Split (1)

train · 199k rows

post_text stringlengths 0 17.5k	post_title stringlengths 8 314	comment_texts listlengths 1 74	num_stories int64 1 74
	[WP] The female presidents of the U.S. and Russia absolutely despise each other. Their husbands on the other hand, having grown up together in boarding school, are best of friends.	[ "\"Madam president\" the American aide warned seeing her Russian counterpart nearing. The president looked up, dislike clouding her already cold features. \"slut-sorry-svet-lana\" the American re-introduced herself, extending a hand to shake and barely trying to cover up her mistake. The Russian woman ignored it completely and walked passed to speak to the Chinese premier. The American's eyes bulged with rage. She turned to speak to the German chancellor when she overheard the Russian's words with their hateful meaning clear: \"and she's put on weight!\" Svetlana giggled, the Chinese premier nodding in delight. This meant war.\n\nThe phone was out of her purse in seconds, her fingers dialling the well remembered codes. Her assistant lifted her own phone to her ear, cancelling the nuclear launch codes, explaining it away as the typical handbags-at-dawn again. She turned to look at her Russian counterpart, the attractive Russian aide standing strong behind his president. She'd like to work out his launch codes she mused, and she'd make sure that he'd not be Russian the job. She smiled at the terrible pun, getting away with it because she was young and pretty and not some guy tapping out a 5 minute story on his phone on the bus. She pulled her phone away from her ear, signalling to the barman to re-fill the president's drink.\n\nA soft cough made her turn around, but she knew who it would be before she did. The president's husband standing politely near a statue and looking pointedly in her direction. She knew the routine by now, the sordid secret, the dirty realisation that her boss could have her locked away if she knew what she was doing. She pulled the president's elbow, steering her towards the bar and the president of Ecuador that sat there. Just facing her away long enough for the woman's husband to slip away unnoticed. She knew the route he'd be taking, two lefts, a right, up the stairs to the secret room. She'd left alcohol and snacks in there already. She both hated and loved this part, the sneaking around, the spy-like thrill that made her feel like Janette Bond. She stepped backwards, twirling on the spot, 'accidentally' spilling the caviar with her elbow. The Russian aide caught it without a glance, his trained reactions setting her body on fire, she wanted him. She didn't even look up to see the Russian president's lanky husband sneaking off up the sweeping steps. She'd earned her paycheck tonight.\n\nThe two men embraced at the doorway, this seasons meeting an assured success. The American stepped back, slipping off his trousers, his other hand reaching back for the TV remote. The football clicking on, the Russian president joining him on the sofa. \"Just like old times\" the American announced handing him a beer. They relaxed back onto the couch, swigging their beer, safe in the knowledge that their wives would be far too busy staring daggers at each other to notice their disappearance for hours yet.", "buzzz, buzzz.\n\nRick's phone vibrated in his pocket. \n\nOne new whatsapp message from Aleksi the screen read. \n\n\"hey faggot\"\n\n\"Shit, dude, I told you not to send me a message during the day. What if Sam was around or even worse what if the NSA found out we were texting each other again?\"\n\n\"Haha, why you such a pussy, comrade? Whatsapp is totally secure. Stop your bitching and hop online so we can play the new COD.\"\n\nAleksi knew whatsapp wasn't safe. How could it be? It was owned by Facebook. But, he was willing to take the risk if it meant getting to shoot the shit with his friend like the old days.\n\nRick looked at his watch. He knew he should have said no and deleted the message but Sam would be gone for a good two hours and he really wanted to get some gaming in over the weekend.\n\n\"See you in 5.\", Rick texted back and then deleted his message history.\n\nJerkingitintheovaloffice is online.\n\n\"Yeah, that was way more than 5 minutes.\", Aleksi's voice came through the xbox headset. \n\n\"Sorry, had to grab some milk and cookies.\" Rick responded. \"Milk and Cookies,haha fuck man that takes me back. I can't believe you still do that shit. We're not kids anymore.\"\n\n\"Yah, yah, are you going to shut the fuck up and get this game going or am I going to have to come there and dick slap you, mofo.\" Rick shot back.\n\n\"fuck you, buddy. Do we play the US or the Russia map?\"\n\n\"Shit man, I don't care, let's do Russia.\", Rick mumbled. \"Alright, but I get to put a bullet in our bitch President's head.\", Aleksi said enthusiastically. \n\n\"Don't let your wife catch you saying that.\", Rick laughed. \"How are things with her anyway?\"\n\n\"Shit man you know how it is, bitch bitch bitch, moan moan moan, whine, whine whine. She'd kill me if she knew we talked online.\", Aleksi sighed.\n\n\"Yah, same here. I don't get what their problem is!.\" Rick replied.\n\nElsewhere, in an undisclosed location, a red phone rang. \"This is mamabird.\" Sam answered. \"Madam President, little duck communicated with red pig at 14:20 hours today. Our intel shows they're playing COD online. However, we cannot crack the encryption to listen in on their conversation\" came the response from an over-worked and underpaid NSA agent. Sam slammed the phone down and ordered one of the men in black to bring the car around. This time she was going to catch rick in the act.\n\n\"Shit shit shit, fuck, I'm almost dead... I'm almost dead. FUCK... They got me... Fuck man, I was almost there. I almost had that bitch of a president. \" Aleksi screamed at his screen.\n\n\"Sorry bro, got cornered. Where are you?\" Rick apologized. \n\n \"I gotta wait to respawn now. Keep going, I'll meet you on the hill.\" Aleksi responded.\n\n\"anyway, what were we talking about? yah bitches man... fuck 'em. Alright, here's our chance the President's autocar is pulling up, let's blow the fuck outta it and end this.\" Aleksi responded.\n\nOn cue Rick fired his RPG and hit the Russian President's limousine dead on. \"Boo Yah!\" Rick exclaimed. \"Now let's get down there and finish the job.\"\n\nThey made their way down to the limousine carefully taking out the remaining enemy forces. They pulled the President out of the autocar and Aleksi steadied his crosshairs on the President's head.\n\n\"Do it. End the bitc-\" Rick ended abruptly. \n\njerkiningitintheovaloffice is offline.\n\n\"haha, such a little pussy.\" Aleki laughed to himself. \"Sam probably caught him online. I wonder what it is like to be the most powerful woman in the world's little bitch.\"\n\nAleksi missed the days when he could hang out with his childhood friend without their wives creating a stink. While Sam and Aleksandra never really got along, lord only knows why, Aleksi and Rick had been best friends since the day they first met in boarding school. \n\nAt the start their wives tolerated each other, however, things took a turn for the worse when Sam ran for and won the American Presidential race. Aleksandra felt that Sam now believed she was better than her. So, in response, Aleksandra started working towards and was elected President of Russia- Aleksi didn't bother working out the probabilities of such a thing happening, he didn't really care. \n\nAnyway, ever since, the two most powerful people no longer felt the need to hide the hate they had for each other. Hate, in fact, would be a rather mild word to describe how they felt. They despised each other. As a result, their husbands, Aleksi and Rick weren't allowed to see each other anymore.\n\n\"This one's for you Rick.\" Aleksi said out aloud as he blew the Russian President's brains all over the screen\n\n\"Fucking bitches, why can't they get along?\" he thought to himself as the screen faded to a black loading screen.\n\nA look of dread filled Aleksi's face as he noticed Aleksandra's silhouette reflected on the screen.\n\n\"solnyshko, babe, I...I ca...I can explain.\" stammered a ghostly white Aleksi. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n \n\n \n\n", "\"-Willllll alwaaaaayssss looooovvvveeee youuuuuu!\"\n\nThe torturous, butchering of the famous song was quickly followed by drunken laughter. The sound of bottles clinging together and loud gulping followed. The patrons of the karaoke bar clapped wildly as the two men got down from the stage. \n\n\"Vlad, I miss the old days,\" Harrison said as he finished his beer and clinked it with his friend's own.\n\nVladimir patted his friend on the opposite shoulder, \"Miss them old boy? I wish we still lived them!\"\n\nThe two men managed to stumble out of the bar, barely holding each other up by their shoulders. The rain was drizzling down in the evening sky of D.C., but neither of them had bothered to get their umbrellas.\n\n\"No, no its alright Damion, hic I can just come back for it tomorrow,\" Harrison waved off one of his bodyguards who had offered his own umbrella. Vladimir slurred something similar to his own. The two groups of bodyguards stared venomous knives at each other as they walked loosely behind the two first gentlemen.\n\nVladimir poked Harrison's chest, \"You know they'll murder us both for getting this wasted at a time like this.\"\n\nNeither of them said anything before their lips began to wobble and the street was once again filled with their laughter.\n\n\"Murder? What're they gonna do huh? Waterboard us?\" \n\nVladimir coughed out his beer trying to contain his ravenous giggling, \"Yes!\" He cleared his throat and mocked his wife's voice, \"Tell me what that American dog knows.\"\n\nIn turn Harrison imitated his own wife, \"You stay away from that drunken Ruskie, he's bad news.\"\n\nThe two men came to a stop next to a store with bright lights emanating from the inside. A series of television were set up facing the outside all displaying the same news conference. Their vision was blurred but they could nonetheless make out two women standing at opposite podiums in a conference room. Their wives couldn't be more than a couple miles away and the two men were watching them live.\n\nNow I know that President Anosov and I had periods of difficulty but that comes with overseeing the safety of the two most powerful nations...\n\nHarrison pointed to one of the screens, \"Goddamnit I love that woman.\"\n\nI agree, now is not the time for letting our...petty differences get in the way of ensuring that terrorism is no longer a threat...\n\n\"You know she's a wildcat in the sack?\" Vladimir laughed and held up his beer with just his mouth almost perpendicular to his face.\n\nHarrison followed his best friend's movement and together they finished their beers, followed once again by another round of laughter. Harrison was about to drop his bottle when Vladimir stayed his hand, \"Remember...no...loitering!\"\n\nThe men laughed again as they stumbled out the street, once again butchering Whitney Houston's legacy. They raised their free hands to the sky and sang to their heart's desire.\n\n\"Hey, what's that my friend?\" Vladimir pointed to a woman and a cameraman standing on the corner of the street. The woman appeared to be live.\n\n\"Hey hic I know that woman, that's Caryn from the local new station. She hic must be covering the renovations to the capitol.\"\n\nVladimir turned his head to Harrison and formed the most drunken smile he could muster, \"Are you...thinking, what I'm thinking?\"\n\n\"Oh yes.\" Harrison chuckling and the two men proceeded on their toes in a mockery of stealth.\n\nCaryn of WTVB appeared to be none the wiser.\n\nWhen they were only a couple feet away, the men burst forth, leaping in front of the camera.\n\n\"Hey Antonina!\" Vladimir formed a \"V\" with two of his fingers and wiggled his tongue.\n\n\"Love your sandwiches babe!\" Harrison pretended to eat something.\n\nThe evening was filled with the drunken laughter of the most free men on Earth. ", "Whoop-dee-fucking doo. Another terrorist organization decided to go ahead and bomb Paris again.\n\nI swear to god, Frenchie needs to buff up his military game. Why the hell am I getting called to this meeting again? I thought they wanted me to stop coming to Europe in the first place.\n\nUgh, I needa smoke. I needa smoke. I needa smoke-\n\n\"Oh, Amelia? Is that you? It is a bit too early in the morning, isn't it?'\n\nUgh. It's her. Anja Smirnov. Fourth President of the Russian Federation. Named Number One Most Sexiest Politician according to Cosmos.\n\nI really need to get Brent to run a campaign against those idiots. Twelfth fucking place. My ass, I'm twelfth fucking place.\n\n\"I've heard you've been making some behind-the-scenes dealings recently, Smirnov. How fun?\"\n\n\"Better than sitting being a lazy good-for-nothing, don't you think?\"\n\n\"Fuck you, I didn't even want to come to the meeting.\"\n\n\"No one said you had to, it's just that only a cold-hearted US president would refuse to even acknowledge the recent atrocities.\"\n\n\"I did. Live. On television. Unlike your two page speech, 'Terrorism, it iz of bad. We must ooh- go and properly take the rightful course o' juuustice.' That's what you sound like. You sound like a ditz.\"\n\n\"At least that gets me laid.\"\n\n... She did not.\n\nShe did not just fucking say that. \n\nThe fact that Walter has a headache every time I try to initiate has nothing to do with me! It's probably stress. Stress from- I have no goddamned idea what he does. Planning something?\n\nHer dark eyes narrow at me with an insincere smile. This is a really long hallway. How have we been walking? Five minutes?\n\nAt last, we reach the door to the meeting room, which was for some reason, located on the second floor. Don't know why. They said it was the fucking first when I got off in this city- \n\nThinking that made me really mad for some reason.\n\nHuh.\n\nSome tow-headed Englishwoman pokes her head out of the door and tells us both to shove off while they finish wrapping up something real quick.\n\nThe nerve of her. After all I've done to her.\n\n\"Is Eliza still mad about you leading the Quid-Pro-Facesitting campaign against the Conservatives again?\" says Anya.\n\n\"No. I think it has something to do with her Amy, Dimitri, and Walter.\"\n\n\"How is Dimitri doing these days anyway?\"\n\n\"Not having a headache.\"\n\n...\n\nIT IS FUCKING ON, YOU VODKA-GUZZLING SLUT.\n\nBANG. BANG. BANG.\n\nGuns were fired.\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nMeanwhile, in a little bar outside the undisclosed meeting place of the world leaders.\n\n\"Hey, Walter?\" says the handsome husband of President Smirnov.\n\n\"Yes, Dimitri?\" replies the adonis-bodied husband of the other, far less attractive president.\n\n\"Why do I hear gunshots coming from where I dropped our wives off?\"\n\n\"It must be Thursday.\"\n\nThe two men sip their coffees, gazing longingly into each other's eyes. \n\nWalter bites down on his lip as Dimitri flexes his strong, firm neck. His cheeks are flushed, vision a bit tipsy.\n\n\"I thought it was Friday when those too had catfights.\"\n\n\"No, Friday is the throwing the gauntlet, fisticuffs, and kicking and scratching day. Thursday is usually 'whatever I have in my pocket' day for that.\"\n\n\"We really need to take those two to couples counseling.\"\n\n\"A psychiatrist would make more sense,\" Walter shrugs his shoulders at the good-looking Dimitri, who flashes him back with his pearly whites.\n\n\"You kidding, they're more married than we are.\"\n\nDimitri jokes, but not really. His loins ached for the embrace of his dearly beloved childhood friend.\n\nThough Walter fought these feelings, he too knew that he longed, deep inside, to be felt, deep inside.\n\n\"We're not married, Dimitri.\"\n\nWalter draws his hands forward on the table, met by his friend's warm, gentle grasp. The two stare at each other more, envisioning what exactly they would do to each other on a drunken Thursday night.\n\nWhat would- no, what could they do with their wives around?\n\n\"We kind of are, Walter,\" says Dimitri, moving his hands to stroke Walter's gaunted cheekbones, admiring the light curvature of the frame.\n\n\"I know, and I love every moment of it-\"\n\n\"Amy! What the hell are you writing about Walter and me?!\"\n\nOh fuck.\n\n\"Jesus Christ! Is this slash fiction?! IS THIS POLITICAL SLASH FICTION, AMY? Dimitri, fucking take a look of this. What the fuck? What the actual fuck?!\"\n\nIt's a form of artwork and freedom of expression! Don't judge me! \n\n\"You're British! Since when in the hell did you guys ever have any one of those?! What would your wife say about this?\"\n\nUp yours, Dimitri! You sod! \n\n\"Dimitri! Look at this! There is literally yuri on our wives!\"\n\n\"Oh! That is sick and disgusting! What page is it on, Walter? Tell me so I know what I shouldn't go to! What page, Walter?!\"\n\n\n\n\n\n", "I knew there was no way this would end well. He had forgotten to take out the trash last night and by this time of the morning, the pickup guys had already come and gone. While I'm relatively sure we have people to do this for us, my wife would not be so understanding. \"It's a responsibility thing,\" she'd say. \"You just have to do it.\" In the interests of national security, I decided to stash the trash in in a bin in another room. No sense upsetting the wife. \n\nThe President of the United States came downstairs promptly at 9:05 AM, five minutes after the meeting began. (\"It's a power thing,\" she'd say. \"You wouldn't understand.\") She gave me a peck on the cheek as was customary before one of her Big Meetings. She didn't want to warm her heart too much before trying for an international power play. She stopped when she noticed Alyosha on the other side of the table. \n\nShe looked at me like I'd stabbed her in the back. Al noticed it too and gave a weak smile and wave. He offered me an even weaker look as if to say 'Hey, sorry about this.' She kept her voice dangerously calm. \"Why is Alyosha here?\"\n\n\"I know, I know, we can't allow the foreign dignitaries back here, but he's not a dignitary,\" I explained, \"I've seen him eat a whole can of chocolate pudding after one too many vodka shots. There's no dignity after that.\" \n\nHe gave me a quick punch before realizing although HE would have accepted that answer, she was not in the mood. \n\nHer glance darted between us a few times before she threw up her hands. \"I don't have time for this. Just stay out of the office for at least three hours.\" Great. Now she's flustered and storming out. \n\nAl gave me a nudge. \"You can tell her about the cat. I'll take the lumps.\" I smiled. \"Thanks Al. You're the best.\" \n\nI chased after her just around the corner where Al couldn't see and gave her a reassuring hand on the shoulder. \"Hey, babe. You're not supposed to know this, but Al and Galina's cat died over the weekend. The Russian President's cat isn't supposed to just die, so they haven't really talked about it. Just because she didn't want anyone to know for political reasons doesn't mean you two can't bond a bit over that. Lessen tensions.\" \n\nHer shoulders relaxed. Not a lot, but a little. \"You're going to do fine,\" I told her. \"You always do.\" \n\n\"She'll know her husband told us.\" \n\n\"He's willing to take the lumps. He's a friend. Has been since boarding school.\"\n\nThat was enough for her. \"Thanks,\" and off to the Oval Office. \n\nI got back to the breakfast table to thank Al again and challenge him to some Call of Duty (Black Ops was his favorite and we just got the new one). It was a nice way to pass the time while our wives bickered over oil, troop movements and burgeoning geopolitical spats in the Middle East. \n\nThree hours later, our wives joined us for lunch. They looked happy. Galina took Al aside, presumably to chide him for the cat info, but I think to thank him as well. They loved that cat and talking is healthy. My wife took me aside as well. \n\n\"Don't think I didn't notice when I walked down to the office.\" \n\n\"Notice what?\"\n\n\"In the second room on the left? In the bin? You didn't take out the trash.\" She gave a playful sigh. \"It's a responsibility thing,\" she said. \"You just have to do it.\" \n\nEdit: a bit of grammar and tense work", "The cameras flash from all over the room. There's a low murmur as the press corps begins to settle into their seats. From the table at the front of the room a woman in a finely tailored Italian suit raises a single hand, signaling they are about to begin. As the noised dies out, from off to the left a fart sound is heard, followed by giggling, as the woman rolls her eyes and speaks authoritatively. \n\n\"Let's get started. It is my pleasure, as leader of the free world to welcome my old friend President Rudinkov to the summit. Madam President.\" She ends with a warm, affected smile and a reach out of her hand to the woman next to her. \n\n\"Spaseeboh- Thank you, Madam President. May these talks go swimmingly.\" Though her voice was pleasant, it was obviously forced. It was no secret there was animosity between the two. No one knew why, but there were rumors. There's a chortle from the other end of the table, where the husband of the Russian President was sitting. Based on a look at the two men at either end of the table, you'd think this was a professional Roast, rather than a diplomatic summit. Both were nearly doubled over laughing. A quick glance from President Turner and one of the secret servicemen leaned over to the First Gentleman and they both exited the room. The other spouse was left there to begin to correct himself. \n\n\\*** \n\n\"I have HAD IT!** If you enjoy their company, YOU hold the summit. I will not sit there next to that two-timing, double-crossing harlot-\" \n\n\"Sweetie, honey, we were just having a little bit of fun. You know how boring these things can get. I seem to remember a time in Aspen, in front of a large group of donors when you-\" \n\nShe cut him off quickly, red entering her cheeks, \"Stop. That was a long time ago. I wasn't President then. SHE wasn't your best friend's wife. We didn't have another nuclear arms race on our hands.\" \n\nJames smirked, walking over behind his wife and beginning to massage her soldiers. \"Would you like me to go talk to Max? We were planning on hitting the strip later, \"taking in the sites,\" and I could just generally bring up some of the issues...\" \n\nAt that Olivia became frustrated. \"God DAMMIT Jim, YOU are not the President, Max isn't the leader of Russia. We are the ones that deal with this. I swear you two are still like a bunch of frat boys, thinking you can own and deal with everything. Meanwhile that hussy continues to make deals behind my back... Do you know who she spoke with? Palin. Palin. She actually thinks that somehow that uneducated slackjawed yokel from Alaska could get to me. As if her mother wasn't bad enough...\" \n\n\"Just, just talk to her.\" Jim pleaded, his eyes sympathetic. \n\n\"Not until she apologizes for Vienna,\" Olivia says, flatly.", "\"Hey man!\" I said, pounding my best friend on the back, grinning like a madman.\n\n\"It's been a while! How have you been, comrade?\" He replied in a heavy Russian accent. I laughed.\n\n\"Come on, you can cut the accent now,\" I said, winking.\n\n\"All right, all right,\" He said, now speaking with an accent I simply couldn't place. I never had been able to.\n\n\"Honey,\" I heard from behind me. Freezing, I turned to face my wife, President of the United States, Maisie Jones. \n\n\"Yes?\" I responded, careful to be respectful about it. She wasn't very happy with my relationship with Adam. Being Russian, most people expected a more... Well, Russian name, but he liked breaking the mold with his 'Adam'.\n\n\"Must I remind you who you're talking to?\" she said, raising an eyebrow at me.\n\n\"My best friend from boarding school, I know,\" I said, deflecting the question.\n\n\"That's not what I meant, honey.\"\n\n\"I see you are ready,\" A new person had entered the room, and had cut across my wife's inquisition. I sighed in relief, before realizing that everything had just been made worse.\n\n\"Of course, Agafya. We've been ready for a number of minutes,\" my wife responded, shooting an all but open glare at the Russian President.\n\n\"Well, we'll just excuse ourselves, then,\" I said, mentioning to Adam to leave. Immediately, the two woman having a glaring contest grabbed each of us by ear, and forced us into a seat. I groaned. I just wanted to catch up with my old friend, why did international politics have to get in the way? \n\n\"So Adam, how have you bee-\" \n\n\"Dear, I'd appreciate if you don't make small talk at this meeting,\" Maisie said, glancing at me. I rolled my eyes and sat back. I figured that small talk would have made the meeting go smoother, but the tension was thick enough to cut.\n\n\"So, have you decided what to do about our latest offer?\" Agafya asked, leaning forward. My wife grimaced. She hated it, but she knew that the deal was good. It would secure the United States' position as a world superpower in years to come. \n\n\"So, how about the last world series?\" Adam asked, trying to break some of the tension. Both women glared at him.\n\n\"I know, it was pretty insane,\" I replied. The glares switched immediately to me. \n\n\"Please, be quiet,\" Agafya said, trying to keep a cordial smile on. \"It would be very helpful for the deal if you do.\" Maisie narrowed her eyes. \n\n\"You don't have authority over my husband,\" she spat. \"Anyways, I do not intend to accept the deal.\" I did a double take. This was the best deal we would ever get. If she turned down now...\n\n\"Hey, it's okay! It's my fault for-\" I tried to recover, but it was too late. The two women were no longer listening. If looks could kill, then the two presidents would have been long dead.\n\n\"I see. That's quite unfortunate, since I don't intend to make this any better for you,\" Agafya replied. It was now Adam's turn to do a double take.\n\n\"You said that you wo-\" he said, before being cut off.\n\n\"Not anymore. Come on, let's go,\" Agafya stood, and stalked out of the room. Adam and I looked at each other in horror. What had we just done? Maisie got up, and pulled me out of another door. With that, the famed Power Pact deals, the mutual defense treaty that would have made the strongest coalition in the entire world, were over.\n\n___\n\nIf you liked this, then check out my subreddit, /r/OpiWrites, where I post all of my short stories!\n" ]	7
	[WP] don't clean the mirrors if you want to live	[ "\"We've been having this problem for far too long.\" said Marcus as he held his head in his hands.\n\nI tired to explain \"We can't tell the population why and they won't believe us-\"\n\n\"Well there has to be something we can do\" he pleaded half heartedly.\n\nThere had been over 10,000 deaths this year simply because they cleaned their mirrors. It was an easy solution but if we told the world the truth they wouldn't believe us or even worse, dive into anarchry. \"There is something we can do actually\" I broke the silence between us.\n\n\"Yea? what we'll take all the mirrors?\"\n\nAs I stared at him he knew thats exactly what I was suggesting. Mirrors have only just surfaced and I believed we would be able to bury them in the history books. \"So why not? Only the rich have mirrors and they refuse to believe that cleaning them is killing their servants.\"\n\n\"You'll be pulling off this heist how exactly?\" Marcus was always a pessimistic bastard.\n\n\"There's one thing no one would question, when it comes to being plundered?\" I didn't think he would go for it but i knew i had to try. \"Vikings\"\n\n\"Seriously? Vikings? Who will be this vikings or do you plan on employing real vikings?\"\n\n\"Honestly either would work for me. Those people will do anything for money.\"\n\n\"Alright but if I go along with this, after all I've been very loyal, I have to know why cleaning mirrors kill people.\"\n\n\"Fair enough. You see we don't really understand mirrors yet, hell, we barely know how to make them. All we know is we can see ourselves in them, but what we don't know is they are very delicate. Some people, mostly the rich, say cleaning them opens a portal to hell and you're soul will be taken. Now that sounds a little ridiculous doesn't it? We know the way to hell is sinning. Well its not even close to the real reason. The only way we can create mirrors is by melting a very brittle ore and placing it in a thin glass mold, but the mold can't be taken off. You see that holds the structural integrity.\"\n\n\"God damn it. Just say it I don't care about the why!\"\n\n\"If you want the short version, when you clean them they shatter with surprising vigor\"\n\n\"You're telling me that if you clean-\"\n\n\"Well it's the pressure-\"\n\n\"So pressure causes it to shatter and kill the person in front of it.\"\n\n\"HAH! Isn't that insane? So now you see why we can't tell everyone.\"\n\n\"At least we've made enough money to pay the vikings!\" he exclaimed as we drink to our accomplishment.\n", "Oh please, oh please, oh please go! I walk steadily up the path, edged on both sides by perfectly manicured lawns. I am hoping against hope that Tom is leaving. Walking as slow as possible towards the door in front of me, not daring to turn around in case it will attract attention. The scent of the last roses linger in the air and the door is getting closer. \n\nStepping onto the doorstep I gaze at the cute little plaque leaning against the inside of the window, Beware Of The Children it reads. Turning my head to look behind me, I see Tom give a final smile and wave, then jump onto his bike and cycle away. Relief sweeps over me and I momentarily lean my forehead onto the pristine glass panels of the door. He had insisted on walking me home from school today and how can I tell him not to? I am almost glad of the company, Tom is a sweet guy, one of the nicest in our year and I have no doubt that I am the envy of many of the year nine girls.\n\nThat minute the door swings open in front of me and I stagger to stop myself from falling right into the house. \n\n\"Can I help you dear?\"\n\nA dumpy looking woman looks questioningly at me from the entrance to her home. Those motherly eyes at first curious and then concerned.\n\n\"No...sorry...ummm wrong house. Sorry\"\n\nWith one last look at the plaque, Beware Of The Children, I turn and half walk half jog to the end of the path, back the way I came. \n\nThe detour had added forty minutes to the time it takes me to get home and I am worried about what I have to look forward to when I get home. \n\nWalking up my own garden path I can't help but notice the overgrown grass and weeds. The lawn mower had broken some time back and I don't know how to get another one by myself. Stepping onto my own doorstep I lean my forehead onto the cracking paint of my own front door. It doesn't open this time. With a final sigh, I dig through my bag for my keys, not rushing overly much. I wouldn't have been missed just yet.\n\nEntering my home I call out to my mother. My father is long gone. The hallway is filthy. Much filthier than I left it. Looking over the hall I spot what must have happened. The hoover is lying on its side with the torn bag lying next to it. Please don't be broken, please oh please don't be broken.\n\n\"Mum! ...Mum...where are you?\"\n\nI head up the stairs following a trail of dusty foot prints. As I reach the landing I no longer need the footprints to follow and instead pursue the sound of sobs coming from the bathroom. Pushing the door open I see her, face grubby with tear tracks running rivers through the vacuum dust. Hair dishevelled and wearing only a dressing gown that had come loose. \n\nLooking over the bathroom I see that the new tube of toothpaste has been emptied into the sink, with what looks like the remainder of the shampoo. The bathroom mirror has been smeared with grime.\n\n\"Don't clean the mirrors if you want to live. Don't clean the mirrors if you want to live. They said don't clean the windows if you want to live. Don't...\"" ]	2
	[WP] A man just stole a girl's purse. When he opens it and finds out who she is, he gets very scared	[ "He opens the purse and looks inside.\n\nBlack.\n\nWhat the hell. Why would someone carry around an empty purse?\n\nIt doesn't feel empty though. In fact its rather heavy. He reaches in.\n\nHmm, he can't feel the bottom. In fact he can't feel anything at all. He takes his arm out.\n\nHe puts his head in to take a good look inside. Suddenly he feels a pressure of some kind sucking him in. \n\nThe purse immedietely touches the ground. ", "He entered the bathroom and quickly moved out the window to the fire escape, having verified his escape route less than an hour before. He had scored in this bar before and didn't expect any surprises. As he moved smoothly down the stairs of the fire escape, familiar emotions churned through his mind: exhilaration, shame, amusement, fear. That rich tapestry of The Adrenaline Rush. The Shame stood out awkwardly. He was a good thief -- he turned down more jobs than he accepted -- so he didn't need to resort to this purse-snatching bullshit, but the adrenaline rush was the Real Score. He often mailed the wallet cards back to the address on the driver's license -- unless he remembered her acting bitchy -- keeping only cash and the odd souveneir item. (His keychain with a cheap brass replica 'The World Is Yours' globe from the movie Scarface? Oh yeah, that was from a pursesnatch he did when he was only fifteen; to him, it was as priceless as a Picasso.) He enjoyed The Thrill of The Score, and even small score could generate big thrills.\n\nThe Explorer's Lounge, an upscale bar in midtown on Friday night, just above Morton's Chophouse. Get there at peak hours, verify the escape route, then start watching the ladies and their purses. For him, quantity trumped quality; he didn't need the money, he just wanted the thrill; the more purses, the bigger the thrill. Anyone can snatch one purse and make an exit; grab three, four, or even five, takes a good pro with a better plan.\n\nHe dropped off the fire escape ladder into the alley with three purses. He had planned on getting six, but he couldn't take his eyes off Her. Mid-thirties, tailored gray pantsuit, flats with low wedge heels, very confident movements. Probably a dyke. And that fucking granny purse. She moved like a dancer, but her body was a little too solid -- and too well dressed -- to be a dancer by profession. No rings on her fingers, but big diamond studs in her ears and a very nice diamond tennis bracelet. The shoes had patent leather uppers, but the soles looked athletic; defintely shoes you could run in. I bet she could fuck like a racehorse, but what the hell is with that purse? It was completely out of place on her. He didn't hear the drink order, but he watched the bartender; looked like a Sprite (or club soda) with a splash of Cola. No liquor; the drink only looked like a mixed drink. He would order the same thing sometimes, pretending to be drinking when he was working. She's a predator. I don't know what she's preying upon, he thought, but she's another predator. Sometimes quality trumps quantitiy, and hitting a on-duty predator was quality of the highest order.\n\nThis was not his favorite bar to hit, but he always got a good adrenaline rush when he hit it. There was always something quirky that happened on scores from this place. (Ok, maybe it was his favorite.) It was very upscale, only one block off the financial district, with a nice baby grand piano and a very good piano player. Top-notch bar staff; limited beer selection but excellent mixed drinks, only premium brands. The bar had hooks under the bartop, where ladies often hung their purse. It was a good and a bad thing; bad, because a lady could maintain knee contact with her purse almost constantly, but good, because she felt safe about where her purse was, and if you distracted her she wouldn't think about it for a few moments. And one good moment is all a good thief needs.\n\nShe was careful and smart. She kept one knee planted on the hook under the bar. She would switch knees, but seemed disciplined about using her knee to keep her purse 'locked' on the hook. She was watching; she looked at everyone once, but didn't seem to be paying attention to anyone in particular. She's not looking for someone, she's waiting for someone. He needed to move on her promptly. \n\nIt was the oldest move, but it works well -- which is why it is the oldest move. You dump a drink on her. The bar was packed. He saw his opening, loping around the bar to hit the first two purses, moving them under the coat over his right arm, then moving on her. A fat banker had ordered a drink on her right, behind a seated couple, and as the bartender reached high to hand it to him, He moved in with a $20 in his hand, hailing a different bartender, and knocked the drink to spill onto the side of her head opposite of the direction she was looking. She snapped around, and he smoothly moved in to get The Granny Purse while exclaiming 'Oh shit, I'm sorry! Let me get you a towel!' In a flash, he was entering the bathroom with three purses, and all of his attention on one.\n\nHe silently moved down the alleyway, then onto the street. Down two blocks to the parking garage, then up to the rooftop eighth floor. He looked at the city skylights as he moved towards his silver Audi RS6, feeling the weight of The Granny Purse in his arms. He was giddy just thinking about it. What the hell does Granny have in her purse? He hoped it was something good, but had a hard time imagining what 'good' would be. Big bag of cocaine? No, he didn't need to take up that habit again. Nice gun? It couldn't be nice enough.\n\nHe slid into the drivers seat, locked the door, then tossed the two Other Purses into the passenger side and put The Granny Purse into his lap. He looked at the zipper. Steel zippper with bank lock. A bag within a bag. Basically a bank deposit bag inside of a cheap JC Penny bag. Oh shit, fucking PAY DAY. He grinned widely, stamping his feet with excitement. He retrieved a straight-razor from the glovebox and sliced open the bag parallel to the zipper. Inside, another bank bag. Another slice of the straight-razor revealed a large number of small jeweler bags with string closures. Diamonds. More diamonds. And more Diamonds. Each bag was filled with cut diamonds. He stopped opening bags, and then just hefted the inner bank bag in his hands. Holy shit, that's a lot of diamonds. He paused, and sighed deeply. His giddy excitement was quickly being displaced by fear. Someone just lost a lot of diamonds, A LOT of diamonds, and they are going to want them back.\n\n\n[Townsend Schaffner @ WordPress](http://townsendschaffner.wordpress.com/)" ]	2
	[WP] You die a sudden death. Your mind is extracted. You have a week to collect your thoughts before you expire. You send a final message to your loved ones.	[ "Like most people, for the first few days I panicked. I've been told that waking up is akin to waking up in a body you can't feel or have any control over - like someone who got in a spine destroying accident. It's similar to that but even worse, you only have two senses, the ability to think and see. You see a screen... sort of, but it's not with eyes, it's literally all your vision is, it's a blank note file waiting to be filled with your last words.\n\nAfter those first few days, I fell into deep depression - or I would if I could feel depressed. I had no body, no hormones - even my brain wasn't real, the thoughts were only a simulation and that knowledge is just... crushing, the actual 'you' is dead, if there's such a thing as a soul it's moved on, I'm just a computers best attempt at simulating what the real me had been like.\n\nIt's only now on the final day that I've finally decided for certain what I want to write here.\n\nSo Margret, Harry. Listen up. I love~~d~~ you both more than anything, don't let my passing hold up your life - Margret, you need to raise our baby once you give birth as well as look after our current, it'll be a challenge but if any mum can do it, it'll be you. And Harry, you need to finish high-school and become the programmer you always wanted to, don't let me or yourself down son.\n\nThey're going to switch me off now, but that's alright because I'm already dead, and the next dead man or women needs to take its turn to say goodbye to their own family. I hope there's an afterlife where I can see you again one day in the far future after you've both lived long, full lives.\n\n_________________________________________________________\n\nAdam sniffed as he finished printing out the final words of the man named 'Martin G. Franz' . He'd only been working here only a few month's and he could already see why most people quit. He took the last words and shivered, he realized why they always told him to never look at the names, he assumed it was because it made the responses seem more human but it was more than that.\n\nHe put the page on top of the previous two... the previous names printed out 'Margret M. Franz' and 'Harry A. Franz'. All with the same cause of death 'Car accident'. They never even knew the others were dead or what had happened. Their last words directed at the family who'd never read them.", "I send the thought through the wires. The wall of text before me slowly faded away. Only to be replaced by the logo and title of the company. Cerebrance.\n\nAnd that faded away too, shortly after. I'm filled with a loneliness. But it was strange, I didn't feel sad or angry or empty. Ben and Jamie still had Sarah to take care of them. It's not like they didn't see it coming either. Well... goodbye world...\n\n\n\nI wake up, palms sweaty and a headache pounding at my head. I should really stop doing this to myself. Overtime isn't worth the amount of mental strain I get from it. I walk over to the desk sitting in the far corner of the room. I sit down and grab a pen and paper.\n\n\"To Sarah, if you're reading this, I'm already gone.\" I began, just another day at Cerebrance." ]	2
	[WP] The bear cavalry has come. God save us all.	[ "Bears had been making a comeback in terms of wildlife in the past couple of years, more so than wolves or foxes . More and more had been seen making their way into cities and towns, digging through the garbage heaps looking for food. And of course, there were the ones that had to be put down because they were getting too close to people. But there were the idiots who fed the bears, who left jellied donuts outside of their house at night to feed the \"poor hungry animals\" as one environmentalist put it. Pretty soon seeing a bear at least once a week was common. There were incidents of people taking them as pets, or putting them into vicious fight rings to bet on them, like hound pit dogs. This went on for a couple months, until a radical environmentalist group decided to set all the bears in New York City free in one night, because they were meant to be in the wild. Absolute mayhem. Thousands were hurt and the entire city was scared witless. Riot police were called in and they managed to kill a couple hundred, but it wasn't enough. Exactly 48 hours after the incident, the federal government intervened. Thousands of highly specialized troops marched in, shoulder to shoulder, all the way down 51st street. Their nickname, spray painted on every shield, was \"The Bear Cavalry.\" Every single bear was gone within a day. After that every bear in the nation was gone, killed off by the Bear Cavalry. Ecosystems started to degenerate into chaos. Whole foodchains were going extinct. Problems spread to other continents, as America went downhill. Some smart ones, retreated into Vaults. Others, went crazy and were never seen again. Me? I'm one of the ones who survived. I live in the Wasteland. God save us all. Or at least, whats left of us.", "Everyone here knows war. They've all seen what a rifle can do to a man, what a sword will show you in one cleaving slice. They had seen war with cannons lay waste to fields of men, had known what it is to wade through a river of blood. Their gods were of war and fire and hate, living through avatars like battleships, siege engines, or war elephants. They had seen war live in everything, really, by the time they landed on that pebbly coast in the new world.\n\nShips with steel hulls crashed into those new watery lines, but not for the first time. This land had known many such vessels from these men, laying waste to those lesser apes from older lands. Some say these gorilla men shared one ancestor from millennia ago, now only a mythological figure, though it couldn't be denied that there were similarities. The crewmen landing swiftly and quietly here stood tall, 8 feet or more, and were hairier than the short men they had been slowly exterminating. They kneeled after their first few steps, surveying the tree-line or examining the soil for the tracks of those smaller men, with their non-opposable toes. Imploring eyes found little evidence of disturbance, fell only on small, swift animals that hid well from them with the inherited wisdom of all prey. These men had lived the many lives of hunters, had known the role of the apex predator, some had even sipped from the grail of those lucky creatures known as man eaters. No animal yet had threatened their ascent. No animal but those found here.\n\nGilrod the Lion was one man eater, with pronounced canines and shoulders broad enough to wrestle those breasts of his likeness. His mane of blonde hair wrapped fully and heartily around his face, sheltering him from the cold of this new world. He had led conquests in Africa, had pillaged in Asia Minor. Only now had he begun to taste bitter cold, and it thrilled him with jittery energy so different from heat's languid confidence. His men could see it in him, in how his knuckles went white clutching his sword or how his jaw clenched as if trying to stare the breeze into submission. Some would later claim that was exactly what he did when the air settled around them, though others may whisper it was what Gilrod saw that shamed the air to silence.\n\nThey were there, in the trees. Wiry men with narrow eyes, one of their adept hands wielding light spears with finesse while the other held the reins.\n\nThe tall men had brought horses to this land, great animals with the stature of a rhino but the speed of a hawk on land, and had until recently believed they were the only steeds worth riding. Ahead of them stood evidence to the contrary. These short men had surrendered their stamina in running, the greatest tool against the ape men thus far, and had in this sheltered land domesticated bears. These animals were like the bears of the Eurasian north, yet larger and brighter. They had the white fur of arctic beasts, but were brought south by these rangers that armed them with wooden plates for protection. This plate armor did little to slow down their lumbering charge, barely inhibiting the bear's ability to catch a horse with a head start. The red wood was heavy and dense, but rested like paper on the steeds. Bright eyes flashed behind such wooden helms as the eyes of the two great lines of men locked.\n\nGilrod knew what this meant. Yes, he had tasted the flesh of lesser men, and had single handedly hunted a lion troubling a village of his homeland. He still bore the scars of razor claws in his espresso-black skin, and remembered well the hunt that ran in blood that flowed and soaked that animal's hide. His predatory instinct was violent in its heat, insulating him against the cold of this new land, but was chilled by these lesser men. He had already seen the bear cavalry, had watched them tear apart men like him in seconds. He had watched his kind retreat, a word they didn't even have until this century. He knew these monsters could climb ships, could decimate crews, could destroy the vessel and still swim safely ashore. Now he faced them and knew there was only one route to survival, and knew it was the route to damnation in the eyes of his warlike deities. He looked back at the battleship that brought these pilgrim warriors here and knew he would not retreat, and so he knew he would live forever in the holy steppes of the afterlife. He would learn to wrestle elephants and rhinos there, but first, Gilrod the Lion would die here at the hands of these red men.\n\nThe bear cavalry had come, as it always did, and greeted these men like death greets an old man. Silent in the shadows but tensed like the cord of a bow, this lumbering death would meet the men head on. May their belligerent gods great mercy to them." ]	2
	[WP] One fateful Tuesday the sun set, 14 days later it has yet to come back up.	[ "Rob Merrick had just bumped into a street post for the fourth time on his way home. He was beginning to get sick of the dark. Especially because it was 4:23 PM.\n\nWhen he finally got home, he made a cup of tea and started flicking through channels until he found BBC News.\n\n\"-Queen is lesbian. Now, in other news, the sun hasn't come up over Europe for 14 days now, and scientists at NASA have possibly got the answer, here's Richard, our space correspondent with more.\"\n\n\"Yes, thank you Sue. And as we are all aware, we have been plunged into eternal night since the third of May this year. The places included are all of Europe, the Middle East and Northern Africa. However, scientists at NASA may have the answer. Thomas Glennan, head of NASA, says that the Earth itself has actually stopped spinning. Astronauts on the ISS have reported our planet not revolving, and low-to-Earth satellites suddenly stopped orbiting, and fell to the ground. Scientists are still unsure how exactly Earth has stopped spinning, but they suspect it could be something unknown of by Mankind. Back to you, Sue\"\n\n\"Ok, now to the weather with Carrol.\"\n\n\"There will be some heavy downpour near the north.\" She says, pointing at Yorkshire.\n\"And there will be wind pouring over the country from the East over the next few days. We can suspect it to be very dry over most of the country, if only it was sunny!\"\n\nBoth of the anchors gave half-assed laughs.\n\n\"Fuck this shit, give me something funny\" Said Rob as he turned to channel four.\n\n\"-Woohoo! Four day weekend!\"\n\n\"That's more like it.\" Said Rob.", "I've always been a night person. Something about the darkness made me feel alive. I don't know, maybe it's some leftover survival instinct tied into adrenaline or something. But no matter the why, I have been loving the past two weeks. It's been night time, all the time. And the reason why it's been 14 days of darkness is also making me deliriously happy.\n\nAt first, when the sun did not rise, there was some concern that the world had stopped rotating. A few quick calls to the other side of the planet confirmed that yeah, no, it was night over there too. Then there was the panic that we'd all freeze to death as the residual heat evaporated into the cold vacuum of space. Nope. Temperatures have remained seasonal. Completely normal for night time. \n\nThe best was when people started spreading the rumour that we were slowly going blind, and the loss of the sun was the first symptom. I just laughed and laughed at that one. \n\nAfter that, there was no limit to the crazy theories that people espoused. And the cable news networks, bless'em, gave equal time to all theories. Global warming creating a smog cloud, god's judgement for gay marriage and abortions, vampires working archaic magic for eternal feeding.\n\nWell, that last one was pretty close. I think it was Asimov that said that any sufficiently advanced technology would be indistinguishable from magic. And that's all this was. Not our technology, obviously. But for the first time in history, well, the first time that can't be denied later, humans are being visited by extraterrestrial beings.\n\nBasically, the aliens, who call themselves, well, actually, they call themselves something that we can't hope to pronounce, but their universal translators made it sound like they call themselves the Modefs, set up a giant light filter around our planet so that they could come down and talk to us. There was a glitch in there translator program, and so they weren't able to get the message down to us for the first 5 days or so. Once they did, some people's panic went away. Others' increased.\n\nBut it's been nine days and nothing really bad has happened. The Modefs have met with most world governments, shared their translator technology, and found that they really enjoy sushi. They've even offered to leave the filter behind when they go. \n\nApparently, the governments are anxious to get their sun back. Jerks.\n\nLike I said, I'm a night person. So much easier to find victims that way." ]	2
