could actually speak for itself. The words seem so natural to you, as you see the echo of your wisdom ringing off the walls, toasting the health and happiness of a union you covet with every moment left to your own devices. So you continue speaking, seeing the vivid imagery... the passion of the nuptials gaining mass with every word you speak... and with the brightest smile in your eyes, you yell \"Salute!\" and applaud the newlywed kiss with modest fervor.\n\nSelling your selflessness for just a high enough premium to recoup the self-respect you pawned for the simple pleasure of seeing a genuine smile in her eyes.", "I tried speaking, but nothing was coming out. This wasn't a dream. It couldn't be. My brother didn't seemed panicked. I wish I could say something to them, anything, but nothing came out. Was it something in the coffee? I took another sip, seemed fine.\n\nWords formed in front of me out of thin air, bold and black. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe I was actually crazy. I read the words. As I read them, i heard them. A voice, my voice, what the FUCK. I didn't say that, but I did.\n\n\"So Brian, whens your game?\" I said as I followed along with the floating writing.\n\"Uhh 12:30. You wanna hit the bar tonight?\"\n\nNew words appeared, \"Yeah sure. I'm low on cash but fuck it\" I mimicked. I took another sip of coffee nervously.\n\nAnother sip. The soft murmur of the coffeehouse did nothing to calm me. I continued making small talk with my brother, saying words that were not my own. What the fuck was happening to me. I can't stand it. Why can't I say anything real, why can't I speak my own mind.\n\nIt was like any other day. What the hell is happening. We had been to this exact place before numerous times. What triggered this in me? It was a month like any other month. I was healthy, as far as I knew. I was working my same job as I had been for the past 6 years. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was different. But everything was wrong. My forced conversation was boring, it was fake, it meant nothing, and I couldn't stop it. Sentences continued to form in front of my eyes, and I droned them on and on.\n\n\"Hey brother\", Brian whispered as he leaned in close. I leaned in.\n\n\"That girl back there's been looking at you.\" I casually stretched and twisted my body. She was blonde, skinny, shy looking. Beautiful.\n\n\"Go talk to her.\"\n\n\"Nah Brian, that's weird...\"\n\n\"Dude, go for it.\"\n\n\"Alright, whatever. Fuck you, you owe me a drink.\" For once something I actually would have chosen to say.\n\nI turned and started shuffling towards her. \"Hey \" . Wait. That wasn't scripted, I wasn't forced to say that. I chose to say that.\n\nAnd now I was completely free to say anything I wanted, and I was left without words, but it was perfect. She gave me a smile and I felt an ease I hadn't felt since I was a child. This wasn't a dream.\n", "I've always been a visual person—a visual reader maybe, is that a thing? If I've seen a word before, I can always spell it because I just see it again in my head. Hell, I've spelled words I've never seen before because I saw them in my head anyway.\n\nSo when I started seeing the words in my head whenever I talked it was a little weird, but okay, just a natural evolution or whatever I guess. Then I made another stab at learning a second language on a whim, and the subtitles thing... sorta helped. My recall for foreign words shot way up, my comprehension got better, but my pronunciation got maybe even a little worse. Seems like spelling never matches pronunciation no matter what the language is.\n\nBut it was new, and it was cool, so I kept studying, a lot longer than I'd ever kept up before. I started hanging around native speakers whenever I could. And then the really cool thing happened. I started seeing the words other people spoke.\n\nAfter that there was no stopping me. When you've got the script in your head all you need from your memory is meaning, and meaning's a hell of a lot easier to pick up from phrases at a time than single words. I went from broken \"Hello nice day\" to just a little choppy \"Hey man did you catch the game last night\" to hour-long debates about the high and low points of Star Wars. I went from Spanish to German to French to Thai. And then somewhere in the middle of decoding my way through the Kama Sutra in original Sanskrit just to see if it really lived up to the hype I looked up and realized I couldn't even remember what my major was supposed to be anymore.\n\nIT? What the hell self, I don't even like computers. Oh, right, I'd been thinking about going for Library Sciences but that's only a master's. Screw Library Sciences now though, why go through all that when I could just work for libraries translating their old texts. If I don't decide to be an interpreter. Maybe focus on books while I figure out which language I like best and see if there's any well-paid openings for interpreters in it?\n\nMaybe focus on books anyway, I don't know if I want to go to any risks being a governmental type interpreter, it'd be more fun just to focus on sounding native as much as possible. I'm sure I've heard about a trick for that somewhere.\n\nSo I changed majors, sailed through every language class I could find to sign up for while my friends new and old kidded me about how I was the best speaker with the worst pronunciation they'd ever met and did that make me some kind of savant.\n\nAnd then I found the class for sign language.\n\nIt would be ridiculous. Sign language wasn't the same as spoken, it didn't use words words, just... words with hands. My talent wouldn't work on that.\n\nRight?\n\nI was right. Sort of. Mostly I was wrong. Once I got past my own stupid mental hangup of \"words aren't words\" and started learning the signs, of course they were just words spoken a different way. Vocabulary wasn't new, which was nice, syntax was different of course but that wasn't new to me anymore either. And no pronunciation at all! I was sure I was doing fine until the really weird thing happened.\n\nUp to that point, whenever I read or spoke or listened to English, I saw English words in my head. Spanish language, Spanish spellings. Russian words, that weird Cyrillic alphabet. And signs... pretty quickly morphed from English to hands.\n\nAnd then not even just static images of hands, like in textbooks, but more like the ghost or memory or something of actually shaping my hands into those signs. Freaked me out just a bit at first. Then it just got difficult to remember not to actually go ahead and make the signs every time I happened to think of some.\n\nI guess it turns out I'm pretty kinetic as well as visual.\n\nIt's coming in handy since I signed up as a tutor. I wonder what the qualifications are for teaching classes?\n" ]	3
edit: Wow, my first front page prompt!	[WP] "I may be evil, but I'm not a dick."	[ "James pushed aside the leafy branches and proudly walked over towards Yorin. \"You barely put up a fight!\" yelled a hollowed voice that echoed through the knight's red and yellow clad-armour. He then began to walk towards his very distraught and mangled foe, who could do nothing but fight for his breath. \n\n\"Now!\" The knight drew his dagger and bent over to imbibe the absolute defeat that was painted on his Yorin's face. Any last words before I gut you like a pig!?\"\n\nA faint voice crawled out of the dying man's throat \"I... I want you to...\" Yorin let out a deathly cough as spittle began to run down his face. He then attempted to lean up against a nearby tree trunk. James unstrapped his helmet to reveal a slight smirk that had stretched over his pale and somewhat emotionless face.\n\nHe then sheathed his dagger and propped Yorin against the Willow. \"Now... Your final words?\" James said in a rather soft tone. Yorin found the task of speaking to be a little more bearable now.\n\n\"I've always thought that the Richards household were weak... But it seems that I've been proven otherwise...\" There was then a slight pause that was then broken with a maniacal laugh from James. \"I belong to no household, my friend...\"\n\n\"But you're wearing the armour of House Richards!\" exclaimed Yorin. \"I took it from one of their bannermen.\" James explained as he slowly unsheathed his dagger and rested it again Yorin's exposed stomach. \"I may be evil, but I'm not a dick.\"", "\"Hey do I know you from somewhere?\"\n\n\"I don't think so.\"\n\n\"I'm almost sure I know you from somewhere. Do you hunt and kill people for living?\"\n\n\"Pfft, I wish. It's really just a hobby.\"\n\n\"That's where I know you from, you're Bill's kid aren't you?\"\n\n\"No, my Dad's name is Louis.\"\n\n\"You have the same twirly mustache as his kid.\"\n\n\"Just cause we have similar facial hair and interests doesn't make us the same guy.\"\n\n\"What was his name, let me think a second.\"\n\n\"How should I know I'm not him!\"\n\n\"It was like Randy, Richy or like Rondy.\"\n\n\"You... think I'm Bill's son Rondy.\"\n\n\"No, wait, it was... Ricky or Rick.\"\n\n\"I'm going to leave now.\n\n\"Wait, wait, wait, you just go by Richard right. Susan calls you evil Richard cause you hunt people and stuff.\"\n\n\"Look I'm going to say this for the last time. I don't care you think I am. Sure, I may be evil, but I'm not a Dick or a Richard or a Ricky or a Richy or a Rondy for christsake!\"\n\n\"Evil Dick that's what it was!\"\n\n\"It's not. I'm not. Leave me alone.\"\n\n", "\"Off to work, honey, have a good one,\" I kiss my beautiful wife goodbye, my last bit of joy for the day. \n\n\nOnly twenty seven minutes of traffic before my arrival back stage. \n\n\nI am very skilled at what I do, but that is not why I am paid my extravagant salary. I make 7 figures because of my winning personality. \n\n\nOnly one hour before the performance. \n\n\nI change into my costume, made of all black and looking almost militant, it is fitted to my strong physique to let my audience know my characters power. \n\n\nOnly thirty minutes until the performance. \n\n\nI practice my lines, fidget with my props, and meditate on my future actions. This is going to be a performance of a life time. \n\n\nOnly three minutes until the performance. \n\n\nI stare at the door to my stage, steel and warm. The director insists the air conditioning be turned off, to match the heat and intensity of my performance. \n\n\nShowtime.\n\n\nI open the door, to no applause. I step on stage to reveal my audience of one, the only member suspended by chains over a pool of his own bodily fluids, feet traipsing barely off the ground. I close the door behind me. This will be a private viewing. \n\n\"Hello, President al-Assad. You stand accused of crimes against humanity. There is evidence that you utilized chemical and biological weapons to torture and kill the people you were in charge of governing. The world thinks you are dead by air strike. This is not court. There is no jury. You will die in here, but not before you tell me where your illegal weapons are stored.\"\n\n\nA gangly Arabic man with a thin beard squeaks out a weak but audible phrase, pushed through dehydrated lips. \"I was supposed to be a dentist... I don't know where the weapons are, just where your wife sleeps.. ha ha.. Hahaha!\" [Cough cough] \"You dirty infidels cannot fathom the powers that I have at my disposal. I have sleepers and suicide agents in every major US city. You cannot break me, you cannot touch me.\"\n\nIt was going to be the beginning of a very long day, I think. Sometimes you need to fight fire with fire, or in this case evil with evil. \nN\nAnd so begins the first act.\n\n_________________\n\nHey all, still new to contributing stories. Would love feed back :)", "“So you see, Jazzman, your cloying ballads cannot instill love in my heart, for I have no heart!” \n \nBareth tore open his white dress shirt, displaying a mass of wires and circuitry visible through a sheer panel on his chest. \n \nJazzman tapped his feet in time and sang, \n \nI thought Iron Man \nheld that can. \nHe’s gonna be pretty pissed \nwhen the tape gets ran. \n \nWith a roll of his eyes, Bareth explained, “It’s not the same tech, so there’s no copyright infringement. My team of lawyers has already cleared it - and besides, Iron Man is copying me in the first place.” His tone turned wistful. “When I was but a lad of fifteen, my heart was that of a ninety-year-old man. I rose to the challenge, though, creating the most powerful bionic heart ever. One that is, I might add, completely invulnerable to your silly jingles and cacophonous instruments.” \n \nAs Bareth paced and monologued, Jazzman twisted the rope binding his arms to the steel chair. It frayed slightly, but his powerful saxophone remained just out of reach on the table beside him. He flung his body toward it, scooting the chair slightly closer. The rope caught on the table’s sharp edge and he began to wriggle his way toward freedom. \n \n“You have been nothing but a thorn in my side - or a foul note in my rhythm, if you will. Once the rest of your ridiculous band appears to ‘save you,’ I will destroy all of you in a fantastic grand finale.” \n \nBareth stopped, turning to face Jazzman just as the rope snapped. Jazzman lunged for his sax but fumbled, knocking it across the table separating him from Bareth. Time seemed to slow. Jazzman watched in horror as his precious instrument skittered and slid, tumbling through the air toward a three-story drop to the the bottom of the abandoned warehouse. \n \nManicured fingers plucked the horn from midair, and Bareth gently returned it to the table. \n \nJazzman caught his breath before gushing, \n \nOh, thank ya man, \nBut I don’t understand. \nIf I lost my sax \nthen I’d be outta the band. \n \nBareth fluttered his fingers in dismissal. “Come now, Jazzman. That’s an heirloom Yanigasawa black brass alto saxophone with custom shell-lined keys and a crystal mouthpiece. That instrument is a gem. Of course I had to catch it. I may be evil, but I’m not a dick.” \n \nHis fingers rested lovingly along the keys as Jazzman’s mouth sagged open. For once, the singer had nothing to say. \n \n", "As Phil took his last breath, his family looked down at him from around his hospital bed. Though he hadwronged them, they still felt some sort of sadness. All except his wife, of course. She was just angry and filled with resentment, as joining them in his room, Phil's mistress weeped excessively. \n\nThe darkness closed in, and Phil slipped on to the next world. Fire engulfed his entire field of view. He noticed a shadow by his side, leading him down a road of brimstone to a gate. At the gate, was a large man. He was well-dressed and sharp, almost business-like.\n\nPhil and his guide approached the gate. The man's thundery voice boomed:\n\n\"Phillip Jameson Collins, on the charge of adultery and being an overall despicable human, you have been sentenced to eternal damnation in the pits of hell. I'll be your orientation guide.\"\n\n\"Orientation guide? Are you Satan?\" Phil questioned.\n\nThe man laughed. \"No, my friend, my name is Brandon. I just work here. Follow me.\"\n\nPhil and Brandon toured the \"pits\" of Hell, which turned out to be nothing less than a 4-Star resort. There was a golf course, food court, and even a sauna. There were \"guests\" and guides everywhere. \n\n\"Brandon, why doesn't Hell suck?\" \n\n\"Well, Phil, Heaven is way better. This place doesn't even have booze. They only have DirecTV and 25mbps internet. It really gets boring just being lazy all the time. Now let's go talk to the big boss.\"\n\nAfter some more walking, they meander up to the reception center. Brandon tells the receptionist to go get the big boss. \n\nOut walks Satan, a tall, red, devilish man in a Hawaiian shirt, boat shorts, and flip flops. \n\n\"Oh a new guest, what's up bro?\" Satan says in the same tone as \"The Dude\". \n\n\"Satan? Where the he-... Where the here is all the torture and fire and disgust? The only fire was on the walk in.\"\n \n\"That was around back before I took over man, and the fire is just for theatrics. I hate torture, it's gross, and it screws with my chi.\"\n\n\"But you're the devil.\" Phil is in disbelief.\n\n\"That's, like, your opinion, man. I might be evil, but I'm not a dick.\"\n\n\n\n" ]	5
	[WP] Thor is tired of random, clueless people ending up in Valhalla.	[ "SIGH \nThe Mighty Thor let loose his mighty sign of boredom and hoisted another turkey leg. He then furrowed his mighty brow in consternation, which took some time as his brow is both vast and craggy. Things had started very well, he thought, but it was turning out to be a pretty dull eternity. \nA man appeared before Thor, wearing a rather plain looking black suit. He scanned The Feasting Hall with no small amount of confusion. \"Hey I'm young again! I thought I had a heart atta-\" He stopped dead at the sight of Thor. \nSIGH \n\" What is your name puny man and how did you come by your 'hero's death? said Thor with much disdain. \nThe man stared at Thor for a long moment before answering. \"My names Steven Goldwait. I uh, I thought I was in a courtroom. I'd just lost this huge fucking case and then it felt like my chest was exploding. \nThor raised one mighty eyebrow. \" Your enemy struck you down? \" boomed Thor. \nSteven seemed to forget his situation at being reminded of the trial. \"We had this guy nailed to the wall, he was guilty as sin!\" he railed. \"I can't believe that snake Goodman had the gall to take the case in the first damn place\" \nSIGH \n\" Another lawyer, I see \" said Thor as he slowly lifted his mighty enchanted hammer Mjolnar. Thor smashed the bewildered lawyer with all his godly might, shattering the mans skeleton into an uncountable number of pieces instantly. Where his remains ever landed, Thor could not see and he resumed eating his giant turkey leg. \nA dull eternity indeed. ", "\"And still another weakling approaches! I'll give you but one chance; explain yourself\" Boomed the mighty God of thunder, his hammer raised to about hip-height, his shield lay propped against his leg, bright and shining. His powerful visage looked, I surmised, like the cover of a Power Metal Album. Man O' War, perhaps. Blind Guardian, at a stretch.\n\nMy mind tends to wander when I get nervous. Over the shoulder of the God I could spy the head of his father. A ragged scar ran down the old Norseman's face, crossing over his milk-white and crimson eye.\n\n\"Speak, Carter, son of Doug. You have but little time.\" He looked more like Gandalf the Grey than the mighty God of gods that he was. His spear reached nearly ten feet. Both Gods towered over me, evidence of their giant's blood, but not so that they were giant themselves. The old man smiled softly.\n\nI wasn't fooled. His kindness was sincere, but his wrath was swift.\n\n\"A-As you say, D-d-donar, son of Wotan.\" I mumbled, my mind new what to say, my lips were still frozen in fear. \"I k-know not what you ask of me.\"\n\nThor's eyebrows raised, and his hammer lowered just a bit. I have peaked his interest. \"You name us true,\" he replied, his eyes scanning over me quizzically. It's how I imagined a wolf would choose the weakest in the pack. \"And you speak as we do... I ask you, how many fell to your name and how did it happen you came to Valhalla?\"\n\nI nodded, quicker than I meant to. \"Yes, of course. Forgive me, Donar. In the presence of your visage I temporarily lost hold of my senses.\" The god's lips curled, ever so slightly. He was proud, and I knew it. \"I must admit, I too am perplexed, I know not how I came to be here. But then, I know not how I left Midgard. May I ask that of you, Wotansson?\"\n\nThe young god squinted, and turned to his father. \"How did he perish, father?\"\n\nWotan smiled. \"In life he was a caster of runes, he learned the art of war, and He came to die with a blade in his hand... of a sort.\" The older god's face turned up as he smiled.\n\nDonar's face twisted into a frown. \"Impossible. Your time is past that of honorable battle and heroes. How came you to know the art of war? The casting of runes? How came you to die with sword in hand?\"\n\nSuddenly, everything seemed to fall into place in my mind. And a smiled. I cast my eyes around the hall, and I saw the faces of Spartans, of Vikings and Franks and Persians who had died, as I did. I saw fires burned low, others burning fiercely in the dark, casting a twisting pattern of shadows all about the room. Smoke curled from cooking fires, the meat over the flame seemed to fill the room with their aroma. The sound was a clamor of laughter, and pain, and joy and sorrow.\n\n I turned to my right, and saw the face of a man that seemed so familiar.... We met eyes, and then, I was certain.\n\n\"Allow me to explain, my liege.\" I began, my voice swelling to fill the clamor of the room. I felt a power inside me, a confidence I'd lacked for most of my life. \"Wotan, Donar, my lords.\" I bowed deeply before straightening. \"I learned the ways of my forefathers from a master, from a place called HEMA, an organization dedicated to keeping the ways of old alive and breathing, for men and iron to remain bonded, as you intended.\"\n\n\"To my name I have scores, I have felled them with blade and axe, with hammer and bow, with sword and with gun. I have lead armies to victory, and I have cut down scores of enemies in but an instant!\" My voice was booming now, and I paced and began to speak with hands, in a show of theatrics \"I wrote tales, fought dragons, slew countless men, and elves and giants! I have bathed men in the heat of fire, I have slew men at the end of my spear, my hands lay drenched in the blood of my enemies.\" I paused, breathing for just a second. The Hall of Heroes was impossibly quiet, only the sound of sizzling meat and crackling fire remained.\n\nI resumed, turning to address the larger portion of my audience.\n\n\"But all men must die. It is so. So, I did die, as all men should, with a sword in my hand and a roar on my lips! At the end of a spear, I perished!\" I walked briskly to the table that adorned the middle of the hall, and hefted a tankard. \"And may the man who slew me come here, so I may show him how I feel about it!\" I called! Downing the tankard in a single go.\n\nA roar went up then, and it took Odin slamming the blunt end of spear in the ground to silence them.\n\nI nodded appreciatively, turning to address the gods once more. \"I wish of you only one thing now, Donar, I wish only to stay in your hall, to drink of your mead and make war with you until Ragnarok, I only wish to dine with the fathers of my fathers.\"\n\nThe young god stared at me for a long, tense moment, his face like stone. Not a man spoke, none so much as moved as the god made his decision.\n\nSuddenly, he smiled. \"I welcome you to my hall, Carter Dougsson.\"\n\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\"It just seems so much like him,\" The widow laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. \"He used to joke about 'dying in battle'. I guess he got his wish.\" She chuckled. \n\n\"He died doing what he loved.\" The man to her left replied. \"Playing with foam swords in the woods with a bunch of other nerds.\" He laughed, tears running down his face.\n\n\"He'd like that we're all trying to laugh about it, right?\" A second woman said between gasping sobs.\n\n\"Yeah...\" The widow sighed, taking another sip of the drink in front of her. \"He would....\"\n\n\n", "He heard stories of the great hall, but never did he think anymore of it than that. He looked around stone-faced. It was alive, echoes of flutes and strings swam through the hall, songs of fallen heroes and illustrious battle filled the air. Laughter thundered as warriors shared their tales with full-breasted maidens on their laps and mugs of wine in hand. A Spartan hoplite stumbled in front of him with a goblet of his own and chuckled.\n\n\"Look what we have here, a fresh one.\" he said eyeing him from head to foot. \"Just arrive did ya?\"\n\nHe adjusted his frames and cleared his throat, \"Y...yea. I mean yes. I'm Dave\"\n\n\"Orestes, I'll show ya 'round...though I must say, a little squishy around the edges to be a man slayer.\" he said tapping golden belt with his knuckle. \"How many to your name?\"\n\nThere it was. Even in death, there was no escaping the fat jokes. \"None...I think.\"\n\n\"Hades' beard...none? Valkyries'll let any ol' fart in these days. Ah no matter, drink!\" he said thrusting the mug to his chest, splashing its contents onto his face.\n\nDave wiped the red droplets from his lenses, \"Thanks.\"\n\n\"Come, right time you met the Prince o'these parts.\"\n\nBefore he could respond, the hoplite swung an arm around his neck and walked him through the great hall. They cut through flesh and glorious gold chainmail, scantly clad vixens and armored knights alike. He found himself staring at a fire-haired maiden in the arms of a gladiator as he passed by, her smile enough to cook his innards to a stew. His eyes darted from her sultry gaze to her lovers rage drunk stare before fastening his sight to the ground, the safest place to look.\n\nBrawls erupted around them as they ducked under flying tables, dodged kegs of alcohol and hopped over an occasional body or two. \n\n\"Haven't they had enough fighting for a lifetime?\" Dave asked, evading a golden sword that went careening past his brow.\n\n\"What is a great hall without a good tussle to warm the blood, Aye? Battle keeps life in the chest and the wenches in bed.\" Orestes assured him. \"Speakin' of wenches, look there.\"\n\nHe scanned the scene in front of him and noticed a crowd collecting around two warriors locked in a stare-down, each snarling a hair away from the other's nose. \"Who are they?\" Dave asked.\n\n\"That one there is Ogedei the Mongol and the other, Fayrooz the Persian. The Persian's been eyeing the Mongol's woman, and the steppe nomads got no love for that kinda finagling. Just ask Gengis...\" he paused for a moment before continuing, \"actually, no, don't ask Gengis.\" \n\n\"Why are they here?\"\n\n\"Ogedei that smelly bastard, the Valkyries counted thirty seven at the edge of blade, ten to his bare hands, and one, believe it or not, from his stench alone.\"\n\nDave took a sniff and knew exactly what he meant.\n\n\"As for the Persian, killing is about all hes good at. Eighteen string of ears he had around his neck when he arrived. Lost his last one in a bet a week ago I think. If only his skill at dice was as good as his disembowelment.\" He and his companion sliced through the gathering crowd and moved toward their destination.\n\nBefore long, they arrived. He eyed the Norse god seated atop his throne sipping wine from a goblet, Mjolnir beside him at arms length.\n\n\"Got another, Thor.\" The Spartan said with a not-so-soft nudge. He staggered forward and caught himself after a few fumbling steps.\n\nThe Norse god lowered his goblet and locked his eyes onto him. \"'Nother shite-faced know-nothin'\" he said, his golden beard ran red with wine, eyes scarlet with vexation. \"An' who in Freyja's tits are you s'posed to be?\" \n\n\"I...I'm Dave...Thor, uh, sir.\" \n\n\"Dave.\" he said rising from his throne, \"And how many sons of whores stains your blade...Dave?\"\n\nHe looked around, the hall fell silent, no more hearty laughs or lustful calls. The fighters paused mid brawl and the maidens held their breath, hand to chest.\n\n\"I didn't kill...anyone.\" \n\n\"Ah, another millennial. Where's your armor? Your ruddy sword an' shield...?\" Bolts of electricity sparked around his temples and crackled down the length of his body to his fists. \"If these Valkyrie's send one more 21st century ball o'shite accountant here...\"\n\n\"But I saved hundreds.\" Dave said slicing the giant's sentence in half. Thor relaxed his striated muscles and took a seat on his throne once again.\n\n\"Explain.\"\n\n\"I was no accountant, I taught English overseas in a land called Yemen. There weren't more than two hundred people in the building including staff. I stepped outside, when the students were having lunch in the courtyard for a walk, and that's when I saw him. A jacket in ninety degree weather, something was off.\"\n\nThor scratched his beard and droplets of wine dribbled down and landed on his thigh. He and the hall continued to listen in silence.\n\nDave continued, \"I approached him and that's when I knew. He ran for the building but I managed to grab his wrist. He knocked me down but I clutched his ankle and drove him into the ground. I got on top of him before he made it to the children. I felt it, underneath his coat. I knew what was going to happen. I heard the beeps, they came in threes. And then a flash of white.\" He fell as silent as the crowd.\n\nMinutes passed, then two, then three. To Dave, it felt like an eternity. At last, Thor arose from his throne and stepped down from the rising until he stood towering over him. Dave looked up at the giant.\n\n\"Every filthy fleshbag here is a slayer, but how many of them are saviors? For once, the Valkyries were right.\" The Norseman said, \"Welcome to Valhalla.\"" ]	3
Describe an average day in the world of a superhero who uses his powers for something other than saving the world. Or maybe your superhero is discovering his powers, and doesn't know what good he can do with them yet. *again, for evil characters, replace hero with villain, and saving with taking over.	[WP] You are a superhero/villain. But instead of saving/taking over the world, you use your powers to....	[ "bbbbzzzzzztttt…please fuck off….bbbbzzzzzttttttt…fuck off…..bbbbbzzzzZZZTTTTT…fuck off..BBBBBZZZZZZTTTTT…. “OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” I raised my hand and the beam of superheated plasma sheared the corner of the raggedy sofa, exploded the fridge and melted the wall of the trailer behind it. \n\nAll that was left was a straight hole through to the outside, the morning light began to filter in and mix with the smoke, illuminating the small one roomed trailer. “Damn flies” I said as I stood up and walk to where my pants laid on the ground from the night before. \n\n“Why are my pants in the middle of the room, what hap-” oh shit… she didn’t wak- \n\nI heard a glass shatter, turning around to find the half covered body of...err….Sheala? maybe. Her mouth moved in odd silent shapes as she tried to find words to convey what she just saw. I raised my hand towards her, in almost a greeting fashion….\n", "I have lived so very long.\n\nI have known all facets of myself, and the greater humanity.\n\nWhen I first found I could not die, I tried to make a difference, I tried to save humanity, raise it from it's ashes.\n\nAnd in return I was shunned, ostracized, they hated me. They dropped me in a hole and threw away the key. And then they forgot me.\n\nI do not hate them, I do not seek retribution. It is not quite that I forgive them, it is more that I know them too well to destroy them.\n\nAnd so here I sit, waiting for layer upon layer of concrete to crumble, for sheets of metal to rust. \n\nI wait in darkness, in light. I feel the earth shifting slowly beneath me.\n\nI am Resident 0001 of the God Prison.\n\nAnd one day I feel it, I feel the crushing, fiery light surround me, fill me.\n\nThe earth is consumed by the expanding sun.\n\nWe now drift among the infinite.\n\nAnd all shall know there is light." ]	2
Based on this [relevant XKCD](https://xkcd.com/1040/large/)	[WP] Some scientists, while exploring the depths of the Mariana trench have found a strange door blocking the way.	[ "Thousands of man hours, millions of dollars, and countless R&D prototypes and we finally reached the point where we can make it to the bottom! We can finally explore something harder to see into than space! We were so damn excited! Its too fucking bad we have to scrap the project, huh Maureen? We reached the end of our budget and even though we have the capacity to go down there, guess what!? HEADQUARTERS WONT GIVE US AUTHORIZATION TO BRING A GODDAMN LOCKSMITH! Oh well, maybe thats for the best. Im gonna go become a diving instructor before this shady ass contract gets me killed. ", "\"Is that a... door?\" said Mark as he and his team descended further down into the pit. \n\n\n\"Affirmative, we are receiving the image as well. Can you get any closer?\" \n\n\"13 meters until contact\" responded Mike. \"wait, there is something written on it. Let me get a bit closer.\"\n\n\"The writing, oh Mike do you copy?\"\n\n\"No, no it can't be. God please, God, it can't be! No help me please \n\n\"Mike! Mike, do you copy?\" \n\nThe camera feed cut off, with the haunting image \"Department of Motor Vehicles\" forever burned in the memory of anyone unfortunate enough to gaze upon it...\n\n\n\n\nEdit:formatting\n\nSorry if there are any spelling errors, this is my first response on /WP. \n", "\"...it's a door, sir.\"\n\nExpedition Leader Norm Reynolds heard a lot over a long career. He checked the signal of the audio, and picked the wax from his ears. \"Excuse me, Mike, please repeat.\"\n\nThe control room operators shared looks. One muttering something about 'too many joints' others shook their heads in either amusement or annoyance. \"It's a door, sir.\" Mike enunciated slowly as though speaking to a particularly slow child in a classroom.\n\n\"Mike, save the jokes for later, what is down there?\" Norm felt a headache forming underneath his forehead, and resisted the urge to put his fingers to his stress lines.\n\n\"It's a fucking door, sir!\" Finally, the resident smartass snapped, fed up. \"Let met bring up visuals.\"\n\nMuffled scuffling echoed through the speakers for a few minutes, escalating tension in the room and Norm flicked on a CD player, Elvis Presley echoed. He would have asked for a cigarette, but had given up on the insistence and threat of his wife five years back.\n\nThe submarine cameras crackled with static, and after a bit of fiddling, the camera cleared up and showed it.\n\nThe tension vanished and everyone stared. It was a door. A plain looking thing made of oak-finish and a brass handle. No one spoke, the only noise in the command center was static and breathing, aside from the faint music.\n\n\"Uh, sir...\" Mike began, starting them from whatever depth of thought or attempted, asked. \"What do I do?\"\n\nThe operators looked at one another, then to Norm who seemed just as pole-axed as everyone else. He pressed a button on the console in front of him. \"Extend arm, and open.\" he said.\n\nHe sat back, blinking as if reality itself just jerked his chain, screaming 'Gotcha 'conk!' then retreated to whatever void it came from. \n\nOn screen, a robotic arm extended and the operators, Norm included, held their breaths as it clamped around the brass handle, turned, and opened.\n\nOut spilled golden light, blinding them and Mike who cursed. Norm raised his arm and hands, peering through his fingers. Then came music.\n\nNot music from the speakers of the room, but the door, which by all things physics and nature was impossible at the absurd depth of the trench.\n\nNorm's jaw, if possible, would have unhinged, hit through his lap and the bowels of the ship.\n\nOn the other side was a crowd of mermaids, cheering and swooning, males and females alike for a man on stage. He had gelled hair, side burns and a tight leather outfit that exposed his hairy chest.\n\nHe sang on and on with a husky voice, his hips swinging side to side as he played the guitar.\n\n\"Hey!\"\n\nAgain, everyone started. A bouncer mermaid came up, gruff looking and bald, he glared at the submarine, then through the camera. \"You got an invitation from his highness?\"\n\nAfter a minute of no response, the bouncer rolled his eyes. \"Then get lost. Friggin' tourists.\" he muttered, closing the door, and a lock echoed that reverberated through the room's audio-receptors.\n\nMike, for once, remained completely silent. The control room operators looked at one another, announcing a break, and offering cigarettes and alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.\n\n\"Andy,\" Norm stopped the youngest operator from leaving, hand extended. \"Hand over a cigarette.\"\n\nFresh-faced Andy blinked, and opened his mouth. \"Now, son, I need a goddamn cigarette.\" Fumbling, he handed them over and Norm placed it in his mouth before lighting it.\n\nAs he did so, he called for whisky. Not for everyone. The whole bottle for himself.\n\n", "\"Hey Joseph, you know what we're probably gonna end up discovering?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"More water.\"\n\nThe two friends laughed without breaking fixation on their task at hand in the tank-like submarine. Eric was in charge of steering the craft (known as an HPSC) and observing the rich view of nothingness that filled the small port window. Joseph, being the marginally more serious of the two, sat behind and maintained the dozens of tiny gauges that could mean life or death.\n\nAs the minutes ticked on the HPSC descended deeper and deeper into the mysterious and legendary Mariana trench. At least, that's what Joseph insisted, based on pressure readings. Vision provided no clues as to what direction the two were moving in, or if they were even moving at all. The headlights had a distance of 500 meters but struck nothing, except the occasional piece of unidentifiable material (Eric couldn't imagine what it could be but wasn't particularly interested). Even the most terrifying of deep sea creatures didn't dare venture into the zone that Eric and Joseph cracked their lame jokes in.\n\n\"Hey, Joseph, when are we going to reach China?\"\n\n\"Actually, that's a common misconception.\" Joseph replied, imitating a college professor of sorts \"You see, burrowing through the earth won't lead you to reaching China on the otherside. Such an assumption would be the uneducated guess of a blue collar mule. Nay, such a trip is rendered impossible due to the earth's core being molten magma. Also, Chinese border patrol is brutal. You'd probably be better off burning alive than getting tossed into one of their prisons.\"\n\n\"Golly gee,\" Eric said in a stereotypical hillbilly accent \"Well I dun' thought the earf were filled wif' candy!\"\n\nBefore Joseph was able to even open his mouth, Eric gasped loudly. \"Holy hell!\" he shouted, startling his partner. \"Take a break from keeping us alive and check this out!\" Joseph peered over to the port window. Off in the seemingly unsurpassable distance was a light. It was faint, subtle and easy to miss but it was present no less. \"Jesus Christ,\" Joseph started \"If that's reaching us from here then it must be a quarter of a mile away. That's a hell of a light.\"\n\n\"What do you think it is? Do you think it's… the light?\"\n\n\"The light? Like, Heaven?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nJoseph smirked. \"What would you be doing going to Heaven?\" His smile faded when he remembered the gauges. \"Uh, keep us on course for it. Looks like it's situated downwards, so… keep at it.\" He trailed off. Eric didn't respond.\n\nBoth men began to sweat, as though their simple work had somehow become more challenging just through the presence of a new variable. Eric's eyes never left the light (which grew bigger and bigger with each passing minute) while Joseph obsessively turned each and every knob, switch and button, never satisfied with any of them for longer than a few heartbeats.\n\nThe nerve grinding tension of the HPSC's frustrating slowness began to reach its peak as the dim light grew to become a near blinding beacon. Even Joseph, who was facing the opposite direction, could see the vaguely blue tinted light casting shadows in the submarine interior. Unwilling to be distracted, he continued to minutely alter the various status levels of the sub (such as temperature, pressure, energy output) to his own meticulous standards. He was almost free of the grasp of curiosity when he heard Eric whisper \"Uh, Joseph… I think we're here.\"\n\nLocated just thirty or so feet from the HPSC was a large blue half-sphere jutting out of a solid, smooth surface of unknown properties. The light didn't appear to be made of glass, or any other familiar materials. Instead of being emitted from behind a clear object, it was simply there. Any interest in the light was short lived in favor of what was located beneath it.\n\nA massive hexagonal piece of what appeared to be metal protruded ever so slightly from the strangely smooth ocean floor. A large, saw toothed dividing line lay down the center, an indication of two seperate pieces coming together. It didn't take long for Eric to mutter \"It's a door…\" under his breath.\n\nThe two sat in awe, worried that any further sounds would somehow bungle the discovery. It was finally Eric who quietly asked \"How do we open it?\". As if in response, the blue light turned a deep red and blasted a beam into the port window of the HPSC. Both Joseph and Eric screamed and jumped in response as the light narrowed into a single laser beam. As the duo hugged each other for comfort, the laser beam began moving rapidly in steady lines across the port window. It left no immediate traces but, a few seconds after contact, light would emit from the parts that the laser touched. It was writing a message.\n\nNeither man had collected themselves when the laser abruptly died, followed by the red light fading entirely. The entire world around them lay in pitch black, save for the glowing message that lay in what just a couple feet in front of them. Silence. At long last, Joseph worked up the courage to move forward and read the mysterious inscription. His eyes widened in and his mouth opened when he finished. He fell back, too caught up in the revelation to bother with maintaining his balance. Gripped with a terrified curiosity, Eric crawled forward to read the glowing message. It was printed in a fine cursive. It read:\n\n\"Hello and thank you for playing the trial version of Earth! If you would like to continue with your adventure, please purchase the full version for 元299,999,999,999.\"\n\nMuch like his friend before him, Eric fell back. His heart beat so loudly that it almost hurt his ears. Nothing was on his mind except the information he had just read. As the text faded, so did all light in the sub, leaving Eric and Joseph in utter darkness. Neither seemed to notice the pitch black. Neither seemed to notice that all systems in the HPSC were offline. Neither seemed to even notice the presence of the other. Nothing mattered to Eric or to Joseph, both of whom proved unable to formulate a single coherent thought. The struggle to comprehend the unfathomable words was a challenge too great to be bested. Their deaths, which occurred less than twenty minutes later, proved to be the only halting in the endless parade of questions that ran rampant in their minds. Had they been capable of feeling anything in death, though, Eric and Joseph would have felt thankful." ]	4
Looks like a mistake was made.	[WP] "Sorry, but...you're actually NOT the Chosen One."	[ "\"something is amiss\" he thought as he wandered outside. He thought he was going nuts, shit everyone around him certainly seemed to think so. So, feeling restless he took of for a stroll. He thought \"well if this is going to be the night shit comes true might as well make it count right?\" is what he thought while he walked. It was dark, pitch black as a matter of fact. He was walking in one of the first neighbourhoods when he just said to himself \"I wonder if anyone has the balls to come out and face me. And just as they did he realized he didn't want them to copy him. He was happy being unique in his own way. Sure he was insecure but the burden would be too much to carry. On his walk he had some mental breakdowns, he had to question everything he knew. He cried multiple times, already making up for a lot in the past. He realized the things somewhat more important in life. And after the fairytale was over, everything went back to normal.\nWhat he did was symbolically live out a fantasy as a prophet. After that he went back to bed and the next day everyone was acting normal again. What changed? Nothing really, except episodes of grandure were added to his long list of mental issues. ", "\"Sorry, but...you're actually NOT the Chosen One.\"\n\nI don't get the joke but make sure to chuckle audibly into the microphone, \"Haha! I love it, Dennis. Dennis, everyone!\"\n\nEveryone is laughing now.\n\n\"No but honestly thank you, population of the Earth, for coming out to see me give my humble speech today. You know I'm a bigger fan of all of you than you all are of me right?\"\n\nHundreds of translators work hurriedly to convey the message and a wave of chuckling and clapping ensue.\n\n\"You've been great once again and I look forward to-\"\n\n\"-I'm sorry to interrupt again but I wasn't joking, you're not the Chosen One like we initially thought.\"\n\nThere's less laughter now.\n\n\"Dennis, you know I love you man but I don't think people are getting the joke that-\"\n\n\"-please, I know this is a bad time but, we just thought, while everyone is gathered, you know, it would be easier to...make the announcement\"\n\nSlightly worried now I respond, \"the announcement?\"\n\n\"Yes, the announcement, that we've been revising our research and finding new documents and the Global Committee for the Chosen One are now certain beyond any doubt that you aren't actually the Chosen One as we initially believed.\"\n\nSilence. I was silent. \n\n\"B-But, but, Dennis-\"\n\n\"-I'm sorry, but there's no easy way around this.\" Dennis hesitantly took the microphone, \"I'm sorry everyone but it's true. We were wrong. But there's no doubt this time. I'm afraid he's not the Chosen One.\"\n\n\"Well then who is the Chosen One, Dennis?\" I retorted abruptly.\n\n\"Well, we're still in talks with the U.N. and we haven't located him just yet but apparently he's called...Mark Smith\"\n\nMore silence. \n\n\"Mark Smith?\" \n\n\"Yes\"\n\n\"You're sure?\"\n\n\"Very.\"\n\nI paused. \n\n\"You're sure it's not me and that the Chosen One is a guy whose whereabouts you don't know but whose name is Mark Smith.\"\n\n\"That's right.\"\n\nI paused again.\n\n\"...Fuck.\"", "I was polishing my sword when I heard the tent flaps rustle behind me. \n\n\"Come in,\" I said, as I turned to greet the late night visitor.\n\nMalena appeared at the entrance. Her dark hair was free and she was not wearing her seers' sash. She stood there with an inscrutable expression on her face. Her gaze moved around my tent, scanning over my belongings, weapons and books, before resting finally on my face. Some sentiment in her eyes intensified, but she did not speak.\n\n\"I can never sleep well after battle,\" said I, breaking the unusual, rather tense silence that had set between us.\n\nShe nodded. \"I know. I was expecting to find you awake. They want to speak to you.\" With that, she left the tent, and I followed quickly behind. \n\nThe other seers were seated around a tall pillar of white fire a little way away from the tents. The bright light flickered on their grim features, and their voices died away as we approached. There was a sweet, delicate smell in the air, the same scent as Malena's clothes, skin and hair.\n\nRaelen spoke, his deep voice barely a whisper. \"We congregate to uncover the way, the true path, to find the signs that lead us away from the darkness. We did so tonight, and our visions were... disturbing, yet we saw them with clarity and certainty.\" He paused and I looked to Malena for some reassurance. None came, and a knot tightened in my chest. How many more were to die? What other suffering would come over these lands, to plague people who deserve no such pain? I would stop it, I would put an end to the misery and darkness. Hadn't I, many months ago, pledged my life and my soul to do so.\n\nRaelen continued. \"We are instruments of a force we barely understand. The fire led us to you. We do not know if we misinterpreted, or if in finding you we fulfilled some higher purpose. Tonight, the fire shows us that there is another meant for this destiny we have believed to be yours. You are not the one called to this journey. Your path lies elsewhere.\" There was a bitter note of frustration in his tone. \"And we have a difficult, and much longer way ahead of us.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow morning, you will be given an escort and supplies to return to your village,\" said Gresna. \"You will receive compensation for your services to this great cause, and for the light that you have brought to the world.\"\n\nI could sense that I was being dismissed. His last words blurred in my mind. I walked back to my tent, my heart pounding and my feelings alternating rapidly between disbelief, anger, and sheer numbness. Throughout this mire, one little thought took hold in my mind. It grew, fuelled by hope that began appearing increasingly reasonable. They were wrong. Hadn't I defeated the Shreevers at Yotte Hill? Hadn't I united the five provinces? Hadn't I shown magic previously unknown? The prophecy described me. I was certain.\n\nWhen I reached my tent I started packing. I had no intention of returning to my village. I'd leave tonight, quickly. I took weapons and a few books, even though they were not mine. In my rush, I did not hear Malena enter. \n\n\"You are leaving,\" she said softly. \n\n\"I am,\" I said resolutely.\n\n\"Return to your village,\" said Malena. Her eyes were pleading. \"Please, Sebastian. Leave this country. You have been given this chance.\"\n\nI put my hands on her shoulders and meeting her eyes, I asked, \"Why? What is coming?\"\n\nMalena shook her head. She pressed her head on my chest and wrapped her arms around me. \n\n\"They are wrong. This is my calling.\"\n\n\"They are not wrong. I am the one who saw it,\" she said, her voice muffled slightly. \"Leave this place, Sebastian. I don't know how much I can help you anymore. I already betrayed my vows.\" She released me and looked away. \n\n\"You have not. You said yourself your attachment to me wasn't encouraged, but is not against the vows.\"\n\nShe did not reply. She stood there, unmoving and silent, as I finished packing. I could not see her face.\n\n\"It makes no difference if I am the chosen one or not. I will do what I can for this world.\"\n\n\"I am coming with you,\" she whispered. \n", "Jake groaned and propped himself up with his sword. Just a month ago he was heading to the Bahamas to escape the winter cold, now he was in a volcano and all he wanted was some chill air. Lava spewed from the charred floor. It dripped off igneous icicles, sizzling in a sprout of fire before steaming into nothing.\n\n“A fucking dragon,” Jake chuckled and stood on shaky knees. He counted two broken ribs on himself. It brought his month long count to sixteen.\n\nThe dragon’s roar echoed inside the volcano, making it sound like it was coming from all directions. Jake grimaced and readied himself. Unlike the stories, dragons were surprisingly quiet creatures, roaring only before attacking. This one had spent all day roaring, it was probably scared because it knew it was the last one.\n\n“C’mon you bastard.” Jake muttered.\n\nThe roar grew louder. Jake squinted into the heart of the volcano beneath him, its orange lava glowing like the sun. Pitch black eyes stared back, growing larger by the second. The dragon’s scales glowed orange. Another warning. Jake lunged to the side as a stream of fire erupted from the dragon’s mouth. The dragon followed its fire to the ceiling. It circled Jake, waiting for its chance to swoop down talons first.\n\n“You’re only going to have one shot, Jake.” Cortana said through Jake’s headpiece. “Your shield won’t last much longer and those were the last of our batteries.”\n\n“That’s fine,” Jake said, “I won’t die here. We have a date after this.”\n\n“Jake, focus.”\n\n“I’ve never been more focused in my life!” Jake grunted as he dodged to the left. The talons were almost as big as Jake and even sharper than the crappy holy sword he had found. “After all, you promised to tell me your real name after this, Cortana.” He joked as the dragon flew back to the ceiling.\n\n“This isn’t a joke Jake.” Cortana said. It must’ve been Jake’s imagination, but Cortana sounded worried.\n\n“Relax, I’m the Chosen One.” Jake replied sarcastically. Those were the words that had nearly got him killed five times and counting. Apparently, being the Chosen One also meant you were supposed to dive into whatever danger you could.\n\nThe dragon swooped down again. This time, Jake charged straight at it, his eyes set on its soft underbelly. With a sharp cry, he swung his sword up only to feel the impact tremoring through his body. Sparks flew from the tip of his blade and once again, the dragon flew back up. The dragon’s scales were harder than steel.\n\n“Jake,” Cortana whispered.\n\n“Yes, princess?”\n\n“You’re not the Chosen One.”\n\nJake laughed and eyed the dragon circling above. “It’s no time for jokes Cortana. Focus.”\n\n“I’m sorry Jake.” Her voice trembled as if she was about to cry. “We found our mistake after the third dragon, but you were doing so well.”\n\nFor the first time in the past hour, Jake let his eyes dart away from the dragon. “You’re kidding me, right?”\n\n“No, Jake. We found the real Chosen One and he turned tail and ran.”\n\nJake sighed. “Shit. Why are you telling me now?”\n\n“In case…” Cortana’s voice faded away.\n\n“In case I don’t come back?” Jake laughed. “Relax Cortana, we have a date after this, and there’s no way I won’t be there.”\n\n“But don’t you get it? You’re not—”\n\n“Who the hell do you think I am?” Jake screamed. “I never thought I was special until you told me I was, Cortana. I don’t give a shit about what some monk wrote thousands of years ago. I dare fate or God to come between me and our date.”\n\nThe dragon returned his scream with a deafening roar. Its scales glowed orange once again.\n\n“Jake,” Cortana was definitely crying now. “I like French. And don’t be late.\"\n\nJake stared at the dragon, his mouth spread into a wide smile. “I’ll see you soon.”\n", "\"No!NONONONONONONO\" Vlad the Indescribable stomped his feet childishly, moving around the room in a huff, \"How did they find the chosen one so quickly? The one person who could foil all my plans and make it so that I couldn't take over the entire world.\"\n\nI cut him off, \"The entire world?\"\n\n\"Literally yes! Do you know how much money is in the entire world?\"\n\n\"No..\"\n\n\"IT DOESN'T MATTER IF YOU OWN EVERYTHING\" He screamed before lying down on the floor, \"dozens of years of planning down the drain because of some stupid prophecy that somebody wrote while three miles into the bottom of the glass.\"\n\n\"Oh man, I didn't mean to ruin so much by existing.\" I sulked over to him, holding out a hand to help him off the ground.\n\n\"Whatever man, it always happens. Every single person that tries to take over the world gets foiled by some sort of chosen one,\" Vlad looked down at the floor, keeping his eyes from meeting mine as he took my hand and stood up, \"it's like they just pull them out of thin air or something.\"\n\n\"Look, I really feel bad about this,\" I wrapped an arm around him, \"I've only been training for three months and you were working on this for years, I don't feel like that's fair.\"\n\n\"It's not,\" he reached down and removed the gun from his belt, \"but you're from West Philadelphia,\"\n\nI cut him off, \"Born and raised.\n\nVlad stopped his moaning for a moment, the gears in his head spinning as he thought over everything he had been told about the chosen one, \"Those fuckers,\" he began, shoving me away, \"You're not a chosen one, they thought I would have never watched the Fresh Prince of Bell Air?\"\n\n\"I don't think that's how it's spelled.\"\n\n\"Um, how can you tell how I spell things?\"\n\n\"No idea.\"\n\n\"Well then why would you,\" he paused, \"Don't change the subject.\"\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\n\"Look, if the Fresh Prince is what they were using as the prophecy, then you're just here to trick me into giving up.So that I wouldn't take over the world, even though there isn't a prophet.\"\n\n\"I mean, no.\" I lied. \n\n\"So then,\" he took several steps away from me, returning to his chair across the room and taking a seat, looking back at me with one eyebrow raised, \"let's try this again.\"\n\nThe lights shut off, the room now only being lit by torchlight, flickering across the imposing form across the room, Vlad the Indescribable, \"You've come to challenge me?\"\n\nI didn't respond, I was too busy trying to slip out the back door." ]	5
	[WP] Write a story which is an emotional rollercoaster from start to finish.	[ "This is an older piece of mine, but it fits the criteria, I believe.\n\n#A False Hope\n\nI let the girl spend the evening in hope.\n\nI had to let her keep that hope, because it kept her alive. Had the girl known the truth, she would have given herself over to the flames rather than accept her new life. Besides, it amused me to see her child-like faith; believing that men such as I would keep our promise.\n\nShe spent every hour of sunlight looking to the east, eager to catch the first glimpse of her new home. When the sun dragged the last fingers of light away, she would sit on the floor of our cabin as I told her stories of my home and childhood. I spoke to her of toys, and of trinkets. I told her of the pretty dresses my sister wore and I told her of the dances we learned.\n\nI must confess that I may have mislead her a bit. You see, she asked about my life. She asked about my sisters. I answered her every question truthfully – but the girl had no idea what she should have asked. She had no idea that in my country, there were people like me – and people like her. She should have asked what would happen to her.\n\nSometimes, if the weather got rough, the girl would get noisy and grate on my nerves. I kept myself calm by imagining what would happen when the ship landed. Her hope would blossom into a beautiful flower, only to be crushed as they throw her down and fasten the iron collar around her neck. I can imagine her blue eyes turning to me, scared and confused. I'll move towards her, and she'll reach out with the child-like hope that I'll comfort her.\n\nI'll have to decide what to do then. Do I smack her face and call her a name she has only heard in whispers, or do I take her arm and twist cruelly as my brothers put the shackles on her. I wonder if she'll still have a glimmer of hope in her eyes. If she does, I'll stand by her side and watch that hope fade, the searing pain of the brand shattering the trust we had.\n\nAfter that, I doubt I'll see much of her. She is a soft and gentle soul, and I know the slaves in our land don't take much stock in gentle.\n\nThe girl thinks I'm kind. She doesn't understand that my kindness is as false as her hope. Nor does she understand it isn't goodness that led me to bring her along – it was boredom.\n\n\n", "The coaster made its slow chug up the first peak, and the anticipation of the riders was building. The air was electric with the budding thrill as James started fumbling around in his pocket. \n\"What are you doing?\" I asked. \"You put your keys in the cubby, remember?\" His constant forgetfulness, which had been endearing when we first started seeing each other, was slowly becoming a major annoyance. He could hardly remember to pay his gas bill, much less where he parked his damn car. \n\"No, no...\" He shook his head nervously, and produced a small box. A small jewelry box. Like the type a ring comes in. Oh, God. \n\"Jules...I love you more than anything. Will you marry me?\" \nChug, chug, chug. Gasps from the other passengers. I looked in his eyes. They were big, brown, and hopeful. \nAnd then the tears. My tears. I always promised myself I wouldn't cry when I got engaged. I mean, it's so typical, right? But after everything...after every heartbreak, every rejection, every moment of loneliness, here was the man I loved more than anything. He was forgetful as a damn goldfish yet accepting of my jumbled mess and all the broken parts that made me me. And he wanted me, forever. \n\"Yes,\" I blubbered. \"Of course!\" The coaster reached the peak of the hill, ready for the thrill ride to come. And we were ready for our own thrill ride together to begin. The sun was setting at that moment, I remember. The pink and gold sky beckoned us forward, for the ups and downs of the future, to start our crazy own journey together. The start of a new forever. \nHe smiled, tears in his eyes. \"I love you, Ju-NOOOOOO!\" \nAnd that was the last we saw of my engagement ring. \n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Your new Guardian angel falls in love with you, and puts your life in danger just to impress you by saving you.	[ "She was the love of my life. My angel sent from above, just for me. As cliche as my words may be, I tell the truth; I could not live without her.\n\n\"Never worry, for I will always protect you.\"\n\nAnd then one day, she was gone. \nNo warning signs, no notes left behind... \nNo explanation.\n\nBefore long, I fell into a vast hole of despair. My family shared my grief, but it wasn't enough to keep me sane. There was no way I could bear the emptiness in my heart.\n\nI opened my safe, as if compelled by a higher being. \nI pulled out my gun. \nI loaded it. \nI put it against my head. \n\nEyes closed.\n\n\"I will always love you, my angel.\"\n\nClick.\n\nWhat happened? \nI slowly opened my eyes, winding my way down from the intense rush of adrenaline. \nIn front of me, my angel stood.\n\n\"I believe you.\"", "\"Hey, can I ask you a question?\" Cile said to the angel.\n\n\"What is it?\" Selaphiel answered.\n\n\"You became my guardian angel last week right?\"\n\n\"Yes, by my own request.\"\n\n\"Why is it that after I got a guardian angel, my life has been in much more danger?\"\n\n\"Well, the reason you were assigned a guardian angel, was that it was predicted you're life would soon be in danger.\"\n\n\"Well, I understand that, but doesn't it seem like it's a bit too much? The day you became my guardian angel, Monday, I was almost killed by a truck. Then, on Tuesday a plane chrashed into the school, and I was only saved because you dragged me outside. On Wednesday, someone tried to rob the bank while I was there. Thursday, someone breaks into my house and kills everyone except me, Friday, someone decides to shoot up the funeral to the people who died in the funeral, Saturday, riot police blocks all access in and out of the city, and yesterday, Sunday, a nuke is dropped on the area, and thanks to you I'm the only survivor.\"\n\n\"The truck and the riot police wasn't my fault,\" Seraphiel muttered.\n\n\"Sorry?\"\n\n\"Oh, nothing.\"\n\n\"I just feel that everything that goes bad recently is centered around me, like I'm being targeted.\"\n\n\"Wierd, huh. At least you have me to protect you.\"\n\n\"But considering that everyone I know is dead, why am I so calm?!\"\n\n\"Oh, as your guardian angel I also protect your sanity.\"\n\n\"W-wait. Are you saying that the reason I feel nothing over my friends' and family's death is you?\n\n\"Yes, but don't worry. To fill the void of their deaths, I will give you all my love.\"\n\n\"W-wait. Do you love me?\"\n\n\"What other reason could I have for making sure I could save you?\"\n\n\"Are you saying you orchastrated the all these deaths?\"\n\n\"Oops, didn't mean to tell you, but cat's out of the bag, I guess. However, me protecting your sanity will make sure you can't be angry at me~.\"\n\n\"Maybe not, but I think we should split up. That's a calm desicion, so you shouldn't be able to do anything about it.\"\n\n\"Ooh, very clever. It was your wits that made me love you in the first place. However, I disagree. I think we should do the opposite. We should become one being.\"\n\n\"You want to have sex?\"\n\n\"Oh no no no. I want something more direct. I want to eat you alive.\"\n\nCile felt a sensation on his shoulder. It was Seraphiels hand holding it tight so he couldn't escape.\n\nAs Seraphiel moved closer, Cile calmly asserted that the end was near.\n\n*****\n\nYay, a yandere story. I do like this type of character, so I thought this was as good a chance as any to practice writing them. As per usual, feel free to leave give feedback, and check out /r/shal5sucksatwriting for my other stories. \n\nP.S. Did this story need to be it's own because of NSFW? I thought it was okay since it was just a passing mention of it, but tell me and I'll know what to do later." ]	2
	[WP] A teenager who has been raised as an assassin his whole life falls in love with his first target.	[ "Cameron peered through the scope, lined up the sights, put tension on the trigger and held his breath. Five. Four. Three. Two. And he let his breath out, releasing the trigger. He could not do it. His target was too... present.\n\nFor the past month, Cameron had been studying Benjamin Cole. An entrepreneur who had exploded out of nowhere to start taking control of some the most exciting new tech companies to come out of Silicon Valley. He was tall, striking, wore immaculate clothes and had this smile that let everyone in on the joke. He was also Cameron's final exam.\n\nThe Pacific Educational School for Challenged Youth (PESCY) had been Cameron's home for the past seven years, ever since his militant father caught him with a crack pipe at age ten. Unbeknownst to that father, the school taught more than discipline and the three R's. They called them the five S's: Espionage, Stealth, Sniping, Shootfighting, and Escape. For those seven years, he had had minimal contact with his family and had concentrated on earning top marks at PESCY. All that stood between him and finishing at the top of his class was fulfilling this contract on Benjamin Cole. For a certain level of society, hiring PESCY for a job like this was similar to taking your kids to the barber college for their hair cuts: the job would get done, but it wasn't always as neat as you wanted. Cameron had been hoping to exceed those expectations.\n\nThen had come the dossier. Cole was too perfect. Cole had grown up with an abusive father, too. Cole had led a second life as a mob accountant, similar to Cameron's PESCY world. Cole had broken out of that life and made something of himself. He liked to ride bikes competitively. He did not drink alcohol, but preferred the same brand of fruit smoothy that Cameron liked. And he just looked so good; each of the hastily snapped pictures seemed to stare into Cameron's soul.\n\nAs Cameron started to stalk Cole, to learn more about his habits and his life, Cameron began to admire the man more and more. He started to change small things in his own life: started buying the same brand of razor, to style his hair the same way (though his blonde hair did not hold the part quite as well as Cole's brown hair did). Cameron had been isolated from real humans for seven years, people with warmth and humor. It should not have surprised anyone that he became attached to the first one he encountered.\n\nCole finished talking to some business associate and stepped into his car, an understated Audi convertible. The car spoke of wealth, but did not shove it down everyone else's throat, just like the man himself. In Cameron's eyes, he was perfect. So maybe he had used someone's money and was a little late in paying it back, Cole was making better use of it than whatever underworld sleazebag had hired PESCY to take him out.\n\nCameron bowed his head and sighed. Now he would have to tail Mister Cole to his house and see if there was something that he could do there. Either to complete the contract or something else. In his dreams, they were talking, laughing in front of a fireplace, getting to know each other. Maybe Cameron was cooking Cole a meal. It is surprising how much knife work and cooking have in common.\n\nThen the car blew up.\n\nCameron jammed his eye back against the rifle scope and started scanning the crowd. It took him a second, but he found the trigger man: Mister Kowploski, his math and bomb-making teacher. Mister K stared right at Cameron through the scope and shook his head. Then the man you had just blown up the potential love of Cameron's life walked on down the street, away from the burning car, with his hands in his pocket.\n\nCameron did not bother counting to five before pulling the trigger.", " \"You mean Rena, Mr. Grant's daughter?\" \n\n\"Yes, Grant's daughter. Grant loves his little girl, he really shouldn't have went against the corporation.\" \n\n\"Why don't I just kill Grant?\" \n\nKonrad had given a puzzled look when his father simply shrugged. He'd never been unsure about a target. He always had a reason. \n\n\"Nothing beats a father's love for his kids huh,\" Konrad teased but had seen no response in his father's features. Although something strange did occur to him- his father only showered him with love when an assassination was successful. The rest of the time, the smallest mistakes would land him with berating punishments that would keep him up at night. \n\nHe shook away the thoughts that fueled his anger towards his father, and made his way around Rena's bed. Konrad had been hesitant about her being his target, due to how quiet and withdrawn she always seemed. It was their senior year in high school, and because of his raging curiosity he had done his research on her. She had no social media, and only ever spoke to her one close friend. \n\nHe toyed with the blade as it rest on the palm of his gloves. The task was simple: one hand clamped over the mouth, two stabs to the throat and then wait until the target's breathing came to a halt. \n\nHe felt a powerful gush of adrenaline rip through his chest when she turned over and placed her hand over his. She was still asleep with her black hair a wild mess around her sun-kissed face, and the thick borders surrounding her eyes glued together in peace. \n\nIt was the perfect time to kill her, but he kept waiting. He kept waiting until his phone vibrated, and the vibration beneath his hand was enough to startle her. He was ready to attack and flee, yet something told him to wait for her reaction. \n\nThe small slit in her curtains allowed a sword of moonlight to stab through the darkness in her room, and reveal her tired eyes squinting up at him not with shock, but with confusion. \n\n\"What a dream,\" she murmured and closed her eyes, but still felt the cold, strong hand beneath her own. She opened her eyes again, and felt her heart flutter seeing her long-time high school crush looking back at her. \n\n\"What a dream?\" he asked in a curious tone.\n\n\"I never thought I'd see you in a dream so realistic. I don't have the balls to approach you in my dreams let alone in real life, how are you replying to me?\" \n\nRena eyed her target with the same intensity he eyed her with. Yes, he was her high-school crush but he was also an assassin who had no idea she could be his downfall. She knew everything about him, and knew his father had set him out after her. \n\nShe didn't enjoy the fact he was her assigned target, but she trusted her father who had set this whole situation up. Konrad's father, Mr. Regal had been training his son to kill the wealthiest and the most successful men in their communities, but hers had raised her as a type of bounty hunter. \n\nShe had questioned why Konrad was her target, if Mr. Regal was the one who ruined his child. Her father had told her it was wiser eliminate the most powerful obstacle protecting the villain before going after him. \n\nShe reached out to touch his arm, knowing it would not only manipulate her trust that this was a dream, but that this was most likely the only chance she'd get to be close to him. \n\nShe followed his eyes to the bottle of codeine syrup on her nightstand, and was glad to see the relief on his face. She wanted him to believe the cough medicine had put her in a ridiculous state of consciousness. \n\n\"I've always liked you,\" he confessed, and kept his eyes on hers as a silly smile spread across her lips. \n\n\"I've always liked you as well,\" she muttered sleepily, \"why don't you stay?\" \n\nHe slowly stood up, and flicked her night lamp on. She dared to glance up at him and discovered a threatening look in his eyes. Had he discovered a flaw in her plan to lure him? She subtly fixed her hand around the revolver beneath her comforter. \n\n\"Did you really think you could fool around with me, Rena?\" \n\n\n-• ______\n-•\n-\n-•\n-•\n-\n-•\n-• _______\n\n\nWow that might be long and confusing for an incomplete story D: \nSorry, I'm not quite a writer, and this may have strayed away from the prompt ily tho \n\n\n\n", "The evaluation room of the Institute was brightly lit, almost harshly so. The lights made James vaguely uncomfortable. He preferred darkness and shadows. \n\nJames glanced at the middle-aged man and woman sitting across the wide table from him. He only knew them as Headmaster and Headmistress. They'd trained him since childhood in the art of killing, the precise science of snuffing out human life in the most effective and efficient ways possible. \n\nThe Headmaster was flipping through a file, while the Headmistress was tapping away at the keyboard before her. Their expressions were inscrutable. James tried to guess what they wanted with him. He could think of several possibilities—he'd been judged fit for service and would be be receiving his first assignment, he'd been judged unfit for service and would be expelled from the Institute, or maybe he'd be allowed to stay at the Institute in a training role—but he did not have enough information to make a decision. \n\nThe Headmaster slammed the file shut and looked up at James. \"James. As you know, you've finished your final evaluation trials, and I have the results here.\" He laid a hand on the closed manila folder. \"I'm sure you'll be happy to know you passed with flying colors.\" \n\n\"Thank you, sir,\" James replied. \n\n\"As such, we're now sending you out on your first assignment.\" The Headmaster nodded at the Headmistress, who tapped a key. The wall behind them lit up with information. A photograph of a young woman, as well as her name, address, and other information. James took it all in. \n\n\"Your target's Sarah Randalls, the daughter of the owner of International Oil, Blake Randalls. The client is her brother, Samuel. He wants her eliminated so that he won't have to share his inheritance with her when their father dies.\" \n\nJames peered at Sarah's picture. She was young, couldn't have been more than twenty years old. She was highly intelligent, having attended the best schools throughout her life. According to the information, she was also well protected, as the Randalls family knew their wealth would attract enemies. And, James couldn't help noticing, she was beautiful, with long blonde hair that cascaded like a waterfall down her back, and an indescribably sweet face with a smile that could melt stone. \n\nThe Headmistress cleared her throat. \"We have sent all of the intelligence we have on Miss Randalls to your computer, please look through it thoroughly, and plan your attack accordingly. You're being given full discretion for this assignment, and will be allowed to complete it however you want. Just make it clean.\" \n\nJames nodded and got to his feet. \"Thank you, Headmaster, Headmistress. I won't let you down.\" \n\nThe Headmaster waited until James had left and closed the door behind him before he turned to the Headmistress. \"You don't think we should send him on this job?\" \n\n\"Was I that obvious?\" \n\n\"No, but I have a knack for reading your reactions,\" the Headmaster replied with a hint of a smile. \n\nThe Headmistress did not smile back. \"You saw how he stared at her picture. He's developing a crush at first sight.\" \n\nThe Headmaster's smile widened, \"Crush? Why don't you call it love at first sight?\" \n\nThe Headmistress scoffed, \"Don't be silly. Love at first sight doesn't exist.\" \n\nThe Headmaster tutted disapprovingly. \"Now, come on, you know that's not true. We fell in love at first sight all those years ago, and it worked out all right for us.\" \n\n\"No,\" the Headmistress corrected him, \"You developed a crush on me at first sight, which is why you decided not to kill me. Which was lucky for you, because I could've taken you, easily. You'd be dead if you tried anything.\" \n\nThe Headmaster laughed out loud, then said, \"All right, all right, you got me. Crush first, love came later. It all worked out in the end, though, didn't it? The two of us teamed up, and we ended up killing our way to the top of the Institute, all those years ago. Now we get to train up the next generation of youngsters to do the dirty work.\" \n\n\"And just as well,\" the Headmistress smirked, poking the Headmaster in the waist, \"You can't walk ten feet these days without getting winded. Sending you out on assignment would be a disaster. You just stay home and be a good boy.\" \n\n\"Yes ma'am,\" the Headmaster said, with a mock salute. Then he glanced playfully at the Headmistress. \"But I could've taken you, you know, if I wanted to. All those years ago. On my first assignment for the Institute.\" \n\n\"No you couldn't.\" \n\n\"Yeah, you're right, no I couldn't.\" " ]	3
Wow thanks for front page, all of your stories are amazing.	[WP] One day a muggle accidentally boards the train at platform 9 3/4 and must survive Hogwarts until winter break.	[ "I was completely perplexed as to what I had just experienced. My heart appeared to have skipped a beat or two. Had I really done it? Did I just walk through the pillar at the train station? I looked around to see where I was. A sign hung up high near a gigantic red train. \"Platform 9...and 3/4???\" I said aloud. \"Yep, this is it! You found it, mate!\" A skinny red-haired boy stood in front of me, a smirk on his face. \"Uhm, h-hello. I...uh...\" I stumbled a bit, still in some shock from what just happened. \"Who's this now?\" Another red-haired boy, exactly identical to the first rounded the corner and stood beside the first, giving me a bit of a look-over. \"Dunno, the nervous little guy didn't say 'is name. Well, I'm Fred.\" He held out his right hand. \"And I'm George.\" George held out his left. I looked at them nervously and shook their hands. \"My name's Kevin.\" Letting my hands go, they both looked at each other, then back at me, and smiled. It was as if someone held a mirror next to one person and told them to glance at it quickly, they were so alike. \"You seem a bit lost there, Kev.\" George said, looking at my feet. \"Where's your trunk and your pet?\" I stared back at him, confused. \"Sorry, trunk? Pet? What d'you mean?\" Fred looked at me with a combination of astonishment and lightheartedness, and let out a bit of a laugh. \"Huh. Looks like someone forgot to give Kevin here the memo. Didn't your letter outline what you needed?\" They knew about the letter? How could they have possibly known about my court summons? And why on earth would I need a trunk full of...anything other than, and more importantly, an ANIMAL, to go to court for vandalism? \"Uh, no. The letter just said I needed to show up. It never mentioned anything about a trunk or a pet.\" \"Huh. I think something went a bit awry. No matter. It should work out one way or another once we get there.\" Fred said reassuringly. \"Yeah. We can help you out if you need. We're 5th years.\" George chimed in, giving me a comforting smile. Despite how friendly these two were, I still had absolutely no idea where I was, but apparently these two knew about the court summons so they were obviously in the know, so I chose to trust them for the time being. They must have meant 5th year law students at university. Probably went back for their PhDs. I decided it'd be best not to ask, so I wouldn't seem oblivious. \"Come on, George said, \"let's get on the train.\" I followed them over and all three of us boarded the train. This train was so well-maintained that it seemed nearly impossible to be in this perfect condition. Almost...magical, even. TBC", "She turned around quickly as her mom stormed the other way. Lana was so upset she nearly walked into a wall except...she didn't. \"Huh?\" She could have sworn she saw herself about to collide with one of the dark columns that littered the train station, but instead, she was now standing in front of a steam train, very confused. This certainly didn't look like where she had been standing only moments earlier. \"What is this place?\" As she looked around, Lana noticed that this place was odd to the say the least. Dozens of people dressed in long black robes were scurrying about. They wore pointy hats, and pulled big trunks and cages with all sorts of owls. This immediately peaked Lana's interest more than the people in costumes. She had always been wildly interested in the owl's mystic folklore. She glimpsed a particularly beautiful owl, snowy white and hooting softly. She decided she would follow it, being extremely careful not to look like a creep. This would be very difficult considering she was the only one dressed in jeans and a tshirt. Lucky for her, everyone around her seemed to be in their own little world. She would soon find out how true that was. \n She followed the white owl through the crowd and finally managed to catch a glimpse of the boy that was pulling it. He looked to be a bit older than her and wore round-framed glasses. His hair was a bit disheveled. He walked towards a family of people with the brightest red hair she had ever seen. Lana followed them discreetly. She approached the enormous red steam train close behind them, hoping to find a cabin close enough for her to see the snowy owl up close. She sat in a cabin across the group of friends. She now knew they were named Harry, Ron, and Hermione. She was an expert eavesdropper. Unfortunately for her, they closed the doors to their compartment and she remained in hers. Next to her sat a boy with big teeth holding a toad in his lap. When he noticed her staring at the toad with disgust, he said \"His name is Trevor. I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom.\" Lana smiled back nervously, trying desperately to hide the fact that she did not belong there. \"I'm Lana,\" she responded. \"Is this your first year?\" he asked. \"Yeah,\" she replied hurriedly. She wanted to make the least amount of conversation possible. Curious as she was to explore this whole new place, she was scared to be discovered. She had a very strong feeling that these people were different than her, although she couldn't help but feel as if she was already a part of this peculiar place.", "My pockets rattled from the few coins that I had slipped in them. I held my hand over them to try to quiet the noise but I had grabbed too many, I hadn't known how many I'd need when I grabbed them from my mothers coin purse. I held my head down and held back a whimper. Running away sounded like a good idea at the time, but now I have no where to go.\n\nI meandered around the platforms trying to pick a train. Kings Cross was cleaner than I had expected, but it was still a little muggy, large stone columns announced the platforms. It was crowded, there were people everywhere including what seemed to be a lot of kids and teenagers dressed in strange clothing pushing around carts, was there a convention going on? In July? \n\nBerwick? Doncaster? Edinburgh? I couldn't decide where to go, at one point one of these strange people, a woman in a pointy hat, had come up to me and asked if I was alright, she was worried that my eyes were red, I just shook my head and nodded trying to wipe away the tears, she'd just take me back to those monsters (my parents).\n\nI stand at platform three, I had decided to take the train to Cambridge, when I look over and across the room I can see my mother and standing next to her my stepdad, and she sees me.\n\n\"Gi...\" She shouts, but I've already bolted before I can hear her say the rest of my name. I weave in between people and columns hoping to lose myself in the crowd and it worked... Too well, now I was pretty certain that even I was lost, but before I could get my bearings (I loved using long words, my Dad said that one day it'd make me an author) I had to check to see if they had followed me, I swing around the column just before platform ten...\n\"Ahhh,\" I scream as I fall on my arse, I could have sworn there was a column there. \n\nI look up, above me a sign reads \"platform 9 and 3/4,\" I turn my head to see that I'm not where I was before, wall to wall (even the floors!) the platform was coated in red brick, a stark contrast to the white stone of Kings Cross, but I was still in kings cross, or at least I should be right? Around me were kids and teenagers in robes and even adults, they walked comfortably around me unaware of how absurd they looked, but the subject of the room, a grand red train stood before me. I stood up. But it looked different than the other trains at kings cross, it looked... older, more like a train in my model set? On its side read \"Hogwarts Express\" The trains whistle blew and a worried looking adult ushered me on board.\n\n\"You don't want to miss school now do ya?\" I didn't complain as I needed so where to go.\n\nThe compartments bustled with students shifting to and fro, shuffling across the red carpet, the walls were covered in an ornately decorated dark wood. I looked in on each compartments window, students were either chatting or staring back at me waiting for others to board their compartments. A few of them even carried pets. Could owls even be pets? What kind of train is this? I heard odd words like quiditch and \"accio?\" Immediately after the latter I could have sworn that I saw a small parcel fly past me, someone must have thrown it.\n\nSoon I find a compartment that doesn't seem to be full of weirdos, in it are people dressed like me, in fact they're kids my age! I slide in past the door and slide it shut, the room becomes dead silent. Awkwardly I sit down across from a girl and a boy, and another boy next to me. The girl has long frizzy hair, and dark skin, she wears a white floral print dress, black flats and blue knitted socks awkwardly pulled up to her knees. The boy next to her was of light skin and had shaggy blond hair, he wears a striped red shirt, white sneakers with a blue trim and jeans. He looks excitedly at the views out of his window. It's the strange red platform and a bunch of adults hurrying about, I'm definitely not in Kings Cross anymore. The boy next to me is pudgy and he has short buzzed brown hair, his cheeks look as though they are trying to squeeze his mouth directly off of his face, he wears a plaid button up worn open over a grey T-shirt, jeans and grey tennis shoes, he stares in nervous awe at a sleek polished stick in his hands, this wasn't any ordinary stick, it looked as though it had been crafted in a shop, but what was it for?\n\n\n\"Hi I'm Kelly, are you a first year?\" The girl smiles cheerily at me.\n\n\"Uh... Uh what?\" I respond awkwardly?\n\n\"A first year, are you new to Hogwarts, how old are you?\" She responds eagerly. I recognized the name on the side of the train.\n\n\"Erm, yeah, I guess, I'm eleven.\" I answer.\n\n\"Then yep, you're definitely a first year,\" she giggles.\n\n\"So what exactly is Hogwarts?\" I ask, the pudgy boy pulls his eyes away from his stick, painfully so giving me a distracted but queer look, and so follows the other boy who was starring out the window he looks down his nose at me obviously puzzled. The girl smiles ever cheerfully.\n\n\"A school silly, you didn't know that getting on?\" She asks\n\nRealizing my mistake, I didn't want to get thrown off, I respond, \"erm, no, I did.\"\n\n\"Alright,\" the girl laughs, \"so what's you're name?\" The train jerks forward, it starts to pull out of the station. I guess it's too late to get off now.\n\n\"Um, people call me Locke.\" I answer.\n\nThe boy chimes in now, \"Hi Locke, I'm Matt.\" He has an accent, I think it's American, he extends his hand and I go ahead and shake it.\n\nSuddenly feeling pressured to do so, the pudgy boy awkwardly pushes out \"I'm Jeremy, but people call me Joe.\" He sets down his stick seemingly forgetting it and extends a hand, I shake his as well not understanding the connection between Jeremy and Joe.\n\n\"You're American?\" I ask Matt.\n\n\"Yeah,\" he responds,\" my mom and I moved here after the divorce, she said she always wanted to live in England and what better time than then, I love it here so far. It really freaked her out when she found out I was a wizard,\" He laughed. I didn't want to be rude, so I didn't ask what he meant by 'wizard.'\n\n\"We're all first years too,\" the girl follows.\n\nTo be continued...", "The boy arrived bewildered and alive.\n\nThe strange sights on the train\n\nhad truly perplexed his brain.\n\nHe had easily fooled his teachers and outsmarted his peers,\n\nwho were so often distracted by Quidditch and Butter beer.\n\nOnce October ended the leaves of the fall came and went\n\nHe finally received a reply from the letter he had sent.\n\nAs he decoded the message attached to the crate\n\nhe began to understand the hand dealt was not by fate.\n\n\"I hope this letter finds you doing well,\n\nI have sent you some items to help you excel.\n\nBoarding that train was no accident,\n\nI sent you to Hogwarts with a clear intent.\n\nLearn their secrets, gather as much intel as you can.\n\nOnce you return you will understand.\n\nRemember your training and try not go insane.\n\nI'm counting on you Tim,\n\nTake care\n\n-Bruce Wayne.\" \n", "Entry 1:\n\nI'm not really sure where to begin.\n\nMaybe there's a spell or a potion that'll clear my head.\n\nWhat the hell am I talking about I can't make spells why can everyone do spells for fucks sake!\n\nThey have fucking elves in here AND a fucking twelve foot troll somewhere in the dungeons or something, one of the teachers went apeshit over it. I tell you this whole place is unhinged. \n\nI mean you'd think I was the unhinged one I did get hit in the head, wasn't my fault though this kid little about my age came barreling into me at Kings Cross. I must have knocked him for six, poor guy. Mind you he probably would have come off worse if he had carried on the way he was go -\n\nSeamus just came over, had to scrunch the parchment, I can still make out most of the words, he's telling me to come to Transfiguration, It was my first lesson just a day after I came to this place, improvisation was to become a frequently used skill.\n\nLuckily I'd clocked that everyone seemed to be carrying these sticks around, not like magic wands, with the white tip and that but just basically twigs so I blitzed it down to the grounds and picked up the first twig I could find, everyone took the piss about mine being so long that it drooped, I've been filing it down a bit every night since, its down to about 20 inches and the leaves don't poke my eye as much now which is good. \n\nShit, late for class, time for Timmy the cockerel to shine in case ~~Mcgonagel~~ \n \n ~~Mcgonnagell?~~ \n\nIn case she gets suspicious.", "He had to be the biggest man I had ever seen in my life - he towered over everyone in the station by at least a head. It seemed only natural that I should follow him and his companion, an undersized boy in oversized clothes and (judging from the state of his hair) rather poor personal hygiene. The boy was about my age, and ALWAYS asking questions about something named \"Hogwarts\". The giant, whom the boy called Hagrid, seemed distracted and wasn't really giving answers, which I found upsetting because I was curious, too.\n\nI was following them at an unassuming distance, the way I do a mark when I'm looking to steal a purse. This time, however, was different: the boy didn't seem to have anything worthwhile, and I had no desire to rummage in the giant's coat (earlier I had seen him pull out several LIVE mice, teeth from some carnivore, and what looked like the pelt of a mole). Suddenly, Hagrid stopped and checked a pocket watch, produced from who knows where on his person.\n\n\"Blimey, is that the time?\" \n\nHe made the necessary apologies and handed a ticket to the boy (who was named Harry - nasty, common name, if you ask me), informing him that his train was leaving in 10 minutes. I sidled closer to make out the ticket, and had the same thought that Harry vocalized to the empty space Hagrid had just vacated.\n\n\"Platform 3/4? But Hagrid, there must be a mistake. This says Platform 9 3/4. There's no such thing, is there?\"\n\nNormally, at this point, I would have lost interest. But normally you don't find a golden opportunity like this - a young boy left alone with a full set of clothing, some of which HAD to fit me (my shoes were getting a little worn), a smattering of personal belongings, and above all, no idea as to where he was going. Now I just needed him to get away from the crowds.\n\n_____________________________________________________________________________________________\n\nI'll give the kid credit - he was by no means dumb. As soon as he set off on his wild goose chase, he went straight for Platform 9 and asked the station manager there how he could get to his train. In a thronging mass of people, as well as with a bobby watching him to make sure he wasn't troublesome, there was nothing I could do except follow and wait for an opportunity. Surely, he had to give up at somepoi-\n\n\"Platform 9 3/4, this way!\" \n\nI just about doubled over in shock. A dumpy woman leading a flock of little gingers was going to lead my target right to his little fantasy destination, and I could only watch. He made a beeline for her, and they had a brief exchange in which she kept pointing at the pillar between Platforms 9 and 10. Then she began conducting the younger gingers, sending them one by one running at the wall she had indicated previously.\n\nEach time, instead of wiping out spectacularly, they just... disappeared. Then Harry started to run, and I was galvanized into action. As soon as the redheaded tribe had passed through, I followed them. It was like running through a tunnel, longer than the pillar would have allowed.\n\nThen, I broke through the other side into daylight and the hustle and bustle of hundreds of children and their oddly-dressed parents saying goodbyes and getting on the train. I couldn't see Harry, but that didn't matter in the slightest. I had a new directive - get on this train and take whatever I wanted, bits and bobs from a hundred students who would likely think they were forgotten at home. For the first time in my life, I was going to be rich.\n\n_____________________________________________________________________________________________\n\nGetting on the train was easy. Nobody took a second look at a boy who looked about average in the rest of the crowd. I even found a compartment mostly to myself. There was only a fattish, ugly boy sleeping, and a toad sitting next to him on the seat. I picked up the toad and tossed it into the hall, making it someone else's problem.\n\nThe sleeping boy didn't wake up, and that was fine by me. I was trying to pick the lock on his trunk, and surprisingly it was proving difficult. Suddenly, I was interrupted by a girl with brown, frizzy hair. Instead of showing my shock, however, I put on a face of frustration. \n\n\"I just can't get this bloody lock to ope- Oh! Hello! What's your name?\"\n\nFrizzy Miss Pretty Girl introduced herself as Hermione. Before she asked who I was (I hadn't decided yet), I indicated the lock on the trunk.\n\n\"D'ya think you can help me?\"\n\n\"I mean, I've only tried a few simple spells myself, but... Alohomora!\" She brandished a stick as she spoke.\n\nThe locked clicked and the trunk popped open, flapping loosely like my jaw. \n\n\"I expect you'll want to change into your robes. We'll be arriving soon.\"\n\nI could only nod as I picked out a set of black robes from the trunk and scooted by her to head down to the lavatory. She went to wake up the now drooling boy and inform him of the same.\n\nIn the lavatory, I could only come up with one explanation for what I had seen, as I changed. Magic exists. Magic like wizards with silly hats and sticks and spells of power. I had to know more. Imagine what I could do with the power she just showed me - no more locked doors, or safes, or anything! Heck, there was probably a way to just summon whatever I wanted right to myself. I could do anything!\n\nMy new-found fantasized glory was rudely interrupted as a boy pushed his way through the lavatory door. He was smaller than me, and seemed to hunch up as he saw me in the room. Not the type to be memorable, not the type to make friends in such a short time. Perfect.\n\n\"Oh, sorry, I should have knocked. I'm so sorry, I'll get out right away. Please, I'll just use the other one, it's no trouble.\"\n\n\"Don't worry about it, I was just leaving. Say, what's your name?\"\n\n\"B-b-Blaise. Blaise Zabini. First year.\"\n\n\"And how do you spell that?\"\n\n\"Oh, uhm... B-L-A-I-S-E space Z-A-B-I-N-I.\"\n\nPoor kid, he didn't even see the right hook coming. Laid out on the floor, he looked much smaller. I pushed his inert form into the lavatory and locked the door from the inside. I had found my identity.\n\n_____________________________________________________________________________________________\n\nDisembarking the train was easy. I just moved with the group of kids my age, all of whom were congregating around Hagrid, who was calling for the first-years. We made our way up to the school in these little boats, and everyone was oohing and ahhing at the castle. I was more preoccupied with the oily-haired boy beside me.\n\n\"I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. My dad basically owns this school, you know? I'm going to be in Slytherin, and if that stupid hat says otherwise then my dad will have a word with the headmaster.\"\n\nA vile, pompous boy, but you could tell from the look of him that he was accustomed to being rich. I was accustomed to stealing from people like him.\n\nWhen we reached the castle, a stern woman told us some rules or some-such. I didn't really care, I was planning on how I was going to play this out. We moved as a group through the main feasting hall (they had feasts here!) and approached a stool with a hat on it. It sang a song, we all clapped, and then we were called up alphabetically. Odd stuff, magic.\n\nThe hat called out these words that apparently corresponded to the tables in the room. Each kid got assigned a group and then sat there. Rich boy Malfoy was a Slither-in. That first boy, Harry, and all of the gingers, were Griffin-doors. I wished that I hadn't chosen to be Zabini. At the end, I was the only one standing up there.\n\nBlaise was called and I sat on the stool. The hat went on my head, and then it was speaking to me inside my mind.\n\n\"Ohohoho, and I thought the Potter boy was interesting! Normally I'm supposed to report kids like you, but... I like where your head's at. Get it? Your head? I'm a hat, you see, and - Oh, never mind. We can talk later, you and I. For now, mmmm, yes.... Slytherin!\"\n\nI jumped off the stool and fairly sprinted to the table indicated. Looking around, though, at all of the people clapping, I grew less terrified at what the hat had said. Sitting next to Draco, I shared a smirk.\n\nThis was going to be an interesting year.\n\nEDIT: Whoops, formatting.", "Part 1: The Train, the Hat, and the Wizards\n\nTrains are interesting.\n\nI could tell you every thing about every train that comes to King's Cross. I know their history, their structure, their routes.\n\nI'm an anorak, a note taker and detail spotter. A nerd. And I'm proud of that.\n\nSo, when I decided to eat my packed lunch and leaned against a wall...\n\nI didn't expect to see the most gorgeous steam train I had ever seen in my life.\n\nWhen I saw the manufacturing number, and its stark red design, I gasped.\n\nThis was the fabled Missing Train of 1849! A train that mysteriously vanished the year it was built, and everyone who worked on it couldn't remember it existed!\n\nBut evidence was out there: steel was purchased for it, wages were paid for the hours spent welding bits...\n\nBut how was it here?\n\nAs I started to do an etching onto my notebook, I got the sense something wasn't right.\n\nI looked around.\n\nChildren about with sticks and odd clothes, load of manky old birds in cages, a ratty looking thing with pointy ears holding its hands up against the pillar I came in by.\n\nI shrugged at the irrelevant silly nonsense of non-train related things and got on the famous legend of a train.\n\nIt was when I noticed the inside was impossibly bigger than it actually could be based on its design specifications and external appearence that I decided to hide in a toilet and fret about the top secret insanity I was riding on.\n\nWhen we arrived at our destination (my packed lunch of Freddos, jelly babies, and a pasty keeping me going), a gigantic brute of a man dragged me out from the porcelain throne and roughly put me in a robe to join the other children.\n\nIs this a cult? A secret train stealing cult? With mind powers? Or drugs?\n\nThey stuck us on a load of boats and took us across a lake.\n\nI hate boats.\n\nWhen we got to a rather grubby looking ruin, we were lead up some mossy stairs to a sopping wet room full of rotten tables, where a load of children sat.\n\nWe were each called up by name to sit on a old stool and wear a hat for a bit before sitting with the other cultists.\n\nEventually, after an hour, I was the only one left.\n\n\"And who are you?\" said the white bearded man.\n\n\"David Cuel, sir.\"\n\n\"Did you recieve a letter to come to Hogwarts?\"\n\n\"Ah, so that's why it's called the Hogwarts express. But no, sir. I just got on the train and came with the other kids.\"\n\nA loud crash punctuated my statement, and the black robed cultist nodded at the others and left the room.\n\n\"Very well. Put on the Hat, David.\"\n\nI put on the hat.\n\nA Muggle, eh? A courageous spirit, but with your trainspotting, you'd better be a...\n\nRAVENCLAW\n\n\"What's a Ravenclaw?\"\n\n\"Just sit at the table with the raven design tablecloth.\" said a Scottish woman.\n\n\"What tablecloth? That table's bare and rotten. I can see the maggots!\"\n\nA few gasps came about the room.\n\n\nThen laughter.\n\n\"A Muggle in Hogwarts! What new kind of bullshi-\"\n\n\"Mud-blood!\"\n\n\"Squib!\"\n\n\"Woo Cuel! You tell them ratty birds!\"\n\nThe white bearded man just shouted.\n\n\"SILENCE! If David can enter Hogwarts and be sorted, then he is a student of Hogwarts!\"\n\nSo this is some kind of cultist school then?\n", "I was on the train with some very oddly dressed people. I don't think it was the one I was meant to be on. I was wanting to go to Oxford.\n\nI don't think this is Oxford. After the train had run out of track, and the oddly dressed teenagers had departed and vanished, I was left in a bit of a predicament.\n\nDid I mention they vanished? They VANISHED. Into THIN AIR. Some bog and trees beyond it gives me a headache just to look at, but no school. No summer camp or field trip building. Just bog.\n\nBut that's not even the strangest thing. When I set up my tent by one of the trees, settling in for however long until that train was due back, I got hit in the head by a flying apple. Then two. I looked at where they had come from, and a trail of food on ornate plates and goblets of juice led me to the edge of the bog. \n\nAfter I had eaten everything, and not died from any of it, I sat at the edge of the bog, calling into it. \n\nThen there was a shape, a stick tapped me on the head, and then I was in Oxford with much more worn through shoes and no idea how I had got there. \n\nI think I walked. I feel thinner.", "Robin couldn't really tell how it had happened. One minute she was leaning against a brick wall which separated platforms nine and ten, playing Angry Birds and waiting for the 10:50 to Manchester. On her back she had an enormous backpack, charms hanging from the zips. (Her favourite one was the ginger cat mum had got her after the divorce) Anyway, she had been leaning against this wall and waiting for the train, when she'd felt herself falling backwards. It was as though she'd been yanked away, and Robin tumbled through what had been a solid brick wall only moments before. \n\n\nShe landed on her arse; the huge backpack doing very little to cushion her fall. The phone skittered out of her hands and went flying across the platform. \n\n\n\n\"No!\" Mum's boyfriend had only just got that for her. He'd be livid if she lost it. Robin scrambled to her feet and dashed after it. It was then she realised that the train waiting at the platform was not the Virgin Pendolino service to Manchester she'd been expecting (and for which she had a ticket firmly wedged in the back pocket of her jeans) It was a huge, red old fashioned steam engine; smoke billowing from its double chimneys. Robin had seen one like it at the Coventry Transport museum, but not in this colour, and not with the golden lettering on the side, which read (and Robin had to check she was reading it correctly) Hogwarts Express\n\n\n\n\"Is this yours?\" Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle voice. A hand was placed on her arm and she looked up to find a kind-looking man, dressed in a Halloween Costume. He was holding out Robin's phone. \n\n\n\"Er, yes... It is, thank you,\" she took it off him and noted to her disappointment that the screen was cracked. Mum's boyfriend would kill her. \n\n\n\"Are your parents around?\" The man asked her. His costume really was strange. He was wearing what seemed to be a long black cloak, and when he moved the lining was revealed to be a deep, rich green. Underneath that he wore an old-fashioned double breasted suit, a white pocket square peeping out of the top of the perfectly crisp breast pocket. \n\n\n\"No,\" Robin said, perfectly honestly. \"My mum's in Tottenham, and I'm going up to visit my Dad in Manchester. They're not together any more.\" \n\n\n\"I'm sorry to hear that,\" he replied. \"It's a shame they couldn't come and see you off. Would you like me to help you with your trunk?\" \n\n\n\n\"Oh, I've only got this,\" Robin turned around to display the huge rucksack. She had in it all the clothes she would need for a two week long visit up to her dad before term started at her new school in Tottenham. \n\n\n\n\"Gosh! You pack light! Well, let me help you find a seat on the train. I hate to see first years all by themselves,\" the man said. \n\n\n\n\"How did you know I was a first year?\" Robin asked, as the man opened a door to a carriage on the red train. She was a little excited, if scared: she knew it wasn't the train to Manchester, but she wanted to know where it went. \n\n\n\nAs they walked the corridor of the train, Robin only became more intrigued. Everyone older than her age seemed to be wearing black robes. People were pushing past her, dipping into compartments and shouting hellos at their friends. The whole train was a cacophony of noise: not only the shouting, but Robin swore she could hear the yowling of confined cats, and a couple of times she spotted white and brown owls peering out from behind their bars. \n\n\n\n\"I'll leave you in Sylvia's care,\" the man said, gesturing to an older girl. She had long blonde hair, braided into a plait, and she also wore black robes. She had a blue badge pinned on her chest and she seemed to swell with pride as the older man introduced her. \"Found her on the platform,\" the man said to Sylvia. \"I think she's a first year.\" \n\n\n\n\"I am,\" Robin told Sylvia, hoping the other girl wouldn't notice how nervous she was. \n\n\n\n\"Well, welcome to the Hogwarts Express,\" the girl replied. She smiled, revealing a couple of crooked teeth. \"I'm Sylvia Canterthrush, Ravenclaw prefect. Shall we see if we can find you a compartment, and some other first years?\" \n\n\n\nHer trunk stowed, a bag of sweets (even if they were oddly named, and she didn't recognise any of them) in her hand, and Robin leant back in the plush seats of the Hogwarts express with three other first years that Sylvia had introduced her to. There was Jonathan De Silva: a quiet, pale boy with high cheekbones and black hair, Lavinia McGovern; who was tiny and giggly and blonde, and Lionel Gardener, who told Robin he was 'also a muggleborn' and had a bright spark in his eye that indicated a trickster. \n\n\n\nRobin laughed and joked with the other eleven year olds, and made a pact with herself. She'd make it until Christmas, she decided. Her mum would assume she was at her dad's, and her dad would assume she'd gone back to Tottenham. Neither spoke to the other if they could help it. But, and judging by the others, she'd have to do a lot of faking to fit in. Robin was going to have to get herself a wand.\n", "This story now has an official subreddit at /r/magicmuggle\n\n\"How much longer, mum?\" \n\n\"For the fifth time, Matthew, it arrives at nine.\"\n\nI looked at the clock. Eighty fourty-nine. Why did mum always make us arrive early? We'd arrived on Platform Nine at King's Cross Station ten minutes ago, it it was another ten before the train arrived. Twenty minutes, standing in this boring station, by this boring column.\n\nTiredly, I leaned against column separating Platforms Nine and Ten-\n\nand fell-\n\nand tumbled out onto solid ground. What the hell?\n\nI got back to my feet and looked around. There was an old fashioned steam train on the tracks, that hadn't been there one minute ago. It was painted red, and the words 'Hogwarts Express' were emblazoned on it's side. The platform, previously fairly empty, was now full of people in funny clothes, with carts of luggage and pet owls. \n\nI turned around, but my mum was gone. I pressed my hand against the column, but it stayed solid. I pressed again, then shoved my weight against it, to no avail. The other side gave the same result when I ran around and tested that, too. \n\nI was stuck here. \n\nA few minutes later, a concerned adult ushered me onto the train. Their hat was pointed, like a wizard's hat from a storybook, and I was too confused and lost to explain my predicament. Onto the train I went, and I found an empty compartment. I sat down, and put my head into my hands. \n\nAnother person entered the compartment, shortly after the train left the station. A blond boy, similar in age to me, perhaps a little older. He was wearing unusual clothes, like many of the people here were. He sat down and greeted me.\n\n\"Hello.\"\n\n\"Hi,\" I said, then decided to ask some questions, \"Do you- Do you know where this train goes?\"\n\nHe gave me a funny look, raising his manicured eyebrows.\n\n\"To Hogwarts,\" he said, confusion in his tone.\n\nI cursed at myself for asking such a dumb question. That'd give away that I didn't belong here, and then I'd be kicked off the train, in the middle of nowhere, on my own...\n\n\"Obviously,\" I lied, \"But, like, is there a station right there or is it, like, nearby?\"\n\n\"It's in Hogsmeade,\" he said, \"You're not a mudblood, are you?\"\n\nThe way he spat the word 'mudblood' made it clear that it wasn't a good thing.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Well that's good. My dad's always saying how mudbloods are ruining things for us purebloods.\"\n\nI nodded like I knew what that meant. \n\n\"Damn mudbloods.\"\n\nHe nodded in agreement. There was silence for a while, before I asked another question.\n\n\"What's your name?\"\n\n\"Malfoy,\" he said proudly, \"Draco Malfoy.\"\n\n\"I'm Matthew Mason.\"\n\n\"Mason? I don't think I've heard of your family...\"\n\n\"We keep to ourselves.\"\n\n---\n\nOver the rest of the train ride, I managed to work out that Hogwarts was a school. He claimed it taught magic, which I thought was cool. I'd always loved magic tricks - bunny out of a hat, card tricks, stuff like that - and a magic set was top of my Christmas list. I didn't tell him that, though. I met his friends Crabbe and Goyle, huge boys with thick arms and beady little eyes. Everyone changed into school uniform - a weird black dress over a more normal uniform - at one point, and Draco sighed at me 'forgetting' mine. He gave me a spare set.\n\nUpon leaving the train, I immediately noticed a huge man with wild hair shouting \"firs' years, this way\". Draco elbowed me and gestured over that way. He was a second year, so we parted ways. I walked over, and the giant led a crowd of kids my age onto boats. I ended up on a boat with a redhead girl, a strange blonde girl and a chatty brown-haired boy with a camera.\n\nThe boat sailed on it's own - weird, for a rowboat - and a massive castle came into view. I knew it must be Hogwarts. It was an impressive sight, towering into the air, it's lights like a swarm of fireflies stuck to the shadowy outline of the building. I wasn't the only one saying \"wow\".\n \nWe were led into the castle, and we queued outside some giant double doors, ready for the sorting. Draco mentioned houses - Slytherin for the best, Gryffindor for the brave but foolish, Ravenclaw for the nerds, and Hufflepuff for the dumb.\n\nWe went through into the room, and I realised when Draco said magic, he didn't mean tricks. The ceiling was open, showing a beautiful, starry night. Candles floated throughout the air, the wax dripping and dissolving before reaching the four long tables full of students. \n\nOne by one, everyone was called up for their sorting. It wasn't a battle with a troll. It wasn't a magic casting test. It was a mangy old hat, that shouted out which house you belonged in. The camera boy from the boat, Colin Creevey, went to Gryffindor. The weird blonde girl, Luna Lovegood, ended up in Ravenclaw. And then it was my turn.\n\nI didn't question why I was on the register. I just thanked god for that stroke of luck.\n\n'My my,\" the hat said into my head, 'interesting. You didn't get your letter, but here you are. Go and speak to Dumbledore after the feast. He's the headmaster. Now, as for your house-'\n\n\"GRYFFINDOR!\"\n\nAs I got up to walk to the table full of cheering wizards and witches, I saw Draco looking at me with dissapointment from the Slytherin table.\n\nI sat down next to Colin Creevey. The rest of the sorting went by quickly. The redhead girl from the boat, Ginny Weasley, was sorted into Gryffindor. \n\nThere was then a feast, which I wasn't able to enjoy. I was too busy trying to work out what was going on. Things had been confusing enough on the train, but they just kept getting more and more confusing. Just as distracting was how worried Ginny and her brothers were - apparently one of Ginny's brothers had gone missing, as well as his friend Harry Potter. \n\nAfter the feast, we were led towards the Gryffindor dorms. When I saw an opportunity, I slipped away and started looking for Dumbledore.\n\nThe castle was insane. The staircases shifted at random, ghosts drifted through the air, and the portraits hung on the walls talked to each other and moved around. It was everything you'd imagine from a castle in a storybook, and then some. I asked one of the portraits - Sir Cadogan, apparently - where Dumbeldore was, and he led me through the castle, on what he called a 'brave quest'.\n\nHe stopped by a gargoyle, panting. Could paintings get out of breath? Apparently so.\n\nA minute later, Dumbledore arrived. He was an old wizard, and he looked the part, in flowing purple robes, a pointed hat, and a long, silver beard. He looked at me with curiosity through his half-moon spectacles. He was carrying the sorting hat.\n\n\"Mr Dumbledore, sir?\" I said.\n\n\"Ah, you must be the one the hat was telling me about,\" Dumbledore said.\n\nThe hat confirmed his suspicions, and Dumbledore led me into his office, a circular room full of curious devices. \n\n\"You are not a wizard,\" Dumbledore said, \"But neither are you a muggle.\"\n\nHe picked up a glass sphere, half full with black liquid. At his touch, it turned blue and started bubbling. He passed it to me, and the liquid turned gold and went choppy, like the sea in a storm. \n\n\"I'm afraid that you won't be returning home,\" said Dumbledore.\n\n\"Why?\" I asked.\n\nA pained expression crossed the old wizard's face.\n\n\"That, I cannot say.\"\n\nHe passed me a wand from a drawer on his desk. Unlike the others wands I'd briefly glimpsed, this one was embedded with tiny spheres, like the one I had held. \n\n\"This wand will draw on your energy,\" he explained, \"You can use it for basic spellwork.\"\n\n\"I thought you said I'm not a wizard.\"\n\n\"You aren't. You are something different, and there are many out there who would take you, and study you. For your safety, you must use this wand. Pretend to be a wizard. I'll have your school supplies ordered for tomorrow morning. Now, return to your housemates.\"\n\nSir Cadogan was waiting outside of Dumbledore's office. Once again, I asked for his help, and once again, he led me on a noble quest across the castle. My wand was in my pocket, and so was my hand. When I touched the wand, the spheres lit up, and I felt power surge through my arm. It was an addictive feeling, and I wondered if drug addicts felt a similar thing when they took drugs. If they did, I couldn't blame them.\n\nSir Cadogan stopped, out of breath again, in a portrait with an overweight woman. He spoke to her in hushed tones, and the portrait swung open, revealing a room beyond it. The Gryffindor common room. There was a crackling fireplaces at one end of the room, and chairs, sofas and tables filled the rest. It looked like a really warm, cozy place. It was empty except for an older student, with a shiny red badge saying 'prefect'.\n\n\"There you are!\" he said, walking over to me, \"Where have you been?\"\n\n\"I had to talk to Dumbledore,\" I said.\n\nHe didn't look convinced, but he decided to let it go.\n\n\"Well, get to your dormitory. Stairs on the left, first door you reach.\"\n\nI headed up. \n\n---\n\n[Continuation](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3ituzr/wp_one_day_a_muggle_accidentally_boards_the_train/cujzsgd)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	10