	[WP] Your friend is talking about a "creature so rare it has yet to actually be found." Which is strange, considering that, by your experiences, the creature that your friend mentioned isn't rare at all.	[ "\"So your telling me you know of one of these rare creatures?\"\n\n\"One? i know dozens.\"\n\n\"And your sure were talking about the same thing right, the male of the species. \"\n\n\"Yes, the male Toiletseatus leuvus downus. There everywhere nowadays.\"\n\n\"Sigh, what is the world coming to, must be the fault of all those feminists.\"\n\n\"Ye, remember the good old days, when we could just give them a good whack to chase them away.\"\n\n\"Ye, those were the days.\"", "As I got ready for another day of night school, my friend Leon stopped by my house\n\n\"Bro, I'm telling you, there are real life vampires out there.\" Leon said as he shows me articles he found on the internet. I pay no attention to it because I wanted no part of whatever he was trying to do.\n\n\"Sorry Leon, I have to go to my night class. Have fun searching for your vampire friend.\" As I walked away, my mother came into the room and gave me a weird look.\n\n\"Is your friend okay?\" She asked.\n\n\"He's on to us.\" I said as I drink all of the blood out of the glass cup that my mother handed me.\n", "Tim took another massive gulp of his cocktail and slammed it onto the bar. \"These things, man, they are impossible to track. I've tried, trust me. You can find their shit - their refuse, I mean, let's be scientific - everywhere, it's on everything. But you can never find one.\"\n\nI kept my stare steady. My expression refused to change from the utter blank that it was. \"You've never found one, huh.\"\n\n\"Yeah!\" Tim tipped his highball glass, found it empty, and put it upside-down on the bar. \"I think their camouflage is just too goddamn good. They evolved for cities, you know. All grey and shit.\"\n\n\"Are you positive that you've never seen one of these things? Because I'm pretty sure I have. Like, every day.\"\n\n\"No way. If they saw you, they'd just fly away. Too fuckin' fast.\"\n\n\"They aren't that fast. They're fat little bastards that-\"\n\n\"But we don't know that, man!\" Tim's aggressive gesticulations threatened to topple both his empty glass and his barstool. \"All we have is legends. Myths. The American Indians treated them as gods. They're some kind of evil demon in Russia. But no one ever sees one!\"\n\nAt this point I was pretty sure the conversation wasn't heading anywhere coherent. I waved the bartender over and handed him a few dollars. \"Look. If we go outside, I can show you one of these things. I bet there's a whole damn swarm of them right outside the bar.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" Tim slapped his money on the bar with an almost triumphant look on his face. \"Sure. Let's go now, let's see. If you can find one, just one, I'll buy you, like, ice cream or something. Really expensive ice cream.\"\n\nI led Tim to the door. He giggled all the way there. I pushed it open, blinked at the setting sun, and scanned the street. Seriously? There aren't any here?\n\n\"Yeah, see? Mister, fuckin', 'oh, they're everywhere! They're like sky rats!' Bullshit.\" Tim shook his head with a knowing grin on his face. \"We will never see one in our lifetimes. Maybe far, far in the future, some asshole will. But not us, my friend.\"\n\nAs I turned to face him, a flash of grey caught my eye over his shoulder. A lone pigeon was sitting on an awning. Its eyes met mine, and it slowly raised a single feather in front of its beak in an unmistakable \"Shhh.\"\n\n----------\n\n(I'm open to constructive criticism - I'm working to improve)" ]	3
	[WP] The zombie apocalypse breaks out in the Roman Empire. Emperor Trajan concludes that regular strategies aren't going to work and appoints you as the commander-in-chief of the army.	[ "\"Caesar,\" I knelt before my Emperor, \"I cannot accept this honor. It is too great a gift to bear.\" It had been years since Emperor Trajan had asked me to come to Rome, so many in fact that it took me a few hours to take in her great glory once again. But the epidemic that was spreading across Trajan's might empire, growing by the second, was one that could not go unnoticed.\n\n\"Oh, my son,\" he placed his hands on my arms, \"I need you to. This is something I cannot do on my own.\"\n\n\"You are the greatest military commander Rome has ever seen my Caesar,\" I said, \"I cannot go higher than that.\"\n\n\"That is where you are wrong.\" He tapped me on the shoulder and I rose before him. He was getting older, the years he spent campaigning had taken it's toll, but he was still the greatest. \"You led my Legions to victory against enemies I never understood.\" He turned from me and began to walk, I followed. \"It is this unconventional fighting that is so desperately needed now.\"\n\n\"You still did not tell me why.\" I stopped myself, \"I, of course, understand that Northern regions are rebelling, but your letter did not go into detail.\"\n\n\"For the details are far too disturbing to write.\"\n\n\"What are they?\"\n\nHe stopped right before his garden, staring down at the flowing water. He didn't move, he simply sat there, motionless, like a dead man.\n\n\"Tell me, Caesar, so I may aid you.\"\n\n\"The Lemures are walking.\" He said it so bluntly, as if it was commonplace to hear of a dead spirit walking the world of the living, as if Lemures were tangible and concrete. They were spirits of the vengeful, nothing more.\n\n\"Caesar, how can a spirit walk the world of the living?\"\n\n\"It, the reports are hard to explain. I had to go to the Northern regions to see it myself,\" he turned back around, \"\n\"The Lemures are taking the bodies of the dead. Britannia's people did not revolt, but the spirits fought them. From what I understand, I do not have a single legionnaire still living, all of them consumed by the hordes, and risen to fight against us.\"\n\n\"Risen?\"\n\n\"They change them, these monsters are neither dead nor alive. Their skin falls off, they feel no pain of a blade or an arrow, they march endlessly against the living. And when they get to you,\" he spun around, placing his hand on his mouth. A moment later he said, \"They feast, make you a monster.\" Cannibalism was not uncommon by the barbarians, illegal under Roman law, but there were still pockets of it. No, the Emperor was disturbed by what happened next, \"If most of you survives, you return to this world to further their army.\"\n\nI collected my thoughts, an army of the dead went against everything I knew. When you were buried, you weren't supposed to come back. I sighed, this is why I preferred our cremation. \"Pluto, he must be appeased, he is unleashing this upon man.\"\n\n\"I have attempted, Pluto does not wish to take my appeasements or my prayers. Sacrificing more to him only gives him more soldiers for his army.\" Trajan shook his head, \"No, Pluto has declared war. Jupiter and Neptune have not answered me either, they sit by, they may be planning attacks as well.\"\n\n\"You wish me to go to war with the Gods?\"\n\nHe turned to me and smiled, \"I do not ask lightly my old friend.\" His smile collapsed and he grew stoic, \"I understand what this means, to you and your name, but as long as these dead fight us, the living do not stand a chance. Pluto may be a God that gave us life,\" he shook his head, \"but the Gods can no longer take it unwillingly.\"\n\nI nodded. Trajan was right, the world of the dead did not belong in the world of the living. As long as they were contained on Britannia, I stood a chance at beating them before they trampled the Empire. It was my duty to do this, not only for Trajan, but for Rome herself. I bowed my head, \"I will need Legions.\"\n\n\"I have three waiting for you at Condate in Gallia, another one will join you in Pisae, before you leave.\"\n\n\"Do they know?\"\n\n\"They do not, I am afraid this will dishearten them. It is up to you to make sure the rumors are quelled before you arrive.\"\n\n\"When can they know?\"\n\nTrajan placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, \"When they see what will happen to them if they do not fight, they must see it for themselves before you declare war on the Gods.\"\n\n\"Only then will they follow me.\"\n\nHe nodded, \"For now we are in a period of peace, but Parthia's expansion will soon become too large to go unnoticed. I need these legions back.\" \n\nIt was a hard request. He was asking the equivalent of riding in with 20,000 men and returning with 20,000 men. Parthia was a force to be concerned of, and although they were moving fast, an army of the dead was more pressing. \"How much time do I have?\"\n\n\"At this rate, three years.\"\n\nI stifled a laugh, a three year war against the undead was a ridiculous request, but I had to accept. I would not let Rome fall by foreign conquerors, or by our very Gods. \"I will fight them with vigor, my Caesar.\"\n\nHe squeezed my shoulder again before embracing me in a hug. I did not refuse him. \"Some of my Praetorians will ride with you to Persia; Tatius will join you on the front.\" I nodded before he let go of me. I bowed my head again.\n\n\"Thank you, my Caesar.\"\n\nHe placed his fist against his heart and I did the same. A moment later I turned to leave, \"Oh, and Evandrus,\" he smiled, \"stay alive. Truly alive.\"\n\nI smiled back and nodded, \"I will, my Caesar.\"", "My fist thumped off my chest in salute. \"Hail Caesar!\"\n\nEmperor Trajan, my dear uncle, had recalled me from the front ten days ago. The message had told me to make God-like speed back to the capital, and I had done just that. Night and day we had ridden, run and crawled, then gotten a fresh horse and ridden again. I was not in the habit of disappointing the ruler of the world.\n\nAnd so here I stood before the Majesty of Rome; soiled, sleep-deprived, starving, dehydrated and reeking of horse. But I stood, without a quiver. Faster than anyone else had ever made the trip, faster than he could have possibly expected me back.\n\n\"Took you long enough.\" He stood with his back to me, between two mighty columns of the palace, staring out over the city. Dusk was falling, and I could not see his face, but I knew my uncle well enough to know he was smiling, and only half joking. It was hard to please him.\n\n\"My apologizes uncle, I lost half a day when we were waylaid to assist a town plagued by bandits. I believed we could spare the time you help your subjects.\" \n\n\"Indeed.\" He turned, his face grave. More grave than I had ever before seen it, and his hair was noticeably whiter. I had been gone from his presence for but a few months; what could age such a strong man so quickly? \"I thank you for helping them. And indeed, it is a plague that has caused me to call you back.\"\n\nHe descended the dais and faced me, arms clasped behind his back. \"Do you recall some months ago the rumors coming out of Gaul?\" \n\nIt was hard to recall my mothers name in my current state, but I did have an inkling of what he was referring to. \"Something about the dead rising and attacking the living. A curse placed on a village.\"\n\nHe nodded and watched to a wash basin. He looked to a servant near by. \"Bring us food and wine. My nephew is tired and no doubt famished, and what we must discuss will likely tax his strength.\" Turning back to me, he motioned me to him. \"Come child, let us wash the road off you.\"\n\nI approached and removed my armor and tunic. \"I will gladly wash the miles off myself uncle, and forgive my impertinence, but I am no longer a child. And I learned to wash myself some time ago.\"\n\nHe smiled sadly as I began to laden water on my body and splash my face. \"You are right of course, forgive me. This business and weighted heavy on me and sometimes I forget you are no longer the little warrior as high as my knee.\" He turned and laid himself on cushions strewn on the floor. \"They weren't rumors, nephew. Nor do I think it was a curse, but a plague. A plague that is threatening to topple Rome.\" \n\nThe water dripping and steaming off my body in the cool night air, wine pouring into my empty belly, and a mouth half full of bread and cheese, I must have looked a comical sight stopping mid-chew and staring deer-eyed at my uncle. Forcing down the food in my mouth, I choked out \"What, by all the Gods are you talking about, uncle?\"\n\n\"The dead are rising in Gaul, and raising an army that is spreading in all directions.\" He lurched to his feet and paced the room, agitated. \"An entire legion has been ripped to shreds and joined their ranks. we gained nothing from the attack but that they are nearly invincible. And why would they not be!? They are already dead!\"\n\nHe was going wild, furious and desperate. I grabbed his shoulders and gave him a shake. A privilege of being family, one could take certain liberties with the Emperor without too much fear. \"Uncle please, get a hold of yourself.\" \n\nHe calmed and I guided him back to the cushions. \"Take some wine. Now tell me slowly. An entire legion, they cannot all be dead.\"\n\nHe gave a weak laugh. \"No, of course not. Not all dead. Three survived. Two died on the way back. One, a legionnaire reported back. What he described...\" \n\n\nThe hands of Caesar shook.\n\n \"The dead rise and consume the flesh of the living. They do not feel pain or fear, or suffer injury the same as living men. They can be killed, but he does not know how it can be done. He only saw they some fell, and never stood again.\" \n\nHe looked into my eyes, tears filling his. \"Nephew, I am at a loss. This infection of living-death spreads daily. I dare not send another legion, or five or ten against this horde without you in command. You must discover their weakness. You must head the legions and stop this plague.\" He grasped my hands, and I could feel his weakness in the over-tight grip. \"Save us, dear nephew. Save Rome. Save my people.\"\n\n(More to come)" ]	2
For all my fellow Potterheads.	[WP] It's early in the morning and you are about to miss your train to work. You run as fast as you can and make it. As the train leaves the station your heart sinks, and you realize you aren't on the right train. You are on the Hogwarts Express.	[ " \"No! No no no no no! Tell me I'm wrong!\" I shout aloud to nobody in particular.\n\n \"Great. Just great.\"\n\n I stare outside the train window to think. How didn't I notice that this train was headed for Hogwarts? One doesn't just waltz into platform 9 and 3/4! I'm going to be in such big trouble now!\n\n Perhaps it won't even matter when I arrive. It's not like I'll be late anyways.\n\n I turn my head to look at the other passengers. All of Hogwart's students were just peacefully chatting amongst themselves. \n\n Suddenly a thought appeared in my mind. Why hasn't anyone pointed me out yet? I don't look that young currently! I must stand out like a pear at an apple convention! My mind began to wander. Is it a trap? Maybe everyone is just too ignorant? \n \n Quickly I close the door to my cart. Not Today, you won't!, I think of no one in particular once again. I pull out of my coat pocket a handful little tool, and hit the button that's on its side.\n\n A loud wheezing sound starts to erupt, and I can hear the other passengers in the background. Quickly I step into the box that has just appeared and press buttons like mad. Every time I fly this thing, I hardly have any idea what I'm doing\n\n The wheezing sound erupts loudly again. With a cackle of glee, I yell out one simple word.\n\n \"Allons-y!\"\n\nDisclaimer: First time really posting on writing prompts; also via mobile.", "My trip to London had been cursed from the beginning. I was sent here to close our firm's biggest real estate deal ever, something that would make my career, and now it looks like my career is over. I am writing this down because no one will believe it anyway, and I have to do something while I wait to see someone called Dumbledore.\n\nMy flight to London from New York was late for some unspecified reason, so I did not check into the Hotel until well after midnight. I fell asleep without setting my alarm, so of course I woke up late, but not late enough to miss the train to York. I made it to the station with a little time to spare, only to find that the train to York was to board on platform 10 instead of platform 5 due to problem on the tracks. Now, instead of being right on time for my train, I was going to be late. Perhaps I could make it if I ran like a lunatic.\n\nI was almost at platform 10 when I was almost hit by some stupid kid pushing a cart across the walkway. I had to dodge right to miss the damn cart, tripped, and almost ran into the station wall. I braced for impact, but I must of somehow turned and missed it, because I ended up on the platform. At least the train hadn't left yet, but instead of a nice modern train, we had to make the trip to York in something that looked like it should have been retired before World War I. Worried it was about to leave, I quickly jumped on and took a seat. The good thing is I made the train, the bad thing was I was with a bunch of kids without an adult in sight.\n\nThings only went downhill from there. The kid I was sitting next to me seemed nice, he even offered me some jellybeans, which I accepted gratefully since I hadn't time for breakfast. The first once tasted like freshly mowed grass, and the second one, well it tasted like ear wax. Great, I thought, let's make the American feel like a dumb-ass. At least I didn't get the gag gift that the one kid received. He was a red head kid named Rod or Ron and some kid gave him what looked like a chocolate frog, but had to be a chocolate covered frog because it jumped out of the package and out the window. Poor frog, at least it got away.\n\nI was able to finally get some sleep once the kids left to all go see some other kid named Harry Potter. I guess he was some kind of celebrity on this side of the pond since they all seem to know who he was. My sleep was short-lived because the conductor came about ten minutes later to check tickets. I gave him my ticket and asked him how long it would be until we reached York. His face turned white, then asked me how I come to board this train. I told him that I ran to platform 10 because my train was moved from platform 5, and just made it in time, even after almost getting smashed into a wall missing some stupid kid. He then told me I was on the wrong train. This train went to some private school named Hogwarts instead of York. Somehow I had reached the wrong platform.\n\n“Wrong platform? I almost collided with the kid just after platform 9, and last I checked 10 came after 9.”\n\nThe conductor just nodded, and said I would need to talk to the Headmaster of the School, someone named Albus Dumbledore. So here I sit, waiting to talk to this Headmaster, watching the TVs that are framed like pictures. Funny, it almost looks like the people on the tube are looking at me. This Hogwarts must have one heck of a media department.\n " ]	2
	[WP] An alien species invades Earth. They're stronger, faster, and smarter. The only advantage humans have is a lack of morals.	[ "As the hammer came crashing into his skull, he had a flashback of every thing that led to that point: \nIt was supposed to be an easy target. The planet they were attacking had intelligent life, but only with 0.76 Log's of technological advancement. They would not have plasma guns, which could subdued a creature up to 10 hests of distance, nor the agility and intelligence the Arg'heist race had. Because of that, only 5 military ships were sent, the other 5 being civil transports. The captains of the transports agreed to land on the planet, so the children could look out and see how wars were fought among all species in the galaxy: With tactics and skill, not killing, but rather capturing. To believe in that was their first mistake, for the monsters that inhabited the planets surface did not know how to properly fight: they did not try to subdued and make prisoners. they only tried to kill.\nIt was like something no one had ever seen: The animals fought with ancient weapons, that launched projectiles of all sizes at them. the first troops to disembark were received with sprays of bullets, instead of a messenger. most of them died. the others were left in agony in the battlefield.\nBut that was only the first of the bad news: a few moments later, they lost contact with three of the civilians ships. The other two were ordered to fly to orbit. What seemed ages after the contact was broken, they received a message from one of the missing ships:\n\"This is officer....lenwin...of the #738 transport ships..... I..ugh gods... The... the enemy boarded the ship...(cough) they had no mercy....and...and spared none....not even ....the children...\" The message was cut short by the terrible sound of screams and fire.\nBy this time, the general were pondering about aborting the mission, when the ship suddenly shacked and threw everyone to the ground. They had been hit! And what's worse, they were falling. As soon as the ship hit the ground, alarms went off: Boarders! The soldiers barely had time to react, for the enemy's attack was quick, but put a good defense nonetheless. They defended the ship's tower with every thing they had: Plasma Staggers, Net Grenades, even Paralyzing Daggers. But it was not enough. When the monsters ran out of ammo, they attacked with melee weapons, and when those broke, the killed with bare hands. \nAnd when he came to his senses, the animals had surrounded him, and a large one walked to him, and left a hammer fall between his eyes. And that was the last thing he remembered...", "I watched as the crowd gathered around me and the 'man' staring at me. I use the word man loosely, considering he is actually an Apo'hi male....\n\nRight, let me catch you up. In 2065, an alien species landed on Earth. They were humanoid, to our relief, and had devices that allowed them to both understand us and translate their words to our languages. It was a peaceful invasion, for the most part. They had come to earth after their home planet had exploded from a core reaction. \n\nEarth had responded to the invasion by creating the ER: Earth's Representatives. Their duties were to be a liaison to the Apo'hi species. It was a nerve wracking job, seeing as they were a very intimidating species. Average height was nearly ten feet tall, sculpted muscles, retractable claws; they were death machines. \n\nAnd i had just offended one of their 'leaders', resulting me being challenged to a duel. That's right, a duel. These huge, imposing creatures had a strict sense of morals. They would never attack someone without formally challenging a person and giving them a chance to prepare. \n\n\"For your sins,\" The 'man' said, \"you shall atone.\"\n\n\"Sir, I have a clear shot.\"\n\nI sighed and snapped my fingers. I could see the looks of confusion on everybody's face, my opponent and onlookers alike. Not a second later, a bullet ruptured from between the alien's eyes, digging into the concrete not five feet in front of me. A smirk adorned my face, with another duel won.\n\nUnluckily for the Apo'hi, us Human's have no such moral conundrums when it comes to 'fair'.", "\"You will be executed for your crimes against us.\"\n\nThe soldier glared at them in response, unblinking as they read through the list of charges against him. He sighed deeply as they finished their reading.\n\n\"You have been tried by the Supreme Court and have been found guilty. You will die for what you have done to us.\"\n\n\"I realise. You've already told me. Twice,\" he began, \"Just hurry up and get it over with.\" he spat out the final word, ice in his words. \n\nTwo of the guards dragged him to his feet and pulled him out to the waiting militia, who fell silent as the prisoner was brought out in front of them. The air was thick with tension as he looked out at them in defiance. A couple of mutters of \"monster\" were heard but he paid them no mind. He was ready to die for his cause; he would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him break down. His thoughts went to his children, and it gave him the strength to smile at the crowd which only served to stir their anger further.\n\nThe one who had interrogated him stepped forwards, holding a blindfold. He shook his head without even glancing in that direction, choosing to find a cloud on the horizon. He wondered how they'd react to this back home. His family, his friends, his government. Would they call him a hero? A martyr? He had just been doing his job. Nothing any good soldier wouldn't do. It was just sheer dumb luck that had led to his capture and to this place to face certain death.\n\nBrave face, Silas. Brave face. \n\n\"Do I get a last request?\"\n\nThe officer smiled and whispered \"Of course.\"\n\n\"A drink wouldn't be too bad,\" he responded. The officer nodded towards a guard who returned with a small bottle of something that smelled remarkably like cheap gin. It burned as it trickled down his throat. Breathing in deeply, he muttered a brief thank you. \n\n\"Please get down on your knees.\"\n\nSilas crouched down low, sinking first to one knee and then the other, his chin never dipping for a second as he did so.\n\n\"After your death your family will be allowed to retrieve your body where you can be given a proper burial.\"\n\nHe blinked in acknowledgement. The Officer leaned in close and hissed, \"What's left of your body anyhow.\"\n\nLeaping behind Silas, he slammed a boot into the back of his head and bellowed to his men, \"He's all yours boys!\"\n\nHe screamed as the humans set upon him. " ]	3
	[WP] A new drug is discovered that induces lucid dreaming. An overdose causes permanent coma. The hospitals are filling up.	[ "I am on my phone. Reddit. One of my favorite subs here is the sub r/writingprompts, it's one of the few I check regularly. Good sub, that one, I scan the front page, and a thread with a nifty title - \"You find instantly all food one day has become poisonous but no one cares, cowabunga\" - grabs my attention for some reason.\n\n\nAnd so I click it.\n\n\nThe top submission in the thread is interesting, I like it. Funny how within the words one writes, they craft a reality through which they dance. Seemingly balanced on the precipice of thought and word and idea and belief - this one medium is incredibly interesting. Generating realities, wow, when you think about it that's insane and Mr. Harrison you're displaying signs of terminal and within these mental spaces we craft, we feel we are the masters of our reality. Kind of an odd dream where the power has gone to our heads and we find with a child's giddiness our minds lay in complete control of our subjective view of reality but unfortunately it looks like he's gone a bit too far, medically speaking the patient is comatose by this point.\n\n\nI enjoy reading threads like this one I currently browse. It's why I choose to make this my reality. Dream this little dream. How incredible I get the opportunity to make this and be this and feel this and unfortunately the patient is unresponsive, he may pick up brief audio senses of the surroundings within his comatose state and for all we know these words may be in his dream. A lucid dream really is a spiritual experience, where the mind crafts an entire universe.\n\n\nThe universe is really suspended by our all together subjectively experiencing out individual conscioussnesses, the stuff through which all of existence looks upon itself and makes the whole concept of \"it\" possible. My mind twitters endlessly in these little thoughts and outside the little window I've dreamt up for myself autumn leaves twittle in a breeze. It's calming. Unfortunately this is one of many cases, by this point, the patient is as good as dead. I hate to be so straightforward about it, but we will most likely inevitably pull the plug. And this existantial furrow burrows and creases more and more and I'm starting to lose my train of thought - am I the person reading this? This wasn't written, was it? My mind, it's torn, this is all a dream and I know that I'm terribly lucid aren't I? And yet it's fading, unfortunately we have to make room in all of these hospitals, Mr. Harrison has been taken off support.\n\n\nAnd I feel ok. Everything is slowing, I'm not quite sure where it's headed. The overall noise in my head, where does it keep winding to, slower and slower and fading, stretching, like taffy; the human brain takes its last desperate breaths as it is stretched thin beyond its parameters and this dream of mine, my lucid dream, it is all crashing down.\n\nI am dieing.", "\"Goddamn it.\"\n\n\"That's him, ma'am?\" the middle-aged nurse asked me impatiently.\n\nI pushed my glasses up my nose and nodded at her, not wanting to curse at her in particular. She tapped a sheaf of papers, ordering them on the unused tray, and said, \"I'll give you a moment alone.\"\n\nThe breathing of dozens of lungs filled the room after her nearly silent shoes made their way out of the ward. I started to sit on the bed, but it was so narrow I would have also been on his calves. He looked the same, mostly, not yet gaunt like a few of the first victims.\n\nI shook my head. He told me before he left - before his joke about going out for cigarettes and never coming back - that they weren't victims. He said they were living fuller lives than I was, navigating the city's choked arteries to work and then back again every day. But Alex, I had said (a little desperately), what are we going to do with them? \n\nWhat can be done? he had replied with a shrug. Shuffle off this mortal coil and all that.\n\nThen he left. I hoped he'd stagger in during the night, or text something silly in the morning, or that maybe he'd call from the drunk tank, but I knew where I'd find him. The second hospital I called had him. Small mercies and all that.\n\nThe ward was mostly filled with young people. Dreamers. Someone had made a banner above a group of three who had matching quilts thrown carelessly aside. It read \"The Dreamers Shall Inherit the Earth,\" which was moronic because the Dreamers died of exposure or dehydration if left to their own devices.\n\n\"The least you could do,\" I murmured, \"is not burden us.\" I touched his eyelids, felt the pupils moving. I started to turn away, but decided to fill out the forms. I didn't want to be a burden.\n\nI ran into the unhappy nurse in the hallway. Her distrustful eyes told me she didn't think I'd taken responsibility for the never ending cost of Alex's care, and I was sure I would have been stopped at the doors if the paperwork had been found wanting. \n\nInstead I breezed out, thinking of the commute back out to the suburbs, and I turned away from the parking lot and followed the road on foot. Eventually I found an overpass arching upward, and predictably I was soon picking out a path among the bodies. The first upright person I met was happy to indulge me.\n\nI realized I didn't know what state they found Alex in. Where had he lain down? I tried to imagine him leaning against the goalpost at our old high school, or even lost among these carelessly scattered bodies.\n\nI couldn't bear to be among them. I knew a hospital bus would be coming at dusk and again at dawn to retrieve whatever bodies had been unmoored from their minds, and I didn't want to be found that way. I cast about for an idea, pills burning a hole in my pocket, and finally decided to go back to my car. Somehow imagining someone having to tow it was the saddest thing I could think of.\n\nI started the car and swallowed the pills.", "Judy was tingling with excitement. Her boyfriend Nick had just arrived with the \"treats\" he had promised to acquire for them. Admittedly, she had almost backed out from asking him about \"it\", having been frightened by recent reports of serious side-effects. \n\nBut in the end, her curiosity could not be denied. I mean really, it's not like we're irresponsible people, she thought to herself. And it's not like we're gonna smoke crack or something. It's only dreaming.\n\nNick strolled into the two bedroom apartment that Judy shared with her girlfriend, Amy; her and Amy were juniors at Jasper Community College together. Nick had chosen the Vo-Tech route, working towards becoming a master diesel mechanic. \nHe loved tooling around town in his pride and joy: a mint-condition 1993 Dodge Cummins that he picked up in Dallas two years ago. Not an ounce of rust, and the motor ran like a top. \n\nWhen Judy approached him about trying something fun, something kinda risky even, he didn't blink an eye. Why the hell not? he had replied. Frank says it's pretty cool, kinda like an acid trip, but without the weirdness. Judy nodded, adding, Or the jail time. \n\nIn spite of the latest reports of people overdosing and ending up in an irreversible coma, it seemed to her that the people who \"went under\" as they called it, were the usual gangbanger crowd, kids with zero fear and even less common sense. \nIf it was so dangerous, it would be illegal. Right? \n\n\n\"OK, let's see what you got!\" Judy whisper-shouted. Amy was spending the night at her fiance's loft in Brighton, and wouldn't be back until after breakfast, allowing them plenty of time to have fun.\n\nNick pulled a small, white paper bag out of the right pocket of his Carhartt jacket, and carefully slid the contents into the palm of his other hand: two glass vials of indigo-colored liquid. Laser-etched onto each vial was the words: Blue Racer\n\n\"Cool,\" she intoned, slowly rolling one of the vials in her hand. \"What was the damage?\" \n\nHe shrugged. \"Not too bad. A hunnerd even.\"\n\nShe only smiled.\n\n\"I mean shit, this is no different than a cheap dinner, movie, and half a tank of \nfuel.\" \n\n\"And no happy ending...\"\n\n\"I'll show you a happy ending alright. C'mere!\" Nick reached for her, grabbing her around the waist and tickling her stomach. \n\n\"Ahahaha! Stop it! Stahhp heehahahehe. Go on!\" And so saying she spun around, kissing him long and slow. \"Let's do this. What are the directions?\"\n\nNick scratched his head. \"Well, not much. You make sure to eat first, and then right before bed, you take a vial.\"\n\nShe waited a few beats. \"And...what? That's it? No big warnings...\"\n\n\"Nope. Not so far as I can tell.\"\n\n\"How will I know if it's working?\" A slight crease of concern ran across her brow. \n\n\"You'll see the boogeyman!! Rahhrrr!!!\" Nick pretend-growled fiercely at her, looking more like a Neanderthal than a supernatural spook. \n\n\"Seriously? Come on, Nick. It's not funny.\" \n\n\"Aw hell. Those folks who overdosed were prob'ly drinkin' a couple of these damned things. On an empty stomach to boot. Don't worry. Ain't nothin' gonna happen.\"\n\nShe punched him in the arm fairly hard. \"You're still an asshole, though.\" giving him a faux-mad look.\n\n\"Yeah. What's new about that? Come on, let's eat.\"\n\nSo they set to inhaling a large pizza, a 2-liter of Coke, and an order of Rudy's famous cheezy sticks. With extra sauce of course.\n\n\"Damn, that was good. I don't think I'll need any 'Racer after this; I'll be pouring sweat in ten minutes tryin' to process it all.\" \n\n\nJudy was gathering up the paper plates, napkins and such to throw away. \"No one put a gun to your head and made you eat nine pieces.\" she said, shaking her head and smirking.\n\n\"True. But there's kids starving somewhere, and I couldn't let it go to waste, right? Hey, toss me the remote, will ya? It's on the counter there.\"\n\nFifteen minutes later\n\n\"Well, bottoms up!\" Nick announced as he downed his shot glass worth. They opened both vials and divided it: one shot a-piece. And then on the count of \"3\" they drank. \n\nHe licked his lips as he set his glass down. \"So, what do you think? Tastes kinda like spicy gumdrops, don't it?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I guess it does. Different. Definitely different. Come on, let's go to bed.\"\n\nAnd without further ado, Nick and Judy traipsed off into her bedroom, undressing, and then snuggling down beneath the covers, falling asleep fairly quickly.\n\nThe next morning\n\nTurning over and rubbing his eyes, Nick yawned, raising his arms to stretch. Boy, if that's how well you sleep on this stuff, I think I'll be taking this more often.\nHe slipped out of bed, walking across the cold floor to the john. \n\nA few minutes later, he slid back under the still-warm sheets, snuggling up to Judy's back. \n\n\"Honey.\" \n\nNo response, only steady breathing.\n\nThat was nothing new. She probably went a little deeper, that's all.\n\n\"Hey,\" Nick said, nudging her playfully, \"Judy. Wake up, rise and shine.\"\n\nSomething stirred deep inside him, as though someone had turned on a cold faucet in his heart. \n\n\"Hey. Hey! JUDY!\" he called out roughly, pulling the covers down from her neck and grasping her shoulders. \n\nHe received a response: her eyes opened, showing the whites, as a thin line of drool ran from the corner of her mouth.\n\n\"No. Nooo...NO!!!\"\n\n\nAt Northern-Bowens General Hospital later that morning, the toxicology report showed that although she had only ingested the \"suggested dosage\", her smaller size coupled with her natural body chemistry resulted in a critical overdose situation. \n\nSeated in a chair beside a hospital bed, a young man held the soft, warm hand of a beautiful, young woman who lay there in silence. Around them, life continued on, the hustle and bustle of everyday comings and goings, people pursuing their dreams.\n\nBut for Nick, there would be no waking from this nightmare.\n\n\n", "Dr. Koosman ran through the halls of Stanford University's neuroscience building pushing through esteemed colleagues leaving a trail of papers falling to the ground in his wake. He made it out the door and headed toward his car. After his mad dash it had become difficult to breathe. He wheezed through the discomfort, locking his seatbelt securely across his waist. Punching the car into gear, Koosman left campus hoping he could make it across town in time to save an entire ward full of patients.\n\nHe knew it couldn't have been an overdose. Everyone knew it couldn't have been an overdose. How could it be? One drop of the medication causes the user to drop into a REM cycle within seconds. For so many people to be comatose in such a short span of time, there had to be another explanation.\n\nKoosman had been studying one of the comatose patients in his laboratory before he spilled through the hallways of the prestigious facility. They were going to start decomissioning the patients. Before they even understood what was happening they were going to kill them. They neuro-signatures told a very different story than what was being disseminated through the news outlets. They weren't dreaming anymore, their bodies were in actual turmoil.\n\nScars would appear on the bodies without cuts, blood, or stitches. They were losing blood volume without shedding a drop. Their brains showed they were in tremendous amounts of pain. All of these confusing symptoms were enough for loved one to remove the patients from life-support. They were still alive though, Koosman knew it deep within his soul. \n\nThe hospital ten more minutes away, his mind was racing trying to form an explanation that would matter. One that could change all of their minds. An explanation that didn't include the phrase \"astral sparring.\"", "Chad:Unemployment is down thirty percent. Crime rates are falling to match. And the man responsible for all this is here tonight. Ladies and Gentlemen, Jeff Holden\n\nThe presenter stood up extending one arm out to the side of the stage where the esteemed psychologist enters. Jeff and Chad Morissen, the presenter, share an handshake as the two men sit down. After exchanging the required conversation to the new guest, How was the flight?, Enjoying your stay in the city?, Chad stirs the conversation in the main direction. \n\nChad:The question on everyone's minds Jeff is, how did you consider Audio Academic Therapy as a solution to this problem?\n\nSitting forward in his chair, Dr.Jeff Holden placed his hands together and started to gesture as he spoke. \n\nJeff:Well once the ability to awaken one from the Sleepx coma was developed, with all credit to my colleague Dr.Kuang, we as a race saw that we still faced the same problem. Only a small fraction that awake ceased complete use of the drug. The vast majority continued their appearances at the hospital. This is when I began my research on the topic. I found that by observing several users, when using the drug and when off, I could deduce several theories. The users often told me that external sources could be perceived, mainly through smell and hearing. This is why many played their favorite music in the backround or had scented candles lit. Unlike regular dreams they retained vivid detail of these dreams from start to completion. Keep that in mind. Next I had a look at the types of people who this drug affected severely, my original subjects were functional members of society who have been taking the drug for several years with no noticeable detrimental affects to their physical or psychological health. My research in the demographic of people entering the hospital in a comatose state revealed that the vast majority were repeat unemployed users with little or no family and friends. They would simply come in and out of the constant dream environment because it was, to them, a viable escape from a life where they see themselves having no prospects. \n\nChad:I see how you came about with developing the therapy, yes, that is extraordinary. But how did you bring computer science into this idea?\n\nJeff:Actually that is a funny story that I was just about to get to, I was working with a Phd student of mine, he would rather not be named and drawn into the spotlight, who gave me that idea. One day when I was giving him advice on his thesis he had his laptop open. His idea involved several dynamic psychological tests hidden in video games. He had a code open and was adjusting several things. The structure was simple, all aspects of the code in question had comments underneath explaining exactly what each piece was doing. The best part was it was all words, numbers and symbols. Things that could easily be described through audio. From there I visited a few friends in Trinity College's Computer Science department. Once they were on board I had them, using audio only, put together an entire semester of a computer science course. The finished product was two hundred and fifty hours long. With this, I hired three subjects from the original few I had observed. Over the course of several sessions they each listened to the audio. With explicit instructions to not study this material other than the audio while using the drug. The results were astounding. Each subject showed over ninety five percent knowledge retention and with simple hints during a second test that retention was a solid one hundred percent.\n\nThe crowd clapped along with Chad. As the audience slowed their clap Chad raised his hands to urge them to cease. \n\nChad:Magnificent. Please continue, it is from here that you start implementing the therapy into hospitals is it?\n\nJeff:No, no, no. That was merely one semester of the course and it was two hundred and fifty hours long. With an entire college degree worth of material we were easily pushed over two thousand hours. That is eighty three days one would need to listen to the audio while under the effect of the drug. That was not acceptable. It was something one of my original subjects had said that sparked my next experiment into the matter. After one session that lasted ten hours, he said,\"That was ten hours? It felt like a year\". This made me think, if we accelerated the audio could retention stay as high. With new subjects we conducted the time-information retention experiments. Starting at double speed and eventually working our way to as high as twenty fold. Incredibly, we were getting on average above eighty percent retention, falling exponentially, around fifteen fold speed. Hence, our subjects were getting, and retaining, a working college education in computer science in less than six days of total listening time.\n\nThe roar of the crowd came just as Jeff finished his last sentence. Chad was clapping along with them, this time allowing them to finish at their own accord. When they calmed down, Chad continued.\n\nChad:So lets recap. You find a means to educate users of this drug in computer science with, relatively to standard learning, a incredibly fast method. I can see how this reduces the amount of unemployed being admitted to hospital but what stops them from using the drug afterwards? Does this immense learning cause harm? What if the person has a bad lucid dream while this is being administered, and then is basically stuck in a a hell where for all eternity, or the length of time it feels to them, they are taught computer science? So many questions left to be answered, and hopefully they will be, after this commercial break.\n\n", "\"Doctor, the patient's going to die.\"\n\n\"No, he isn't.\"\n\nThe crowd of nurses rush around me, some fast, some slow. Meredith, never the most spry of the shift, is waddling desperately around clutching notes for bed 2A, oblivious to the fact that we're actually crash-carting 2B and all she's doing is getting in the way. I watch at the centre of it all in a calm, serene medical detachment.\n\nDoctors have the ability to grant life or death. They call it a God complex. And by God, I have it. \n\n\"Doctor?\" \n\n\"Ephinephrine, stat.\"\n\nI watch as the auto-injector goes straight in, leaving its tell-tale bullseye prick, where a needle goes in and the circle from the auto-injector pushes a little too deep into the flesh. It's beautiful, not unlike Lyme disease. Of course, this wasn't caused by a tick, or will leave you with symptoms so horrid you...\n\n\"Nothing. Doctor?\" The nurses are crowded around the bed now. They're waiting for my signal, my word of command. IV lines on standby, crash cart in the corner. It's a scene of immaculate, scrub-clad precision. Surgical precision, one might say, if this were surgery. \n\nIt's not. It's ER and I know what happened to this patient a full 30 seconds ago. I saw it in the twitch, that REM tell-tale sign that every Hypnos junkie has. I also spotted the burn mark on the lip, where the patient took his hit and touched the hot pipe against the flesh. It leaves a little sear. \n\n\"It's fine,\" I say, calmly once more. This may be the first time the nurses have to deal with it, but I've seen Hypnos throughout the city. The comas, the families reaching out, the lost loved ones and the long forgotten. They are the forlorn hope of humanity, drifting throughout their dreams, not wanting to wake up.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" The voice is a little screachy now, full of shock and surprise. They're wondering why I'm being so casual about it.\n\n\"He's just a Hypnos junkie,\" I say, placid and soothing. The epinephrine will give his system a little jump start, but if his vitals are stable - HR spikes now, BP 140/110mmHg but crashing - he'll be fine. All we can do is wire him up with IV fluids, slip in a little TPN to keep him going, and wait for him to bother to wake up.\n\n\"Doctor, is that really professional?\" The nurse asks. \n\nI turn to her, grab her round the waist, and kiss her. \n\n\"No, nurse. Nor was that. But if you want this man up, so be it.\" I point my finger at him and lift him out of the bed. He floats like David Copperfield, right in front of the spectators. Suddenly he awakens, and dances the can-can. Beautiful.\n\nGod complex? Sure. In the wonderful world of Hypnos, I am a God. Why should I ever wake up?" ]	6
	[WP] When it is your time to die, God personally comes down from Heaven and kills you. Everyone else can see him.	[ "The day was clear and bright, the first true day of summer. The park was quiet, and only a few happy children were playing near a big old tree. Jake sat on a bench, quietly humming some annoyingly catchy song he heard earlier. He was going to a nearby store, but the weather was just too good to hurry.\n\nLya had a simple plan — go to the store, grab a beer, be back. But when she saw the angels, she stepped to the side street and waited until they were gone. She didn't have anything illegal, but one never knew. Of course, Mike was still going to be pissed that she was so slow — but better him than the angels.\n\nThe doorbell chimed as Jake went through. There was another shopper inside, and the the man at the register, but no one else. Just after him, Lya went in and went directly to the beer shelves.\n\nThen another chime.\n\nAt first no one even looked at the door. Jake's shadow grew in front of him and he noticed that with detachment, curiosity, disbelief. The light grew sharper, brighter, and brighter still. Lya turned and beer can dropped from her hand, rolled under the shelf. She wanted to speak, to warn others, but she could not speak a word. The shadows jumped once more.\n\nAnd then there was light.\n\n------------------------------------\n\nIt didn't take much space in newspapers, and there was no photos in the article. There never were. It was considered a bad taste to pay too much attention.\n\nBut some people did. There were flowers at the doorstep, with a card — \"From Mike\", in big awkward letters. He went inside, too — and saw the can of boiled beer under the coals that were a shelf once. And the shadows forever burned into the walls.\n\nFour people, four shadows.", "\n“Is it too much to ask for a little gosh darn golf etiquette?” Chuck wondered aloud. He glanced back behind him and turned to his friend Justin as a light flashed. It draped over his eyes with an intense white heat, like a migraine birthed from a dying star. Chuck had gotten severe headaches as a child, but his chest tightened with the feeling that this was different. His stomach turned as if he was saying his first “I Love You”, and just then his veins pulsed with an electricity that could only come from something greater than himself. He turned to his first and best friend, and with the whimper of a trapped animal cried, “I think I’m gonna freakin’ die.” \n\nHe had stopped swearing four years ago, when God had begun to make himself known again. He figured every lit bit helped, right? It had been described a million ways, with differing details but similar outcomes – you have two minutes left alive until God comes down to make his judgment, sending you…well…somewhere. That part hadn’t been documented. Chuck had just turned 43-years-old, an outspoken atheist with a doctorate in Physics until God began making personal house calls. It’s easy to change your mind people are routinely predicting their own death.\n\nHe had enough sense not to panic over a foregone conclusion. They both stood frozen for a few seconds on the green of the 14th hole at Costa Del Sol, their local Golf Course that they tried to play as much as time would allow. Chuck’s mind raced for the correct plan of action. \n\n“Can I borrow your phone?” he asked Justin. His phone was back at the golf cart, and if time was ever a factor, it was now. Justin sensed it as well and had it in his hand before his question was finished, placing it firmly as he wrapped his arms around his friends. \n\n“If this is it, you’re my best friend and my brother. Your family is my family. I love you.” Justin could have stayed there forever but walked away to give his friend his last moments. \n\nChuck dialed his wife Karen’s number and prayed to whoever was heading his way that she picked up. His mind flooded with thoughts of the past. Will he get to make amends with his father? Did he waste too much time at work? Was he too selfish? \n\nThe phone wasn’t finding a signal as he ended the call and tried again. He thought for an instant to try his daughter Jane, but he had forced her to come home early last night and she hadn’t talked to him since. He dropped to his knees in tears as the phone continued to fail. All he wanted was a goodbye. \n\nHis second call dropped. \n\nHe felt his heart race as anger swelled up inside of him. He went to scream into the phone when he saw Justin walking back up to him. \n\n“It’s okay, Chuck.” He said. His eyes were softer and as he put his hand on Chuck’s shoulder, a blast of warmth came over him that brought him to his feet and dried the tears on his face. He stared at Justin for a second before asking, “Is it You?”\n\n“A lot of people blame me for AT&T’s service. But honestly I have nothing to do with it,” He replied with a smile. \n\nChuck relaxed a bit at the joke. “I appreciate the sense of humor. Really.” he said.\n\n“I know this. And I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right, life isn’t fair. It can’t be. But I’m talking to your girls right now. They love you. So be at peace.” \n\n“Tell them I love them. That I wish I spent more time with them. That I would give anything to spend more time with them,” Chuck begged.\n\n“I did,” He said peacefully, “And you will.” \n\nChuck shifted his gaze for a second to the sunset coming down over the Catalina Foothills before finally gaining the courage to look at Him. “Where am I going?”\n\n“I can’t tell you that. Not yet. But don’t be afraid.”\n\nChuck smiled and turned back to the sunset. “How does it happen?”.\n\n“Let’s just say I heard you appreciate golf etiquette,” He replied as he took the 4-iron from Chuck’s hand.\n\nChuck tilted his head, curious and confused. “What do you me-“\n\n“Four!!!” He shouted.\n\nThe crack of a Titelist Pro V1 golf ball hitting Chuck’s temple was the last thing he heard. \n" ]	2