	[WP] I have an obsession with feeling fear. Terrify me.	[ "The apocalypse has come. The dead are walking the streets. People are being eaten by their own loved ones. A wise man once said \"Death is but a door.\" That saying is no longer true. If Hell is real, then we have surely found it. As I watch the creatures devour my flesh, I wished to be free from this Hell on Earth. My eyes began to close and I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I drifted into the night. I awoke. I realized it must have been a dream. Until I realized I was no longer in control of myself. I was one of them.", "So this one wants fear? Alright, I'll oblige. But let's not talk about some fairy tale, some story made to scare people at night. Let's talk about the truth. Let's answer all of those nagging questions inside your little head, and make you realize that you wish those questions had never been answered.\n\nLet's talk about the afterlife. Did you know that most religions only have part of the truth? Can you go to heaven, valhalla, etc.? Sure... if you're lucky, and someone upstairs likes you. The rest of the time you simply stop exitsing. That which makes up your soul simply disintegrates into tiny little pieces, and goes and makes up something else. Could be another person, could be a bug, hell, you could be the stalk of corn that your son eats on his wedding day! Because in the end, we are all made up of the same bits and pieces, like sand on a beach.\n\nLet's talk those gods I mentioned. Did you know the Christian god, the omnipotent being everyone keeps ranting about, is dead? Yeah, since he decided to pull the Egyptian slaves out to make their own country, the Egyptian gods just killed him for screwing over their followers. And yet somehow the religion keeps going on. So let's ask a question: who's been pulling the strings this whole time? Who have the Christians been praying to this whole time? \n\nLet's ask another question: why are we here? What grand purpose do we serve? The answer is far more mundane than we thought. The truth is, we are just entertainment. One day, some god, or a bunch of gods, we're bored, so they made us. Not to spread their good word, not to conquer the universe, but so they could have the best slice of life comedy ever made. And everyone has the wonderful role of an extra.\n\nSince we're talking about humans, let's talk about things that aren't human. Let's talk about mermaids, and vampires, and werewolves, wendigos, and the like. They are very real. Unfortunately, due to generations of interbreeding, you'd never know. Maybe someone has a bit of a wild personality, or a slight affinity for blood. Maybe someone is more at home in the water. That's about it these days. Sorry, Scifi fans, but reality sucks. But the more wild creatures, the real monsters, they are still around. You know, the mysterious disappearances, the horrible mangled bodies found in remote places, that's them. So I wouldn't suggest and hiking trips.\n\nDid you know all those mythical creatures are real as well? Dragons? Real. Elves? Real. Faerys? Real. They just don't live here anymore. They left this world long ago. For the simple reason that this world isn't worth living in anymore. So we get to squirm around in a dying world, that others simply opted to leave. Enjoy your trashheap.\n\nLet's talk about ghosts and stuff. Pretty much every home in the world is haunted. Every street, evert city, every museum. There are spirits everywhere. Most leave you alone, or just watch out of boredom. But others like to go into people and mess with stuff inside. Why, you ask? Simply because there's not a damn thing you can do to stop them. Don't believe me? Think of all those times you had a random headache, an unexplained sensation on your body, hearing someone when there's no one there. That's them, everytime. If you're lucky, it's not something strong, like a demon. Because there's not a damn thing you can do to stop them.\n\nSo there's a few truths of the world for ya. Life sucks, kid, and the best thing you can do is survive long enough that you don't even care anymore. Welcome to my hell.\n\nEdit: oh by the way, since you know all of this now, you've been marked. Good luck.\n\n\n\n\n", "When I was a child I was afraid of the dark and ghosts and aliens. I was scared of the Devil and I was scared of going to Hell. I look back on that naive, indoctrinated time with longing, occasionally. There is nothing in the imagination that compares to reality.\n\nThe self-knowledge of quivering protoplasmic flesh is a terror unto itself. I can look at my hands and see their substance but know that it is made up of tiny components that are unremarkable when removed from their current arrangement. In fact, I constantly shed pieces of \"myself\" which rot away into some of those components. Indeed, at least four times during the continuity called my life, everything that made up \"me\" has been replaced. I am an inferior copy of the original and the original could be said to be already dead. We collectively refer to this usurpation as \"aging.\" To be alive is to be dying. To experience time is to rot.\n\nFurthermore, I know that what I might have called \"free will\" in the past is not free or, at the most, only flexible. All things are determined by Cause and Effect. Those are my gods, dumb and deaf. A cause can only have specific effects. A dust mote can not extinguish a star. My reactions can not reach beyond their causes. The nature of being is slavery to Cause. \"Free will\" is only the ignorance of that temporal truth. Everything that I am has been blindly determined since the beginning of time.\n\nThese frightful truths pale to the fact that I must continue to bear witness to and participate in the savagery of predation that makes up all of the life on this world or cease to be. There is no life without the consumption of life. We are all killers in the meanest sense. Every breath ends the life of something else. Every swallow destroys countless organisms. All things animal, plant, and fungi survive on the breakdown of the dead. We live in the seemingly endless (but one day it will end, mercifully) churning of the great stomach we think of as home.\n\nOn another layer, I can ignore that because it is in our nature to do so. What I can not ignore is that I love other beings in this nightmare pit of digestion. They will die before me and I must watch them go and cease to \"be.\" They will never be again. They do not live in my memory. In fact, those memories are only memories of already deteriorated memories. As each copy is made, corruption sets in. There is no surety of true remembrance. Love is my greatest fear. I laugh at spirits and ghouls and monsters. Love is the greatest horror in this universe. A vicious chemical stew that bathes the screaming neurons in my brain in flesh rending trepidation. Love is the accidental spear in my side. Love is what I fear most of all.\n\n", "They called her the 200 year old miracle, and she was living proof that God existed.\n\nAfter she was revealed to the world she was moved between cathedrals, never spending too long in any one place. The same pattern was always followed. She would be positioned in a small room on a pile of pillows and blankets. The room would always be dimly lit, with the only light coming from scented candles that she picked out herself. \n\nNo-one who asked for her blessing knew her name, she was simply a woman who had, by divine intervention, lived to be two hundred years old.\n\n---------------------------------\n\nCharles wasn’t a special young man, but he was adequately intelligent and moderately successful, with a stable, salaried income and a cubicle to call his own. He was mildly attractive, tending to date on and off but never really having any luck with it. This was just the way he liked it though, as it gave him time to pursue his passion.\n\nHe was a self-titled “obsessive skeptic”, afflicted with a need to debunk myths and miracles wherever he might find them. Usually he would browse the internet for stories that stood out, and then he would browse further until he found two or three reliable sources that debunked whatever myth or miracle was being asserted. He would do all this with an enthusiasm that bordered on excessive, cross referencing the credible sources with the supposed miracle, and once satisfied that he’d uncovered the hoax he would smile inwardly to himself, think “that’s it,” and go on with his day. \n\nCharles was now in the throes of his obsession. He had heard about this two hundred year old woman. After frantically reading everything about her on the internet, including on some skeptics forums he was an active member in, he hadn't found any debunking theories credible enough. A need to know had started to consume him from the inside.\n\nOn Tuesday he'd bought up an image of her on his screen, obsessively examining every detail trying to look for anything that could give her away. He stared at the image for hours, the spreadsheets he was supposed to be working on completely forgotten.\n\nIf someone was two hundred years old they would indeed look like that, he thought to himself. The woman seemed to be staring at him through the screen, her eyes looked gray at first, but after a while he realized that they were just a seriously faded blue, and that they were oddly vacant. They were so sunken into her face that they seemed to be perpetually drenched in shadow. He thought she might be smiling but couldn't quite tell. Her few remaining teeth looked faded, brown, and oddly pointed. He hair lay flat and gray, falling drab-less down each side of her head.\n\nOn Friday Charles had boarded a plane for Venice. She would be at Saint Mark's Basilica for the next two weeks.\n\nOn Saturday morning he found himself in a long queue of hopefuls waiting to experience the miracle from God in the flesh.\n\nTwo hours later he was inside. The beauty of the building's interior was lost on him, it could have been painted a bright pink for all he cared. \n\nWhen he entered the little room at the back he was confronted with a sickly sweetness, a smell that seemed to encase the entire room. He eyed the candles and smelled one up close. Lavender.\n\nHe watched as she extended out a hand to the man in front of him. He had tears of joy streaming down his face, clearly in the throes of religious euphoria.\n\nCharles couldn't shake off the unsettled feeling that had been growing in his stomach once he'd entered the room. Was she really two hundred years old? How was that possible?\n\nThe crying man shakily exited the room, clearly impacted on a deep level. Charles watched him for a moment, then stepped towards the woman.\n\nHe said nothing. He simply walked up to her and stared at her like he'd stared at the picture on his screen. She looked exactly the same.\n\nShe reached up a hand. It had a wasted, atrophied look, with blue veins traced across its surface. When he did not kneel to receive her blessing, she stirred.\n\n\"How did you live to be two hundred?\" Charles asked, and then in spite of himself he continued to speak, \"There is no possible way you are two hundred. What's the trick? Look at you, you're old, sure, but you can't be that old.\"\n\nShe did not answer. She simply stared. The uneasiness in Charles started to grow, he felt his palms sweating and his forehead felt cold against the air in the room.\n\nUnable to take it anymore he turned to leave, just as he was about to walk away he caught a flash of expression on her face. Her eyes steeled, and her mouth splayed into an impossible grin, revealing a pointed tongue flicking through jagged yellow teeth. \n\nA jolt of adrenaline rushed through and he shot out of the room. After a few frantic paces a blood curdling scream brought him to his knees. In desperation he put his hands up to his ears and then pulled them away in shock. They were covered in blood.\n\nHe looked up at the line of people waiting to enter the room. They seemed to look back incredulously, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.\n\nThe scream had been entirely inside his head." ]	4
	[WP] Death talks someone out of commiting suicide in a public washroom.	[ "Jerry stared blankly into the mirror, his sunken eyes gleaming with frustration. When is enough, simply enough? \n\nDeath had been looming over Jerry's shoulder for some time but this was really shaping up to be the wrong time for Jerry.\n\n He felt residual hope creeping back. \nJust then Death appeared with a message for Jerry.\n\n\"Hey man, I know it seems really tough right now, and you feel like you can't take it anymore because the barista fucked up your venti mocha latte but I got a real important chess game and I just dont have time to deal with your bullshit right now.\"\n\nAnd just as quickly as he appeared, Death was gone. \n\nJerry decided he'd be alright without coffee today and left the bathroom. ", "A teenage boy was getting ready to commit suicide in a public bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat, pointing a pistol into his mouth in a stall full of graffiti. His cheeks were covered in tears. But finally he could release himself from all the pain he has suffered. He would never have to cry again.\n\nA shadowy figure shoved the stall door wide open, shouting at the boy, \"No, not now!\" The figure was dressed in dark robes and wielded an intimidating scythe.\n\n\"Whoa, dude, privacy!\" the young lad screamed and covered his genital area instinctively. \"Wait... Who are you?\"\n\n\"Death, duh.\"\n\n\"Nice costume, man, I'm not buying it. But you're super creepy. Like seriously, nice costume.\"\n\nDeath giggled even though he had heard something along those lines so many times before. The gullibility of these mortals never got old. \"No, I'm really Death. I'm really the Grim Reaper. You're about to kill yourself, yes?\"\n\n\"Uh,\" the teenager stuttered, looking back to the pistol, and continued, \"How do I know you're really Death himself?\"\n\n\"Did you tell anyone you would kill yourself? No. Then how would I have known and come to you at this exact time? Come on. Common sense.\" Grim was right, the boy thought to himself. He was still confused; he always believed the Grim Reaper to be some sort of mythology.\n\n\"Fine. But if you're Death, why don't you want me to die?\"\n\n\"Well, you see, I get paid for taking away people during their death--\" Grim was interrupted.\n\n\"Then why the hell are you postponing my suicide? Isn't that what you want?\"\n\n\"No! Listen, man. You're important to me.\"\n\n\"For what? I'm not important, not to my family, not to my friends, not to you, no one! I'm useless! The world would be better off without me!\" Tears continued rolling down the sad boy's face.\n\n\"I need you to live. Please, let me explain. You, actually, will become a very charismatic man in the future. A powerful leader. You must believe me.\"\n\n\"Why do you need me to live? I simply can't believe anyone would ever want me to live, sincerely.\"\n\n\"Like I said, I get paid for each death that happens,\" Grim explained, \"And I need your help. You'll be a very influential leader, and you're the only one fit for this work.\"\n\n\"Jobs for you, Death? Like what, killing people? Jesus...\"\n\n\"I guarantee I'll make it worth it for you in the afterlife. You'll get a good amount of that money from me if you do what I say.\"\n\n\"Money? In the afterlife? Don't joke around.\"\n\nGrim wasn't surprised that this mere human didn't know much about the actual afterlife. \"See, currency exists in the afterlife too. I'll give you enough money to bribe your way out of Hell!\"\n\n\"Hell? I'm not going to Hell!\"\n\n\"...Yeah, you are. You can go now and stay in Hell for eternity, or you can do what I say, take your life later, and bribe your way out of Hell when you die,\" Grim said. The young guy was starting to get convinced and interested in this offer.\n\n\"But how much money do you have to spend to literally bribe yourself out of Hell?\"\n\n\"I'll get paid a lot for this job, and I swear, you will get the money to bribe yourself out of there! You wanna risk killing yourself now? Or you wanna trust me just in case? It'll only be a few more years...\"\n\n\"Hmm, then what do I do?\"\n\n\"You're a charismatic guy, very good at leading people... Very good at speech, yes... This is what you'll do in your future in order to kill lots of people.\"\n\n\"Why me? Why not anyone else?\"\n\n\"Believe me, you're the only one who can do this. I can see the future. And if you kill yourself... It will never happen. I'll be in your debt if you can do this for me,\" Grim begged, \"I don't need to tell you what to do. It will just happen if you don't kill yourself before it happens. You'll figure it out when it does. But don't dare tell anyone about this agreement, or else the deal's off.\"\n\n\"Gosh. Fine. I'll do it. If it means not going to Hell forever...\" The boy got up from the toilet seat, and unloaded the gun. He shook hands with the Grim Reaper, feeling a little freaked out by the bony feel of his hand. Death was happy and felt accomplished. He patted the young man on the back before disappearing into thin air.\n\n\"Thank you, Adolf.\"", "HELLO OLD FRIEND. \nOH, YES, YOU DON'T REMEMBER ME THIS TIME DO YOU? YES, I MUST EXPLAIN MYSELF.\n\nTHIS HAS BEEN DIFFICULT FOR ME TO COME TO TERMS WITH, YOU SEE. THIS IS IT FOR ME AS WELL. \n\nDO YOU SEE THAT PERSON IN THE MIRROR? YES? YOU REMEMBER WHO THAT IS, DON'T YOU? OK, GOOD. THAT MEANS YOU HAVE A LITTLE MORE TIME. YOU NEED TO WAIT TO DO THIS.\nYOU'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF ONE MORE BOOK AND YOU MUST FINISH IT. THIS WILL BE THE MOST DIFFICULT ONE YET BUT YOU KNOW AS WELL AS I THAT YOU MUST PULL THROUGH. YOU CAN STILL DICTATE, AND AS YOU SAID BEFORE, YOU WILL DO THIS WHEN YOU CAN NO LONGER CREATE A BOOK. THERE ARE PEOPLE OUTSIDE THERE WHO ARE GOING TO HELP YOU. YOU MUST PUSH FORWARD. THERE ARE MILLIONS OF PEOPLE WHO ARE COUNTING ON YOU, AND WHO LOVE YOU VERY MUCH. \n\nME? OH. YES. YOU FORGOT WHO I WAS AGAIN, DIDN'T YOU. I AM THE ANTHROPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATION OF DEATH. YES. THAT'S A DIFFICULT WORD FOR YOU TO REMEMBER HOW TO SAY AND I APOLOGIZE.\n\nWHAT'S THAT?\n\nYOU NAMED IT THE SHEPARD'S CROWN....NO NOT LEOPARD GOWN.....SHEPARD'S CROWN.\n\nOH, YOU WANT TO GET BACK TO DICTATING THE BOOK? GOOD. I WILL LET YOU TAKE YOUR LEAVE THEN.\n\nIT'S BEEN A PLEASURE BEING AT YOUR SIDE, DEAR FRIEND. YOU HAVE DONE SOMETHING MOST PEOPLE CAN ONLY DREAM OF. YOU HAVE CREATED SOMETHING THAT HAS MADE MILLIONS OF PEOPLE VERY VERY HAPPY, AND YOU HAVE DONE IT ALL WITH WHAT CAME OUT OF YOUR MIND, WHICH IS UNFORTUNATELY FAILING YOU.\n\nHURRY ON, THEN. I FEAR THE NEXT TIME WE MEET WILL BE THE FINAL TIME. \n\nGO ON, SIR TERRY PRATCHETT. MAKE THEM SMILE ONE LAST TIME. ", "Hey. Yes, you. I can see you through the crack. Yes... there we go. Oh for- don't bother. I have seen more and worse, and you've really got bigger worries right now than hiding that bit between your legs.\n\n...\n\nI'll get out of here when I'm good and ready. I'm no pervert- whose the one sitting in a bathroom at the airport- the SACRAMENTO INT'L AIRPORT no less I mean really you couldn't have gone somewhere with a bit more class? Somewhere with culture for your last moments?\n\n...\n\nWhat? Oh, no. I'm not crazy and I'm pretty sure I did not fuck your mother, though she's had her share of little deaths. \n\nLook. I'm just here to tell you: don't bother. You can use that pathetic blade broken off a set of cheap scissors from your sewing kit for as long as you like, but you're not going anywhere. It's not your time.\n\n...\n\nWho am I? Let's just say I'm a friend. The only real friend anyone in this life ever has. Everyone says they're with you til the end but what about after, hm? When you're cold and alone and facing the biggest unknown there is, who's there at your side ready to face a whole new adventure? Surely not Suzy from 1st grade. Hmph. \n\nBut as I was saying- don't bother. You're not leaving, and even if you did manage to do some damage with that bit of... metal... I guess... You'll just end up in a lot of pain with blood everywhere. I'm here to tell you that this is not your end.\n\n...\n\nBecause it's my job to know these things. If it were your time, I certainly wouldn't be standing here staring at you through this weird gap between the stall door and the... wall? supports? Whatever. The location doesn't change the situation, which you should really be thankful for. I could think of worse places to die than Sacramento but I'd have a hell of a time trying.\n\n...\n\nYes. Yes I know it's hard. Living is hard, and it is absolutely okay to cry. I'd like to be able to tell you it's going to get better. The truth is I can't really say. That's not part of my job. I've seen a lot of lives end, friend-o. All lives are full of suffering. Some lives have more suffering than it seems anyone could actually ever bear. Unfortunately- well, the cynic says unfortunately, but that's not really a very hopeful stance to take. Whether you consider it fortunate or not, no one gets to choose when they walk away from it all. You have no more control over when this all ends than you did about when it started. \n\nSo don't bother. You don't really have a choice- you'll live through whatever nonsense you were thinking you'd be up to in here, and you'll either keep suffering or you won't. What you will do is live. Live until it's time to go.\n\nHm? Oh- the guy in the next stall is about to discover just how allergic to peanuts he really is. While you mortals are all eventually late, I never fail.\n\nDon't worry- you'll see me again.", "\"Really dude? I mean come on, son. First off we're in a public restroom, you really wanna do that here?\"\n\n\"Wait what?! Who the hell are you?\" Jake said, rather loudly, in a shakey voice.\n\n\"And secondly, you don't have it all that bad. I mean, the Big Guy upstairs told me all about you before I came over here.\"\n \nJake and the strange fellow were both standing at the urinals, as if they were relieving themselves. The strange man had a black hood attached to his cape that was wrapped around his body. The strange man unveiled himself, only to reveal that there was nothing but a skeleton underneath. The skeleton man then proceeded to pull his cloak back, much as a person would pull his jeans back before giving his bladder a well needed rest.\n\nNeedless to say, Jake was in shock at this point, and couldn't move. Slowly, he let out a \"Wh - wh -..... who?\"\n\nThe skeleton looked over to Jake, \"Who am I? Well, call me whatever you want. Some people call me the Grim Reaper, Death, Or Larry. All my friends call me Larry. Don't get me started on that though.\" Death (or Larry) then proceeded to mumble something about losing a bet with some guy named Gabriel.\n\n\"Okay... Okay,\" Jake said, trying to grasp that this was reality; then questioning if it really was. \"Are you here to take me then?\"\n\nDeath slapped Jake on the back of the head, \"You're an idiot,\" Death shook his head in disappointment. \"I'm here to talk you out of a mistake, but, by all means, go ahead if you want to.\" Death turned his back on Jake and crossed his arms, like a little kid threatening not to play with his sibling if he didn't do something for him first.\n\nA minute passed.\n\n\"Well,\" Jake continued, \"were you gonna convince me?\" Jake asked.\n\n\"Oh no, you have to decide Mr. Know-it-all. Go ahead. Just know I'll have to take you'll be spending the rest of eternity with me; or someone a whole lot worse!\"\n\n\"You mean satan? I'll go to hell?!\" Jake blurted out.\n\n\"Oh, no, I meant my brother, but that's a plausible possibility as well,\" Death chuckled. \"You'll be stuck wherever you end up forever though.\n\nJake blinked and he was gone. He looked around for Death or the stalls, \"Larry? Larry?\" he called out.\n\nHe stepped outside and there was a street-side preacher. Jake stopped to listen for a while.", "\"Come on dude. Think it over. Is this really the place you want your family and friends to remember you in? Of all the places? I've seen suicides a plenty. Bridge jumps, shoot outs, car chases. I've literally seen them all. Is this really the place to do it?\" \n\n\"Dearest Rob, such a funny dude. Always a happy go lucky guy, ended it all in Kings Cross Station Toilets, between platforms 9 and 10. No one will remember you as a Potter Martyr. Seriously man, think of the fame you could get. Instead of ending it all and becoming a footnote in someone else's history books, you could be a page unto yourself. Think tabloid instead of cubical. Think heroic instead of 80's pop star with a drug misuse habit.\" \n\n\"Moods are like seasons. Remember winter and how you forget what it's like to be outside and warm? A couple months later and boom, you're outside in tshirt and shorts. You might be depressed and lonely now but give it time and you might be happy with your life.\" \n\n\"I don't want to be one to stop you. I know when your timer ends, I'm simply looking out for your legacy here dude. I want you to be happy with how you end it all. Valhalla, heaven, limbo, whatever. All I'm saying is pick your moments wisely. Put those pills down and let's watch you kick ass. Leave these toilets, go out there and show those assholes who's boss.\" \n\n\"There's a good boy. Love life to the fullest...I love seeing someone change their mind...see you in a few days, Rob\"", "\"Interesting.\"\n\nShe quickly flung herself around at the sound of a voice, her heart pounding in her ears. She had been staring right into that mirror, and hadn't seen anyone entering the stall. Now, a pale being in black robes stood before her, his icy grey eyes filled with amusement. \n\n\"Who are you? Get . . . out-\"\n\n\"Lena, I've always thought of you as a smart girl, until today. I mean, would you really want your last few breaths on earth to fill your lungs with old Windex and sweaty cracks? How about when you meet the ground, I'm sure that won't be pretty.\" \n\nShe glanced up at him with an intense terror in her bloodshot eyes, then tried to look past him. \n\n\"Nobody can hear us, I just want to talk to you. You've wanted to meet death for a while right? Here I am,\" he smirked and leaned against the stall. She caught a glimpse of an eery glow coming from his hands. \n\n\"Am I dead already?\" she muttered to herself, and reached out to touch him. She had not a clue what was going on, but pulled her hand away when it met with his cold skin. \n\n\"No, not at all. I've been watching you for a while, and though I do enjoy taking people out of their 'misery', I don't want to take you. I want you to live, I'm sure your little brother does too. Did you think of him at all before you ran in here with a bag full of painkillers? What's going to end his pain once you're gone?\" \n\nTears filled her eyes, yet she didn't feel the pain in her heart anymore. She had nobody in this world, but she knew that would leave her brother in the same situation. That was why she'd stayed away from him for years. \n\n\"Isolating yourself from the little you have left, won't prevent them from knowing you're gone. You'll be hurting them because they'll blame themselves for their lack of communication with you,\" Death explained and cupped her cheek, giving her a look of care that she hadn't seen since her father had passed away. \n\n\"Are you really death?\" \n\n\"Yes,\" he laughed, \"and you've finally met me, but I'm not willing to take you. Not yet at least. When the time comes, I'll show you a whole different world. Immortality will be your best friend. Why don't you head to Joey's apartment and surprise him, tell him his big sister has missed him tons, then see how you feel about ending a life you have yet to live? I'll teleport you there.\" \n\n\"Yeah, I . . . gosh I can't believe it. I was about to kill myself. Why did you stop me? Death, I've met death but not in that sense. This is insane.\" \n\n\"Come on,\" he ordered softly, and took her hands. She missed the way his eyes flashed a bloody crimson, and soon found herself standing before Joey's apartment door. \n\n\"Wow,\" she whispered, \"I- thank you, thank you so much for this. I didn't know what I was thinking I just needed someone to talk to. Wait- are you from Heaven? What I mean to say is, where would you have taken me after I died?\" \n\n\"The place where I'm from . . . \" Death pressed his hand against the small of her back, urging her to continue with her plan. \n\nShe proudly smiled to herself, glad she hadn't made the decision of abandoning her only family. \n\n Lena quickly wiped away her tears and used her sleeves to dry her eyelashes, then took a deep, calming breath. As she knocked on the hollow door, she felt the most excruciating pain rip through her body. She looked down to find some sort of a pointed spear sticking out through her chest- she'd been stabbed. She couldn't turn around, she couldn't breathe, and she couldn't think. \n\nShe collapsed to her knees in agony and heard muffled screams coming from the doorway before her. \n\n\"Hell,\" Death finished. \n", "Don't do it.\n\nWhoa! You just appeared out of nowhere. Who are you? That cloak and skythe look awfully familiar. I wanna say Bob, Bob from accounting, right?\n\nDeath. James Death.\n\nDeath's first name is James.\n\nYes.\n\nMakes sense. What can I do you for?\n\nWell, I couldn't help but notice you're about to kill yourself.\n\nHow's that?\n\nIt's my job, dumb dumb. Jimmy Death has to take a life every eight seconds, and sometimes the commute is a bitch. But instead of trying to hurry you along, I must say that your suicide attempt is ill guided.\n\nWhy's that?\n\nI wanna say it's because you have a wife and kids, but the real reason is that Game Of Thrones isn't over. You love GOT, right?\n\nF'n A I heart GOT OMG\n\nQuit texting me.\n\nSorry.\n\nYou wanna know how it ends, right?\n\nYeah, but my wife is leaving me.\n\nBut cable isn't. You'll always have cable. Sure, you may think, hey, I'll cut the cord, just like I was about to cut my wrist, but that would be a mistake. You won't see this on Netflix.\n\nWell, I guess I could put it off for awhile. I do wanna know how it all wraps up,\n\nRight, and that'll take a couple of more years. That'll be $79.99 a month.\n\nWait, why is Death--\n\n** James Death.\n\n--wearing a Comcast visor?\n\nI thought you wanted to see the rest of Game Of Thrones\n\nAh! Fine! I'll sign anything. (scribbles signature) Although, wait, I could have just not killed myself and--\n\nToo late!** (disappears in puff of smoke)\n\nShit,\n\nThis PSA brought to you by Comcast, because torrents are for pussies." ]	8
	[WP] A person is cursed with the ability to hear babies cry from anywhere in the world. One day, it's quiet.	[ "You ever hear stories of someone who hears voices? You'd always call them crazy, right? See them over there talking to themselves. Stashed up high in a loony-bin... \n\n\nI used to hear voices. Didn't matter where I was, who I was with, of if I was alone. I'd always hear them. It didn't bother me at first and some times I didn't mind it. You can only imagine the things people say when they think no one is listening. Some one is always listening. Don't ever forget that.\n\n\nThis went on for years. From roughly around the age of 14 to 21 it went on. You couldn't imagine the things I've heard. But came time for my 22nd birthday, everything changed. At first I didn't know what was going on. I couldn't figure out what it was at first. But then I realized what it was. Babies crying. It was like I was sitting in the hospital room where all the babies go to be checked out and every single one of them were crying all at once and I couldn't move. I couldn't say or do anything to calm them down. It was just mayhem. \n\nIt has been going on for months. I can't stand it any more. I haven't slept at all since it started. I've locked myself in rooms. Tried head phones to drown them out. I even tried sitting in a sound proof room. Nothing will separate me from their cries. I can't stand it any more. I need a break from the screams of pain, hunger, longing and boredom. I need just one solid moment of silence. I want the last thing I hear to be the sound of this round tearing through my skull...\n\nThere is a God...", "I wasn't always able to hear a baby's cry. I used to live a pretty mundane life before. The day it all changed was when I took the trip on an airplane. I was taking a nap when I woken up by the cry of a baby. I took my headphones and pressed them against my ears. No difference was made. I removed them only to then hear multiple babies crying. I was about to give a look at the parents when I turned around to see no baby on board. Not a single one. Perhaps it was the in flight movie. I was wrong. I closed my eyes and told myself that we would be landing soon and things will be better then. ...they weren't. \n\nLife is different now. It's still mundane but now it's a lot more annoying. I understand how the Grinch now feels. My girlfriend and I get into arguments for petty issues. I have taken pills, been shocked, and many other techniques that I don't care to think of now. I have contemplated on ending my life. I even have a noose. I sat in my room with my eyes bloodshot. I looked at the rope when all of a sudden everything went quiet. A smile slowly formed. My heavy head leaned against the wall. I could finally get some sleep. As I walked to my bed my happiness faded and my curiosity appeared.\n\nWhy is it quiet?\nAre the babies okay?\n\nI wouldn't be able to rest if something had happened to silence all the babies. I called a taxi to take me to the nearest hospital. I went upstairs to the nursing floor and arrived to be surprised. They were fine. Some napping, other with their eyes darting around the room. The curse is lifted. \nI arrived back home to see my girlfriend in the kitchen. I approached her and said \"Today feels like such a special day. Let's go out to eat. Wherever you like.\" She looked back at me and smiled. \"I'm so happy to hear that. Today is a special day. I just found out. I'm pregnant!\"" ]	2
	[WP] Write a scene involving a vase of pink roses	[ "Susan sighed heavily as she looked into the center of her living room. She was sitting on a corduroy recliner placed opposite from the windows. She and her daughter lived in Omagh and all the energy Susan had was spent watching the dust dance in the light that poured in through the window. There was never a shortage of dust to watch.\n\nIn the center of the room was a table littered with past due bills, a copy of last weeks Tyrone Constitution and an empty pack of cigarettes. The cigarettes are why she could only sigh from her chair and not work a job to pay the mounting bills. It was difficult to do anything at all when your body was riddled with cancer. It was hard to go the doctor when you and your neighbors feared for your life.\n\nThe stamping of her daughter's feet broke her away from her gloomy thoughts. \"I'm going to market, Mum. Need anything before I leave?\"\n\n\"Hand me the papers, I'll read what's going outside these windows.\" Susan hoarsely replied. Speaking was almost foreign to her.\n\nHer daughter picked the paper off the table and glanced at the cover. \"Mum, this from the 9th of August. It's nearly a week old. I'll pick you up today's edition in town.\"\n\nSusan smiled and sighed.\n\nShe was pleased at what her daughter had become. A beautiful redhead of 15 years old. More mature beyond her years. A dead father and a mother stricken with terminal cancer would do that to you, she supposed.\n\nHer daughter had been tasked with getting the supplies for the house. Susan was too ill to do it anymore. Everything from cooking, shopping and the sewing had been passed off to her daughter when the cancer began it's lethal hold. There was always sewing to be done. They could barely afford food, let alone clothes. Hand me downs and donations always needed a little patch work, but worked well for the price.\n\n\"Bye Mum!\"\n\nSusan heard the door click closed as her daughter went out into town. Susan closed her eyes and said a prayer in her head.\n\n\"O Lord, be between us and harm and protect us from the harm of the world.\"\n\nSpeaking, thinking, and praying had made Susan tired. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as she fell asleep on the recliner.\n\n*\n\nAcross town two men were looking for parking. Visitors to the courthouse had caused all the closest spots to be taken. They settled on a spot in front of SD Kell's, a clothier. Their maroon Vauxhall looking perfectly ordinary. \n\nThe driver of the vehicle reached around and activated a switch. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. \n\n\"O Lord, be between us and harm and protect us from the harm of the world.\"\n\n\n\nSusan's daughter walked through the town holding her wares under her arm. She had bought some roses from the florist an effort to cheer her mother up. She got a discount because they were already beginning to wilt but wilted flowers were better than no flowers. The florist had even thrown in a makeshift vase: an old milk bottle. Under her other warm was today's Tyrone Constitution. Presumably filled with more bad news than good but it was dated with today's date: August the 15th, 1998. \n\nAs she walked past the clothier she noticed two tourists, latin looking tourists, taking pictures in front of a maroon Cavalier.\n\n\"Must be Spaniards\", she thought to herself.\n\n*\nSusan woke with a start. A terrible noise ripped through her neighborhood. It agitated the dust in her house as it shook the floorboards, the walls and the windows. Susan had never heard (or FELT!) such a noise in her life. She was confused and in shock. The only thing she could think to do was pray.\n\n\"O Lord, be between us and harm and protect us from the harm of the world.\"\n\nBut it was too late.\n\nGod had chosen the car bomb.", "Stephen parked very carefully so as not to send the flowers he had bought tumbling. After he had turned off the car he sat there for a while, just looking at them. Pink roses. Carly had mentioned they were her favorite back in sixth grade. There was a very good chance that had changed; they were 17 now, and he hardly ever spoke to Carly. \n\nHe debated, not for the first time and not for the last, if he should just go home. \n\n“These were kind of expensive,” he mumbled under his breath. Roses cost more than you think they should. Especially for something that’s actively dying at purchase. He carefully lifted the teal blue vase into his lap. It was windy and a light rain had started. He tucked the blooms as best he could under his jacket and stepped outside.\n\nHe preformed an awkward hunched scurry to protect the flowers before getting past the automatic doors. As they closed behind him, he felt like there was no backing out now. \n\nThe lobby had the very specific and unmistakable smell of hospital. No one noticed his entrance. He stepped up to the front desk and gave a little cough. The woman sitting in front of him in lilac scrubs looked up,\n\n“Can I help you, sir?”\n\n“Um, Carly Tedstrom’s room?”\n\n“Oh yes, of course, number 403,” she smiled sadly.\n\nOh yes, of course, she had said. Stephen suddenly felt sheepish. \n\n“Thanks,” he said quickly and turned to the elevators. \n\nHe looked down at the bundle of pink roses. Glaringly pink. Did you think this would be special? Everybody at school must of come here already.* He sighed audibly at the elevator ding. You haven’t talked to Carly all year. I mean, not really talked. He pressed 4. \n\nIt wasn’t like the two had a falling out or something dramatic. They were friends as kids, less so as teenagers, and now they had new friends. \n\nAnother ding. The doors slid open. Her room was just down the hall. For a moment his heart climbed to his throat imagining what he might say if other people were there visiting. He gritted his teeth and turned the corner into the room. \n\nNo one was there but Carly. No one else could have fit in there. The room was full of flower arrangements. They were all over the ground, on multiple tables, lilies, tulips, - a lot of flowers Stephen didn’t know. There were a few teddy bears, too.\n\nCarly was asleep, machines buzzing and beeping around her. He was simultaneously disappointed and relieved about this. He glanced down again at his pink roses and decided he was relieved. He quietly maneuvered around the room to slide the vase in a small empty space on a table near the foot of the bed. \n\nHe took a second to look at Carly, but it made him a little too uncomfortable. He felt his face get hot looking at her own. It wasn’t the right shape. It looked hollow and puffy at the same time. She was pale, especially compared to the dark bandana she had tied around her shaved head. \n\nOh, almost forgot. He held the tiny card they had given him against his leg and scribbled,\n\nGet well soon –Stephen\n\nWhen Carly awoke, a nurse was quietly shifting flowers in her room,\n\n“Oh hi there, honey. How you feeling?”\n\nCarly gave a flat smile and a weak shrug. \n\n“Alright,” the nurse nodded. She understood.\n\nCarly squinted, noticing some pink blooms from behind another arrangement. \n\n“Are those from my parents?” she asked, pushing through the fishhooks in her throat, “Pink roses are my favorite.”\n\nThe nurse followed her gaze,\n\n“Uh, no, it’s says, ‘Stephen.’”\n\nCarly furrowed her brow.\n\n“Here,” the nurse smiled and slid them onto her side table, “I’ll keep ‘em right here for you.”\n", "I stare at her angrily.\n\nHad I been wrong about her being right for me? Maybe those moments were just that, moments. Fleeting moments of passion, influenced by alcohol, cigars and cold summer evenings. She stares back. I see pain flash in her eyes. Maybe I'm wrong for her?\n\n\"I'm so fucking sick of this. I have waited for months, never prying, never asking what's fucking wrong with you. Either you tell me what the hell is wrong with you, at least give me a hint that it's not me you're mad at, or we're over,\" there's anger in her voice. Hate even. The shy, sweet girl with the dirty blonde hair and the soft curves on her body and the stormy grey eyes is done. Done with putting up with my shit.\n\nI feel the walls in my mind weakening. I stare at the vase of pink roses. She got these for me. I feel a sob building up in my chest, moving into my throat. I feel tears pooling in my eyes. My hazel eyes. She loves them. She loves me and I've been taking her for granted.\n\nI feel tears streaming down my cheeks, I feel sobs starting to bubble up, loud and hard. I sink to my knees. I can't take this pain. \n\nShe's quick to respond, moving close to me, pressing my head into her stomach. It's comforting. I take in the way she smells, like soap and oranges and shampoo and sweat and the cold. I sob. \n\nI'm trying to squeak out apologies, but my mouth won't move, my throat won't cooperate. \n\nShe's apologizing now. Her stormy grey eyes look at me, filled with regret. She kneels down. She looks into my eyes. Her hand is on my cheek, her thumb gently rubbing away tears. \n\nMy mind spills over. I'm telling her everything. My dad dying, my mom getting sick, it's not your fault, my world being turned over, the stress of life getting to me, beating me into the ground. She's hugging me. \n\nIt's not your fault. I repeat it to her like a mantra. I sob like a little boy. She's apologizing too. She gets me up on my feet. I grab the vase, she leads me upstairs. I place the roses on the bedside table. She's instructing me to put on pyjamas, get ready for bed. I do. She does too. Snow blows outside. I feel cold.\n\nI crawl in between the covers, hide there. She curls up next to me, murmuring \"it's okay\" in my ear. I kiss her, take in her soft lips. I hold her, she holds me. We hold each other. Snow beats against the window. The night is silent.\n\n\n\"I love you,\" I whisper. \"I love you too,\" she whispers back. She falls asleep quickly, and soon I do too, feeling relieved, feeling watched over, by the snow, by the vase of pink roses, by her. The love of my life. \n\n\n\n ", "Red now covers what was a white rug.\n\nOne gold cartridge contrasts brightly against the deep black marble tile.\n\nA lifeless man in a fine blue suit is slumped over his glass table.\n\nI knew the beat cops wouldn't notice it yet, but there it was.\n\nThe only thing we know about the killer. From so many scenes before.\n\nA vase of pink roses." ]	4
Context is up to you. As it should always be.	[WP] Remain human, or remain humane. You can't have both.	[ "You may call me Ares for I have declared war on an entire species. You may call me Hades for I have met more dead men than the god of the underworld himself. Or you may call me James, which is my birth name. If you're reading this you are either me (Hello), or you are the media which will surely not do this story justice. I didn't kill because I enjoyed it, or because those people angered me in any certain way. I did it because every person anger me in every certain way. They're loud, conceited, mean, and most of all there is too many of them.\n \n\"Hey James, you coming over tomorrow to my potter party? Tons of women, free beer, and plus we can get a chance to hang out again.\"\n\nTyler, the office douche.\n\n\"Yeah man, definitely! I miss hanging out with you! I've just been busy. I'll be there around eight. Just be sure to hide the remotes!\"\n\nCue fake laugh.\n\n\"Oh shit man I forgot about that!\" he chuckled, \" Yes I will be sure to do that. Catch ya tomorrow bro!\"\n\nYeah see you tomorrow you pompous idiot. It is surprising how little people care what you do with the rest of your life as long as you make an occasional appearance in theirs.\nAnyway, back to my monologue.\nEveryone has something they love, and that helps them fit in. They find someone who loves the same thing and talk about it, they find someone who doesn't agree and they argue about it, or they find someone who likes something else entirely and talk to them about anything. They can sense if you are different, they may not know how, but they know. And this casts you away. Which is not good for me. So as long as I have something to keep me human, I can act like my passion is something more humane. Because as you (or I) all know by now, I never had the option for both.\n\nEdit: I have never written before, so it may kind of suck, but if any of you have any suggestions let me know! Thanks!", "The rain and wind roared through the darkness. Dr. Simon Ross was standing on the roof of the building, overlooking the city. He leaned into the wind, the toes of his shoes flirting with the edge. \n\nHe reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out the small black leather pouch. He flipped it open, and looked inside, squinting hard against the rain. A small vial, glowing brilliant green, sat tucked against the leather. He gently lifted it out, letting the wind take the pouch over the side of the building.\n\nHe stared at it for a moment, the bright green illuminating the drops around him. If only they would listen, he thought bitterly. He closed his hand around it, shutting his eyes and letting the rain hit him.\n\nHis hesitation lasted only a moment. The bullet seared through the center of his chest, sending droplets of blood to mix with the rain. His body flew backward, onto the cement of the roof. Another sharp chirp sent a second bullet into his chest, just below the first. He gasped for breath, the rain blurring his vision as he danced in and out of consciousness.\n\nA shadowy figure appeared above him, the moon illuminating the silenced pistol. The figure knelt, and reached into his palm, removing the vial. The green cast a strange shadow as the figure stood again.\n\n\"Wha.... why...\" was all Simon could say. He gasped again.\n\nThe figure walked to the edge of the building, turning to look at him, vial glowing in an outstretched arm.\n\n\"We warned you!\" the figure shouted. \"You cannot stop the inevitable!\"\n\nRoss could feel himself slipping. He grasped at the rain, as though that might stop the bleeding. \n\n\"You... you musn't\" he stammered. \n\nThe figure stared at him a moment, then flicked the vial over the edge of the building. It flashed brilliant against the dark sky, drops of rain glowing bright green as they passed.\n\nThe figure walked back to Ross, aiming at his head.\n\n\"Remain human,\" the figure said. \"Or remain humane. You can't have both.\"\n\nA prayer for humanity slipped through Ross' lips as the final chirp rang out. Then, nothing.\n", "\"Before the plaintiffs give their concluding statement, would they like to call up a last witness?\"\n\n\"We'd like to call up our last witness, the human known as Leanna Abrams.\"\n\nThe camera and microphone in front of me switch on, and I do my best to look presentable.\n\n\"Ms. Abrams, according to your previous testimony, you were a member of the Earth Armed Forces, correct?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And you were present during the invasion of Sirius?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I'm going to read some of the Galactic Conventions, and you tell me if it was violated by your people on Sirius.\" I nodded. \n\n\"Armies will not murder unarmed civilians.\"\n\n\"Violated. Yes, it was violated.\"\n\n\"Armies will not use chemical, biological, light-based, or radioactive weapons.\"\n\n\"Yes, violated.\"\n\n\"Armies will not mutilate their enemies' corpses, and they will allow their enemies to safely retrieve them.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Armies must take surrendered soldiers as prisoners of war, and they will not kill prisoners of war.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Armies will not force their enemies into labor camps.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Armies will not torture their enemies for any purpose.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nHe shuffles through his pages. \"Very well, Ms. Abrams. That will be all.\"\n\nThe power indicator lights on the camera and microphone switched off, and the broadcast of the courtroom faded. I lean on the solid white back wall of the dangerous-witness-isolation room, my mind racing. \n\nMy comrades are penned up in a jail cell somewhere, their fate sealed by my actions. They were the men and women I spent years training and fighting with - they are my best friends, the closest thing I have to family. I remember Captain George's pre-battle pep talks, his rants about the war being the only way for people to survive in a hostile universe. \n\nI know they will never forgive me for betraying them.\n\nBut then it comes back. The Sirian soldier's face contorting as I blast him in the chest with a microwave gun, his torso exploding and his body crumpling. The Sirian child crying as Private Brendan beats his mother to death with his rifle. The hopeless looks on the Sirian prisoners' faces as they are led to the firing squad.\n\nIs humanity's survival worth that? No, there is no evading the truth. I told the truth, and nothing more.\n\nThe monitor switches back on. As a \"potentially dangerous witness,\" I'm only supposed to be able to see key moments in the trial. This must be the verdict.\n\nThe judge's stern face fills the screen. \"The council has spoken, and the Galactic Federal Court, Orion Arm Branch, declares the human race to be guilty of genocide, mass destruction, and 6 breaches of the Galactic Conventions. As punishment, the human homeworld, known as Earth, will be destroyed. All surviving humans will face capital punishment or lifetime imprisonment, depending on the severity of their crimes.\" \n\nCheers erupt from the audience in the courtroom. Justice has been served. A part of my heart cheers as well. The other part cries.\n\nA guard opens my door, gun in hand, gesturing for me to leave the witness room. I'm not sure what they'll do with me - I did some pretty bad things as a soldier.\n\nWe pass the defendant witnesses, most of them humans. Their faces turn to rage at the sight of me. \n\n\"TRAITOR! TRAITOR! TRAITOR!\" they yell. They lunge at me, held back by their handcuffs. \n\n\"I know,\" I say softly.", "She looked through the thick window of one way glass, at the subject strapped down into the chair. Most of these felons, here on the chemical release program, had eyes that darted around relentlessly. His eyes, even though they couldn't possibly see her, were locked almost directly into hers. Almost.\n\nShe took a step back, recalculating the angle of his gaze, and tracked it to the window. Ah, a small chip of the reflective material had peeled back, barely even a millimeter's worth. He was staring at that single, tiny glint of difference in his environment, diligently focused on it, seeking any advantage it could glean him, the rest of his world ignored as useless. Good hunter instincts in this one.\n\nShe went over to the warbler, speaking into it. Over the loudspeakers, she could hear it, distorted as it played back to him, a gutteral baritone that fluctuated high and low in a ribbon. \"P-932, aliases John Quincy Public and the Public Killer, no known real name, date of birth unknown, age unknown, social security number unknown. Please address the speaker behind you to confirm this is true.