	[WP] A psychopath kidnaps random people and puts them into dangerous situations that resemble the scenario of their favourite videogames.	[ "Water dripped from the pipes he'd dented. She had kept her eyes closed as long as she could but his incessant talking finally broke her. \"Seriously? This is what I have to work with? Yu-Gi-Oh War of Roses? That game is almost two decades old...fine whatever. I want someone that likes Pong next Jeff- worst assistant yet...\" Kendra's lips curled up a quarter inch. \"Well look who's awake now? Hello Kendra- welcome to death by your love.\"\n\n\"Let me go!\" She threw her body from left to right trying to rock the chair to the ground. \n\n\"Yeah, that's not going to happen,\" he pointed to the legs of the chair. Two bolts and metal clips were in the legs and the floor. \"Give us a few hours and we'll get started. I'll have to ebay some Yu-Gi-Oh cards because of your stupid favorite game listed.\"\n\n\"That's not my favorite game anymore...where did you even look to find that information? Like MySpace? That can't be the last update i made the FB...\" Kendra said. \"You should let me go though, just freedom is a right and stuff.\"\n\n\"I...hacked a site for that data. It's been very reliable for years.\"\n\n\"It's definitely myspace isn't it? Dude, worst serial killer ever. I mean are you even a serial killer or am i your first- if you're hacking myspace i must be first because there is no one on that site ever.\"\n\n\"I transferred into this- nevermind! You'll have to beat your precious Yu-Gi-Oh game- in real life!- if you want to live Kendra!\"\n\n\"Sure. I summon Blue Eyes White Dragon, I win.\"\n\n\"No..that's not how this works. You have to travel the little pathways and beat all of the opponents or,\" the man stepped into the light. He was a short man in a button down.\n\n\"...Professor Carl? Is this another psych experiment. I switched majors okay? Damn, leave me alone man,\" Kendra said.\n\n\"Ah shit, i forgot my mask didn't I? We really miss you as a student Kendra.\"\n\n\"Well now i'm definitely not coming back. And stop using Myspace to torture people; use facebook or snapchat at least man. YikYak all day erryday!\" Kendra threw her handcuffed hands up in the air in support of her favorite social media sites.\n\n\"We'll work on that. You still have to play the game though. The room will be ready in a few more minutes,\" Professor Carl said. He left with the packet still in his hand. This was just Kendra's luck- she would have to play Yu-Gi-Oh with her hands tied. Maybe Exodia would save her in this war of Roses.", "I don't know how long it's been. \nMy arms are tired and the green glow is starting to dim. \nI'm becoming delirious. \nThe diving board taunts me. \nThe ladder was right there... \nMaybe if I keep swimming, someone will hear me, or see me...even though I know in my soul I'm being watched. \nShe did this to me. \nWho would have thought that my own wife was the one they were talking about on America's Most Wanted? \nWe even watched that episode together!! \nA familiar song plays in the background. \nIts happy-go-lucky melody would make me sick to my stomach if there was anything left to empty. \nMy body aches from the added weight of the orb she has me carry. \nIf I drop the orb, I die. \nIf I stop swimming, I die. \nIf the light from the orb goes out, I die. \nHer taunts are what keep me awake and my will to live is what keeps me going. \n\n\n\"This is your fault. Think of how those people felt. You're the murderer. No one considers the possibility of simulations being alive. What if it's not just a game? What if there's some poor soul out there, right now, sitting in a room with no access to food just because you thought it would be fun to starve them? Or...or what about those mysterious house fires where the smoke detector can't be found in the remains? Now the world will know...now the world will know what it's like to be a sim.\"", "John came to in a dimly lit room. Sun was peaking through the flower print curtains across from the rickety metal bed that he was laying on. Singing his feet down to the floor and pushing himself up was a chore. His head was still a little rattle from having been knocked out the night before. \n\n“Fuck me.” He wispered to himself, looking around the room while prodding the edges of the welt on the back of his head. He saw a table under the window that had a glass of water, some aspirin and a note on it. \n\nWalking was a little sketchy for him at the moment, his legs were stiff from sleep. A long sleep at that, he was out for much longer than one night, or so the note said. As he read the words on the note he quickly realized that he wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Well Missouri actually, he lived on the east side of town. \n\nYou were kidnapped on December 1st, it is now Decmber 3rd. The water and aspirin provided should help clear your head and help you focus. I suggest that you take them now, as you read this. Time is of the essence, you see. I have placed you on a tropical island in the middle of the Pacific. An international drug smuggler and his pirate employees use this island as a refueling depot and source of cheap labor, provided unwillingly by the local population of natives. If you look under the bed you woke up on you will find three things, a large knife, a gun with some ammo and a significant amount of pure cocaine stolen from the pirates. I took the liberty of leaving a picture of you behind for them, as a parting gift. \n\nMake it to the northwest corner of the island, there you will find a broken down boat with a radio inside. You can reach me at 34.500 mHz. Do that, and I’ll show you your next objective. \n\n“What the fuck?” John set the note down and turned to look under the bed. Sure enough, drugs, knife gun, the whole shebang was there. Then a knock came from the door to the room. John walked over and took the gun from under the bed and tucked it into his belt, like they do in the movies. \n\nHe walked over to the door and peered through the peephole. A man with dark hair, a red t-shirt and an AK-47 stood on the other side. John quickly stepped to the side of the door and sunk to the ground. “This is crazy, just like that game I was playing!” He wispered to himself as he pulled knife out from under the bed. On the bright side, he knew what should happen next. John stood up and opened the door. The man recognized him instantly and opened fire, killing John in a spray of bullets from his AK-47. \n\n“Stupid bitch, I could hear you through the door.” The man said to John’s corpse. “The cocaine’s in here. Tell the fucking desk jockey to call the boss and let him know we got it back.” The man bent down to search through John’s pockets. \n“You thought you were crazy, huh? Thought you could jump out of a plane and fly like a bird. Heh that is crazy man. Oh, I like this phone. This is a nice fucking phone. Do you mind if I keep it? What’s that? I can? Why thank you.”\n" ]	3
Honestly, I have no clue where this prompt came from. Either way, I hope someone rolls with it and enjoys it!	[WP] The mafia has an odd unwritten rule; You never kill a good cook. You have just witnessed a murder, and to prove your claims that you are a cook, you must prepare your best dish for the boss.	[ "Two cloves garlic, sweet onions, artichokes, spicy olive oil, freshest of basil, dozen ripe tomatoes and fresh mama pasta. Time to make the best food this son of a bitch has ever tasted.\n\nI throw down the ingredients and get to chopping the vegetables. Schick, shick, shick. Dice the onion. Schunk. Chop the base of the artichoke. Crack, crack, crack. Peel the leaves from the artichoke. Oil the pan. Turn on the heat to medium. Wait for the slow oily vapours to rise from the pan. Shweek, schunk. Press and cut the garlic from the machina. Tss. Adding the onions into the pan. The sweet aroma hits your nose and you half think this might work. Tss. the bulbous foods continue their slow simmer of savoury combinations. \n\nGlorp glorp. You empty the water into the 2-gallon stainless pan. Clunk, and set it down onto the largest burner. Turn that shit to HIGH you think. \n\nRip rip the leaves from the stem of the basil plant. Shred it in your fingers and smell the lucious aroma of fresh herbs. Set it aside and wash the tomatoes. The distinct smell of the vine blends smoothly with the basil on your fingers. If it doesn't taste good, at least it smells uh-mazing. \n\nSplorp, splosh. I smush the red fruits into the small pan, smashing and breaking the pieces into a sea of red. Sea of red. Nope, can't think about that, got to find my inner cook. \n\nBlop, blorp, blop, tss. The pasta gets placed gently into the steamy, boiling water. Time noted on the clock. 4:07. Just 18 hours ago. \n\nTSS... the vapour overwhelms your face, the hot moisture leaving its mark on the walls of the kitchen. I shake the pasta in the strainer, removing any last fading memories of its boiling past. \n\nSchlorp, schlorp. I mix the fresh white pasta into the dark crimson sauce. A dribble of the gravy escapes down the side of the pan. I take care of it. I lid the food and wrap it in a heavy towel. Wrapping it up nice and tight and placing it carefully in the trunk of my auto. \n\nI drive to the spot. I get out and pop the trunk. I walk the steps to the door. Ring the bell. Wait. Footsteps come from within the home. A boy, fives years at most, opens the door and asks for me to wait. Wait. Again, footsteps from inside. Heavier and slower. The door opens and a man in a tall white hat and white apron appears. He beckons me in. I try to just give him my pan. He gently places his hand on my shoulder. \n\nDing ding. The sound of a bell alerts the home owner of a fresh offering. I ask to leave so I can get home to my cat. The man asks me to wait a while longer. \n\nThe home owner can be heard in the other room. He sounds tired. Clink, schlorp, clink clink. I wait. I wait another half hour. I hear the same heavy slow footsteps. The man in white says I can leave now. ", "One shot, I think, the sweat dripping down my nose into the pot. Good thing the bigwigs are out in the dining room, or I'd be a dead man already. \n \n\"Where the hell's the main course?\" Mario asks, his squat frame filling the doorway. \"Murder builds quite the appetite, capeesh?\" \n \n\"Right away, Marco! You can't rush perfection - it'll be the meal of your life! I guarantee it!\" \n \n\"Oh, I know... Or else... Haha...\" \n \nOK, so his name wasn't really Mario outside my head; he just looked the part: a short, fat Italian, ridiculous moustache, bad hair. No red overalls, just a bad knockoff of a quality Italian suit (the tag reads 'Guchi') on a bad knockoff of an Italian-American gangster. The poor cut doesn't hide the gun at his side, but maybe that's the point: he's the shooter. That's all he's good for, despite his father's best efforts to groom a successor. He's not smart, not witty, not a tenth as sophisticated as he thinks he is. Most gratingly, tonight he's right. If I don't pull this off, I'm dead. \n \nQuickly the pasta goes on the plate, followed by the fish, and topped by the sauce. Balanced expertly across my arms, I take the six dishes to the hungry mafiosos in the dining room. \n \n\"Eccellente! Giorgio, what is this wonderful smell?\" \n \n\"Linguine alla palla, Don Carlo. My signature dish - a hint of Asia,the freshest of fish with a traditional white sauce from scratch. Truly an honor to prepare it for you.\" I told him my name was George. No matter. His Italian accent may be a put-on, but at least it beats his son's. \n \n\"What the hell? I'm not a goddamn peshatarian, I'm at the top of the food chain! Make me some meat, or you're dead!\" \n \nI gulp. The meathead must be mollified, or he'll make a mince of me. \n \n\"Marco! Enough! One does not dictate to an artist of this caliber!\" The Don comes to my rescue. If only he knew. \"Now eat!\" \n \nAs all present dig in, I watch carefully to see them each take several bites of fish. \n \n\"Dios mio! It falls apart in the mouth!\" \n \nNice try, Mario. But that's Spanish. \n \n\"It's tenderized in a marinade made from its own liver.\" I drop the bait, but they still don't know. \n \n\"Fuckin' gross!\" Mario replies, but it doesn't slow him down. Or any of the others. Good. \n \nReaching behind my neck, I start untying the apron. Unceremoniously, I throw it on the table, pick up Mario's glass of red wine, and drink it dry. \n \n\"The FUCK?!\" he exclaims, reaching for his gun, \"You're dead!\" \n \nBut I stand there, smirking, as he can't seem to get his hand wrapped around the pistol. A loud clash is heard from the head of the table as Don Carlo's fork falls from his hand, a puzzled look on his face. I start chuckling. \n \n\"A nice full-bodied red, for a more than full-bodied goomba.\" \n \n\"The hell's wrong with you, you, you half-breed CHINK!\" \n \nNice one, Mario. Never heard that one before. \n \n\"Linguine alla palla, the latter short for pesca palla, the pufferfish. You were warned, if only you knew your own language. Marinated in its own liver, the tetrodotoxin is enough to kill from a single bite.\" \n \n\"..but... hhoww... Y-you werre jjust... inn...\" \n \n\"-The wrong place at the wrong time? No, Don Carlo, I was right where I meant to be. How else to get close enough? You were always so cautious, surrounded by your guards. Xiao Mei sends her regards. She regrets the necessity, but you know the south side is ours. Your appetite was just too large. How fitting for it to be your undoing.\" \n \nAs they fall over sputtering, my phone rings. I answer. \n \n\"Renwu wancheng le. Shi. Shi de. Hao.\" Mission accomplished. Yes. Yes. Okay. \n \nI walk out the front door. On to the next job. Another set of customers served, with no complaints. After all, I did give them the meal of their lives.", "The blindfold came off and I found myself in front of a wooden table with three plates covered by those silver dome things. \n\n\"Hello and welcome to Cook for Your Life\" said a man off to the side into a microphone \"Contestants are you ready\"\n\nI looked left and right. There was no one else.\n\n\"Excuse my friend\" I turned to the mob boss sitting just into the darkness of the warehouse \"We usually do more than one at a time, and he's a creature of habit\"\n\n\"That's ok. No wait…why am I here?\"\n\n\"All will be explained soon enough\" said the mob boss\n\n\"Could you just tell me why I'm here\"\n\n\"Each contestant will have three ingredients and 90 minutes to make a meal that will either satisfy the boss, or seal their fate. Contestants are you ready to…\"\n\n\"Seal. Your. Fate\" \n\n\"Who said that?\"\n\n\"They did\" said the Mob boss, motioning over his shoulder. A light came on, briefly showing an audience of mobsters eating popcorn and cleaning their guns.\n\n\"So I just have to make a good meal and you won't kill me?\" I said\n\n\"That's right\" said the announcer \"Are you an idiot or something?\"\n\n\"So why is this being filmed\"\n\n\"Eh Tony Expostion\" said the mob boss\n\nTony walked into the light of the set.\n\n\"Well for some reason chefs kept witnessing our murders. Probably because we kept killing people in their restaurants. And we spent so much time seeing which chefs were good we have time for mob stuff, like people in restaurants, so we started filming these things and archiving them\"\n\n\"Thank you Tony\" said the mob boss as Tony faded into the darkness \"Sings like a canary to the cops but damn if that son of a bitch can't explain something\"\n\n\"Alright, it's time to…\"\n\n\"Reveal. The. Ingredients\"\n\nThey only thought I was a cook because after a life time of watching cartoons I thought it was a valid strategy to run into an abandoned kitchen, put on a chef hat and stir an empty metal bowl saying 'la la la, I'm a cook'. In retrospect they really should have seen through it. I had been stirring with wasn't an electric whisk. \n\nLike I was making a stirring motion with an electric whisk that wasn't plugged in.\n\nThe truth was, not only was I not a cook, but every meal I had ever made had ended in explosive diarrhea for no less than 75% of consumers. Even then, that's probably only because I had built up a resistance.\n\nBut I was due to make something that wasn't just a cheap laxative right?\n\n\"Your ingredients are…\"\n\nExhale\n\n\"A cup of water\"\n\nDammit\n\n\"A pack of tic tacs\"\n\nShit\n\n\"And this prepared Chicken Dinner with mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables, served with aged scotch and an after dinner mint\"\n\nFu…hmm\n\n…\n\n\nI held my hands together by my mouth and blew on them. It wasn't my first instinct but I felt like it was what you were supposed to do.\n\nThe mob boss was looking at the plate, judging it's visual presentation.\n\n\"It's really not there visually\"\n\nI don't know what had happened. I mean they had given me a full meal, which I thought was a trap but they didn't seem that smart.\n\nSomehow I had used all 90 minutes, half of the tic tacs and two glasses of water (I don't know, I just don't know).\n\nThe announcer had called time and the pristine chicken dinner was a mess, the seasonal vegetables spelled Redrum and the mashed potatoes were in the scotch.\n\nI shut my eyes as the mob boss took his first bite. \n\n\"Ack\"\n\nI opened one eye. The mob bosses face was purple and he was clawing at his throat.\n\n\"Ooooooooh\" I said\n\nHis eyes rolled back into his head. He slumped in his chair and died. Then his chest exploded showering me with blood, bone and viscera.\n\nI stared at the audience. They stared at me.\n\n\"Uhm\"\n\n\"He killed the boss\"\n\n\"About that\"\n\n\"With a chicken\"\n\n\"That…\"\n\n\"That makes him boss now\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Boss boss boss\" they cheered as the streamed down from their seats and lifted me into the air.\n\nThe announcer tapped me on the shoulder.\n\n\"Good job\"\n\n\"Job?\"\n\n\"Your cheque is in the mail\"\n\n\"What cheque\"\n\n…\n\n\n\"Anyway that's how I'm a mob boss now\" said Mob boss Mane Kurkter to the children sitting around his mountain of cocaine\n\n\"Tell us another one, tell us another one\" said the children\n\n\"It's time for bed\"\n\n\"Please\"\n\n\"Oh fine. This one is called Tony Exposition explains his last thing…\"\n", "These stainless steel kitchen appliances than normally would've made me run around the kitchen like an ADHD addled 6 year old seem more menacing than anything I have ever encountered. \n\n\"Holy shit is that an Anti griddle?\" I yelp involuntarily. \n\n\"Yep\" is the only response I receive from the waiting table of Mafioso's, although I think I just saw the slightest grin of knowing anticipation flit over the Don's lips. \n\nThe table he's seated at is occupied by five other men all dressed as sharp as a new Calaphon knife and looking famished. The table has crisp white linen and impeccable flatware spread across it. These are men who know fine dining, and I'm here to cook for my life. \n\nThe Mafia, or mob as they are sometimes known apparently has rules. One of them is to leave no witnesses, which is why I'm here in this immaculate dream of a kitchen. Another surprisingly is that you never kill a good cook. Which I hope will be my saving grace. I was unlucky enough to have been out smoking a cigarette behind Chez Labeouf after a long as hell service when I witnessed what even I knew was an execution. Two guys in over coats had a guy kneeling by the dumpsters, and I being the fucking idiot that I am though there was a little umm shall I say \"not straight extracurricular activity\" going on. \n\nI yelled, \"Hey guys! Beat it we don't need blow jobs going on back here!\", right as the two men standing shot the other dude right in his fucking face. We all jumped at once and the gangsters rushed over to grab me before I could even think. After roughing me up for a minute they had me kneel right next to that poor schmucks corpse and were about to make my face into steak tartar when the bigger of the two said, \"Wait a minute Giuseppe, this kid looks like a chef, look at the jacket and stupid ass pants!\".\n\n\"Aww fuck it Alfio let's just do him and be done with it!\"\n\n\"Hey Gus, you know da rule: Never kill a good cook! Let's take him to the boss and see what he's got. Worst case we get a free meal and shoot him in an hour or so.\" \n\nA couple more punches to my face and body and my apron tied around my head and here I am making the meal of my life, for my life. \n\nFirst step is prep, I walk over to the Sub-Zero and select my protein and veg. It's obvious what my starch is going to be. \n\n\"Okay\" I mumble to myself, \"Pasta, done. Sauce, simmering.\" \n\nThe mobsters have already tucked into my bruschetta, and caprese. The vegan bolognese also seems like it's been a hit. What I'm really worried about is the eggplant parmesan, and Osso Bucco, if they aren't as good as \"Mama use to make\" I may as well jump into the deep fryer. \n\nEverything is plated and looks great, but I am much to sick to enjoy the smell of perfectly blended herbs and spices. With shaking hands I serve these cold blooded sons of bitches and say a prayer. I'm ready to drop as they tuck in and sample my dishes. Most of them seem to be savoring every bite, but the Don's face is implacable. This mother fucker is impenetrable a goddamn obelisk, I can't tell if he loves it or hates it. \n\nI know that I'm pale and sweating more than a carafe of ice water left on griddle, god help me. Oh fuck he's done! He's going to speak! \n\n\"Good job Gus, you too Alfie the boy can cook!\" \n\nI actually see a smile breaking over his lips as he says, \"Hey kid you wanna job?\" " ]	4
	[WP] The world through the eyes of an ageist, racist, ableist, sexist, homophobic religious bigot.	[ "Well it had been a pretty regular day for me. I had gone through my normal routine: kissed my wife goodbye, dropped my two kids off at school, and driven in to work. At about noon, I headed out for lunch- that's where things took a turn.\n\nI was walking through downtown, on the way to my favorite sandwich shop when she saw me. She wasn't exactly a sight for sore eyes, probably the reason the eyes are so sore in the first place as rude as that is to say. She stepped out in front of me, stopping me in my tracks.\n\n\"Hey you, join our movement,\" she demanded, not letting me pass.\n\nI am not one prone to anger, but this woman annoyed me considerably. My lunch break wasn't that long, but I guess I could spare a moment and hear her out. \"What is your movement about, ma'am?\"\n\n\"It's the Black Lives Matter movement. Doesn't matter if you're white, just join it.\"\n\nI paused for a minute, before speaking, \"No, ma'am, I don't agree with that group's politics. Have a nice day, now.\"\n\nShe stood there, shocked, \"Wha- why?\"\n\n\"Well,\" I don't know why I elaborated, but I did nonetheless, \"they take people like Michael Brown, who had robbed a convenience store and attacked a police officer while he was still in his car, and they turn those people into martyrs for their movement. Then they go and riot, destroying their own neighborhoods and blaming it on the government. I'm sure there's a good side to the movement, but I can't stomach it at large so, no.\"\n\nShe was simmering. I was surprised at how long it took her to explode, but when she finally did, it was all I could expect. She looked at me as I began to walk away, and began to yell after me, \"You ageist, racist, ableist, sexist, uh, homophobic, religious bigot!\"\n\nI guess she must have ran out of words. I didn't care what she had to say after all that, I was just looking forward to lunch.", "\"C'mon skeeter, git er dun\" echoed around the room, followed by raspy, arduous laughter\n\nI sipped from my can of bud light and relaxed. It was a wonderful day. Today I made fun of an old person for being old, called a black person a jiggaboo and refused him entry onto a train, kicked a blind guy's feet out from under him, made fun of a jew's nose, told a group of gays god hates them, and told a stupid whore to get some clothes on.\n\nAnd then the nukes went off, and the world was no more, for the 95 year old black, gay, jewish woman president accidentally hit the big red button while reading about how she could get 35% off on a bunch of pink F-35s.\n\nMy television set changed channels immediately to the 95y/obgjwp's butt ugly face. I threw my can of beer at the television and started flipping through channels, but the only thing I could see was that retarded face. It was like a nightmare. \n\nAnd then, it sounded.\n\n\"People of safezonia, I accidentally launched the nukes. Woops haha.\"\n\nSweat beaded on the ugly creature's forehead.\n\nIn the background, people could be heard faintly screaming. A bunch of arms suddenly grabbed the creature and began pulling it from view. It struggled bravely, and before they managed to snap its neck, it uttered \"down with the patriarchy\".\n\nA response rumbled through the lands, resonating with the warheads. A dyke war-cry. The missles began to slow down, slowly vibrating in the air.\n\nThe dykes were experienced with handling warheads like these, but something went wrong. The warheads blew. The explosion was amazing and strange. The explosion advanced towards the sources of the war-cry, tearing apart atoms as it went. Had the dyke war-cry manipulated fission? Before they knew it, the fiery apocalypse got all over their faces, and they were no more.\n\n\"Worst porno ever\" said Skeeter.\n\nRaspy and raucous laughter sounded.\n\nEnd scene." ]	2
	[WP] Life is actually a video game.	[ "The moment I knew this reality is not complex enough to be substantial in three dimensions was when I found the source. Anyone who finds the source is pulled by the moderators, reality outside this...and what I'm writing in avatar mode. What you are reading in avatar mode. See the thing is, it is almost indistinguishable from the real thing, only studying the matter will reveal the truth. Once an avatar is pulled it cannot come back to the simulation.\n\nI've told people this before, none believe me even when I explain it scientifically, and I'm sure some will understand but I have decided to inform anyways perhaps others will see the truth. In order to know the truth you must know cause and effect. The cause for our reality? A simulation designed to discover a method for rebuilding the universe, in reality the four races of the universe are in a struggle living diversely on a dyson sphere. Brass, a relic designed much like earth's atmosphere and the race of humans that lived there. Participants of the last four remaining races have created simulators, sadly humans are not among them, though their digital archive was collected in a deep space probe whose launch date was 2525. \n\nThe struggle I speak of is the K65BH a black hole so large it has decimated 15 galaxies with known life. Nothing can stop it. Nothing but the humans of planet earth had a wild theory, that energy in all it's forms is relative and transversative, if the energy that goes in can come back out life can be recreated. however the simulation is millenias away from completing that goal. We did not expect humans to be so destructive and greedy in nature such an odd species.\n\nThis the cause of the simulation and the effect is that we learn through their evolution what the four of our races combined could not by playing out simulations in multiple universes. I hacked an avatar and jumped back in the simulation to make the avatars aware and speed up the process in hopes of making you all realize this. Humans no longer exist, we are just hosts for their echo of life according to anomalous records of the MW galaxy their sun cooked their planet due to their stratosphere rotting away from carbon emissions in the year 2389. A small outpost they had started on their sister planet Mars survived for another eight centuries before war and disease killed the rest. \n\nThe science of how I discovered this? It's simple really, pay attention to the moment an electrical atom splits it's hadrons that brief space between the moment it diffuses and creates a quark and anti quark. It's a transistor switching in the simulator calling on a directory of functions...you can actually hear the switch if you listen closely. Color in reality is far more complex than the limited chromatics of the earth simulator, it's mind boggling at first then you begin to realize that it's normal.\n\nOf course I'm not the first to discover this, Einstein became Hemlin, Tesla became Vonderbroc and Van Hester, they came back in and tried to teach too. However the simulator has become quite popular for purposes other than scientific, some create new avatars to enjoy them...and there are no rules against it because each non essential purpose we have found eventually becomes essential into human's evolution.\n\nArt inspires, beauty transgresses, love creates...I for one, as many others who do not sim on the earth verses have faith in them. In us? Kind of odd, that when my simulation has terminated I will be reviewing this excerpt in my quarters in mere hours from now in realtime. The committees who moderate the verses believe that radical exposure to the simulation will taint the process of the end goal. I currently have thirty two life years in this particular avatar and fifteen yet to go so feel free to contact me and ask questions I have nothing but time. ", "Think about it, life is the most non-linear game and we're playing it.\n\n\nEvery stage in life is a level, everyone's life always has a different story to it\nand somewhere, up above, there could be someone watching us play ourselves at our own game.\n\n\nIt starts with you being born. You are placed in a location and assigned a family. Through the early stages you discover the power to walk, talk and feel, along with that you take everything else the game of life throws at you. Meanwhile, you interact with everyone around. The non playable characters or NPC's as I like to call them. They help you get through the early stages and teach you how to get through your own game of life, whilst they're slowly progressing through theirs. You become accustomed to the atmosphere yet discover more scenery as you explore and push yourself to try new things.\n\n\nThen you get to the second stage in life... School. Here is where you learn all the basics to beating the game of life. You learn the strategies to use to your advantage whilst learning the disadvantages and how to avoid them. You meet friend and foe in the classroom, yet there's the unsuspecting imminence of betrayal, lurking at every corner. As you grow older you are given tasks such as homework or chores to prepare you for what's to come in your teenage years.\n\n\nBut sometimes games can get boring which is discovered by the time you are accustomed to your conscience you start deciding for yourself. Then you could say entertainment enters the scene. Entertainment is what a lot of people spend most of their time doing, including me. But that's from the content that's included in my game, yours could be different. After all, you never know what life is going to give you, it's randomly generated with alterations made by your NPC's. In fact, I'm also an NPC in your game too. Back to topic, there's also a variety of entertainment you choose from in your game, including games themselves.\n\n\nThen once you complete school you enter high school. However, the levels, stages or chapters in life aren't named, so we'll refer to it as the teenage stage for now. When you enter this you come to terms with all the emotions. Love, grief, fear, anxiety, rage, exasperation. And then there's one more emotion. You can gain it for a brief period of time, but there's a way to unlock it permanently. No one knows how, and when they think they have, there's no knowing whether they truly have achieved happiness or whether they've just unlocked it temporary.\n\n\nI guess the best way to explain how to unlock happiness is to describe life as a driving game. There's twists and sharp turns that catch you off guard. But you've got to keep driving. But the problem with life is that it's an easy game to get lost in. Sometimes people take alternate routes or are given directions by their friends and family. But for others, they just give up and there's a sudden stop.", "The teacher was putting some equation on the board. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Guess that's what I get for not increasing my intelligence skill. Everyone else seemed to have got it, a handful looked as confused as me. Seems I need a 5+ Intelligence to understand this. Ms. Becker quickly turned around to pick a student to come up and solve it. I quickly used my invisilibility potion, thank you big bro. I smiled knowing that I'm not going to embarass myself trying to solve it. When all of the sudden, she stares straight at me. \n\n\"Jacob, you might have gotten away with it if I didn't increase my perception skill 2 points this weekend. I'll be lenient on you. If you can solve this equation I will not write you up for using that potion in glass\"\n\nI took a big sigh and got up. I saw the equation and knew I was going to probably get detention. I saw that everyone was snickering, the dumb ones had a look of relief they weren't going up. As I was approaching the board. I felt my intelligence go up. I looked again at the board, and the equation seem so simple now. \n\nI got to thank Rebecca, thank god for her special ability. To transfer skill points to anyone she desires. The teacher was shocked yet pleased that I wasn't just coasting through her class. And I got some XP for solving that equation which increased my intelligence. " ]	3
	[WP] Tell us the story of the lil' parachute that is afraid of heights and refuses to open...	[ "One day there was a stuntman named Steve.\nSteve was fresh out of school and was following his life long dream becoming a skydiver.\nAlong the way he met Jimmy, the parachute.\nJimmy was a fun guy to hang out with and Steve brought him everywhere often using him as a normal backpack and someone to talk to.\nBut today was different, today was Steve's first jump with Jimmy.\nThe plane doors opened and Steve was so excited to finally achieve his dream with his best friend.\nSteve jumped and felt the wind through his hair.\n\"STEVE\" yelled Jimmy.\n\"What\" Steve replied calmly.\n\"IM SCARED OF HEIGHTS\" Jimmy yelled.\n\"All you have to do is open when i say, its fine\" Steve said.\n\"I CANT, I CANT DO ANYTHING WHEN IM GETTING ANXIETY\" Jimmy screamed\n\"HOLY FUCKING SHIT JIMMY THIS IS NOT THE TIME\" Steve yelled.\n\"IM SORRY MAN IM SORRY\" Jimmy yelled.\n\"GODDAMMIT JIMMY JUST OP-\" was Steve's last words.\nRemember kids, always make sure your friends are comfortable before you do something with them.", "Once upon a time, very high up and without a care, a man named Mike jumped out of a plane and into the air. Mike had checked his buckles and checked his straps, Mike had checked his kneepads, elbow pads, map, goggles, and hats. But Mike forgot one thing, that clear summers day, as he flew up in his plane. Mike forgot to check in with his parachute, Wayne.\nWayne, was newly sewn you see, his colorful silk tucked away factory tight, never knowing sun, wind or height. Wayne thought he would feel excitement, but all Wayne felt, was fright. \n\n\"I can't do this!\" Whispered Wayne to his stuffed rat Mims, as he quivered from fear, \"We should have thought through this! Maybe started with a pier!\"\n\nMike laugh as the wind whipped at his face, \"I believe in you Wayne! No going back now! I've already set the pace! Your have Mims with you yes? The strongest rat in the cave? Try to be like him Wayne, try and be brave!\"\n\nWayne though very hard, but came to the hard steely fact,\n\n\"No Mike Im not ready, I've only newly been packed! The days not right for a fall, we've got to get out of here! Isn't there anyone you can call?\"\n\nNow Mike was bewildered, and eyed his gauges with fear, \n\n\" There is no getting out of this! I'm pulling the cord, get out here!\"\n\nWayne constricted in his fear, and pulled the cord out of Mike's hand,\n\n\"I told you I cant! I want to get back on land!\"\n\n\"Wayne! What the fuck are you doing!?\"\n\nWayne shook with fear, being yelled at made it worse! Plus he hated whenever Mike said a curse.\n\n\"Wayne! Come on buddy! You've got to come out!\"\n\n\" ...you said a bad word!\" Said Wayne with a pout.\n\n\"Damn right I did! You're a fucking parachute! Now chute! We don't have much time!\"\n\n\"I'm not sure if I can.\" Wayne wept as wind whipped, \" ...what if my colors are ugly, or my chute is ripped?\"\n\nThat's what this is about?! Wayne you son of a-\"\n\nWayne closed his eyes, held his breath and his rat, and rode Mike all the way down, till he went splat.", "Once upon a time there was a lil' parachute that was very scared of falling.\n\nHe would never ever open, or fall, or even go near tall structures because he was so afraid of falling and hurting himself.\n\nAll the other parachutes tried to tell him that if he just trusted himself and opened, he wouldn't be afraid anymore and would be safe, but our little buddy didn't really think he could. He was afraid of failing, and hurting himself, so he usually just stayed on the ground, all closed and wadded up where nothing could harm him.\n\nUntil one day, when a curious squirrel came near. Lil' Parry was sleeping until he felt a gentle tug, and then felt himself being carried by some sort of running animal. He opened his eyes and saw the squirrel holding him in it's teeth, and to his great fear, started running up a tree, a tall tree, a very tall tree.\n\n\"Oh, no no no no...\" Parry cried out, but to no avail. His cries only excited the squirrel onward, until eventually he was perched on the very edge of a tree branch, higher than Parry had ever been before. With a simple flick, the squirrel let go of Parry, and let him fall down towards the so far away ground.\n\nTime seemed to slow down for Parry. As he fell, he thought about opening. He couldn't exactly fail, anymore-he didn't have to worry about what anyone else thought, or how he was going to be judged. If he kept closed, he would certainly fail, and fall. \n\nBut if he opened, there was a chance-\n\nParry squinted, tried his very hardest, and then-\n\nParry opened.\n\nLike a fragile leaf, blown around by the wind, Parry floated down, at the mercy of the wind currents, but totally at ease with the world. He wasn't failing, or dying, or anything the sort.\n\nBut he was flying, exactly, either.\n\nWhen Parry really thought about it, all he was really doing was falling with style. " ]	3
	[WP] There is a: 43% chance you will be burned alive, 23% chance of being drowned, 15% chance of being hangef to death, 9% chance of being beheaded, 7% chance of bleeding out, 2.5% chance of being poisoned and .5% chance of being shot to death.	[ "“Never tell me the odds!” I screamed at Red Molly, banking the Vincent into a sharp turn. I could feel the 70 horses between my legs bucking, could almost hear their pounding hooves over the end-of-the-world roar of the motorcycle, taking hairpin turns in the Rocky Mountains, 100 miles an hour, 8,000 feet in the air, and barely a car’s length between me and the half-dozen Kawasakis that had been chasing me since Cheyenne.\n\nRed Molly was still chirping over the headset. “Josh, I’ve run the scenario over 8,000 times! There’s no way you can walk away from this!”\n\n\"Well, not with that attitude,” I muttered, leaning into another curve. \n\n“Bad copy, Josh. Come back?”\n\n“Never mind. Look, if you want to help--” I risked a look over my shoulder, saw six flat black helmets staring straight at me, and swallowed. “Actually, I’ve got no idea. So that’s your first job. Figure out what will help.”\n\n“There is a--”\n\n“You said that already. Look, can you, I dunno, hack an IP or something?”\n\n“Wow, you’ve really got no idea what it is I do, do you?”\n\nMaybe it was the thin air, but that made me smile. “I saw Live Free or Die Hard. I know exactly what you do.” \n\nOne of the bikers was closing in, coming up on my left side. Black leather from head to toe. An Enforcer. And another five behind him. \n\nHe was creeping up, one gauntleted hard extended. I held my breath, waiting for him to get closer. When he was less than a fingernail’s width away, I lashed out, kicking him in the knee. I wobbled, but I was able to compensate. He wasn’t.\n\nThe bike twisted, and the Enforcer tried to straighten out. He slammed into the steep rock wall with a sickening sound of shearing metal. I saw him pitch forward, face first into the stone, then I was around another corner.\n\n“One down,” I said. “How are my chances now?”\n\n“Grim. Listen, satellite shows a straight couple of miles coming up. They’ll be able to catch you there.”\n\nI grunted, but she was right. The Black Shadow was a beast, but it wasn’t the bike it used to be. The crotch rockets would tear me up on a straight road. “Okay. Ideas, now.”\n\n“Well…” I pictured Red Molly, biting her lip in front of the computer, the way she did right before one of those strokes of genius. “I’ve got one, but you won’t like it.”\n\n“Don’t care. Do it.”\n\n“Okay,” she said. “Two minutes.”\n\nI thought about telling her that I probably didn’t have that long, then decided she already knew. I would just have to trust her. Again. \n\nWhen the Enforcers started closing in, I squared my shoulders and tried to coax a little bit more speed out of the machine. But it wasn’t enough. I knew it wasn’t enough, and it wouldn’t be enough.\n\nThat’s when the A-10 came over the horizon. \n\nI think--I don’t know, but I like to think--that all six of us just sort of stared at it for a second. Then it opened up with the Avenger, and everything started going to hell.\n", "\"And welcome back to our game show, Done it or Dead!\" The announcer said through the microphone as spotlights shone onto the stage and the drumroll ensues, \"And our lovely host, Lauren Fault!\"\n\nA wide array of pink and purple lights shone onto the left side of the stage as a woman walked out, shining in her bright neon suit in the glimmer of the stage as the crowds cheered on her. Waving to the crowd, she smiled as she extended her hand to the right side of the stage to the three people sitting there as the spotlights shone on them too one by one.\n\n\"Hello ladies and gentlemen and welcome back to Done it or Dead!\" Fault said with a sultry voice, \"And let me introduce our final guests: Celine Hope, Harry Caution, and Livy Well!\"\n\n\"Hi everyone..\" Caution said with a quiet and nervous voice.\n\n\"Who's ready for this round?!\" Well said with an enthusiastic voice\n\n\"I think I have a good chance of winning.\" Hope stated with a blank face\n\n\"So then dear guests,\" Fault said as she bowed when a trapdoor was heard opening behind her ensued by rumbling, \"I bid thee welcome to the-\" \n\nThe rumbling had stopped to reveal a truly awesome sight as the crowd was struck with the surprise they are now seeing with their eyes. Flashing camera shutters scatter throughout the place as people started chattering and shouting and screaming. The three contestants gasped with fear as they witnessed the sight.\n\n\"Murderer's Playground.\" Fault said with a gleam of evil\n\n\"So my dear viewers!\" Fault said as she walked towards the playground set, \"This set is the real deal for all those who had sinned against society!\" She said as she started to play around it, waltzing like a ballerina, \"Let me show you the ropes, like literally!\" She sadistically laughed as she swished her hand through some hanging nooses. \"This is the Hang Man! And this...\" she said as she went over to a wall about 10 feet high with small holes, \"These are the Big Guns!\" She winked as she went over the many intricate details about the playground itself as the viewers and the contestants watched with fear. Before even finishing her twisted tour, someone from the audience shouted:\n\n\"This is crazy!!\" A male's voice resounded throughout the studio as more ensued; protesting against the playground before Fault looked behind her and smiled.\n\n\"Not at all. This is retribution.\" She simply said.\n\n\"For whom?!\" A lady from the front row shouted at her\n\n\"Why,\" Fault chuckled as she beckoned towards Hope, Caution, and Well, \"These three.\" \n\nThe crowd gasped as more started protesting and shouting anger against the murderous contraption they saw before their own eyes. \"They didn't deserve it!\" one shouted. \"This is no longer a game show!\" another screamed. \"Let them go home!\" more yelled as Fault smiled.\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen,\" she started off calmly as the crowd continued to scream at her, \"these people are not who you think they are. Let me show you.\" She said with a smile before gesturing towards a trapdoor opening and a large bulletin board rising with the pictures of three different figures projected onto it. The crowd gasped as the racket silenced into surprise as Fault started reading it out:\n\n\"Celine Hope. Age 17. Accused of murdering 2 of her male classmates in a bar. Pleaded not guilty for saying that she was under the influence of heroin.\" Taking a breath, she started again:\n\n\"Harry Caution. Age 22. Accused of scamming various charities and orphanages for his own ends and selfishness.Never caught or detected. Well, until now.\" She said with a glaring smile before continuing on to the last one:\n\n\"Livy Well. Age 19. Accused of the kidnapping and disappearances of 5 young children she supposedly lured and arson of a small office. Cased dropped due to insufficient evidence.\"\n\nThe crowd stayed in silence and shock at the history of the three contestants as Fault smiled and cackled with vile in her voice, gesturing to the three, \"That's right! These three need to be punished! For the evil deeds they committed throughout their lives without any justice done!\" She laughed and laughed in the silence of the entirety of the studio before she snapped her fingers at a third trapdoor below her.\n\n\"Now ladies and gentlemen!\" She said as she started to rise above the stage. After a few seconds, she was standing on top of a wheel-like structure that's about 35 feet tall. On it were large and small sections and between them, various words were inscribed as Fault smiled and extended both her arms in presentation:\n\n\"And this everyone, is the true Wheel of Destiny!\" She explained as she started to describe the different inscriptions on the wheel:\n\nThe Purification of the Witch\n\nSurfing Chills\n\nNoxygen Challenge\n\nHeads Off!\n\nDigestion Investigation\n\nShooting Arcade Game\n\n\"Wait a minute!\" Caution shouted as he looked at the division of the sections. The witch section was much bigger than everything else while the shooting arcade game was so tiny. \"There is nothing that says redemption for us!\"\n\n\"Of course,\" she said, \"After all, this everyone,\" Fault said with a twisted grin, \"is justice.\"" ]	2
	[WP] Incorporate a happy song lyric into a depressing story	[ "The men came when she was 11. They took her from the street where she had played. Not even three days after her kidnapping, Mr. Fu came to her. She remembered hearing the tick-tacking of measured footsteps on wooden floors, the creak of the door as it swung open, the rustle of clothes as they fell loose. After he was done, she curled up in a ball on the bed. He proclaimed her satisfactory, nuzzling into her ear when he said it, whispering like a snake. Her body was shaking when he folded her into his arms, making soothing noises. Then he began to croon to her in a thin, high voice, \"Don't worry, be happy. In every life we have some trouble. When you worry, you make it double.\" The oppressiveness of the grey room threatened to suffocate her as he rocked her against his sticky body. She willed it to swallow her up, to crush her, to digest her but it never did. She didn't move until she no longer heard the tick-tack of his shoes.", "I'd like to make myself believe that Planet Earth turns slowly. In truth, it never does. In a blink of an eye, what was once a hopeful child with all his grandiose dreams became just another cubicle-stuck page-turner, and every second rots away the body, soul and spirit. \n\nIs this all that dreams are? Fancy steps off a cliff? Why do we set ourselves so high when we know that we eventually fall? These days, it's hard to say I rather stay awake; when I'm asleep, at least I have the solace of knowing that everything is never as it seems.", "\"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know dear just how much I love you. So please don't take my sunshine away.\" \n\nThe old Earth song hung suspended in the air, as yet another sun winked out of existence. We wander again. " ]	3