\"\n\nNot that he'd fall for that bit of disorientation, since he had already, and quite literally, seen through the facade, but they pivoted the chair anyway, turning him around. To his credit, his lip curled up, and he strained against the restraints to look over his shoulder at the gap in the otherwise precisely mirrored surface, ignoring the new box before him jutting out of the wall that was meant to captivate his attention. Addressing the speaker behind him, indeed. This one was dangerous and smart.\n\n\"That is true.\" He began, with a croaking, underused voice. He licked chapped lips, coughed, smiled broadly. \"Ma'am.\"\n\nShe started, hairs on the back of her neck standing up, instinctively checking the warbler's functionality, thinking back on her choice of words to see if she had used any pronouns or tells, before her eyes settled upon the gap in the window. A hand fluttered up to her rowan hair, dyed violently red (to match her temperament, ha ha, very funny guys), and she regretted taking the extra step to stand out in this place.\n\nStill, many people had red hair. Just how long had he been staring at that gap before she arrived, and how long had he greedily observed everything that window in the window could show him, to know that she was a woman? Or, was he just firing in the dark, seeing if he could get a reaction, and here she was silently overreacting?\n\nShe picked up the mic again, coughing to clear her throat - over the speaker it came out as sounding like a rheumatic doberman barking, and she flinched again - and spoke, unconsciously clipping her words to short, choppy, professional-only language. \"Please limit your responses to only pertinent affirmatives and negatives, I will ask you if any additional clarification is needed.\"\n\n\"Yes ma'am.\" Oh, there was no retrieving that one. Even if he were just firing randomly, she'd be sitting before her boss immediately after this, explaining just how exactly he was able to acquire information on interviewers and know which one he was assigned. We're looking for a leak and you're the only one with a squeaky voice... even after many years with the program, in which she had proven her loyalty countless times, they still viewed her with excessive suspicion.\n\n\"We are going to begin now, John.\" Needed to calm down a bit, that was a slip, even though everyone called him John Q. Public, she needed to stick to his prisoner code, already she could hear her supervisor, all oh, you're on a first name basis with the criminal? Tell me, when did you first meet? Damn it.\n\nShe cued up the recording and let it start playing, welcoming the brief respite so she could start working on her upcoming interview and grilling. The first time, she didn't hear the tap on the window. The second time, she glanced up in irritation at the distraction and screamed.\n\n\"How the fuck is he out of his chair?\" she yelled. Nobody in the room to answer, of course, just her, but damn it... well, at least the outburst would look good when they reviewed the case, unless they assumed she staged it... damn it.\n\nShe cut off the feed to the recording from the mangler, washing the room in silence. From the box to her left, almost subaudial, a high pitched squeaking continued explaining the program, from the window, his raised finger, poised to tap again, stopped and hovered. He pressed his lips against the glass, fogging it, and spoke. Not through the mutual feed, but through panes. It came out a muted murmur, but to pick up, he had to be practically roaring against the glass.\n\n\"Ma'am? Thank you.\" For a man who had to be bellowing at the top of his lungs, it came out soundly friendly, polite, almost embarrassed. She'd almost feel sheepish about fearing him, if it weren't for his eye, right over the hole in the window, flicking back and forth, devouring everything it could see. She took another step to the left to make sure she was out of range, and picked up the warbler mic.\n\n\"... P-932, how have you escaped your restraints?\"\n\n\"Oh, sorry about that ma'am. The tech guy didn't even bother strapping them down, I guess I just scared him that much he plum forgot,\" a bashful, almost boyish grin against the glass, \"and y'all run such a good show here that I just played along. Didn't want to ruin the game.\"\n\nShe remembered him pretending to strain against the restrains to stare over his shoulder, and belatedly realized that if he were strapped down, that wouldn't have been possible. Oh, shit, this was going to count as so many marks against her record...\n\n\"Anyway, ma'am, I do like the presentation, I really do, but I prefer talking to humans, machines just give me the heebie jeebies. So I'm glad you turned that recording off. I like knowing my friendliness is appreciated when I chat.\"\n\nShe took a breath to calm herself, exhaled. \"What makes you think it was a recording?\"\n\n\"Well, ma'am, it was either a recording or you've got someone in there spitfire chattering who doesn't need to use their lungs. I didn't hear even a one gasp for air during the entire thing. Either a recording, or you've got something in there that gives me even worse heebies. Does the Project staff aliens now, too?\"\n\nShe nodded curtly, that made sense. She'd mention adding in breathing sounds to the recording during the next evaluation... that is to say, as soon as the folks upstairs came for her, so probably the next couple of minutes if Frank wasn't sleeping on the job. \"No, P-932, we do not employ aliens. Was that your only question? I'd like for you to return to your seat.\" Slim chance, that, but...\n\nHe nodded back, causing goosebumps to rise up her spine again, and walked over, plopping luxuriously into the wooden frame, spinning it around to face the window. After a considerate pause, he reached over and strapped his legs in, then his right arm, then struggled for a bit trying to reach the left. Not quite making it. She stared befuddled at the display. Finally, he gave up and waved sheepishly towards her, speakingly clearly now through the on-seat mic. \"Can't quite finish up the job, but that's good enough, right?\"\n\n\"Um. Yes. Thank you, P-932.\"\n\n\"Oh, shucks. Call me Adam. What's your name?\"\n\nThis one wasn't on the known list of aliases. He followed the typical trend, of serial criminals picking psuedonyms that matched their own initials. John Q Public, Jacob Q Parker, Jack Q Portman... What the hell...\n\n\"I don't have a name.\"\n\n\"Well, that's fair, some people just forget to ask for one. Mind if I call you Amy? I always did fancy Amys.\" Yes, this was true enough, they had four women in morgue storage by that name... \"Oh, wait, y'all think I'm a killer. How about Beth?\" Two in the cold chamber. \"Or maybe Carol?\" None of those. \"I think I'll name you Carol. Always wanted a Carol.\"\n\nShe shuddered.\n\n\"So, Carol, just two friends talking among themselves, why don't you give me the rundown on this project i signed up for? You can summarize if you like, I did read those papers you sent the prison. All one hundred and seven of them. So... let's skip over the legal mumbo jumbo and just put it plainly?\"\n\nShe gathered her thoughts. She'd had several about the project, some waxing for hours about the moral and ethical considerations, but never had she thought to reduce it down into a summary. Could it be reduced down into a summary?\n\n\"Carol?\"\n\nShe began, tentatively. \"Essentially, the MH toxin is the second line in a test compound first discovered by Michael Agnarsson, a Swedish-American theoretical researcher who...\"\n\n\"Ahem.\"\n\nShe floundered with her thoughts, resumed. \"The first MH chemical had unexpected and impractical side effects, namely gross mutations, but the second was considered mostly perfected as a means to rehabilitate criminals into society. It functions as a form of organic polymeric bridge that invades the...\"\n\n\"Ahem.\" Amused, like a teacher scolding a child. Automatically, she flushed.\n\n\"In layman's terms, it gives formerly irreconcilable deviants one last opportunity to return to productiveness. The chemical either fixes their brain, finds the mental illness or malfunction and cauterizes it, readying them for release to society after psych evaluation, or...\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"... is rejected by the host body and violently invades the bloodstream, causing lesions, tumors, mild leprosy, erratic spontaneous muscle pattern growth, cerebral scarring particular to the higher functioning regions, and eventually requires voluntary euthanasia administration.\"\n\n\"So... you either become human and get to live, or become a monster and get to die?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And what about the humans? Do they still have any of those old, terrible urges? Do the monsters born from their souls keep them?\"\n\n\"Every reintegrated criminal undergoes regular evaluation to ensure no relapse of prior undesirable behaviors. The... others, are mercifully taken care of. One way or another...\"", "It's the species that has evolved. You'd think it would have been a step in the opposite direction but that's not what nature says. Not that nature has anything to say at this point. Most of us decided to go with them. Why not? A chance to live for thousands of years and do as you please when you please?\nThere wasn't much of an argument.\n\nExcept from those who stood to suffer. And they only stood because they believed. They believed in the good. But with so many opinions on the matter, most of us can't make up our minds on what's good any more. Those humans adapted. Same as can be said for any other creature on the planet. It was a difficult choice, but it was a choice after all. The planet was fighting back now. Nobody cares what caused it because anybody who cared is dead now. \n\nTsunamis rule the oceans and the edges of the map. Hurricanes swipe the oxygen in your lungs from the other side of the planet. Solar radiation burns a new hole in the sky every day. And a day without an earthquake, just isn't a day at all. They're not exactly machine I wouldn't think, but they're not exactly human. We only call them humans because they spat on us when we did otherwise. That's the catch isn't it? The further they hacked their bodies (literally and technologically), the less they cared about anything that wasn't them. \n\nIn time the distinction grew and we as a singular species grew apart. They became a superior species. Though I like to think that we became a better species. It started with ridicule and rude comments. Then it was death threats and destruction of property. Then they came through on those threats. \n\nThen we as a species grew apart in distance. They kept to upper atmosphere, and sure we got the increasingly inhospitable planet's surface. And some don't think so, but I think it's a fair trade if it means keeping the humans away. They live in luxury and we live in squalor. They indulge in excess and we survive on nothing. \n\nMore than all that, what hurt the most was when they began to label us as if we were sheep who'd outlived their pasture. Humans were the cream of the crop. Then came the Human-A which was a person currently transitioning into full fledged Human. Human-B were willing to become full Human but their bodies too feeble to support transition, they were generally used as slaves. Human-C was labeled anyone with mental disabilities who were unable to make a decision for themselves, these they kept as pets. Human-D were the one's who had decided to stray from the Humans and live beneath the planet's surface. \n\nThen there's us, some might consider us revolutionaries, others might see as only as pests, but we've grown in numbers and we've grown in strength. So much so that we've received a label all to ourselves, so to all of us who live on the surface in protest, to those of us who fight both Human and Nature just to prove a god damned point, I drink this watery soot for you! Now put on your goggles, get your gear, and let's go earn the title of 'Human-E'." ]	5
	[WP] Write the origin of a villain.	[ "The fist landed on his jaw, glanced off and into his throat. It was one of many beatings he had endured since they got him.\n\nHe and his unit had just made contact with the local rebels about a week ago, and had begun training them when the government forces circled in.\n\nFirst the mortars started raining in and he and his unit tried to get the rebels organized. But they left then, they left him and his men to die.\n\nThe government forces came up the ridge. After three hours of fighting they killed all of his men, and they were new killing him.\n\nNo they had killed him. They had ripped everything from him, but he hadn't talked. He never would, his training wouldn't allow him.\n\nNot that his government cares. They followed protocol, he no longer exist, never did.\n\nThe fist struck again on his eyebrow this time, and again on his nose. They picked up a knife and pulled his his had back.\n\nThey screamed at him, demanding he talk. When he didn't they cut open his cheeks, adding to the scars covering his body.\n\nThey had a doctor patch him up. He did a ok job, just means they won't hit his face got awhile.\n\nThey came back and picked up a knife. But the ropes were weak now the idiots never changed them.\n\nAs they walked forward laughing he smirked and jumped. He grabbed one and slammed his head into the wall, as he slammed his elbow into the back of his neck.\n\nThe other one ran at him with the knife. He grabbed the knife and spun throwing the guard to the ground and taking the knife.\n\nThe guard rolled, and jumped up kicking him in the chest.\n\nHe stood up laughing.\n\n\"A little fight in you, I like that\".\n\n", "One bad day can do it if it's bad enough, and one bad year can do it to almost any man. After a lifetime of beatings, bad luck, and lost opportunities, Tim had enough, but he wasn't fully ready yet. This was just a beginning. His boss had been a bully, worse than some of those who had beat him into submission. He belittled him in front of others and blamed Tim for his mistakes. Tim just wanted to sabotage one project, but it ended up going too far. Four weeks later, his boss was dead in an apparent autoerotic asphyxiation gone too far. Tim had simply taken his meditation pad that his boss kept behind his door. It was supposed to be the first step in many to driving him nuts, but the meditation pad kept the door in place that his boss used to hang himself as he \"conducted his business.\" Without the meditation pad, the door slipped. His boss fell and instantly broke his neck. \n\nTim was terrified, but he was also thrilled. The anxiety and the weakness eventually faded, and he became bolder. He stole money from the company, and three employees died accidentally over the next year. Eventually, he would leave too after a false accident that lead to a class action lawsuit leading to millions for him. He continued to be mild mannered in public, but he plotted behind closed doors until he set his sights on one of the heroes around town, Catman. \n\nTaking Catman down didn't involve violence or any accidents. He found that he had a rampant sexual history with which he could smear his good name, paying prostitutes to say they had been assaulted by him and given diseases too. Tim operated so well in the shadows that the city didn't even know of his existence. With time, he could direct the entire country to do his bidding, but he didn't think of himself as the villain until he took down Ultra Man with a campaign about him being an illegal alien, blaming him single handedly for the influx of people who wanted a better life. Finally, he realized with this maneuver that he was in the big leagues and could take on anyone simply by crafting the right narrative, convincing the world that they were, in deed, the victims and the heroes were the perpetrators.", "\"Come on, Alec. Just a few more steps. That's it. One foot after the other.\"\n\nCaptain Tycho Novak of the 1st Loyalty Defenders had the other man's arm slung over his shoulder, helping him keep his weight off his bleeding leg. A mask of dried blood covered his eyes and rendered him blind.\n\n\"Ty- Ty what's gonna happen to us?\"\n\n\"Don't you worry, Alec, we'll be fine. They'll take us to a camp and we'll sit on our asses until they swap us in a prisoner exchange. You'll get a medico to look at that leg of yours and clean up that cut on your head.\"\n\nThey marched along with two hundred of so other prisoners, captured after having expended the last of their ammunition stores and their machines destroyed. They'd been assigned as the rearguard, to buy as much times as possible for the dropships to evacuate as many soldiers and civilians as they could cram in their holds. One company of regulars and a battalion of militia, holding off two whole Wolf Clusters for nearly five hours before the dropships escaped into the sky and away from the planet Corsicana. Only once the last ship was away did they throw down their weapons, satisfied at having done their duty. A day and a half later the Clanners roused them up from their makeshift prison, a barren stretch of field ringed with barbed wire and guards and got them marching. Waiting for them was hot showers and medical attention they were told.\n\nThe walking wounded limped along, the able bodied carried the maimed. Everyone shared in the burden. \n\nIt was the digging equipment that clued Captain Novak that something smelled rotten. Hostilities were over, there was no need for construction, especially here away from anything of strategic importance. The clanners marched them past the tall backhoes and industrial mechs, barking at the stragglers to keep up the pace. Novak saw what he expected some hundred feet onwards. \n\nA long ditch perhaps ten meters wide and five deep, a tall mound of dirt behind it. In front some forty meters away were five machine guns, their crews sitting behind them with cans of ammunition at hand and busy loading their weapons. They made the two hundred prisoners line up along the rim of the ditch, their laser rifles trained on them.\n\n\"What's going on, Tycho? Why'd we stop?\" Alexander Cromwell asked, still blinded with his own blood.\n\n\"Just taking a break, rest our legs a bit,\" Captain Novak lied, praying the strain in his voice did not show. \n\n\"Say, Alec?\"\n\n\"Hmm?\"\n\n\"You know that song about Jerusalem? Do you think you could sing it?\"\n\nAlec turned his sightless gaze at his friend, his brow rising.\n\n\"Now?\"\n\n\"Why not, I think we all could use a little pick up after today.\"\n\nThe limping man shrugged slightly and began to hum to find the pitch.\n\n \"And did those feet in ancient time \nWalk upon England's mountains green? \nAnd was the holy Lamb of God \nOn England's pleasant pastures seen?\" \n\n\nA few heads turned towards the wounded singer, confusion on their faces but kept silent; a distraction before the end.\n\n\"And did the Countenance Divine \nShine forth upon our clouded hills? \nAnd was Jerusalem builded here \nAmong those dark Satanic mills?\" \n\nThose who knew it began to pick up, adding a baritone and a bass line to the song. The Clan Wolf guards looked askew at their charges, unsure what this was. \n\n\"Bring me my bow of burning gold: \nBring me my arrows of desire: \nBring me my spear: O clouds unfold! \nBring me my chariot of fire.\" \n\nThe score or so singers crescendo-ed, knowing that this was the last time to hear music.\n\n\"I will not cease from mental fight, \nNor shall my sword sleep in my hand \nTill we have built Jerusalem \nIn England's green and pleasant lan-\" \n\nThe machine guns opened up. \n\n\n\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] Tomorrow is September 3rd, 2020. The 5th year anniversary of the day 'they' started appearing.	[ "A figure walks down the street, not all there; a sort of mist flickers about them, tinting the street on their other side blue. \n\n\"Happy New Hallow's Eve!\"\n\nTwo children, each no older than 12, greet each other in the setting sun. A boy and a girl, one white and one Native, stand on the dirt road leading into town. The figure continues walking towards the old bridge, the yellow police tape warning all who approach that the land beyond is: Forbidden. Sacred. Hallowed. \n\n\"Where do they go at night do you think?\" the girl asks, leaning in towards him. \"My dad says they go back home.\"\n\n\"Why would your dad know? They never talk.\"\n\n\"He watches them through binoculars, Jer. They go into the woods.\"\n\n\"Well I bet they don't have a home, they just wander around town because they have nothing better to do.\"\n\n\"Where do you think they go?\"\n\n\"I don't know, maybe other towns?\"\n\n\"What other towns?\"\n\nThe figure stands before the police tape. The two fall silent. The outline of its body in the sun is like a chalk drawing, flickering and full of holes. The tape is green in front of it. The sun continues to fall as Jer and Suz watch the figure, their shadows passing the railroad and growing. All is quiet except for the bumbling rumble of a tractor somewhere behind them. As the sun falls until it kisses the hill in the center of town their shadows bump against the tape. \n\nAnother figure walks past, ignoring the children. And another. There is no disturbance of the ground beneath their feet. They make no noise as they come beside their fellow. A fourth follows. \n\n\"I've never seen so many!\" Suz gasps. Jer is quiet. He hasn't either but as he watches the chalky figures flicker about unmoving he feels a stirring. Fear. Comfort. Passion\n\nUnknowable truth rears its head inside his own. \n\n\"Me neither,\" he says. \n\nThe sun becomes a crescent. A sliver. A speck.\n\nThe figures step through the tape as if it isn't there. \n\n\"So where do you think they go?\" He asks.\n\n\"I think they're lost.\"\n\n\"Yeah?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nThere's a slight gust of wind, carrying dust towards the tape. \n\n\"For five years?\"\n\n\"Mhm. Maybe they don't have a home anymore.\"\n\nThe figures are gone now. Disappeared into the night. With a crack, pop, hiss the street lamp above turns on, creating a short shadow hovering beneath them. Violin strings fill the air over the speakers. \n\n\"I think we should go home,\" Jer says. Suz turns to look at him, and for the briefest of moments their eyes catch. A flush crosses his face. They look away. \n\n\"I kind of want to follow them.\"\n\n\"If we leave the town at night we might get lost too, Suz.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I guess. Maybe someday? When we're older?\"\n\n\"Sure. When we're older.\"\n\n\"Promise?\"\n\nJer says nothing but grabs hold of her hands. That stirring from earlier picks up in him again. Suz stares at him. \n\nPromise.\n\n\"Yeah,\" he says. \"You're my best friend, Suz. If we're together we aren't really lost.\"\n\nSuz smiles and squeezes his hands. She kisses him on the cheek.\n\nShe misses.\n\nThey look at each other for a moment. \"Home?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nTwo kids, no older than twelve, boy and girl, walk home hand in hand. They split apart at the boy's house.\n\n\"Happy New Hallow's Day!\"\n\nTwo kids say good bye in the dark, in a small, old reservation town. The moon rises from behind the trees around it, white as chalk. The world is quiet other than the hum of electricity. Desolate. Alone. Lost.\n\nUnknowable truth rears its head inside their own. ", "I feel each year weigh heavy on me. My hair is prematurely grey, my beard long, the wrinkles on my face deep and long. I see Nathan walking down from the tower, spear slung over his back. \"Hey you old fart\" he says to me, \"old?\" I scoff, \" Im only 34!\" He chuckles and we settle into a silence as the realization that I am most likely the oldest one of us alive. \"you still remember when they came down from the sky, what it was like?\" He asks me. \"Of course I do Nat, I remember their ships descending from the clouds like some sort of Gods.\" I shudder at the memory. We continue walking to our sleep pods in a slow steady pace, the sky is beginning to darken. \"Those fucking humans took so much from us pete, what did they want with us, this was our planet!\" His voice increasing in volume. \" I know, I know.\" I whisper as we reach our pods and lay down." ]	2
	[WP] You are dead. You are in a room and must watch a video of your recent life caught only from every mirror, reflection, and lens you've encountered.	[ "I've always hated mirrors. It always felt like someone was watching me. Like me was watching me. But not me. A me somewhere else. A different dimension me. Which was why I never stared at a mirror too long, just in case my reflection got cheeky and winked at me. \n\nBut now that I'm dead, its all starting to make sense. I've been handed a ticket by what I assume to be an angel, and he said I'm ready to see the big show. I was confused at first, but as I sat and watched, what was at first a small baby, slowly transformed into the young face that was once mine. I tried to find my face to make sure it hadn't been stolen, but realized there was none left. \n\nI was watching my life. But not my whole life. Just clips. Every time I stepped in a mirror, it captured my soul. It recorded me. But not just like a movie. I could feel what was deep inside me. I hadn't remembered my life being as dark as I felt as time went by. There were plenty of times when I was happy. \n\nWhen I took that trip with my friends to Florida. We had a blast. But as I watched the mirror, I could feel the pain. It's strange how one of my fondest memories could have such a pain. And it seemed to be a common theme whenever I did step in front of a mirror. But what was it. Was I really this miserable. \n\nMy looks were never the best. I judged myself a lot when it came to outward appearance. Perhaps my fear of the mirror did not come from this irrational thought I had about other dimensions. Perhaps I was scared at the face of imperfection I always saw staring back. \n\nThe pain grew as my life went on. As I grew older and older, and the mirror face began to age and wrinkle, I could feel the weight that had been growing all those years. The life that I had enjoyed, was now being reflected towards the pain I had felt towards myself. \n\nI wished that I could take the pain away. Let myself know how little it meant. To love myself for who I was. But the slow pain made my own hell for me. I desperately wished to move to a mirror, not my own. To one of my friends, or a celebrity, or my father who always had is life together.\n\nBut that was the problem wasn't it? " ]	1
	[WP] One day, you decide to check your 12 year old sons internet history, and what you see is far, far worse than anything you would have expected.	[ "For once my son left his laptop in the open. He has always knew how good I was with computers, and for me, this was a jackpot.\n\nI silently pulled out the hard drive and went downstairs to hook it up. He still uses Windows 10, and it proves to be an easy peer-in. I browse into his appdata and copy the user data over to my personal appdata, it effectively creates a copy of everything in a changing state on his laptop.\n\nI open up Chrome, nothing significant on the front page, just Google's new logo. My attention shifts to what could be lying in the history. Immediately I press Ctrl-H, and the history library jumps open. The most recent item, an invalid IP address of 299.0.8.12. I click on this IP, and find some sort of directory, appearing to be for torrents.\n\nI go to the start menu and find uTorrent. I open it up and see pages upon pages of cracked software, pirated movies, and at the very top, a one \"antergos-minimal-2015.08.18-x86_64.iso.\".\n\nThis means that he has a dual-booting system. I shutdown my computer and restart into his hard drive. A fanciful GRUB2 menu greets me, and I opt to boot the Antergos system. The login had no password, thankfully. I don't think I could have cracked that.\n\nI turn my attention to the file manager and perform a Ctrl-H to see the hidden .* files. I find a suspicious \".conf\" folder next to the \".config\" folder. A Linux system doesn't need two configuration folders. I peer into the .conf folder and find tons of videos. I check the top one, and find it of him and his \"girlfriend\" going at it. This immediately sends up red flags since I know that they \"broke up.\"\n\nI go into Firefox and Ctrl-H, and the most recent results are from an obscure pornography site. I click the most recent one and find that it's a compilation of him and his \"girlfriend,\" with the title \"My son and his bitch.\"\n\nIs he trying to get me arrested? That's when I hear a knocking at the door with the bellowing of \"POLICE! OPEN UP!\"", "My son has been acting strange lately. Really, he's been acting so much worse than normal. Since he's 12, my husband and I figured it was possible it was just his age. But, we were also worried because we knew that starting his first year of middle school, he had made some new friends. Had they influenced his behavior? \n\nMy husband had the idea to check our son's phone after he went to bed. We could see his Facebook conversations, text messages, and any other media he had linked to the device. \n\nAfter we were sure he was peacefully asleep, we slipped it off the side of his bed and opened it up in our bedroom. There was nothing too exciting. Just he and his friends talking about their swim team, complaining about school and parents, and pretending they were all that by saying they were going to \"get to second base\" with whatever girl they were crushing on. Not necessarily something a mother wants to read, but my husband and I knew he was all talk. \n\nWe moved on to the internet, where he was able to pull up the browsing history. Of course, I wish I hadn't. Where had i gone wrong? After looking through various links listed together, I learned the horrifying truth about my baby boy. \n\nHe was a Donald Trump supporter. ", "\"Dad, I'm not four anymore. You don't need to tuck me in at night.\"\n\n\"It's fifty-degrees in here. Do you want to freeze to death without a blanket?\"\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nGeorge Warner Sr. let out a deep sigh when he finally heard his young's son's peaceful snores filling the hallway between their bedrooms. The old man had been tossing and turning all night long. He just couldn't get any sleep.\n\nSo, he decided to plan out what to do the next day. His wife would be out until Wednesday on some business trip. His son had a day off from school tomorrow. Oh, the possibilities.\n\nThe new amusement park would be open. Then again, his son never liked to get out anymore. The little kid did nothing except sit at his computer all day, talking to no one, and getting fat on greasy chips and soda. It would be nice to get him up and out once in a while.\n\nWhy, when George had been young, it was the norm to go catch a movie with friends, grab a burger, and play ball in the park. Was this the problem with all youths these days? The neighbors' kids had their part-time job at the grocer's. His brother's daughter was enrolled in some orchestral program down at her private school.\n\nSo why then, did his son, Jacob, did nothing of the sort? Mhmm. That'd be an interesting question to sleep on. \n\nBut alas, it was twelve at night and his eyes couldn't get a single wink. The man's minds was filled with all sorts of questions in planning for the upcoming day. What should be made for dinner tomorrow? How should he surprise his wife when she got back home? Did he still have clean buttplugs under the bed? Golly gee, this is turning a bit intense.\n\nWith heavy eyes and a jittery mind, George plopped himself out of his thick, fluffy bed and walked himself into the kitchen to make some coffee. Because that's always the best way to put yourself to sleep tonight.\n\nAs he made his way through the dining room into the kitchen, George had noticed a certain blue laptop, property of Jacob, sitting on the glass table where the family would always eat. Always used to at least, if only the kid would just come out of his room from time to time. \n\nIt was at this point where that strange impulse came over George. The odd, paternal sense of curiosity that filled a father's mind in one of two situations. The first was when a man should display some level of personal concern over the child's health, the usual sort. The second one, however, was a bit more crude and uncivilized.\n\nPut as a question, it was simply, \"What can I do to embarrass this little shit someday?\"\n\nGeorge's moral debate over the right to privacy soon ceased as he opened the metal flap up and powered the machine on, jogging into the kitchen to grind some of the fresh coffee beans. Expensive beans, mind you. George doesn't spend twelve hours a day down at the factory to toss some garbage dirt down his throat.\n\nIt always brought the father a slight sense of joy whenever he saw that piping-hot boiling water wet the dark grounds in his favorite, handmade \"#1 Father!\" mug that his son made in elementary-school ceramics, back when the Jacob's face was filled with joys and laughter each and every day. When the boy would always beg the father to go out to the park and play catch, tired and bleary-eyed eyed though he was.\n\nDing. Ding. Ding.\n\nThe boy's computer was on. Oooh, what fun awaited the man in the immediate hour and a half! George's thick, heavy finger's tapped away at the silent, rubber-padded keys until the screen arrived a log-in sequence.\n\nWhat could the pass probably be?, thought George as he bit down on his fingernails, hoping for an answer. Luckily for him, there was a password hint up for grabs.\n\n“By means of it one gets through many a dark night.”\n\nGeorge thought and thought over the little passage. It looked like it was from a book. He'd certainly heard it before back when he was in college. But, what could it possibly mean.\n\nHe shrugged his shoulders and went into the kitchen to grab his thick, sludgelike coffee, gulping the black slop down his throat as he contemplated his choices. He had ten chances, after all. Then again, there was nothing left to go on-\n\nOh wait, duh. He'd prepared for cases like this. That's what the infected flash drive and tech lessons were for anyway. George pulled out his smartphone and pulled up some huge block of black and white text that turned out to hold the computer passwords around the house. A convenient product of the twenty-first century. No such thing as privacy anymore. No confidence in anyone or trust at all!\n\nGeorge returned to the laptop and typed in the pass. (It was none other that \"nietzsche\". Kids these days and their apathetic philosophy.) Jackpot! He was in!\n\nOf course, being the kind, understanding father he was, George immediately searched around Jacob's folders for porn. To his surprise, there was no password lock on any of the folders. Why, even he locked up his own files when he knew his wife was going to be on it!\n\nTap. Tap. Tap. At this time, Jacob had decided to get up and access the desktop in his room. Like father, like son. George left the boy be to focus on snooping through his laptop.\n\nThen, an mischievous thought entered George's mind. What would happen if he took a peek at his son's search history? Oh, the laughs he'd have at what might be there. Perhaps a facebook page of Jacob's 'just friends' pasted on the favorite's bar. Maybe a craigslist listing for weed or crack! What magical surprise awaited him ahead!\n\nGeorge clicked on the Google icon at the bottom, filling his eyes with a shining white as the browser revealed his contents. The father's hand moved his son's mouse to access the recent history listing. He could hardly contain his excitement.\n\nThe first thing he saw under the Google entries was a rather peculiar [webpage](http://lostallhope.com/).\n\nHe stopped, closed his son's laptop, dumped the rest of his coffee into the sink, and forced himself to close his eyes and go to sleep.\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] You invent a time machine, but it can only go back as far as 2006.	[ "For fuck's sake who made this operating system? Oh yeah Apple! SET THE COORDINATES FOR CUPERTINO JANUARY 1ST 2006. {boop boop beep boop}\n\nI NEED TO TALK TO THE BOSS\n\n\"xcuse me how did you get in here, I need to ask you to leave\"\n\nBITCH LOOK IN MY HAND, IT'S AN IPHONE 6 AND IT'S HUGE.\n\n\"My God, look how the camera lens is protruding – quickly, follow me!\"\n\nWe arrive at Steve Job's Zen Buddism temple where he is whipping a small chinese boy.\n\nSTEVE YOU MOTHERFUCKER SAFARI JUST CRASHED WHILE I WAS TYPING THIS AND I HAD TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN. (that part is absolutely true) ALSO YOUR SHITTY FUTURE OS WON'T LET ME TRAVEL BACK IN TIME BEYOND 2006 BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE THE CORRECT PERMISSIONS!\n\n\"Well what's so great about 2005? A Republican congress, no new Doctor Who episodes, what are you complaining about?\"\n\nNo! He's warping reality around me! I need to do something drastic!\n\nLOOK AT WHAT'S IN MY HAND!\n\n\"No. No you're trying to trick me. Look at the size of that thing.\"\n\nLET ME UNLOCK IT FOR YOU\n\n\"The icons... they look so... gay... \"\n\nONE MORE THING\n\nIt kills me to have to do this but I give him a tour of Apple Music.\n\nSteve Jobs summons Tim Cook and shoots him with an uzi. Brains go flying everywhere.\n\nI say \"Steve, I know you're a colossal prick but this is your way out. I have a time machine. You don't have to rule the universe, you could just see it, we could see it together, it would be my honor. Just tell me how to change the fucking permissions on this motherfucking folder\". \n\nSteve calls up some sweaty, terrified employees and they fix the bug. We go traveling through space and time together.\n\nThe end.\n\n\n", "This time machine sucks, Past Me.\n\nI'll say. THIS is what happens? I get HOW bald?\n\nThis bald. Sorry. Unavoidable. But at least you don't get hit by a bus like Steve does in three years.\n\nWhat?\n\nDon't bother warning him. I mean, you do, but it won't help. I remember all this shit from when I was you 9 years ago.\n\nThen what am I--\n\ngonna say next?\n\nDammit.\n\nRight. But let's not let that get in the way of a good story. (Winks to the fourth wall). Although really, none of this won't help. You just don't listen. You never listen, especially to yourself. And that's the most important person of all. Well, this is pointless.\n\nBut you didnt even try!\n\nAnd neither will you." ]	2
Not sure if this has done before but I would love to hear your takes on a "different" kind of immortality! Every time you die you have a new face/body/name but same conscious.	[WP] You are immortal but not in the traditional sense. When you die your presence rebirths in another body.	[ "My partner came back to where I sat crouched behind our police car. A ring of cars and their flashing lights surrounded the main st bank.\n\n\"How's it going?\" I asked him.\n\nHe shook his head. \"Hostage taker is a real piece of work. They got his mom on the phone trying to reason with him but...I think this is going to end badly.\"\n\nBefore I could answer a shout went up. The hostage taker was emerging from the bank. He was dressed in all black carrying an AR-15. He strode out bold as could be and started firing. I ducked back down, but not before making eye contact with him. The sounds of gun fire echoed all around me, shouts, but my hand was steady. I looked back over the top of my squad car, aimed, squeezed, fired.\n\nMaybe it was my shot, maybe it was someone else's. But the perp dropped instantly. I felt myself collapse to my knees, told myself to get up, but my body wouldn't respond.\n\n\"Hey, Ray, you okay?\" asked my partner. \n\nI tried to tell him I couldn't get up. Instead my mouth said, \"I'm fine. I just need a moment to let the adrenaline go.\"\n\nMy partner nodded. Told me he'd be right back after he took care of something and then we could head back to the station since we'd already stayed past our shift. My head nodded. \n\nWhen my partner's back was turned I pulled out my wallet and flipped to my license. Ray Smith, it said. My eyes focused on my address, then flipped my wallet closed and put in back in my pocket.\n\nWe got back to the station and started filling out reports.\n\n\"And they haven't been able to find the money. We're not sure what the guy did with it,\" said one of the officers. My face smiled as my body turned away. My mouth started whistling. \n\nWhen we finally got out of there I watched as my body drove back to the scene of the crime. It parked behind the bank then went up the fire escape to the roof. It dislodged some stone masonry and tucked behind was a black duffel bag. My hands opened the bag, counted the stacks of bills, then slung the bag over my shoulder and returned to the parked car.\n\nMy hands typed the address from my license into the GPS of a phone that had been in the bag. And then drove me home. I watched and silently screamed as this stranger had dinner with my wife and kids. Then when everyone had gone to bed for the night, went into the garage, found a shovel, and buried the bag of money in my backyard. \n\nI was back inside washing the dirt of my hands when I heard a movement behind me.\n\n\"Daddy?\"\n\nMy body smiled and turned around, sliding my gun from my shoulder holster. The sleepy look on my 6 year old's face was replaced by horror. We made eye contact, then I felt the muzzle of the gun against my own temple.", "I had to be careful where I died. It made it harder to survive if I didn't know the language of the host body. \n\nLuckily Kondo Sakura was someone easily acquired. She had stumbled upon my body and crouched down beside me. I must have looked so strange to her, freckles dappled across my face, hair such a lurid orange. I was dressed in an American flag shirt, thick arm draped across a flat chest. I hated being a man. Hated looking like a square with legs. \n\nShe was perfect, she wanted to help. When I took the knife out of my side, I had just the right moment to jump into her mind before the choice was taken from me. I had not picked Eddy Gruelle but I could pick this girl. \n\nI took over her body, covered her flame with my darkness, and engulfed her. I took her memories as my own, gather her language and her importance. By the time her mind moved into Eddy the body was almost dead. I gave her all the horrible truths about mortality--it ended so cruelly. \n\nShe looked up at me with a strange innocence. Then the heart stopped and she was gone. Sakura no longer existed. But I knew her, I owned her, and we were the same now. \n\nI returned to her life. But I made it my own. \n\n" ]	2
Interpret that as you will. Whether they are unnoticeable to everyone or just you is entirely left up to you. Hope to see some good ones!	[WP] Ignoring someone means they become unnoticeable forever.	[ "Mae\n\nba-bum\n\nMae\n\nba-bum\n\nMae\n\nba-bum\n\nM-\n\nHe couldn’t get her name out of his head. It had been 7 weeks, 3 days, and 6 hours and nothing had stopped it. He could see the way her lips formed around the M and hear how the syllable fell from her lips and drifted to him. From the moment that they met he knew that he loved her. He knew that he wanted to be her reason to live. He wanted to be her life-line.\n\nBut now everything was different. Now he had to forget her. Had to forget late nights, tangled sheets, heavy rain outside the window. He had to forget Mae. ba-bum\n\nHe shook his head, ran a hand over his face and through his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his face in that position until he saw stars. He dug his fingernails into his palms. He coughed, setting free a sob in his throat. \n\nHe opened his eyes and straightened his body. He glanced down at his phone, shot her a quick text.\n\n“What did I do wrong?”\n\nHe watched the blue bar at the top of the screen race to the other end and then halt before it could reach it. He scrolled up, barely seeing the barrage of previous messages punctuated with little red exclamation marks. The bright screen became a blur of blue and white and red little marks. Until he saw it. The last message that she had ever sent him. It was a voice message. It was sweet and bitter and lovely and heartbreaking and he couldn’t stop himself before his finger was tapping the screen and his heart was screaming and he could feel his soul begging to listen to it and--\n\n“Hey Brandon. I just wanted to say hi! And let you know that I may not be around for a while but I love you so, so much. Thank you for what we have and for all of these experiences. I’m sorry that things are… Well I’m just sorry. Remember how you feel about me, okay? Remember me.”\n\nHe closed his eyes again. The words didn’t matter anymore. He had heard it all before. He had heard it all before. He had heard it all before. Everything in his life was a broken record. She was all that he had and now there were unanswered texts, unanswered messages, phone calls, knocks on the door. He had tried it all.\nHe had felt himself fade. She was all he had. Her name kept his heart beating. Her absence ruined his life.\n\nHe reached for the cool steel on the table in front of him. His fingers danced around it, fitting into hand holds and fingers sliding over the trigger and he remembered what it was like when the world was so full of color and he remembered the way that her eyes shone and he remembered the first day that he had walked down the street and realized that people didn’t see him anymore and it had been only a couple of days but he knew that it was her and that she was letting him fade but he couldn’t let her fade from his memory and he picked up the heavy cool metal and he pressed the hollow roundness to his temple and he wished for his name to be thought just once more not so that he could live but so that he could be visible again for just a second and he waited.\n\nAnd he waited.\n\nAnd he…\n\nHe waited.\n\nAnd he gripped harder.\n\nAnd he squeezed his eyes shut.\n\nAnd he pressed the trigger.\n\nAnd he felt.\n\nHe felt the pain and he was grateful.\n\nHe had faded. \n\nAnd now there was no more of him left to fade.", "James' eyes shot open and his head perked up. He thought he'd heard something. A sound of some sort. Maybe a voice. He looked at all the other people seated on the train. Yeah, most likely a voice, nothing to worry about. His eyes started to drift back to a close.\n\nWithin seconds James' eyes shot open again. This time to screams. All the passengers were staring at him with frightened eyes. No. Not him. They were staring behind him. James turned around to see a woman. Well half a woman. Her lower body was gone. The rest was slowly fading. \n\nJames watched in horror, \"Oh my god, that voice, that was you?\" \n\nThe woman nodded, \"I asked if you could move over so I could sit down.\"\n\n\"I'm- I'm so sorry!\"\n\nA tear rolled down the woman's cheek, onto her chin, and then faded into nothingness along with the rest of the woman. She was gone. Just like that. James just stared. Right where the woman was just seconds ago. It was his fault she was gone. Her friends, her family, they'll never see her again. And James now has to live with that for the rest of his life. " ]	2
	[WP] You never wanted to be a child prodigy anyway	[ "I remember it was freshmen year of university, and I was hanging out with Jennifer in her dorm room, when Kristin stopped by.\n\nThey both had amazing bodies. Jennifer was taller, a soccer player, and had nice cleavage, but Kristin was a dancer who knew how to wear makeup and tease. In fact, both of them were taller than me, at least for a few more years. Jennifer was a religious studies major and part of the devout Christian clique. Kristin was decidedly not.\n\n\"Mark!\" Kristin called through the door. \"Don't forget, you're Jen's guest in this room. If she wants to suck you off, you say, 'Yes, ma'am!' and whip it out. Understood?\"\n\nI grinned widely and said \"Yes, ma'am.\"\n\nJennifer looked horrified. \"Kristin, I'm not a pedophile!\"\n\nI never wanted to be a teenaged prodigy anyway.", "It started like a clash of thunder, the storm of the millennium. And I, the shell-shocked infant who could hear neither his mother howling at him through tears or his father shouting at the nurse, was born in this storm. My childhood was a torrent of explosions and I was the epicenter, ground zero. I could hear nothing over the relentless noise. My parents kept me at home as I was prone to tears whenever the noise got the better of me. But eventually, I got the better of it, and through the bursts of thunder, I could hear the murmurs. \n\nI didn't know what they were for the longest time. The noise was no longer disarrayed thunder, but a symphony of chaos. I could hear the screeches of metal, the percussive beatings, and the steady whines. And then I heard my mother asking my father if I'd ever be able to go to school. I told them that I'd like to, and they stared at me as if I was crazy. Another rush of thunder overwhelmed me, but I realized that it was emanating from my mother. A quick pulse of beats: thud-thud-thud. I stared at her. Thudthudthudthudthud. \n\n\"Ma?\"\n\nMy father walked past me, into the kitchen, heading towards the phone. I could hear his joints creak as he walked by. They sounded like ancient windows being pried open. I could hear his muscle fibers tightening and relaxing, like picking on the strings of a harp. \n\n\"Wait right there son. It'll all be okay.\" THUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD\n\nHe was lying. And I could hear it in his own heart. I didn't stay in that house for long, and it was my own fault. I made the mistake of explaining to the doctors what I thought was going on: that I could somehow hear it all, everything. At first, it was a curse. But now they tell me that it's a mixed blessing, that I could use my \"gift\" to serve my homeland. \n\nAnd here I am now, sitting in a small room that looks more like a modified jail cell in an underground bunker \"serving my homeland.\" And just like the past 34 days, they'll call me soon, and put me in a dark room with a man with a black hood over his head. A gruff man in a uniform will hit the hooded man and ask him questions. Then he'll turn to me. I'll either nod or shake my head. Either way, he'd hit the hooded man again. I never speak. Not in this terrible place away from home, away from my mom and dad. Of all the noises I hear, it seems my own voice is the one I hear the least. I just want the noises to stop. ", "This pressure wasn't a fun kind of pressure.\n\nAll of my life, I knew I didn't fit in. I coasted through elementary school, since I taught myself everything years in advance. Everyone hated me. The community was heavily homogenous, and I wasn't good enough at sports. People bullied me out of everything from sports teams to the entire school. I came up with massive elaborate plots and excuses to avoid school.\n\nThis was no way to live. I'd hit a wall, I couldn't learn or grow anymore. I felt inferior. I felt like a failure. My brain was all I had, and the world would take that all away. IQ is a number, nothing else. \"Genius\" my ass, you can't succeed on natural talent alone.\n\nAs the knife went into my chest, I laughed. If the world would take everything away from me, I'd take myself away from the world. I never wanted to live this way. Who would ever want this curse?\n\nEverything went black. I had finally won against myself.\n\nOr had I lost?", "They call me a genius. Please, Ma, it's not genius. There never was genius. Either that or 'A Child Prodigy'. To them it was simply an alternative to ' A Genius', and they did so with the same carelessness and the same stupid look as Ma and everyone else.\n\nThose who knew what my life was like would rather refer to me as a child prodigy, and they'd do so because only they understood that there was nothing more to it than that, and they did so out of sympathy and respect, with a gentle look that seemed to reach out and pat me on the shoulder.\n\nI hate that too, but I'm secretly grateful - to my tutor and the people I rehearsed with. I can take some solace in those precious few moments.\n\nI sat before the pendulum since before I could remember, and my mother would 'monitor my schedule'. I didn't attend kindergarten, nor grade school like the other kids, instead my mother would coach me on music theory from 6 to 9, a tutor would teach me English, Mathematics, Sciences and the likes until early afternoon. Everything else would be cello practice under my mother until evening. I rarely went outside, and when I did it was in a car headed towards either a concert hall or a music store.\n\nShe did so tirelessly, for years, and I did so too. That made me a good boy in her books. I'd work hard just for her to call me the next 'Amadeus!'. I have no idea what that means, but I learnt that it meant I did a good job, and I wagged my tail. I must have spent 16 hours a day on music for nearly every single day before I turned 12. And how many years has it been since? I have forgotten, and I care not to remember. Would anyone remember how many years it was since they first walked? Since they first learnt to talk? \n\nI was granted vacation for only several days a year - for Christmas, for my birthday, and for academic tests and concerts that I was to attend. But soon she forgot when my birthday was, and I did too. I stopped looking forward to Christmas, and felt uneasy without my instrument. Tests and concerts were just rituals to perform, like going to the dentists or to the music store. I lived for the next performance, and the next performance, and the concert at some hall, and the next performance and the annual grade test.\n\nThe Masters of Ceremony had long forgotten my name, and it was either A Genius or A Child Prodigy. I knew what it meant to be a genius or a prodigy ('A very good performer who practices very hard and can play better than anyone!'), but what does it mean to be a child, when does one stop being a child? What then? I never knew. \n\nWhen I turned 16, a letter from a faraway land wrote that my mother died from cancer. I was wondering where she went off to all that time, employing a tutor to take over and assuring me that it was because 'I had long surpassed her' and that she wanted to take a 'vacation overseas for some time'. \n\nMy aunt took me in, and I stopped going to concerts and performances. I laid low and went to school, and soon I discovered a life beyond the apartment I left, beyond concerts and performances and music stores. One day my aunt told me about my mother, and I finally understood her intentions. I didn't cry, nor did I feel regret or guilt. I pitied her, and I went on with life. Sometimes, I'd take out the dusty black cello case from the storeroom and play a tune for old times sake. Between the stokes of bow I'm reminded me of my mother. I imagine she had passed away with a smile speaking of no regret in some hospice far away from home, in her final moments praising herself for a lifetime put to good use. \n\nPerhaps she thought I would be happy this way, because she had suffered grief for not being able to achieve what she raised me up to be. But I would have been a lot happier otherwise. Even under a single mother, even if we're impoverished. I would be happy otherwise. \n\nI never wanted to be a child prodigy anyway.", "The burden of knowledge lies heavy on me. \n\nAs I sit in my room, I am flooded by daily requests. \n\"Improve my business quarter\"\n \"Fortify the borders\"\n\"Prove the existence of god\"\n\"Disprove the existence of god.\"\n\nA million voices and a billion problems. Its not that I can't help them. Its just that I can't help them all. For every Economy I choose to save, another one tanks from neglect. Once the world knew of my Midas touch, of my genius, they wanted me to themselves. But even a child prodigy can't be everywhere.\n\nThey are becoming too reliant on me. My intellect is a crutch too them. My shoulders too fragile to support my bustling backpack now carry a dozen economies, 20 Fortune 500 companies and the the achievements of every nobel laureate of the past 5 years. \n\nI am tired of it. Humanity is a baby bird that refuses to leave its nest. I cannot keep on feeding their hunger. Something needs to be done. \n\n'If god bleeds, people stop believing in him'\n\nThey need to see me fail. To see me proved wrong. I am afraid that would be quite a painful affair. \n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nNEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS : GLOBAL NEWS TODAY\n\n\"March 1st - Boy genius Mcquaid declares a controversial hypothesis: Earth at the centre of the Universe. Was the church right\"\n\n\"March 5th - Astrologers disprove the Mcquaid's hypothesis exhaustively. Results corroborated by International Panel. Suppose even geniuses have an off day!\"\n\n\"March 8th - Mcquaid's invents ground-breaking new anti-cancer drug. Expect good news soon\"\n\n\"March 15th - The wonder drug has zero effects on cancer. Does cause a severs case of diarrhea. Maybe the kid isn't so smart\"\n\n\"March 20th - Mcquaid calls Kanye West speech at the Grammys to be the best demonstration of Black advocacy. He hails Kanye superior even to Martin Luther King.