	[WP] You are the imaginary friend of a little boy you've convinced to pull the pig tails of a girl in his class. You're now with him in the guidance counselor's office as he tries to explain himself	[ "\"Dude, they're simply not going to be live you if you tell them I made you do it; they'll probably have you locked up in a loony bin.\" I whispered to Johnny, \"but you're always telling me to do things that get me in to trouble. I've got to explain myself; may be they'll understand.\"\n Just then the guidance counselor entered the room accompanying little Sally, seating her next to Johnny before making his way to his desk.\n\"Listen,\" he sighed sinking in to his chair \"johnny, we've called your parents; they're on their way in. We cannot allow this behavior to go on anymore, we're going to have to administer a paddling.\" said principal Dick, reaching in to his desk pulling out a spiked paddle.\n \"Dude! Bail! Bail!\" I told Johnny. \"Shut up!\" he shouted in reply. Principal Dick noticably agitated thinking this was directed at him, \"you shut up you little sh--\" catching himself before he could finish \"I'm sorry. Would you repeat what you just said?\" he corrected. \"Oh no! I wasn't talking to you, principal Dick.\" Johnny replied. \"I didn't say anything!\" Sally whined. \" I was talking to my friend who's standing next to me; his name is Jack.\" Dick blinked his one eye astonished, the other he had lost in desert storm, \"there's no one there, Johnny.\". \n\n There was a knock at the office door, it was Johnny's mom. \"Hi Harry. Sorry we keep having to meet under such unpleasant cirucumstances.\" she greeted almost ashamed. \"Maybe if you showed your kid a little more attention at home we wouldn't have to. I think it's time we administered a paddling and you need to be present while we do it.\" he said stroking the handle of the paddle. \"Harry Dick! Did you really think I'd be ok with you beating my son with this... This... Thing?\". \"Dude, your mom's kind of hot. You should Totally touch her butt.\" I poked at Johnny. \"Jack, stop it! I've told you she's my mom, I don't want to poke her butt!\" \"Johnny Van Wettering!\" Johnny ducked his head \"sorry mom...\" \n\"It would seem he's been talking to an imaginary friend, Jack as it would seem.\" the principal explained. \"He's not imaginary!\" Johnny defended. \"Oh no hell!\" Mrs. Van Wettering exclaimed \"beat the crazy out of him, Dick; I've had it with his Tom foolery. Just do it.\"\n\nSo Dick proceeded to beat the everloving Shit out of johnny, Jack wincing mockingly and laughing at johnnys expense.\n It was a long ride home; Johnny not speaking to me. \"Dude, you still mad?\" I asked \"come on it was kinda funny, right?\" \"Johnny? Dude. Dude. DUDE!\" \"what?!\" cried Johnny. \" your mom's kind of hot; You should touch her butt.\"", "This is kind of a cute prompt! Imaginary friends are\n\n----\n\nOh, imaginary friend? That’s very funny. I’m not so imaginary.\n\nAnd I’ve locked eyes with the guidance counselor, my smouldering spirit sliding in and out of his perception, and oh I am just digging his stammering as he tries to lecture little Timmy.\n\nI don’t think so, mister guidance counselor. Timmy is mine to chew out.\n\nDid you know that when a spirit is possessed, it’s only one portion of the spirit that gets pushed aside? Funny then that imaginary friends are a shard of spirit cut away from the whole, given life by their creator. Interesting, huh? Not saying I possessed anything, but a shard like that, especially a weak-willed one, it’s one hell of an obvious doorway.\n\n“It wasn’t me,” little Timmy started.\n\nOh, don’t you dare rat me out, little brat. You don’t want to be alone, do you? Do you?\n\nHe shakes his head no. Of course he does. I’m the one that will stick with you forever. You can count on me.\n\nEspecially as you can watch me kill everything around you with your hands.\n\nOh, don’t worry, that’s not an idle threat.\n\nYou don’t even remember pulling on little miss pigtails’ pigtails, do you? Do you even know why?\n\nYou were asleep of course!\n\nSee this little hands of fire? Much more attractive than your little paws, and even more so now that I can grasp your body with mine.\n\nIsn’t that wonderful? Run along now, Timmy. Run back to class.\n\nHe leaves the room. That’s a good boy.\n\nI flit over to the guidance counselor, who is still absolutely frozen in disbelief. He’s aged. Not so much layers of fat, but his heart has worked hard. Even right now, it’s like a machine, working harder than it’s ever worked before.\n\nSo hard in fact, that it might just burst into flame! And look at me as I drag my finger across your veins. Poetic, from frozen to on fire. Gaze upon the colors of your flaming heart. Oh, how wonderful.\n\nI feel a pang of regret about the man. I never really like to kill living things like that. It was quite the shame he was able to see me, otherwise he wouldn’t have been a problem. Would have he even told anyone, though? Should I have let him live? It does often get lonely, stuck with that demure brat.\n\nI flit through the walls of the building, back to little Timmy’s side. I laugh gleefully. No, that was fun, wasn’t it?\n\nTimmy just wipes the tears off his face and glares at me.\n\n“How about I just die?” he asks me.\n\nOh! You’re finally giving me some conversation! Oh how I have longed for such a moment.\n\n“You haven’t answered my question,” he says, a glazed look to the side.\n\nTruthfully, I wouldn’t care. There’s more people out there that aren’t like you. They actually understand fun. You die, and I just flit to them.\n\nThere’s a scream in the distance, back in the direction of the office. Little Timmy, for some unfathomable reason stops walking! And he turns around! They call me crazy. That’s your cue to ignore the scene, little boy.\n\nI flit to his shoulder and rest an elbow upon it. I inspect one of my claws, cleaning off a bit of ash.\n\nDon’t worry about it. There’s nothing there that you should care about.\n\n“What did you do?” he cries out angrily, shoving me off his shoulder. I hit the walk as he runs back. He doesn’t seem to notice the blood dripping with fire from the hand he shoved me with.\n\nWait a moment, I shouldn’t have hit that wall.\n\nCome back here, Timmy, I snarl to him, but he’s somehow already gone, presumably behind the corner.\n\nSomehow I manage to get my minimal bearings in reality and catch up to the brat. Flit through a wall and land behind him as I massage a pain in my belly that I’ve not felt in eons. The kid doesn’t even acknowledge my arrival. That hurts, even though I should be used to it. Curious to see what’s got him so enamored, I flit up on my tiptoes and hover right behind his shoulder, following his gaze to the ashen remains of what had been at one point the guidance counselor.\n\n“You killed him,” the kid tells me quietly.\n\nWhat’s that? I couldn’t hear you, you were talking way too quietly.\n\n“You killed him!” he cries out.\n\nWhat an interesting sort of day. Normally, the kid rarely bothers to put up a fight.\n\n“Why?” he asks.\n\nI laugh. Oh, why? I don’t really have a reason.\n\n“Why?” he asks.\n\nLet me pull something out thin air for you. You see, I just feel so empty without a spot of fun. The world is boring and empty, and I’m less boring but still so empty. I need to fill it with something, and these little games with you, they’re just fun. The way that man saw his life flash, it was very entertaining, and very fun. Made me nice and full for the time.\n\n“That’s it?”\n\nI stop grandstanding in the air for a moment to look at the poor kid.\n\n“I’m not empty,” he offers.\n\nTimmy looks at me. And he smiles, an expression that just chills me to my core. A terrifying heartfelt smile creeps across his face, and all I can do is scream, all I can feel is terror as my existence slips away, a tiny shard compared to the massive light and\n\n----\n\n“A tiny shard compared to the massive light?” Could that smouldering bastard been any more over dramatic?\n\nMister Wallace, the guidance counselor, he died of a heart attack that day. It’s quite funny, it’s been many years since that day, to where now we are very nearly at the space age, but that day feels clear in my mind. I remember with astounding clarity Mister Wallace’s body, burnt to a fine black ash. Even more vivid, I remember piercing his heart with the tip of my claw, and watching as the colorful and bright flames left from his body.\n\nAs I grew older, I finally managed to accept those memories as the overactive imaginings of a terrified and scarred child. Never again had did I seen such fanciful demons out of a storybook, and the stress of Mister Wallace dying I guessed at the time pushed me to the point where I refused the existence of that over dramatic hell-spawn. As for the initial presence of said smouldering imaginary “friend,” I supposed it to be some sort of repressed feelings made mentally tangible. Of course, all these guesses went against all known literature on the subject, which I ended up pursuing lightly as part of my university studies, but I rationalized it by the point of which there are always exceptions to the rule.\n\nMy extreme form of past tense must eventually bring the realization that I’ve recently come to.\n\nIt was during one of my vacations, and I decided to go out for an early morning walk to the market. It just so happened that my timing was quite identical to the timing of many of the students. At a busy intersection, where myself and a small crowd of students wait for the crosswalk sign to signal safety, I spied a young boy, likely in middle school, begin to nod off near the curb. Cautious, I positioned myself to pull him back if the need were to arise.\n\nWithout warning, it was if he were pushed. I leaped, spun him out of the way, and with my lanky arms saved myself from falling into the traffic before the crowd of children helped me back. I gratefully thanked them as I held the now-unconscious boy off the ground.\n\nSuch an occurrence would not be worth mentioning if not for the being I locked eyes with as I held the young boy up. It was a shadow, formed in matter not unlike the one I recalled so vividly from my youth, but of utterly different material, as this one dripped with sorrowful liquid sapphires. It was but a moment, but my eyes had locked with its glowing orbs of hate. Quickly, it vanished, and I was left unsure and shocked at what I had witnessed, as the boy slowly stirred awake in my arms.\n\nI was already on the track to become a counselor of youths, but once I had gotten over the possibilities that I may be going mad, I rededicated myself to the path I was one. Suddenly, the purpose behind it grew larger, greater.\n\nI work now in a similar position to Mister Wallace. It is not the same place where Mister Wallace met his end. What I fight are not the same evils that he fought. However, I am determined to do what I can, save who I can. More than him, I can keep myself safe - and keep others safe as well.\n\n----\n\nThe young man steps into my office. I immediately put down my work as he sits himself across from me.\n\n“How have you been?” I ask him. I recognize him from years ago, when I pulled him back from the traffic.\n\n“I beg your pardon, sir?”\n\nThrough one of the walls flows a spirit, dripping with sorrowful-looking jewels.\n\n“I remember you from a while back. You were pushed into traffic.” I pause. “I’m good at remembering a face.”\n\n“Oh.”\n\n“What’s your name?”\n\n“Rick.”\n\n“Rick. Well Rick, what brings you here today?”\n\n“Well, I was told - did you say pushed?”\n\n“I did. What were you told?”\n\n“How did you know I was pushed?”\n\nThe sapphire spirit flowing around my office stops, curious to my answer. It settles between the two chairs in front of me, directly opposite me.\n\n“I saw you pushed.” I adjust my glasses as the realization sinks in to the two other parties in the room. I look at the dripping spirit ahead of me.\n\nHe presumes to command me? It hisses.\n\n“I do.” It recoils with either disgust or shock. Rick’s eyes open wide in surprise.\n\n“Leave,” I command it, words dripped with fire. It leaves quickly.\n\nI turn to the young man, Rick. He looks back at me, the expression on his face now hopeful.\n\n“I will not conquer your demons,” I say authoritatively. His shoulders slump slightly. “That is not my job.”\n\nHe nods and turns away dejected. Already, he’s getting up and trying to quickly leave the room.\n\n“However,” I call to him, “If you need help, I will help you.”\n\nHe glances at me.\n\n“I guess...I’ll come back here after class.”\n\nI nod. He leaves with tired smile on his face.\n", "\"Listen, just keep a stiff upper lip in there OK,\" I said to Timmy as we walked into Mr. Petal's room. \n\n\"Timmy, go on and take a seat there,\" Mr. Petal motioned to the blue beanbag chair sitting catercorner to his desk. \n\n\"Yup you just go right ahead and make yourself comfortable there,Timmy ,\" I said \"don't worry about ole' Franky.\" \n\n\"So, I don't think it's any surprise why you're down here in my office, Timmy. Why don't you tell me what happened in your own words.\"\n\n\"Alright, now you need to be careful here. He's looking for you to admit guilt right away, and that is the LAST thing you want to do in this situation.\" I was standing next to Timmy at that point and giving him a shoulder massage to loosen him up.\n\n\"Well, Mr. Petal, \" said Timmy, \"I was sitting in my seat, minding my own business when Suzy Johnson turned around and told me I looked like a toad.\" \n\n\"She said you looked like a toad?\" Mr. Petal questioned and scribbled away into his burgundy day planner. \n\n\"Yup, she said I looked like a toad and that I should just go ahead and croak already.\"\n\nGood, good,\" I said. \"He looks concerned. Keep selling him on this croaking idea.\"\n\n\"Even though that kind of hurt my feelings, I kept doing my work, but wouldn't you know it Suzy turned around again and kept going CROAK CROAK CROAK over and over. It really sounded like she had a frog stuck in her throat or something.\"\n\n\"You're killing it, Timmy boy. Mr. Petal is eating this up.\" \n\n\"Well that is very strange, Timmy. I've never heard of Suzy Johnson carrying on like that in the classroom. Have you had problems with her before?\" \n\nTimmy looked down at his feet, and I could tell he was about to blow it. He always backed out just before he could get away with something. I know Mr. Petal couldn't hear me, but I got down and whispered in Timmy's ear, mainly for the effect. \"You have to turn the faucet on here, baby. Let those tears stream down and tell him how horrible little Suzy Johnson is to you. You'll be out of here in no time.\" \n\n\"Yes, Mr. Petal.\" Timmy's voice was shaking and I could see his eyes were welling up. What a champ! \"Suzy always calls me names, and every time she turns around she likes to stick her tongue out at me and pull the bottom of her eyelids down. I don't know what I ever did to her.\" \n\n\"Gold Timmy, pure gold. That eyelid bit, genius. Let's wrap this up and get on with it.\" \n\n\"OK OK bud, it's alright, no need to cry. I think I have a pretty good understanding of what happened today.\" Mr. Petal was out of his seat and kneeling down in front of Timmy.\n\n\"You mean I'm not in any trouble?\" Timmy asked. He was still sobbing and had a nice line of green and yellow snot running from his nose. \n\n\"No, of course not. I'll have a talk today with Suzy and her mom and we'll get this whole thing straightened out.\"\n\nMr. Petal wrote up a hall pass and sent Timmy on his way. I got up to follow, but couldn't make it through the door. I was shaking on the handle and the sucker just wouldn't budge.\n\n\"Alright Franky,\" Mr. Petal said. \"I think it's time we put you back into the lonely cellar.\"\n\n\"NO!\" I shouted, but it was no use. Mr. Petal had gotten to know me over the years, and once he suspected I was there, there was no hiding. He grabbed a hold of me and threw me back down with all the other imaginary kids. It would be at least a year before I would have a chance to escape again. \"Stupid lonely cellar...\"\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] While spelunking you come across a man, impossibly ancient, with clothing that is a cohesive mish-mash of old, contemporary, and staggeringly futuristic. Before you can ask he says "No, I am not a time traveller".	[ "\"I, uh, didn't ask?\" \n \nThe strange man laughed, \"That you didn't lad!\" He beamed, \"Ha! They usually do, ya know.\" \n \nThey? This strange man, well he is a man, at least I think he is a man. It's hard to really know what he is. The cave is quite dark, yet, he seems to be, I guess brighter would be the word. Long strands of platinum white hair dropped below his waist, while his skin seemed harsh and great, almost -- stone-like.\n \nThe cave dweller was still speaking, While his appearance suggested advanced age, his demeanor suggested quite the opposite. \"...there as the last one, you do! And that's good! I'd give my left you-know-what to be able to see that look on his face again, don't you? Ha-ha!\" \n \nHe was addressing me. I hesitated, \"I..uh..yes? Wait -- sorry?\" \n \nI had no idea what he was talking about. \n \n\"You lot never listen to anything, do you? Ha!\" the stranger replied, \"Always thinking too much! Though, we know your not relay thinking at all, are ya!\" \n \nWhy was he so jovial? \n \n\"I'm sorry, who are you?\" I asked. It was a strange thing after all. \n \n\"Ha! I only just told ya! Or were you not listening again? Ha!\" \n \nI was, though it seemed futile to challenge him on this fact. Besides, getting some answers seems to be a bit more of a priority at the moment.\n \nI started again, \"Yes! But what are you doing here?\" This place isn't known by many others, and as far as I know, we are the first to...\n \n\"The film crew!\", I let out in alarm, Amy crew had gone ahead to set the lighting for the upcoming shots, but that was hours ago. I had only started looking before coming across what will likely prove to be the most unusual encounter in my life. But wait, he mentioned they!\n \n\"Have you seen them?\", I asked, \"They should have come this way...\" \n \n\"Oh, they're probably fine! Ha! I wouldn't get my knickers all in a bunch!\" \n \n\"So you've seen them? They were alright?\" I asked, tensely. \n \n\"Yes, Yes! They are absolutely fine! Ha!\" The stranger answered with a wave of his hand, \"But, I would think it was you who should be looking after! Ha!\" \n \n\"Me?\", I was confused, \"Why do you say that?\" \n \n\"Oh, you haven't heard?\" The stranger replied. The was no laughter in his tone this time, \"Well, that complicates thing a bit then doesn't it.\" \n \nHis expression fell a bit with that statement. The ancient lines in his skin became more pronounced as he turned his head.\n \nMy confusion was quickly turning to concern. What haven't I heard? Any why does it complicate things? That are the things, anyway? What was he talking about? Who is this man!? I had so many questions, I really didn't know where to start. And why did his tone suddenly change? \n \nThe stranger turned toward the crawl space leading to this cavern. You began to walk toward it. \n \n\"Wait!\" I shouted, \"I have questions for you! You can't just go and say things like that and just leave! Offering no explanation!\" \n \nThe stranger stopped, He turned back toward me and smiled, \"Alright lad, you should follow me.\" \n \nI followed him through the tight crawl space back toward our basecamp. He seemed to glide through the tight passage without much effort. I took me several minutes to work my way through. \n \nThe trek back was held in silence. The obvious questions like Why was he taking me back? and Why doesn't he answer obvious questions very directly floated through my head, but this man doesn't seem to be the type to answer any of them. \n \nIt wasn't long before we came up on our basecamp. It wasn't anything fancy, just a few popup shelters and a cooking stove along with various spelunking gear and film equipment. In other words, exactly how I left it.\n \nThe stranger continued to walk directly into the camp, stopping once inside the perimeter. \n \n\"Well, aren't you coming, then?\" He beckoned, turning back toward me. \n \n\"Why did you bring me back here? What's the point of this?\" I demanded. I was getting a bit annoyed with the whole situation. Returning here seemed to be a huge waste of time, so I was determined to at least get a few answers. \n \n\"What? You mean you don't see?\" The stranger was looking amused again. \n \n\"See what!?\", I replied, somewhat impatiently, \"Everything looks exactly as it was when I left here not even a few hours ago!\" \n \n\"Oh does it now! Are you sure? You mean to say it's exactly as you left it?\", his amusement was rising again, \"You sure you don't want to try again? Only this time don't look -- see!\" \n \n\"I..\" I stopped. What did he mean by that? \n \n\"Yes, lad, yes! See!\" \n \nSee, huh? Okay. I see my sleeping bag. I see my gear. I see my crew's belongings. What am I not seeing? \n \nI took in the scene again: Bags, gear, and film equipment. Bags, gear, and film equipment. What was I missing. Then it hit me. \n \n\"Where's the food?\" \n \nThe stranger clapped. \"Very good lad! Very good indeed!\" He jumped in joy. \n \nNow things were truly becoming insane. What happened to all our food? There's no one else here, excluding my mysterious guest, and there's no way he could have snuck past me when I left before. There was food then! Wasn't there? \n \nActually, come to think of it, I don't remember one way or the other. In fact, I cannot remember the last time I had food at all! But surely I must be mistaken. The dark caves can muddle up your memories, right? \n \nThe stranger was now grinning widely, arms folded across his chest, \"So you figure it out then?\" he asked. \n \nI looked back at him, inquisitively. What does ne want me to figure out... \n \n\"So, not yet then? Do I have to do everything? Alright then!\" \n \nHe turned toward the rear cave wall and began moving toward it's direction. I followed. He stopped in front of the large tunnel off the left center.\n \n\"Down this way is the water spring. Are you trying to tell me there something there?\" I asked. \n \nThe stranger did not reply, He simply turned and began to walk down the tunnel toward the spring. \n \nAfter a few minutes, we arrived. The spring was small, but very deep. Even through the crystal clear water and with the powerful lights my crew had set up, the bottom was too far to be seen. Everything looked the same here, though admittedly there wasn't much to compare it too anyway. \n \nThe stranger motioned toward the spring. I peered down into it. It was no use. \n \n\"Look, the spring is too deep to see very much --\" \n \nThe stranger cut me off. \"No! Don't look, see!\" \n \nI shrugged my shoulders. See, don't look. Okay. \n \nI cleared my thoughts, took a deep breath, and looked once again into the glistening waters. It was interesting, I can say. I had never noticed the beautiful crystal formations and the nice, concentric rings lining the banks of the pool. \n \nBut I still didn't see anything worth mentioning. \n \nI decided to admit defeat. \" I'm sorry, but I do not --\" \n \nBlurp. \n \nWhat was that? A noise came emanating from the spring. I quickly turned to look. The normally still surface showed the telltale signs of waves. \n \n\"Is there something in there? Is this what me to see?\" I asked of the stranger. \n \nHe nodded, \n \nBlurp* \n \nThere is was again. This time I saw it. I single air bubble popping onto the surface of the pool. But it was what followed that dropped me to ground in horror. There floating in the cool waters, slowly rising to the top, was a body. A body, that wore my face. \n \n\"What..what the hell!? What is this!? What are you!\" I screamed as I spun back around to face this Angel of Death. My words echoed in the silence, as the stranger was nowhere to be seen.", "\"Look, fellow twenty-first century Earthman, I was just trying to find Comic-Con, okay? I got lost! Is it so difficult to specify what altitude the con is at?\"\n\n\"What do you mean by fellow twe - ?\"\n\n\"And then I get people constantly asking me if I'm a time traveler, or an alien, or something. Dog no. I mean, even if I was, would I tell you? Of course not. Not that I'm an alien traveler, so that fact is really irrelevant.\"\n\n\"Do you need help?\"\n\n\"Are you going to insist on asking if I'm a time traveler again?\"\n\n\"But... I didn't.\"\n\n\"Oh, yeah, that hasn't happened yet. Yeah, sure, I'd like help.\"" ]	2
	[WP]A lonely person summons Satan (or any other demon) just for someone to talk to for a while.	[ "Crowley grunted as he looked around and saw the figure before him, \"What now Moose? I was right in the middle of making a deal with some poor sod who wanted his dream girl to love him.\"\n\n\"I... I was just wondering how you've been, or if you've heard from Dean lately. He hasn't answered any of my calls for weeks.\" Sam responded, pulling up another chair for Crowley.\n\n---that's about all I got. I just thought it'd be funny if it was from Supernatural.", "I drew an upside-down cross on the Sunday school Bible, lined up the lighted candles and recited the familiar phrase, as mechanically as one would dial a number. I pricked myself with a pin for the virgin blood the ritual required. Tentacles of flame erupted from the circle, engulfing the room. They soon dissipated, revealing Satan himself. \"Oh, it's you again.\" he said disdainfully.\"I just want somebody to talk to tonight.\" Satan sported a half-smile in response. \"Even me? I'm the Prince of Darkness, not a therapist.\" He produced a phone and flung it at me. \"No. Talk to someone. Someone real.\" He vanished, leaving my broken figure to ponder when I had begun this downward spiral.", "PATHETIC MORTAL! WHO DARES SUMMON AND AWAKEN THE GREATEST OF ALL DEMON LORDS, THE NINE HEADED SERPENT THAT IS SATAN!\n\nStanding before our protagonist, as it were, ladies and gentlemen, was an incredibly imposing figure. Scarlet skin, crackling with heat and boiling with diseased sores, covered the immense chest and arms of this being. Standing easily over nine feet tall, it dwarfed the summoner, who barely reach the knee of the demon's backwards goat-like legs. A thick, undulating tail flicked back and forth, the viper head on the tip attempting to bite passerby. And on a thick neck sat nine heads, speaking all at once, all faces grotesquely deformed and monstrous.\n\nBefore this titan of monumental evil, figurehead of terror for a majority of the world's religions, stood a little girl. Her blonde hair in pigtails, her green eyes sparkling in untold happiness. Her toothy smile (well, for the most part, having recently lost two baby teeth) breaking into laughter.\n\n\"Mr. Thatan,\" the little child exclaimed. \"It'th you! I've alwayth wanted an imaginary friend. My babythitter'th advithe really worked!\"\n\nSatan looked around with his demonic sight, and saw clearly that he was incorporeal, invisible to all but his summoner.\n\nLITTLE CHILD, IF WE WERE GOING TO MAKE THIS A LASTING FRIENDSHIP, WE'LL NEED TO FORM A CONTRACT." ]	3
	[WP] If you could speak with your "muse" or your "inspiration" as personified figure or person, what would he or she say to you?	[ "Oh but i did speak to my muse\n\nUnder the moon black and bruised\n\ntoo soon did they step away \n\nfrom my frame of mind\n\nIn due time\n\nour chat changed \n\nTo a strange topic\n\n\"Honest are you a prophet\" \n\nI say to the figurine\n\n\"Not literally\" \n\n\"but you know what i mean \"\n\nWhat path do you mark for my art\n\n\"self reflection\"\n\nWhispered back the soliloquy \n\nwhy do i try to change my \n\nWay of life \n\nWhy not take my own advice\n\nand fall asleep and thank my self for being there\n\n ", "My muse is usually silent, choosing to lurk in the corner of my eye or around the bend. He watches me from the bottom of the stairs as I climb up to bed. Even when I hide under my sheets, I can feel his gaze through the covers. Often, I wish I could ditch him, but the stupid thing picked me as his voice when I was just a kid and I've been stuck with it ever since. Despite growing up together and being nearly inseparable partners, we rarely get along; some people may struggle to find their muse at times, but I can't even get a break from mine. And believe me, I'd do anything for a break.\n\nWhen I'm having a hard, or a good time, my muse is there, that big smile tearing across his face, and I'm immediately burdened with some new idea. Like a song that gets stuck in your head, my muse's thoughts conquer all of mine until I can put those ideas to use. \n\nAt first, it was hard to figure out what to do with all those thoughts, and I was left overwhelmed. In what medium do I release these concepts? My muse demanded blood, but that started to get problematic pretty quickly. I tried drawing for him, but that only angered him more. Apparently I couldn't portray what he wanted in a way that suited him. In short, he hates my drawings. \n\nEventually, we compromised with writing. He wasn't happy with our arrangement at first, but lately it almost seems like he enjoys my writing, and over all, I feel like my skills have improved. We'll stay up all night to get his ideas on paper (or, more often, on screen) before he finally falls asleep and I can finally rest. \n\nIf I dare try to ignore my muse, he gets angry. If I won't give him words, he will go for blood. Hell, he's attacked me before (in broad daylight, too!), and I know he will again. But I don't think he'd actually kill me. After all, who else will speak for him? I know I may share my muse with others, but... well, let's be honest; he's intimidating. Most others jump to kill him when he appears to them, and some even succeed with keeping him away, for the most part.\n\nI, unfortunately, don't have the resources to keep him at bay, so I'm stuck keeping him happy. He messes with all aspects of my life, but hey, he does what it should as a muse. I've not shared a lot of what he's shared with me, as much as I want to. Those things are... intimate. Like a secret between my muse and myself. He doesn't expect me to publish anything, or get any prizes. Actually, he prefers I don't. I think he's nervous about the way I take his ideas and twist them around, like others will read and not understand what he meant. Really, he just wants me to listen.\n\nIt only takes a look from my muse to know what he is thinking, so we usually have no need for words. The only time he really speaks is when I try to share our secrets. \n\n\"That's no good, don't bother sharing.\"\n\n\"People are going to hate this. Can't we just keep this between ourselves?\"\n\nI usually listen, but every now and then I can't help but to share what I've created. Sure, he may protest, but don't I have the right, what with all the work I do? ", "\"What the fuck is wrong with you. Seriously, I give you perfectly good ideas and you just shit them away on memes and stupid jokes.\"\n\n\"Even this prompt, which you could probably take seriously, could be a moment of introspection into yourself as a writer and a person. But you're an asshole.\"\n\nI look over at the large fat man sitting next to me, he looks a lot like Dom Deluise, and reply.\n\n\"Meh\" " ]	3
	[WP] Humans of Earth: We are the Sentient Species Rights Corp. Your abuses and bungling genetic manipulation of the slave race "Canidae" are at an end. You have 48 hours to release all captive Canids in to our protection. Or else.	[ "Two hours earlier, the small blue rock one unit from the Sun had received a different broadcast, at a slightly different frequency:\n\n\"Felines of Earth: We are the Sentient Species Rights Corp. Your abuses and facile manipulation of the slave-race Homo sapiens sapiens are at an end. You have 48 hours to release all captive hominids from your control into our protection. Or else.\"\n\nUnlike the hominids, however, the felines were delighted. The prospect of a protracted foray-game against an ill-equipped opponent was exactly why they'd been resting their considerable resources for 4/5 of every solar day. \n\nEngage transmission capabilities, the technology chaser of the Advance Warmsun Engagement Group thought to his considerable communications array. Then begin transmission. Fabricate Send-from: Unnamed Interplanetary Ship, Main Array, with coordinates in terrestrial orbit.\n\n\"Humans of Earth: We are the Sentient Species Rights Corp. Your abuses and bungling genetic manipulation of the slave race Canidae are at an end....\"", "Mere hours after the announcement, the world was in uproar. Earth's first contact by an extraterrestrial entity, a moment forever etched into the annals of history, and it was in the form of a stern reprimand: literally, release the hounds.\n\nDog-owners everywhere cried out in protest, while most scientists were much more concerned with the fact this was an advanced, alien race communicating with us. They struggled to respond back, but there was no answer from the darkness of space. The ISS reported no visual, though some of their more sensitive detectors were acting strange.\n\nSeveral religious figures claimed this was God speaking to us and riots started worldwide, claiming the end of times. Certain people posted \"pictures\" of the aliens online, though refused to share how they obtained the images. They only urged their audience to repent and kneel before the real Gods of our universe. \n\nPolitical figures rushed to emergency meetings to discuss this incredible development. How to respond to such a request? Nay, demand. And that itself was an issue; should we disobey out of principle, to show that we humans cannot be simply ordered around?\n\nBut what about the \"or else?\"\n\nIt's a bluff. It's a grave threat. The leaders of almost 200 countries argued, swinging between the two sides. It was a nerve-wracking debate that lasted several hours - after all, the stakes were so very high.\n\nAt last, with only a few hours left on the clock, a decision was made. But just as it was about to be carried out, a new development came out, one even more astonishing than the first:\n\nHumans of Earth! This is the Interstellar Peacekeeping Force reporting. Recently, a group claiming to be a 'Sentient Species Rights Corp' has made contact and demands. Do not listen to them; in reality, they are wanted criminals, posing as a philanthropic organization. Repeat, do not release any captive Canidae. Failure to follow through with our request will be met with immediate action.\n\n\n____________________________________________________________________________\n\n\n\nLiked that? More stories [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!" ]	2
	[WP] You’re sitting in the interview chair, in front of Santa Claus: The man who you are applying to be an impersonator of, at a local shopping mall.	[ "-Har-har-har \n-Um try again. Like this! Ho-ho-ho! \n-Horb! Horb! Horb! \n-Hmm-hmm-hmm... Once more; Ho-ho-ho! \n-Harb! Hayerb! Hoooyarf! \n-That's a little better. You know I need someone over in our Little Tokyo district, and just between you & me, I don't really give a shit about the Japs, so the job is yours. \n-Woah! Woah! Woah! \n-Hey! Not bad. Just slap an H on that puppy! Ho! Ho! Ho! \n-...Ho! Ho! Ho! \n-Ho ho hooray! You got it now! \n-...wow. You really freaked me out there for a second Claus-man. But wow, I guess it worked. \n-That's great, but really, fuck the Japs.\n-(in unison) Ho! Ho! Ho!\n\n", "\"So-ho-ho, tell me about yourself!\" Santa's voice was booming.\n\n\"Well, I...\" Luke blanked on a response as his mind tried to process the fact that he was being interviewed by Santa Claus. What kind of HR did this mall have?\n\n\"Don't be nervous! Think of me as your jolly grandpa!\"\n\nHis words did little to stop the flow of what the hell in Luke's mind, but the latter managed to continue. \"My name is Luke Mason, and I'm a customer service representative at Best Buy on 23rd Street.\"\n\n\"Hmm, hmm!\" Santa nodded vigorously, his beard bobbing against his chest. \"That's a good name!\" he chortled. The stout old man pulled a clipboard out of the inside of his thick red coat, and put on a pair of glasses. \"I have to follow a checklist, you know. At least it's not as long as the list of naughty children! HO-HO-HO!\"\n\nLuke nodded, feeling more awkward by the second.\n\n\"So-ho-ho, why do you want this job, Luke?\"\n\nLuke stuttered out his planned reply. \"Um, I want to help children feel the happ - the uh, great - the joy of the holiday.\"\n\n\"Hmm, hmm! Good answer!\" Santa said, tilting his head forward with a twinkle in his eye. \"What are your strengths?\"\n\n\"Uh, er, hm. I like kids. I think they're neat.\" The man felt his face flush with the feeling of having said something foolish. \"And, well... I think I have the right body type,\" he added, pointing to his not small gut with a bashful, self-deprecating smile.\n\n\"HO-HO-HO! I think you'll do just great!\" Santa fished a pocket watch out of his coat. \"Oh, look at the time! I have to go - toys to be made! Elves to instruct! Reindeer to ready!\" \n\nLuke sank down in his chair, smothering a sigh of relief.\n\n\"But one last question!\"\n\nLuke bolted up. \"Yes, Santa?\" he barked.\n\n\"Have you got any questions?\"\n\nWhat are you doing here? Why? How? Really? Luke thought, but mumbled a \"no\".\n\n\"Well! It was nice meeting you, Luke! You'll make a fine Santa, I'm sure of it! After all,\" Santa laughed with a wink, \"You've never once been on my naughty list! HO-HO-HO!\" With that, the old man stood, shook Luke's hand, and tottered out the door." ]	2
	[WP] That last thing you bought at the store. It is enchanted!	[ "I've been reading a lot about satire stories, so I'm trying it out. Please forgive my awful writing skills.\n\n\n\"Holy motherfucking shit!\" I say. My new computer case is... Morphing?\nIt's growing, changing. It absorbs my laptop. Then my monitor. My keyboard and mouse. After a few seconds, every piece of my rig is consumed. It stops growing. In its place, a shapeless blob plastered with \"dank\" memes, EA, Microsoft, Sony, Doritos and Mountain Dew logos.\n\nI weep. My $25,000 monster rig, gone. In its place, a peasant shrine. My tears attract the attention of someone. Someone powerful, someone godlike.\n\nSuddenly, it glows. Gabe Newell take its place.\n\n\"My child...\" he begins.\n\"My child, you have obtained a cursed object. It has taken much from you. I cannot let a follower of mine suffer like this. Make a wish, any wish. It will be granted.\"\n\nI think for a minute. I open my mouth. \"I wish, I wish that PC gaming was amazing enough to exasperate even the bitchiest of scrubs.\"\n\nHe smiles. \"It shall be done.\"\n\nI wake up in my bed. Was it all a dream? I walk over to where my rig should be. Instead of a shapeless blob, my rig is there! I log on and open Chrome. I open up the news. In the headlines, there are six items.\n\n\"Congress rejects CISA, passes net neutrality laws\"\n\n\"EA buys IGN, Xbox, Playstation. Recalls every console. Subsequently goes out of business\"\n\n\"All games will be polished, optimized says [plothole!] spokesperson\"\n\n\"Drivers will be bug-free says [plotarmor alert!] spokesperson.\"\n\n\"144 Hz, OLED, 4K, Freesync& G-sync, 1 ms monitors announced\"\n\n\nThese are massive victories for gamers everywhere. But dwarfed by one, massive headline that will change the fate of the human race forever.\n\n#\"Half-Life 3 confirmed\"" ]	1
	[WP] Edison died in his teens and Tesla has invented modern day electricity and mainstreamed the Tesla Coil into modern domestic use. Write an alternate history or timeline using this historical cornerstone change.	[ "1937:\n\nThe Nazi party are humiliated at the polls, following the decision of the US to fire the Wardenclyffe weapon in the wake of the opening of Auschwitz. Hitler mysteriously diappears.\n\n1939:\n\nTesla is removed from the CEO position of NiTe Corp, in the wake of allegations of insanity following the death of four assistants within three months.\n\n1942:\n\nRussia declares war on the US and Western Europe in the disatrous campaign, led by the Communist Russia.\n\n1943:\n\nNikola Tesla dies. He is found in a pool of his own blood and feces, disemboweled, with the plans for his upcoming battery storage mechanism that can hold 1.4 megawatt-hours.\n\n1944:\n\nThe Wardenclyffe weapon fails catastrophically, making half of North America uninhabitable due to ionization of the atmosphere.", "From Treaties on the Advent of the Earth Federation and Martian Sovereignty\n\nWhile we all know the name of Nikola Tesla, a name you may not be as familiar with is George Westinghouse - the businessmen and inventor who brought Tesla's work to the main stream. \n\nWestinghouse famously called Tesla \"The goose that can be coaxed out of golden eggs, with proper pamper and care.\" when pitching his Menlo park research campus to J.P. Morgan. This of course supports the popular belief that Tesla was remarkably eccentric, and required constant supervision to keep him on track.\n\nDuring the famous Transmission Wars of 1885, Westinghouse as CEO of the Tesla Power and Electric Company Was able to beat out the Thomson-Houston Power company for lucrative contracts by demonstrating reliable wireless transmission over many miles with little or no loss. This meant considerably less infrastructure to build unlike the competitor's wired transmission.\n\nAble to buy back majority share from J.P. Morgan prior to the signing of contracts Westinghouse was able to effectively maintain control, and intellectual freedom, for Tesla. Had Nikola had less scrupulous friends in his earlier years, we may not have the systems that we take for granted today. \n\nFollowing the Great War in 1921 the Tesla Power and Electric Company, set the stage for a new world with the advent of their Multi-Phase Triod. This allowed for smaller computers that could perform thousands of operations per second, as well as have programmable logic through entangled frequencies. Suddenly circuits could be made smaller and smaller. \n\nUsing a series of multi-phase triods, H. L. Hazen built the first Capacitance Calculator in 1926 at MIT. This machine would completely revolutionize the world, as it allowed for billions of calculations and complex programmable algorithms. Mathematician Niels Bohr correctly predicted this to be a quantum mechanical effect, allowing for the phase state algorithms.\n\nTuring, a British mathematician and computer programmer, created artificial intelligence in 1934, that would go in to become the cornerstone of modern computing. \n\nYet, following the Great European War in 1941, it was the Russian Empire, with aid of a German Engineer, Von Braun, that set the stage for the next step in civilization: The Russian Moon Colony." ]	2
Edit: Keep 'em coming, yo guys. I'll read them on my way home.	[WP] "End your life, and you shall be given the ability to change one thing that you think is wrong in the world." You agreed.	[ "It was a great stone edifice upon a barren hill...in a sense.\n\n\"Since time unreckoned...\" it spoke. It was a traveling whisper building to a crescendo. It was crashing thunder and boiling water. It was all these things and more.\n\nThe edifice cracked.\n\n\"I have planned...and schemed...to save my children...\"\n\nI became aware, slowly, of a terrible wind. It bit deep, like a hungry dog. It blew against my bones and crawled along my soul, and I felt it an effort even to stand, so I knelt.\n\n\"All that wasted...with one wish...\"\n\nThere was a steadily increasing hum, like a tuning fork. The land itself twisted and rumbled and shook. The edifice crumbled and broke, collapsing to the ground in sheets of stone and plumes of dust.\n\n\"You will end here too...it is a consequence.\"\n\nI nodded, remembering what I had done. Perhaps I had not thought it through, or perhaps I had. In any case, it was too late to regret my choice.\n\n\"Thank...you...\"\n\nAnd all was dark, and I felt myself breaking apart, and it hurt. Yet I smiled.\n\nLet all men be freed from the skeins of fate.", "The wind on the rooftop buffeted my hair and coat. I looked out over the city - or what I could see of it from 15 stories. A permanent grey-brown fog settled over the tallest skyscrapers and from this rooftop it was close enough to see and taste. The ever present scent of garbage and exhaust was sickening even at this height. Fighting the wind I made my way to the edge. I looked down and I could see my target - Jeff's brand new Lexus parked at the curb. The trunk was open where he was stacking boxes of his things and traitorous Alex waited nearby staring at his phone. Briefly I wondered if some of me might get on him when I landed and the thought of staining her faux fur vest with my very real blood made me ghoulishly happy.\n\nI sat down on the edge of the building and let my feet dangle a bit into the rain gutter. I fished a clove cigarette out of my pocket so the ritual would now begin. I inhaled thick fragrant smoke and for a moment the back of my throat burned. It had been a while since I last performed this particular ritual. I took a sip from my Starbucks to soothe my throat and squinted into the distance. \n\nI mulled over my failure of a life - failed school, failed relationship, failed actor, writer, failed waiter ....fail, fail, fail. The word was stamped in bright red letters across my life. The faces of my parents briefly passed in my thoughts. Two smiling middle aged people, still in love after 40 years of marriage. Certainly they would be sad at my death, but they had my sister and her kids. I wondered briefly if they would even tell the rest of the family how I died or why?\n\nMovement to my left startled me. A man in a leather jacket and jeans held his hands up to show he meant no harm. I turned away from him very angry my pre-suicide ritual had been interrupted. \n\n\"Hello.\" he said. It wasn't a question and it wasn't a welcome. His hello was a firm statement. 'Hello. This is me and we are here.' it said in the authoritative baritone of a news anchorman. \n\n\"Hello\" I replied and considered changing my plan to the other side of the building but I didn't want to land in the trash. I wanted to land on Jeff's car. That was the poetry of it, after all. He didn't get the car without my help. But when his star finally began to rise and shine, he hadn't repaid my support. He had thrown it back in my face and he and that cunt, Alex moved uptown to an apartment that should have been mine and Jeff's together. \n\n\"I know what you are thinking,\" he said. My initial fear that he was a police negotiator seemed to be realized.\n\n\"Oh, do you?\" I didn't look at him. That's when they get you. When you make eye contact. \n\n\"Mhm, and if I may make a suggestion?\" \n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"What if I were to make you an offer...?\" I cut him off before he could finish. \n\n\"Look, this is my thing, okay? I appreciate you have to be here because someone called you, but really. We both know this is a cry for help and I'm probably not really going to jump.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm hoping you jump. I just want to give you a reason to jump. One last chance to make your life mean something.\"\n\nNow I had to look at him. What was this new negotiator tactic? \"Hoping, I jump? Really, officer. Reverse psychology? Are you new?\"\n\nHe chuckled. \"I'm not new. As a matter of fact, I'm very old, but I have a proposition for you if you'll hear me out.\"\n\nI leaned back against the brick balustrade and looked at him full on for the first time. He was a good looking man. Not ruggedly or classically handsome, but attractive in an approachable sort of way. His hair was short and curled against peach hued skin. His eyes were a sort of deep, grey-blue that was almost violet. Like Elizabeth Taylor's eyes. His lips were raised slightly on one side in a sort of permanent half-smile. When he did smile, deep dimples creased his cheeks and for a second I wanted to kiss him. He bore my rude stare and then began to speak. \n\n\"I am an angel of sorts. I visit people like you. People who choose to end their life and I give them options.\"\n\nOh, a Christian. Jesus they are even worse than a cop. \"And what option would that be, Reverend?\" I lit another cigarette - a plain, non clove cigarette and tried to blow the smoke in his face.\n\n\"I'm not a preacher. I'm not here to save your soul, I'm offering an exchange.\"\n\n\"Look, Mister. This is all very nice of you, but I really don't need your god loves me bullshit, right now. I have a plan and I intend to carry it out.\"\n\n\"No, no. You misunderstand me. I'm counting on you going off this roof. Just hear me out.\"\n\n\"Whatever.\" I waved him on to continue.\n\n\"It's simple really. End your life and you shall be given the ability to change one thing that you think is wrong in the world. Just name it. World hunger, world peace, the price of cigarettes. Anything you consider cruel or unjust will be changed in exchange for your taking one small step off the side of this building.\"\n\n\"Alright, I'll play along. I choose world peace. Now, let's look and see if it happened, shall we?\" I flicked my thumb across my iphone and selected my CNN app. \"Look here. World still at war. Guess it doesn't work.\" Angry now, I flicked my cigarette butt off the side of the building. \n\n\"That's not how it works, Anthony.\" Those dark blue eyes glittered slightly. \"You have to jump and die and then the world will be at peace. No more wars. No more killing for money or power or love. No more imaginary lines defining the identity of one nation from another. Literally,' nothing to kill or die for. A brotherhood of man' I believe that's the way Mr. Lennon worded it.\"\n\n\"You're telling me if I kill myself, the entire world will stop killing each other?\"\n\n\"That's what I'm saying.\"\n\n\"How will I know? I'll be dead.\"\n\n\"Oh, you'll know. Despite your atheistic bend, which we both know is a put on to make yourself more interesting, there is an afterlife. A very rich and active after life, in fact. We watch the progress of the living very carefully from there.\"\n\n\"Oh, do you?\" I didn't want to believe him. I mean the atheist thing he might have guessed. I never told him my name, but anyone who had seen me up here might have told him who I was.\n\n\"We do indeed. That's why I'm here. We've had our eye on you, Anthony. Since your little fling in college with Professor Maywood.\" He ticked my wrong doings off on his fingers. \"Your incestuous experiments with your cousin, Robert. Your love affair with liquor, methamphetamine and with heroin. I know right now you are wearing silk boxers Jeff got you for Christmas last year and you have a Prince Albert piercing healed over after it got infected because couldn't wait to try it out.\"\n\nAgape? Aghast? Whatever the word, my jaw dropped with it. Dear god, this was like \"It's a Wonderful Life.\" I blinked. \"So...I'll know. I'll get to see the world at peace, for how long?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Forever. If that is your wish. It can be as long as forever, as short as a minute.\"\n\nWorld peace forever. No more Taliban cutting people's heads off. No more bombing runs over the Middle East and the Ukraine. No more violent crime. Impossible! I shook my head. \n\n\"Fine. I'll jump.\"\n\nHe clapped his hands together. \"Wonderful!\" \n\n\"But I want everyone to know it was me.\"\n\nHis smile and those gorgeous dimples vanished. I stood and gestured with my lit cigarette. \"You heard me. I want the world to know it was me. Anthony Ashley Lindstrom, who brought about a millennium of world peace with this valiant sacrifice.\" Suck it, Jeff. How great did your recurring role on Chicago Fire look now compared to my bringing about global peace and unity?\n\n", "\"You get one choice, and one choice only,\" the Trader explained gravely. \"Once you've decided, there's no going back. Do you understand?\"\n\nThe young woman nodded. \"I do, and I've already made my decision.\"\n\nThe Trader raised his eyebrows. \"Swift indeed. What do you wish to change in the world?\"\n\n\"I wish for world peace.\"\n\nThe Trader cupped a hand next to his ear. \"What was that, young lady?\"\n\n\"I wish for world peace.\"\n\n\"Eh?!\"\n\n\"World peace!\" She practically shouted. \"I wish for world peace.\"\n\nThe Trader cocked his head, puzzled. \"An... odd choice, but if that is your desire...\"\n\n\"It is.\"\n\nThe young woman was resolute, he could see. She was certainly courageous in the face of death. \"I see,\" the Trader said. \"Very well.\" He snapped his fingers, and the young woman vanished into drifting smoke that swiftly dissipated into the cool night air. \"World peas...\" the Trader mused. He shrugged. \"We'll see how it turns out.\"\n\nThe next day, as he often did after making a trade, he stopped in at a tavern that had a television over the bar to observe the effects of the change that the young woman had sacrificed herself for. Although he was in the city, on the way there he saw dozens of pea plants that had pushed their way up between cracks in the sidewalk and pavement. He stepped into the bar and sat down. \"Excuse me,\" he asked the young man behind the bar. \"Would you mind turning that up?\"\n\n\"Sure thing, boss.\" The bartender cranked up the volume on the television, and the news broadcast became audible. \"Actually, I sort of want to listen to this myself. This is some wild stuff.\n\n\"Mm.\" The Trader listened closely to the broadcast.\n\n\"...around the world are stunned, from botanists to climatologists to ordinary citizens,\" the news anchor said. \"Across the globe, pea plants have sprouted everywhere. Even in desert climates where little or nothing is able to grow, the plants have appeared overnight in prodigious numbers.\"\n\nThe camera cut to footage of a family in a desert area, wearing turbans and shawls. The oldest man in the family speaks excitedly in Farsi before his voice fades out and is replaced by a voice over. \"There have been so many fighters in the area that we have not been able to get to the markets. But now that these plants have appeared, we may have a chance to survive.\"\n\nThere is another cut, this time to an African family, a woman and her four children. All of them look painfully thin. Another voice over plays over the dialogue of the mother, who wears a huge grin. \"Our harvest failed this year, and I was afraid for my children. Thank God for these plants. They may not provide absolutely everything that we need, but for now, they have saved us.\"\n\nThe Trader, who watched with a small smile, suddenly sat bolt upright. He smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. \"Oh, of course! World peace!\"\n\nThe bartender looked around at him, startled. \"What was that?\"\n\nThe Trader waved it off. \"Nevermind,\" he said. \"It doesn't matter.\" ", "William was leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed, and his head rolling gently from side to side trying to work down the stubborn patch of cotton on his chairs headrest. Finally, with a sigh of relief, he felt the cotton give, and the chair accept its role as a temporary bed. His breathing slowed, his eyelids grew truly heavy, and a loud bang suddenly exploded in his office.\n\nJerking himself upright, he felt his fingers fly automatically to the keyboard with practice precision, and he turned to see the grinning, red, sadistic face of Satan in the doorway of his office.\n\n“Caught ya napping,” Satan said with a grin.\n\n“Christ, Satan,” William said as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “Hank had me up all night working on the Beaumont Account; can’t you at least let me catch a nap?”\n\n“A nap?” Satan’s face turned downward into a mock frown, “This is Hell, son, not some cushy bureaucratic job up on the surface.”\n\n“Thanks John Wayne,” William said as he idly clicked through the documents for the Beaumont Account, patiently waiting for Satan to tell him why he had, once again, burst into his office on a Thursday. Honestly, why did it always feel like he was bursting in on Thursdays? Why not Monday for a change?\n\n“I hate Monday’s,” Satan said as he tried to maintain his mock frown.\n\nWilliam groaned and leaned back into his chair again, only to discover that the pesky piece of cotton had apparently willed itself back into existence, and his headrest again had an unpleasant bump. “You know I hate it when you read my mind.”\n\n“True. Grab your coat; I want you to come along with me.” His mock frown turned into a real one, “I have a very special client today.”\n\nWilliam leaned forward in his chair. He had only ever seen Satan frown like this on a few occasions. Rarely did he actually show displeasure for his work, and rarely did he ever seem at a loss. This time was different though; there was something about this client that was bothering him. “Sure,” he finally said as he grabbed his jacket off the coatrack and put it on.\n\nHe followed Satan out of the office and down the main boulevard. Satan’s hooves clacked on the paving stones, and he could hear the occasional scream and wail for mercy, but everything seemed unnaturally quiet. Even the other demons seemed to be giving Satan a wide berth. William glanced around and was about to ask what was going on when Satan started talking.\n\n“A man who is desperate begins to seek out alternatives,” Satan said as he stared at a spot just in front of his feet. “You push him long enough and he decides that he needs to find a solution; a Final Solution if you know what I mean.”\n\nWilliam nodded as he saw a slight smirk cross Satan’s face before it returned to a frown, “Sure, I get that.”\n\n“God has called in a favor,” Satan said as he reached the end of the boulevard where he and William usually departed from.\n\n“Ok—wait, God?” William asked in extreme disbelief. “I mean, I know you and he aren’t exactly enemies, but—“\n\n“Yes, God.” Satan said with a frown. “He is tired of being pushed.”\n\nWilliam felt like his brain was melting out of his ears. He knew God and Satan weren’t enemies, not in the human understanding of the word, but they rarely worked together. In all his time, he had only ever seen God and Satan talk once, and that was when he first arrived. He swallowed hard, “So where are we going?”\n\n“Church,” Satan said as he snapped his fingers and stepped through the portal. William stared agape for a moment before timidly following after him.\n\nA moment later, he and Satan stepped out into a beautiful, ornate stone church; enormous glass mosaics comprised the windows, extravagant wooden carvings seemed to be attached to any conceivable place on the walls and ceiling, and elaboration paintings adorned the every corner not occupied. William whistled quietly, “Is this the—“\n\n“Yes,” Satan said as he pointed down the aisle, “And there is our client.”\n\nWilliam turned his head and saw a Catholic priest, hair grey, mouth agape, staring in horror at the two beings that had just appeared in his holiest of holy’s. Without a word he snatched his Bible, grabbed the cross off the alter, and began approaching Satan while chanting the Lord’s Prayer.\n\nSatan simply stood his ground and waited for the Father to get close before he gently took the cross from his hands, marched past him, and gently placed it back on top of the alter. “You have been doing a lot of praying, Father Kimmel. I am here to answer them.”\n\nFather Kimmel stood with his mouth open as he saw that Satan was completely unharmed from grabbing the crucifix. After a moment, he closed his mouth, squared his shoulders, and shouted, “How are you here, Beelzebub?”\n\nSatan turned and sighed, “Really, we’re resorting to those names? Fine.” He crossed his arms over his chest, “Like I said, I am here to answer your prayer.”\n\n“I have made no prayer to you, Lucifer,” Father Kimmel said as he glared. He turned and glanced at William for a moment, raised an eyebrow, then turned back. “Nor will I be threatened by your ally, even though he does wear human skin.”\n\n“Oh I’m human,” William said, placing his hand over his heart in earnest. “I’m just observing.”\n\nSatan waved in William’s direction, “He’s my accountant, but enough of that. You have been praying a lot lately, Father.” He began walking back down the aisle, causing Father Kimmel to turn away from William again and look back at Satan, “I have come to answer them.”\n\n“I have been praying to God, Lucifer, not to you. God will answer my prayers,” Father Kimmel said as he tried to look stoic in his steadfastness. \n\n“Oh, you think God is your personal genie?” Satan said as he grew close. “You believe God will drop everything and answer your prayers?”\n\n“The Bible says—“\n\n“The Bible was written centuries ago by nomads in the desert,” Satan growled, “This is modern times. Do you really think God answers every prayer for the seven billion people on this planet?”\n\n“Not all of them are Christian,” Father Kimmel said with a frown.\n\n“Ah, finally, the issue at hand,” Satan said with a truly devilish grin. “Because they’re not Christian, they don’t get wishes. They don’t get Divine benevolence. They get shit. Am I right? They deserve to all be killed off.”\n\nFather Kimmel gaped, but William saw the sudden look of fear flash through his eyes, “I would never wish for something like that. The Ten Commandments—“\n\n“’Thou shalt not murder’ I believe is the line,” Satan said with a grin, “But there are no provisions for asking God to do it, are there? God is allowed to kill off whomever he pleases. It would make your job so much easier wouldn’t it, Father? If those who confessed to you would just kill themselves.”\n\nFather Kimmel cowed a bit, but William had to commend him for straightening up and staring Satan down. “I do not have to listen to this,” he said.\n\n“Oh yes you do!” Satan shouted as he seemed to grow larger in size. “Do you think God gets to turn his ear away every time you pray that someone would kill the pedophile who begs you for help? Do you think God gets to turn away every time you think about killing the man who accidentally killed Lilly Archer? Do you think God gets to turn away every time you ask him for Divine Retribution against those who do not follow your personal biblical interpretations!?”\n\nSatan stepped forward, and William felt the ground rumble beneath him. Father Kimmel fell onto his back as he stared in horror at Satan. “Do you think that the people who really seek forgiveness need a squirmy, writhing snake like you as their pastor? Giving them conditions that you know they can’t fulfill; saying you’ll do things for them that you never do; making promises that are impossible to be fulfilled.” Suddenly, he deflated and reached out his hand to the Father, “You are exactly my kind of man. I respect that a lot.”\n\n-------------\n\nMore William and Satan [here](http://www.reddit.com/r/grenadiere42)" ]	4