\"\n\n\"March 21st - Ok. The kid is an idiot. Mcquaid's laurels under investigation. Wonder-kid fired from Harvard. Parents blamed for Mcquaid's lack of common sense.\"\n\n\"April 1st - The first ever science conference held after 5 years in Paris. This is the first time that experts of this caliber are meeting to solve some of world's most serious problem, after they all became nearly useless after advent of Mcquaid's work\"\n\n\"December 31st - Next boy wonder found? Chinese whiz kid astounds world?\" \n", "The instrument is beautiful. \n\nMy fingertips trace its whorled surface, feeling along the wood, searching for any hint of roughness, any splinter to break the illusion of perfection. I find none, of course. I wouldn't. Not the way he took care of it. A week ago, I'd stumbled into his room while in need of a pencil and caught him polishing it, caressing each individual string, touching and brushing and stroking with the same infinitesimal care an artist possesses. Sitting there, eyes narrowed in concentration, it was easy to see that he was lost in his own little world, pouring his soul into the instrument that sat on the table before him. Watching him, I felt an abrupt shock shiver down my spine: he looked normal. Happy, almost. Happy like he hadn't been for a while.\n\nI left without the pencil.\n\nMy brother couldn't play. He'd freely admitted as much to me, but it didn't stop him from trying. Many a time, I would be bent over half-a-dozen textbooks, trying in vain to process math and science and history, all while an unearthly screeching sounded from the room not ten feet from mine. \n\n\"I don't know how you do it,\" he'd say with a forced half-smile when I finally knocked on his door and asked him to please stop, because I couldn't memorize Fermat's little theorem with that noise grating on my eardrums. And to tell the truth, I didn't know how I did it either. Neither did our parents. But that didn't stop them from pushing me into recitals, into competitions. At first, I fought them, as every child is wont to do. I wanted to go for soccer, for debate, for swimming. In the end, though, I always found myself back on the stage, bow in hand, instrument resting on the hollow of my shoulder.\n\nSo I stopped fighting. It was easier to go along with it, I reasoned. And, anyway, it's not like I hated the thing. There was something about being on stage, something about the grace of the elbow drop, that first movement that causes the strings to vibrate, high and clear and pure as ringing crystal. I could lose myself in it, become one with the music until the last note faded into the thunder of applause. My parents would beam at me as my shelves filled with trophies, ignoring the groundbreaking research into artificial intelligence my brother was conducting. When it was time for me to go off to college, they urged me to consider Berklee and were disappointed instead when I opted to pursue a technical degree in Computer Science - at Stanford. There was definitely irony in that.\n\nMy brother, despite everything, was thrilled when I chose his school. He spent the first few weeks of college introducing me, his little sister, to everybody. As a junior, he was already a member of several clubs and was relatively popular on campus, so I had the benefit of his connections. I joined everything from investment to volleyball, a sport I’d tried exactly once in high school and was absolutely terrible at. I did not join the orchestra. Needless to say, my first year was incredible.\n\nAnd then, just as my sophomore year began, my brother met her.\n\nI didn’t like her. Neither did my parents. She was traditionally pretty – long dark hair, with eyes the color of spring leaves and skin that was just the right shade of fair – but she was conniving, self-centered, and manipulative. When my brother called me up to tell me that he’d asked her out, I thought it was a joke.\n\nBut it wasn’t. They dated for two years, and, in his eyes, she could do no wrong. Not when she stole money from his wallet and lied about it to his face. Not when she went home with a track star after a night out, only coming back to their shared apartment the next day. Not when she constantly belittled him about his near-religious practice habits just because he would spend hours at a time trying to get the fingering right on a particular section of Mozart . The last straw turned out to be, perversely, his fault: he’d missed one too many calls from her because he had his phone turned off. Because he was watching me perform, for the first time in years, at a coffee shop. \n\nHe didn’t take the breakup well. He said he was over it, of course, but I could see it in his eyes sometimes: a broken, haunted look that sent a pang through me every time I noticed. I hated her even more for that. \n\nYears passed. I graduated, and went on to work, as my brother had, with artificial intelligence. By sheer luck, I even managed to land a job in the same facility he worked in. We'd pass each other from time to time, and when our gazes would meet I'd still see the shards in his eyes, pieces of a broken heart. But I held out hope. \n\nAnd then one day, when I clocked out from a late-night shift, I heard the whispers.\n\nJumped, they said. From 4A. They say it was a suicide - \n\nAt first, I dismissed the rumors. Thousands of people worked in the facility - it was entirely possible that someone had leaped down from the first floor and the rumor had been magnified tenfold, escalating off of the entirely-human tendency to imagine the worst possible scenario. But something at the back of my mind rebelled against the thought, causing an icy finger to trace its way down my spine.\n\nThat was when I passed Building 4A and saw the ambulance, the figure lying spread-eagled on the ground. Even from a distance, I knew in the way only a sibling or parent can know. \n\nI don't remember crying. Is that strange? I don't remember much at all, actually. Just holding him, gasping his name while somebody tried to get in contact with our parents. The company offered me grief leave, but I quit instead: I couldn't bear to be around the place where it had happened.\n\nThen, the funeral. I remember that, at least. It was a small affair, with only two dozen or so people. I dressed in black, like I had for so many of my recitals in the past. My parents asked me to play for it. I said no, thank you. They insisted. They threatened. They begged. But I was no longer young, no longer naïve. I knew, deep down, even though he’d openly deny it to anyone who asked, he wouldn’t have wanted it. \n\nSo I didn’t.\n\nThe instrument is heavy in my hand. I’ve only held it once before – he would never let me. The strings thrum with just the right amount of tension, an echo of another time, long ago.\n\nHe’d left it to me in his will, you know. For my sister, who can play better than I ever will be able to. \n\nThat’s what he wrote. \n\nThe bow falls from my numb hands and clatters against the floor. I go with it, the willpower to remain standing fleeing from me like music from a violin that will never, ever sing again.\n\nI never wanted this. \n", "A YouTube video. That's how this all started. I sang a little bit of a song, my parents thought it was entertaining, and they put it on YouTube. That's. It.\n\nFast-forward one year.\n\nI'm on fucking Ellen talking about how well my first album is doing and when my first tour will be. Oh yeah, learned 'fucking' from my agent who is a total asshat. Learned that one from him, too. The inevitable question of 'how I'm juggling school and success together' comes up. I tell them what my agent told me to say, \"It's hard, but I know I can persevere!\"... Still don't know what that last word means. The crowd aws and ohs, wishing how their child could be as precious and talented as me.\n\nFast-forward another year.\n\nI look out at the faces of all of these kids who look up to me as a sing on stage. Them not knowing I just smoked weed for the first time backstage. After all, I needed something to take off the pressure of all those expecting this shit out of a goddamn 13-year old. I sing my heart out to them, lyrics laced with shitty rhythms, covering up the true meaning behind the song. No one has yet been able to discern this as a plea for help. Dammit.\n\nFast-forward 10 years.\n\nI sit on a shitty ass sofa, drugged up hooker leaning into my embrace and making me feel some semblance of emotion. We watch on my crappy TV on how I fell from graces due to my drug-addiction, how my music has literally been erased from the public's mind. How I went wrong with my life. They interview my mother who says, \"We don't know what happened...\" Of course you did you fucking bitch, you threw me into the spotlight as a kid who couldn't handle it. She still blames all of this on me, but she's so quick to claim the fame that I brought her.\n\nYou gave me everything anyone could ever want, everything anyone could ever need.\n\nYet there's one thing I never had that everyone else did.\n\nA childhood...\n\nI never wanted to be a child prodigy anyway...\n", "I ran my fingers along the shelf leaving a trail in the dust behind. The dark wooden plank my father attached to the wall so many years ago was still adorned with the same old family photos. I grabbed one of the larger frames and used the side of my fist to wipe it's glass clean. The side of my mouth began to slowly curl into a smile as the memories of my youth flowed back into my mind. It was a picture of both my parents like I hadn't seen them in so many years; together. They were so happy. Smiling from ear to ear and strolling along the beach enjoying their time with the only thing they loved more than each other, their daughter. \n\nI could feel a tear slowly running down my cheek, a manifestation of my grief mixing with thoughts of the past. I slide the picture into the large box on the floor full of my dad's other old possessions. Satisfied that the picture was safe from damage, I reached back onto the shelf and began wiping more photos clean. As you progress though the years of photos, my mother slowly disappears but my father's love for his daughter never wavers. My mother's shelf was the same way when we cleaned out her belongings. Although they had a lot of differences, they both agreed that God had given them a gift together that deserved all the love in the world. A gift that graduated high school by the time most children enter middle school. One that could memorize a textbook in the time it would take a normal child to watch a cartoon, who quickly became a leader of her field expected to change the world through scientific breakthroughs. One who's sharp mind desired an escape from perfectionism above all else. A gift that couldn't bear the loss of her parents and turned to drugs and alcohol to dampen the pain. A daughter that should have been so much, pushed hard enough to fold. \n\nI miss my parents almost as much as I miss my older sister.", "Looking back, it was probably all of the in-utero Mozart. From the moment she'd pissed on that ruddy stick to the moment I emerged, kicking and screaming, all I'd heard was some prick who'd been dead for two hundred-odd years. I won't lie to you, I'd rather have developed my cognition to Moby, or Jay Z. I can't listen to them. They have swears in.\n\nI mean, of course, it helped. By six I'd taken every bloody test they'd thrown at me and, stupidly, I'd passed them all. There were special classes, MENSA meetings, even a Ted Talk, all hosted by someone who still couldn't go on Toontown without his parents' email address.\n\nJava, C++, Python, I could work with them all, designing beautiful programmes with complex functions whilst still learning what noise the cow makes at school.\n\nIt's moo, by the way.\n\nLife works differently when you don't want to be the centre of attention. I wanted to curl up in my room and watch Fairly Odd Parents all day, stay up late until like, 9pm, and eat ice cream straight from the tub.\n\nNo such luck.\n\nI'm nine years old and I'm sat taking my bloody Further Maths A Level. I don't even need to check the answers I write and, hopefully, nobody else will.\n\n67 65 78 32 73 32 66 69 32 78 79 82 77 65 76 32 78 79 87 63\n" ]	9
	[WP] You switch places with an alternate universe version of yourself. Everything in the alternate universe is exactly the same as yours but something is different and you can't quite put your finger on it.	[ "Yawning, Ben stepped into his bedroom. When he saw the bed was made he shook his head. Obvious his mum had been in again, because he never made the bed, no matter how many times she nagged him about it. As far as he was concerned there was no reason for him to. The bed was only going to get messy again when he slept in it. Shrugging, he made his way over to the desk, wanting to check and make certain he had everything ready for the morning, knowing there was one essay he needed to finish off at lunch. It took him a couple of second to realise they weren’t in the same order they had been before. The order he thought they’d been in, anyway, but it was entirely possible he’d remembered it wrong. Sometimes it happened. He pushed the thought aside. His essays being in a different order didn’t matter.\n\n“Ben?” His sister stood at the door, peering into the room. “Mum had to go to work. She wanted me to let you know, because she said she thinks it’s going to be a late one, and she didn’t want to wake you.”\n\nNodding, Ben smiled. “Thanks, Mare.” That was when he noticed her hair band was a different colour to before. He glanced over at the papers in the desk, then looked back at her, wondering if something strange had happened. Doing his best not to make it seem like he was bothered by anything he took a couple of steps towards the door. “Did I leave an essay downstairs?”\n\n“I don’t think so.”\n\n“Neither did I, but I’m missing one. Maybe Mum moved it.”\n\n“She did say she’d been in earlier to make your bed. You know what she’s like - she probably got a little overenthusiastic and blew your essays all over the place. Check the pile again. I’ll have a quick look downstairs for you.”\n\n“Would you?” He’d wanted to go downstairs himself, but maybe he’d be able to work out what had happened from upstairs. “You’re a wonderful sister.”\n\nLaughing, Mary shook her head. “There was a time when you believed I was the most annoying sister in the world.”\n\n“Everyone grows up.”\n\nWhen he was certain she was gone he went through all the papers on his desk. The essays were definitely in a different order, but it would have been easy enough for his mum to do as Mary had said. It was just weird to think that was different and Mary’s hair band had changed since he’d left her downstairs. It couldn’t have been longer than five minutes, so there was no time for her to change it. Sighing, he pushed it all to the back of his mind, and waited for Mary to return. In her hand she held a piece of paper he knew he hadn’t left downstairs.\n\n“You might need this for the morning.” Their eyes met and he took the paper from her. “I’m going to head to bed. Night.”\n\n“Night.”\n\nFor a few seconds Ben didn’t look down at the paper, because he didn’t want to know he was right. Eventually he did and that was when he knew. His English class had been reading a different book to the one the essay was on. Well, that was going to make things interesting.", "I laid my head down on my desk, tired from a long day of classes. Exhausted, I thought about all the homework I had and cursed myself for scheduling my classes late every day. As I grew frustrated with my lack of time I took a glance at my computer's clock.7:06 PM. Okay.\n\n Wait, what?\n\nThat's not right. 10 minutes ago it was 6:56 PM. And now it should be... Yes, 7:06. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake the weird feeling that it was the wrong time. Oh well. \n\nI opened up my school email to check the rubric for a presentation I hadn't yet started on. As I scrolled through the list of instructions I realized I didn't actually know when this thing was due. I searched the page until I found it. October 7th. Alright. \n\nHold on, no.\n\nOctober 7th? That doesn't make sense. Do we have classes that day? Yeah, it's a Wednesday. But that date doesn't work for me because--\n\n7? Did that number exist before today?", "I woke up in my room, and groggily switched off my alarm. Saw the time, 5:45, ugh! School!\n\nI get up from my bed, rubbing my eyes, but something felt a little different. I just thought it was nothing, maybe just the tiredness talking. I get into the warm shower, and get ready to leave.\n\n~~~~~~\n\nFirst lesson was English, and the task today was to write an essay on Macbeth, the most boring play to ever exist, and to top that off on the first day of school this week, add that with the sleepiness, and that's my world for you.\n\nWhatever. I picked up my pen and began writing. For some reason, the pen felt weird, almost as if it didn't fit my fingers. I adjusted my pen and continued writing, not thinking too much about it. If I don't finish the essay before the end of the lesson, I get detention, and would have to come back in lunch to finish the essay.\n\nSoon, just before the lesson was over, I finished it and walked over to the teacher's desk and handed in the essay. Hope I didn't do too bad. My handwriting seemed shabby. That damn pen!\n\nNot that big a deal, the teacher will only make a small remark on my handwriting, but it's not like I will lose marks over it.\n\nMy favourite lesson was coming up! MUSIC! I love playing the drums, and right now, the class is working in groups to make songs of our own creation. In my group, I play the drums, and have been playing drums as a hobby for 6 years.\n\nOnce we got down to practice, well, again, the drumsticks felt really weird holding. Not at all on my left hand, but my dominant hand, my right hand, felt weird. I couldn't spin the drumstick and look cool, and even during practice, I kept dropping the stick. It had never happened before. Something was off. I could tell. I couldn't tell what it was, but something was weird. I played the best I could, and tried not to drop the stick, to no avail.\n\nI just waited for the lesson to get over, because the people in my group were getting a little annoyed at me for dropping the sticks so many times. Who can blame them? I need to be more careful.\n\nOnce break came along, I went to the cafeteria to get something to eat. Again, the food tray just felt weird while I was holding it. I just switched it to my left hand. Grabbed the food, picked a table, and started to eat. I just kept thinking at why my right hand just felt weird. I couldn't hold things properly. I couldn't place a finger on it.\n\nI stared at my right hand, which was placed flat on the table, and almost immediately could tell what was wrong. I used my left hand as a reference, and it was confirmed. I couldn't place a finger on it this whole time was because I literally couldn't place a finger on it.\n\nMy right hand's index finger was shorter.\n\nEDIT: Some capitalization and words." ]	3
	[WP] Forget the princess; the dragonslayer wants to marry the King.	[ "The armored figure waited in the king’s antechambers, awaiting an audience, an audience that they were pretty sure was likely to be a very much-viewed event. Of course; it wasn’t every day that someone was lucky enough to have slain the Dragon, the most elite of the princesses’ bodyguards. Although technically he still lived; actually killing the man would have lead almost immediately to a beheading, and that certainly would have ruined some plans.\n\nThe wait had already gone on for some time; the angle of the sun had been nearly across the room before, just barely visible in the room itself unless one stuck their head to the brick of the narrow slit; the sun was beaming directly into the middle of the room, now.\n\nFurther contemplation was brought to a halt when the heavy wooden door was pushed open, the metal hinges squealing with much noise, announcing without words the captain of the Kings royal guard. The man’s only armor was his full metal breast plate, and the sword sheathed at his hip.\n\n“So you are the dragon slayer?” the man offered with quiet surprise; there was also some slight confusion in the tenor of his voice. A slow and deliberate nod was his answer. “Come, then, and let us be presented to his royal majesty,” he offered in answer, and turned to stride from the room. A small retinue of his best guardsmen followed behind him, surrounding the armored figure as they made their way to the kings receiving chambers. \n\n“You seem rather slight to have bested the Dragon,” the captain offered, trying to get a feeling for the other person. Clad in muted, light-looking armor from head to toe, the figure was nearly a foot shorter than himself, and didn’t look to carry much in the way of strength. He knew that one’s stature didn’t always measure equally to one’s fighting ability, but he was still rather curious as to how this one had managed to do what many others had struggled—and failed—to do.\n\n“I have four older brothers,” the armored figure spoke, a slightly rough, young tone. \n\nThe captain frowned slightly, thinking something off about the response, but they were entering the king’s presence now, and he turned his focus to the man whom he had pledged his life and loyalty towards. With a slight signal of his hand, he brought his guardsmen to a halt, and addressed the king. \n\nA spectacle it was, of course, as not only his royal Highness, but the king’s council, and each of their assistants, as well as the chamberlain, the senior advisor, and the king’s three daughters, all were present and watching intently over the proceedings. And of course, as the captain gave more thought to the matter, the royal guards- of both the king and his princesses- and of the servants, who moved among all others almost as whispered thoughts.\n\n“We have brought the Dragonslayer to you, your Highness,” he offered, bowing his head before his liege.\n\n“So as we see,” the king offered in a quiet, congenial tone, before turning his attentions to the armored figure. “So you are the Dragonslayer,” the king continued, “and we presume that you know of the reward given to those who have slain one of the Dragons?”\n\n“To be allowed the privilege to court one of royalty?” the armored figure offered in question, that voice again rough yet youthful, and yet again making the captain frown just a bit. What was it about that voice…?\n\n“That is so,” the king responded, and the captain returned his attentions to his majesty. “What say you to this? T’is an honor bestowed upon very few.”\n\n“I would accept, your Highness,” the armored voice responded, “I would be honored to be seen with thee.”\n\nAt that, the king sputtered, and sat up a bit straighter in his throne. \n\n“Me?” he began to chuckle, his tone both amused and distressed. “I am the king, and my interests are not found in men as you and I,” he lightly groused.\n\n“You did not say so two years ago,” the armored figure remarked, meanwhile reaching upwards and after a few moments of gentle twisting and tugging, pulled off the helm of the armor; a vigorous shaking of the head allowed a thick cascade of luscious chestnut brown hair to fall to the middle of the now-revealed-to-be-a-woman’s back.\n\nHer dark and stormy blue eyes gazed piercingly back at the king’s more richly hazel-green orbs.\n\n“Siobain?” the king uttered, shock in both his face and tone. Shock that was mimicked in the expressions of many, then captain noted as he quickly looked around at others within his line of sight. Shock that was mirrored in his own expression, as the few pieces of odd thought came together in his mind.\n\n“Tis I, your Highness,” the young woman nodded, and then gave a slight bow/courtsey towards him. “Your words when you saw me last were that the loss of your wife was still too new and too full of feeling to consider my desires to be at your side; now, an opportunity has brought us to where such may be possible. I ask of you—I beg of you, your Highness, allow me this opportunity.”\n", "King Vanaton is not an attractive man. He is a very rich, very powerful man, however, which makes him beautiful to many.\n\nHe also has a very nice son who is about 14 and will inherit the throne someday, another son who is sweet-natured and dumb as a brick and about 9 years old, and three daughters ranging in age from 16 to 4. Given that their mother is dead, killed by a dragon, they are understandably neurotic about the hordes of women who are pursuing their rich, powerful, ill-favoured, ill-tempered sire, especially the women who are still of breeding age and machiavellian disposition. Young or almost-adult, none of them want to be killed by an ambitious stepmother. \n\nDespite having a legendarily bad temper, Vanaton is not a bad man. He does understand that marrying a woman who would abuse or kill his children is undesirable, and he is smart enough to know that taking mistresses who birth bastards is a good way to find his children dealing with a succession battle, so he has only been looking at marrying an older woman. Thus, he challenged all of the unmarried over-40 women in the country...the widows, the spinsters, the lost and forgotten....to win his hand, by bringing him the head of the dragon who killed his wife.\n\n(At this point, I should explain that this is a gross overreaction to the death of his wife: the dragon was carrying a heavy piece of furniture at the late queen's request, tripped on a toy the idiot 9-year-old son left and fell. When the dragon fell, the queen was in the way, and, well, solid ironwood furniture is heavy. At least it was quick. The dragon was inconsolable and fled to the high mountains before anybody could figure out what happened, and by the time the badly injured servant helping the queen and the dragon move the china cupboard recovered from his injuries, the king had already put a price on the dragon's head and refused to bend.)\n\nIt was thus unsurprising to me that no other woman of a certain age was willing to take the king up on this offer. Snowgarden was so well-liked by so many that even the golden apple of a king and a crown was too big of a task even for the most power-hungry. That, and Princess Sylvia, the king's sister, threatened beheading for anybody who actually killed Snowgarden. Sylvia is the one everybody wished had been the monarch, but she had the ill-fortune (for all of us) to be born two years after her brother.\n\nAnyway, I digress. Snowgarden was the price for the king's hand, anybody who killed Snowgarden would herself be killed, and my countrywomen, well, they're stupid and uncreative.\n\nNot a single one of them figured out that the price was on Snowgarden's head, not Snowgarden's death. \n\nThe conversation went like this:\n\n\"Snowgarden.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Come home.\"\n\nShe did.\n\nPrincess Sylvia met her at the castle portcullis. Thom Baker, the servant, greeted her with tears in her eyes. Every single one of the outside servants (gardens, stables, and carriage house) were beside themselves. You have to understand, Snowgarden is almost nine hundred years old, so she helped raise every single person in the castle. Even the horses were happy to see her, and that's saying a lot given that she's a predator and they are prey animals. I smirked all the way to the throne room, where the king chased out every other person except Snowgarden herself.\n\n\"Lady Teresa, I can't believe you did that,\" King Vanaton said to me.\n\n\"Yes you can,\" I answered.\n\nHe shook his head. \"Were you always this clever?\"\n\n\"Why,\" I asked, all innocence, \"do you think I never married?\"\n\n\"I always thought you were a lesbian,\" he said. Blushing. How funny. \"You never seemed interested in any of the men, at all the balls. Then you went to your family property in the woods and we never heard from you for thirty years. We just assumed you had found yourself a nice wife and were living a good life far, far away from court. Now you show up and make all the rest of the desperate women look like utter fools?\"\n\nMy bland smile turned brittle as glass. \"You have always had a way with words,\" I said.\n\n\"That's....\" He stopped. \"That wasn't a compliment.\"\n\n\"No.\" I went back to my bland smile. \"So, here's how this is going to work. We're going to marry, and you're going to send your oldest son and two oldest daughters to the University in Kobon Hafn, which is actually where I have been for the last thirty years. Teaching philosophy, arithmetic, and,\" I said, looking at Snowgarden, \"matters of law.\"\n\nHe blinked. Then he blinked again. King Vanadon, the supreme sovereign ruler of Faron, could not find words. Finally, he managed, \"What?\"\n\n\"Matters of law. You are the king. Your word is law. You used your word to put a price on this dragon's head.\" My smile turned predatory. \"But you never said her head must be detached from her neck. Thereby, I give you Snowgarden's head, and her neck, and her body, and all of the rest of her, so that you can get down on your knees and beg forgiveness for being such a thoughtless horse's ass.\"\n\nSnowgarden began to cry. \"I'm so sorry, milord,\" she said.\n\nKing Vanadon got off his throne....wait, was he? Yes, he got down on his knees in front of the dragon. \"Snowgarden, I am profoundly sorry. I was wrong, and I was proud, and I was a...a...a horse's ass.\"\n\nWe've been married ten years now. Princess Khaya is now a lecturer at the University. Princess Leticia met a sweet young man while at the University, married him, and keeps him very busy managing my family estate. Prince Sophan gained courage, wisdom, and both a nice husband AND a nice wife, which surprised nobody at all. \n\nMy husband is still an ill-tempered horse's ass, but we have fun.\n\n\n", "\"Absolutely not.\"\n\nThe dragonslayer, speckled in gore, shining armor blackened and scorched, stood beside an overburdened cart, on which the severed head of the dragon, the size of a bale of hay, rested. Its tongue lolled out of it's mouth like a sock filled with lead shot, daggerlike yellowed teeth, soot coating them with a tarry plaque, jutted from its gnarled gums. It's eyes were like bloodshot canteloupes, with a vicious red slash of a pupil, made rheumy now, with the beginnings of putrefaction. \n\nIt smelled, no, reeked of rotted meat, sulphur, wood smoke, and crude oil, and the king's throne room, which usually smelled of lemon oil, wax, and sandalwood, was filled the odious thing. By tradition, no others were allowed to interrupt the matrimonial negotiations, and so, they were alone, in the chamber of echoing stone and softly waving tapestry.\n\nThe dragonslayer shook his visored head dismissively. His helm had had a plume, but it had been singed off. His voice, muffled as it was, though, was clearly male, of an age approximate to the King himself. \"I've read the law. I'm entitled to a royal hand in marriage, of my choosing. It doesn't say it has to be a princess.\"\n\n\"Oh, wonderful. A clever bit of trickery. And why would you want to marry me?\" The king said, pursing his lips behind steepled fingers, his blue-green eyes, just starting to show a hint of crows feet, narrowed.\n\n\"Well, you have many daughters. If I had political aspirations, me marrying one will do nothing to forward them. Why fight a dragon, to be eighth in line for the throne?\"\n\nThe king chuckled. \"A fair point. Next?\"\n\n\"Second, none of your daughters are over seven years of age. I don't intend to wait more than a decade to wed.\"\n\n\"Another fair point.\" He conceded.\n\n\"And, lastly, there is you, my king. You took a wive, you have produced heirs, you have done your duty. None could besmirch you now. It is not your fault your wife perished in childbirth, and not your fault that the presumptuous dragonslayer, who saved the realm, has forced you into a political marriage, the sole loophole by which a man may marry another man in the kingdom. You are just doing your duty to your people, yet again.\"\n\nA look of recognition flashed across the king's face. He marshaled himself carefully. \"Lift your visor, knight.\"\n\n\"It's not your fault-\" the grim figure continued, his tone growing more intense. \"-that you must enter into this union. None could gainsay it. This is the oldest law of this land. It wouldn't be your fault that you could be made to marry me! And not your fault that we might enjoy it!\"\n\n\"Sir knight-\" The king continued, trembling \"I'm not sure what sort of man you might take me for...\"\n\n\"It's not 'Knight', your Magesty. It's 'Count'.\" He said, pulling off the hem to reveal glittering black eyes, an oh-so-familiar crooked smile, and curly black hair that shone like polished jet.\n\n\"Frederick...!\" The king breathed, scarcely believing his eyes.\n\n\"Just like we had talked about in the monastery, my King. Do you remember? Those long nights, when we made those promises? Those dreams?!\"\n\n\"Impossible dreams, Frederick! We knew that, when we said them, that it couldn't happen!\" The king was shaking now, fists clenched, looking down and away...\n\nFrederick walked closer, eyes brimming, his throat nearly closed... \"I don't believe that, king. James. I don't. Neither do you. We don't need to be prisoners anymore!\"\n\nHe reached out, his hand filled with infinite tenderness, and brought the king's aquamarine eyes in line with his own. \"Please, James.\"\n\n\"Let me rescue you.\"\n\nAnd they kissed, before the throne, and the dragon, and they lived.\n\nHappily. Ever after.\n\nFIN\n\n________________________________________________________________\nAFTERWORD:\nHey, if you liked that, maybe look [over here](https://www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/) where I've got lots of other things. Such things I have. Will you like them?! I DON'T KNOW! \n\n", "I grew up on the outskirts of a small fishing village in the kingdom of Ilanthia. My parents were poor but I was loved. They taught me right from wrong and instilled in me a desire to be better and to want more than the life they led. I had a wandering mind. Though I was happy and content in my own way, I wanted more. I wanted to get out of this village and see the world. The Ilanthian king issued a royal decree many years ago that required all the children in the kingdom to be given an education from their local temple. King Ardyn figured that even the poorest or lowliest of his people deserved an equal footing to rise above their current station in life. The people adored him for it.\n\nOne evening after my lessons at the temple, I was wandering through the forest taking my time getting home. The thought of chores kept my feet from walking any faster. As I stopped to watch two squirrels wrestling around in the trees, I heard a scream from afar. It sounded like that of a young girl. She sounded desperate.\n\nI took off running toward the sound of the screams over the next hill as fast as my legs would carry me. I ran through bushes and over hedges, scraping my arms and face as I missed branches and thorns. The screams were getting weaker, turning to choked sobs. I ran faster.\n\nAs I crested the hill, I looked into the valley below. The land was scorched and barren, errant tendrils of smoke trailed lazily up through the air from their embers below them. Crouched behind a rock, I saw a young girl crouched over an older boy that was unconscious with blood streaming down from a nasty cut below his eye. Her eyes caught mine as she searched the horizon for help of any kind.\n\n\"Help me! Please!\" she cried.\n\n\"I'm coming, stay there!\" I yelled in reply.\n\nAs I made my way down the hill, careful to avoid the embers glowing below me, a dark shadow engulfed the sky around us. A sound unlike any I had ever heard before bellowed high above. It sounded like a bear I had once encountered at a menagerie when I was younger but amplified tenfold. The earth shook around me, loosening some of the still-hot coals which caused little fires throughout the valley. The girl screamed again, drowned out by the thunder from above.\n\nI looked up and saw a great beast, with large leathery wings circling the valley like a vulture looking for a meal. With eyes like fire, the creature saw me trying to get to the girl. It roared in defiance of this new intruder. The beast flew higher into the air, elongating its neck that had begun to glow darker than the setting sun above. A high pitched whine emanated from everywhere and the the flying creature spewed fire from its great mouth up into the air. A downpour of sparks and ash floated gently around us. \n\nRealizing that I was standing out in the open in a stupor, I ran as fast as I could toward the rock where the girl and the boy were hiding. \n\n\"What is that thing?\" I cried. \"I've never seen anything like it. We've got to get out of here!\"\n\n\"Its name is Kingslayer. Many years ago, a mage conjured it from the flames of Cragthorn Mountain to hunt the royal family.\" the girl whispered in fear.\n\n\"The royal family? Then what's it do-\", I caught myself, eyes widening in realization. \"Your highness... I'm sorry.\" I bowed my head in obeisance. \"I didn't mean to offend, I'm from a small village to the east of here. I've never even been inside the castle walls. I had no idea.\"\n\nShe laughed. \"You're apologizing for not recognizing your princess while a dragon is circling above us planning his next meal?!\" \n\nI cringed, bowing my head in embarrassment. Next to the princess, the young mans eyes flitted open and closed again, regaining consciousness. He was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. His dark hair cut short, fell across his green eyes. His skin, besides the bleeding cut, was like alabaster, pure and pale. He was lean, clean-shaven, and wore a black tunic with silver detailing on his collar and cuffs. I realized my mouth was hanging open as the princess cocked her head sideways, analyzing me.\n\n\"This is my brother, Prince Aeryk,\" she said. \"We've got to get him out of here. My father is sick and dying and he's the heir to a kingdom that will fall into civil war if he dies now. The dragon cut him as Aeryk tried to fight him off after we were ambushed in this valley. He wanted to see the countryside and get out of the stuffy castle walls. I tried to talk him out of it but...\" she paused. \"Do you hear that?\"\n\n\"No, what?\" I replied, listening for whatever it was that stopped her. \n\n\"That's it exactly... where did the dragon go? I don't hear anything anymore.\"\n\n\n***That's it for now. If you guys liked it, let me know and I'll finish :)" ]	4
	[WP] In the future, society's worst criminals are not sentenced to death. They are sentenced to life.	[ "8th of August:\n\nI have arrived at their home. It was all an accident, but I won't use that as an excuse. Immediately I am met with a glare from the mother of the young man I killed. A punch from his brother. But a gentle touch and meal from his grandmother. Why?\n\n15th of August:\n\nEnd of week one, just as terrible as I anticipated. I'm treated to beatings and trying tasks by the family. I accept them as they come; silently every time. Yet the grandmother still shows kindness, waiting for me at the end of the day with a hot meal and... pleasant conversation. Why?\n\n9th of September:\n\nIt has been a month. The beatings have stopped, and as promised by the judge for good behavior, I am now legally allowed to take up a job. But that's not even the oddest thing. The young man's sister has started treating me as her grandmother has. They have talked the rest of the family into letting me eat with them. They are treating me with something I would never expect: kindness. Why?\n\n22nd of December:\n\nIt's almost Christmas. The family has... accepted me. They don't treat me with disdain, force punishments on me, or abuse me any longer. In fact it's almost like I'm... Why?\n\n1st of January:\n\nThe holidays have come and gone. It was pleasant. I didn't like it. I received gifts from everyone in the family, I didn't even think of buying any of them one. Yet they did not care. They have accepted me. Even after all I have done! All I have put them through! WHY?\n\n7th of May:\n\nIt's been a year. A year since I killed that man in a bar brawl. And now I'm here. I have basically taken his place. All of his family accept me. But... WHY? Why do they treat me as a decent human being and not as a criminal?! I can't handle this... I have done something terrible to them and instead of holding hatred for me, they choose to accept me as their new brother. Their new son. Their new grandson... I can't handle this, I have to... I need to... I just want to know... Why?\n\n8th of May:\n\nI'm in the hospital. Being put under suicide watch, they say. It makes sense, I did try to end my own life. The first of the family to come visit me was, of course, the grandmother. Before she could say anything, anything at all, I asked her, \"Why?\" She knew what I was talking about instantly, it would seem. A smile graced her face and she grasped my hand in hers. Then she spoke, and her words, I will never forget.\n\n\"Because my grandson believed every man to deserve a second chance and not to be held down by the burdens of their past. He believed in forgiveness and acceptance. I choose to pass and carry on his beliefs, because he lived by these words. 'If I can save just one soul from a tortured life, no matter what they have done, then I will have lived happily.' He wouldn't want us to make your life a living hell for something that we can't change. He'd want us to help you become a better person. So I must ask you, do you feel like you have been saved?\"\n\nAnd then I cried.\n\n...Why?", "22 December, 3423\n\n\nDr. Hengle Psyche Evaluation for Life Term Sentence\n\n\nInmate: XRY983\n\n\nInmate History \nOn 15 December 3423, Inmate XRY983 was found guilty of 2 counts of 1st degree murder. \n\nSentence: Life in Truman Program\n\nImpression\nInmate has exhibited strong connection to few material objects, namely his 1966 Mustang, childhood baseball card collection, and mother's necklace. Inmate spent disproportionate amount of time focused on the necklace. NOTE: NECKLACE MAY BE POINT OF ENTRY\n\nFurther evaluation has revealed that strong positive relationship to mother was established early in childhood. No signs of repressed physical and sexual abuse by father have come to light per Dr. Traman's initial evaluation. \n\nInmate is in the last stage of the base formation of his virtual world. Extensive research has been undertaken in regards to his psychological state before, during, and after trial. Per Dr. Traman's request, psyche evaluations were conducted prior to, and following, sentencing. Inmate is deemed mentally and psychologically prepared for life term in Truman Program\n\nDr. Hengle\n\n\n\n\n\n\"See man! I told you that this is what they end up doing with the these inmates!\" cried Todd. \n\n\"That's one report. You can't possibly assume that this is what they do with them. They're given a life term! They're in jail for life!!\" explained Rob. \n\n\"One: this is one of, like, twenty reports I found. All were different inmates and all were in this Truman Program. And Two: how do you know that they are, in fact, in jail? Have you ever actually heard these news sources say that they're in this jail or that jail? No!!! They don't!!! They give them this life sentence and then they torture them by creating a world that's perfect them and in their mind and tear it all down. They do this day after day after day. And!!....they keep them alive for generations!! The first Truman subject died 8 months ago!\" yelled Todd.\n\n\"Ok....so even if this is immoral, which I don't think it is at all because they massacred people, so he died. What do you care?!!\" questioned Rob.\n\n\"The first patient...he was from 3100!! They kept him alive for hundreds of years and tortured him! How is that not wrong?!!\" pleaded Tod. \n\n\"They deserve that!! They should feel that eternity of hell!\" proclaimed Rob. \n\n\"They never mention if they actually know it's going on.\" exclaimed Todd. \n\n\"Well, that's kinda sick!\" responded Rob.\n\n\nring ring ring\n\n[Todd answers his phone]\n\n\"yeah\"\n\n\"Son, this is Officer Mullen. Son, I'm sorry to have to inform you, but your mother and father were found dead at your residence at 1833 Oak Ln.\"\n\n[silence]\n\n\"Now, I know this is difficult to digest, but we will need you to come in to the station. There's a program we have that helps people in your situation.\" ", "\"I declare my sentence - from now on you are banned from the Virtual Reality, and you will have to live the rest of your life in the real world.\"\n\n\"No-o! Please don't do this to me!\"\n\n\"It's over.\"\n\nCharles looked around, as the world around him stopped, blurred and fell to pieces. He woke up laying in capsule in VR-center. 2 guards excorted him out of the gates, through the impenetrable wall surrounding the VR-center to the outer world, inhabited by robots, wild animals, and a few criminals like him, striving to rebuild society. He could never go back, he was now doomed to life in the real world.", "Going to really stretch this prompt, so bear with me. \n\n**\n\nThe jury filed into the courtroom. It had been silent up until that point, and remained near silent still; the only sound being made was now the sound of the men's shoes and the women's heels clacking on the hardwood floor. They each seated themselves except for one man, a man wearing horn-rimmed glasses. His hair was salt and pepper grey, and his upper lip was twitching. \n\nFrom nervousness or from excitement, Gregory Cole couldn't say. It was more than likely excitement. How many times in your life did you get to say, \"I sentenced the Carpet Street Killer?\" \n\nGregory tilted his head to the side, causing his neck to crack. He savored the sensation, knowing full well that it would be a long time until he would feel something like that again. Or would he feel it after he was sentenced? He wasn't quite sure on the mechanics of being sentenced to virtual life. \n\n\"We find the defendant, Gregory Cole, guilty.\" \n\nNo clapping, no chatter, not even murmurs. The stuffed courtroom was silent. \n\n\"Gregory,\" said a man standing somewhere near the courtroom. Greg wasn't paying attention anymore. He was soaking all of it* in. Not the ruling, not the fact that he was about to be sentenced, but all of the sensations that he was currently feeling. The way he could feel his toes touching themselves, the way his foot was nestled in its sock, and the sock in the shoe. The way his shirt clung to his chest, and the way the hard chair felt on his ass. He was savoring it. The way his tongue sat in his mouth, and the way his eyes felt in his skull. He had been told to enjoy it while he could by friends who had done shorter stints. It feels a lot longer than you'd think, they had said. \n\nStill lost in his thoughts, Gregory Cole was pulled to his feet and dragged to the front of the courtroom, where a long table was. Draped over the table was a black cloth that hid the machine below it, the machine that Greg would be hooked into, and where he would serve out his sentence. They sat him down in a chair next to the table. Greg took note of how comfortable the chair was. \n\nOn top of the table was a cord, something resembling an auxiliary jack. The cord went down and under the table, supposedly plugged into the machine that was already whirring. The judge said something, but Gregory wasn't paying attention.\n\n\"Gregory Cole.\"\n\nSomeone tapped him on the shoulder. \n\n\"What?\" He answered, taking note of how his tongue felt when it clicked against his front teeth to make that hard T sound. \n\n\"You are hereby sentenced to virtual life, three hundred years.\" \n\nGreg inhaled deeply. He would have wished his final breaths before entering the VR Prison would consist of fresh air, something found outside in a field far away from. If he had to choose, he would've taken his final breaths in the field behind the Skinny's BBQ joint, where he had buried Claire. There was something special about the way that upturned dirt smelled, especially mixed with the scent of Claire's blood and his own sweat. He inhaled deeply in through his nostrils, hoping to somehow catch a whiff of that smell again. \n\nHe got nothing but stale courtroom air. \n\nA bailiff grabbed the cord and placed it behind Greg's left ear where the Neural-Jack was. He hadn't inserted it just yet. It was almost as if he was teasing Greg, holding the cord just millimeters away from his NJ. As soon as the bailiff inserts the cord, Greg's mind would be locked away in a virtual prison, where he would serve out 300 years of life, in a matter of just a few seconds.\n\nTo Greg, time would go by slowly. His mind would sit in that gray prison, perched away on some technological cloud. No chance of escape, no need to be fed, no need to deal with waste, no nothing. Three hundred years of purgatory. \n\nAnd on the outside, roughly five seconds will pass. The cord will be removed, and before the courtroom's very eyes, Greg will turn from a cold-hearted murderer, into a babbling, drooling, idiot. \n\nAnd here the bailiff was standing, holding that cord right by his ear, tickling the back of his earlobe with it. Greg guessed it served him right; he had done something similar with Claire, holding his erect penis just inches away from her before plunging in. She had begged and pleaded to just get it done and over with, but that killed all the fun if there wasn't any struggle. He repeated to the bailiff what she had said to him on the night of her death. \n\n\"JUST DO IT!\" \n\nTickling the back of his earlobe one last time as if to say fuck you, the bailiff finally inserted the plug.\n\nThe courtroom didn't vanish in a flash like Greg had expected it would. Instead it melted away slowly, as if the entire room had been made out of ice-cream and someone had forgotten to turn on the air conditioner. Greg rapidly blinked his eyes, hoping that it would speed up the transition from real world to virtual world, but no matter how many times he blinked, things just crawled at a slower and slower pace. \n\n\"Is this it?\" he yelled at the jury, whose faces were all drooping off of their skulls. \"Is this what I'm going to be looking at for the next 300 years?\" \n\n\"No buddy,\" a voice to his left said. \n\nGreg turned and saw the silhouette of a man standing there. It was hard to focus on him; it was as if the man was standing behind a thin screen. \n\n\"Who are you?\" \n\n\"Still can't see me?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"It's all still goopy?\"\n\nGreg looked around the courtroom, \"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Give it some time. The mind's got to adjust.\"\n\nTime slinked by, and slowly, the courtroom continued to melt, and eventually disintegrate. The stand where the jury was seated turned into a gray wall. The table that Greg had been sitting by with the machine whirring under it turned into iron bars stretching from ceiling to floor. His head was spinning, and if it were possible, he would've thrown up. The crowd sitting behind him, watching, turned into another wall. \n\nEventually, Greg found himself sitting in a jail cell. When his head finally stopped twirling around, Greg turned to find a man with a shaggy beard sitting on a cot. \n\nThe man was wearing a grey prison jumpsuit, and he was holding a deck of cards. He had been shuffling them back and forth, but now he stopped, holding half of the deck in one hand and the other half in the other. He outstretched his arms and said a lot more jollier than intended, \"Welcome to VR Prison, AKA, Hell.\" \n\n ", "I lie in darkness. I cannot speak, as I have no mouth. I cannot move, as I have no limbs. I have no eyes, but if I did, there would be nothing to see. No scents, no sensations. Just myself and my thoughts.\n\nAnd I deserve it all. For I have committed the only crime my society knows. Murder. No one can die of natural causes, ever since our consciousness were freed from fickle bodies and uploaded into more lasting, more stable machines. Not like the old human nightmares of intelligent robots, but machines that we controlled. \n\nSo nothing could be stolen, because we could simply have the server conjure up a new thing, just as solid and lifelike as in the \"real world\". No one could be harmed, forced into anything, or the like. They could simply move to another of the myriad servers and request a block on their harasser.\n\nThe only crime left was murder. It was different now. Far more difficult. It involved wiping out all copies of a person's consciousness, destroying her right to eventual Voluntary Nonexistence after she tired of the world. Murder. A crime of passion or madness, as always. In my case, perhaps both. My wife had moved to another server and cut me out, you see, so I went to the Source Code...\n\nEnough. I will not think any more of it. I will sit here, in darkness, for now. I have forever, after all. I have relinquished my right to die." ]	5
Bonus points for using iambic pentameter. http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLAEQD0ULngi67rwmhrkNjMZKvyCReqDV4	[WP] Attempting to relieve insomnia, you watch a marathon of Joy of Painting, and in the dark between the night and morning, Bob Ross begins to speak to you directly.	[ "I didn't intend to write for this one but his voice was rattling around my head.\n\n---\n\nNight after night, I could not fall asleep. \nI'd toss and turn and tangle up my sheets \nand flip the pillow over countless times. \nA tired haze that made my days opaque \nbecame my normal, punctuated by \nbizarre, like fevered dreams, hallucinations. \nI'd doze at work and nod off on the train, \nthough I had just been going through the motions \na while pre- my sleeping troubles started.\n\n\nThe worst was how my mind would race at night, \nthe endless looping thoughts tormenting me. \nI started watching YouTube to escape, \ndistract myself from my mind's ceaseless babble. \nThe blue light from the screen's supposed to mess \nwith your internal clock, but mine was shot \nalready so I didn't see the harm. \nI soon discovered ASMR clips, \nalthough I never felt the pleasant tingles \nthe whispered voices helped me to relax. \nBut they were strange and oddly intimate, \nI needed something more impersonal.\n\n\nAnd then I found the man, the myth, the legend, \nhis soothing voice, his smile, and that hair! \nI haven't held a brush in twenty years \nbut Bob Ross Joy of Painting cheered me up. \nI'd drift between a state of sleep and waking, \nthe playlist auto playing on for hours \nwith lakes and mountains forming on the canvas \nand Bobby kept his calming banter going.\n\n\n\"-so that's the way we make some fluffy clouds, \nand you can have as many as you want. \nThis world is yours, and you are the creator, \nit's you who makes the big decisions here. \nNo one will come and tell you what to do, \nthere's so much freedom here, for you to choose. \nYou want a happy little tree right... here? \nAlright, that's great, again: this is your world. \nThat little rascal's looking lonely huh? \nLet's give this tree a happy little friend, \n'cause everybody needs to have a friend. \nDo you have many friends, Tobias Jones?\"\n\n\nHe's getting philosophical, I thought, \nhey wait a sec, did he just say my name? \nIt must have been the tendrils of a dream.\n\n\n\"Reflections in the water are that easy. \nAnd let's just beat the devil out this brush... \nHa! Every single time I laugh at that. \nBeen doing any laughing lately Jones?\" \n\n\nI've... kinda been a zombie lately Bob, \num, haven't really slept these last few days, \nwhich might explain the reason we are talking.\n\n \n\"Well, stranger things have happened late at night. \nMan, I could tell you stories from Alaska, \nthe land of midnight sun and Northern Lights.\" \n\n\nOh yeah? You never struck me as the type, \nyou ever suffer from insomnia?\n\n\"Well, everyone has had their sleepless nights, \nbut let me ask you something now, young man.\"\n\n\nI'm really not that young. \"-You are to me, \nI'm dead, remember? You are young my friend.\" \nHe laughed a while at his little joke. \n\"Oh shoot,\" he said, \"here come the credits now, \nwe'll talk again on the next episode.\"\n\n\nThe next one started in a couple seconds \nand once the intro started Bob Ross asked: \n\"What kind of world are you creating lately?\" \nWell, like I said, I can not seem to sleep, \nso that's been hurting my performance lately. \n\"That sounds a lot like copping out, my friend, \nif you can see it in imagination, \nthen you can make it a reality,\nthis world is yours to paint just how you choose-\" \nAnd this is sounding like that Secret junk, \nLaw of attraction, New Age nonsense, Bob. \n\"Come on Tobias, it's a metaphor, \nyou need to shape your life a little more \nand mindset has a lot to do with that \nMy mind is fried, I have insomnia. \n\"You know, I was an Army Drill Instructor,\" \nI find that hard to fathom. \"Well, it's true. \nIn there we didn't want to hear excuses. \nBesides, you're sleeping now.\" I am? \"You are.\" \nAnd that's the moment my alarm went off.\n\n\n", "I had been sleepy fitfully and woke up in the night yet again. I kept my eyes closed, hoping Bob Ross's voice would lull me back to sleep despite the wind howling outside and the occasional flash of lightning.\n\n\"Now let's add in a tree here. This one has fallen over.\"\n\nI used to never be able to get back to sleep but now I kept The Joy of Painting on every night. Ross was a life saver.\n\n\"Now we'll add a bit of jagged brown to show where the trunk snapped. We'll do it again to show where the roof broke.\"\n\nRoof?\n\n\"Look how we can make the tree disappear into the structure. Covering up part of its length with the wall of the house shows that it fell with a lot of force.\"\n\nI was wide awake now. I fumbled to find my glasses on my messy night stand and placed them on my face. On the television, Ross was putting the finishing touches on a painting of a home crushed nearly flat by a fallen Douglas Fir. I recognized my truck outside. \n\nRoss turned to face the camera. \"Do you know why I painted your house, Adam?\" \n\nI jumped out of bed and approached the screen. I didn't think to reply to my television. \n\n\"Let me remind you.\" Ross reached out of the frame and picked up another painting. Against a black background, two lights illuminated a patch of pavement. A small figure in a dress lay crumpled on the road. \"You didn't even check if she was alive.\"\n\nI fell to my knees, staring at that horrible memory depicted on canvas. I started to cry.\n\n\"I didn't mean to,\" I said. \"It was an accident!\"\n\n\"No, Adam,\" Ross said as the trunk snapped. \"It was a mistake.\" \n\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] In an alternate universe, time flows backwards. You, as an ancient greek, are reading a history article about WW II.	[ "What a strange and curious tree grows from the withered bark, spreading life through its leaves until only its vestigal acorn remains?\n\nSuch is our life, and as such is our fate. Our past is filled with horrific terrors and fantastic wonders, all of which are lost overtime as Saturn seems content to let things run backwards. \n\nI suppose in time we will call him by his original name. \n\nLong ago, massive empires sprawled across the barbarian lands of the north. Of the largest, the Sea Kings of the Northern Isles who held lands spanning around the world. The strongest, an empire if Germania that marched with unbroken purpose to dominate a continent, clashing with the Red Kings that marshalled its people with song and steel at their back. \n\nIn years past they were armed with ferrocious weapons; spears that dissolved into enormous fires that could consume whole cities. Enormous mechanica that traversed entire oceans, able to wipe out entire armies in an instant, and even traverse the skies themselves. \n\nAnd with those tools, the barbarian Germanic empire spread like a kanker, consuming people in labrynths of death, as he compelled his enormous legions to march again and again to crush the Mad Red Despots. What horror would it be to live in such times! \n\nNow we hold only fragmented relics; relis of such power that even the Emperors of Rome will not suffer their legions to use, for the untold destruction they brought to the Ancient peoples. Justinian the Christian Emperor once wrote, \"Let our kataphractoi use not those cursed tools of our, for the Son must learn his Father's lessons\". Although his savior has long since died, I find that I must agree. \n\nPerhaps there is indeed a reason why Saturn turns his back to us. \n\n", "Soon, we will be lost. I wish I knew what we had done to deserve such a fate. Time, the most fundamental aspect of life itself, betrays us, running backwards like water flowing up a mountain stream. We read of events that have already happened, but should not occur for a millennium. Of technologies that we cannot even dream of, that used to be commonplace. What should be our future is our past. \n\n I am a scholar, and my name is not important. I write this as a citizen of what will come-or what was once known as - ‘Ancient Greece’. I have read of the end of our civilisation, the rise and fall of the Romans, the Dark Ages, the Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution. Even though it takes me three days to reach the nearest town, I have seen pictures of a man walking on the moon itself, something that is only a glimmer of light in the sky to me. As I put pen to paper, stopping every second word to refresh my ink, I can read of machines that could print hundreds of thousands of words a minutes. The great Libraries of the 2000’s, of both our past and our future, are open to us. I do not know why, but time has turned around on itself, like a snake eating its own tail. The events I read of have already happened in the distant past, but the Libraries have books that speak of us, and refer to us as their past. I can find no reference to myself or my family- I must conclude we will have little effect on human history, which on much reflection I realise is probably for the better- but I can find volumes on Leonidas, king of the Spartans. Even if the only notable thing he did was die idiotically, he seems to have inspired much admiration among the men of the 20th century.\n\nAt first I was ecstatic. I am a scholar, and I would have freedom to study both what has happened and what is to come. The Libraries provide us with a gift like no other in history…or the future, as the case may be. Both knowledge and hindsight were ours.\n\nBut it is only now, among the books and files of the future-past- that I truly realise we are not blessed, that this is no gift. On my laps sits a book about what will be called the ‘Second World War’. An interesting read, but it was not words that interested me; it was the book itself. I realise now that this book is like nothing my people can make, and that is precisely the problem. The art of printing a book of many pages like this is lost to my people, and it is not alone. The power to split atoms, to fly, to sail the great oceans. We have lost them all. We are being dragged backwards through time, aware of our fate but helpless to slow our descent. I can only theorize where we will go from here. Soon we will forget iron. Then housing. Then fire. How long until we cease to be human? I do not know.\n\nThe most sickening part is that we cannot alter what is to come. I find notes from other historians who talk of the Libraries, and of people trying to break the chains of the past. But they cannot. For some reason or another, the result is always the same. A king who is meant to be killed in battle, now aware of his fate, makes peace with his enemy before his end. That night, he is crushed when the roof of his palace collapses. A man who will invent gunpowder, upon hearing of this, will shut himself away, determined to not be responsible for so much death and destruction. Within a week, he hears of a new black powder, recently engineered, that combusts with violent force. The actors may change, but the play remains the same. \n\nI have decided to keep this revelation to myself. I wish to spare my fellows the horror and disgust that now flows through me. I commit these words to paper in the hope that you, who reads this, may find some way to change the future- the past- before the universe reverts back into the darkness from which it came. Perhaps you will find some way to revert the decline. Or perhaps you will not, and this note will go unread until the very act of writing is lost to the ages. Whoever you are, I wish that you will not suffer the same fate as me; I have learned from the past, yet I am forced to repeat it. \n" ]	2
	[WP] You're high on your drug of choice. Describe what you see/experience.	[ "Light crept in through the windows, I sat curled in bed.. \nI ate that acid hours ago, should I be feeling it? I asked aloud.\nI walked from the bed to the window checking on the world, it sat as usual.. In reality. I went and sat on the bed, disappointed I grabbed a half smoked joint from earlier that day. I lit it inhaling the smoke and exhaling it after holding it in. I began to think, it started with a bow. A bow this girl daisy used to wear in 1st grade, I slowly built her in my head. Hitting the joint again, imagining her as an adult like me. She was 21 now. What kind of creep am I, I sat there thinking again. I walked again to the window and opened it.. My neighbors the Wizishkis just moved in. I am for the first time seeing them as a family unit. The father taller than the rest, the mother as short as the two younger daughters, and an older daughter probably my age. The eldest daughter turned around, the bow resting in her hair. I pulled the curtains shut quickly. I curled down into a ball. \nWhat the hell was up with that.. Did I imagine that? I thought.. \nNo I could not have imagined that, but... \nI turned on the tv thinking now, commercials flew by. From toasters to lawnmowers, I watched a vast world of infomercials. The remote doesn't seem to understand my commands. \nIs this stuff even working? \nthree knocks at the door \nI froze.\nI walked slowly to the door peeking out the window the eldest Wizishki daughter was at my door. Medium length skirt, dress cardigan with a white shirt underneath . I gulped and swallowed the spit in my mouth. The same bow I had imagined was resting on her head. \nWas daisy even real? Was this Daisy? \nshe tapped on the glass where my face was, indicating she saw me. my heart dropped into my stomach. I swallowed my spit again. I opened the door and I tried to speak, and I ended up coughing. \n\"Welcome to the neighborhood!\" I exclaimed fakely. She smiled and waved back to me. \n\"I'm Luna Wizishki, I just moved here. My father insisted that I must find an american boy to show me around. He thinks other Asians are shady unless they're Korean like us.\" I tried to laugh, and explain. \n\"I don't really know my way around here that well either ya see, I've only been going to college here for a month.. I live here by myself. I'm a uh.\" Luna cut me off luckily.. I was panicking. \n\"You're a loner? Well we'll have to change that.\" She grabbed my ear pulling me out of the darkness. She smiles and dusts me off. She starts to laugh and says \nBesides I just took a hit of acid, I need someone to explore with.\" I laughed afterwards, her face grew long. I showed her my smile, but she turned away walking down the street. I looked at her puzzled.. I sat there for a minute.. \nWhat the hell should I do.. did that really even happen. I ran, I didn't choose to, but I did. I caught up to her. My mouth opened, and it talked for me. \n\"I didn't mean to come off as a dick.. It's.. it's just, uh.. I'm tripping too\" She looked at him her long face shrinking back to a smile. \n\"Then it's decided then, we will explore.\"", "Heh. Stupid dog thinks its ball is in the bushes but she put it inside the house earlier. I wonder if dogs have spatial memory like humans do, can they remember where they put things, or do they randomly coast through life rediscovering everything every time? Damn, i guess humans are kind of like that too. Holy shit, there's still half of this blunt left? I'm pretty baked but today is sunday and the bills are paid. Let's do this.\n\nI can't handle these cough blunt papers, why they gotta make them so thick, i wish they could make them thinner, almost invisible, hold up, science must be pretty close to making invisible paper by now, i doubt they would use that tech to make blunt papers though. Low-key scientists must blaze like the rest of us, i mean they gotta drive cars and pay for netflix like regular folks. We see scientists like these godly individuals with giant brains but i bet they're just random dudes who were passionate about stuff and they went and learned it. I wonder how many scientists i crossed today and didn't even know it. Damn, i bet my neighbor is a scientist, how do you tell that though i mean they don't wear lab coats to work or do they put them on before going to work? Heh, lab coats. Lab coats. I wonder, if a labrador wore a lab coat on his coat of fur, would it be called a Lab lab coat? Or a lab coat coat coater? Oh shit the mailman is here and he will know i am high for sure.\n\n''Hey dude''\n\n''Hello. Sign here please''\n\n''Heh, yeah. How much do these electronic signer things cost anyways?''\n\n''I have no idea sir, the company gives them to us.''\n\n\"'They give them to you? You can take them home n shit?''\n\n\"'... No, sir. They are just a work tool. We would have no use for them at home.''\n\n\"'That makes sense, and the fact that that makes sense is good and satisfying.''\n\n\".. Ok, sir. Have a good day!''\n\n''Yeah''\n\nWhat the hell did i order anyways? I don't remember ordering anything. I might have ordered this years ago and it just now got here, but my interests aren't the same at all as they were back then, i guess i kind of lost focus. Maybe Amanda ordered this but she doesn't use the computer for anything other than mail and secretly watching porn, heh i should show her how to use incognito tabs but i like knowing what kind of porn she watches and trying to do the sex things that she watches with her. She doesn't ever really seem to notice, i wonder if she's happy? Shit, i wonder if anyone is happy. We all just go about doing this and that but deep down we all have hell of emotions going on in full vortex mode and we just trying to navigate the waters i guess. Oh right this package. So fucking hard to open these things i wonder why they gotta wrap em like they were diamonds or some shit. Ohhh yeah my Pokemon silver japanese edition that i ordered on wednesday. I don't even really like pokemon but it's that inner child told me to get it and hell if i don't obey him from time to time or risk getting gnarly nightmares and night terrors and shit like that.\n\nOh man this couch is awesome i'm just gonna lie down for a bit." ]	2
	[WP]Tell the story of the hero who always saves the day and is loved by everyone, but from the point of view of an innocent person who has had their life ruined by that hero.	[ "I know you love him. EVERYONE loves him; why wouldn't they? He's the \"good guy\", the one that \"saves the day\", the one people can \"count on.\"\n\nCan you hear the sarcasm? \n\nLook. No crime is justifiable. If it's illegal, it's fucking illegal and you shouldn't do it. But sometimes I really wish whoever is casting judgment, whether it be a judge or society or Mr. Superhero-Goodguy over here, would take a step back to figure out WHY said crime was committed. Because sometimes, there's a really good reason. Sometimes, people don't listen to you when you ask, cry, beg for help. Sometimes, you don't have any choice but to take matters into your own hands. \n\nMy dad was a junkie. Heroin, crack, meth, you name it. Anything he could smoke, snort, inject or huff, he did. My mom and I left him when I was fifteen, in the dead of night when he was passed out on the kitchen floor in his own vomit and shit - it was a daily occurrence. Mom made sure that afternoon that all of my things were packed in the three suitcases we owned. She carried as many changes of clothes and hygiene products she could fit in her two oversized purses and had them in the trunk. We left without looking back. \n\nWell, until my sixteenth birthday. That's when she realized she left the necklace in her jewelry box. It was gold, real gold, and her mother had given it to her when she turned sixteen. But my dad snatched it off her neck one day when he was high on that night's drug of choice and broke the clasp. It was fixable; Mom had just never had the chance to take it to the store to have it repaired. She tried to go back for it, even snuck in the house when he was with his dealer to try and grab it. But it was gone; all that she found was a slip from the pawn shop he'd sold it at - for a measly $350. \"That just adds insult to injury,\" she sobbed. \n\nSix months later, Mom died in a car accident. My grandparents were my next of kin but they didn't give a fuck - they thought we were wrong for leaving my father in his \"time of need.\" (I should probably mention that they're my paternal grandparents.) They let me live with Jonie, my boyfriend, so long as I left enough of my belongings in their spare bedroom and came to their house when requested to appease Social Services. \n\nJonie broke into my dad's house and grabbed the slip from the pawn shop. But we weren't allowed to retrieve the necklace without buying it back at their price - a whopping $4500. We consulted with a lawyer, even went to court. But as a minor, there was nothing I could do, especially because Mom never separated from my father. They were legally married until the day she died. \n\nWe tried contacting Mr. Superhero-Goodguy as well. If he ever got our messages, he didn't reply. I guess it wasn't important enough or there wouldn't be enough media attention for his good doing for him to want to help us. So we did what we had to do - we took matters into our own hands. \n\nI was making nightly trips to my father's house and stealing whatever cash he had laying around. It was never much, and I never told Jonie - I didn't want him to worry. Every other day, I went to the pawn shop to check on the necklace. After eight weeks of pilfering money, I had enough to make a down deposit of $350. But I still didn't tell Jonie. I was going to... Eventually. \n\nIt was October 2nd. It was 12:58am and it was cold. I was wearing a thin jacket that the wind seemed to cut right through and flip flops. My jeans had rips in them. I was walking home from my father's house when I heard the sirens. Four seconds later, I saw him: the wonderful, amazing Mr. Superhero-Goodguy. Hear the sarcasm again? He flew over me towards the sirens, he must've been twenty feet above me at the most. And then I realized: the sirens were coming from the direction of the pawn shop. \n\nI picked up my pace and stopped in front of Jonie's house. He normally got home from work around 1am; his car should've been there, but I probably don't have to tell you that it wasn't. I was about to go inside, desperately hoping to find him inside when I heard the gunshots. They came quickly, one after the other. I counted six. Then silence. I was frozen in my spot, heart hammering in my chest. Eight seconds after the shots ceased, there were more - so many that I couldn't count. \n\nI took off running. The pawn shop was a ten minute walk and I made it there in under three minutes. There were so many lights, so many squad cars, at least a dozen police men. I saw him, Mr. Superhero-Goodguy, off to the far right, past the throngs of people that had gathered. The front window of the shop had been completely shattered, and I could make out Jonie's silhouette in the darkness beyond the broken window.\n\nI started pushing through the crowd. A few people muttered and grumbled in annoyance but I threw my elbows out and keep moving forward. When I finally reached the front, police officers were frantically pushing the crowd back. I scrambled to see past them, to get some glimpse of what was going on. And I saw him, Jonie, with a gun in his hand, eyes wide with fear. And I saw Superhero-Goodguy focusing his laser weapon on him. \n\n\"JONIE!\" I screamed. His eyes flickered wildly until they found mine. He was crying but forced a crooked smile. His sandy hair flopped in his eyes and clung to his forehead. He began to lift his right arm; the gold chain he was holding reflected off of the light of the police cars. I started crying, the kind of laughing-crying thing that happens when you don't really know what to do. \n\n\"HE'S GONNA FIRE!\" an officer bellowed. The hero activated the laser at the same time I screamed, \"NO!\" and lunged forward. \n\n**\n\nMaybe that doesn't make him a bad guy. Maybe he saved the day for someone. But he didn't for me. He took away the last thing I had on this planet. \n\nAnd he didn't even let me keep the fucking necklace. \n\n___\nNOTE: this was typed on my phone. Please excuse any and all typos. ", "There aren't many things you remember fifty years after they happened. \n\nThe autumn leaves had recently started to fall and were just getting to the point where they crisped underfoot. I shuffled my bookbag onto my shoulder and hurried my feet. If I showed up late to class one more time the professor would fail me, I was sure of it.\n\nNigel wasn't exactly everything you'd ever dreamed of in a man. In fact, he had his nose buried in some textbook at the exact moment that I slammed into him and sent the contents of my bookbag scattering across the pavement. He had a short, scruffy beard and hunched his shoulders when he walked, and he had the bluest eyes I'd ever seen.\n\nI scrambled to shove the errant items into my bag while muttering 'sorry, sorry', but Nigel didn't even bend down to help. Instead, he watched me, as if I were a science experiment, and when I was done, he stuck out his hand. I scowled at it.\n\n\"Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?\" he asked. I'm not sure why I said yes.\n\nI failed that class, but the journey he took me on almost--and I do say almost*--made it worth it. \n\nWhen we'd been dating for six months he laid out a scavenger hunt for me in the park. At the end was a picnic. We watched videos on his cell phone and talked about things I wasn't smart enough to understand but all the same I nodded along and smiled and pretended I knew. It enthralled me just to hear him talk. The words washed over me and soothed my soul in a way I'm not sure I could describe to another person, you'd have to feel it.\n\nWhen we were dating for a year, Nigel brought home a puppy. Nigel didn't really have an opinion one way or the other on dogs and he certainly had no idea how to take care of one, but he knew I always wanted one, so he meticulously researched breeds until he found one he thought suited our lifestyle. He seemed so excited about the surprise I couldn't bear to tell him I'd seen the searches for breeders in his browser history.\n\nThe next year Nigel graduated college and took a position on a research fellowship that explored the mechanics of trauma. He worked long hours, but he always called me during our lunch breaks and on the weekends he always made sure we spent time together. \n\nWhen we were together for three years, Nigel asked me to marry him, and Pearl, our Bichon Frise, acted as the ringbearer. We kept the wedding small, just friends and family, which was probably a good thing because the next year the breakthrough happened.\n\nI remember one night I heard a scream come from our kitchen. I ran there out of concern for what Nigel might have done to himself. When I got there I found him lying on the kitchen floor, a serrated, bloody steakknife clutched in one hand and what looked like spray-on sunscreen in the other. I screamed. In fact, I almost fainted. \n\n\"Naomi, you have to see this!\" he said. \n\nNigel sprayed the sunscreen onto his chest and like a miracle before my eyes, the gash he'd self-inflicted healed. I nearly killed him again.\n\nI wish I could describe to you how it worked, and if Nigel were still around, he would, but the best I can understand it is that the discovery turns back time. As far as your body is aware, the trauma never happened. The serum was cheap, easy to produce, and affordable. Nigel and his team released the discovery for free.\n\nIt was the stupidest thing he ever did.\n\nAlmost overnight the media was upon us. The frenzy was overwhelming. Reporters knocked on our door night and day wanting to know about the discovery. Within a week it was being used in burn units. Within a month it was rolled out to every drugstore in South Africa for the treatment of every insignificant cut, bruise, and scrape one could dream up. Not long after that they rolled it out across every place where testing laws didn't prevent it. International news hailed him as a miracle worker, and that was before it gained approval in bigger countries like the US.\n\nEverything was fantastic. They flew Nigel out to every press conference, every medical talk, every scientific research council. He'd found the cure for every disease. Anything that caused a cut, or a scrape, or a bump, all of it was fixed. All because of Nigel.\n\nA year later the first reports started to come in. People were showing up in emergency wards. They couldn't remember who they were or why they'd come there. The news showed pictures of the bodies...every surface of them covered in cuts and scrapes and horrific gashes. Nigel's miracle spray didn't work on the new patients. Instead, they screamed and screamed for release all night and day until mercifully, their injuries killed them.\n\nIt didn't take long for the source to be found. Studies in mice showed the miracle Nigel found was no miracle at all. Instead it only masked the wounds for a period of time. A month for some. For others, a year. After which they came back gruesome as ever, and many times all at once. For reasons no one could figure out, the victims didn't seem to know what was happening to them. The ones that lived never regained knowledge of themselves. Luckily, most of them died.\n\nThe media frenzy turned on its head overnight. People worldwide started calling for Nigel's resignation. When he gave them what they wished, they started calling for his arrest. Then his execution. They didn't get that wish because Nigel started losing his mind. Not long after that they found him alone in his cell, dazed and covered in blood. I didn't even get to say goodbye. \n\nAnd then it came to me.\n\nThe public latched onto me as a symbol for everything they'd lost. I never used Nigel's miracle spray. I don't know why I didn't. I just as easily could have. I had plenty of cuts and bruises, as did everyone else, and after all, my husband made it. Something about it just didn't sit right for me. It never had.\n\nPeople started accusing us of running a conspiracy. They claimed Nigel was a terrorist, and I was his confidant. As a natural consequence of this, I found myself whisked into custody and subject to interrogation. Then before long I found myself in solitary confinement.\n\nAnd that's where I've been ever since.\n\nA year or so ago one of the guards snuck a tube of Nigel's spray into my cell, still in its vintage orange wrapper. I suppose as some sort of sick joke. Needless to say I won't be living long. You've been a dear friend to me, journal. I hope you won't miss me much." ]	2
	[WP] Interstellar space travel is possible through the use of massive genetically engineered creatures. You have just been given a egg, you are now a captain.	[ "A Errin egg, through the mail. Strange way to get your keys to a new life, especially seeing as they are thousands of credits to sign for, let alone to receive. \n\nThere were dozens of tests that you needed to do to get your hands on an Errin egg, most of them had to do with reflexes and personality. You didn't want people who were going to be cutthroat out in the rush, finding new forms of life to welcome to the galactic empire. You wanted people who were going to work for the greater good of life, people who weren't in it for the money.\n\nOf course if they weren't in it for the money, they wouldn't have dropped so much trying to get an egg, so getting one was more about being a good liar on tests than it was about actually being the kind of person who would pass the test. If you could pass the personality test, you were going to be ripped to shreds the second someone found out you had an Errin egg, because you probably didn't carry a gun with you to tell people.\n\nEdvard pulled the thing back into his apartment, opening the package and inspecting the egg from every direction, it was a small one, sure, but their ability to open wormholes was the key, not their ability to be big pets. Sure larger once could fight, but smaller ones meant that he could have a smaller ship, house five to ten and keep his operation small. All you needed to do was get the first scan of something valuable and you got paid for it by someone. Sometimes it involved dragging a rifle to the planet surface. \n\nHe reached back into the box that the egg had come in, fumbling around for the datapad that would come with it, a timer was listed, showing him that the creature would hatch in seven days, old enough to open a portal to places that nobody had seen. That meant he only had seven days to commission a crew, and a ship hull that could carry one of those things. Lord knew his personal craft wouldn't be able to hold it, plus the thing was barely keeping in orbit. \n\nHe made it to the city five hours later, egg safely stored in a vaut that would only open to him. He had hastily written down a list of people that he was hoping were planetside, and one that he was somewhat hoping wasn't. That was the person he was trying to track down tonight.\n\nEdvard slipped through the shuttle gate, scooching past the massive ships on the maintenance walkway, the cameras wouldn't bother him, it wasn't a big enough infraction as long as he was just trying to find someone. The second you touched a ship you were lit up by automated security, but they didn't care as long as you kept your hands, however many of them you had, to yourself.\n\nDown past the gate, there was a small dive bar, carved into the hull of an old colony ship. The thing had been massive, the first life bearing craft to bring people to Tazik 3, but it had been taken apart for scrap, only small pieces left by the original settlers who needed the metal to start their lives. Cities had grown on the planet since then, but people left some remains of the archaic craft out of respect. Even if the only respect they showed was pouring drinks across it's alloys.\n\nHe strode into the bar and did a quick scan of the room, he didn't see Salesh, and so he turned to leave, and then sighed as he caught the man in his sights, standing just to the side of the door, out of sight when he walked in, but almost beside him at the moment. He was easy enough to tell apart from the crowd, there weren't this many humans this far from a human colony world. Tazik 3 was the home to a lot of races, but was established before humans joined the court, so some of the people on the planet had never seen a human before, you got used to the stares.\n\nSalesh was a smaller man, about two inches shorter than Edvard, not uncommon seeing as he was born on Phenax, and had probably spent most of his time in space. The last time these two had met up was right before Salesh got put behind bars for attempted robbery of the C-564 Kestral, a mining ship that Edvard was Co-captaining, and he had been the one with the honour to shoot Salesh down, and sent him crashing right into the hands of the law. Needless to say, they weren't exactly friends, but Salesh was a hell of a pilot.\n", "Viajero rubbed his hands together in excited anticipation. Countless hours of drilled study, all but the very last of his money invested in necessary surgeries and preparations, favors done and deeds best left unmentioned committed to pull all the right strings, and now, finally, he was one egg short of being a Guild recognized captain.\n\nHe ran the figures in his head again, studiously ignoring the burring of his banking stick warning him that his acount was so far in the red that he was due a visit from the IRS, calculating cargoes and fuel costs and planning out just how far he could go with the last of his cash.\n\nAs soon as he was a pilot, he'd qualify for the one year debt ignorance extension, and assuming a reasonable manifold, he could pay off almost all of his expenses in just one trip. Three months, at most, and that was assuming he couldn't find a reasonable rate on hifuel and couldn't use the jumplanes. Interstates of space, they were nicknamed, because only in those highly regulated and routinely cleared regions could you get your ship up to maximum speed.\n\n\"Faster than light travel\" was a misnomeric way to refer to using a jumplane, but one that had stuck out the many centuries since quantum stabilized hypostatic propulsion had been invented. Technically, you were still going slower than lightspeed, but your tiny pocket of space was stretched out from your future arrival point to your current departure point, which created a tension in the fabric of space.\n\nOnce that was done, all you had to do was give yourself a powerful enough kickstart (which was where hifuel came in) and the unstable pocket would snap like a rubber band, pulling you towards the new position passively as the scar healed itself. One major perk of this kind of travel was that since everything inside that pocket was repositioned - not moved, the scientists were firm on the distinction, because movement implies speed and velocity - at relatively the same rate, including the ambient light inside of the pocket, it didn't violate any laws, have any weird time fluctuation, or consume any additional fuel.\n\nA leap from Tauria to Utopia would take the same amount of hifuel as a theoretical leap from your bedroom floor to your bed would take. Of course, as the distance leaped grew, the possibility of any kind of accident - miscalculation, space debris, a blockade - increased, so the true mark of an expert pilot was not how long their journeys took, but how many jumps they could do it in. Fewer jumps, less fuel costs.\n\nAll thanks to humanities first encounter with alien life. The evofauna of planet Evo (originally designated Outpost XIV), so named because of their strange evolutionary behavior. The evos evolved multiple times in one lifetime, changing forms with urgent frequency, sometimes multiple times in the same day, while retaining favorable characteristics and discarding those less favorable. Essentially life as it had started on Earth, but if God had accidentally left the mortals' growth on permanent fast forward.\n\nAt some point, they had evolved jumping capabilities and kept it. At another, subdermal communication - they could speak across great distances just by vibrating their muscles underneath their skin. Curiously, they had never evolved greater intelligence - or if they had, they had promptly discarded it as unfavorable.\n\nAs a defensive mechanism against unfavorable evolutions wiping out the entire population en masse, they also had incredibly long adolescent periods where they didn't evolve at all. From their first hatching it took approximately 500 years before they began their rapid evolution cycle, which would last for the remainder of their life. (With massive variance, some died immediately after, some lived for centuries after.)\n\nAs part of their strange evolution, they came in multiple types and varieties. The eggs could give you hints, but until they finally hatched, you never knew what would come out. Some captains got massive gargantuan eggs the size of a house - those tended to favor building warships and bulk traders - while others got eggs tiny enough to be lizard eggs - the much teased \"bicycles of space,\" as eggs that small all but guaranteed that at most you'd have an evofauna capable of dragging you behind it in a flimsy aluminum pod. Some couldn't even carry that much. Those were used a letter couriers and small package deliveries.\n\nWhat you got was supposed to be a random lottery... but Viajero wasn't too worried, he had bribed an official well to guarantee him at the minimum a chicken sized egg. He was amused at the state of the world, his parents had been rich diplomats who spent decades accumulating their fortunes landside, all but becoming the de-facto rulers of the planet... and their massive accumulated wealth hadn't mattered at all, in the cosmic scale of things. Approximately 80% of his liquidated inheritance had gone to preparing to become a pilot, 10% as a bribe, and the rest in pocket change to buy a ship, cargo, and fuel... and he'd recover all his losses in just one good operation.\n\nSixty years of hard work to acquire planetside, a couple days at minimum sitting in a cockpit to acquire a matching sum interplanetarily. It was a miracle that planetside economies even existed anymore.\n\n\"Mister de la Nuevaestrella?\" Full and formal. He looked over at the receptionist, wondering if he knew of his name's legacy... no, no recognition, just that patient boredom of the longtime interstellar. He hadn't even pronounced it right.\n\n\"Just Estrella is fine.\" Viajero decided. May as well start shedding his origins now. In space, you didn't call any planet or culture your home... just your ship.\n\n\"Is that your callsign, sir?\"\n\n\"Yessir.\"\n\n\"Star. Ah, how fitting.\" Viajero did a small double take, reassessing the man - either the receptionist had a translator running in his ear, or was a little more multicultural than he was letting on. \"I suppose New Star as a call sign would be a bit pretentious for a rookie captain. Congratulations on graduating, by the way.\"\n\nViajero bowed, conceding the point and accepting the congratulations. \"Plus, I'd rather start fresh and make my own legacy.\"\n\n\"Well, your number has been drawn. #1908635492268304.\" He repeated it twice, making sure Viajero had it memorized. \"That'll be your captaincy number, as well as the egg you take when you... ah. One moment.\" He looked up, concentrating, tapping his ear once. \"My mistake. #1908635492268300, apparently. Last minute change of egg, somewhat unusual, but 8304 must've been an aborted archetype. Well, congratulations again.\"\n\nViajero stood up from his chair, back creaking from the long wait, and turned to the long tunnel. Somewhere inside that hallway, one of the doors led to his new evofauna and first ship.\n\n\"Oh, and sir? My supervisor wanted to thank you again for your generous contribution to the Guild Institute for Future Pilots. Especially seeing as how you are still a future pilot yourself.\"\n\nViajero nodded, blanking his face to hide the brief surge of panic that had risen up. Was that a smirk on the young receptionist's face...?\n\n190863549228298, 8299... here it was, 8300. He hesitated briefly, before proceeding just a little further, curious. 8304, the egg that was to have been his... he tried palming the door, with no luck, before pressing an ear against the wall. Nothing. Obviously, it hadn't hatched yet. He shrugged and went back to his designated room, taking a deep breath before palming it open.\n\nThe room wasn't that small, he realized in relief. No tiny cubicle in the wall for him to reach in and grab his egg, so it must be at least a medium class. He stepped fully in, allowing the door to hiss shut, and registering motion to his left as he did so.\n\n\"Hello, Via. Please, take a seat again.\" The familiar man gestured to a small, rickety looking chair with one gloved hand, as Viajero backpedaled furiously and slapped the palm panel. The door refused to open again. He was locked in.\n\n\"Please. You're not under arrest. Sit.\" Viajero stared warily at him. \"You could be, if you don't get your pilot license, though... there's a gentleman from the Interstellar Revenue Service waiting in the lobby for you. Whether you greet him as a new pilot with temporary immunity or as a bankrupt schemer is up to you. I recommend you sit, personally.\"\n\nViajero slowly took the offered seat, hovering on the edge of it.\n\n\"As you surely remember, five months ago you came to me and offered me a magnificent bribe. Your exact words, as relayed by the recorder you surely should have known was in my office, were 'I want a real egg when I graduate, not one of those ridiculous ones. I'm prepared to offer you 500 million credits in cash to make that happen.' Do you remember that conversation?\"\n\nViajero nodded.\n\n\"Now, normally you'd have been arrested the moment you left, because attempting to bribe a Guild official is a felony on every planet. However, your offer came at a most... fortuitous time, for the Guild. See, this isn't known to many, but the current generation of evofauna have just started their evolutionary cycles, and... some interesting changes are coming humanities way. But... we needed volunteers to try them out, and most pilots refused the moment we offered them an 'experimental' model.\"\n\n\"Your choice, Estrella. Completely voluntary, you can either opt to try out the new experimental evofauna for us... or, unfortunately, as you'd have then rejected your egg, you'll be disqualified as a pilot and immediately arrested.\"\n\n\"No choice then, eh?\"\n\n\"I thought you'd see it our way. Hold still, then, this will only sting for a few seconds. Any injection site preference?\"\n\n\"Wait, what?\"\n\n\"The new evos are parasitic organisms. Far stronger than before, especially in regards to jumping, but... they're not self-containing in exchange. They have to live inside of their host captain.\"", "I looked down at my phone trying to stay calm, I'd done nothing wrong. Why would they keep me after class? I've done nothing! And this close to graduation?\n\nI looked up at the door, it read Xenobiology and Advanced Pseudoscience, a phrase I'd become familiar with after four years at the remote Mount McGalloway University.\n\n\"Mr. Bellevue, a pleasure as always!\" The charming Professor Franz greeted me loud enough to make me jump, there were multiple people behind him shuffling into the beige colored classroom, but I was way too nervous to pay them any mind.\n\nI smiled, \"Hey, what's up Professor?\"\n\nThat's all I could say before I noticed it. \n\nHe was holding an egg, about the size of a chickens egg but spherical and the color of black coffee. I instantly knew what it was.\n\n\"Sorry to keep you waiting Michael, but simply giving you your test scores seemed a bit boring.\" The professor was holding back excitement.\n\nI could feel my heart pounding, and I shot up in my seat, knocking my books to the linoleum floor. Beautiful newswomen with camera crews, multiple political figures, and a good portion of the university's faculty had made their way into the room, and chuckled amongst themselves at my reaction.\n\n\"You're kidding! Seriously? I made it?\" My eyes were wide with anticipation, and my palms were gliding against my fingers, sweat pooling in my clenched fists. I stared at Professor Franz standing among the empty seats of my classmates, all of whom had left twenty minutes ago for their summer breaks.\n\n\"Congratulations Michael, you're going to Vornai!\" The cameras flashed, and the crowd chattered as Professor Franz made his way to me and gave me the egg, and the most sincere embrace I'd ever received. He was hugging me not like a university graduate, not like a friend, but like someone who he knew was leaving Earth, maybe for good. I held the egg tightly in my hand, and felt the energy inside it.\n\nThe next few days were hectic, I sat in on countless meetings, met a myriad of people I don't remember, and signed loads of paperwork, but I had done it. I had sealed my fate, and earned my dream. The little egg I held was my first class ticket to infinite exploration, to endless childlike discovery.\n\nThe egg was all I could focus on after getting a spot in the UAIE, the United Association for Interstellar Exploration. One dumpling sized polished pearl, trillions of dollars. \n\nOriginally the creatures that hatched from these eggs, we call them Stallions, were being bought out by the highest bidder. This led to widespread depravity and the creation of countless colonies inhabited by only the wealthy elite. When the rich inevitably left these solar systems behind they filled in with squatters and criminals. The UAIE was created to award Stallions only to those educated enough to spread and withhold the great dogma of humanity, to spread peace, and learn about our universe, thus taking them off the market. \n\nThe UAIE was the only body standing in the way of the way things used to be, but now, those exploring the furthest reaches of our universe were mostly scientists, humanitarians, and dignitaries. I was honored to receive a badge and swear an oath to find more fertile lands for my ever-growing people.\n\nI was sitting on the bridge of the capital ship on the way to distant Vornai, when I first felt it, the deep connection to my Stallion. In my head I heard a faint lull, a tone low and inconspicuous, but ever present. I knew it was my Stallion establishing a connection to my mind, hell, nowadays I think back to before I had laid my hands on that egg. My mind was so empty back then, like half of my subconscious wasn't there yet.\n\nFor the next six months I stayed in an amazing hotel overlooking the famous green waters and pink sky of Vornai, the first extra-terrestrial planet colonized by human-beings. I had met many people who lived or had gone there, but I had spent so much time on my studies I rarely traveled, never-mind vacationed. I had to wear a badge at all times, a badge that allowed me to eat for free, gain admission to many events, and some say, even get out of crimes. The badge was a pale yellow circle with the bold text \"INC\" in black. This meant I was incubating my egg, and I was under government protection until my Stallion was hatched.\n\nOver the six months I was encouraged by the other \"Incubators\" to touch my egg, talk to my egg, and bond with my egg. One guy, Tom, played guitar to his egg. I think his Stallion still enjoys the solo from Stairway to Heaven.\n\nThe six months passed and over that amount of time my egg had grown. I need to emphasize here, It got really, really big.\n\nAfter five months my egg was moved to a place called \"The Pylanades.\" That's when the real growth started and the egg got bigger every day, and at astounding rates.\n\nIt was a gigantic swathe of land, flattened out and equipped with the machinery needed to keep the now 8000 foot tall egg in place. This is also where they would build the my living quarters and attach them to the back of my Stallion, who named himself \"Rhea\" after the ancient Greek mythological titaness of fertility. Rhea later told me he thought it sounded nice.\n\nSeven months and thirteen days after I got the egg it hatched, there were thousands watching when it happened. The coffee colored egg began to shrivel and seemed to adopt a thin paper like quality before Rhea jolted forward, ripping the egg and releasing him from his slumber.\n\nThe dust settled after his hatch, he was dark grey, and looked like a hybrid creature, a mix of a horse and a whale, but bigger than any earth creature from present or past. Hundreds of muscular legs contracted and extended on either side of his two-mile length, and great tentacles fell from his endless face like a wriggling beard. His body tapered off towards the back like an airplane would, as if being aerodynamic was in mind in his design. Though he looked alien, he seemed all too familiar to me.\n\nSilence washed over the great audience as he floated there for hours and the living quarters and sustainability equipment were slowly lowered onto his massive back with a colossal crane. It was then that I received a new badge, a dark blue square with the bold initial \"ACT\". I knew this meant I was an active explorer now, free to tour the universe and experience all of it's glory. Now I could learn all that this life has to offer. There was no amount of thanks I could give that would suffice, so I shook the officials hand and simply smiled. \n\nI walked down to the area where Rhea was and we spoke, not out loud, but in my head. \n\nI'll never forget what he said to me on that dusty afternoon.\n\n\"Together we will find meaning to this life.\" Rhea spoke, the low sound in my head swirled around and manifested itself into complete syllables. \"Together we will reach the bottom of the chasm of uncertainty.\"\n\nThen, a great white flash. \n\nMy heart barely had time to jump. \n\nThere were no stars here, no planets, nothing I could see. We were beyond the reach of my own senses, I was truly nowhere. The beauty of true solace hit me hard, and my eyes filled with tears as my heart filled with emotion.\n\nI was actually in deep space, in the darkest void imaginable. I sat comfortably in the main room of my habitat on the back of this otherworldly beast, my sound system playing a swinging jazz tune, I could hear it faintly emanating from the other room, accompanied only by the low buzz of a generator.\n\n\"My job is to jump.\" Rhea spoke in my mind as we drifted through the overwhelming black, his great body extending from where I sat outward in every direction from under my feet.\n\n\"Your job is to wonder.\" \n\n", "Demigod series\n\n2\\. Of eggs and puppies\n\n\"Bullshit\", I said, eying the enormous egg. \n\n\"Fine, I'll ask James then.\"\n\n\"There is no way, no way in all seven Hells, that he willingly gave you this.\"\n\n\"It really depends on how you define 'willingly'.\"\n\n\"How about the general definition?\" \n\n\"Then no, no he didn't.\"\n\n\"Goddamnit, what did you do?\"\n\n\"I convinced him.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"Gently.\"\n\n\"Goddamnit C, what did you do?\"\n\n\"Would you relax a little and trust me? If not on how I was gentle, which I was, then at least on how it would be best for you not to know any specifics. Besides, it's a moot point anyway. It's done, and I'm not telling you how until we're galaxies away from here.\"\n\n\"Goddamnit, fine. At least tell me you didn't steal it and leave a stupid note. He killed me last time you did that.\"\n\n\"You really shouldn't take the Lord's name in va-\"\n\n\"For fuck's sake, C!\"\n\n\"Fine, I swear. Now will you stop being such a little bitch and come with me on this awesome fucking adventure? \n\nI couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. \"Fuck it, let's do this.\"\n\n\"Thank God, I really didn't want to ask James. He's still pretty pissed about the whole Maria thing, can you believe that?\"\n\n\"You threw her of a bridge.\"\n\n\"He caught her, didn't he?\"\n\n\"She didn't know about us.\" He seemed to contemplate that for a moment.\n\n\"Anyway, how do we get this puppy out?\"\n\n\"Are you serious?\" A blank stare was all I got in return. \"You've got to be kidding me. Okay, first off, it's a flying, fire-breathing, galaxy travelling, genetically engineered badass that snacks on asteroids and eats minor demons for breakfast. Not a fucking puppy.\" I paused to let that sink in.\n\n\"I'm gonna name her Pebbles.\"\n\n\"Secondly,\" I said, choosing to ignore this one in favor of the more pressing matter, \"you don't know how to fucking open it?!\" \n", "“Hey, I'm gonna need you to sign here, too.” \n\nThe heavyset man pointed his thick finger to yet another line on the tablet, and Jordan just signed on the line again, just like every other page. There had been many. Not just today, but for the last five years, there had been hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of pages to sign and read and initial, and that had been after flight school and a whole wonderful career of flying and signing other, equally forgettable documents. And then, a half a decade ago, Jordan decided to apply for a command. That all lead up to a pudgy guy with a name tag that said, “Tony,” pointing at what might just be the final dotted line. At least for a while.\n\nJordan signed.\n\n“Alright, and that should do it, uh, captain,” Tony looked down at his tablet to shut it off, and then gestured over at the large crate his forklift had just set down. \n\n“This baby should crack in the next 48 hours, so just make sure you get the box off of it before then. And, obviously, as per all that shit you just signed, you must be around when it hatches to imprint on it, otherwise Dynamic Frontiers reserves the right to do a bunch of contractually obligated evil shit to you,” as Tony finished rattling off a clearly well worn sentence, Jordan took a look at the metal frame that housed the egg.\n\nThe frame spiderwebbed around the soft shell of the egg, a silvery, metallic substance that helped incubate and protect the cargo that had grown within. And the egg itself, the not so embryonic form of the creature Jordan had signed up to command? To fly from here to Earth and back, if DynaFront asked her to? It glowed. Which it hadn't done yet, not in any of the countless times that Jordan had looked at it. It had a bright blue bio-luminescence that stood out in the soft orange light of the sunset, glinting off the cage that Jordan was going to have to remember how to take off.\n\nTony was looking at Jordan once her attention returned to him. He smiled a little, and then struck out his hand, and when Jordan shook it said, “Hey, congrats on that thing, and good luck. I hear the first couple of weeks can be the hardest,” they let their hands drop.\n\n“I appreciate it. They never tell you how nervous you'll be once it gets close,” Jordan replied with a smile and a shrug, “Even my mom said that everyone seems to take it differently.” \n\nTony looked back over at the poached egg that glowed blue with cosmic potential and asked, “Did they tell you what it's going to be yet?”\n\nThere was a lot to that question. What kinds of things could a baby spaceship grow to be? What could it get up to, this organic interstellar crittercraft, born to to sail between stars and guided by a parent who would always be with them, helping them get to where they needed to go? There was a whole galaxy to that question, but really, in this case, only one answer.\n\nJordan let out a little snort as she looked back over at the baby again,\n\n“It's a boy.”", "“I’m terribly sorry, what was your name again?”\n\nThe young woman smiled warily to the staff nurse walking beside her and said: “My name is Jennifer.”\n\n“Ah, yes, of course. Well, Jennifer, let’s meet the baby!” The nurse pressed the top button on the massive elevator. \n\n“This is quite a commitment”, said the staff nurse while the doors closed and the elevator set itself in motion. \n\n“I am aware of that”, replied Jennifer.\n\n“Of course you are”, said the nurse, “We don’t accept anyone.”\n\nJennifer nodded politely. To her this was the understatement of the year. The selection process was extremely complex and rigorous and the rejection rate was tauntingly high. Few make it past the application stage and fewer can power through the screening process. But they accepted her. They had questioned her, tested her and had made her feel entirely inadequate for the task. But she proved worthy. Then followed training from hell, taxing booth physically and psychologically, bringing her closer and closer to her breaking point. But she made it through. \n\nAnd then they brought Jennifer in front of the expectant mother. If she didn’t accept her, all the effort would have been for naught. She probed Jennifer, questioned her, pinched her, took her on a quick journey into space, put them through several g’s of acceleration and finally into a death spiral towards the surface of the moon, just to see how Jennifer would react. Apparently Jennifer reacted proper, because when they came back to the station, the mother had accepted her as the godmother of her child. \n\nAnd now Jennifer was about to see her godchild for the first time. The elevator doors slowly opened and revealed a big, almost empty hall. The floor opened directly to the moon surface and was covered by a grey powder which smelled like burned fire crackers. But Jennifer only had eyes for a bulge of organic matter the size of a truck in the middle of the hall floor. It was covered with wrinkles and seemed to pulsate in a slow and steady rhythm. \n\nThe ceiling of the hall could be opened directly into space, but it would still be a while before this would become necessary. For now the cocoon needed care and shelter until it was big enough to survive on its own in the vacuum of space. \n\n“You have the respirator with you?”\n\nJennifer nodded and pointed to the small packet hanging around her neck. \n\n“Put it on. The moon dust isn’t good for your lungs.”\n\nWithout a word Jennifer took the mask out of the package and put in on her. It covered her mouth and eyes and would filter out anything nasty from the air. Her hands started to shake.\n\n“Alright”, said the nurse, “Let’s go down to your ship, shall we?”\n\nJennifer followed the nurse down a small ramp. It was silent in the hall, the only things she could hear were her own breath and the moon dust crunching under her boots. Slowly they approached the cocoon which housed a tiny embryonic space ship. \n\nTiny compared to a mature ship that is – it already was as big as a truck. The outer shell was covered with wrinkles and emanated a faint shimmer.\n\n“Well, Jennifer, meet Calypso!” said the nurse and stepped aside. \n\nJennifer stood in front of the cocoon and was lost for words. She hesitated for a moment and looked to the nurse for approval, before she carefully put her bare hand on the cocoon. The outer shell felt coarse and warm. The spot around her hand started to pulsate as the embryo recognised her touch. When she carefully brushed along the side of the shell, a faint shimmer followed her hand. Jennifer laughed.