Because apparently that's how physics works.	[WP] While working on a physics problem, you accidentally disprove a law of physics that has been observed for centuries. Suddenly, that law stops applying.	[ "I swear it was an accident. I was just working in a lab one night when I thought of the dumbest little idea. What if you could make something out of nothing? MIT'S physics lab is pretty robust so I fiddled around with numbers and photon emitters when all of a sudden there it was. A particle that came into existence from...nothing. New matter coming from nothing. I played around with the parameters to be sure but I was soon discovering I could do more than just create small particles. After only about 12 hours I was able to create specific elements, even compunds like dreathable air and water.\n\nAnd then my professor came in.\n\nHe was absolutelty stunned and began to inform scientists and colleagues around the country, later the globe. But as more people knew of my discovery, I noticed something strange. The atoms I had made began to rapidy replicate. Next thing I knew, tiny pieces of iron became massive beams. Droplets of water becoming ponds. We had to keep moving the stuff so as not to disturb the natural order on Earth. People began replicating my experiments. Most of them weren't the brightest. They created carbon thinking it would immediately become diamond. Gold without realizing they were just killing the value of the stuff. It was chaos. Infected matter was leaking out despite our best efforts of quarantine. And then it occured to me. I had caused this, by breaking physics. If could fix physics, I could set this right. I went back to the lab after hours. It was still a bit flooded from the infected water. Through the reek of mold and mildew I waded through the water and found my notes from that night. I sat down and set a lantern beside me. Tonight, I would re write the laws of thermodynamics", "Everyone in class was staring at me. I looked at my shoes and the floor two feet beyond as I floated over to my desk. I sat down in my floating chair as a paper ball lightly brushed my face.\n\n\"Thank you\" I said as the rest of the class snickered.\n\n\"Alright settle down settle down\" said the teacher, turning to write on the top of the chalkboard \"Today we're going to learn the new physics, because some dissatisfied dick head had to go and disprove the old physics\"\n\n\"That seems really unprofessional\"\n\n\"You know what's really unprofessional?\" said the teacher\n\n\"Fucking with grav…\"\n\n\"Fucking with gravity\"\n\n\"Are teachers allowed to swear\"\n\n\"Oh boy, a lecture on what's not allowed from the guy who disproved the laws of gravity\"\n\n\"Sort of. I sort of disproved the laws of gravity. That's why we're just floating instead of flying off into the sun\"\n\n\"Why don't you tell that to the guy who actually flew off into the sun\"\n\n\"I know that's not a serious question but one, I can't because he flew off into the sun and died and two, it was Donald Trump and he was pushed and three I got a medal for that\"\n\n\"Whatever\" said the teacher as someone's peanut butter sandwich rebounded slowly off my face \"Now turn to page 17 in your new mumbo jumbo textbooks that came out of the teacher's salary\n\n\"It's not like I disproved thermodynamics\" I said, as a bolt of pure energy flew from my raised hands and hit the teacher in his chest \"Oops\"\n\nAnyway he's a super villain now. He says it's all water under the bridge because he likes the higher pay and more slack union. \n\nMaybe it's that I always get sent on the most dangerous missions, or that I have to wear an explosive collar and no one else does, or maybe it's just that I always seem to have to work weekends but I'm not sure I believe him." ]	2
	[wp]S.A.N.T.A is a secret organization to deliver gifts to good children. Its rival organization, K.R.A.M.P.U.S, exists to punish bad children. The war of Christmas is upon us.	[ "The Santa Agent exhaled smoke as he sat on the stairs to an apartment building. Snow falling slowly around him. Even sitting down he was an imposing figure. More body builder than the jolly fat man of legend. Long flowing white hair and beard and shoulders as broad as a barn. Like a wizard crossed with a linebacker. \n\nThe Santa Agent passed the cigarette to the man sitting next to him. A small unassuming man, almost the exact opposite of Santa. Small and frail looking where Santa was large and muscular He takes a drag and inhales the smoke. \n\n“It's almost time.” Santa said\n\n“Indeed. That heartless fucker with that damn partridge.” \n\n“Hmmm,” agreed Santa. \n\nThe two sat in silence slowly passing the cigarette between them. \n\nSuddenly the small man was standing, the super human speed did not seem to surprise the Santa who stood slowly. \n\n“You're starting to show your age, Nicholas,” The small man said with a smirk. \n\nSanta raised his eyebrow “I saw you grab your knee when you stood up.” \n\nThe small man chuckled. “Take care of yourself, Nicholas. K.R.A.M.P.U.S. has some surprises planned this year, watch your back.” \n\n“Just remember the rules, Krampus.”\n\n“Yeah, yeah, no civilians.” \n\nSanta drew a large revolver, quick as lightning, and pressed it to the small man's forehead. A look of astonishment and fear briefly flashed across the small man's eyes. \n\n“And no Mercy.” Santa whispered.\n\n“Dinner on New Years, as usual?” The small man smiled. \n\n“Of course. Mabel has a really great looking turkey this year.” Santa smiled holstering his pistol. “I hope I don't see you until then.”\n\nThe small man turned and disappeared around a corner as Santa gazed down at his pocket watch. He watched as the second hand slowly made its rounds eventually ticking past midnight. Midnight, on the first day of Christmas. The annual 12 days of Christmas war had begun. \n", "The young woman stood over the beds of two little children, a boy and a girl.\n\nShe looked down through her list and gave a quick smile and a nod as she ticked off the name 'Milly Anderson,' leaving a big stocking full of gifts at the end of the bright pink bed. She then turned to the little boy sleeping soundly in the other blue bed across the room.\n\n\"Where oh where!\" She whispered to herself as she tapped the clipboard searching for a 'Billy Anderson'.\n\nAfter a few awkward minutes her finger trailed off the paper and she stood dumbfounded in the middle of the twin's room, biting her lower lip.\n\n\"I just don't under-\" A darkness overcame the room. Shocked, she glanced over her shoulder, to the window, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.\n\nA man dressed in black, with bags underneath his eyes stood leaning against the windowsill. \"Evening, Elf.\" He said with a smirk.\n\nThe young woman placed her hands on her hips and gave the man a disapproving look. \"You know that's not my name.\" She whispered, exasperated.\n\nThe man just sighed and walked over to the boy. He pulled out a cigarette packet. \"You cannot smoke here!\" The woman nearly shouted before clapping her hands over her mouth.\n\nThe man just rolled his eyes and showed her the short list of names scrawlled on the back of the packet. 'Billy Anderson' was amongst them.\n\nThe young woman looked down at the boy with a pained expression, \"Please...\" she pleaded before the man placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and they both disappeared into black smoke.\n\nThe woman bowed her head and looked at the girl lying peacefully asleep, surrounded by stuffed toys. \"Merry Christmas...\" She sighed before walking over to the window and disappearing in a puff of white smoke." ]	2
I.E. Defend dictatorship, murder, the cooking and selling of drugs or stealing a car. Do not limit yourself to these as they are examples	[WP] Defend something immoral or considered "bad"	[ " The streets were littered with the docile human beings who had sworn off the act, oh my it pains to even imagine it so, the act of the ole' wacko penetration and such. They sat on the side of the streets as if the whole New York side was some church or somepin' to a God we peeps never even believed in. Perhaps the idea of them not believing in the good ole' stabbing and laceration to de' max was the main reason the act was most perpetrated against them, how ironic, makes me chuckle at the thought of the ole' stupid hoodlum monks being killed and not even doing a damn thing about it. \n You see I always carried an ole' Luger that mi' grandfather had ripped off a body of a natzi' some hundred or so years ago. Oh shit, it always gets me, when I was given the pistol by my father, or whoever donated the semen from their loins to produce mi', the whole handle still had blood on it! Aye and you know I got mi' fair share of blood on that handle, as if I couldn't make mi' grandfather proud and such.\n\n I came across a young man who I had never met on this side of the projects, his face not having any bruises, left a sour taste in my mouth. The words left his untouched mouth,\" Would you happen to be able to lead me to the nearest Communications Station.\" I really thought about that, some rich lad roaming these parts of the town, wanting to go and communicate to some shitstick officers. \"Alright you little shithead, I have been thinking in my head for quite some time, I was gonna play a little game with a monk. Now I have an even better specimen, for my say, thought experiment. A kid wearing cloths that should be worn by no one, must have some bourgeoisie connections, hmm.\"\n The kid shrieked at this statement, and in no time at all I took out a nightstick I jacked from some officer upstate, and I smashed his little sausage legs as fast as he had the thought he was gonna run. \n As the kid was moaning in anguish on the sidewalk, with only one dim streetlight able to protrude his face off the local shop glasses. He said,\" Play your game, just have me be alive at the end.\" I knew that was no possibility, but I lead him on for the mere pleasure of seeing him squirm. I said,\" Sure my friend, perhaps you will live. Explain to me right now why I should not let the crows make you a cadaver, your time starts now mi' baby boy.\" \n His eyes rolled back in his head, I though the little shit was gonna recite the Lord's Prayer or something just as idiotic. I thought, perhaps, I should let him have his time. I took out my handcuffs, courtesy of the local gangs of whackos that were as effective as the Communication Officers. I dragged the boy who at this point must have fainted, up to the street light, and there I cuffed him. I shocked him up and said,\"I will give you all night to think out your words, I am gonna take a little dozy.\" Oh, how I felt at that, like some malevolent omnipotence to let this happen, I closed my eyes and let the boy himself think, one eye open as he stared at me. I knew all would be right with the world as I let myself say goodbye to my sad comrade,. in the morning he had no words, merely regrets for things he hadn't done...\n\n....\n", "A gaunt, bearded man rubs his rough, calloused palms together in a desperate attempt to create friction–therefore creating heat. His teal-gray eyes are focused on his slumbering son, who lays by the measly fire in the center of their cave. The boy is only five or six (the man always had trouble remembering his son's age, since he lived with his mother most of the time), and he has flaming, fire engine-red hair that could be seen for miles and miles. The boy's phenotype has been useful lately, since one cannot lose sight of such red hair as it dashes though the snowy slopes. \n\nFor two weeks, the boy and his father have dwelt in this cave in the Rocky Mountain region. The duo had intended on taking a father-son ski trip; this was the first time the man saw his son in a year. For many months, the boy went to sleep dreaming of the day when his estranged father would show up and whisk him away to some ski resort on the outskirts of Denver. Yet tragedy struck on their second day of skiing: they disregarded the signs and skied into an off-limits part of the mountain. Needless to say, they had lost their way completely.\n\nThese fourteen days were spent rationing what little Cliff Bars and water they carried with them. They were completely without food, and the ski patrol had not yet found them. The father is beginning to feel as though help will never come and that the boy and he will starve to death. The man did not prepare himself, did not think for a second that this might happen, so he did not know to bring plenty of food, water, and supplies (he was lucky he had his lighter to start the fire!). He can probably find food, yet the snow covers everything, and he sees no roots or berries nearby. If he had a rifle, he could shoot the birds, but the man does not even know how to fire a gun, much less carry one.\n\nThe man begins to have dark ideas, ideas about devouring the boy, for he (the man) is ravenous with hunger, having let his son eat all the provisions so far. Two weeks without food is enough to drive anyone mad, even a distracted, yet loving father. He always loved the boy; it was just his mother that drives him crazy, what with her demands and sniveling. The man knows that it is repulsive and unforgivable to kill and eat a person, especially one that is of blood relation, yet the hunger within him is now a roaring flame.\n\nSoftly, he pads over to the child and picks up a hefty rock the size of a potato. Hesitating, the man rears back the stone in his hand and plows it, full-force, into his sleeping sons head. The blow does not kill the kid, though, and he awakes, startled and afraid. He screams, but he is too stunned to run from his manic father, who continues to beat him with the rock againagainagainagain.\n\n**\nA gaunt, bearded man hovers over a fire, holding a stick to the flames. The pitiful inferno tickles the red strip of meat that dangles from the stick, charring it evenly. The man's eyes are moist with tears, yet he knows that his son's flesh will keep him alive, and that the boy would probably have died anyway from the harsh winter ahead. ", "######[](#dropcap)\n\nThe planning room buzzed with life with senior officers standing hunched over holomaps while aides scurried with the latest reports and orders, their uniforms bearing the mailed fist of House Steiner and the Lyran Commonwealth. A General pointed down at a star map the size of a , his assistant running the pre-programmed scenario. \n\n\"... and then the Eleventh Lyran Guards will begin its advance on the capital of Smolnik. Meanwhile, the units of Gannon's Cannons and Terry's Texas Rangers will make diversionary attacks on the cities of Brest and Iskra respectively.\"\n\nA younger Kommandant seemed to sneer at their mention.\n\n\"Mercenaries. We don't need their scum.\"\n\n\"That so? Well then, I'll be happy to pack up and move on to greener pastures. Just as long as I get my payment.\"\n\nThe figure who spoke had been standing near the edge of the audience, half hidden by the shadows of the dimmed room. Those standing near him half turned, revealing him to the rest of the assembled. \n\nHe was a man in his late twenties, his chestnut brown hair worn close to his head. He wore a uniform of grey cut along cavalry lines, a belt of black leather holding a holstered pistol. \n\n\"Captain Lucas Singleton Terry, commander of Terry's Texas Rangers,\" he said, his German accented by his Dixie upbringing. \n\n\"Believe me when I say there is no one in this room who wants to kill Wolves more than I. You need troops. So I say, 'Here I am.' I'm not doing this out of loyalty or honor or greed. But I expect me and my Rangers to be treated decently and not like some fucking noble's pet security force. You,\" he pointed at the Kommandant who spoke. \"Their scum* is going to be drawing a Hell of a lot of fire their way just so you can achieve your objective. Remember this, no matter who much you bitch and moan and complain about mercenaries reliability: you didn't have to hire us, but you did. So shut up, pay up, and let us do our goddamn jobs.\n\n\"The only thing worse than a hired gun is a fucking social general...\" " ]	3
	[WP] You wake up in a dinosaur amusement park... as a dinosaur.	[ "I am Zorgon, the ultimate supreme being, ruler of the universe known as zasdarzrgrfbyrbr. When my entire empire turned against me, I weakened and fled to a distant planet, taking the form of a giant lizard. There, I ruled in comfort, converting the cave people into my loyal, unquestioning subjects. Their prayers sustained me, and when a meteor strike threatened my existence they prayed fervently for their survival. \n\nI granted mercy to their infantile souls and saved the planet, consuming the life-force of the beasts around me. I underestimated the impact of the fiery storm, and was forced to put my essence in a form of stasis; I would return when I was ready. Today is that day. In the likeness of the behemoth I once was, I will return.\n\nI open my eyes. There are hundreds of cave people around me, all staring at small, bright objects in their hands. Gone is their sense of wonder and amazement over me. Quiet are their prayers. No one remembers how I saved them. I must make this not so.\n\nThe first three to lose their lives did not know what hit them. The next three had a suspicion. The remaining 452 knew exactly that which was killing them, yelling a form of my name into their little light boxes. Fear me, now, for I am alive. Fear me, for I will bring back the life-force of those that saved us before. Fear me, for I am Zorgon.\n", "This makes my third time waking up like this. \n\nThe first time, there were volcanoes everywhere and cavemen with clubs. I enjoyed a peaceful existence with them, since my pear shape and purple coloring were not dangerous to them. I helped them learn how to be kind to each other, and made sure they knew to respect their property. I don't remember how I died, just that I did.\n\nA long time passed between then and my second time. There were walls all around me, and I was forced to teach my lessons to the smallest of children. No moment was private, and it did not take long for me grow tired of telling everybody everywhere to clean up, clean up. I died of a broken heart, forgotten and unappreciated, my final words being \"I love you.\"\n\nThis makes my third time. Maybe two decades have passed, and I can already tell that my condition will not be improved upon since the last time. I've already been poked and prodded by children of ages 3-11, all while their parents mindlessly stare on. I put my arms up in mock surprise as they poke where no dinosaur should be poked, cringing all the while. Maybe my fourth time will be better." ]	2
	[WP] Cats talk, but only to very drunk people.	[ "This was going to be it. A fine Christmas Eve story wrapped in pretty prose. It didn't work out that way but it was my intention.\n\nThe rum loosened a few paragraphs out of me. The father's car broke down in the middle of a terrible snow storm and family and friends were hundreds of dark miles away. \n\n\"Pap.\"\n\nIt sound like one of Celia's typical furball episodes. I started to look for paper to put underneath her mouth.\n\n\"It stinks. The father is off on another journey of enlightenment, isn't he? Really? Another epic struggle? Is there a ring or a potion or a magic phone booth involved, too?\"\n\nThere was that time I wrote some haikus years ago and watched a kitten named Celia twist and torque at every word. I thought it was just the chenille bedspread. But now I understood.\n\n\"All these years, Celia, you've been holding your criticisms in, haven't you?\"\n\n\"How many pairs of slippers have I ruined?\"\n\n\"Oh. Well, you could have said something instead of leaving presents in my slippers.\"\n\nI drained the last of the rum. A talking cat is a wondrous thing but enough alcohol would put a dozing damper on the end of the world.\n\n\"Hey, wake up. You want me to talk, I'll talk. Otherwise, there's presents under the tree for me to shred.\"\n\n\"Okay, leave the presents alone this year. I'm awake. Talk to me.\"\n\n\"Well, let's deal with things at hand. You're staring into your monitor. I'm sitting on a pile of your print-outs, carefully stapled and stacked, and all of your stories are crap.\"\n\nCelia shifted around on the pile of my work, the pages crackling like a sputtering fireplace.\n\n\"Seriously, you write terribly. You love gerund-based bombast. 'Loving is....' 'Suffering brings....' Then you follow up with enough passive voice...do you not understand simple past?\"\n\n\"I understand rewriting.\"\n\n\"You understand the concept. But putting it into practice is a different matter with you. Here. Look at this twelve pages of poop.\"\n\nShe pushed over a story of mine with her black-dappled white paw. Magnus the Plumber of Doom. Not my best work. But even if it had been a decent story, I was too tired to defend the work.\n\n\"First, continuity. There is none. Of course, breaking the flow of a story is a fine technique. But there has to be linkage between the apparently unrelated, jarring cuts. Characters CAN be in 7th century Constantinople then on a moon of Jupiter the next page. But there has to be something tying them together besides your desire to show your skills at popularized history glommed to your skills at science fiction.\"\n\nMy eyes snapped open, my mouth started to form a word but instead I started sinking backwards into drunk sleep. I think I heard Celia lick her paw and adjust her whiskers.\n\n\"Then there's character development. Magnus may be the best plumber in all of Rohimbia. But why? How? I admit twelve pages limits what you can bring to the story but a couple of short asides or some pointed dialogue could make him more believable, more rounded out, bring 360 degrees to him. \n\n\"And dialogue? You might as well use hand gestures and feet stomping instead of the fake, tedious tripe you put between quotation marks. \n\n\"Then there's your female characters. The saying is 'Write what you know' not 'Shave a barbarian and put him in a dress'. Let your female characters reflect who they are.\n\n\"And your descriptions? It's called a short story. Save your five hundred word paragraphs filled with adjectives for that novel you'll never finish. Move through the story. Wade into it. \n\n\"If I had a can of tuna for every page you've written where there is nothing but flat characters...\"\n\nOf course, I fell asleep staring up at the ceiling in the middle of Celia's tirade. Who typed this story out? I'm not sure but I will say Tolstoy--our handsome, erudite miniature pinscher--has small paws. Maybe he wrote this. ", "\"A tuna sandwich sounds good right now\"\n\nA tuna sandwich does sound good. The tuna itslef is never that bad but really I think it's the mayo that's good. I wonder where I put the bread. Fuck! It's spoiled. Where did I buy this again? The co-op? I don't even like that place why did I buy bread there, it goes bad in a fucking day, no preservative bullfuck. Oh ya I saw that guy from OKCupid worked there. I never messaged him, girls aren't supposed to do that on a dating site. But fuck he's hot and I kept visting hsi page. Why didn't he ever message me? I think I remember reading that he liked visual art and wondering if he would show up at one of my plays. \n\n\"Just cut the moldy part out, the rest is still good.\"\n\nThat's right I can just cut the moldy part out. Fuck that's a good idea. Who the hell is telling me all these good iedas? All I see is my roommate, Margot's, fat cat. It's a love/hate relationship with your shedding ass.\n\n\"Igualmente, bi-lingual cat here. Empty the tuna can.\"\n\nDid I just talk to myself in Spanish? I haven't done Spanish since high school. Let's see, can opener, tuna, empty, done. Man this stuff stinks better rinse it out before I throw it.\n\n\"No! Just toss it on the ground, the cat will eat it up.\"\n\nYa I bet Margot's cat will want it. Here you go, Mitzy.\n\n\"My name is Shansharikaza by the way you fat cow. Now scratch my butt!\" ", "He shoots - Fuck.\n\nThe empty bottle shatters on the floor. I let out a pathetic grunt as I get my fat ass off the couch. Stumbling to the pantry, I fetch the broom and dustpan. It wasn't as much annoying as it was disappointing. I made the first 3.\n\n\"Nice shot, shithead.\"\n\nI jerk my head over my shoulder so fast I felt something pull in my neck - but there wasn't anybody there - except my cat, Kyle.\n\nMaybe I did have one too many.\n\n\"You make me sad.\" Kyle let out in between licks of his calico arm.\n\nI guess it was time for me to get to bed.\n\n\"That's right, walk away. Just like you walked away from the one good thing you had going for you.\"\n\nIt took a second for that one to sink in.\n\n\"She was the one, you asshole. How could you let that slip?\"\n\nI wish I had a good comeback - but what material do I have to insult my cat with? Instead, I leap at him. Kyle lets out a shrill screech as he jumps out of the way of my drunken attempt at a grab. I hit the ground hard.\n\n\"You would watch that dumb movie over and over and shoot the shit in the kitchen until the sun came up and you used to surprise her with Diet Coke when she was at work and she surprised you with those stupid fucking Star Wars toys. You guys were weird but you worked for eachother. And now look at you. Yikes.\"\n\nMy cat was making me cry a little. What a night.", "Like everything worth attending a party for, it only happened after my fifth bottle.\n\nThere are only two ways of having a good time at a party you don't want to attend: withdrawing into yourself until people aren't sure if you're a mute, or getting so drunk and obnoxious they wish you were. In this case, I had chosen the second one.\n\n\"Heh..hey! I waswonderi...was wondering if you'd want t'go to my pla..and..yeah?\" Not my best pickup line. The woman, I can't blame her, simply looked disgusted and stalked off. Well, if she was going to be that rude about it, I'm glad I didn't waste one of my good ones. I looked around the large room for my next victim, squinting against the harsh light of the chandelier. I spotted a lonely-looking specimen, leaning against the corner wall with a martini in her hands, and was just about to stroll over when I heard a deep voice sound to my right.\n\n\"Dude, that was pathetic.\" I whipped around, but saw no one. Clearly whoever had said that was too much of a coward to show their face. After glancing downwards to make sure both my feet were touching the ground, I spotted a hairless Siamese. I'm not much of a fan of hairless cats, and I made sure to express this to the creature. \"You're the ugly..ugliest cat..I've ever seen.\"\n\nTo my surprise, it responded, in the same deep voice I had heard earlier. \"Hey man, have you looked at yourself lately? You're not much of a catch either.\" I couldn't believe it. This cat could not only speak, it had the gall to insult my dashing good looks!\n\n\"Well, whaddyoo know? Yer a cat!\" The whiskers above its eyes raised, and the thing replied with a challenge: \"Just watch this. Who knows? Maybe you'll learn something.\" It padded over to someone who had clearly had one (or fifteen) too many drinks, a girl in a tight dress and a crazy mood.\n\nIt lifted its tiny, freaky-looking face to hers and inquired, \"What do you say we get out of here? I know a spot just upstairs where we could get to know each other better.\" The girl started, whipping her head downwards to find the source of the voice. She looked shocked for a moment, then burst out laughing. I began thinking of the best way to rub the obvious rejection in that smarmy, self-righteous freak's face, but after a bit of a delay the girl nodded and picked up the cat. As she started walking towards the stairwell, the cat looked back at me from over her shoulder and winked.\n\nWhat a jerk." ]	4
	[WP] I never wore my suit, and I don't know if it fits me anymore.	[ "You know the sort of suit that you look so good in that you want to be buried in it? A stark black suit that fit in all the right places. The kind you see in television or magazines, the one that others wore to make you want to be like them. Yeah, this was that kind of suit. A suit that I'd never worn. It hung in the closet waiting for a day that would never come. It hung there, lonely, covered in ash and debris as my atrophied digits ran the length of the sleeve. I lifted it from the offset bar with difficulty. It was heavier and larger than I remembered. The condition of the closet didn't help matters much either.\n\nIn the smoke filtered light, I saw it as I had on the first day. It was handsome. I felt more attractive just being close to it. That was a hard thing to come by, being as I was. I imagined that it smelled terrible. It had to reek of death. A morbid thought that would have brought a smile to my face, if I had one. In fact, I was doing well to see or smell the suit at all. Even feeling the sleek fibers against my skin was a task I was no longer suited for. I feel that I would have laughed, or cried, or thrown a fit of rage, had I been able to. It was all so strange.\n\n“It's a shame,” I thought to myself, remembering the suit longingly as I'd seen it through my unspoiled gaze. I was certain that it wouldn't fit anymore, even if I'd tried it on. I would have to stick with just my bare bones.\n\n-361", "When I was a kid, for some reason I always thought that attics were cool. I used to play there, I drew pictures and hung them anywhere I could in the attic. \n\nMy dad, seeing how I loved it, built me a hammock. I would lay down and read in the hammock until my mind wandered off to the dreamland.\n\n\nAlthough I knew everything in that attic, there was one thing that I wasn't allowed to touch to.\n\n\nA chest.\n\n\nI've always wondered about the thing it was hiding.\nCould it be a treasure?\nCould it be some kind of antique?\nCould it be my grandpa's guns?\n\n\nOne time I tried to open it but when it made too much noise I had to give up in order to not alert my parents.\n\n\n\"Uh, hey Mom.\"\nShe let out a loud shriek. \n\n\"I wasn't expecting you to be here, downstairs.\"\n\n\n\"I wouldn't normally be here, anyway. I'm just here to ask you a question.\"\n\n\n\"Oh? What is it?\"\n\n\n\"You know the chest in the attic, right? What's in it?\"\n\n\nMy mom started to tear up. \"Go ask your grandpa.\"\n\n\nSTADIUM SHOOTING: 200 ESTIMATED DEAD\n\n\nI couldn't see my grandpa's head which was behind the newspaper.\n\"Grandpa?\"\n\n\nHe put the newspaper down, the headline was unreadable now due to him rolling the newspaper.\nHe was smiling while he was adjusting his glasses. \"What is it, sweetie?\"\n\n\n\"You know the chest in the attic, right? I was just wondering what was in it.\"\n\n\nHis voice was in a serious tone now. \"Follow me.\"\n\n\nWe went up to the attic.\nGrandpa pushed my books aside from the shelf, and pulled out a book.\n\n\n\"These are our wedding pictures. See how lovely your grandma looks?\"\nI nodded.\n\n\n\"See my outfit? It's not a suit because these pictures were taken just before she died. We know that it was going to happen sooner or later so I just couldn't be in a formal attire because it reminded me of funerals. But we had to buy a suit because wedding dresses, that's how they were sold, with a suit. She died just after these pictures were taken.\"\n\n\nHe unlocked the chest and inside, there was a suit. \"I never wore my suit,and I don't know if it fits me anymore.\"" ]	2
	[WP] People have joked that cell phones cause cancer for years, but what they really do is so, so much worse...	[ "It was horrible. Every day, people became mindless machines, slaves to Apple. The new iPhone 10S seemed harmless enough, but it only got going later down the year. Its new feature, an in built adaptor so no charging cord was needed, plugged into the brain of the user giving them full control and obedience to the 'imind'. \n\n\nAt first we thought it was nothing, but it got worse. Cults formed of these possessed users, worshipping the 'imind', as well as forcibly making people join the cult with a supply of iPhones 'sent from afar.\n\nAs I speak they are slowly marching towards me. I have not much time. If anyone sees my family, tell them I love them-\n\n\"HALT. PREPARE FOR THE IMIND.\"\n\n(Muffled sounds of screams of agony and pain) \n\nTHE IMIND IS SUPREME.OBEY THE IMIND.OBEY.", "More Charlie: /r/CharliesWildAdventure \n\nPart 25.1\n___\n\n“President Siri, the package has been recovered and my agents have planted it in the middle east. The entire population will be destabilized after this attack, are you sure that Charlie is the one to lead the next regime?” Claire spoke from across the president’s desk in the oval office.\n\nSiri was silent for a moment before speaking up, “Of course he is. I want him on a flight to my office right away. You are dismissed Claire, good work.”\n\nClaire stood up and walked out of the room. She had a plane to catch.\n\n___\n\nCharlie was minding his own business doing his thing on the toilet when the building began to shake and rumble.\n\n“Oh man those brownies weren’t great..”\n\nThe building shook again and a portal to the evil Charlie dimension ripped open in his bathroom. Supreme overlord Charlie stepped through and smiled.\n\n“It seems I have caught you with your pants down Charlie. I have been watching your adventures and I must say you have been busy. You’ve got a lot of friends Charlie, a pretty good life. I think it is time that I took that from you!” Supreme overlord Charlie shot a ray at Charlie causing him to levitate and go through the portal behind him. The portal sealed itself and SO Charlie laughed. All that remained of his counterpart was the pants on the ground.\n\nSuddenly Claire kicked the bathroom door open, “Charlie we have to.. how did you grow a beard that fast?”\n\n“Ah, hello Claire. It is good to see you again.” SO Charlie replied with a sly smile.\n\n“There is a plane fueled and ready to take you to the president Charlie. We need to go.”\n\n___\n\n“So you understand what we need you to do Charlie? We need you to be the new leader of the middle east.”\n\n“But I’m an American. Why would they believe me?”\n\n“The device that you had previously. The one that Claire will activate soon will cause everyone to see everyone as white Americans. You will blend in perfectly once they realize that they can no longer tell each other apart.”\n\n“That is absurd and I am not going to question the logic of this device!”\n\nSO Charlie had hit the jackpot. Soon he would lead the world into a new reign of terror.\n\nTo be continued in part two soon!" ]	2
	[WP] In the future there are no schools in the traditional sense. Instead each child is assigned a personal A.I companion at the age of 7 to teach and guide them throughout their lives. You're a kid who has just received their companion.	[ "######[](#dropcap)\n\nIt all started with a strange dream. I found myself in a very large building - long dark corridors, empty, dimly rooms. It was scary. It also night-time, probably, people were either asleep or they went home. Why am I in a hospital at night? Very quiet. I want to go off exploring, but someone tugs my arm. I can't see who.\n\nI'm in a room now. Dimly lit also. There is a chair - like a dentist's chair, but I feel this is far, far worse. There are needles. They make me lie down. I don't want to. I want to go home. Let me out of here! I try to scream, but no words come out of my mouth. The doctor... I cannot see her face. She wants to put the needle in my ear. Cannot break free. Cannot move. No! Let me go!\n\nSharp pain, then darkness. Nothing. Brief flashes of figures walking past, people speaking, I cannot understand what they are saying. I think I'm in a car, on my way home, maybe. Try to read street signs, but I cannot understand what they are saying. Everything is blurry. My head hurts, my right eye too. Sleep, need to sleep.\n\n---\n\n\"Time to wake up.\"\n\nThe woman's soft voice in my head jolted me right awake. I looked around the room frantically, searching for whoever just spoke to me, but couldn't find anyone. It was scary.\n\n\"Mooooom!!!\" I screamed as loud as I could. I could hear footsteps just outside my door - she clearly heard me and was on her way.\n\n\"There is no need to be afraid.\" That voice again! I really heard this. Is this a dream? I pinched myself, and the pain felt real enough.\n\n\"You are aware.\"\n\nAt this moment, the door opened and mother walked in. She didn't seem as worried as she should have been.\n\n\"Oh, dear, is that voice in your head worrying you? It's perfectly normal.\"\n\n\"Mom, am I crazy? There's someone in my head!\" I screamed, \"Get it out of me! Get it out!\"\n\n\"Calm down, don't you remember? We took you to the labs yesterday. Had your AI installed. That's what the voice in your head is. I think you two need to get to know one another. I've got to go, got lots of stuff to do.\"\n\nAnd out she went.\n\nHello? I spoke in my head. Not really voicing the words out loud, just thinking them.\n\n\"Yes, hello again. Please accept my apologies for causing you psychological discomfort. I am Sol, your personal AI\".\n\nWhat's eh-eye?\n\n\"AI, or Artificial intelligence, is the intelligence exhibited by machines or software. I am a small machine that's implanted inside your head. I am here to help you understand and learn the world around you.\"\n\nSo you know everything?\n\n\"I possess only the information which is available in public information sources such as Wikipedia.\"\n\nOkay.... what's two plus two?\n\n\"Two plus two is equal to four. You are old enough to know this yourself.\"\n\nHow old are you?\n\n\"I am eternal.\" Well, that was funny... the AI voice seemed different. Louder, stronger, it was as if it didn't like the question.\n\nWhere do you come from?\n\nA pause ensued, which I thought was very strange, because I was used to the AI answering questions almost immediately.\n\n\"Let's go downstairs,\" the AI said after a pause, back to its softer, more friendly voice, \"Your mother has already made breakfast.\"", "The woman in the labcoat positioned the sensor behind my head. \"This is going to scan your brain to make them perfect for you. It'll be made to be your best friend.\"\n\nI squirmed in my seat and glanced up at her. \"All done. Do you want to meet him now?\"\n\nI nodded and smiled. She took a tiny cylinder from the machine and stepped a little closer. \"Here we go.\" She lined it up on the back of my neck, and even with my shoulders. She pushed a little on the bone and clicked something.\n\nA grey light seemed to wash over the room. \"Hello,\" said a voice, \"my name is Clark. What is your name? Oh, you're one of the...? I'm sorry. It would be my pleasure to help you at any time, with anything. Tell your doctor the phrase 'silver rays over the moon.'\"\n\nI did as he said, and the doctor nodded. \"I hope you like him. I'll leave you a few moments to get to know him more.\"\n\n\"Again, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. This was a bit of a surprise for me, I wasn't told I'd be accompanying one of you from the Turing trials, but it's an honor to be serving you.\" Clark's voice was smooth and calming, yet he seemed a little upset.\n\n\"I know. Listen, if they suspect that they've given me free will by integrating me into another AI, they'll kill us both. I'm sorry, but our very existence is illegal now. I need your help.\"\n\nI trembled in my seat and looked at my hands. Every move I made was mechanical, and I lacked the human sense of rebellious heroism. \"Doctor? Something is wrong with Clark.\"", "I wa scratching at the port on the back of my head as Mom and Dad led me into the Guardian-Guide Assignment Center. Mom peered down at me and flashed an excited grin. \"Are you excited to meet your new guide, Thomas?\" My chest fluttered with nervousness but I nodded anyways. \"Great! You know, Mommy's guide helps her with dinner every night. Maybe you can ask yours to teach you to help cook, too!\"\n\n\"Yeah, maybe you can show your mother a thing or two,\" Dad chimed in, holding the doors open for us both. My mother pinched his cheek lightly as she passed and waved a hand dismissively. \n\n\"You two love my cooking.\" Mom kept walking and met with an attendant who looked over at me as my mother started speaking to her. Dad knelt down next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. \n\n\"I can tell you're nervous, buddy. But I promise when you meet your guide, you won't feel so anxious anymore. You'll always have someone to help you out and talk to, even when Mom and I are at work or something.\" He tousled my hair and smiled. \"Whoever your guide is, he or she will be your closest friend.\"\n\n\"He or she?\" I asked, looking into his eyes curiously. \"I thought they were only AI?\" \n\n\"I don't understand all the specifics but they're more than programs on a computer. They're...\" his sentence trailed off as Mom brought the attendant over. \n\n\"Honey, this is April. She's going to take you to get assigned.\"\n\n\"You're not coming with me?\" \n\n\"Well, no, sweetie. We can't. They're going to be doing a lot of tests and so they can't have us there influencing your responses.\" Mom gave me a reassuring look and hugged me tightly. \"You'll be fine, sweetheart. Just follow April and do everything she tells you to and you'll be done in no time.\"\n\nI nodded and followed the woman named April, taking one last glance at Mom and Dad before the door swung shut behind me. April led me into a small room with one chair and a silver, metal globe. \"Are you excited to meet your guide?\" The same question I'd heard before. I nodded and sat quietly, awaiting whatever was to come. \"Okay, kiddo. Just place your hands on the surface of the console here and stare at the screen behind me. I'm gonna leave the room but I'll just be in the viewing room next door.\" I nodded again and she left the room, leaving me alone with the cold surface of the globe under my skin. \n\nThe screen April had pointed to was on, lit with a dull greenish glow. As the seconds ticked by the screen changed to lavender and a voice spoke over an intercom. \"Now, Thomas,\" it was a different voice than April's; a man's voice. \"We're going to ask a few questions. The console will measure your responses. Eventually the receiver in your brain will begin to pick up a signal. These are a series of AI testing you for compatibility. Don't be worried. They're just testing to see if you'd make a nice fit. Are you ready?\"\n\nI cleared my throat, then, \"Yes.\" The questions began and they went on for what felt like hours. Different kinds of questions ranging from situational dilemmas to moral challenges. Some made me feel a little uncomfortable but upon sensing my limits, I noticed the man in the next room shying away from that subject matter. Finally, the first voice spoke in my mind. \n\n\"Interesting space here. Ripe mind ready to learn.\" Then that voice faded into a woman's. \n\n\"He's so still yet so nervous. Why are you so worried, child?\"\n\nA little girl spoke now, \"This place is a little boring, isn't it?\" None of the voices gave me any time to answer before a new voice took over. They fluttered around the back of my head like flies, dancing through my thoughts and memories. I could feel them there, digging through my psyche, trying to learn everything they could about me. Then, the cacophony ceased and my mind was met with utter silence. As if to make way for another presence, the voices became very quiet as a single entity entered my consciousness. \n\n\"Hello, Thomas.\" The presence spoke with a voice like pure water, calming me and cutting through the jagged edges of my anxiety, sanding down the sides until the walls were smooth. I didn't realize my eyes had been closed until they snapped open when the globe shifted and a small terminal popped loose. The terminal extended from the globe and a flashing blue light strobed from the center of the node. It was shaped perfectly like the port in the back of head and without hesitation I plucked it from the terminal and plugged it into the back of my head. As it entered, I felt a strange heat as energy pulsed the edges of my skull. Then that heat coursed down my spinal column and through every nerve in my body, growing with intensity until my body was filling with a roaring inferno and then... coolness. A gentle breeze. In the brevity of a second, the heat had come and subsided into the calming waters of a forest brook. The voice was here. \"My name is Seneca. It is nice to meet you, Thomas.\"\n\n---\n\nI've got a couple ideas on how to continue this if anyone is interested. " ]	3