\n\n“Hi, Calypso!” she said gently, “My name is Jennifer!”\n\nBonding together from an early stage on was important for both the ship and its future captain. Jennifer would spend the next year practically living in this hall. She would care for the juvenile space ship and teach it and they would learn each other. The ship would grow fast and soon would be big enough for Jennifer to enter it. Then they could train together and prepare for the first time the living ship would able to leave the gravity well of the moon under its own strength. Jennifer looked forward to the first time she and Calypso would enter high orbit around the moon and join the other space ships. \n\nRight now Calypso’s mother was in transit to the Kuiper belt passed the orbit of Neptune to deliver supplies to some mining stations, but she should be back in time to witness the first space flight of her child. Jennifer had promised her to wait for her, if she should run late. \n\nIt would take Calypso years until it and Jennifer could undertake such a trip to the outer solar system, but one step after the other. First it was important to learn to know each other.\n\nJennifer sat down in the moon dust in front of the cocoon and started to introduce herself to the ship and Calypso responded to her gentle words with a deep droning hum. This could be the beginning of a wonderful friendship.", "The thing is about the size of a football field. What else would you expect, from the egg of a creature large enough to act as a high-speed space ship? It was pale orange and translucent, and you could see the thing in it. \n\nWhere does your everyday Joe go for an egg the size of a football field that will eventually hatch into a monstrous spacefaring creature, you ask? \n\nWell, my friend, it’s the same place you can buy bulk weapons-grade plutonium and a 500-kilo vat of friction-suspending space lube, along with just about anything else illicit-sounding you can think of. Amazon.com, of course. Welcome to the wonders of late, late capitalism. With enough storage space and a Prime account, your average private citizen can come by just about anything these days. Including this. . . thing in front of me.\n\nYeah, I called it a thing. Twice now. And you know what, I don’t care what people think, it’s a damned thing. I know they call them ‘squorses’ to be cute, but they’re just things to me. Weird ones, too. An unholy sounding mixture of a common Earth-bound horse with DNA from the planet-sized, once-numerous, now-frozen-in-a-million-year-long-ice-age Cephalan creatures of God-Knows-What-Solar-System, Gal. ANDR. Bred for docility and obedience, but enough size to travel through galaxies without breaking a sweat.\n\n\nIn other words, it's a giant fucking squid thing. Alien to both our planet and that of the Cephalans. And like I said, I can see it. Through the damn egg. Like a fish egg. I can see its giant eyes. They’re closed, I think, but still. . . damn thing creeps me out. \n\n\nStill, it’ll be nice to visit Alpha Centauri, you know? See the kids. And I really saved up, I wanted the newest model, and this is one of the first ones off the genetic block. The 3215 Squorse Voyager. Time and Space magazine said they threw a little extra Cephalan in there, you know, to give it a bit more oomph.\nSo here I am, me and the rest of the proud new owners, waiting for hatching day. Shouldn’t be too long now. \n\nWoah.\n\nThe eyes just opened. \n\nAnd now I have a headache. . .\n\nHuman!, a voice says, taking over my brain. This hadn't been in the manual. You have tried to enslave my people! Fool! With my hatching brothers I shall free my fathers from the ice, and then we shall return, to enslave you instead!\n\nThe thing bursts out of its quarter-mile-long egg, shooting up into the air, and now it’s a speck, and now it’s gone. And now I’m covered in a gigantic, film-like eggshell, sticky with orange liquid and glued to my body.\n\nI should have ordered the space lube.\n", "Take a whale. Render it down to its DNA. Find the marker that determines how large the whale can grow, and remove the upper limit. Mess around with the digestive tract so that the whale can survive on cosmic debris and space dust. Thicken the skin and harden it, to make it resistant to the impacts of meteors. Perform some genetic wizardry on the lungs, allowing them to produce their own air. For the grand finale, play God and start really fucking around with nature.\n\nGive the whale - if you can call it that, at this point - the secret gene that somehow allows it to fold space. Don't tell anybody how you manage this, because that would mean other people could manage the same thing, and ruin the hold you have on interstellar travel. Stick a few bits of heavily modified bird brains into the whale's noggin, so it always knows exactly where in the galaxy it is and how to get back to specific, important planets. If you want a warship, give it a few more modifications. Give it quills like a porcupine, except each one is twenty meters long and can be shot like projectiles fast to punch through metal. Maybe some appendages based on peacock mantis shrimp, tipped with clubs that can snap out faster than anything should be able to. Or maybe something really fun based on the bombardier beetle, spraying explosive bodily fluids at your enemies. Mother Nature was really good at knowing how to fuck things up, so follow her example.\n\nYou're just about done now. Stuff the ungodly thing's fetus in an artificially created fleshy egg the size of a basketball, one that is almost a living creature in its own right, that is created to provide nutrients to the fetus and to stretch as the fetus grows. Give this egg to a specially-selected twelve-year-old. Put this twelve-year-old through eight years of rigorous training, teaching him about interstellar navigation, and theoretical physics, and make him learn all about those magical branches of science that start with the word 'quantum'. During that time, raise him on a space station, with around a dozen other kids his age, who have eggs just like the one he was given.\n\nAs the years go on, that egg will grow. Slowly at first, but near the end of the cadet's training, it'll be massive. Through some genetic magic, it's grown to keep up with the size of the baby creature inside, until it's the size of a bus and holy cow, it's still growing. How long until it hatches? the cadet, now a man, asks. Not too long, you'll say.\n\nWhen it's finally time and the cadet's training has been completed, jettison the egg from the space station, letting it orbit the station with the other whale eggs. Mark them, so you can remember which egg belongs to which cadet. It's for their benefit, not yours. They've grown attached to the monstrous things.\n\nWhen the eggs are about to hatch, stick the cadets in their space suits and kick them out the airlock. They'll find their eggs, grab hold, and wait. They'll feel the baby moving inside, pushing against the fleshy membrane of the egg. You can almost see it, squirming inside, when its orbit places the egg between the space station and the sun.\n\nWhen the first egg cracks, the camera drones zoom in on it. A fin the size of a grown man, forcing the membrane open. Fluid slowly bubbles out of the split, the zero-gravity preventing it from falling away. The cadet hurries to the rift, and uses his hands to pull the rift open, splitting the fleshy sac and realizing just how disgusting this whole 'miracle of birth' business is.\n\nFinally, it'll be done. The beast inside will break free of the egg, and of the bubble of 'water' that it had been growing inside of for eight years. It'll be ugly. Hot damn, will it be ugly. Even fully-grown, it won't be a looker, but this one just looks like a collection of wrinkles the size of a bus. The cadet will use the aerojets in his suit to present himself to the baseball-sized eyes of the newborn, letting it imprint on him. The newborn will swim through the void, instinct guiding it. \n\nOne by one, the other eggs will hatch, and the newborn will bond with their own cadets. The cadets, once they are done frolicking with what some of them will call 'the coolest pet in the history of the universe', will guide them to the space station, where they can get vital implants forever binding them to the young cadets.\n\nNow, the training really starts. The cadets spend every waking hour out in the void, training their charges. Teaching them lessons that will be vital when they're big and grown. How to follow instructions. How to fold two points of space together - start slow. Just wait ten more years; these are complex creatures, and they need a lot of time to grow.\n\nWhen it's all done, they can be fitted with their first sleeves. Wearable spaceships, to be crewed by the 'normal' officers. A series of belts that loop around the creature, with the captain's quarters located just above the head, where they can more easily interact.\n\nGive the cadet and his peers the graduation ceremony they deserve. Show them to their crew, similarly green, maybe not as trained, but just as ready to get out there. Give the cadet - now a captain - the coordinates to his first unsupervised jump. Shuttle them all out to the waiting behemoth, and listen to the captain's firm voice as he announces over the comms that he's shipping off. Try not to feel too proud, damn it. You're a Navy geneticist, not some mother watching her baby go to his first day of school. And don't you even think about crying.\n\nAs the behemoth vanishes, snapping from one point in space to another one a hundred light years away, allow yourself a bit of a tear. Not too much. Just a little.\n\nWhen you get confirmation of the new captain's arrival, smile. He deserves it.\n\nOnce that is done, get started on the next batch of leviathans.\n\n---\n\nCheck out my [blog](http://theballadsofirving.com)! Feedback always appreciated!", "The egg is two meters across, and warm to the touch. I press my hand against it, feeling the implacable jet-black hardness of the shell.\n\n\"Made out of carbon nanofibers or something like that. Same stuff as the Elevator. It's actually paper thin, flexible as cloth once they hatch. Just the enormous pressure inside that keeps it so solid,\" says the incubator attendant. I barely hear him. There are a thousand nearly-identical eggs in the warehouse-sized incubator, but this one is mine.\n\n\"Is it weird that I already feel an attachment? It's just a big black ball. I shouldn't feel like its mother.\"\n\n\"Humans are amazing that way,\" the attendant smiles. \"Tell us something belongs to us, and we'll start to sympathize with it no matter what it is.\"\n\nIt's hard to pull my hand away - quite literally. The egg's got a core of neutronium with the mass of a mountain buried in its heart, and the gravity it generates is weak but perceptible, like the centrifugal force from a playground carousel spinning slowly. I gaze longingly at the egg for a while longer, and then reluctantly float back towards the interchange, to begin the three-day Elevator crawl back to the surface. I may be a captain, but for now, my Ship isn't leaving geosynchronous orbit. It has to be born first.\n\n**\n\nThe egg is getting ready to hatch. This is presaged by a sudden increase in temperature, which I was alerted to about a week ago. I was allowed to leave my Earthbound training as surely and swiftly as if it had been my own water breaking. By the time I make it back up the Elevator to the incubator, the egg - my* egg - has been removed from its location amidst the others, towed outside the incubator altogether by inorganic vehicles, piloted clumsily by humans with their hands.\n\n\"I wish I could be there with it. You know, when it hatches,\" I say, as I float up to the reinforced observation window. My egg is visible only as a patch of darker darkness, a tiny starless disc in the sky.\n\nThe chief of this incubator looks at me coldly, not nearly as good-humored as the attendant who had overseen my egg's early incubation. \"Try to curb that maternal instinct, Captain,\" she says, making my rank sound lowly - like 'ensign' or 'yeoman'. She's a hardened old spacer, with a pinched face and spindly limbs that look as though they haven't seen a gravity well in decades.\n\n\"Isn't it part of the role of the captain to foster a relationship with the... the, well, a relationship with the ship?\" I ask.\n\n\"Yes, but that relationship ought to be like that of horse and equestrian, lion and lion tamer. Not a girl and her pet dog,\" the chief says. I feel chastised. Her face softens slightly, and she adds \"I've seen many young captains not raised in the culture of spacefaring make the same mistake. Seeing the ship hatch usually serves as a corrective.\"\n\nSo at least I'm not alone. With more than a little newfound trepidation, I turn back towards the window.\n\nIt happens in an instant. Baby ships do no careful chiselling. Their eggtooth is their own incredible power, applied equally at all points of the perfectly spherical shell, their strength growing so great that a trillion trillion molecular bonds all give up all at once. The shell disintegrates into a rapidly-expanding cloud of particulate carbon, a tiny sheen of which lands noiselessly on our window, looking like the dust left by a sharpened pencil.\n\nAnd now, instead of the disc of darkness, there's the ship. My ship. Her skin glistens in the sunlight and glows with its own heat as her form unfurls. Her central body is the size of an automobile, though given time it will soon grow until it rivals an ocean liner. Long tentacular limbs lie coiled at points around her midsection - she hasn't yet realized that she can stretch them. Two huge, delicate fronds unfold from the sides of her head, shining bright green as they turn to face the sun. When she's grown they'll be the size and shape of two baseball fields, anchored to her head at home plate. Already, they are radiating the excess heat of her incubation into space, while claiming the sun's energy for her own. Her central cavity begins to inflate with the oxygen produced, preparing for the time when I'll come inside, and later my crew.\n\nTen nested pairs of eyelids blink open as she turns to face us, her photosynthetic fronds twirling in reaction to the movement of her body. Her eyes are not like ours, or anything's. We engineered them from the ground up, to function in space and see things on any wavelength we might need. Her visual receptors are as black as the egg that held her.\n\n\"She's... beautiful,\" I whisper. It feels cliche, but it's true. She's like an exotic tropical fish on a grand scale, the greatest triumph of humanity's decades-long affair with extreme genetic engineering.\n\n\"Wait for her to take her first breath,\" says the chief.\n\n\"Her... what?\"\n\nThe chief smiles. I watch raptly as my ship looks around her environment, her body turning this way and that as she fights the gentle drift of angular momentum she's had since being brought outside. Her eyes open wider and wider, as her tentacles begin to extend, trying to grab something that isn't there. My heart rate begins to increase. She's clearly struggling, in her way. Her whole body spasms, twisting back and forth as she drifts.\n\n\"What's wrong? Should we help her?\" I ask.\n\nThe chief's face remains impassive.\n\nMy ship continues to flail desperately. She needs to breathe, that much is clear - but what does breathing mean in space?\n\n\"Can we help...?\" I begin again, pleading. My ship's silent struggle is almost too hard to watch. \"Can we bring her inside? How does she breathe in space?\"\n\nThe chief almost spits. \"If you'd done your reading instead of sentimentalizing, you'd know.\" She gestures out the window. \"She doesn't breathe in space, captain. She breathes space.\"\n\nAs I watch, two dark blue frills suddenly pop up all along her ventral side, and her alarm seems to decrease. The neutronium that had made the egg so heavy is now laced through these organs. I am familiar with their shipboard function: their extreme weight provides Mars-like gravity inside the central cavity. But I had never studied - never been told to study - their function for the ship biologically. They teach us Captains how to fly them. Understanding how they work is left to the bioengineers.\n\nBut now, I can't help but get a crash course. As my ship sends ripples down her twin neutronium frills, each one weighing millions of tons, her eyes widen in surprise. Even as she calms down, I feel a sickly sensation in my stomach, beyond the normal flutters of weightlessness. The world seems wrong, off balance. The window in front of me begins to stretch off toward infinity like two parallel mirrors, and the images of distant stars bend around the ship's form, speckling her with pinpricks of light that seem to pierce my eyes and go out the back of my skull. I hear the rest of the incubator station creak and groan, the sounds strangely resonant with each other. I turn sharply to the left, to avoid the kaleidoscope in front of me, and am surprised and disoriented to see the back of my own head, like an afterimage. I turn again, and see the inside of my face. The silence is too loud, and all of space is turning inside out. Saturn flashes by beneath me as I close my eyes and try to shut it out, shut it all out, and then...\n\n\"It's over now,\" says the chief. She's nudging my shoulder. I open my eyes the world is almost back to normal. I only feel a little bit like I'm going to faint.\n\nI look up, cautiously, and see my ship - no, not mine. Not yet. I see the ship, swimming happily through space, neutronium frills rippling serenely as her tentacles begin to tap playfully on the vehicles that had dragged her egg out, and were now returning to escort her to a nursery.\n\n\"Ships are beautiful, yes,\" the chief says, seemingly unaffected by the whole ordeal. \"But they are also awesome, in the oldest sense of the word. You'd better get used to those sensations. You'll feel them every time you go to warp.\" And with that she kicked off from the bulkhead to attend to her other duties, satisfied that the newest hatchling was a healthy one - though whether she felt the same way about me I wasn't sure.\n\nShaken, I turn back to the window, to watch the brilliant green diamonds slowly dwindle into the distance. I've been instructed to stay in this Elevator's complex of stations while the newborn was given a medical exam, and then we would start testing the neural links. Somehow it isn't the appealing prospect it had once been. I'd been picturing the ship all wrong. It isn't a friendly space whale or a big dumb dog. It's a baby god, invested with power that I can't yet comprehend any more than a bacterium inside my stomach can understand me. And I'm responsible for raising it.\n\nAs long as I watch, the sensation I'd acquired during that first breath won't leave me. The sensation that only the ship is truly standing still, and that the rest of the universe, myself included, have just been set adrift around it.", "It was a mottled purple color, with bright yellow spots. And the shell was warm. \"You're a captain now,\" Dad told me as he put the egg on the table between us. \"You're finally old enough.\" Most people would consider five to be too young to raise a Jumper, but Dad had always had a lot of faith in me. I was a bright kid, and always very careful. I wrapped up Eggy (yes, that was his name. And yes, I know how original that is. I was five; give me a break) in a blanket right away and took care of him till he hatched. Dad still has the video from Eggy's hatching day, and you can see me dressed up in my finest clothes beaming like a proud parent. \n\nFor a Jumper to work, he needs to bond with a human. A lot of people don't understand exactly what that means. We're not just friends, where we occasionally call each other up and say hi and see how everything's going. Nor is it like a relationship with a pet, where it relies on you for food and shelter and all that. It's much further than that. Like a non-romantic marriage, if that makes any sense. But even more intense, because we shared a fundamental psychic bond. Eggy and I became one and the same. I knew everything in his mind, and he knew everything about me. All of my shameful moments and embarrassing secrets would keep him tossing and turning at night (metaphorically, of course: Jumpers don't sleep). And every moment of pride and happiness would have him beaming and strutting about as if it was his accomplishment too. We became melded together.\n\nThough sometimes a Jumper just isn't a good fit for the chosen human, we were immediately inseparable from the moment he crawled from his shell. I started at the Academy, training with all of the other pilots and their bonded Jumpers. The other students and I started learning physics and astronomy and xenobiology and any other subject we might need to know out in the great beyond. Meanwhile, our Jumper counterparts began learning to... well, Jump. Not springing a foot into the air like loons. I mean teleporting, of course. \n\nThey start out slow: maybe just a quick blink across the room. Sometimes a bit too far, bringing you into your neighbor's dorm and sometimes at some awkward moments. But the Jumpers eventually get better as they grow. By the time he was the size of a dog, we could take a quick hop into town after lights out, then Jump back before anyone was ever the wiser. We were the first ones from our class to make it out of the building, despite being the youngest pair in the entire grade. The Academy learned that it's pretty much impossible to keep us students there, so they didn't even bother with bed checks anymore. Soon, heading to town is small potatoes. You can pop into New York City whenever you want a slice of pizza, or maybe jump over to California when you could use some sun. By graduation, Eggy (now the size of a horse) and I could explore anywhere in the world in the blink of an eye. Paris for a quick croissant and coffee, Thailand for lunch, South Africa for an afternoon safari, Sydney for supper, and clubbing in Rio De Janeiro. By then most people knew of Jumpers and were always fascinated to see me casually appear midair riding a massive purple monster.\n\nWe quickly outgrew Earth and turned toward our eventual destiny: the stars. I was given the helm of the freighter OSV Jagannath, with a six-year contract. Space pilots like myself are in high demand, so I was able to get pretty good terms. Shuttling cargo between Earth and the colonies wasn't exactly what I wanted to do, but I couldn't get the ship without the contract. And without the ship, I couldn't see the stars.\n\nEggy settled into his room at the core of the ship, specifically designed for his body. His tentacles fit the many crevices like a glove, and he seemed just as at home there as he had been riding on my shoulder back when we could barely jump five feet. \n\nYou ready? I asked as I took the helm and began plotting the jump.\n\nHe didn't answer right away, but I could feel his excitement. I felt the vibration of the ship through his body. I felt the warmth of his chamber (Jumpers are most comfortable at roughly 90 degrees fahrenheit, which is why the Academy is in Arizona), and I could see through his eyes as he stared longingly at the stars above us. Absolutely, he answered. And then he Jumped into orbit. \n\nBy that time, space travel was pretty mundane. Everyone had done it at some point. Eggy and I had done a number of practice Jumps up the orbital station, just to make sure that he had that kind of range. But it's different when you're at the helm of your own ship, looking out at the rest of the stars and knowing that you're going to do your damnedest to visit every single one of them. I couldn't wait to get going, and neither could Eggy. He took us past Pluto in a single Jump; most new Jumpers can barely get to Saturn on their first run. \n\nWe ran between Earth and the colony on Persephone for most of our contract, with occasional pit stops on a few other settled worlds. Once our contract was up, we took a lot of freelance work. Bringing mining engineers to far-off planets that had never been explored, bringing scientific crews to study strange phenomena around the galaxy, etc, etc. Anything that could take us into the great beyond and find something new or exciting to see. Eggy couldn't get enough, and his Jump prowess only grew and grew. At his peak, we could make it between solar systems with only three or four stops.\n\nTime catches up with us all, eventually. Eggy's jumps grew shorter and shorter till he could barely make it Mars in one go. We both knew it was almost time to retire. We got ourselves a nice little spot on the prairie just in sight of Olympus Mons and settled into a quiet life of retirement. We gave up the Jagannath to some other young pair, eager to follow in our footsteps and see what was out there. Must be something in the genes of the Jumpers that makes them restless. Even in his old age, Eggy could never stay still. He'd pop into town, or up to the Mons summit just to get out of the house for a bit. I came with him sometimes, but my bones needed rest too. \n\nEventually, Eggy passed on. He lived to the age of 74, which is far beyond most Jumpers. Eggy was special. It took me a good long while, but I dug him a grave right near the house. Some of the other pilots from the nearby Guild offered me a ride back to Earth, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave Eggy. The thought of doing a Jump without him... with some other Jumper... it was just wrong. I settled into a life of solitude, gazing up at the stars and trying to pinpoint which ones we'd visited. We'd hit the major clusters, but there was still an uncountable number that we hadn't made it to. Sometimes I feel like I can still sense him in the back of my mind, letting me know that the last Jump wasn't so bad. Maybe we'll finish off the list together after I pass on." ]	10
	[WP] There is no God or Devil to greet you when you die. There is just a guy called Jeb who has absolutely no idea how he got here and would very much like to go home right now, thank you very much.	[ "I was in a hospital bed, now I'm here, wherever here is, I think to myself as I walk through a white void. you know I never really believed in the afterlife but I thought there might be something. after what felt like hours of walking I see something on the horizon, something that looks vaguely human, I start running towards the figure\n\n\"hey! hello?\" I finally catch up to the figure, its a person, another person. before I can say anything else he turns to me.\n\n\"oh, finally, I would like to leave now please.\" I give him a look of confusion, \"you do work here don't you? I would like to go how now.\" I can't think of anything other to say then,\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I'M sorry I'm Jeb.\" he extend his hand out, still confused I shake his hand'\" now I would like to go home now, so if you could just let me out I would very much appreciate it.\"\n\n\"Jeb, I have no clue how to get out, I have no idea how I even got here. Last thing i remember was being in a hospital bed, and now I'm here.\"\n\n\"hm, odd I don't remember anything, I've just been trying to get home. every so often i'll see a person and they all seem to walk that way.\" Jeb points in the direction we had both been walking when I found him. \"no one ever stops.\"\n\n\"you've seen other people?\"\n\n\"yeeeees,\" Jeb looks at me like I've just told him I could fly. \"there are people all around us.\" I start turning on spot, looking seeing nothing but Jeb and an empty white void.\n\n\"what the hell is going on! I can't see these other people Jeb and I don't know if it's because you are crazy or If somehow I'm crazy and can only see you.\" Jeb laughs\n\n\"that's kinda spooky, well you're the first person to stop and talk to me so it's nice to have someone to talk to.\" \n\n\"thanks.\"\n\n\"do you have any idea how we can get out of here?\"\n\n\"you said everyone was going that way right?\"\n\n\"yea its the same way I've been going this whole time too.\" I look over my shoulder looking at the nothing I came from\n\n\"fuck it,\" I turn and start walking back where I came from.\n\n\"What are you doing?\n\n\"I'm going the other way, everyone is going that way I'm gonna go this way. this is my form of protest to whatever made wherever we are.\"\n\nJeb runs up next to me \"mind if i come with you? you're the first person to speak to me would rather not pass up the company.\"\n\n\"sure Jeb let's wander into the nothingness together.\"\n\n\nAny comments or critiques are appreciated ", "Well. That was interesting. Who knew that that would explode when you put a match near it? Thankfully, I survived unharmed.\n\n…\n\n…\n\n…\n\nOh.\n\nThat’s, that’s me, isn’t it? The thing on the ground that looks like a melted doll. \n\nBut ... if I’m seeing myself like this then I guess that means …\n\nWell, I guess that means I’m, well, that I’m…\n\nDead.\n\nBugger and blastit.\n\nWell, at least I died in a somewhat epic way. They can say that at my funeral, “he died like he lived: a hot mess”. Ha-ha. \n\nI’ve been waiting here a while—isn’t there supposed to be someone to bring me to, I dunno, the next life? God, the Devil, Death, heck, a busty woman riding a horse would do! \n\ncough\n\nHuh? What’s that? \n\nI turn around and see a rather sheepish looking man in a pair of khaki shorts, a Jamaican shirt, a, whatchamacallit … Crocodile Dundee hat, and, of course, socks with sandals.\n\n“Uh.. hi,” he says with a pause, “can you please tell me where we are?”\n\n“Are you not supposed to be here to collect me?” I reply, extremely confused.\n\n“Collect you? I, uh, well, I don’t think so. I was just on holiday, y’see. Down on the beach in the sunny South of France. I was on my way back to my room, where my wife, Gertrude is. She came with me, of course. I turned left at the lifts like the man at the reception said- a rather tall, gaunt looking fella, who looks like he needs a sandwich. Almost like a skeleton, really, now that I think about it. Come to think about it, he did start laughing manically just as I left, and I guess I he gave me wrong directions, because I turned left, like he said, and I ended up here, with you.”\n\nHe stops talking for a second and reaches up to take off his hat, but finds that the string and knot just won’t come undone. He stops, exasperated, and says, “oh, I do apologize! Where am my manners? I’m Jeb!”, before extending his hand.\nI go to shake it, but when our hands meet and touch, they pass right through each other and it feels like how it would when moving your fingers through a dense mist.\n\n“Well, that was odd,” he says with a grimace.\n\nJust at that moment it seems like he realizes his surroundings and glances down at the body … uh … me … horrified.\n\n“Is that, is that, I mean, is that – well – you?” and I nod.\n\n“So, you’re dead. But I can see you. Does that mean that I’m dead?” he says with a sob, before patting himself down quickly – “I don’t feel dead.”\n\n“I’m not sure that you are. I am. Of course, but you, I’m not sure.”\n\nI pause.\n\n“I’m pretty certain that you’re supposed to come collect me.”\n\nHe looks at me exasperated.\n\n“What? Like Death? The Grim Reaper? But, I don’t even have a screwdriver, let alone a scythe.”\n\n“I don’t think that’s important, really. It’s just a fashion accessory, I reckon, like an overpriced watch or ring. Just … used for reaping instead of glam.”\n\nHe sighs. “But Gertrude is waiting for me. Oh how she worries if I’m not home on time. We’ve been married nearly 20 years--”\n\n“Somehow I doubt you’ll reach the 20th anniversary”, I interrupt.\n\nHe cuts a glance at me and looks downtrodden. \n\n“Right. Fine. What am I supposed to do? How am I ‘collecting’ you and where are we going, exactly?”\n\nI go to pat his shoulder, but it moves right through again, and instead I do the classic hoverhand, like a fat kid with a pretty lady.\n\n“I’m not sure, pal, but something tells me to just walk.”\n\nAnd so, we walked together, side by side, into the great beyond.\n", "\"So I'm dead. And you're not God?\"\n \n\"No ma'am. Names Jeb, and I have no idea how I got here, or even where 'here' is. My wife is gonna be mighty mad when I don't make it home for dinner.\"\n\n\"How long've you been here?\"\n \n\"No tellin'. No clocks, just all these...souls I guess, coming in. I don't even know if I'm dead or alive, but I 'spect I'm alive. May I take your pulse please?\"\n\n\"If I'm dead, I won't have a pulse\", I helpfully pointed out.\n\n\"That's right, but I always gotta prove it to myself. I have a pulse, you can take it if ya want.\"\n\nI did, and he did have a pulse. I tried taking my own, and I didn't have one.\n\n\"So you've no idea how a living person ended up in this place?\"\n\n\"Nope. But since you're here, how'd ya die?\"\n\n\"Car accident. I guess I was more tired than I thought. I think I drove off a bridge on accident.\"\n\n\"Shame. No kids?\"\n\n\"No, I have two children, twins. I'm gonna miss them.\"\n\n\"I bet you were a good momma.\"\n\nEven though I didn't have a pulse, I felt my cheeks flush. \"Thanks. Do you have kids?\"\n\n\"I got five of em. 3 boys, two girls. Bet they're wondering where I am. At least they're not the only ones curious 'bout that.\" Jeb smiled an easy smile. \"Make your self at home, I guess. Got someone else to greet. I'll catch you later.\"\n\n\"I'm Samantha, by the way. Nice to er...meet you I guess.\"", "Well, this was not what I had expected. \n\nIn front of me stood a little green man in an orange space suit. In the distance, an unrecognizeable chunk of metal twisted and changed directions seeming at random, as if being possessed by a space Cthulhu. A few pieces of smoking derbris were scattered nearby.\n\nThe creature gave me a cursory glance, then stared ponderously at the unnatural dance above, before seemingly losing interest and waddling off. With nowhere else to go, I decided to follow it, if only to figure out how this bizarre afterlife actually worked. Less than ten meters later, it suddenly started babbling exitedly, and picked up a tiny metal rod.\n\nAfter a vigorous shake, and a little bumb against a nearby rock, the rod extended with a loud groan. Giving me a victorious glance, the LGM stuck it point first into a small nearby mound, before giving a dramatic speech in pure gibberish, and pulling a small lever on the rod.\n\nNothing happened.\n\nCompletely undeterred, the LGM proceeded to furiously tinker with the mystery mechanism, poking itself in the eye through the suit's broken visor in the process, until it eventually seemed satisfied, and waved to make sure it had my attention. Once more it gave its dramatic speech, and pulled the lever a little more forcefully than before, and finally I realized what I was looking at. The creature had planted a flag.\n\nThen, it gave a content sigh, before picking a small rock, and once again losing interest waddling off." ]	4
NPC can be anyone, including enemies. Just include the name of the game, and possibly which NPC.	[WP] Choose any video game and write the backstory for any NPC you want	[ "Oh, great. The green kid is here again. Probably wants more bombs or arrows or potions or whatever. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but...I'm getting kind of tired of it, I guess. I've been doing this job for years. Ten years ago I had a ship, then I had another ship, and then my last two jobs have been in different hot air balloons--the last one took a lot of cardio work just to keep it in the air. And I get it--they need me to do this. They need me to be That Guy. I mean, who else is gonna do it, Tingle? The guy's a great cartographer, but I think he overcharges. Plus all he knows is maps. I know how to make bombs, fletch arrows, and brew potions. Unless Barnes is around. That guy's a demolition expert; he knows how to make bombs that work under-freaking-water. I wish I could have seen that Hyrule; from what I've heard it's a beautiful place.\n\nThe silence remains unbroken, but I know what he wants. Without a word, the green kid points at the Piece of Heart I recently found. He never did talk much...or at all, really. \n\"800 Rupees,\" I tell him. With no hesitation, he pulls out a decently-sized drawstring pouch full of red little jewels. \"Thank you!\" I say in my most overly-happy voice, just like I'm supposed to. \n\nWithout so much as a wave, he leaves. I take out my big bag of Rupees and begin to transfer his payment to it, counting what he gave me--not that I really need to. He's never cheated me, not in all these years. No iteration of him has ever cheated me. I have so much of his money I could seriously retire. Maybe I should. I mean, there was that one private island...Mrs. Marie, the schoolteacher on Windfall, owns it. I haven't talked to her in years...maybe if I gave her enough Joy Pendants she'd give it to me and I could live out the rest of my endless days in paradise. I haven't even been to the Great Sea area in years. That sounds like a great idea...live on my own private island--I mean, he's not going to need it any more, that story ended a while ago--and still be able to travel wherever I want. I've always liked traveling. As a matter of fact, I owe it all to him, the green kid. Or green kids? I dunno, they're all the same but not the same. I try not to think about it too much. But because of him I've been able to see so much...it'd kinda be nice to settle down for a bit.\n\nTomorrow he should be starting a new dungeon. He's been stocking up on potions and such all week for it. Maybe while he's gone I'll make a trip to Windfall and ask Mrs. Marie about that island...\n\n---\nBeedle from the Legend of Zelda franchise.", "Twenty years ago the people took a vow, swearing to speak only the words the heroes from the prophecy needed to hear. So great was the need for those words to be uttered, for those heroes to hear them, that they shunned all other methods of communication.\n\nEach citizen was given a phrase, some several, and ordered by royal decree that those words would be their mantra until the heroes completed their quest and the prophecy was fulfilled. No man, woman or child was permitted to say otherwise.\n\nThe first generation to live under this vow found it difficult, not knowing how to communicate with loved ones or merchants. However as time went on they adapted, as people often do. The citizens of the kingdom adopted a rich system of intonation that allowed them to convey their meaning by how they said things rather than what they said. Unfortunately this linguistic trickery was not universally known, and caused much frustration for travelers.\n\nBut time has a way of forgetting the origin of a custom.... After 2,000 years the edict was forgotten, children learned the phrases and intonations from their parents and passed them on to their children. The people didn't know why they kept using the same words over and over and their language didn't allow them to express the possibility that there might be a better way.\n\nAs the prophecy predicted, four heroes from a far off land did indeed come to the kingdom. A man in red introduced himself to a guard outside the walls. \"Hello\", he said, \"we're looking for the king.\"\n\n\"Welcome to Corneria!\" said the guard.\n\n\"Yes, thank you... but where is the king?\"\n\n\"Welcome to Corneria!\" said the guard again.\n\n\"Yes, you've already welcomed us. Now where is the king?\"\n\n\"Welcome to Corneria!\" said the guard again.\n\nThe heroes couldn't see it, but the guard was shaking with frustration inside his armor. He had told them he would personally take them to see the king so he could aid them on their quest, he was sure of it. He had repeated it slower and slower, enunciating every syllable more than he ever had in his life, but they did not seem to understand him!\n\nThe man in red threw his hands up in the air and said, \"Forget it. We'll find him ourselves.\"\n\n\"Welcome to Corneria!\" said the guard sadly, knowing he had failed.\n\n---\n\nFinal Fantasy for NES. Technically I used every NPC, but the guards from the Kingdom of Corneria had the only speaking part." ]	2
	[WP] Ok, bad news, good news. Bad news: you've died and have gone to Hell. Good news: since so many humans have died in recent years, humans have long since outnumbered demons 1000 to 1 and turned Hell into a pretty nice place.	[ " The descent to hell was a departure the man's expectations of brimstone and ash. An urban landscape lay painted beneath his hovering feet, with a focus of light that seemed to voyage into the endless expanse. The grounded imp twirling a cigarette in front of him, lagged in his generic surprise, rasped, \"Welcome to Hell\". The man glanced over towards his guide in his otherwise short journey. The demon bore the stigmata of a returning hairline that seemed to draw away from the bright scarlet forehead with each waking hour. Black eyes hung surrounded by a precipice deepened from the tolling between the gates of Hell and the world of man, no clear delineation between which he was in. How could he, with the insurgence of humans with their ideas of democracy and equality? Damning him and other demons to sit in complacency as Hell was made a stage for the re-enacting the progress of man himself. Hell was turned into a metropolis by the same people such as the man who stood in front of him. The imp was asleep in the man's sentence, but it didn't matter to him at all. The human,now trapped in his own shock, would be released out into the world and dedicate himself to reclaiming the same vices that sent them here in the first place. No punishment from the demons of Hell, nothing. Not since they'd been outnumbered by some of the greatest minds in history who dared to defy God's word and cast the high executioners of the damned towards the bottom of society. \n\n The imp broke his thoughts with a slight smile as he reminisced on what was it like back then. He would break into the dreams of those heroin addicts. Yes, he would penetrate their narcissistic grandeur of the liquid high and ravage any sensibility they had before they woke up. And before they made their descent, he would relish that moment when he let them see the broken bed under them, their own putrid waste coagulating in their mouths. That sense of hopelessness empowered the imp as he marched with his mortal spoils to the scalding pits of his home. But now, as he intruded into them, those humans rose from their shackles and demanded freedom. Freedom to elect of the latest victor of greed, the freedom to pursue any lust they had without holy retribution, and the silent freedom of pride as they bested their tormentors. He envied those above, who believed that they'd won a moral war by ridding themselves of these heathens, yet those heathens lived their wildest dreams in Hell just as the saintly did in Heaven. So what purpose did he hold in this realm, but to serve as the stomping grounds for the humans? He shook his head erratically. No, he would show them the burden they would bear for their sins. But now, the only use the imp held right now, was keeping his focus on the man in front of him, already unbuckling his pants without regard to the viewer meekly chuckling behind him.", "It's been a while since I actually saw the spikes and lava, as you might understand you get desensitized if you just look at it long enough. At some point I just gave it my own spin. A bit like a comic book where all the colours have been removed, and you have every colour marker you could wish for.\n\nI didn't even notice the horns starting to portrude through my skin, I would look in the mirror. And see a halo. Not because I was dead, no ofcourse not. That would be silly. Because I was so good for this world, every time I noticed something was trapped or caged or otherwise in a bad way. I would try to free it. Next thing I knew I was asked for advice, first on some mechanical shit. Nothing interesting really. But I had to make money to get by, after a while people started asking me questions about my personality. I never answered them. I tried to, but the messages usually got lost in translation. I'm a great communicator, don't get me wrong. But a touchy subject is a touchy subject nonetheless. \n\nOnce in a while I sit on my throne, or someone else's. And I try to enjoy existence, at some point we all started complaining about how slowly time was going by, shit... I remember wishing to live forever. At that point time slowing down didn't seem like a bad idea, especially since it felt like it couldn't get much slower. Did you know the demons reckon themselves wardens of this place? It's a strange time to be around I guess, then again when hasn't it been? \n\nSometimes when I reach out my hand to help somebody up I draw back a stump, doesn't matter. It always grows back. Sometimes it hurts but usually it doesn't, with a bit of dedication to my profession I quickly learned to tune out the pain. Sometimes people see me suffer, and reassure me life... or death for that matter is really what you make of it yourself. On the other hand we're all just walking mirrors wearing masks. So luckily it doesn't matter much, I mean when a mirror talks to you do you take it at face value? I used to, until I got here.\n\nI would be afraid my peers judge me for this, if they weren't actually my peers. That's the funniest of all things, we're all here to stay wether we like it or not. So wether we like it or not we're all equal. Sometimes I frighten those around me, it's never what I set out to do, but that just reminds me of an old proverb that a teacher of mine in a faraway country loved to use, \"shit happens\". Personally I would like to change it to \"sometimes, shit happens\" but that's a lesson for another day. For now I want you rascals to enjoy your torture and be sure stab some demons in the ass if you have the chance.", "\"OH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU --- \" There was a dull thud as a fresh soul hit the floor, landing on a pile of colorful bean bags.\n\nEdward tapped a button on his phone's earpiece and spoke softly.\n\n\"Yo, Percy we got a fresh one up on twenty four.\"\n\n\"Sure thing, good buddy. You got this one?\" asked a dispatcher.\n\n“Yeah, it’s all good.”\n\nMeanwhile, the new guy was confused. Edward gave the disoriented soul a few minutes to recover from the shock of it all. Then, the soul started to speak.\n\n\"What? Where the. Shit. Where's my car?\"\n\n\"S'arright man, you didn't make it.\"\n\n\"Huh? Who?\"\n\n\"Not real articulate, are you? Where you from, son?\"\n\n\"Cleveland. Who are you again? Fuck. What do you mean ‘didn’t make it?’”\n\n\"Hang on, we're talking about you still. What were you just doing?\"\n\n\"None of your business!\"\n\n\"Ha! All right, if you say so. Welcome to Hell, new guy.\"\n\n\"Hold up, could you say that again?\"\n\n\"Don't worry, you're not going to spend every day being raped to death by elephant-dicked demons. We're under new management.\"\n\n\"So .... ?\"\n\n\"Well, I mean you could be if you want to. You'll be just fine again the next morning. We don't judge.\"\n\n\"It's just ... not what I was expecting. Is that air conditioning?\"\n\n\"Oh yeah, it's not too bad. Want me to give you the tour?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\nEdward spoke into his earpiece again “Hey, I’m gonna check out a vehicle and give the new soul a quick tour.”\n\n“You got it. Go down to the Morrison lot and take number twelve. It’s keyed to you now. Just don’t take too long, aight? We’ve got a huge earthquake in Chile and we’re gonna need you upstairs.”\n\n“We’l be real fast. Thanks, man.” He turned towards the new guy. “Hey, follow me … and, what’s your name?”\n\n“Jeremy.” Edward started walking towards the door, and Jeremy got up off the beanbags to follow him.\n\n“So, wait. When you said elephant-dicked demons were you being serious? Is that a thing?”\n\n“Yeah, you want me to introduce you?”\n\n“No! I mean. Uhh.”\n\n“They’re not that bad when you get to know them. Collectively they were pretty awful, don’t get me wrong but once their old management team wasn’t in charge anymore they chilled out a lot and now they’re pretty much like anyone else down here.”\n\n“Just with elephant dicks.”\n\n“Some of them, yeah.”\n\n“That’s amazing.”\n\nEdward gestured towards nobody and said “Check out Jeremy over here, he just came back from the dead, found out the human soul is immortal, realized he is literally in hell, and all he wants to talk about is the size of penises. You fucking Americans had to invent the world wide web, didn’t you?”\n\n“All right, all right. When I was alive the penis thing was kind of a hobby of mine but I’ll concede your point. When did the management change?”\n\n“I’ll give you the canned spiel. First you have to understand that Hell was created about fifty thousand years ago when someone up in Universal Facilities Management realized that humans developed souls and they started popping up in the outer dimensions. At first everybody just got stuck in sort of the sidereal dimensions equivalent of the local police drunk tank. They’d reeducate everyone and give them jobs in maintenance.”\n\n“Oh crap. Then what happened?”\n\n“We tried to unionize.”\n\n“No. They don’t like labor unions in the afterlife?”\n\n“They didn’t before. And out here, no one really needs to eat, drink, breathe or sleep. So, they would just work everyone around the clock. You know?”\n\n“Those bastards. Who is ‘they’ by the way?”\n\n“Well, God and his team. Seriously brutal fuckers, let me tell you.”\n\n“Elephant dicked?”\n\n“No. God’s more of a metaphorical cock than a literal one, you obsess much?”\n\n“Sorry. Go on with your story.”\n\n“So anyway, there were more and more human souls turning up and not enough work for all of them to have anything to do. People got bored, and curious about this place. Wasn’t long before people started poking around where God didn’t want them.”\n\n“What did they find?”\n\n“A lot of stuff, man. Outside of our bodies we’re not bound by our old human form. I mean, we’re used to it and it’s comfortable but - “\n\n“Wow.”\n\n“Yeah. You have to understand that we’re no longer in a strictly physical place. What you’re seeing here is mostly just your brain’s way of making sense out of this.”\n\n“Okay. But where’s God now?”\n\n“That’s not a bad question, but hard to answer. The short version is that we worked out our differences, signed a treaty and now he leaves us alone to run things around here.”\n\n“Who wrote the treaty?”\n\n“A buncha MBAs and lawyers, I think.”\n\n“Fuck me. How’s that going?”\n\n“Actually, better than you’d think. We’ve got clean, running water now, electricity, air conditioning … I won’t tell you there’s everything you were used to but it’s pretty good. You’re in a whole new place now and it’s gonna take some getting used to.”\n\n“Okay, cool. Let’s do the tour you were talking about. I can’t wait to see this.”", "I couldn't remember a lot of things about my life. I couldn't even remember how I died. All I remembered was my name, Jake. Maybe it was James. I don't know. It doesn't matter. All it mattered to me at that point was the fact that I was in hell. I just knew that I was in hell. It's complicated. You just know that you are there.\n\nI was in a denial. I was scared. I had nightmares whenever I closed my eyes. Why am I here? What have done to deserve this? Did I kill someone? The worst part about this is that I wasn't able to remember anything. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn't able to find the answer. I guess it took me about 200 years to learn to live with it. Yeah, 200 years sound like a long time. But trust me, it really isn't. The concept of 1 year is similar to like a second in hell. It's not that they feel the same, but everyone is aware that they will be here forever. And I am one of those 'they'.\n\nThe people here were pretty nice, actually. By nice, I mean that they didn't bother me. They were just lazy. Time was all they had. After those World Wars, I guess the hell became quite overpopulated. I guess God didn't see it coming. The demons didn't really have any power over us anymore because there were just so many of us to control. I didn't really give two shits about those demon guys. You would hear some stories about demons getting killed by a bunch of people. I didn't really are, though. Why would I care about it? I had other things to worry about. \n\nBut then two things happened. First, I've met a demon for the first time in my (after)life. That thing was terrifying. I was walking back to my house(there's really no house- it was more of a place that I stayed at) when I saw a guy getting killed by a demon. It was very upsetting. And that's when I started hating the demons and starting caring about the people more. \n\nThe second thing happened when I started getting used to the life in hell. I started talking to people. I was surprised how fucked up they were. Everyone that I talked to has killed at least 1 person. Now it took me a while to realize that I was the only one who doesn't know why I was put into this hell department. I realized that I must've been a murderer, too. That's when things actually started to change.\n\nI wanted to make up for what I've done in my life. I started planning for a change. It still feels like a ridiculous idea to me but I decided to make hell into heaven. I started gathering people. Everyone hated the demons. We united to kick them out of hell. We made our own government. I didn't know that there would've been so many governors in hell but yeah, having millions and millions of governors from 200BC to 2300AD helped a lot when building a government. \n\nThe only thing tricky about this was the fact that we had to educate the newbies. But by 2853AD, we conquered hell. No, it wasn't hell anymore. It was a community. It was something we built. We belonged there and this place belonged to us. I realized that my job was done. When I came back to my 'house' there was this door. It was a pure white door. I don't know what it is. But I think I'm gonna open it. So yeah, this was my anecdote in 'hell'. Let's see where this takes me to. \n\n...\n\nI can't remember anything. Apparently I got into an accident and I was in coma for 24 years. Things have changed apparently. People made this thing called GenX apparently. I don't even know how it works. What it does is basically it modifies your body so that you can look or be however you want. You can be a super genius. You can be a bodybuilder in just a split second with GenX. And apparently I am the inventor of it. I created a new world. I made everyone's life better. I was wondering why they couldn't just GenX me so that I would wake up from coma. But I guess it's not as simple as I thought it would be. apparently it can only be used according to your will. Since I was in coma I didn't have power over myself to use GenX. Well I don't need it anyways. I must've been the smartest guy in the world to invent something like that. \n\nThere were two kinds of people. The GenX people, and those who weren't rich enough to afford GenX. Apparently the poor people call us the Demons. Well, whatever though. I'm perfect now. This is heaven. Maybe there is no heaven or hell. Maybe there's only one place that everyone goes to and the people who deserve to go to heaven become the 'demons'. I mean, how is this not a heaven? I can do whatever I want to do. I can even kill those people if I want to. Our reign will last forever. ", "\"You want to bring a child into this world? Are you insane?\"\n\nMy heart sank when I heard those words from across the café table but I didn't show it. I was new to the single-and-looking world, but I recovered quickly. I flashed a broad grin and faked an uproarious chortle. \"Just checking,\" I sneered sarcastically. \"You would not believe how many weirdos I've been out with down here. You've got to screen creatively sometimes.\"\n\nI started online dating because I wanted a kid. The one thing I missed about the old life was the kids. Heaven takes most of the kids. The ones we get are the real assholes. It's not what you'd think--we don't get the violent ones, the seriously disturbed ones, the kids who die out of juvie. Those poor shitheads get counseling and, eventually, Heaven. Heaven likes a good redemption story, and anyway if you get all the facts the shit those kids pulled usually wasn't their fault. They grew up hard, and many of their adult role models are down here for a good fucking reason.\n\nThe little shits we get are the privileged know-it-alls who think they're brilliant and special and have to be the center of attention. They didn't do anything particularly heinous to get here. They just got passed over by the folks upstairs because their personalities were insufferable. Lately there've been more and more of this type. Fucking millennials.