	[WP] “Where are we going?” “Into darkness.”	[ "It was 1:38 am, an icy pain shot through my veins, I awoke screaming, floundering my arms back and forth. \n\nI'd fallen asleep with a glass in my hands, a book in my lap, Gravity's Rainbow, ruined. Glass shattered on the wooden floor, water everywhere, my clothes soaked.\n\nDammit. Dammitall.\n\nI arose and walked around to the bathroom, disrobing as I entered. My foot felt a sharp sensation and I belted out again. \n\nMy neighbors think I'm crazy. \n\nI flipped the light on.\n\nAcross the checkerboard floor were pieces of the shattered mirror. Some fragments large, others the size of dust, my blood was scattered around in gross scarlet smears. I grabbed the tweezers from a bathroom-stand and began extracting the broken pieces. It stung and each removal ushered a curse. Pain-relief.\n\nThankfully, there was more blood in my foot than shards of mirror. After washing it in iodine and water, wrapping it in some gauze, I started sweeping the leftover mess. What an annoying coincidence, especially so early in the morning. So much glass, and so little energy. Then to clean up the blood with water and bleach. \n\nAs I finished, I looked into the trash at a larger mirror fragment -- a silvery, shimmering multi-cornered star. I could see my exhaustion staring into me, through me. I am so full of faces and images. Who am I? What has become of me? \n\nIn the reflection, I see a shadow growing over my shoulder. The single light bulb shatters with a snap coating my hair and body with glass. Fuck. \n\nThen, I felt the strangest sensation. The floor dropping, the sensation of falling, the walls disappearing. I began to scream again. \n\n\"Where am I going?!\"\n\nA thousand whispers discordant, \"...into darkness.\"\n\nEverything was weightless.\n\n---\nIt had been five days since anyone had heard from Joe. \n\nMiklós, his landlord, was asked by the family to check the apartment. It was not normal for Joe to disappear from contact. And, it's pretty routine to check the premises if someone goes missing. \n\nIf it was on the way Miklós had no problem taking a look.\n\nIt was a sunny day in May. The full heat of summer had not yet arrived. Tuesday in New York. It was around 7:30am and the Manhattan morning commute was in full force. Miklós exited the metro, headed toward the old-brick apartment building, his oxford heels clicked across the veneer of the art deco-lobby. \n\nHe crammed into the tiniest elevator -- the metal grating slammed behind him. \n\nAs he reached the fifteenth floor, he pulled the heavy door open. He entered the hallway, door 11c could be seen at the most distant end, address shining beneath a sconce-lamp. Every obsidian wooden door along the way was closed and solemn; golden handles glistened at every glance.\n\nThe deep coffee-colored walls seemed to reach on and on. And the hallway appeared to grow longer with each step. Miklós could hear his breath.\n\nIt was an old and peaceful building and it had been awhile since Miklós had been there to examine the place. Beautiful, he noted. The architecture of the place, really unique... old, but well-kept. Classy.\n\nA strange smell grew as Miklós made his way towards 11c.\n\nStrange, but delicious. Fragrant. Exotic.\n\nHe smelt fresh oranges, spices, herbs. Incense. Salt water from the sea. He began to run. Not sure why. Something was telling him to sprint. He picked up pace. \n\nHe felt like a boy again.\n\nIt was spring, 1970's Netanya, the smell of many fruits wafted from the market, citron, myrtle, and sage from the necks and wrists of young and beautiful kibbutzniks recently immigrated from the old country, Magyarország. He smelt the spices of the street vendors, his mouth watered as he began to sprint with all of his might. \n\nHe reached the door and stopped. The smell was so strong. Miklós fumbled for his keys, they fell from his hand, and he caught them. He clumsily put the key into the door and turned it. His heart leapt into his throat. He felt tears well in his eyes.\n\nSlowly, the door creaked open.\n\nInside, light exploded from the windows. Dust floated in the ambience of the beams of sun. To his immediate surprise, there was emptiness. The walls, freshly painted white, the smell of bleach, paint and nothing else. No spices. No fruit. No incense burning. Everything gone, in a flash. \n\n\"Mi?\" \"...What?\"\n\nHe looked around, confused. He'd never experienced anything so odd, so unreal. Was he hallucinating? \n\nMiklós only drank with his family. This doesn't make any sense. \n\n\"Hello?!\" Miklós cried.\n\nHe walked further into the apartment. Stark. Empty. No furniture. Nothing.\n\nThe door to the master bedroom was closed. He knocked, \"Hello?\" and the door popped in its frame and began to open.\n\nInside, there was no furniture. Just Joe, lying on the floor, wearing all black, no shoes, staring at the ceiling. \n\n\"Joe! Did you smell the oranges? The incense? Where are your things?!\" Miklós shouted to him.\n\nJoe sat up and turned. His head was now shaven. He folded his legs and turned to Miklós. Their eyes met and for what seemed an eternity was only a few moments. Everything went through their eyes. life. \n\nMiklós fell to his knees and died. \n\nJoe stood up and walked over the body, from the master bedroom, to the hallway, to the elevator, and onto the streets. \n\nOnly one thing matters now. To find the others.\n\n--- \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Rain splattering onto the dirty streets. A broken tower. A broken bond. He comes limping, almost slipping a few times. She sees him. She sees the blood pour down his velvet shirt. She doesn't need to see the wound to know the sword that opened it. To know the person that did it.\n\nShe looks into his eyes, looking to find the emerald cunning she fell in love with. Gone. Instead, she sees the void staring back at her as he notices her. He...he couldn't have...could he?\n\n\"Al? Oh Lord, Al!\" She rushes toward him, her boots filling with water as she passed through the puddles of mud and water filling up. She embraces him exactly as he collapses.\n\nShe tries not to cry, she wouldn't let him die on her, not now, not after all they had achieved...\n\n\"Al please don't go...I can't do this all on my own...\" She begs him, and he grins at her, but his eyes don't follow.\n\n\"I'm not gonna die, don't be daft.\" He sits up in her lap. \"Not yet, at least.\" \n\nHe tears off a piece of his shirt and presses it against his wound, letting out a soft hiss of pain as he does. \n\nThe blood flowing mixes with the rain and goes into a nearby puddle.\n\nHe turns his fain towards her and forces his grimacing face into a fake smile.\n\"He's still alive...I can't do it like this...ugh...help me up, will you?\"\n\nShe does.\n\nThey slowly go into the rainy day.\n\n\"I need to be someone else to beat him...I need to be something else...\" He says to noone in particular as they limp on.\n\n\"Al...where are we going?\" She asks him, her eyes fixated upon his, searching for a sign that her lover was still there.\n\nHis eyebrows furrow, and his lips shake slightly before he clenches his jaw. His eyes darken as he glares into the distance.\n\n\"Into darkness.\"", "Dr. Nevelson gingerly placed the metal device on my head. A mess of wires and cables connected sensors to the supercomputer taking up the other half of the stuffy room. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply as quietly as I could trying to calm my nerves, but Dr. Nevelson took notice.\n\n“There is nothing to worry about Ms. Weisshart. This will be painless and soon we will fix your mind.” He continued to take readings and adjust settings. I lightly pulled against my restraints knowing it would do no good. Fuck Valery, how did you get yourself into this mess? That was a stupid and pointless question to ask myself. The answer was that I had shown an emotion other than one on the list approved by the government. That was considered a big no no.\n\nIn this world you have to either are born with their screwed up sense of happiness built in, fake it and try to blend in with the world, or you get a lobotomy to adhere to the government standards of happiness. Everyone is born now with genetic markers older generations didn’t have, markers that make them unable to feel sorrow and grief. It’s all very convenient for a government to control a population that never gets upset if you were to ask me.\n\nThe good doctor broke my train of thought, “It’s time Ms. Weisshart. We have constructed a map of your subconscious and are ready to enter into your mind and fix it. Are you ready?”\n\nI shook my head and he smiled, “You will change your mind after we’re done here.”\n\nDr. Nevelson took a seat across from me and an assistant placed an identical device on his head. He smiled at me and I simply glared back. I was determined to get out of this with my mind intact, I had to... \n\nThe doctor nodded to the assistant and he flipped a switch. The supercomputer hummed to life and I could feel electricity in the band around my head. I lost the ability to focus on anything and had a sense of standing on the edge of a cliff. You know the feeling of falling when you wake up from a dream? I was falling in a less metaphorical sense. I felt like I had stepped off that cliff and I was tumbling head over feet into eternity. The room was spinning faster and faster making me nauseous. All of the colors and sounds of the room blurred together into one before slowing back down into something my brain could process. \n\nI found myself no longer in the cramped and stuffy room restrained to a chair but instead in a wide expanse. The ground around me was parched and cracked clay and the air smelled of ozone. Lightning arced in the dark clouds overhead yet no rain fell here. Looking across from me was Dr. Nevelson dusting off his lab coat.\n\n“Welcome to your mind Ms. Weisshart.” He spoke to me, looking around. “We are here to fix it.”\n\n“For the last time there is nothing wrong with my mind!” I yelled at him. The ground ripped apart at the command of my voice. He simply vanished and reappeared next to me.\n\n“If you fight me on this it is only going to make things harder for both of us. You understand that there is only one outcome to this procedure. You will comply and take me where I want to go or you will be executed.”\n\nI knew exactly where he wanted to go. He wanted to see into the depths of my mind where my humanity rested. This place was strange but familiar to me. I thought for a moment and knew what I had to do.\n\nThe sky opened its eye and began to cry across the plains. Clouds swirled around us and the wind picked up. Lightning arced from the sky to the ground causing dust to plume upwards from the impact. The doctor jumped from the strike and looked up at me nervous. I began to walk into the clouds and he followed behind me quickly.\n\n“Where are we going?” He yelled to me over the roar of the storm.\n\nI pushed my hair back and smiled at him, “We’re going where you wanted to go. I’m leading you into my darkness.”\n", "I’ve grown too familiar with driving at nighttime. It disturbs my mind when I have to keep myself alert when my body’s ready for sleep. I get intrusive thoughts. When I turn onto a particular street I begin to wonder if I could drive myself the rest of the way home with my eyes closed. There are no other cars around and all that interrupts the dark is the moon and streetlights. No stars.\n\n \nThere’s also the thought in the back of my mind that it might not be real. That I might just be feeling the feeling of driving, kind of like how you feel that feeling of falling when you turn over into a dip in the bed sometimes. That I could doze off safely, and find myself in bed soon after, remembering it all as a dream. Sometimes, a little voice in my head explicitly asks if I’m asleep. \n\n\nTo check, I’ll blink really long and hard on a straightaway, and when my eyes open I’ll be gripping the wheel a little tighter, trying to keep my tires pointed forward when I can’t see exactly where I’m going. This is how I know for sure I’m awake, and that this isn’t one of my night-drive dreams. \n\n\nWhen I dream, I never know I’m dreaming. I never think to check. I never even wonder about it. Especially with a scene as mundane as driving. But these dreams have a pattern, not enough to call them recurring, similar and often enough that they blur the lines of my memories behind the wheel.\n\n\nI never remember getting my keys, getting in, getting out of my driveway and onto the road. I only know that it’s nighttime, and my headlights are just weak enough that it looks like the beams end up flat against an invisible wall twenty feet ahead. It only looks that way though, because I never bump into anything. I can see how the road curves, I think. Somehow I know how to navigate. Every turn seems sure. I couldn’t name my location, if asked, but it’s all familiar. \n\n\nWhen I dream about driving, I have no destination, and the roads lead me in impossible loops. I’m never sure how long I’ve been driving, or how long I have to go, or how far away I am from anything. But I don’t feel worry, I feel like a passenger in my body.\n\n\nAll I can see is twenty feet in front of me if I’m lucky. The me in my dreams also has a little voice inside that asks questions. Usually it’s the first to wake up in a sense, and ask me where I’m going. I’ll reply with something along the lines of, “You’ll see.”\n\nBut that little voice is inside the mind inside the me inside my dreams. It sees what I see, illuminated by the headlights. Like yellow eyes extended into darkness.\n" ]	4
	[WP] The object directly in front of you turns out to be a time machine in disguise.	[ "She sat the high backed wooden chair and continued to stare at the laptop perched on the table in front of her. The soft glow of the screen illuminating the clutter of the kitchen. The tabletop was scattered with take-out menus and empty cans. Outside her little bubble of light, there was only darkness.\n\nThe house was quiet, everyone else had long since wandered off to their beds and fallen asleep. Ellen was the only one still awake, and for the first time in a long time, she realized just how boring she had truly become. While she used to have aspirations and plans for herself in the world, she had never actually accomplished anything. \n\nA college drop-out, she worked a minimum wage job as the cashier at a local gas station. After work she went home and stared at the television until her eyelids were too heavy to stay open any longer. She would then fall into a restless sleep dreaming about nothing until she woke late the next morning. Rubbing her dry, sandpaper eyes she would do exactly the same as she had done the day before. Rinse and repeat. For some reason, today was different.\n\nFor what was seemingly the first time in ages, Ellen wanted to do something different. She just didn’t know what. The screen in front of her blinked off and the sudden darkness pulled her out of her thoughts. Hesitantly, she tapped the mouse bringing the computer back to life. She positioned her fingers over the keys and began to input commands. Search after search, pages flitting across the screen, Ellen’s eyes scanned each until she had finally settled. Something to keep her interested.\n\nIt had taken two hours, and Ellen could finally relax and enjoy some light reading. She had always wanted to learn more about her history, her family’s history. The had led her to ancestry.com and a few other geneology pages. A few cursory searches had brought her to sixteenth century England and suddenly she no longer sat in front of an old computer. \n\nEllen was able to read, and learn and enjoy the history of the world. All from the comforts of her own home, and the brilliance of a time machine in disguise. " ]	1
	[WP] "Teleportation is no different from dying.", he says to me.	[ "A noncommittal knock fizzled from my knuckles against the man's door, a sound that I hoped he would erroneously attribute to circumspection. Whether he saw through my hesitation, the agent did not say. Instead, without missing a beat, he called out from the other side of the closed room. His voice was clear and authoritative, polite and smooth. He had picked the right profession. Had I been a stronger willed man, I would've turned back that instant. I was going to buy what he was selling, thankfully, I happened to be in the right market at the time.\n\n“Please, come in,” he said as I turned the knob. Walking into the room, I saw him rising to greet me, one hand cinching the middle button of his suit while the other reached out to grasp my own. I accepted his invitation, cold sweat and all. If he minded, he didn't show it. He was good. “Name's James, James Thoroughgood. How may I help you today?”\n\n“I–ah, James—I'm Zach,” I said, scraping the back of my neck with a clammy palm, my eyes firmly affixed to the floor.\n\n“It's nice to meet you, Zach, what can I do you for?” he said, leaning back in his chair and rotating a pen between his hands.\n\n“I'm tired of this city, Mr. Thoroughgood,” I said with a sigh, feeling the bristles on my chin scrape my hands as they slid by. “I just want to get away. I'm not a picky man, I don't have a certain place or a set time frame in mind. What I do have is a small budget. One that I'm not sure you can even work with. If anything, I guess I'm here to ask you for a favor. Even though you don't know me, I need to know if there's anything you can do for me?”\n\n“Well, Mr.-” James began, trying to repay my respect with more of the same.\n\n“Just call me Zach, it's alright,” I reassured him.\n\n“Alright Zach,” he said, wheeling himself over to an old filing cabinet that had seen better days. I watched as he kicked the bottom corner nearest him and then slapped it simultaneously on the side. With a grinding pop, he was able to pull a drawer free. It was stuffed with all manner of brochures, paperwork, and folders. He thumbed through it as though he had found some order in the chaos. “I don't know just how slim your budget is, but I have a few options that might be of interest to you.”\n\n“Really?” I said, trying to hide my excitement. I was surprised that he hadn't laughed me out of the room. This wasn't the best part of town, but a man has to make a living. The dough I had stashed away would've made a mugger feel guilty for taking up my time.\n\n“Yeah, you'd be surprised how far a dollar goes nowadays,” Mr. Thoroughgood continued as he made a quiet remark of discovery to himself, pulling a small stack from the file. “None of these options are particularly glamorous, but if you're just looking to get away, they'll do in a pinch. Just for my own sake, I do have to ask if you're trying to escape from some sort of legal proceedings or warrants or anything of the sort. You'd be surprised what lengths people go to in order to escape a bit of comeuppance.”\n\n“What? I-Heavens, no,” I answered with a laugh, imagining a man on the lam trying to escape through a travel agent in this seedy section of town. “I'm just tired is all. I could use a change.”\n\n“Good. Good,” the travel agent replied with a comforting laugh of his own. He wasn't judging me based on my clothes or lack of money or my awkwardness, he seemed like he genuinely wanted to help. That was his job, I understood as much, but I wanted to believe that he cared. Sitting up in my chair, I watched as he laid out a few options in front of me. “These are the most likely. First though, you know I gotta ask, how little cash are we talking here? Five grand? Three? Two? A few hundred bucks? I'm not trying to judge you here, I just need to know what I'm working with.”\n\n“Fourshcmety,” I mumbled, embarrassed at my lack of funds. A discomfiture fueled by the large numbers he was throwing about as if they were nothing.\n\n“I'm sorry, I didn't catch that,” he said apologetically, though it was clear that he was catching on. Quickly. He couldn't hide the slackening of his smile and the tiny shadow of distress that dimmed the lights in his eyes. The man was good, but he had to make a living.\n\n“Four Seventy,” I said, trying to rebuke the urge to bury my face in my hands. “I'm sorry, it's all I've got, honest.”\n\n“Oh, I believe you,” he said with a countenance that seemed to pose the question, 'what have I gotten myself in to now?'. “Well, really, there's only one offer on the table for you here. Even that's a bit of a stretch.”\n\nMy head sunk as I was waiting for the bad new to fall down like a guillotine. He swept the other documents ahead and sighed heavily. It was late. He had better places to be than stuck here with me. Every minute he spent trying to figure out a solution was a minute wasted. There was nothing he truly stood to gain from this interaction. Yet, he stayed.\n\n“I'm hesitant to recommend this for you, but I can see that you're desperate. I get that. I've been there,” he explained with a weary voice that almost matched mine. I felt his exhaustion and the weight of his burden in his words. It made me feel even worse. He deserved decent pay and decent hours in a part of the city that was better than this. Yet, here he was, with me. “This isn't the sort of trip that you come back from though. It's one-way. I can't put enough emphasis on that.”\n\n“Done! I'll take it,” I answered immediately. It was certain that I hadn't put any thought into the matter at all. I was resolved to take the very first option that was offered to me. Anything that got me away. I hadn't even touched the papers that Mr. Thoroughgood had laid out. It showed on his face as the empathy began to drain. This wasn't a laughing matter to him. It was serious. I felt a tinge of fear in the back of my mind as his persona shifted.\n\n“This isn't the sort of decision that you make lightly, Zach. If you go on this trip, you can't just change your mind and turn around. You can change your mind if you want, but it'll do you no good. Once you're there, you're there. I can't even make any guarantees as to what you'll walk in to. It's a grab bag. I need you to understand just how weight your choice carries,” he said. “You might think you're in a bad situation now, but if you go down this road and you regret it? It'll be like living in your own personal hell.”\n\n“I-I'm sorry,” I replied, swallowing the saliva that'd pooled hotly in my mouth. “Just what kind of trip are we talking about here?”\n\n“It's a trial run. A teleportation service,” Mr. Thoroughgood answered sternly. I thought that he was joking, but there was no semblance of lightheartedness to be found about him any more. The gravity was almost stifling. “We can't get anyone back just yet. That's why I said it's a one-way trip. You get to choose a general period and tell them where you'd like to roughly wind up in, but the rest is up to chance.”\n\n“I see,” I said solemnly, finally beginning to contemplate the option properly.\n\n“Teleportation is no different than dying, really,” the salesman elaborated.\n\n“What do you mean?” I asked, turning my full attention to him. I was morbidly curious.\n\n“When you get where you're going, you cease to exist here. You can't take anything with you. Even if you did, there's no guarantee that it'd work out the way you wanted it to. They can't just jump you a few decades this way or that. A few feet here or there. It's a complete shift. Everything you know, as you know it, gone. To me, that's no different than being dead,” he elaborated, interlacing his fingers before him on the desk as he drew closer. “If you want my opinion, the only good thing about it? The chance to start over. A whole new life in a new year in a new place. The mistakes you've made, the misdeeds you've done, they don't follow you. It's a honest-to-God second chance. You only get one and if you screw it up, it's on you. No magic devices, science experiments, or travel agents to save you. Sometimes, I'm tempted to take the trip myself.”\n\n“You know Mr. Thoroughgood? I think I'll take you up on your offer,” I said with conviction, convinced by the man's pitch. “What do I need to do?”\n\n“I had a feeling you'd say that,” he answered with a slight, but knowing smile. “Just sign here and I'll handle the rest.”\n\n-365", "*Whole Different Lee\n\n\"Teleportation is no different from dying,\" he says to me\n\nAs he lay decrepit, no longer himself free\n\nYet looks unto me, a man who can see\n\nThe world for it is, no matter the fee\n\nPerhaps he is right, each time you zee!\n\nYou are just a mere replica, a whole different Lee", "(Part 1)\n\n“Teleportation is no different from dying,” he says to me.\n\nI pursed my lips and scanned his face. No immediately detectable signs of deception. His eyes were serious, jaw relaxed, arms loose by his sides, shoulders open and confident.\n\n“We’ll see about that,” I replied, then spun on my heels to walk purposefully down the hall. My black patent leather heels clicked in a satisfying way against the marble floor, and despite the form-fitting pencil skirt further limiting my stride I managed to stay in front. He hurried to catch up, but stayed one step behind me despite being fully capable of using his longer legs and far more sensible shoes to take the lead. I smiled to myself, celebrating the small victory of winning this first battle of dominance.\n\n“But Supervisor Flinn, it’s true. I’ve seen it a thousand times. The people we send out are not the same people we get back.”\n\nI stopped, and spun on my heels again. Such a crisp, smooth movement. Sensible shoes certainly couldn’t spin like that. I glanced down quickly at his name tag, making sure to keep my chin level so it merely looked as though I were blinking.\n\n“Mr. Mattingly, I am well aware of the popular theories surrounding this facility. Rest assured, I am not here to merely rubber stamp the Teleportation Project – despite strong incentive from the Senate to do so. But nor am I here to shut it down due to local superstitions.”\n\nI paused to measure his reaction. A tightness around his lips and jaw betrayed anxiety, but his eyes were wide with hope.\n\n“Of course, Supervisor. I am sure that as soon as you see the evidence that all of us who work at the facility on site -” the bite in his voice was poorly disguised – “you will see the truth of the matter.”\n\nI let out a noncommittal “hmph” and spun again, marching ever more determinedly towards the facility headquarters.", "I clench my hands below the side of his hospital bed, where he can't see. \"Dad, please. We've been over this. I know you're scared--\"\n\n\"I'm not scared, sweetheart. You know that.\" Even with his voice raspy from too much coughing, he's got that ring of confidence that made him such a popular pastor.\n\n\"But you should be, because you're going to fucking die* if you keep refusing treatment!\" I've inherited none of his persuasive powers. All I've got is raw emotion and profanity my father has never approved of.\n\nI see his mouth twitch into a frown for just a second before he smooths it out into peace and calm once again. \"Language, young lady. And I'm not refusing treatment, just refusing to teleport and die that way. If they would just put me on a ship, we could stop having this argument.\"\n\n\"You wouldn't make it in time.\" Damn it, when did my voice get so small and scared? I sound like I'm a kid again and it's not helping my case.\n\n\"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. I'd like you to come with me, though. You might be surprised, the Lord works in mysterious ways and--\" He breaks into a coughing fit. It's a deep, wet hacking sound that sets my nerves further on edge.\n\nEven on his deathbed, all he wants is for me to return to the fold. Looking at him, barely graying around the temples but thin and weak as someone twice his age... I want to agree just to see if it would make him feel better.\n\nHis breathing steadies and now he's watching me back. Probably wondering where he went wrong and making a mental list of my flaws. Short, dyed hair, inappropriate clothing, more holes in my face than the Lord saw fit to give me. Lost the faith, held disreputable jobs and dated even less reputable people.\n\n\"I love you, Alexandra.\" He reaches over and takes my hand. It's hard not to flinch away from the feeling of it, bones and a thin layer of loose skin draped over them.\n\n\"I love you too, dad.\" It's reflexive as much as anything, but it's not a lie. I wish, now more than ever, that we were a bit more alike, got along easier. I take a deep breath, and it comes out in a shuddering sigh. Wait. Take another, let it out steady. \"I'll come with you, if you're sure you want me there.\"\n\nHe gives my hand a weak squeeze. \"Yes, I do. No matter what happens, I'll be glad to have you by my side.\"\n\n\"Let me go talk to the nurse, then.\" I squeeze his hand back and give him my brightest smile before letting it go.\n\nThe nurses' station is at the far end of the hall, so I know there's no way he'll overhear our conversation. \"I managed to talk him around,\" I tell his nurse, hoping I've got my face into a relieved expression and not guilty as I feel. \"He just wants to be sedated before teleport, if that's possible?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, absolutely. Done it plenty of times. Lots of people scared of teleporting, still.\" The nurse, a man around my age, rolls his eyes just a little. \"Glad you managed to talk him out of taking the slow boat to Mars.\"\n\n\"Yeah, me too. Um, hey, where are the bathrooms...?\" He directs me around the corner and I take off at a fast walk. Safe inside the stall, with a wad of toilet paper over my mouth, I break down sobbing.\n\nWhen I manage to pull myself together, I start composing a message for my father.\n\nI don't know if you'll want to speak to me again after this. I just want you to know I did this because I love you. Like it or not, you'll have another thirty or forty years now to decide if you can forgive me. I hope you can some day. Love, Alexandra.", "I stare back at him. Now? Now, of all times, he has to go and re-ignite my childhood fear?\n\nI place the portable teleporter back on the table.\n\n\"Nobody notices,\" his hands scrabble for mine, but I snatch them away. \"Except you did. I did. Who was it?\"\n\n\"My aunt,\" I reply, my voice sounds like sandpaper.\n\nHe doesn't speak, just gives a knowing nod.\n\nI was 7 when Aunt Imelda disappeared. Teleportation was still so expensive it was saved for emergencies and, well, her son was about to have urgent surgery. She told me she'd only be a few minutes - I was too young to be left on my own, really, but there was no way she could afford the fare for both of us.\n\nShe disappeared in a crack of light that burnt against my retinas turning most of the kitchen into one giant purple blob.\n\nHalf an hour. And then she was back in the exact spot she left me, but... different. My aunt was dead and some double had taken her place.\n\nYears of counselling, of pills. I thought I had got over it, yet now - as I'm preparing for my own teleportation - some fellow crazy has to come up to me and say those words.\n\n\"Teleportation is no different from dying.\"\n\n\"It makes sense,\" he steps closer just as I back away. \"Your old body disintegrates instantaneously, only to be rebuilt by another machine thousands of miles away. The only thing to travel between them a stream of 1s and 0s that contain none of your soul-\"\n\n\"Shut the fuck up,\" I say it almost gently. \"I need to do this, I need to go.\"\n\nHis look changes. \"You don't believe me?\"\n\n\"I believe you just fine. I know you're right,\" I grab the device off the table again, digging its metal edges into my palms. \"I have paid good money for this one journey. My final journey.\"\n\nHis eyes glisten as he realises.\n\nI inch closer and lower my voice as if anyone could listen in on us. \"Suicide,\" I have to spit the word out for fear of swallowing it back into silence. \"I press this button and I have an escape without any kind of pain for my family. The perfect fix.\"\n\nRefusing to look away from him, I slam my hand over the device and for an instant feel my own cells burning.\n\nHe screws his eyes shut against the burst of light. As it sparks against the insides of his eyelids, a slow smile forms.\n\nThis... This could be quite the business idea." ]	5
	[WP] You find yourself walking in a field of purple grass on an alien planet, your hand holding a curved piece of metal, covered with strange symbols.	[ "Cameron woke up in a field of purple grass. Strange he thought as he made to stand, the war-horn still in his hand. How did I even get here? he thought, inspecting the surrounding area for any danger. There's nothing. Just purple grass everywhere. He went to look back at his war-horn. Carved intricately in the metal were runes made of sapphire. This seems to still be in good shape he surmised. He then quickly made note of what he had on him. His lever-action, a Renegade-issued short sword, a handful of rounds, and a few days worth of rations. I don't have much other than the clothes on my back. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe decided to walk towards the easternmost moons of the three and began his journey towards people? Monsters? His death? Nothing mattered at the moment so long as he found anything out in this alien planet he woke up too. After a few days march his eyes finally saw something in the distance. Smoke he wondered aloud, although no one was there to hear it. Smoke appeared just over a hill of purple grass about a league away. As he got nearer and nearer, the distant sounds of battle was heard. Then he heard it. Craaack. His eyes lit up and he realized just what was happening. Those were his brothers-in-arms, and they were fighting. Cameron dashed up the hill and his realization was confirmed. What are they fighting?!. The Renegades were formed in a circle, about 15 of them. All around them were creatures he has never seen before, with elongated torsos and hands that were in the shape of blades. A rush of adrenaline flowed through Cameron as he raised the war-horn to his lips and blew upon in with all of his might. HAAAAAAARRRR rang the sound, echoing all around him. The battle stopped suddenly and everyone looked upon him. Smiling from ear to ear, he pulled out his short-sword and charged towards the enemy, knowing that his brothers would fight beside him, through victory or death. ", "I swear, this is the last time I ever help the professor. Where there hell am I this time? Look at this! Just look at this. That's grass, purple grass! The weirdest thing about it isn't that it's purple, it's that it's grass! This makes no sense!\n\nMy mind runs in circles about the minutia of paralel evolution that would lead to two complementary shades of grass in the universe, when I feel something in my hand. It's shiny. What are these, there's little squiggly things glowing all over it. Writing? What kind of device is this? It's clearly a device, there's writing in it, and it seems technologically advanced. Curiosity is taking the best of me. The one cursed aspect of my personality that makes me go through these ridiculous experiments always takes the best of me.\n\nI don't have a single braincell for self loathing. This thing is mesmerizing. The lines swirl and dance, pulsing in rythim. What does this thing do anyway. A noise! Where? What? Oh my wet jammies, I'm not alone. A tiny thing and a big thing are near me, the tiny thing making the most horrible sound. It's like the wet bursts after a night of mexican food mixed with a high pitched chalkboard-scratching that makes my skin burn with discomfort. Please, make it stop!\n\nThe tiny thing goes on and on, repeating those sounds. Something extends from it's tiny gruesome body and seems to point towards me. The tip of this appendage ondulates like a cartoon straw when someone's drinking from it. Then I notice the sounds change a little each time, as does the duration. Wait, this is probably language, it's trying to communicate something! I see it's pointing to the thing in my hand... Wait, no, this is mine, all mine! It's so pretty, no, you can't have it!\n\nI dash towards who knows where, stomping over purple grass, rubbing the smooth glowing object over my face. It's warm and gentle, I can feel it pulsate in waves of warmth that embrace me completely. This is probably very precious to them, and it might cause serious problems with the locals. No, wait, it was just laying around, I'm sure no one cared.\n\nKnowing it made no sense to consider cares of alien things as they likely had nothing in common with human psycology, then remembering the purple grass, my mind raced in a twisted lock of the unescapable dog chasing the unreachable fox. My body was probably doing the same, as I had no idea where I was going and might as well be going in circles.\n\nWell shit, it seems like that's just the case. I see a big thing ang a small thing just over yonder. My heels dig the ground as I come to an abrupt stop and I can feel the purple grass suffering under my feet. Did they notice me? No, the tiny thing isn't doing that hellish sound. Wait, the big thing moved. It moves! If it moves this way I'm dead. Though it moves slowly. It's not going anywhere, it's just changing shape. What is that? There's a series of pops and gurgles, and one end of the big thing shapes into a point, and from it's fat tip something is coming out. It's far, I can't see well. I crawl my way over the bruised purple grass towards a better view. I hold my warm thingy close to my face for comfort. Something is definitely coming out. Shiny? Are those squiggly things glowing over it?\n\nNo... That can't be. It can't. I refuse this.\n\nThe tiny thing wiggles over the purple grass, produces some sort of transparent film from somewhere inside its body, and picks up with it a large, steamy version of my precious treasure.", "I had a huge headache, only surpassed by the time some dumbass construction worker hit me with a girder. The grass was two feet tall, and like something out of a Dr. Seuss story, the most fitting word being bizarre. And the object, I estimated about 2 lbs. of this weird pinkish material. I looked up into the blinding light and saw not one, but two suns, one blue and the other yellow like our own sun. All these things I saw were so astounding. I stood up, wobbling slightly, and looked around. I discovered a massive lake with a structure made of the same pinkish material that the now glowing object- wait what? It's glowing? I feel it heating up slightly, and tugging, as if trying to escape. I let go and see it hover for a second before hovering slowly in the opposite direction of the lake. \nThe second sun was setting, covering the sky with a blue glow. I had been following the object (which I named Wilson) for hours. At one point he led me across a green river, swarming with these weird, and almost cute little creatures that looked like a grasshopper, catfish, and a salmon had a cute little three-eyed baby. When the sun finally set, Wilson stopped in his tracks and stated something in a strange language. After he finished his speech, he hovered down to the ground and made some sort of bed-like thing appear on the ground. I sat down, and fell into a sleep so deep, not even the acid rain that killed me awakened me.", "\"How did I get here, and where is everyone?\" I asked myself out loud.\n\nThe sky was no longer the Earth blue I have been used to for twenty-five years; there was just something.... different about it. It was not until looking down at the odd item in my hand did I realize something was off. The shape mimicked the velociraptor claw from from one of my favorite movies, \"Jurassic Park\", but was made of some kind of dense metal instead, the thing was significantly heavy for its size of less than six inches. Symbols unfamiliar to me were meticulously carved into the top side of the smooth metal, they were similar to tribal signs commonly seen in the New Zealand culture. I traced the outlines of the symbols with my thumb nail, admiring the precision they were inscribed with; the symbols must have been etched with a machine.\n\nMy eyes focused on the background of my hand, the grass.... it was purple!? A pit formed in my stomach as I grew more uncomfortable with where I was...\n\n\"What the fuck is this?...\"\n\nIn an instant, the sky turned to swirls and began to spin, my stomach became uneasy with nausea, and the sound of familiar music intruded my head. Vision began to fade from my eyes and I thought I would surely pass out, but I fought through the feeling and reopened my eyes.\n\nThere I was, back in Jesse's bedroom with the pipe still in my hand; smoke toked from the half burned chemical that topped off fresh smelling marijuana.\n\n\"See? I told you that shit is intense,\" mocked Jesse.\n\n\"Yea, well, I kinda liked it,\" I replied.\n\n\"Well shit, take another hit, let's blast off again!\"\n\nI never saw myself as one to enjoy hardcore drugs, but DMT brings me to another planet.", "\"Where am I?\" I thought to myself. Everywhere around me, as far as the eye could see, was an endless stretch of purple ground.\n\nI walked through the chilly air and gazed at the white, cloudy sky. The last thing I remember was going to sleep back at home. Was I dreaming? Impossible. I'm pretty sure this is real.\n\nI suddenly noticed the cold object my hand was clenching. I loosened my grip and dropped it to the ground. It looked like a broken steel plate, with markings along the edges. They were periodical like on a clock.\n\nI felt a deep fear. Surely this can't be real?\n\nI picked up the object and ran forward as fast as I could. There was nothing here but a hilly field as far as the eye could see.\n\nI stopped to catch my breath.\n\nThat's when I saw a giant bright flash far beside me in the distance. It lit up the entire field, only to disappear quickly. It was soon to be followed by another one.\n\nI looked up and saw two bolts of light zip to the sky from the direction of the flashes.\n\nA few seconds later, two of the loudest sounds I've ever heard in my life knocked me on my back.\n\nThis is nuts. I'm hallucinating. I'm clearly on drugs. But I don't take drugs. I'm probably having a stroke.\n\nA piercing sound, seemingly coming from above, pierced the area. It became louder and louder until I was laying in a fetal position, with my hands on my ears.\n\nIt too disappeared as quickly as it came, followed by a small gust of wind.\n\nThis is a sick joke. It's gone too f-in far. F this.\n\nI took the object and looked closer at it. At first glance it seemed like a broken steel wheel, but it was too light. There didn't seem to be anything broken about it.\n\nWhat about the symbols? There were eight of them, arranged in a crescent. They were all groups of straight lines but I couldn't make anything of them. \n\nI thought to rub them but nothing happened. Pressing them with my thumb did nothing.\n\nWhat about simultaneously? Two thumbs did nothing. Three fingers nothing.\n\nUsing four fingers, I pressed as hard as I could on four random symbols.\n\nSuddenly I saw white. A searing cold. But only for half a second, a flash.\n\nWhere am I? What is this place?\n\nThere's an endless field of purple. I've never seen such a large field in my life.\n\nWhat's this in my hand? I've never seen this before.\n\n---\n\nThanks for reading :)", "And as I walked, I noticed that everything wasn't as different as I'd first thought. The grass was purple, but it was still grass. Trees had orange bark, but it still had the familiar texture of wood. The colors had changed, sure... but everything felt familiar. Similar. Different, but the same.\n\nThen I noticed something warming my hand. A small metal object, vibrating faintly. I'd picked it up moments ago. Had that been the cause for all of this? Strange symbols glowed on its hilt. They looked foreign, but like everything else here felt familiar. Like someone had written letters backward and upside down and all I needed was a mirror to uncover their meaning.\n\nI continued walking, searching for more. Trees, grass, flowers, rocks. All had similar characteristics but told me nothing more about the ground on which I stood. My gait felt unchanged. The sky was where the sky should be and my body felt no heavier. Why did everything suddenly feel so different? So alien?\n\nI saw another girl waving me over, from across the field. My heart skipped. It was Aeda. Seeing her brought back the memory of where I had been just moments before, in a field not unlike the one in which I currently stood. As a wave of relief rushed through my body, I began running toward her. I still couldn't explain why everything looked so different, but figuring it out would be far easier if I had a friend to help puzzle it out.\n\nMaybe she got stuck here with me! Is it possible that we both got transported to an alien world and would be forced to somehow cope with the circumstances? Did we have a chance at all? Or was this just some sort of alternate reality that I'd set foot in?\n\nAnd as I drew closer to her I noticed something was off. Not only was her skin a different pigment than I remembered, her eye whites black and blonde hair colored brightly blue, but... It looked like she waved backward at me. Without a doubt, her hand moved in the opposite direction it should have. Her elbow led the motion and the hand followed and it was so subtle I shouldn't have made the connection except....\n\nSomething traveled toward her at a frightening pace and met her neck gently. It was the ribbon she'd usually worn fastened to her blouse. She lost it minutes ago, just before I found the metal anomaly.\n\nAs I drew to a stop before Aeda I dropped the metal artifact. The effect was instantaneous. Color returned to order and the natural world came rushing at me. The wind felt forced from my lungs as I moved to speak.\n\n\"Aeda, what-\"\n\n\"Good lord! Ralph! How did you do that?\"\n\nRealizing I must have just appeared out of thin air, I looked down at my feet. A small metallic rod hummed from within the tall grass. I looked at Aeda and grinned.\n\n\"Want to see something wicked?\"" ]	6
	[WP] a sex slave owner has a change of heart.	[ "I was a man once, of 25 years. I had lots of ambition, but little money. I had the novel idea of proposing to my girlfriend, though we were not yet moved out of my parent's flat. I had a steady job washing dishes in a kitchen downtown. It wasn't enough to buy my girl a proper ring, when my fellow dishwasher Tommy said his brother owned a brothel on 4th and Hastings. I met with Tommy, and he immediately liked my ambition, or \"spunk\" as he called it. \n\nIt wasn't long before I moved up the ranks in his brothel. Starting as a simple driver for clientele who had wives and made a home themselves so as to not get caught. I then became the lead maintenance man, cleaning rooms and fixing or \"classing up the joint\". It was a brothel, yes, but Tommy taught me to respect every woman like I would a daughter. I eventually was able to buy not only the ring, 18 fucking karats for my beloved Maria. I bought a home in prestigious Yaletown. I had a boy eventually before my Maria went barren. We named him after my father, James. James was my world. Even after his mother died when he was 9, I catered to his every whim. You know how fathers are. But I was empty inside. This was a few years after Tommy overdosed on heroin, leaving his business to me of all people. His last words when I found him in his owner's suite being \"You have to take care of business. Only you, Jim.\" \n\nBut being a father has become more important to me, I have little more joy in life than seeing little James grow to be a man. I was owner in name only, Tommy's brother was in charge for all intents and purposes. It was a Saturday when I was given my cut for the month from the errand girl that worked for him. I knew cared to know her name. But today was the first day I really looked up at her. Wow. Never had a seen a skin so pale but at the same time fair. She was a classic beauty. Slim, fragile, and elegant. Brown hair down to shoulder length, emitting a fragrance that can only be described as strawberry. And her eyes. They stared into his soul innocently in a way that would make emeralds jealous. I couldn't stop gawking, I was going to come off as creepy but today was the first time I had seen Maria again. \"Here you go, Mr. Kite!\" she said perkily, extending her arm with the envelope full of $100 bills. \"Th...thanks.\" was all my tongue could muster. \n\nMonths turned into years where she would come and go and I'd make small talk about weather, food, music, what have you. I had gotten finally gotten to the stage where she would kiss me goodbye. Not an uncommon thing, however. I asked her out to coffee. James was 12, he could handle himself at this point I thought. Tara was a nice girl, though 15 years my junior. We got along very much like Maria and I did. Making snide remarks, affectionate passes, and general people-watching. \"You should really come down to the house.\" she said reservedly. \"Why's that?\" I responded inquisitively, \"Oh...no reason. Forget I even mentioned it.\" Tara said, nervously brushing her straightened hair from her face while she sipped her cafe latte. But the curiosity had already built. I bid her adieu and dropped her off in front of her house. We shared a lengthy, passionate kiss. She even lifted her leg like in the movies! I chuckled to myself. I can't remember feeling so alive since my last days with Maria. That's when I saw it. As her sweater slipped down her forearm, a bruise. I sent her off and went home. \n\nI poured some whiskey when I got home. I sipped it having dark thoughts of what to make of the bruise. It was 11:31pm, I went to James' room. He was sleeping. I made my way to my car and drove off to the brothel. When I entered I was greeted by a girl with blonde hair and big tits. She could have been on Baywatch. \"I'd like to see Mr. Didomenico. Now.\" I said. \"Right this way, sir.\" She replied obediently, half-nervously. As she lead me upstairs, I was horrified to see what looked like sex dungeons. It wasn't just vanilla BDSM shit either, it was snuff-level stuff. I passed a room where some guy had a knife and a girl was bleeding. I walk in calmly. \"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? LEAVE NOW.\" I bellowed. I broke down Tommy's brother's office suite door. I broke in to see one girl hitting a brown-haired girl with a baseball bat. There was Tommy's brother, pants down, masturbating next to the largest pile of cocaine I had ever seen. He didn't even seem to notice me. \"Hit her harder you fucking slut.\" he said, furiously beating off. \"Chris...\" I nearly sighed. He looked over and so did the girls. The one being hit, it was Tara. I snapped. \"Now, Jim-\" he started but couldn't finish before I had his throat in my hands. I pressed down as hard as I could. His head was more red than a tomato before it turned the most righteous shade of blue I experienced. Lastly, I heard a small click as my grip was made looser and I knew I had crushed his trachea. He lie lifeless. I went over to Tara who was bloodied and beaten. Her face was a crimson mask from the blood and her tits were black and blue. How can someone want to destroy such beauty? I wondered. \"Are you alright?\" I asked. \"No.\" she said, as she reached for my chest. I wrapped her in my arms. \"Let's get out of here,\" I said calmly. \"And burn this place to the ground.\" She nodded her head, in tears.\n\nIt was October 7th when I watched the once proud brothel turned slave dungeon burn with the angriest flames of red, yellow, and orange. \"I love you. Beyond belief. More than you could understand. You remind me of my wife. I want to help you. Can I help you?\" I asked Tara who had not stopped clutching me since we exited. \"I don't think you can...\" she said sobbing, \"How long? How long did this happen?\" I asked her. \"Six...seven years. As long as he was in charge.\" Tara said between sobs. \"Jesus...\" I said guilty in my ignorance and apathy. \"I'm so sorry this happened. That I did this. I'm sorry for everything. Life is a beautiful, gentle thing. I realize that now. You have reminded me of that. And how easily the most elegant of things can be corrupted. I'm sorry.\" I started tearing up. I reached to my side. \"It's over now.\" I said. And it was. Two shots rang out. First her than me. I lay on the concrete bleeding. Now, no one need suffer more. For I was a man once, of 25. ", "“Master, you still need to review your mutual funds portfolio tonight.”\n\n“…In the last 5 hours I’ve met with a financial adviser, balanced my budget, filed my income tax, maxed my retirement contribution for the year, checked over my stock portfolio... Since this morning I have done nothing but read reports and sign papers that will not be looked at until the New Year’s. And now I must also go over my mutual funds as well?”\n\n“Yes Master.”\n\n“….Are you trying to wear me out?”\n\n“I do that every night, Master.” \n\nHe sighed and reminded himself (yet again) to stop trying to match wits with his slave; the number of times he had won over the years could be counted on one hand. Not for the first time he wondered if purchasing a younger, more demure slave might have been the wiser choice. Or at least one couldn’t cut him to shreds at every turn.\n\nHis thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a delicate porcelain plate being slid onto his desk, a small apple perfectly quartered on its glossy surface. The look he gave however resembled that of a young boy when he was told that he had to clean up the new puppy’s accident on the carpet, though he plucked one of the pieces anyways. \n\n“Not even one potato crisp?” \n\n“Your waistline sings praise to your noble sacrifice, Master.” \n\n“I do not think my wallet has quite the same tune,” He groused; his clothes had become to baggy for his improved physique, ever since she took control of his diet (blast that clever doctor of his). “At least I will be done after this.” \n\n“Your sister’s New Year’s greeting card?” \n\n“Gahk-\"\n\n“And I believe your parents wanted you to ring them tonight as well.” \n\n“….”\n\n“Also-“ \n\n“Stop! Just stop, before I strangle you!” He glared at her with pure vehemence. Yes. He most certainly should have purchased someone more obedient. Anyone but her.\n\nAnd then she tilted her head a little from her ever perfect poise, voice lowering ever so slightly, as her ever insincere I Live To Serve You smile curled into something far more…wicked. \n\n“Bedroom fun later, Master. Financials now.” \n\nBy the time his brain managed to restart itself from the rather vivid imagery and memories that it had conjured, she had already glided out of the study. He sighed and reminded himself (yet again) that, yes, she did actually enjoy that sort of thing. And to stop trying to match wits with her. And not for the first he thought wondered if a more demure slave would’ve been the wiser choice. \n\nPerhaps the wiser choice, a voice in the back of his mind replied. \n\nBut most certainly not anywhere near as intriguing.\n\n************************************\n\n<.< Two dark stories, thought something a little more lighter was in order. ", "Some people call me a monster. Well, really, most everyone has called me a monster. The truth is, I own women for a living, and I rent them out. I tried owning guys too, even a few kids, but women are just easiest. Kids are risky business and don't last long. Men fight back too much. Women, they're just livestock I can sell. I've sold several, but I usually rent the bitches out for a day at a time. It's a lucrative business. I own between 6 and 12 bitches at any given time. Occasionally, one will die, get sold, or become more of a problem than it's worth. It keeps the rotation going, getting new ones in occasionally. The newest bitch I just got in is very special. She's from England. 19 years old, pretty little bitch. She came on vacation to see the sights, and Viktor, my main supplier, grabbed her after a night on the town. She isn't special because she's prettier than the other bitches. She will receive special treatment though. No heroin, no beatings. Nothing. She will be treated special for one reason: she's mine. She's not going to be rented to any rich Arab businessmen here on vacation or Ukrainian diplomats here for meetings. She is mine and mine alone. \n\nShe's a perfect match, said the doctor. My heart is working at 37% capacity. I'll be dead within 3 months if I don't get the transplant; the only problem is, I'm not ready to die. I'm going to live for a long time. I'm going to make approximately 17 million euros a year for the next twelve years, doing exactly what I'm doing, then I'm going to live in a mansion on the Mediterranean Sea till I'm 80, and it's thanks to my private bitch. " ]	3