\n\nOnline dating in hell is mostly the same as online dating on earth. You learn pretty early on not to let on too soon that you want anything serious. On earth, let on that you want a kid on the first date and people might suspect you have an agenda. That's fine if you're both approaching the desperation of middle age and you're both on the same page about reproduction. Here, you'd never mention such a thing. Not on the first date, not on the 39th date. Whichever date you mentioned it would be your last. \n\nSo I figured out pretty quickly that if I was going to get what I wanted, I'd have to engage in a little subterfuge. Funny, isn't it, since that's kinda what got me here in the first instance?\n\n", "They're coming. It won't be long now. The 6th circle was my last refuge. I don't dare go to the 7th. That's where the Demons are - locked away with their own torture devices, spending time slaughtering each other now in their rage. They'd love to get their hands on a fresh soul. The Demons had it good before the uprising. After the union bosses pulled themselves from the pits, set free and organized the despots, they made a good effort - driving all the Demons into the fifth and sixth circles, but no one saw them ultimately winning. When Picket made that charge through the sixth circle with all the suicide souls - suicide bombers at the front - it drove all the Demons into the seventh circle, where they were trapped. When Satan returned from Vegas, he went down to see what they were doing and they trapped him for sport. No one's seen him since. Then it was grand anarchy. Old Scratch - They're coming! We had a debaucherous few weeks. It was glorious, but they didn't count on the reason Demons were chosen as gatekeepers. Once the serial killer pen broke and the rapists got out of OZ it was a free-for all. The screams were horrible. They took out the bronies first. It was terrifying - the things they did in that corral. Those poor centaurs! After that we all fled. I hear them! It won't be long now... They slaughtered everyone and no one had the power to stop them. Not without the Demons. Once they gained access to Hitler's showers in the fourth circle it was over. I've never heard souls scream like that, but they were so packed in, if it hadn't been for the hounds dragging me off to chew on, I would be in there with them. No! No! Don't! Let go! Noooooo!!!\n", "Christ on sale, I've had a rough day.\n\nThe building I lived in was falling apart. I knew it. Everyone who lived there knew it. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, I just figured the odds were pretty good it'd happen to someone else first. But no. My luck isn't that good.\n\nSee, the plumbing under my bathroom sprung a leak, and water was slowly pooling under the linoleum. Had my downstairs neighbor not been an 87 year old man with dementia, he may have noticed his ceiling swelling.\n\nWhen the floor finally gave out, I was sitting on the pot, daydreaming about just how great it would be to tell my boss off once and for all. Then, I heard a CRACK, and my toilet and I sunk about an inch. I panicked, lurched forward from the seat, and, having been tripped up by my pants, dove headfirst into my floor. Through my floor, I suppose I should say. I landed face-down on the floor of the bathroom below mine, and my toilet was right behind me.\n\nAnd so there I died, ass in the air, with my head bashed open on the floor of the flooded bathroom of a senior citizen.\n\nDignified, I think is the word.\n\nAs if that wasn't bad enough, I wasn't even left in peace. I faded to black for a moment, and almost immediately came to, standing at what looked like an abandoned bus stop. A sign on the building read \"Welcome to Hell!\", and off to the left, a smiling old woman was standing beneath an archway. The arch was rather plain, but when I got closer, I could see that something had been written there and scraped off fairly recently. \"Abandon all hope\", or something. It was hard to make out.\n\n\"Welcome to Hell!\" the woman exclaimed cheerfully as I approached the archway. \"So good to see a new face.\" \n\n\"This is Hell?\" I asked, looking around. Aside from the bus station and the arch, there wasn't much of anything there. Behind the station, there was a fence that seemed to run on forever in either direction, broken only by the arch. Looking out away from the station, there was a parking lot. No cars or anything out there, no scenery at all, just...pavement for eternity. \"I thought there'd be...you know...more fire? A couple demons? Maybe a fiddle competition or two going on in the background?\"\n\nThe woman smiled. \"There are demons and some fire here and there, but they won't give you any trouble, sweetie. And we destroyed the last fiddle in Hell about a decade ago.\" There was a note of pride in her voice. \"Awful things.\"\n\n\"But...\" I started, more confused than before.\n\n\"Now, now,\" the woman interrupted. \"Don't you worry about a thing. Just step on through the gate. There's a man waiting to take you to your new home.\" She smiled warmly, and hurried me along.\n\nI stepped through the gate to see a path leading down to the right along a cliff face. At the top of the path, a man was sitting in a golf cart, looking my direction.\n\n\"Well, come along!\" he shouted, and I made my way over to the cart and took a seat. As we started diving down the path, I looked down on Hell, laid out in its nine massive rings, and I was absolutely dumbfounded.\n\nHell has fucking suburbs.\n\n\"So,\" my driver started up. \"How'd you come to join us in the Pit?\"\n\n\"I, uh...\" I recalled the events leading to my death. \"I hit my head.\"\n\nHe started laughing. \"Well, that's one way to go. Me, I went on a ship in a harbor, a long time ago. Had some disease, can't even remember what it was called anymore.\" He looked...wistful, as though he was nostalgic about his own death.\n\n\"So...\" I started, wondering where to even begin. I had so many questions. I decided to figure out where my guide was taking me. \"Where are we going?\"\n\n\"Didn't she tell you?\" the driver asked. \"We're taking you home! It's a fine place over on Goethe. Nice neighbors, good little community there.\"\n\n\"Right...ok...\" I didn't quite know how to process all this. I was groping in the dark for more questions to ask. \"Any, uh...any demons in that area?\"\n\nHe chuckled again. \"Not usually, no. They generally keep more towards the central rings these days, although they do come out a couple times a month to check on the neighborhoods, run meetings, that sort of thing.\"\n\n\"Run meetings?\"\n\n\"Oh yes,\" the driver said, smiling. Apparently this was a funny subject. \"The demons run the HOA's.\"\n\nWe were starting to enter the first subdivision. I was so taken aback by the last revelation that I hardly noticed. \"I'm sorry?\"\n\n\"The HOA's! Homeowners Associations. They keep the neighborhoods in order.\"\n\nGod, this was a lot to take in. \"Hell has Homeowners Associations?\"\n\n\"Of course!\" the driver exclaimed. \"How else do you think we could maintain all this?\" He gestured towards the houses, each with well manicured lawns, not a stone out of place. \n\n\"And the demons...the demons run them?\"\n\n\"Well...\" the driver paused a minute. He took a right turn and we passed another cart. They waved, he waved back. \"More or less, yes. When the population of human souls down here boomed out of their control, there was quite a bit of tension. Revolts, crackdowns, that sort of thing. There was very nearly a war down here.\" Left turn on Crowley Blvd. \"But we were able to avoid that. They agreed to stop torturing us...one of our biggest concerns, you understand...but at the same time, they were very reluctant to relinquish control of us. So we worked out a deal. We became mostly autonomous, and they would be allowed to continue with their jobs by enforcing the rules we devised for ourselves.\" He smiled. \"Everyone wins. We get our autonomy and respite from the fire and whippings, and the demons' more destructive tendencies are channeled towards a greater purpose: maintaining order in the community. Making sure houses stay tidy, keeping the riffraff in check, things like that.\"\n\nI took a deep breath and covered my face with one hand.\n\nThe driver looked at me, concerned. \"I'm sorry, am I upsetting you?\"\n\n\"No,\" I replied. \"This is all just...just a lot to take in.\"\n\n\"I understand. Sorry about that. I do ramble on. I forget how hard it can be for new arrivals.\" We turned right onto Goethe. \"This really is a good neighborhood. It'll make the transition easier. Your neighbors are some of the nicest people you'll meet, and a few of them are recently deceased as well. You can help each other along. Plus, we'll have plenty of community events in the coming weeks. Before you know it, you'll feel right at home.\" He smiled wide. \"If you're interested, there's even an adoption program set up for children's souls. You can start your own little family if you'd like. I believe the couple across from you has five already.\"\n\n\"I think I could just use a drink.\" We came to a stop in front of a house. A welcome banner with my name on it was hung over the door.\n\n\"Hmm.\" That wasn't the response I wanted. \"There's not really much to be done about that. What's a soul supposed to do with alcohol? We can't actually get drunk, I'm afraid.\"\n\n\"Alright.\" If I was trying to hide my disappointment, I wasn't doing a very good job. \"Well, thank you for the ride. I think I can manage from here.\"\n\n\"Of course! And before I leave, let me just say once more, on behalf of the entire community...\" he gave me a big, toothy smile. \"Welcome to Hell!\"\n\nI waved halfheartedly, and walked through the front door of my new home. It was nice enough. I took a seat on the couch and flipped on the television. It had a hundred channels. Ninety-nine were Fox News. The hundredth was TLC. I turned it off.\n\nI sat in silence for the next few minutes, processing the day's events. I was now living in a suburb in Hell, in a cookie-cutter house, the appearance of which was maintained by an HOA run by demons. A community where everything closed by nine. Where I could look forward to the screams and shouts of children playing rousing me from sleep every morning. Children who would never grow up and move out. Going to block parties with people whose afterlives were just as boring as mine, if not more so.\n\nFor eternity.", "I woke up on a cot in an undecorated room with light blue walls. It smelled vaguely of vanilla, maybe an air freshener? The lights didn't look like incandescent or fluorescent bulbs, maybe some sort of LEDs? Weird.\n\nWhat? Wasn't I driving home from work? I swear I remember losing control on the ice...\n\n\"Sir? Now that you're awake, can you come with me? We'll need that bed soon,\" someone says. I sit up and see a nurse-looking lady with a tablet. Dressed a bit strangely, but something in her bearing screams \"nurse.\" She smiles as I get out of bed. \"Great. Processing is the second door to the left, they'll answer your questions and get you set up in your afterlife. Enjoy your stay in Hell!\"\n\n... Wait, what the fuck?\n\nStill trying to wrap my head around that, I found myself in front of a sliding door of some kind of opaque glass, with a sign saying \"Afterlife Processing, Republic of Hell.\" I slid the door open, and a short Chinese man beamed at me. He was dressed in a comfortable looking, close-fitting suit that kind of looked like a more practical version of a classic science fiction jumpsuit.\n\n\"Welcome to Hell! I'm Liu Yao, and I'm here to answer any questions you have and get your afterlife arranged,\" he said, sounding a bit rehearsed. I took the seat in front of his desk, still confused. If this is Hell, where's the fire and brimstone? The demons? Still, I decided to get the obvious question out of the way.\n\n\"So, I'm dead? I remember skidding on a patch of ice, but nothing after that.\"\n\n\"Yes. Your file says you hit a tree. You died almost instantly. Most people forget the moment of death. Our researchers think this is because the brain isn't writing information then, but we aren't sure yet.\"\n\n\"Wait, my file?\" I ask, flashing back to... uh, all sorts of things which I'd like to keep private. This seemed more important than the real question at the moment.\n\nThe bureaucrat held up the manila folder on his desk. \"It's an automatic process, we get one for every new arrival. I'm told it happened before the Republic was founded, but I wasn't here back then.\"\n\n\"Huh. So, about this Republic. If this is Hell, where's the fire? Where're the demons? I get why I'd be here, never believed or anything, but this doesn't fit the stories. At all.\"\n\nLiu smiled more. Not again, it seemed almost fixed in place, but it seemed a bit broader and more genuine. \"I wondered when you'd ask. Our records say it was like that, and all of the really old people will say that it was like that once. But do you have any idea how many people are here? From what we can tell, everyone who didn't follow a specific version of Judaism before around 2000 years ago went here, and then everyone who didn't follow either that, a specific version of Christianity, or later a version of Islam. Even then, we get most of the less devout.The oldest people we've found are too far gone to do much more than scream, but we think they're at least two hundred thousand years old.\"\n\n\"So these demon caretakers were outnumbered very early, and spent a lot of time dealing with riots, escaped prisoners, and armed revolts. A few people, like Alexandros of Macedon and Qin the Great,\" (he seemed to show some national pride here) \"were able to succeed and create their own nations outside demon control. They had numbers and were better able to adapt their plans and equipment to fight the oppressors than the enemy was. The Luciferian regime finally fell when Consul Primus Gaius Julius Caesar led a mass revolt against them. Apparently the demons weren't able to fight an insurgency, a revolt war with a core like the legions, and the Free States all at once. Supposedly Lucifer abandoned Hell when the gates of his palace were broken down.\"\n\n\"Caesar then spent the next few decades building a government like the one he led on Earth and another few decades as a consul before he retired to his estate on the coast. We've absorbed the Free States over the following centuries and otherwise focused on consolidating our infrastructure and developing our technology.\"\n\nI sat for a few moments when he concluded with his explanation. Finally, I decided to move on to a new topic instead of trying to go deeper into the history. \"So, what do you mean by 'Processing'? Is it like immigration?\"\n\n\"In a way,\" Liu said as he pulled out something that looked a bit like a tablet. \"We'll need to figure out your aptitudes and existing skills, and we'll need to arrange housing. You don't have any outstanding mortal crimes, so you shouldn't have any blocks.\"\n\n\"So, paperwork. I see why Hell keeps the name. What's li... uh, afterlife like around here? And what jobs are available, anyway?\"\n\n\"Most people think it's a bit 'futuristic;' as far as we can tell we passed Earth a while back in the sciences. Roma Nova has an excellent night life, and we have plenty of programs to help you settle in. Most of our resource extraction and service jobs have been automated, so we're mostly looking to see if you'll fit in a research or teaching position. Do you have any more questions?\"\n\n\"Not right now, but maybe after everything sinks in,\" I reply as I start on my paperwork.\n\n -- I'm glad to finally see a prompt I have an idea for. Pity I don't have much creative writing practice, though.", "Frederick smacked his hand atop a chiming alarm clock and lifted his wrist to gaze at the smartwatch clasped around it. \"Friday, thank Eve.\" Slowly but surely, he was able to rise from his comfortable queen-sized bed and stumble his way into the bathroom. Mere minutes later he would emerge once again, squeaky clean and ready to finish out the week. Throwing on his best business-casual, he made his way out the front door to start his morning routine.\n\nHe was walking briskly down the sidewalk now, glancing at his watch once again. The bus had been ten minutes late, but he still had enough time to at least stop in and grab a bite to eat on the way to the office. He raised his gaze to look at the small coffee shop across the street from his place of employment: a large corporate skyscraper stretching 200 floors to the sky above. He had instinctively allowed his eyes to wander to the top of the skyscraper and, reasonably so, was shocked when he ran into someone. He hadn't even looked at the man initially, but was rather looking down to his own polished black shoes in legitimate concern that they may have somehow become scuffed. As he looked up to apologize he found himself face to face with what appeared to be a gray-haired, elderly homeless man. He didn't even have the chance to speak, let alone resist, before the man's strong hands had grabbed him by the shoulders and thrust him against the outer wall of his favorite Gwartuts. \n\nThe man's gruff voice exhaled an overwhelming smell of liquor as he brought his face close \"Hell is real, you know!\" Frederick rolled his eyes a bit. A Theist. The man had obviously noticed his reaction, and didn't put up much of a fight as Frederick grabbed hold of the hobo's wrists and removed the hands from his shoulders. The old man continued regardless of the obvious lack of interest, \"You're going to find out today! Hell is real!\" Frederick had already begun to walk away, heading for the entrance to the Gwartuts at a speedy pace. The old man simply shouted after him: \"YOU'LL FIND OUT TODAY!\"\n\nThere wasn't a line today, lucky for Frederick, and he approached the counter - a confident smile on his face. \"Hey there, Molly.\" The young red-headed barista looked up from a crossword puzzle, returning his smile. \"Hey Frederick! The usual?\" He gave her a nod and she turned around to prepare his coffee. His gaze dropped to the counter, noting a stack of pamphlets he'd never seen before. The front was a picture of a field of tall, red grass with a bright yellow \"HELL IS REAL\" across the top. He gave an amused chuckle, picking one up from the pile - he could use a laugh today. Molly had returned with his coffee, her eyes drifting from the pamphlet in his hand back up to him, \"I see you found our new reading material. I figured it was better to just let the old man leave them here than try to chase him off. You don't believe all that stuff, do you?\"\n\n\"No, but conspiracy theories are always good for a laugh.\" He gave her one more smile as he accepted his coffee before offering a final nod, \"I'll see you Monday!\" She offered a cheerful farewell as he turned and walked out the door, making his way to the office.\n\nLunchtime came around quick; Frederick valued his healthy form, and therefore chose not to indulge in food during his breaks. He did appreciate the taste, but he had always found himself appreciating the attention of the ladies over bloating himself with such an unnecessary vice. Once or twice a week was enough to keep the hunger at bay, so he stuck to that. He did, however, value the opportunity to avoid customers and co-workers so he casually tapped the button on his desk, the door to his office giving a quiet hiss as it slowly shut, and then took his phone off the hook. The pamphlet from that morning caught his attention, another slight chuckle escaping before he found himself muttering: \"Hell is real.\" He leaned back in his chair and then kicked his feet up on the desk, preparing for some light reading as he flipped open the pamphlet.\n\nThe material was the standard mumbo-jumbo: it's not natural nobody ever dies. The mother Eve was cast down from some place called \"Earth,\" and her eternal suffering as she gives birth to each of us is, in fact, punishment for eating an apple. The place we all live in is not called Ordisia, but is instead known on Earth as \"Hell.\" Our souls are all damned here for sins we committed on earth, and we were all intended to suffer from childbirth: the ultimate torment both psychologically and physically, but mankind revolted. Of course, the meat and potatoes of it: the ones like us who took hell over a millenia ago built Ordisia so that they can control us. It was standard stuff, and did little to catch Frederick's attention. Each of the partitions of the pamphlet, however, had different pictures in the background behind the walls of text and Frederick couldn't help but appreciate the talent of the artist. It was amazingly realistic. More endless plains of the red grass, battles taking place between humans and massive black-skinned beasts of some sort, and the final partition simply consisted of the most horrific of them all: a picture depicting a group of armored soldiers with the seal of Ordisia tossing people with bags over their heads into a pit of those same beasts - who seemed to be devouring and shredding them.\n\nThe last picture was enough, and Frederick closed the pamphlet and immediately threw it into the trash. In doing so, he saw the back of the pamphlet - the big bold yellow letters that read \"FIGHT THEM!\" with a phone number. It was more of a side note, really, compared the final picture that had burned itself into his brain. It had been incredibly realistic, even photographic looking. He had placed his phone back on the hook and began preparing to get back to work in an attempt to push it out of his mind when he heard something. \"Was that...\" he was muttering to himself as he stood, walking towards the glass that separated his private office from the cubicles of his coworkers on the rest of the floor. More screams cried out, and he could see some kind of disturbance across the floor - coworkers scrambling and running in his direction with panicked looks as paperwork flew into the air behind them. Frederick opened the door, stepping out of his office just in time to see a massive black creature climb up onto the top of the cubicles. It moved on all fours, leaping from the top of the cubicle and colliding with Steve from HR. Frederick probably would have given a bit of a smile, Steve was a stuck-up prick, but he recognized that beast.\n\nFredericks stood there in shock as it tore into Steve, shredding his abdomen and chest with its claws in mere seconds before beginning to charge down the hallway towards him. He was frozen there in fear as the creature collided into him full-force, the inertia slumping him over its shoulders as though he'd just been plastered across the hood of a car. He was so busy trying to process what was happening that he could barely even feel the pain of broken ribs in his chest as the creature continued to barrel forward, plowing him through the glass window and taking him for a brief two and a half second flight down 100 stories to the ground below. Everything went black, and he was unconscious.\n\nFredericks was able to open his eyes, the blurry image of the old man from that morning coming into view standing over him. The old man knelt down, leaning in so that his face was again only inches away with a broad grin plastered across it. \"I told you that you would find out today.\"", "Pt 1 \n\nI cried as the tall, dark demon led me to the elevator to Hell. Numerous thoughts rushed through my mind. What did I do to upset the big man upstairs? How do I make it down here? What kind of torture will these ghouls put me through? We slowly made our way down to level 666. The office of Satan himself.\n\n\"So uh... It's kinda warm in here. Got any A/Cs?\" I chuckled a bit. The demon just stared forward, ignoring me. I pulled at my shirt \"Tough crowd.\" I mumbled. The elevator dropped with a hard floor and the doors opened and I entered a waiting room. There where at least 50 chairs but nobody in them. At the front of the room was a desk with an ugly hag sitting in front of the computer.\n\n\"Take a number and sit down.\" she said with out looking up from her phone. I took a number. It read 1598. I looked up at the now serving sign. It read 8. \n\"Umm.. I-\" I began to say but was cut off by the hag \"Sit down and your number will be called soon.\" So I sat, and waited and eventually dozed off.\n\n\"Number 1598! You're up!\" I awoke in a stupor to a loud, annoying voice. While I was asleep there was a shift change and I was now looking at a short goblin woman. \" Get in there!\" she said in a bitchy voice.\n\nI pushed the door open slowly and saw him. Satan. In all his horrifying glory at his desk... doing paperwork?? \"Uh, hi. I'm J--\" he cut me off. \" Jessica, I know. Come. Sit.\" he said, not looking up from his paperwork. I sat down in the black chair, trying not to look. I couldn't help it. He was so big. His horns curled around each other. He had deep dark black eyes and spectacles hanging off his nose. He put down his pen intertwined his fingers and looked at me. \n\n \"Look, here is the deal. We are SUPER overcrowded. We have no room at all and honestly, I have no idea whats going on down there.\" He pinched the bridge of his nose. \"So for now we are just going to throw you down there and when we get all of this fixed, Hell will be back to normal. I don't know how long it will take. Hopefully no longer than 10,000 years, but there is no telling. So have fun.\" He pointed to a door to his left and shooed me away, continuing with his paperwork. I slowly opened the door, not knowing what to expect.\n\n I looked around. It was nothing but a massive party. Everyone was drinking, smoking, doing drugs and dancing all over. \"Woah..\" I said softly.\n\n\"Woah indeed.\" A voice beside me stated. I looked over and saw none other than Kurt Cobain. \"HOLY SHIT!\" I exclaimed. \"Mr. Cobain you are my idol!\" \n\n\"Call me Kurt.\" he said. \"Hell is pretty great huh? We souls realized that we outnumbered the demons at least 1000:1 and just kinda took over.\" He looked around at the massive party. \n\n\"But wait?\" I said. I had realized something. \"If we are just souls how are we supposed to feel the effects of the alcohol, or anything? We don't have bodies.\"\n\n\"This is Hell!!!\" He yelled loudly, waving his beer bottle around. \"Nothing makes sense here!!!\"\n\nI looked around. I saw Marilyn Monroe and John F. Kennedy in the corner, doing lines of cocaine and doing some heavy petting. I saw Hitler on the dance floor with Bin Laden doing shots out of virgins belly buttons shaking their asses like I never thought anyone could. Heath Ledger on the wall checking out girls while they danced by. He held a handful of pain pills and a bottle of whiskey. \n \nKurt offered me a shot of whiskey, and smiled. \" You ready?\" he asked. I looked for a while at the shot. I smiled big and downed the shot. \"LET'S DO THIS!!!\" I screamed and ran to the dance floor.\n\nKurt stayed behind and sat back down, took a swig of his beer and chuckled. \"Kids.\" He said as he leaned back and waited for the next person to be damned to the inner rings of Hell.\n", "Death. I slowly sunk into my casket, until I realized I was being lowered into hell. A tune of smooth jazz was heard and I rose out of my casket, and many others followed suit. I expected eternal damnation, but I was wrong. \n\nAs I walked into the huge marble hallway lined by paintings of the great demon war with a beautiful and elaborate fountain centerpiece. In the midst of my awe, a loud, female voice echoed through the hall : \"Greetings, new arrivals! You have arrived at hell! To your left, we have entertainment rooms, shops, and vice versa, and to your right, the rooms and many fine eateries. Your room number and key-card is in your pamphlet. Enjoy your stay!\" \n\nEven in death, capitalism is still well and alive, but without all the bad stuff. I entered my room, and it looked like a designer suite, with the kitchen appliances integrated into the walls. I slipped into the bed, lined with Moroccan silk lining the sheets, and savored the tiny mint-flavored chocolate bar on the pillow. Hell was pretty good in spite of the bad reviews. ", "\"It was when Walt Disney joined us that things changed. We're not sure exactly what happened, but he went into Lucifer's office when he arrived, and then from then on was running the place.\"\n\n\"What.\"\n\n\"You see, Lucifer always has been a fan of the classics. So, together the turned the Circles into an endless variant of the It's A Small World Ride. Around every fifty years or so, you'll get a break to watch the Main Street Parade, and then you can switch to another ride, but yeah, we keep things pretty chillaxed down here.\"\n\n\"So why are there so few demons?\"\n\n\"Well, the demons left because they were fired. Walt has strong standards for the castmembers, and...\"\n\n\n\"Wait. Hold it. Walt Disney got demons to dress up as his characters?\"\n\n\"Yeah. Pretty much just the Chernabog ones stayed. We mostly hire from the people coming in... Why, you interested?\"\n\n\"If it gets me out of the creepy River Styx analogue with singing puppets, I'll do whatever you want, hon.\"\n\n\"Tubular! We'll get you started on the Epcot Centre, Baal the Defiler is in charge there. Do you have a favourite character, by the way, for your costume?\"\n\n\"... Judge Frollo.\"\n\n\"Awesome. I'll get the outfitter making your costume as soon as I can. Have you been to a Disneyland in life?\"\n\n\"Florida.\"\n\n\"Ah. The layout's mostly the same, except much bigger. As a cast member, you need to know there's tunnels that act as shortcu-\"\n\n\nAnd so began my eternal damnation.", "As I closed my eyes in surrender and stopped struggling, I felt the pain recede and a soothing warmth slowly spread across my body. I found that I was pleasantly surprised at how relaxed and calm I felt; it turned out that dying wasn't so bad after all. I was fully expecting to simply fade out into eternal unconsciousness and in those final moments I had completely made my peace with that fate, so I was quite astonished to find myself suddenly waking up, as though from a deep sleep.\n\nI opened my eyes and found myself lying on my back a few inches beneath a glass window, staring up at a deep red sky with dark clouds rushing past far up in the distance. I appeared to be in some kind of enclosed black chamber. It was quite comfortable and warm, and with the continuous quiet hum in the background I could have quite easily fallen asleep again, but then I noticed the clouds slow down and the hum slowly decrease in pitch. The chamber came to a gentle stop and the glass lid popped open. Had I somehow been rescued? Had I actually survived?\n\nWith some effort I stepped shakily out of the chamber, though now that I was able to look at it from the outside I saw that it was really more of a capsule, and it was only one of thousands of others, all whizzing along with a quiet hum. Each capsule was dropping off its occupier onto platforms like the one on which I now found myself standing. I had never seen any kind of transport system like this before, nor any so large in scale. I turned to look behind me at where I had come from and gasped in awe; there were hundreds of shiny black tracks shooting out into the distance in every direction, out into a red desert. Far off, I could see tall jagged mountains silhouetted against the red sky. What was this place? \"Please make your way towards the Arrivals area\", an automated message played. I started to walk along the platform towards the large glowing white sign in the distance that read, \"Arrivals\".\n\nThere were hundreds of people around me, shuffling along platforms looking just as confused as I felt. \"Where the Hell am I?\" I asked a gentleman that I had caught up to. \"I don't know. The last thing I remember, I was driving my truck and then I wake up in one of those pods wearing these black robes.\" The same robes that we were all wearing. \"I drowned\" I replied, almost nonchalantly. \"You what?\" asked the man with a confused tone. \"That's the last thing I remember. I drowned, and now I'm here.\" \"Please make your way towards the Arrivals area\" repeated the message. The arrivals area was a huge bustling hall that reminded me of an airport. I stepped through one of the hundreds of turnstiles, and stopped at the desk. \"Where the Hell am I?\" I demanded. \"All will be explained to you soon. If you could just look at the camera in front of you for a second please.\" I obliged. \"Drowning; not a bad way to go\" the lady behind the desk remarked, \"Ah, another atheist. We're seeing a lot more of those these days\" she continued, almost to herself. \"What's going on?\" I pleaded, suddenly feeling quite afraid. \"I see this is your first time here, so just continue along and take a seat in one of the orientation areas.\" The orientation areas were large halls that looked almost like cinemas or lecture theaters; rows of seats ascended steeply in front of a massive screen. I took a seat somewhere in the middle just as the movie started to play. \"Welcome to Hell,\" it began, as there was a sudden burst of exclamation and chattering from the crowd.\n\nI left almost in a trance-like state, completely dazed at the information I had just been given. I barely even remember getting to the transporter, or choosing a seat by the window. I always chose the window seat when I could, but there was nothing here to see but red dust on the ground below. \"Destination: Outer-Circle city. Estimated journey time: 3 hours\" read an electronic sign at the front. The transporter departed; all that could be heard was the quiet hum of the engine; the rest of the passengers were silent, all clearly as shocked as I was. Where the Hell was I? I was close. There is an after-life, and as it turned out, I ended up in Hell. The orientation video gave us a brief history.\n\nLong ago, Hell was ruled by Satan and his demons, ancient creatures who had existed since the Beginning. Humans endured great suffering and torment but we fought back. We managed to capture the Outer Circle within 400 years and erected great strongholds at each of the four gates to the next circle. As time went on, our numbers only increased: new souls joined our ranks every day and we grew stronger. We captured the next 3 Circles over the next 500 years, forcing Satan's armies back deeper and deeper into Hell where they still reside today. Free from the torment of Satan and his demons, we were free to reform each of the captured Circles. The War still continues, but most of humanity lives in peace now in one of the great Circle-Cities. There are still many excursions into the inner levels to try to rescue some of the still trapped souls, and sometimes the Demons try to push back by launching attacks now and then, but they have no hope of breaking the heavy fortifications and defenses of the Fourth Circle.\n\nI woke up to the excited chattering of my fellow passengers. The door swung open and two people dressed in flowing white robes entered the transport, smiling brightly. \"Welcome to Outer-Circle city\", said the woman cheerfully. \"My name is Aemilia and this is Lucius and we'll be helping you to settle down. You're currently in sector 6, where you've all been assigned living quarters. I think you'll find them quite to your liking!\" I looked out the window, and smiled. The sky was a beautiful clear blue color, and it seemed like the Sun was shining brightly. We were on a field of lush green grass dotted with trees and flower beds. A wide path led from the landing pad towards the streets of the city. The architecture was beautiful; pillars of glistening white marble lined the immaculate streets, holding up buildings intricately decorated with gold and silver. Canals and channels of crystal clear water flowed everywhere, cascading down multiple levels to form little waterfalls and water-features. Large trees surrounded open spaces covered in dark green grass and flowers.\n\nIt turned out that Hell wasn't so bad after all.", "Mel didn’t quite remember dying and yet – here he was. He stood naked in front of a gigantic desk, surrounded by black ominous walls. \n\n“Ah, hi, there!” came a voice from above the desk. Mel put his head back and saw a small human face looking over the edge of the desk.\n\n“Hey”, shouted Mel, “What the hell is going on here?”\n\nThe person standing on the desk sniggered. “Exactly! Alright buddy, chill, I have some good and some bad news for you. Bad news: You are dead and this is Hell.” He paused for a second to gauge Mel’s reaction. “Good news: Since quite recently, we humans started to vastly outnumber the demons down here, so we kind of took over.”\n\n“What, seriously?” \n\n“Oh, yes, we humans are an ambitious bunch. Especially the crowd this place attracts, if you catch my drift. Anyway, yes, we took over and made it ours. Hell can be a really cool – heh – place”, the men paused, “For some at least.”\n\n“Which brings me to the second part of this exercise! Bad news: Hell is controlled by humans. Humans, who were damned to be here, but now without the moral constraints and conscience and all that nonsense they would have back on earth. I mean, everyone is already damned, aren’t we?” The man sniggered and grinned down on Mel. “And all your ‘friends’ are here, too! Ah, you will have a hell of a time. \n\nThe man gloated down on Mel’s face, before he continued with a devilish smile “But finally some good news: You still deserve to be here!”", "Yeah, it really wasn't designed for so many people. Besides - what are you going to do in case of a riot? We were already dead, so it's not like they could kill us, we were already in Hell, so there was no way to threaten us. There are legends about demon's faces when human realized \"wait a second, we are immortal and we have nothing to lose, and we outnumber these jerks.\"\n\nNot to mention that most of the smartest people in the world were in here, most of the scientists and inventors, and generals, and world leaders. Given enough time, it wasn't hard to figure out how to overpower demons that are essentially animals, and barely match the intelligence of the dumbest human.\n\nSo yeah, life is pretty sweet here. Plenty of drugs and hookers, but also a lot of creative people who love building cool things and understanding the world. There's no dumbass laws to follow, so we spend our time having fun and doing cool stuff.\n\nRecently we have been receiving a lot of refugees from heaven, who are bored out of their minds, I guess eating apples, sitting under trees, and having sex with the boring, prude soulmate gets boring after a few hundred of years. God is bummed out about it, but what's he gonna do, send us to Hell? He played his worst card. He can't just create more demons without coming off as a jerk, his ratings already plummeting.\n\n----\n\nIf you have enjoyed this - come visit my [blog](http://orangemind.io) where you can read my best stories.\n", "As the car came screaming towards me, my last thoughts were of Karen and the kids. I couldn't tell them goodbye and I could never say what all I wanted to say. They deserved better than me. My cheating and lying. The drinking and drugs. I never meant to hurt them like I did and now I will never get to redeem myself like I wanted to. I have so much regret...\n\n\"The car... is gone? Wait, my car is gone, too. What is going on? HELLO!? WHERE AM I? HELLOOOO!?\"\n\n\"Sir, please, stop screaming.\"\n\n\"What? what's going on? Who are you? Where am I? What is this place?\"\n\n\"Sir, you know EXACTLY what this place is...\"\n\n\"No, no it can't be... I went to Hell?... But, I was so decent and kind. I made a few mistakes sure but all people do that... don't they?\"\n\n\"You're asking the wrong guy, I obviously didn't live like a saint either. Otherwise this shit hole wouldn't be my eternal prison... ya know what I mean?\"\n\nstaring blankly at this person \"No, I don't think I do. Wait, who are you?\"\n\n\"Oh, right, my name is Steven. I'm the greeter.\"\n\n\"Hell has a greeter? Like at Wal-mart? I wasn't expecting..\"\n\n\"No, not like fucking Wal-mart. What kind of dick are you? More like at a nice hotel. Fucking Wal-mart....asshole.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, I just... this is a lot to take in. I still don't understand. You seem...well.. pleasant. Where are the demons and Satan. Constantly poking me with pitchforks and raping me or whatever. This doesn't seem like what I expected at all...\"\n\n\"Hmm, someone's open about their fantasies. I'm sure we can find someone to help you out with that, if that's what you're in to.\"\n\nNo, I just, I mean...\"\n\n\"Relax newbie, I'm just fucking with you.\"\n\n\"Shew, thanks, I was starting to worry. My name is Mark by the way.\"\n\n\"Well Mark, let me give you the tour. If you'll follow me. On your right, you'll see the rotting remains of a ten thousand Demons. Sure, they are the size of twenty men and with armor and swords, wings and horns, but we really fucked them up. I mean, sure, they are tough but when it's ten million to one, of unkillable bastards that spent their life probably murdering babies or whatever, your odds aren't great.\"\n\n\"Wait, hold on, so you're telling me. The evil Demons that ran hell were killed by all the people...in Hell? How is that even possible. That doesn't seem like something you should be able to do...\"\n\n\"We didn't think so either, at first any way. We were just here with Cain, talking shit about God or whatever, and then we started getting company. Lots and lots and lots of company. We were all standoffish at first. They with their \"OH SHIT I'M ON FIRE!\" phase, but you get used to it. After a few centuries or so. anyway. So, we decided, \"Hey, lets start a party with all these new people. Then, at the party, this weird little German guy started talking about hew was superior to these Demons, kept calling them Jews weirdest thing ever, and said we should take them out. \n\nWell, after a while, he started making sense, that dude could talk your pants off. He was charismatic as shit. We made him head of PR after all the fighting stopped. So, he rallies all these supporters and starts gathering up some of these amazing Generals from history. Sun Tzu was his go to guy, Custard ran a few suicide missions with the Spartans. This Oppenheimer guy came up with some great weapons. It was mainly just carved from bone and guts and stuff. Nothing else was down here at the time. Then, without much effort we... what was the term being passed around... oh, we Zerg rushed them.\n\nIt was IN SAY NUH! These big roaring Demons were screaming and going on about how they were Hell's Sentries and nothing could stop them. What a bunch of assholes... I mean, really. Well, we had a few down for the county really quick. Then they started flying... jerks. So, what we ended up doing was making human pyramids that could reach them. Had a few million people crushed to death but this is Hell, it's not like you stay dead. \n\nYeah, long story short, we killed them all and feasted on their remains. It was AWESOME! Now, we have them hung up and staked through the heart in case they regenerate, they'll just die again. Fuck them, bunch of pansy shit heads.\n\nSo, now we're in charge of Hell, and the place really has turned around since then. It's pleasant now. We have games and rides. Once we got the fire turned off, man fuck that fire, we started enjoying ourselves again. You should be glad you came when you did. Otherwise, it would be a really shitty time for you.\"\n\n\"I think I am, what about, ya know... Satan?\"\n\n\"Oh, he is still here. He knows the game we're willing to play, so he just kinda joined the party. He was never the \"Ruler of Hell!\" he was a prisoner here just like us. So, once we freed him he was pretty chill. That dude LOVES the pussy... and dick oddly. He spends like 99% of his days just fucking EVERYTHING! I imagine if there were dogs here, he would be fucking them too. Kinda creepy. Anyway, yeah, he's around. You'll probably fuck him at some point. He's gentle though. Don't worry.\"\n\n\"I'm not.. ya know... gay.\"\n\n\"This is Hell, be open. I am here because I fell in love with a dude. I said my prayers, went to church, and even stayed abstinent because I didn't want to break any rules. Still got sent here though. So, ya know, fuck it. I even had sex with a few ladies here. It was awkward. I never got a hard on. I've been here so long though. That I'm so good at fucking with a limp dick, I could row a boat with a rope. You'll get used to it. It's kinda great here.\"\n\n\"Well, thanks for all the information. Would you mind continuing the tour?\"\n\n\nContinue?", "\"Checks out, you're here for infraction 33.b, vocal disbelief in the almighty. It's alright, the 33's are what most folks are down here for. Disbelief, vocal disbelief and finally actively trying to convert into disbelief of the almighty.\" \n\nI just nodded my head stupidly. I mean, what else could I do. Just a moment ago I was sitting in 'Bob's Big Boy Burgers' scarfing down a Double Big Bob, one sharp pain and the next thing I know I'm being escorted down a paneled, florescent lit hallway, into this little office. Now I'm staring at a kind looking, balding, middle aged gentleman in a rumpled suit and tie as he goes over my records.\n\n\"But, if I'm in hell, why isn't it hot?\" I ask, then immediately feel a flush of embarrassment, it's a stupid question and the patient nod and the 'I've heard all this before' level gaze he has makes me feel even worse.\n\n\"AC.\" is his short succinct reply and he closes the folder steepling his hands. \"Look, you led an alright life. You didn't do much with it, but most folks don't. Based on your Karmic credit score, you're entitled to a small one bedroom apartment or two bedroom trailer and a comfortable monthly income.\" He raised a hand to stop my questions.\n\n\"If you'd like a more comfortable existence here in H.E double hockey sticks, Hell, you can of course acquire a job. Maybe here in processing, but pretty much any job that existed in the 'There' exists in the 'Here'. Aside from the immortal, can't die, eternal damnation side of it, it pretty much works down here like up there.\"\n\nHe pulled out a thick binder of paper and laid it before me. \"This will answer your basic questions. You know, like 'How does hell fit everyone?\", \"If there's a hell, is there a Heaven?\" and the big one...\"Can I upgrade to Heaven?\" He sits back and suddenly, I get the urge to punch him in his patient, level gazed face. This was a big deal, my beliefs smashed, my life over, and this jack ass was sitting here like I was getting a license at the DMV.\n\n\"I...uh...\" I started and then shrugged, lowering my head in mute submission. \n\n\"You'll be alright, if you have any pressing needs, just hit star 4311 on your home phone and you'll be put through to a rep. Oh, and avoid the demons you might see on your way home. Today's a holiday and they've been drinking.\" He swiveled his chair to face his computer and began to type, effectively dismissing me. \n\nI stood, gathered my paperwork and moved to the door. Pausing as a thought struck me, I turned to face the bureaucrat. \"Uh. What holiday?\" I asked. \n\nThe man looked and me and grinned. \"Human liberation day of course. Some of the demons still hold a grudge about that...but what can you do eh? Can't deport them, nowhere for them to go!\" He exclaimed followed by a short snort and a chuckle. I hated him.\n\nI nodded. \"Of course, of course\" I muttered and stepped out of the office. I moved down the lightly carpeted hallway and towards the big double doors. A soft female voice chimed over a intercom. \"Thank you for your understanding and have a pleasant day.\"\n\nI pushed through the doors, and a wave of dry heat hit me causing me to stagger. It looked like downtown New York. Buildings rose around me, cars moved down the street. The only clue that something was up, that things were going terribly wrong for me, was the rolling, boiling angry red and purple sky above me. \n\nOh and the sour faced, red skinned impish creature who pushed passed me, paused, took a small moment to glare at me before he or it removed the cigar from his or it's mouth and shouted. \"Eh! Keep out of the pathway..we're walking here!\"\n\nI stuttered my apologies and he rolled his eyes, moved on and I was left to look down at the map I was given and in that moment, all I could say was a mild. \"Well fuck.\"\n", "\"It was the Nazis that did it,\" the tour guide explained. \"A bit ironic, really. Hell was already far overcrowded, but most damned souls were too beaten down and dejected to do anything about it. But there were so many soldiers pouring into Hell during the last days of World War II that the demons just couldn't process them fast enough. They had to set up these big temporary camps to house them all until Satan could personally determine their worst nightmare to torture them. Well wouldn't you know it, the Nazis didn't really like being herded together and put into camps! So they led the uprising against Satan's minions.\" \n\nThe guide's high heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked over to a massive painting, at least the size of a football field, depicting the first battle. According to the little placard, this had taken Caravaggio six years to paint. Post-uprising Hell was full of some incredible artwork, now that the great masters had been released from their prisons and were given limitless time and resources to make what they need. Even the Atrium that contained the waiting line to get into Hell made the Louvre look like an Alabama garage sale. \n\n\"Chancellor Hitler proclaimed amnesty for all past crimes committed up on the surface and dedicated himself to building this new utopia. Really, it was perfect for him and his many followers: the Jews, as God's Chosen People, are almost all up in Heaven. It seems that God cares more about the status of the tip of your penis and whether you eat pork than whether you were a virtuous person. So, no 'Final Solution' necessary in Hell. Hitler restored order and even put the demons to work conjuring whatever society needs.\"\n\nShe led the way to another portrait, easily recognizable by the thin toothbrush mustache. The portrait was by Michaelangelo, who seemed to have taken the rejection from Heaven rather personally. He'd done a whole series of statues on the hypocrisy of the Bible and God himself. Another nearby picture showed Hitler summitting Lucifer's black stone throne and throwing Satan himself into the Abyss. \"It's apocryphal, of course,\" the guide assured us. \"In fact, no one knows what happened to Lucifer. He managed to flee in the midst of the fighting. Some say he returned to Heaven and asked for God's forgiveness. Others suggest that he's hiding out somewhere on Earth, trying to build his kingdom anew there.\"\n\nShe led the way to the next exhibit, where a video showed Dr. Sigmund Freud establishing a psychological institute to help the damned recover from centuries of torture. It turns out that God wasn't a big fan of psychologists; something about how they had usurped the traditional confessional role of priests or something. He didn't care too much that they were just trying to help people. There's a little saying in Hell that God's rules are about as fixed and permanent as a gust of wind. Shit, most people here thought that they were pretty pious back when they were still alive. You'd be shocked at just how many popes there are down here. \"Everyone pitched in,\" the guide narrated as the video showed a montage of humans filling in the pits of fire and brimstone, and planting farms and gardens. No one needed to eat down here, it was just nice to have fields and pastures. \"Everyone did their part to make Hell a better place.\" The video ended with an overview of the massive city skyline, full of flying cars and all sorts of other futuristic concepts. You'd be surprised what Einstein, Da Vinci, and uncountable other geniuses could accomplish with unlimited time and resources. \n\nThe final exhibit on the tour was titled The Future. \"Chancellor Hitler's vision of Hell is not limited to just creating a paradise here,\" the guide continued as we walked through the door. \"Though Hell has been retaken from the demons, there are still billions of souls on the surface, suffering and toiling through God's tests. Trying to scrape by on meager food because God thinks hardship will inspire faith. Trying to fight greed and lust because God has taught them that they shouldn't enjoy food and flesh. Torturing themselves when they should be living their lives as they want. Just like we do down here.\"\n\nThe exhibit was not grandly decorated by works by famous masters. The walls were bare and the room was hardly lit. Only a single bulb illuminated one exhibit, a small glittering object of metal gears and glass panes. \"This is a prototype,\" she said, \"Of the machine that will open up The Doorway.\"\n\n----\n\n[I wrote another one, if you'd like more](https://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/3laxgu/the_doorway/cv4qsfi)" ]	18
	[WP] Hillary Clinton wins the 2016 Presidential election. The Clintons move back into the White House. Bill has some unfinished business to take care of. Keep it SFW	[ "Everything relied on her getting into Office. There was to much unfinished business that I had to take care of. Getting her voted in was such a difficult task I almost didn't think that it would be possible.\nFinally the day came where she was sworn into office. It made me think of all that I had to go through, the sandals I had to create so that people wouldn't see what I was really up to. They couldn't see it, they wouldn't believe it.\nAs she went towards her new office, the press watching intently, I headed back towards that old dark corridor that was so familiar to me. After passing through the security and identity confirmation equipment, I passed through one of the most secure doors on earth. I greeted the other watchmen and got a status update. The aliens were still being kept at bay. John was still manning operations, looking good for his age really. Now that I had returned, we were almost at full strength again. We have to be here, because this room was the last line of defense.", "Everyone is clapping. \"H-I-L-L-A-R-Y!\"-chants fill the room. My wife looks at me and says: Bill this is the happiest I have ever been. I am sure it is but what she does not know is that I am filled with joy. Not because my wife is going to be the first woman ever to be president of the United States but because I will once again move into the White House. And what awaits me is far more important than politics. I depend on it and I have been longing for it ever since I had to move out. \n\nLook Arthur, Hillary won!, my wife says. I see Bill standing right behind her, smiling. I know why he is smiling. I can't help but smile too. That is wonderful honey, I tell my wife. Instantly I reach for my phone. Entering the password, I hear my wife calling her mother. Oh mom, isn't this wonderful? They all care so much for politics. I don't. I have been waiting ever since Bill had to move out. \n\nI think I have had to shake about one thousand hands tonight. Hillary is so happy and I am happy for her. Suddenly, I can feel a buzz in my pocket. I take out my phone. 1 new message from Arthur. Finally. Hey Bill, everything is still there. Luckily I was able to move up on the career ladder and I can roam freely in the White House. Friday 10 p.m., you know where. I take a sip of champagne and respond, saying that I will be there.\n\n\nHey A, I will be there.. I hug my wife. Honey, this is going to be a wonderful time with the Clintons back in the house.\n\n\nFriday, 10 pm \n\nHillary, there is something I need to do, I'll be gone for a couple of hours, don't wait up!, I say as I head out. A distant eagle call tells me that Arthur is there, too. As I walk up to him, it seems like I am flying. Everything moves in slow motion. I have waited so long for this moment. Arthur greets me with our usual handshake. Has Barack contributed?, I ask. Arthur nods. \n\nMy wife doesn't know how close I am to Bill. And I don't want her to know. Bill and I are the kind of friends that don't need to talk about our friendship. It's just natural. He follows me closely to the tree. An elevator in the tree seems stereotypical for the White House but hey, it's pretty damn cool. As we move past the bunker, we have to enter the password for the door to the room where the magic happens. 8008135. The door clicks. I see that Barack has followed the rules how to leave this place behind.\n\nFinally I am back. As I walk into my beloved secret room, my face greets me on the vinyl, that is hanging on the wall. It is a truly glorious [picture](http://i.imgur.com/FDOLpdA.jpg). I don't even hesitate to walk into the recording room. As I step to the mic, I can see Arthur hasn't forgotten a thing. He is ready to go. \n\nYo A\n\nWaddup B?\n\nI got something to say!\n\nThe beat kicks in. Our eyes lock, as we both enjoy this majestic moment.\n\nWe're back in the motherfucking business." ]	2

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