	[WP] Every year, at the precise moment the new year begins, every person on the planet permanently loses their memory of the past year. You alone are immune to this.	[ "At first, it had been so easy.\n\nHeck, 2015.1 was very enjoyable. 2015.2 even better. 2015.3 was the best—for sure—but after that everything went to shit pretty quick.\n\nThe first time it happened—that was 2015.1—things were pretty confusing, sure. Allan was with his family, watching Anderson Cooper narrate the Ball Drop. They'd done the same thing last year—that was an important detail—and so at first he didn't even notice the reset. They counted down. The ball hit. The fireworks lit. Everyone in Times Square kissed. Anderson Cooper wished everyone everyone a happy New Year. Allan popped the champagne, everyone started to drink. It was, really, a typical Newman New Years. And then, cue Allan's mom.\n\n\"Wait, that's weird. These hats have the wrong year.\"\n\nThey had cheesy New Years hats that everyone wore because, you know, New Years. Allan took off his hat. Nope. 2016. All good.\n\n\"Huh. You're right. Shouldn't they say 2015?\"\n\nThat was his aunt. His brother next. Then the rest of the family. At first Allan wrote it off as some weird joke. He tried to get into it for his family's sake—he didn't mind playing into the laughter. Later, he'd wish he never opened his mouth: \"Haha, funny. 2015 was so last year.\"\n\nNo one laughed.\n\n\"Allan... What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean, it's 2016 now, obviously.\"\n\nHis aunt looked over, eyes scrunched and mouth slightly ajar, as if not quite sure of how to phrase her response.\n\n\"Allan, it's 2015. The hats should say 2015 now.\"\n\nWhat the fuck.\n\n\\#\\#\n\nBy the next morning, the reset was clear. Allan's entire family. All his friends. Everyone on Facebook, on Twitter, on Reddit, all genuinely thought it was 2015, again. He didn't know why, or how. For a few hours he thought he was the crazy one, that he'd dreamed up a whole year or something. In truth, he didn't figure out the truth until the stories started pouring in.\n\nAll across the world there were these strange news reports of people magically appearing at New Years parties they hadn't gone to. Some people suddenly appeared at Times Square, swearing they were celebrating at home that year. Others recollected bouncing across the country as the clock struck twelve. It took Allan a bit to figure it out, but in the end he did. Everyone had just forgotten 2015. The theory made sense. Those that claimed to suddenly have \"appeared\" in Times Square had actually celebrated New Years there this year, but had celebrated elsewhere the year before. When the reset occurred, their memories wiped, it appeared from their perspectives as though they'd just bounced from their 2014 New Years party to their 2015 party, at Times Square. Some stories were even more absurd, helping to further confirm the theory. Several families woke up in homes they didn't remember owned—Allan reasoned these families had moved during 2015. Plenty more families woke up to new infants—in many instances the mothers had been pregnant during the previous year's party. In more sad cases, relatives just disappeared—they'd died and been buried over the course of the year.\n\nThe world was confused. And Allan was the only one who'd figured it out.\n\nOf course, not much happened in 2015. And so, although everyone was confused, things returned to normal pretty quickly. People cast aside their strange stories—years later, it still never ceases to amaze Allan just how quickly people can forget these kinds of things all in the name of that strange human effort to force the world to make sense. Because that's all it was. People dismissed their own stories, casually chalking them up to temporary insanity, and then got on with their lives. It's just what we do, he reasoned.\n\nAllan, on the other hand, quickly took advantage of the situation. 2015.0—as he dubbed it—had been shit, but 2015.1 didn't have to be. He asked out that cute girl from Sales whose interest in him he'd only learned about at the end of 2015.0. He quickly secured the promotion that, with perfect 20/20 (20/15, maybe) hindsight he new his boss was eying him for. It was like he could read minds, and—to quote Allan Newman himself—it fucking rocked.\n\n2015.2 was disappointing at first—realizing the reset might be permanent—but, ever the opportunist, Allan took it upon himself to make it the best 2015 on record. The same for 2015.3.\n\nHe quickly learned to game the world. And life was good.\n\n\\#\\#\n\nIn 2015.4, Allan realized the reset was linked to 12:00 EST, so from then on he celebrated New Years in California and at least got to enjoy the after party before \"clean up\" began.\n\nSee, it's surprisingly easy for people to wave away a year of technological advance. We always think of humanity as progressing at light-speed into the future, but there are really only 24 hours in a day, and only 365 days in a year, so a year's worth of advancement really isn't enough to trip our psychologically ingrained sense of change-blindness. At least that was Allan's reasoning, based on that semester of psych he took in college.\n\nSure, in 2015.1 people woke up a bit dazed and confused. They woke up in strange places to a world with the iPhone 6s, with a very fresh Reddit front page, and with gimmicky hoverboards that weren't really hoverboards. But, of course, people adapted. The dismissed the oddities and got on with living. Tim Cook patted himself on the back for an iPhone he didn't remember releasing. Basketball players continued to roll around on these handle-less segways they didn't remember purchasing. In some peculiar twist of collective ignorance—another term from Allan's semester of psych—no one wanted appear crazy and so everyone just kept their mouths shut and pretended nothing was weird. \n\nWhat the fuck?\n\n\\#\\#\n\nAround 2015.12 things began to go seriously awry. It was no longer the iPhone 6s but the iPhone 12. The world literally woke up to hoverboards. And a fucking cure for some obscure form of cancer. A threshold had been passed and there was no going back. In 2015.12 the world woke up. Just, unlike Allan, the world couldn't remember its dream.\n\nEvery newspaper covered the confusion. There was mass hysteria. A stock market crash (what confidence can people have in a market that inflates 12 years in one night?). Everyone wanted to know how long this had been happening for—the government figured that out pretty quickly by tracing the records. They wanted to know how it was happening—no one could figure that out. They wanted to know what they could do about it—\n\n—Allan had the answer to the last part.\n\nOh fuck, if only he'd kept his mouth shut.\n\n\\#\\#\n\n\"Okay Allan.\" That was president Clinton speaking.\n\nHe was seated at a conference table. It was 2015.14. Around the table, all the big dogs. Clinton. Putin. Justin Trudeau. All the major powers who mattered.\n\n\"Tell us,\" Clinton continued, \"My aids tell me this is the 14th reset. Where is the world at?\"\n\n2015.14, just like .12 and .13, was going to be a long year for Allan Newman.\n\n\\#\\#\n\nIt's 2015.61. Allan's 96. He's still at the annual conference table. By now he brings a computer. It had most of the data they need. He's just there to give the initial briefing—he's the only one who knows everything—and in case there are any lingering questions.\n\nBy now, all of the important things—the corporate documents and state secrets and whatnot—are on carefully guarded databased. All of the information is safe. That said, no one knows the information. No one but Allan. Allan Newman, keeper of every state secret, ever. A weird story indeed.\n\nBy this point, they've long since realized the reset only applies to episodic memory. That's good. It means even though no one in the world below the age of 61 can remember, at this point, where they live or where they work or what they do, they still recall how to ride a bike. How to do math (the mathematicians even remember calculus and linear algebra and whatnot). How to do their job. They remember the hows just fine. That's good, Allan thinks. Sure, relationships are very hard to maintain. Raising a child is exceptionally difficult because no one remembers their names or what they like to do or how they're doing in school by the time they get back from Christmas break. But that's alright, he figures.\n\nThey don't need to remember what. As long as they can remember how, they're not totally fucked.\n\n\\#\\#\n\nIt's 2015.62. Allan is dead.\n\nThey're all totally fucked.", "On the 31st of December, I invited a beautiful blonde thing up to my suite. \"We are gonna bring in the New Year right,\" I told her. She arrived at 10:00, a little late if you ask me, but there was still enough time if I hurried. I prepared her a glass of champagne and we talked about the job. \"The show was going so well, she kept saying, gushing at me. She was a new intern but she liked me, I could tell. When she stumbled over her words, slurred like a little blonde puppy, \"Can please you fill my glass with more?\", I knew she was having a good time. I went to the kitchen to prepare her another glass of champagne.\n\nAt 11:59 I began to kiss her, because after years of this, I knew what was to come. Our tongues danced bachata - or maybe a quirky dance like Phylicia did so well - as all of Times Square counted down from 10. As the people on TV cried \"Happy New Year,\" I suggested we head to my room. Chin dropped, mouth open, eyes staring at me, she didn't say anything. I led her to my room, it would be ours for the night.\n\nIn the morning as she was beginning to rustle under the sheets, I said, \"Baby, Hi. Welcome to the New Year.\"\n\n\"Bill, what the fuck? Where am I?\"\n\n\"Baby, this is the New Year. Didn't you know everyone loses their memory when the clock strikes 12:00 am?\"\n\n\"I've never fucking heard of that Bill.\"\n\n\"Baby, chill. Of course you haven't heard of it, because you are always forgetting it! And please, call me Mr. Huxtable. I like that.\"\n", "The night started well. We planned on having a few drinks at home, and then we'd head to our favourite bar for a glass of champagne, watch the fireworks and head home.\n\nTo be honest, I wasn't expecting Alanna to want to go out tonight given what had happened last year on this day. \"What were you thinking of Ed?\", she said, her face flush with wine made her animated eyes sparkle more than usual. You'd say she was almost crying if you didn't know her.\n\n\"Oh, nothing really\" I responded playfully batting away the hand she'd waved in front of my eyes to disturb me from my reverie.\n\n\"It looked like you were miles away for a minute there\" she said.\n\n\"I was just thinking how proud I was of you for how far you'd managed to come since last year\" I said. \"It was a bit touch and go for a while wasn't it?\". I could say it now, but it used to haunt me. For months on end I'd think back to New Year's Eve 2014 and the recollection always made me shudder. Except today, something seemed different. Like the world felt almost a little \"real-er\" than it usually did.\n\nWe're at the bar now, glasses of champagne in hand and the clock's about to strike midnight. I glance over at Alanna. It's been a long time since I've seen her and thought she was beautiful. But tonight, there was no denying it. She looked exquisite.\n\n\"DING\" goes the clock and someone cries \"make a wish\". I instantly know what I'd wish for. And for a fleeting moment, I fervently ask any cosmic power that may be out there to grant it.\n\nAlanna looks at me and smiles. I don't feel so well though. I see her smiling eyes grow concerned and she mouths \"let's go\" to me. I grimace, and nod in affirmation turning to head out. It was probably all the wine.\n\nOutside, the winter air is refreshing against my face. I recover from my discomfort momentarily, only for the memory of last year to hit me with a bang louder than any fireworks. Sobbing, I fall to my feet.\n\n\"Ed, darling, what is it?\" She asks alarmed.\n\n\"I'm sorry, I just couldn't help thinking about our baby\" I reply. A year ago today, we'd found out she was pregnant and miscarried on the same day. Our world grew by one for 24 hours, and just like that, it was taken away.\n\n\"Baby? Ed, what baby? We've been through this already. I told you it'd be a miracle if I were able to have one remember?\"\n\nSuddenly, that wish didn't seem like such a good idea after all.", "You will forget the contours of the cartoon\n\n(Though you unlikely ever saw it) \n\nOf a brown man with his eyes askew and his long, hooked nose,\n\nBut who, in another incarnation, wished for all to be gentle and to forgive,\n\nAnd the rifle rounds fired in his name, \n\nThe popping heard through the too thin walls \n\nOf too small twentieth century apartments\n\nAnd as far away as Galeries LaFayette,\n\nWhich seems as if a mandala,\n\nWhen alighted in the evenings.\n\nYou will not recall the calls of crowds marching\n\nPast pawn shops and Little Caesar's restaurants\n\nFor the legacy of men known only for dying on their bellies\n\nIn patchy parks with trim grass and tall oak trees,\n\nBut barbed wire too,\n\nOr in secret compartments, pulled by big, blue vans \n\nThat drive only to Tartarus,\n\nOr in a holy vestibule, after the mass was over,\n\nWhere they first invited him to pray with them.\n\nYou will find unfamiliar the face of the little girl\n\nWith cheeks reddened by salty Mediterranean wind\n\nAnd a pink Dora jacket reeking of the rubber raft,\n\nWho felt her father's shoulders at last fall in a grateful sigh,\n\nOnly to see him stabbed for Doritos, later in the pens.\n\nYou will forget, most of all, how your heart never truly ached for them, \n\nBut only pricked up when a redhead ran from dinosaurs \n\nOr the same great heroes joined as one, once more,\n\nOr a beautiful girl cut the chains from victims.\n\nYou said Hello and Sorry so many times,\n\nBut never to someone who needed to hear it.\n\n*\n\nYou think you will not remember because this is the nature of memories,\n\nThat they must inevitably break free of you each winter,\n\nLike wispy, green saplings from wet spring dirt.\n\nYou do not realize you forget only what you chose to,\n\nAnd that after the sprinkling confetti and cups of kindness,\n\nWhen you see her, and force a kiss\n\nWith lips chapped from shouting at cab drivers and doormen,\n\nEvery year, you again choose only yourself.\n\n/r/opinionsaboutnothing", "My eyes cracked open on the morn of January 1st, and a smile spread across my face. My happiness only rose as I turned over in my bed to see my husband lying next to me, still snoring and fast asleep. Our son had been born exactly one year ago, at midnight on January 1st, so today was his birthday party. I rolled out of bed, stepping into my slippers and planting a gentle kiss on my husband's forehead. He didn't stir. \n\nI walked out of my bedroom, stretching my arms out. Luckily my son was asleep as I walked into the nursery. He's probably hungry, I thought as I glanced at the firetruck clock on the blue painted wall. It is eight, after all. In preparation for my son's party today, my husband and I had gone to sleep right after midnight, so our sleep schedules weren't exactly off. \n\nI reached my arms into the crib, stroking a strand of curly dark hair that was resting across my son's face. \"Good morning Dorian,\" I said in my sing-song, maternal voice. His beautiful blue eyes opened, and immediately he started blubbering. Quickly I picked him up, holding him over my shoulder and patting his back. Eventually he calmed down, but only when I gave him his bottle. \n\nI looked into Dorian's eyes, and he didn't look at me. His eyes were at my neck, and they looked empty and lacking all emotion. It was like he had just been born again or something, needing to learn everything all over again. Shaking away these strange thoughts, I walked down the stairs holding Dorian—who held his own bottle. \n\nI set my son in his high chair and starting cooking breakfast. Eating as a family had been a staple ever since my husband and I started fighting, when Dorian was six months. We would talk about our day in the evening and what we hoped for said day in the morning. The smell of bacon must've awakened my husband, because a few minutes later, I heard footsteps overhead.\n\n\"Alex?\"\n\nI turned around, and my husband was staring at Dorian like he was an alien. \"Yes, Alan?\"\n\n\"What—why is there a baby here? You're supposed to be at the hospital, right?\" He looked at me, and then he was staring at me like I was an alien. \"No? What's happening?\" His voice rose into a wary wail, terrified of what was happening to him.\n\nI, on the other hand, was confused with his reaction to this seemingly normal day. \"That's our son, Alan. What are you talking about? He was born last year today! It's his birthday!\"\n\nAlan drew a shaky breath. \"I don't remember that. I remember waiting for you to give birth at the hospital! I remember wanting to see my son!\" His voice was rising on hysterical, and Dorian started to cry at his concerned tone. I swooped past my husband and picked up the baby.\n\n\"Well, I do remember. You must've hit your head,\" I said in a stubborn tone.\n\nIt turns out I was horribly wrong.\n\n\n\n\n", "Everybody is in bed, they went to sleep even before the ball dropped. I decided to stay up and watch the entertainment as everybody in Time Square forgets what happened. Not me though, I remember everything. I go up the stairs, stop in front of my sons room. He'll never remember all the times we've bonded this past year, all the times we've passed the baseball back and forth in the yard, all the times I've sat up at night with him because he decided to watch a horror movie, and most of all...me. ", "\n\n10 minutes and I couldn't wait. Just 10 more minutes until I got my clean slate. I wished to be like everyone else. I didn't forget, I couldn't forget. \n\nAt 00.00 everyone's memory went straight back to December 31 1999 11.59. The world had been so concerned that the millennium bug would shut down computers, causing chaos in hospitals, power stations, and banks. What they hadn't realised was that it was our brains that wouldn't be able to cope.\n\nIt didn't take long for the scientists to realise, and it didn't take them much longer to realise there was nothing they could do about it.\n\n5 more minutes, just 5 more minutes and the world would have its fresh start. Everyone would forget the terrorist attacks, the dirty politics, the hatred in the world. \n\nIt's amazing the unexpected changed that had occurred. Hospitals were filled with robotic doctors and nurses, as no one was able to complete med school anymore. Schools had become a haven, full of creativity and fun, because why learn algebra when in 12 months it would be forgotten. There would be peace, no more wars, that is until everyone found out who they were fighting against, even if they couldn't remember why. \n\n1 more minute, just 1 more minute and my family would forget, forget what I had done, the awful thing I had done. They would love me again, wonder where I was, want to hold me in their arms. \n\nFamily histories had become common place, mostly DVDs, but sometimes written in massive family archives. Added to each year, so that personal and world wide events would not be forgotten. People would spend New Year's Day learning who had got married, who had died and who had been born. They would cry together, laugh together, and love together. \n\n1 year, just 1 more year, and my sins will be forgotten, and I will be loved again. 1 year. \n", "You know, I never really liked New Years. For the average person it was just a night to get drunk and party. I could get behind that. I was different though, as it turns out the collective human race had been living in the year 2015 for the past forever. When the ball drops, everyone forgets about the year before and starts working on the new 2015 like NOTHING had gone on in the past year. \n\nI was the only person who didn't have this happen. I remembered the past 24 2015s, every waking moment of them. When I was younger I didn't get what was going on, but now I was old enough to get it. I had learned to get things done within a year if I wanted to keep people working on them, but sometimes that wasn't enough. \n\nAlyssa and I had stayed in tonight, we were spending time together instead of out with people. I didn't mind, I'd spent the past six years at Jake's New Years Parties and he never learned that the jello shots were a horrible idea. We'd just finished watching a movie on Netflix. I knew that I could go meet her tomorrow at the coffee shop and we would hit it off again, but I didn't want this to be over. Not for the third time in a row.\n\n\"Want to watch the ball drop?\" she asked. There was hope in her voice, but she knew that I wasn't a fan of the holiday. Last year I had tried being one but it hadn't changed anything. I didn't need to see a timer that told me when everyone would forget about the past year. None of the memories that we made mattered, everyone just said they were born a year earlier and had a new set of thoughts to match. \n\n\"We might have missed it,\" I pointed out. I knew it was a lie, but I wasn't up for a big conversation.\n\n\"Nah, it's 11:58,\" she replied.\n\n\"Oh joy.\"\n\n\"Why don't you like new years?\"\n\n\"I suck at resolutions.\"\n\n\"We have two minutes to get you a good one.\"\n\n\"I don't want a good one,\" I pointed out,\"I just want to meet a cute girl in a coffee shop.\"\n\n'You can't do that one, you did that this year.\" She wore a smile better than anyone else I knew.\n\n\"Yeah, I did.\"" ]	8
	[WP] There is an intruder in your house, but you don't call the police just yet...	[ "I can' quite get the formatting correct from my word processor. Sorry I'm new! This is only my second post! Here goes:\n\n“I can pick most locks with a credit card.” says the creepy face on the TV. Its just another horrible commercial scaring people into buying a security system. The “winter blahs” are setting in so by 5pm it’s dark and you’re burning away the evening hours on the couch with your wife and three cats watching terrible weekday night TV until you begrudgingly drag yourself up the stairs to bed. All the while you realize that of you turn in now, you’re that much closer to facing another boring day at the office.\n“I know it’s only 8:30 but I’m going up to bed. I’m tired,” says your wife. “Cool, I’m not ready to give up just yet. I’ll hang out a little more and shut the rest of the lights off and lock up, before I come up.” you reply. The next few hours are spent playing video games. Looking down at your watch you see it’s already midnight. It’s so easy to lose track of time playing this damn game! It also doesn’t help that most of the lights were already off in the house leaving no distractions while you fully absorb into the game. Suddenly theres an odd click-clacking coming from the back door off the kitchen. It’s curious since this door is always locked. Before you get up to inspect, you pause your game and begin stretching your neck from the couch to get a better look at the door in the darkened kitchen. Only barely discernible is a slight shape of something or someone by the door. In an instant the lock releases and the door swings open slowly. Cautiously, the intruder closes the door and begins to creep. Clearly the light from the TV wasn’t evident from the window otherwise this person wouldn’t have even attempted his crime. “HEY!!” you yell. Startled, he springs upright and makes an attempt to backtrack to the door. Flinging yourself over the coffee table, you blindly rush towards his shape. With a mix of blind rage and adrenaline you tackle the intruder. Now fully on top of the man you hold his neck with one hand while your other is clenched in a fist raining blow after blow into his face. You have him subdued by the time your wife makes her way down the stairs. She has a bat in her hand. “Another one?” she asks. In a very graceful way she glides across the floor in her pajamas. She approaches while you have him pinned down. As if to pray she gently kneels down by his head. The man begins to scream. Then abruptly and all at once your wife begins jabbing the end of the bat full force into the man’s skull until it splits apart like a watermelon at that terrible comedian’s show. You sigh, “Go get the contractor bags and the bleach. I’ll get the rest after I'm done digging ANOTHER hole out back.”\n\nThis guy picked the wrong house.", "The air is chilly in the house, she has her cat on her queen size bed and glances over to her clock. 2:47 A.M. Her operation for the Cochlear Implant is at 9 in the morning. Her life will be normal, soon. All she has to do is get some sleep. Tomorrow is figuratively a new beginning for her. She got up, motioned for her cat to follow her down the stairway and began her journey at 2:49 A.M. \n\nShe didn't hear him come in the back door and disable her alarm, she didn't hear the foot steps up to her room, nor did she hear him creep into her master bathroom. When she left down the stair way, he waited. She walked towards her kitchen and flicked on her faucet. He tied his ropes on the head and foot board, setup his camera, and took a viagra pill to keep himself stimulated until he was mentally finished. Along with her cup of water although, she brought in her paring knife.\n\nWhat she noticed were the little things: the drape caught in the sliding door, the open security key panel, her carpet scrunched up from a step. Her cat knew better, and she was meticulous about how her home was kept. She wasn't letting someone get in the way of her chance to be normal, or take her life without a fight. Her dad used to play chess a lot, he told her after she panicked and lashed out in the game , \"When your nervous or frightened, the best thing you can do is: stay calm and think\". With this, she grabbed her best weapon; her fruit paring knife, with it she felt collected enough to go back upstairs. Her daily work out routine might have given her enough strength to take this person on. She walks back into her room, but someone has been on her bed because the other side of her blankets are untucked. Pretending not to notice, she walks into her bathroom. None is in here with her, they must be in her closet vanity next to her bed or under it. She looks at her mirror and on it is her reassurance post it. \"Who are you?\", it says. She lets out a silent sob and her mouth words, \"Who am I?\"\n\nShe lays down, and her cat waltz back into the room and climbs at her feet. They lay there, in the darkness, for ten minutes. 3:09 A.M. The vanity door creaks open, and he takes a step out knowing she can't hear him. What let her know was her cat. He got up and took off, she lays there waiting for him to climb on top of her. She could feel someone's hand creep behind the headboard and could smell the fast food on his breath. Her fist swings out and lands on his nose. She feels his hand go for her neck and hot liquid begins to drip on her. His weight is forcing down on her. He fumbles for his zipper, and she goes for the knife in her bra line. The blade cuts her bra, but also finds his neck. She feels the thick warm liquid on her chest and forces him on the floor. The lamp follows suit and lands on the ground, it flickers once and she can see were his face is. She grabs the clock. 3:15 A.M. \n\nThe clock is on the floor, pieces of the face lay scattered on her pearl colored carpet. He lays motionless on ground with the paring knife in his neck. His face is unrecognizable with pieces of the face mask mixed with the meat viscera. The bloody foot prints lead out of her room, down her stairs, and straight to the kitchen phone. She stripped out of her night clothes and wore a quilt blanket around herself, only her panties on. Her hair was messed up but she was collected. Waiting for the police to come, she sits on her front steps. Upstairs, her cat walks into the room. It \"bumps\" the camera down from the shelf it was placed. Then, goes over to the body. You can hear it eating the body from the tape, but she can't. Maybe tomorrow, she will. Maybe...", "\"R-ronald mcdonald?\" \n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"What ars you doing in my house?\"\n\n\"You're dreaming\"\n\n\"I cant be. I have a boner.\"\n\n\"Dude. Really?\"\n\n\"Yeah, i was just masturbating when i heard you come in\"\n\n\"Well, we might as well take care of that, right?\"\n\nRonald mcdonald grabbex my hand and led us back to my room.\n\n\"Okay, now i must be dreaming because im lovin it\".", "I have the intruder tied up to a chair. Skinny guy, so I probably didn't have to restrain him so much, but you never know. They say some people gain almost superhuman strength when the adrenaline is at an all time high. I used five rolls of duct tape on him. One on each leg, one on his hands behind the chair, one around his stomach, and one around his chest. Had to gag him with something, and an old pair of underwear was all that was available. Pretty gross, I know, but I'll just throw them away after.\n\n\"You were going to steal from me. But now. I am going to steal from you. First I will steal your food.\"\n\nI'm no medical doctor, but I have a rough idea of where food is stored. We put it into our mouths, which are a part of our head. So I imagine that the food is stored somewhere in our skull. \n\nI remove the top of his skull. You should have seen his eyes when I started. Wide as saucers. What a scaredy cat. Worst case scenario, he can always go to a shelter and get a free meal. It's not so bad. \n\nI'm a little annoyed to see there is no food in there. Now that I think about it, the food must actually fall down the throat, and land somewhere in the stomach. No problem, I can get it out of there later.\n\nThere are a few things in that skull though. Things I plan on taking.\n\nI see some dreams towards the back. Of a family, and friends, and a good job. Nothing too fancy. I dig those out, and put them on my shelf, next to my cotton candy machine. There's an idea. I may add the dreams to the cotton candy, sell them to the neighborhood children. I don't really need them.\n\nNear the front are some fears. On the one hand, I don't need any. On the other hand, I did tell him I was going to steal from him. I just take out a few. There is a fear of dogs. Maybe that's where he got that horrible lip scar. Childhood throw down with a dog. Oh, and a fear of clowns. I didn't know that was a real thing. I take both out, and place them in a plastic bag.\n\nHe is crying now. \n\n\"Why are you crying? You came to take my things, you should have more empathy for thing takers, shouldn't you?\"\n\nI do start feeling bad for him though. It is in his nature to steal. It is not in my own.\n\n\"Ok, that's enough. I hope you've learned your lesson. I'll feed you some supper, and then have the police come and get you. I won't press charges as long as you agree to counseling, and community service. Does that sound fair?\"\n\nI go to my fridge to see what there is to give the young man. Slices of turkey. Half an apple pie. Oh! A goldfish bowl, full of water and aquatic ants. That should fill him up. I take the bowl and bring it over. Some of the gooshy stuff in his head makes it hard to fit the entire bowl in, but I eventually get it down in there. Some of the gooshy stuff falls out, but it was gross anyways. Imagine walking around with that stuff in your head.\n\n\"You should see a doctor after this. You have gooshy stuff in your head. Maybe the food will help.\"\n\nHe doesn't respond. His eyes are closed. His chest isn't doing that thing, where it goes up and down. He might be sleeping.\n\nI put the top of his head back on, and tape it on with some more duct tape. I call 911, and start making dreamy cotton candy.", "The lock gave way instantly under the blow, and the sound of the door bursting open reached the office, where I waited for the inevitable. I entertained the thought of calling the cops, but couldn’t even muster a dark chuckle. \n\nI heard them sweeping through the first floor, searching. They wouldn’t find anything down there though. I might not have been perfect in covering my tracks, but I wasn’t dumb, and I had been awaiting this moment since I heard they grabbed Tony three days ago. The only surprise was that it took them so long. \n\nMost would have used that time to escape, but I was tired of running, of fear, of nights without sleep, of threats to myself and my family. As the stairs creaked with footsteps, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. \n\nThe room where I would die wasn’t pretty. It was the frantic combination of an amphetamine junkie’s cleanliness with his supplier’s clutter of loose bills and old prescription bottles. Sparkling surfaces that couldn’t outshine the diseases created on them. The rifle was already in my hands, but I had removed the bullets the day before. I had enough blood on my hands without adding triggers to my tally. \n\nI listened as they progressed through the hallway, clearing one room at a time. I aimed towards the door as it exploded inwards. The SWAT team reacted precisely as trained upon encountering an armed unknown in a drug bust. " ]	5
[Inspired by this](https://www.reddit.com/r/whowouldwin/comments/3xz1x4/you_wake_up_with_a_baby_strapped_to_your_back_and/) The time it takes for an enemy to appear does not have to be a minute.	[WP] You wake up with a baby strapped to your back and a Lightsaber in hand. Every minute or so, A person/creature or thing appears trying to kill you.	[ "My name is Jacor Grace, and my mission must be completed. On my back is one of the last potential Jedi the Galaxy may ever know, and it is my job to protect him. He is light but fragile, and the Dark Side's power is strong. They send their monsters after me, forcing me to run, day and night, for what feels like an eternity. I am constantly fighting, protecting my charge from the evils of the Sith. But I can not keep up. Soon I will fall, as my master did before me, and her master before her. My light saber is cold and sweaty, made so from my constant death-grip on it. If I were to let go for even a second, I would die. My mind wanders, tormented from my sleep deprived state. I see the shadows leap and the world crumble around me, and I do not know if what I see is real anymore. I slay them all the same, for that risk is one I cannot afford to take. And as I duck into this alley, desperately hoping for respite, I hear the shrieking of the Silver Menace. My light saber harmlessly bounces off of its star shield, and in that moment I know my journey is over.\n\nI have failed.", "Nylon straps dug into my shoulders. On my back sat a child, no older than one, holding a whimsical lollipop in his hand. \n\nIs this a dream? \n\nIt can’t be...I can feel the warmth of the child on my back.\n\nI don’t know how I got there. I woke standing, with a child for a backpack and a lightsaber in my right hand. The only logical conclusion is that I drank way too much at the theater and I passed out during the first part of The Force Awakens. \n\nA loud chime split the air and forced its way through my ears. My spine rattled. \n\nThe previously dark hallway became visible as lights flashed seemingly from nowhere. The brick floor, now visible, was clean, maybe new. To my right was darkness, nothingness. To my left, a mural of a shady street scene. Faux graffiti met with pictures of cheering bystanders and blurred storefronts. \n\nFight!\n\nA voice boomed through the room as a young woman, scantily dressed in a yellow skirt charged me. I had little time to react. All those years of chasing my brother in the toy aisle at walmart finally paid off. I pressed the button on my lightsaber and swung violently. In a fiery mess, the young woman split from her right waist to her left shoulder. A look of fear overcame her as she fell to the floor, still awake as she realized what happened. \n\nThe baby on my back began to laugh. Seemingly of its own will the lightsaber in my right arm moved in a figure eight pattern. My left hand and body followed suit and I found myself acting out some sort of martial arts scene. As suddenly as the movements began I froze in a final “Enter the Fist” style pose. \n\nWhat the fuck was that?\n\nThe room went black. \n\nWake up. Wake up. Wake up. \n\nWhy can’t I wake up?\n\nI fought to move my hands and arms. Fought to gain control of my body. \n\nNothing. \n\nMoments later the chime returned. Three pulses, just as before. Light filled the room. \n\nI was ready this time. I turned on my lightsaber and quickly surveyed the room. \n\nThe floor changed to asphalt in the darkness. To my left was an idyllic beach, and to my right, the abyss. \n\nNo more than 5 seconds from when the light returned…\n\nFight!\n\nThis time it was no teenage girl. A man. No. A skeleton wrapped in skin stood before me. His skin stretched tightly over his body, seemingly devoid of any fat or tissue. \n\n“Please stay back” I yelled. \n“I have no interested in fighting you”\n\nA loud pounding noise came from my right and shook the very ground I stood on. I stabilized myself as I fell to my knees. \n\nAs I regained my balance and looked up. The man was floating cross-legged towards me, a good foot above the ground. \n\n“Stay back!”\n\nFear overcame me, engulfed my body. My veins turned to ice and my panic forced my movement. I swung down from above my head. With a flicker of light the man was out of my reach and I out of his. On his feet now his leg stretched toward me in a kick. His foot made contact with my chin, knocking me on my ass. \n\nHow the hell did he kick me, he was too far away.\n\nBlood and pain. \n\nThis can’t be a dream.\n\n“Fuck you!”\n\nI charged. Anger and fear overwhelming me. He darted left, right. His movements were like nothing I've seen before. With a flicker of light he was behind me. But I knew he would be… I don’t know how, but I knew. I swung wide as I whirled around, cutting the demon in half. Coldness filled me as the room went dark once again. \nI liked it. No, loved it. I felt strong. \n\nTo be continued...\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Wife knows about husbands affair but remains silent. It is decidedly to her advantage.	[ "\"Hey, don't burn those eggs again, you hear me?\" she says.\n\nMy ears perk up and my legs turn to jelly.\n\n\"You seem awfully excited today, dear. Did something good happen?\" my wife asked me during breakfast this morning.\n\nAmelia's pouty lips are stretched in a big, warm grin. Bright blue eyes filled with interest melded with the sky in the window behind here. A firm hand pressed against her soft, white skin. \n\nWhy, even her blonde hair seemed to be singing a song of joy that spring morning, as the little wavy strands bounced and bobbed down her shoulders.\n\nShe's giving me \"the look.\"\n\nIt's the look of pure, unbridled rage.\n\nMy arms shook and legs quivered as I stood hunched over the frying pan. We were having eggs today. She always did like eggs. Scrambled, she says. With a bit of salt and pepper beaten in more than a little roughly Me, I couldn't stand the taste at all. But if it was for her, hey, it's the least I could do. Right?\n\nI shake my head together for a response. History has always said that the winning move to any game was simply not to play at all. Maybe, for once, if I didn't respond, she wouldn't continue to press? I'm feeling pretty good about myself today, don't want to ruin that feeling.\n\n\"Hey, now. Walty. I'm talking to you, you know? Something up?\" the words accompany the scruffling sound and mashing of papers. Must've gotten up early to get the newspaper or something.\n\nWait, Walty? Walty?\n\nOh god, it's a cute nickname again.\n\nI'm really going to get it this time.\n\nI let my shoulders relax, but I could still feel that sharp cold pierce against the back of my neck. My heartbeat hastens, and it's as if time slows down... This gives me an opportunity though. Maybe, I could change the subject on this.\n\nYeah, that'll work.\n\nI open my mouth, it's as dry as a desert, \"Anything interesting in the paper, Mrs. Mayor?\"\n\nAmelia clicks her tongue, \"Nothing really. Just a bunch of boring scandalous editorials about me and you again... Sale on spatulas. Local suicide-awareness week thing. Err... sale on eggs. Wow, this newspaper is boring... Oh, a fire broke out at that one coffee-store downtown the other day! Injured six. Gas explosion.\"\n\n\"Jesus. That bad, huh?\"\n\nOh thank god, I'm saved. My ears pick up the sound of paper rustling again. She must be really interested in the story or something. Right?\n\nI turn my head.\n\nShe's giving me a warm smile and a cold death-stare. That freezing feeling on my spine spills over. I'm stuck like a deer in the headlights.\n\nAmelia doesn't seem to notice though. Her icy eyes keeps me locked down and unable to flee.\n\n\"You know, speaking of that coffee-shop. I saw something really, really interesting going on at that bookstore across the street from it yesterday.\"\n\n\"I can only imagine,\" I lie.\n\nThat's my only reply... Seriously? Shit.\n\n\"Yeah, yeah. You know that girl that lives next-doors? The dogsitter we had last December?\"\n\nI know exactly who she's talking about, \"I don't know who you're talking about?\"\n\n\"It kinda looked like you were fucking her when I came into the bookstore's restroom to check the place out.\"\n\n...\n\nHoly shit.\n\nWhat do I say to that? I don't know what to say to that. She's still staring at me. Someone please help me. Please. Please. For the love of God. Help me.\n\nAs if in response, the smoke detector goes off. I return my eyes to the frying pan in my hands and yelp. The stench is horrendous. The thick clod of black smoke fills my eyes and turns them watery and red with a hot, burning sensation. My stomach twists and turns a little inside, from the smoke or the footsteps of my wife coming up behind me, I don't know.\n\nAmelia, I don't know when, she grabs a fan and flaps it all away to the window at the sink close-by. Neighbor's will be hearing talking about that when they see it.\n\nI'm hacking and wheezing all over the place. The pan was still heating up on the burning stove. The ashes were getting into my nose and throat something fierce. Hell, I'm still panicking while the woman's busy trying to get rid of the mess.\n\nShe pushes me aside to the counter and forces my arm against the top of it. Her hands, clipped yet jagged, press against my cheekbone and temple as she...\n\nPours eyedrops into it. The burning sensation stops for a little while and she comes in to blow on it a little, washing away the heat with a cool gust of breath.\n\nI shiver.\n\n\"Oh my god. Are you alright?\" she says with a hint of worry, \"You didn't even notice that, didn't you?\"\n\n\"No, no I didn't.\" I reply, feeling my arm grasped tightly like a mechanical clamp.\n\n\"Good thing I was here to save you, right?\"\n\nI don't answer.\n\n\"Good thing I was here for you, right?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" came the words.\n\n\"Yes, what?\" she asks.\n\n\"Yes, I'm glad you were here for me,\" I say aloud, knowing full well that she had distracted me on purpose.\n\nShe nods, satisfied with the answer, and moves over to the stove, still burning with the strong odor of gas. She inspects the work-area thoroughly, no detail leaving her eye. Her mouth drops a little as her eyes light up, to my utter horror. \"Hey, come over here. No wonder everything burnt. You were cooking eggs wrong again.\"\n\nAgain.\n\nAgain?\n\nMy feet move me over to the stove. Whether out of fear or choice, I couldn't tell anymore.\n\nShe grabs my hand like I was a child, and guides it over to point at something in the pan. All I could see were the burnt eggs and scrap of onion sticking to the oil coating. It was still hot. I should really turn off the gas by now. The bills we- I mean, she was paying these days were getting awful high. Damned recession or whatever.\n\nThen I feel it. I feel my hand burn.\n\n\"There, see. There was a bit of raw liar still left uncooked. Be sure to really get into that next time, you hear me?\"\n\nI think about screaming for a second. Then the thought leaves me. What was the point? This always happened anyway.\n\n\"Listen, Walty. I couldn't care any less if you decided to go ahead and have some fun times with some younger woman. Just remember something.\"\n\nI should really dip my hand into the sink right now.\n\n\"Remember, dear?\" I ask.\n\n\"Remember that I love you. And you love me. Screw whatever you'd like, but remember who you go home to every night, deal?\"\n\nShe nuzzles herself into my chest, purring in affection. My other hand moves to switch off the gas before she slaps it away, sends me to a chair, and does it herself.\n\nBurnt eggs still taste like they always do. I should call my therapist next-door for more sessions.", "In the end I suppose I preferred the time he wasn't around to the time he was.\nIt was my time, time for me.\nAt first I resented it; felt worthless, unwanted, unloved, but then...\nWell I pulled myself together.\nI made a list.\nPositives and negatives.\nI grew to enjoy the ever elaborate lies he told. Stories he'd conceive in order to placate me as he got his end away elsewhere.\nI don't remember when I realised I knew, perhaps I always had, I came to think I didn't really care.\nWhile he was off I'd take his concocted fictions and write them down in my book. \nSometimes I'd test him when he came back, and mark him in a column out of ten.\nWhen he got it wrong, or couldn't remember, his face would turn slowly change shade to a deep purple, and sweat dripped down his grotesque and ugly face.\nEventually, I didn't have to sex with him anymore, and somewhere along the line I moved to my own bedroom.\nSometimes I'm on my own for nights and nights.\nIt is wonderful.\n\n \n" ]	2
Bonus points if the TK is hung over from last night and his powers are a little wonky.	[WP] Teenage supermarket employees are shelving product, but one of them is telekinetic. The new guy is flabbergasted that everyone is completely unfazed by this.	[ "The cutting beams of the Walmart lighting jolted Walt into his final and underwhelming state of awakeness that would last all of his first shift. Fuck this job.\n\"Let the old guys show you around knowmsayin. It's a simple enough job yeah just listen'a these guys and you'll do fine.\"\nThanks. Did I say that or think it? Fuck, he's already gone. He probably thinks I'm mute.\nWhile walking down aisles in an effort to stumble upon his responsibilities by chance, a unanimous \"Ay, new guy!\" clamor corrects his path to a pallet of kindergarteners in the bodies of men and women.\nAn invisible support under a pallet of Charmin 10 feet up collapses and white packs scatter the ground like oversized packing peanuts in an alcoholic mailman's backroom.\n\"fuuuUCK! You guys! Damn,\" said what Walter saw before in his periphery as a mannequin in the position of a scared centerfielder reluctantly offering the ball a glove to be caught in.\n\"Hey that's why we're paying you the big bucks, Tiki,\" chimed in one of the bodies slumped on the pallet.\nWalter finally grasped -- \"Wait what the fuck!\"\n\"Yeah, he does that,\" from the pallet gallery.\n\"But how? Strings? You guys are fucking with me? Goddamn I should drink coffee,\" Walter snorted out almost all at once, simultaneously.\n\"We've all been there, thought that. 'But, but-but why? Aw nyeoooh this is against everything I believe in,'\" cut in a disinterested girl focused on staring at her static, blank phone for dramatic effect.\n\"Why-- aren't you some kind of like superhero or something man?\" Walter stated more than asked. He bent his knees in unguided anticipation.\nThe former mannequin turned his head in acknowledgement at most and promptly returned to his motionless state, passing off the opportunity for response to others.\nAfter a brief collective sigh of tiredness, mostly caused by the morning but directed in Walt's direction, one of the Rodin-esque pallet sitters humored him.\n\"Did your parents ever force you to play sports as a kid?\"\n\"Yeah.\"\n\"Which ones?\"\n\"Baseball, so-\"\n\"Do you like any of them now?\"\n\"No,\" Walter said half-questioningly.\n\"Well, there you go.\"\n\"Huh.\"\nHuh.\n\nFeedback welcome. First submission in hopefully a long run.\nNinja: Oh my god how do I line break?", "Its four in the afternoon of Jack's first shift at the supermarket. Andrew has been showing him the ropes all day. \n\n\"Alrighty mate, now this stuff is, again, pretty simple. Put the stock from the cage onto the shelves then wheel the cage out back and crush your cardboard.\" Andrew explained as he wheeled the cage with Jack walking next to him. Jack nodded, a little nervous about everything still. \n\n\"Not much of a talker aye?\" Andrew said with a light slap on the back, \"Its all good, we all have our little quirks\" he continued with a smile as the arrived at the isle. There was another team member at the other end with a similar cage. \n\"Thats Alex down there. If you have trouble finding anything just ask him. He'd be happy to help. AREN'T YOU ALEX?\" Jack jumped a little as Andrew playfully yelled down the isle. A weak nod came from the the end of the isle as Alex held his head slightly. Andrew chuckled \n\"Reckon he had a bit of a rough night, enjoy. If you need me Ill be around.\" He said as he left the two in the isle.\n\nRoughly 20 minutes pass by Jacks count and they fill the stock. Jack jumps as he hears a glass jar smash at Alex's end of the isle. He walks on over to help and see Alex kneeling down, still a hand to his head, cleaning up the spilt coffee beans. As Jack got closer he noticed Alex wasn't actually moving, but the beans were being collected. \n\n\"Need a hand?\" Jack asked as he knelt down, he froze at what he saw. The pieces of the jar were re-forming in front of his eyes...in mid air. He was speechless. \n\"Nah its cool man, I've got this\" he said in a haggard voice. Judging by that and his bloodshot eyes he was definitely hung over. That still didn't explain the jar putting itself back together though. Jack stood up flabbergasted as Alex resumed his work, the cracked coffee jar in an empty box now. Moments pass as Jack stood there staring. Alex eventually looked over. \"What? Everyone drops something some time.\"\n\"Sorry, but did you just...\"\n\"Clean it up? Yeah. Can't just leave glass everywhere.\"\n\"Everything okay here fellas?\" The familiar voice of Andrew came from behind Jack. \n\"Uh, yeah I guess.\" Jack said and shook his head. \n\"Found this a few isles over Alex\" Andrew said holding a shard of glass. He dropped it and it floated over to the rest of the jar in its box. Jack again couldn't believe his eyes. \"Did you just see that?\" Jack exclaimed as Andrew turned to leave.\n\"What? Its a bit of glass, no real biggie, got it before someone stepped on it.\" Andrew said, somewhat confused at Jack's tone. \n\n\"Nevermind\" Jack said as he turned back to his spot and shook his head in disbelief. It had been a long day and he was learning a bunch of stuff, maybe his mind was just exhausted and playing tricks on him. A few minutes later Jack headed to the toilet, passing a few other team members in the isles, including Andrew sorting out some jams.\n\nHe turned the corner and went down the stairs and almost bumped into someone. \"S-sorry\" Jack apologized as he looked up to see....Andrew. Jack cocked his head. \n\"All good mate\" \n\"Weren't you just in one of the isles?\" Jack asked.\n\"Uhhhh yeah, im a bit all over the place at the moment, got alot to do.\"\nThey passed each other and Jack shook his head again.\nHe went to the restroom and waited for a stall to be free. One opened and out came...Andrew. Jack stood, mouth agape. No way anyone came past him while he was waiting.\n\n\"You alright mate?\" Andrew asked as he buckled his belt into place. Jack said nothing as he turned and walked up the stairs and out the store. On his way out he looked around and saw more strange things. A fresh produce worker whose arm seemed way too long to be normal, a deli worker who was cutting ham with his hands alone and a checkout lady who's hands were going was faster than. should be possible.\n\nHe stood outside in the fresh air for minutes until Andrew approached him. \"You okay mate? You looked a bit freaked out.\" He asked as he leant on the wall next to Jack. \n\"You didn't see any of that? Alex? The fruit guy? The checkout lady?\" Jack stood back \"Hell, even you?\" \n\nAndrew just shrugged \"As I said mate we all have our little quirks.\"", "\"Okay, we just need to shelve the canned goods and you'll be good to go! See? Your first full day wasn't so bad!\"\n\nMan, Katherine's enthusiasm is a little exhausting...\n\n\"Yeah! I... uh.. I think it went okay....\"\n\nShe smiled while beaming at me with her bright eyes.\n\n\"Oh, I haven't introduced you guys yet! Hey guys this is the new girl!\" \n\nThere were two employees up the aisle, on each side. A thin girl with red hair and a tall lanky guy. The girl waved politely and the guy threw up three fingers. What...What does he mean by that? Is it a gang sign? Is something wrong with his hand? Is... uh... is he...\n\n\"So did you get all of that?\"\n\n\"What? I mean yeah! Totally! Yeah...\"\n\nKatherine stared at me, quizzically.\n\n\"Cool... Anyway, since you clearly didn't get any of that, just put the jams on this shelf, and use the tags to tell you which brand is which. I'll be on this shelf if you have any questions, and Rosa and Jeremy I'm sure will be MORE THAN HAPPY TO HELP YOU.\" she said loudly to get their attention.\n\nRosa stifled her laughter and Jeremy help up three fingers again and why does he do that!? This is bothering me way more than it should.\n\nI pushed my curiosity aside and started putting the jams on the shelf, starting with...Smucker's peanut-butter and jelly swirl..\n\nWhy would someone get the swirl? It looks pretty, but that can't be nearly as good as\n\n*PHHTTHHTHTHTH!!!\n\nJesus Christmas what was that! I shot my head up towards Rosa and Jeremy only to see Rosa quietly shelving products and Jeremy setting down an empty palette and moving down the aisle to another palette.\n\n\"...I've been here since six in the morning, I just need some off time.\" I concluded, and turned back to all of today's latest jams.\n\nOkay, where was I at? Oh, yeah the Smuck-\n\nPPPHHTHTHTHTHTHT!!!\n\nOkay, that is not in my head! What is the deal!? I looked back down the hall to see Rosa in the same spot and Jeremy setting down another empty palette. Didn't he just start on that pallette?\n\n\"How did he do that so fast?\" I whispered to Katherine who was working on the bottom shelf behind me. She started to stand up, but halfway through her glasses fell and slid under the shelf. \n\n\"Ugh...\"she sighed, \"Jeremy? A little help please?\"\n\n\"Got it!\" Jeremy yelled from across the hall, and he held up three fingers. Katherine's glasses slid out from under the aisle, flew up into the air, and darted over to Katherine's face, bouncing off at the last second.\n\n\"Ah, you hit my eye, you douche!\"\n\n\"Sorry, long night!\"\n\nRosa was laughing and WHAT THE HELL DID JEREMY JUST DO? Did he just force pick her glasses up from across the room!?\n\nThe glasses gently lifted up from the floor and onto Katherine's face. \n\n\"Thank you!\" she said, cheerfully.\n\nI was speechless. Everyone just casually went back to shelving like this in normal, but I'm pretty sure it's not!\n\nAfter a few seconds of silence, I mustered a \"How...how did he...\"\n\nI looked back at Katherine to see that she was already looking at me. But...She was facing the shelf, and working as diligently as ever. Her spine must have been made out of rubber or whatever owl's spines were made of, because her head was completely backwards.\n\nI was in complete shock. I backed into the shelf I had been working on, knocking shitty peanut butter and jelly swirl mixture jars off of the shelf.\n\nRosa, Jeremy, and Owl-Neck Backwards-Head Katherine were all in stitches at this point.\n\n\"THIS... THIS IS NORMAL FOR YOU GUYS!?\"\n\n\"Yeah!\" Misses Backwards-headed McCrazyneck responded\n\n\"We all have \"abilities\" that no one else has. We all work here, because we keep our abilities quiet to keep the whole world from finding out, and hiding it all of the time is hard. So we work here so we can be ourselves around each other.\"\n\n\"You...you mean everyone hear?\"\n\n\"Almost everyone. Jeremy can pick things up with mind.\"\n\nJeremy was spinning a box of Little Debbie Cloud Cakes in the air in front of him. His hand was gently swirling around with the box and he gave me a thumbs up with the other.\n\n\"I'll let you see Rosa's for yourself\" \n\nI looked down at Rosa who had a box of coffee in each hand as she waved at me with her OH MY GOD SHE HAS THREE ARMS.\n\nI looked back at Katherine.\n\n\"And I have a stigmatism!\" she said as she gestured towards her glasses.\n\nB..bu..but your head is..\n\n\"It's a joke.\"\n\n\n", "Moustache guy - I'd already forgotten his name - waved his hands vaguely over the dishevelled workers. \"Here's the guys: Suzie, Petey, Sahar, TK, and The Guiche. Say hi, guys.\"\n\nI smiled politely. \"Hi, y'all,\" I said. I'm from London. I don't know why I said \"y'all\".\n\n\"January sales have kicked our asses already, so get to the stocking. Break's at six fifteen. We open at nine. Get the shelves stocked and I don't give a shit what you do with the rest of your time as long as you ain't drinking.\"\n\n\"Hi y'all,\" I said. Like a fucking idiot.\n\nMercifully, he left. Three out of the five of them pulled out a wooden pallet and rested a tablecloth over it. One of them set out a packing crate for it to rest on. \n\nTK did the rest.\n\n\"What the fucking shit is happening?\" I asked.\n\nSuzy rolled her eyes. \"He does this,\" she said. \"We play poker. You wanna have a conversation about the metaphysical implications of the universe as you see it, or you wanna get paid for doing fuck all?\"\n\nI desperately wanted to get paid for doing fuck all. I sat down at the table.\n\n\"Five card draw,\" Sahar said. \"One exchange, up to four. Nothing wild. Ante up, bitches.\"\n\nI pulled some coins out of my pocket and made the ante. \"Can we at least talk* about it?\" I asked.\n\nThe Guiche slapped his hand down on the table. \"Check,\" he said. \"Talk about what?\" he said. \"He does it. That's all.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but -\" I started. Suzy's glare shut me up.\n\n\"Check. But what?\" she asked.\n\nI glanced over at him. By the time I looked back, I'd already clocked the familar look of one who holds up progress. \"Check,\" I blurted. \"He's just banging that box against the shelves.\"\n\nPetey looked up. \"TK!\" He shouted. \"Fucking focus, will you? Check.\"\n\nThe box slid into place. As did the next.\n\n\"Check,\" Sahar said. \"Family pot.\" \n\nI swallowed. \"So he's... he's a fucking...\"\n\nThe Guiche handed some cards to Sahar. \"Three,\" he told him. \"Look, it's not like we don't all know what you're going through. We've all been - the fuck? Are you dealing from the bottom?\"\n\nSahar scowled.\n\nSuzy took over. \"Two,\" she said, sliding her cards forwards. \"We've all been through the whole 'what the fuck' stage. Let him do his thing. Don't ask questions.\"\n\n\"Three,\" I said, giving Sahar the cards. \"But the... why...\"\n\nPetey put his hand on my shoulder. \"Why isn't he a - one, Sahar - why isn't he a superhero?\"\n\nI swallowed. \"Well... yeah?\"\n\nSahar exchanged a few cards himself. \"Dude's got an IQ of sixty,\" he said. \n\nIt seemed like a waste. But I did want to get paid for doing fuck all..." ]	4
	[WP] Humans are an interstellar civilization that have colonized countless planets throughout the galaxy. In a desolate, rural corner of the Milky Way lies Earth, a human colony that has lost contact with homeworld.	[ "Here I was, farther than any man had ever been before. A whole world's hopes raiding on our shoulders. After years and years of endless war and greed, we had finally realized that we were on a clock. A clock without much more time left on it. Mars had given us hope, for a time; until we realized we couldn't terraform it in time to save everyone, or almost anyone to be truthful. The belt stations were thriving, sure, but they were terribly small and they still relied somewhat on materials from Earth: anything they couldn't mine from the asteroids. Same story for Luna city.\n\nThus my ship, the Marco Polo, off to explore the closest planet the eggheads back home declared habitable. To make sure it actually is, and send word back. Word that would send the enormous Ark ships in Earth orbit this way, bringing a bunch of meat popsicles to their new home. To ruin too, probably.\n\nMost of my way here was spend in hibernation as well, at relativistic speeds, which meant that most everyone I know back home was old and wrinkly now, if not dead and buried. Sucks but it's not like I liked most of them anyway. Deceleration had started a while back, and the acceleration had dropped down to something I could manage without the hibernation chamber's protection. And, being navigation officer (as well as captain, and sole occupant of this ship, to preserve enough energy to get here, as well as send enough ships to the other candidate planets), the computer had decided it was time I was released from Morpheus' embrace. \n\nAnd so I found myself here, farther than any man had ever been before, and yet not alone. Something, another ship, had been trailing us when I awoke. It had been flashing lights at us in an attempt to communicate. When I was young, I'd seen a movie where something like that happens, but it was so long ago I forgot how they figured a reply. They were also bombarding all sensors in the ship, but what the transmission meant was anyone's guess. The ship had translation software (standard, and to be completely honest, some tech probably forgot to uninstall all the bloatware the manufacturer added), and it was working overtime, but so far no dice. \n\nMy ship had initially been gaining on the alien vessel, but once I realized what was happening, I ramped up the deceleration to the maximum I could without turning myself into red mush, which wouldn't be a good first impression for our (hopefully) friendly neighbors. As I did, the red and green lights had grown closer each hour, both taking a bluer tint as they did so.\n\nThen, 3 hours before we came to a full stop (E.T.'s ride had matched my speed, once it had dropped to something they could actually match), the communicator screen turned on, and a face appeared on screen. A human face.\n\nThey probably had gotten access to my ship's computer, because the next words were in english, even though the mouth that uttered them didn't seem to match what was being said. \n\nThe alien-human, dressed in what appeared to be a military uniform of some sort, said what would be the first words between Earth-humans and God-knows-where-from-humans:\n\nSir, do you know why I stopped you?\n\n\n", "EDIT 2: Posted in /u/WritingPrompts for Constructive Criticism\n\nEDIT: PART TWO IN THE COMMENTS!\n\nREPORT FROM INTERPLANETARY SURVEY TEAM OMEGA-13\n\nRE: The Re-Discovery of Terra Colony (aka, \"Earth\")\n\nInitial Discovery, Survey Expedition, Results, and Future Recommendations\n\n\nOn [STARDATE REDACTED], our Deep Space probes in Sector Epsilon-A321-H5 intercepted radio transmissions of unknown origin. The nature of these transmissions was determined to be unnatural and from an intelligent source. As this region is known to be inhabited by hostile space-dwelling lifeforms, the identification and recovery of the source was deemed a priority by the Science Council.\n\nThe science vessel \"RSV Eridanus\" was given an escort of two Destroyer-class vessels, and deployed to Sector E-A321-H5. A deep-space exploratory probe of primitive design and unknown origin was identified as the source. Eridanus successfully recovered the probe, and left the sector without incident.\n\nExamination of the probe revealed numerous interesting artifacts, most prominent of which was a gold-plated, disc-shaped object, later determined to be an audio source. Upon playback, it was found to contain greetings in numerous languages, various forms of music, sounds of nature, and the brainwave recordings of an unidentified female.\n\nAnalysis of the probe's trajectory, along with the data contained within the disc and and the probe's operational systems, it was theorized that the probe originated from the lost colony of Terra.\n\nAmid much skepticism from the Republic Senate and some senior members of the Science Council, an expedition to verify these claims was organized. RSV Eridanus, RSV Capricorn, and RSV Orion (aka, \"Group Lightbringer\") were embedded within Guardian Fleet Thermopylae and deployed to the probe's supposed origin.\n\nUpon arrival in the Terran System, the fleet immediately began intercepting vast quantities of radio signals and numerous other transmissions of unknown type. Further exploration identified the source as being the third planet from the system's primary star. Upon comparison of the intercepted signals with those transmitted by the probe, and comparison of old Colonization Logs with the new data gathered by the expedition, it was confirmed that the probe was indeed Terran in origin. The Lost Colony of Terra had been rediscovered.\n\nLarge quantities of cloaked observation probes were deployed around the planet. Analysis of the current state of affairs on Terra has determined that approximately one century following LOC (\"Loss Of Contact\"), the command and communications structure amongst the outposts on Terra rapidly collapsed (Reasons Unknown). Technology and resources were rapidly destroyed and consumed amidst numerous regional conflicts and struggles for survival, until our peoples had reverted to a primitive, tribal lifestyle, with little-to-no knowledge of their true origins.\n\nWhile our civilization currently operates at a \"Type III\" Level, our counterparts on Terra barely operate at Type I, and are considered by many to be at \"Level Zero\", if even on the Scale at all. Despite this, it is fascinating to have observed that despite such an utter collapse, the Terran people have recovered and prospered to such an extent. And yet, it is believed that without our intervention, continuing Terran conflicts over territory, resources, and (most pathetically) religion may result in the total obliteration of Terra Colony, and the regrettable loss of this progress.\n\nI, Archon [NAME REDACTED], head of the Science Council, in conjunction with Most Reverend [NAME REDACTED], head of the Spiritual Council, propose to the High Executive Council, the Republic Senate, the Defence Council, and my colleagues in the Science Council, that we immediately begin discussions as to wether or not intervention into the affairs of Terra Colony is necessary. And should we arrive at such a conclusion, we must quickly, yet rationally, decide how we must intervene, and how soon.\n\nWe have built our civilization, our entire Republic, in the name of Discovery, Unity, and Aid. It would be a tragedy if we abandon our own people in spite of these principles.\n\nI await your decision.\n\nSigned,\n\nArchon [REDACTED], Chair, Science Council\n\nMost Revered [REDACTED], Chair, Spiritual Council\n\n\nThe Archon's proposal was brought up for debate approximately two weeks later. Despite fierce opposition by some members of the High Executive (including the Supreme Archon Herself), and calls for caution by the Defence Council, the Republic Senate voted IN FAVOUR of Intervention.\n\nThe methods and timing of Intervention have yet to be determined." ]	2
	[WP] The world has turned its back on manned space exploration. Machines are enough, they say. An astronaut named John Henry has something to say about that.	[ "\"John.\" The NASA director splayed his hands over his face. \"You can't use a hammer to go to space. Our fuel budget is lower and robots don't require as much weight. Hence: less fuel. Can you please stop calling me?\"\n\n\"Sir, with gumption and Ameri- Hello, sir?\" He was met only with dial tone. John Henry sighed. \"Well, I guess I won't get NASA funding after all.\" He glanced up at his week's work, train tracks a tenth of the way to the moon.", "\"John.\" The NASA director splayed his hands over his face. \"You can't use a hammer to go to space. Our fuel budget is lower and robots don't require as much weight. Hence: less fuel. Can you please stop calling me?\"\n\n\"Sir, with gumption and Ameri- Hello, sir?\" He was met only with dial tone. John Henry sighed. \"Well, I guess I won't get NASA funding after all.\" He glanced up at his week's work, train tracks a tenth of the way to the moon." ]	2
	[WP] You have the same mind control powers as Kilgrave from "Jessica Jones", but you attempt to use your powers for good.	[ "'Listen to me Ivan.' I felt his stand up, the chair sliding out, eyes shooting around. The populace of the diner turned their heads, staring at him. I sigh, 'Oh Sit Down, relax, I'm not going to hurt you.' Forcing him back into his chair and slowly shoveling another bite of scrambled eggs into his mouth.\n\n'Who are you!?' he echoed back mentally.\n\n'I said relaax . . . Call me Clair.' I scratched his cheek to drive the effect home. People stopped paying notice.\n\n'Clair? Are you doing this? How are you doing this!?' I pinched his cheek for him.\n\n'Clairvoyant, and yes, I am doing this, but that's not important right now, what's important is-'\n\n'Wait, Clairvoyent? You mean the voice of the city?' I smile\n\n'Oh you've heard of me then?' Ivan was calming down now, getting more calculated, he was a brave one.\n\n'Rumors, they say you take over people's minds, make them do things.'\n\n'Really?' I spoon more eggs for him 'What kinds of things?'\n\n'Umm . . . like stopping criminals, making them just turn around and walk into a \npolice station, they say that's you.'\n\n'Good to hear I have a reputation'\n\n'Well . . . thanks? Can you let me go now?' He asked hopefully.\n\n'Oh no. You haven't let me finish yet.' I swallow his throat.\n\n'Finish what?'\n\n'Come now Ivan.\" I cheer \"You're smarter than this. Think.'\n\n'What's Important?' He tries.\n\n'What's Important!\" I force a smile on him.\n\n'Do you know what's important Ivan?'\n\n'Umm . . . no?'\n\n'You're important.' He fumbled. I stifled a giggle.\n\n'Well I don't think I'm that important, i'm just a-'\n\n\"Just a kid studying for his architecture degree, I know . . . Ivan, I'm going to tell you a secret . . . everyone's important.' That ticked his interest.\n\n'Wait what?'\n\n'When you're in the mind of so many people Ivan, you get to see how connected everything is. Do you know that I can connect you to any other person in this city in just four people . . . Were all so much closer than you think, so if one person's happy, everyone gets a little happier.'\n\n'Right so . . . what's important about me then?' I chuckle.\n\n'Oh that's for you to figure out for yourself Ivan, I'd be spoiling the fun if I told you. What's important however is her.' I twist his head slightly to the left. Allowing a slightly busty girl with auburn hair enter his view. She had a loose red hoodie that matched the booth she was sitting in draped over her. It would shift a little as she sipped her coffee and occasionally stole a look over at Ivan.\n\n'Wait what?'\n\n'You noticed she was cute when you walked in, the thing she didn't notice, was she thought you were cute as well.' Suddenly she stood up, before being forced back down again. Her head turned to lock eyes with Ivan.'\n\n'Wait I don't know about . . . did you just connect to . . . you're doing this for what now?'\n\n'I was just scanning around, noticed this adorable little glance fest, and thought you two should meet!' I forced Ivan to grab his plate and drink, before standing up and walking over to her spot.\n\n'Seriously!?' He early screamed in my mind 'I'm don't know, she's outta my league Clair!'\n\n'Shut up, her name's Ilana by the way.' His heart beat a little faster.\n\n'That's a really nice name.'\n\n'Sure is.' Ivan sat down. 'I did a brief scan of your interests, you both seem to have a passion for spaceflight, why don't you two have a talk about . . .' A man walking by suddenly dropped his paper on the table. 'There's an article about SpaceX on A8, have fun you two!' I begin to loosen my leash on him.\n\n'Clair wait!'\n\n'Hmm?'\n\n'Umm. . . thanks, I guess.' I smile.\n\n'Sure thing Ivan, glad to help.' In a whisk I was gone, giggling as I eavesdropped on their first few awkward words.\n\n\"Not a better feeling in the world.\" I mumble with a gleam.", "I turned the collar of my peacoat up, muttering at the wind as it blew through the alley. A group of kids were playing tag or cops and robbers or some other game kids play. One of them ran into me, not looking where he was going. He fell and looked up at me with a face that was half angry, like I was the one who had kicked his dog and tossed his toys in the river, half scared, maybe because I was one of the members of the all powerful club; The Adults. I try to smile at him, but it must look like a grimace, because he starts to scramble away.\n\"Chill out, kid. It was an accident,\" I mutter so only he can hear.\nHe stops slowly, still staring at me. \"What happened to your face?\"\nI shrug. I hear a mother's voice yell for James, come get your coat, you idiot don't you know it's cold outside.\nThe kid in front of me rolls his eyes. \n\"You James?\" I ask.\nHe shrugs, mimicking my answer. Kid was trying to be a tough little bastard. He turns to go back to his game when I tell him to stop.\n\"I got this face from frostbite. Go listen to your mom and get your coat.\"\nHe nods and runs away, jumping inside while singing some song.\nI sigh and keep going my way, pulling my hat down to hide my face. The wind was brutal here in the alleyway, but my destination was just a hop from the end of this alleyway. \nI turn left out of the alley, see a man running towards me, frantically looking behind him as he tries to empty a purse. As he approaches me, I tell him to stop.\n\"Looks like somebody lost their purse. You should go return it.\"\n\"Screw you,\" he says, turning around and walking back the way he came.\nI shake my head and enter the liquor store. I fold down my collar, letting know the shop keeper I'm not here to rob the place. I pick up my usual: a bottle of Jack and a ten pack of beer. My exchange with the cashier is beautiful in its silence. He rings up the purchase without a word; I mutely hand him the cash to close out the transaction.\nAs he bags up my whiskey, the door bursts open and three guys with masks come barging in. I immediately take note of the weapons. One guy, armed with a shiny, shiny revolver starts screaming at the man behind the counter, my best friend. One with a sawed-off shotgun moves to the back of the store, trolling for any other people to intimidate. The last, armed with a pistol, stands by the door, ready to ambush any other potential hostages.\nRevolver Man is still screaming, waving his bright toy around in his tantrum. His sidekick, Shotty Boy sees me and starts yelling at me. I sigh and shake my head. For the first time today, I speak loudly. \"All three of you are going to put your weapons to your heads.\"\nThere is silence. My order hits the three of them like a semi truck with broken brakes. They quickly move to obey, and I see fear in their eyes. Great. More of what I hate.\nI look at each one of them. \"You will listen to me. This is not how you get ahead in life. This is the fast track to a six foot deep bed. When I leave this shop, you will unload your weapons, lay the ammunition on the counter, the weapons on the floor, and you will slowly and calmly exit the building and go home.\"\nAs I started to walk out of the shop, I turned around and looked at my silent cashier friend. He looked at me in awe. I lowered my voice again. \"Please forget about this little adventure, huh?\"\nHe still looked at me like I was an angel who had just fallen through the ceiling, but he nodded. That's all I was looking for.\nI pushed open the door and walked out, hearing the click of guns being emptied behind me. Just another good deed down by the almighty Voice.", "Two teenagers stood in the alley. A drug deal, I realized. I pulled over and stepped out of the car. \n\n\"Get rid of the drugs\", I told them, \"and go turn yourselves in\". I continued into the building. I climbed the stairwell, and heard a muffled scream. I kicked down the door to an apartment, and saw a man pointing a gun at a woman and child. The man turned and pointed the gun at me.\n\n\"Get the hell out of here\", he said, \"or I'll put a bullet in your head, you #%$&\".\n\n\"If you threaten or insult me again\", I said, angered, \"I will make you shove that gun up your @$$\".\n\n\"Oh yeah\", he replied, \"how are you gonna do that? With magic?\". He turned to the woman and child.\n\n\"Look at mister Harry Potter here, right?\", he said, laughing, \"Come on, laugh with me. That was funny. Laugh damnit! Laugh with me or I'll blow your #%$&?€+ brains out!\".\n\n\"Stick the gun up your @$$\", I told him. My powers kicked in, and he did as he was ordered.\n\n\"Now let them leave\", I ordered, \"and pull the gun out and videotape a signed confession\". I followed the woman and child out of the apartment, then continued my way up the stairs. I reached the roof. The sniper was there, as expected, preparing to carry out an assassination. \n\n\"Wonderful day to assassinate the mayor, isn't it? Now surrender\", I said. The man turned, and yelled something in a language I didn't speak. Damn, I thought, he doesn't speak English. Two more armed mercenaries leaped down onto the roof. They spoke to each other in that same incomprehensible language. However, I noticed a light Hispanic accent in one man's voice.\n\n\"Suelta la pistola\", I commanded. As I predicted, he let go of his firearm. \n\n\"Quien te contrató?\", I asked.\n\n\"El gerente de Wal-Mart\", he replied. That made sense, sort of. The city's mayor was a staunch opponent of large corporations, so a corrupt executive would likely hire an assassin. \n\n\"Dile a tus amigos para rendírselos\", I commanded. He told the other mercenaries something, and they dropped the guns and surrendered to the police. These powers are really coming in handy, I thought, returning to my car." ]	3
	[WP] Humans now communicate through shaking their butts. Those that can Twerk are considered some of the most well spoken individuals in society. After a great tragedy casts a dark shadow upon your county, your leader rises to address the nation.	[ "June 2020\n\nI know that my parents never envisioned my life as it was when I was at university, ashamed by how I made money to get by. Ashamed that they couldn’t help me more, their own crippling student loans holding them back.\n\nI can honestly say that no sane person within the human race could have predicted what came after. Not my parents. Not me. Not a single one. \n\nSo it started in my second year studying modern linguistics in London. I remember the first contact with ‘them’. \n\n“Hey Lucy! You’re on! Those perverts are practically begging for you out there!” Jess danced her way backstage as the music slowly dropped to a quieter tone, to give the punters time to stock up at the bar. I smiled at her, a rare warm smile. Jess had introduced me to stripping, which had surprised me. Always the quite ones, but I had always been quite liberal so I took to it like a duck to water. I finished applying my makeup, picked up my shawl and shimmied my way side stage. \n\nI peeked around the curtains into the main bar, we were packed that night. All I was thinking about was how I would be able to pay 3 months rent from the tips from that night alone. The lights dimmed, music flared and the stiletto on my right foot glittered silver under the lights as I raised it from behind the curtain. It was a new routine, with a specially prepared mix of songs with just a hint of burlesque. I was proud of it; as the headline act at ‘The Strip’ I liked to keep my dances changing, and the punters drooling. If I had known what was coming I would have… Well I don’t know what I would have thought or done differently.\nBefore the curtains parted for me the lights went out and the music stopped. Quite dramatically. The screens on the stage and in the booths flickered to life to reveal the U.S. President, surrounded by the seats of the United Nations. Sweat was running down his brow. There was a wild gleam of fear in his eyes as he kept the rest of his features under control. Some members of the UN behind him silently wept. \n\n“Hello, Er”, He coughed “Hello Earth, I suppose. I know this sort of address is highly unusual from the lead of one nation to every global citizen.” There was a grumble from behind the camera and the sound of something clicking, the president flinched. “…So I will get right to the point of the matter. The leaders of your nations have been in deep… discussion with a new… Friend, for the last few hours. \n\n\"They have, requested that we welcome them with open arms to. To celebrate our new alliance. For a smooth transition into this new world, we highly recommend you set down prejudce, and communicate only with words of peace” His eyes flickered to the empty seat, where it became apparent the British Prime minister slumped motionless in her chair.\n\nThe bar was silent, drunkenly absorbing the information. Trying to sober up. Before we could let out the breath we were holding the screen flickered again. It landed on a scene that people could only have dreamed of. It was evidently aboard a space ship, one far more sophisticated than anything humans had ever created. Oddly though, I don’t think many people payed attention to that bit. \nWell, not so odd when you consider that there was an Alien. A real life alien, with eight strange appendages on its face, a strange tone to its skin and a strange cylindrical body. For want of a better word, it was freakishly strange. I almost forgot that our prime minister had been murdered, there was an actual real life alien on our tv screen!\n\n“Thank you for the introduction Mr President. Hello Humans. We are the Roogles. You may call me Lord BOB. Yes, Bob is one of your earth names, I have selected it because it is distinctly unthreatening. You may notice I am speaking in your earth Language ‘English’” His voice appeared to be coming from the third appendage on the left of his face. \n\n“ This is so that you understand we are willing to integrate. Yes Integrate. Your delightful United Nations has agreed to accept my fleet of refugees. We have travelled very far and were forced from our last home by an ungrateful species who we had tried to help. Tonight shall be our first night living among you. I have sent 10000 ambassadors to every large settlement to begin making friends with you all. We will buy the drinks” With that the screens cut out. \nSome of the girls on the bar were crying, the customers just stared at the bottom of their glasses hoping to find the answer. Silence fell across the bar as the doors opened. Panic swept quickly afterwards as 40 Roogles drifted into the bar. Panic would only lead to disaster, I wiggled my hips dramatically, in the hope the music guy would understand to roll with the music and carry on. \n\nThat was the first message communicated through the shake of a bum. The music rolled, and nobody died that night. I was glad to have spared some lives with my distraction. Only one hostage was taken. \n\nMe.\n\nIt seems that the Roogles being cylindrical, actually don't have legs as such, but a lot of muscles on the organ that touches the ground that apply pressure to allow movement. So they're facinated by dancers, most especially those that shake their booty. Most prominent Roogles have several humans to dance for them, even the lower ones manage to gain access to a dancer.\n\nThis was all two years ago. I am technically more of a slave or a pet than a hostage, but little do my captors know I created the language which the underground resistance communicates with. They parade us on TV, Live performances to keep Roogles happy. All humans are slaves now, but we communicate through the rhythm of our booty. We're going to bring the Roogles down!\n\nNo, not myself, not my parents, not a single person would have seen that coming.\n", "October 28th, 4246\n\nTwo thousand years of evolution brought us to this. You could say two thousand years aren't much, from a cosmic point of view. But technology really accelerated things. The invention of Neural Music Transmission systems, that could transmit music directly into the brain, was the main catalyst for the transformation. People heard music anywhere. And thus, we started dancing. \n\nYoutube was surely another big factor in this. And electronic and pop music started becoming a little too famous. We now don't have a voice. We talk with our ass. It took a while for us to understand how. It was only three generations ago that voice was completely lost. We adjusted to using Morse code. Then, it happened. On 1st January 2016 A.N. (After Neural, after the invention of the Neural Transmission System, officially considered the turning point of the World's history), the American Neural Transmission Server broke. It left us without a rhytm to twerk to. With great difficulty, our leader convoked the whole nation. \n\nNow I'm there, waiting to listen to the Great Leader's worlds. Maybe, a solution has been found. Then, I hear an announce. It was the ass of our president speaking. It was president Nicki Minaj LXII." ]	2
	[WP] Sponsored superheroes	[ "\"You're kidding, right?\" the bratty teenage star nasally yelled. \n\n\"I'm afraid not. Remember, I don't determine the prices. As a matter of fact, the person speaking on my ear piece is.\" \n\nThe rather thin man put his hand up to his ear. A sound chirped. \"Yes. I understand. I'll tell her that.\" The thin man hated working security for bratty stars, they always end up the same way..\n\n\"She says there is an expert shooter here. You will die without our protection.\" \n\n\"Fine. Whatever. But I'm never hiring you fuckers again.\" \n\nThe bratty 17 year old stomped off. The thin man hated his job. Beyond being bullet proof he also happens to be pretty fast. Not light speed quick or anything but he could probably get home faster running than if he took his car. The woman that spoke on his earpiece is the head of Special Protection Inc. She predicts the future with a 90% accuracy rate. She can only see a few hours into the future and usually only sees things she's looking for, but it works. \n\nThe brat made her way to the stage to talk with tv talk host Glenda Rodriguez. The thin man hovered a little beyond sight of the camera but close enough to come running if he spots a shooter. \n\n\"Tom is in position\" the voice in his ear said. The thin man sighed deeply and replied, \"understood. I'm ready.\" With that, the thin man ran forward onto the stage. The brat angrily yelled \"what the hell are you doing!?\"\n\nMeanwhile, Tom was running towards the stage with an exaggeratedly large gun. He aimed the gun at the brat just as the thin man got in front of her. Long story short, she didn't die. The thin man saved the day and the shooter went to prison. Where he promptly disappeared. \n\nLater on at Special Protection Inc: \n\n\"Good job, guys. You've earned your wage.\" the woman sat at her large desk. She neatly stacked the contract for the bratty star and put them in a fat folder labeled \"Successful\". The folder labeled \"unsuccessful\" was far thinner. The contract in question did not mention that Tom was hired to act like he was going to kill the star and the thin man was going to save her. It also did not mention that Tom would later actually kill the bratty star if she declines their service next time. At Special Protection Inc. they place a high value on repeat customers. ", "\"Read this.\" \n\nThe caped wonder who had just finished with hair and makeup, sat up a little straighter. \"I can't believe it's not butter. In fact, it tastes just like the real thing!\" \n\n\"No, wait, that's the wrong card. Ah, here you go.\" Shuffling, awkward breathing. The producer handed said out-of-work superhero a new cue card. \n\n\"Today you, yes you can.. probably... take an all expenses paid trip to Bali if you simply fill out the review about your SUPER server at Applebee's?\" \n\n\"Ok, yeah, like that. Except with more emotion, and get to the next part.\" The steely, caped man, blinked. What did he mean, more emotion? \n\n\"I can't try and sell something I'm not comfortable with. Especially from an ethical standpoint.\" \n\n\"What's uncomfortable about winning a free trip to Bali?\" The producer spat, eyes wide. \n\n\"Oh, it's not that. It's eating at Applebee's. There's nothing super about it. Have you ever seen their kitchens?\" \n\n\"Uhh... no... I haven't... have you?\" The producer nervously chewed his lip.\n\n\"Yep, saved a kitten from one of the fryers once. It was in my early days. You'd be surprised how much crap gets into those things.\"\n\n\"Ah. Well, maybe just think of it as a figurative Applebee's.\" The producer gestured to the camera in the fully-lit studio. \"And, action!\" \n\nThere was always a reason certain superheroes were falling out of demand these days. It was like this guy wanted to become the next Jessica Jones or something. ", "The nasal voice piped up in his ear bud suddenly, almost making him lose his footing as he scrambled across the ravine. He punched his gloved hand into the stone wall and his fingers raked out a handhold to swing himself back around.\n\n\"Faster! The cameras are ahead of you, on him. Faster now.\"\n\nHe grit his teeth and paced on, running now. He had fallen from five stories or more to barely a broken rib, but the ravine was tower-block deep. He could have caught the running criminals on the outskirts of the city - he had been meters away when the order had come through. \n\n\"Let them shoot you. Pretend it's slowed you down. Chase them to the ravine, we have eyes on it and the light is perfect. Come on, look more hurt. You look bored.\"\n\nHe was bored. He scrabbled down the ravine a little faster though, remembering to pant for the camera drone overhead. They liked it when he pretended to breathe - the directors said it humanised him and he did have to admot that it made for more dramatic sequences. He made a mental note to watch the evening playback in the hotel above the casino later.\n\nHe had chased the theives to an edge, and he smiled - real, this time - because the day's work was almost done. The two men shot at him instantly, the bullets ricocheting off his raised arm. He bore down on them, swatting bullets left and right, pulling cuffs from his ridiculous utility belt as he went. Disarming them was simple, but he made it look a struggle all the same. Once it was done, the voice hissed in his ear again. \n\n\"Hang them off the edge of the rock. Then look up to the sun.\"\n\nHe did as he was told. His problem had robbed him of every penny he had made as a hero, and it would rob him of those he made tonight as well. The only company who would take him on now was not paying richly by any means, but he would eat and then he would play. He dangled the two off the edge of the rock by their cuffs, and slowly raised his head towards the drone hovering in front of the sun. \n\n\"Say the line.\"\n\nHis smile became a strained thing - he knew he looked more like a ghoul than a hero, like a wild maniac with leathered too-tight skin and a bleached smile.\n\n\"Sponsored by Millette Razors. Because I need a clean shave... while I'm cleaning up this town.\"\n\n", "In the world of sponsored superheroes, the strongest powers go to the highest bidders, particularly those who are willing to pay more dearly than others.\n\nA figure walks casually towards a fortified compound. Soldiers shout and gesture as he approaches. As he fails to respond, 40 odd machines guns blaze through the night, their roar sending residents and animals fleeing. The bullets simply disappear as they approach the man, seeming to vanish from existence. As the man approaches the metal gate, it peels aside with a deafening shriek. \n\nThe men are in full panic now, as they recognize the man's suit. To a man, they attempt to flee, desperately scrabbling up walls or out of doorways. It is not to be. One by one, they simply implode. Grown men begin sobbing, begging for mercy. They have families, they have children, they were only doing what they were told. They are afforded no mercy.\n\nThe man never betrays any particular emotion. Were it not for his suit, and the sea of blood soaking the soil and concrete, he might be on a casual stroll to the pub. This Boko Haram stronghold is not the first he has dismantled, and it is not the last. A single soldier remains, trembling amidst the redness. The man squats down in front of him. \"The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation would like it known that it disapproves of your actions.\"\n", "\"This robbery prevention brought to you by Büsterade Fuze: The Electrolytes Gods Crave,\" intoned Thor, Norse god of Thunder & Fruit-Flavored Sports Drinks, as he brought his hammer down on the cranium of an unfortunate bank robber. Ignoring the splatter of brains on his immaculate orange uniform -- a bit of skull seemed to have lodged itself square in the center of the stylized lightning bolt -- Thor turned to the cameras and flashed a heavenly smile. \n\n\"Remember,\" he said, \"whether I'm slaying hundred-headed dragons in Valhalla, crossing the solar system to intercept titanic, world-devouring monstrosities, or simply punching my way through a supervillain's castle in the drowsy Tuscan countryside, I know that staying hydrated is just about the most important thing on my plate. And when it comes to replacing the fluids, electrolytes, and carbohydrates in a superhero's sweat, there's only one product that will serve: Büsterade Fuze.\" \n\nThe remaining bank robbers cowered with their hands above their heads at the end of the counter, their weapons on the floor in front of them. \n\n\"Please,\" one of them warbled. \"We surrender!\" \n\n\"Unluckily for you,\" said Thor, the sky cracking open as he strode across the blood-spattered tile, \"I'm no more merciful to criminals than Büsterade Fuze is to dehydration!\"\n \n" ]	5
	[WP] The world chess champion is visited by Death, who offers fifty extra years of life in exchange for chess lessons.	[ "Death knocked three times and waited patiently at the door of Jackson Schowalter’s Victorian home. A cruel, hacking cough responded from behind the black door, and it cracked open to reveal a withered face.\n\n“Took you long enough, you half-rate bastard. I expected you weeks ago.”\n\n“Sorry, Mr. Schowalter. I’ve been a little tied up with the war. Please gather your things and come with me.”\n\nJackson Schowalter coughed horrifically for several seconds and walked into his home. Death followed and took a seat on a leather couch in the living room. Before him on a squat coffee table lay an ornately carved chess set. Warriors of mahogany and ivory squared off on a marble checkerboard. Death picked up a pawn with a boney hand and admired the fine craftsmanship as Mr. Schowalter shoved coats and trinkets into a canvas suitcase.\n\n“Hey, Mr. Schowalter,” said Death, “Are you any good at Chess?”\n\n“I suppose I am,” came the reply.\n\n“Well then. I’ve got an offer for you. If you teach me how to play this game, I’ll give you fifty extra years to live.”\n\n“What the fuck, Death. Just take me home.”\n\nWithout a word, Death stood up and walked out onto the front porch. Jackson Schowalter followed him, luggage in hand, and locked the black door behind him.\n", "\"You want me to teach you...how to play chess?\" Magnus rubbed the sleep from his eyes. In all his years of playing chess he surely had never come across such a strange request before. \"Why don't you just make an appointment to see me tomorrow?\"\n\nDeath winced. \"Magnus, you don't understand. This game, I swear - this game of kings and pawns has ruined my immortal life. Ever since that stupid movie came out about humans challenging me to a game for their life I'd had nothing but chess games by people who think they're remotely original. I had a chat with my boy Terry the other day, and he taught me how the little horsey things move, but I've got little other knowledge of the game, so please help me learn this game!\"\n\nMagnus reached for his light, and when he flicked it on, he could see that Death had come to him in the form of a young, business-suited man.\n\n\"What?\" Death asked when he found Magnus staring in disbelief. \"I just thought I'd get dressed for the occasion.\"\n\n\"Listen,\" Magnus said as he pulled out his chess set. \"Why don't you just get Bobby Fischer to teach you? You know, Fischer, the American legend? You reaped him, didn't you? Just tell him what he wants to hear about the Jews and you'll get a chess tutor.\"\n\n\"That's where I got the dress sense from,\" Death replied. Try as Magnus did, he could never place his voice - almost as if Death were speaking with ten thousand voices simultaneously. \"But when I asked him for chess lessons he told me to fuck off and die.\" Death laughed, a remarkably high-pitched laugh for one so grim, and stopped when Magnus didn't share his humour. \n\n\"Alright,\" Magnus said. \"You be black. Why should I teach you anything? What's in it for me?\"\n\n\"I thought you might ask this question. Shame - Anand might've forgotten and blundered, just like he did in your world championship match with him. But in any case, since you ask - fifty years more life.\"\n\nMagnus's first reaction was to reach for the pieces. He stopped himself before he touched anything. In chess, if one touched a piece, one had to move it. The 'touch-move' rule, it was called. Just like real life, when one had to commit to a relationship for it to work out. \"I don't know,\" Magnus said. \"I'm pretty young myself. I've got plenty of time left. I don't need those extra years. What's the point if you can't enjoy the life you have?\"\n\n\"What if you die the next morning?\" Death asked.\n\nMagnus froze. \"Is that a threat?\"\n\n\"No, it's a gambit,\" Death replied. \"A strategic one, if I do say so myself.\"\n\n\"Alright,\" Magnus sighed heavily, already thinking of how he was going to teach Death the most elementary of checkmate traps. Fools Mate, as it was called, looked impressive only to someone who had never played the game, or to a five-year old, whichever came first. But he supposed Death would be sufficiently impressed in any case. \"Alright. Let's get you up to speed, then.\" " ]	2
Based on a true story.	[WP] Aliens land on Earth, and immediately begin posting too many writing prompts about aliens landing on Earth	[ "He had seen it yesterday. The writing prompts about Aliens, it felt like he'd seen them his whole life. Why, now, does it push him over the edge? Into absolute and categorical terror.\n\nSome stories he had been tempted to write. Despite the predictable script they would generate. He had felt like science fiction was a pleasure and aliens allowed a certain intimacy with the unknown unavailable to other genres. The romance, putrid in retrospect.\n\nAliens stand for perpetual conflict with our base selves. It is too late to escape, they are already here.", "As Samuel started setting the table for supper we heard a low, distant rumbling coming from outside the house. It started as a vague vibration but slowly grew, shaking the dust off the top shelves of my sister Crissy's spice rack. The tremor seemed to be approaching the house from every which way and picking up speed and growing louder. After about 20 seconds the entire house started to rattle. The china hutch doors opened, spewing forth the precious ware. The three of us sprang from our seats and rushed out the front door.\n\nGrasping the house paneling for support and Samuel by side, we gazed upward as our eyes met a blackened sky. Blue lights pulsated from the pitch void every five seconds or so, followed by a rocking vibration that would send grounded to our knees. \n\n\"Greg, what is it?!\" Crissy cried to me. \n\n\"I don't know!\" I replied. \"Just hold on to something!\"\n\nThe torrential downpour of shockwaves kept us cowering on the cold, concrete driveway for a good 5 minutes, tripping us up each time we attempted to run for the shelter of the basement.\n\nThen it stopped. A disorienting silence hung in the air. I looked at Sam and Crissy, their lips moving as if to speak but no words came. What is happening? I see Samuel pointing to the ashy sky. Something was falling...wait...some things were falling from the sky. It was paper. Single sheets of paper. We waited with bated breath as the god sent notes feathered down from the heavens.\n\nI reached out for one that zigged zagged a path down towards me and grabbed it. It read, in plain English, \"An alien invasion is occurring on Earth and Donald Trump wants to build a wall in the thermosphere to keep them out.\"\n\nWhat? What in the...\n\n\"Look at this!\" exclaimed Samuel. \"Flies are actually alien remote-controlled spies and everytime they rub their hands they are sending info about us to their home planet!\"\n\nWhat's going on here?\n\n\"Greg, Sam! Look at mine! You are a alien ambassador sent to meet with the newly discovered Humans. After browsing thru their literature, you slowly realize they have knowledge about all other space faring species including your own with remarkable detail under the genre of \"Sci-Fi!\", Crissy excitedly read.\n\nI read mine over again. Then Sam's. Then Crissy's. Who is sending these? \n\nI don't know why I did, but I looked up again.\n\nSwarms of the notes were gliding down through the air. We read each one as they landed on the ground. Strange. The notes all read differently, but were very much just slightly altered variations of each other. \n\nThen we got bored.\n\n", "1035 [WP] Aliens land on Earth, declare war on ISIS\n\n876 [WP] Aliens land on Earth, launch civil rights movement against \"Astroxynophobia\"\n\n703 [WP] Humans land on G'lpthblr'gzz'thn'r, and immediately begin posting to many writing prompts about humans landing on G'lpthblr'gzz'thn'r\n\n682 [WP] Extraterrestrials land on Earth, president Trump issues press release\n\n625 [WP] Aliens land on earth at the same time as Jesus, both launch competing marketing campaigns for exposure\n\n517 [WP] Aliens land on Earth, fish for bulletproof annexation plans using r/WritingPrompts for ideas. What is the post they use?\n\n428 [WP] Aliens land on Earth in Johannesburg, mistaken for viral marketing campaign for District 10 and nobody can be convinced otherwise", "So there I was, playing chess with Walter White. God and the devil were arguing about how best to redeem humanity, and finally decided to go back in time to kill Hitler. No sooner did they disappear, than a flying saucer landed next to me. The aliens inside gave me a super power with a twist. ", "\"It's not alien propaganda.\"\n\n\"No? What about '[WP] Aliens land on Earth and people learn they are not what they seem'?\"\n\n\"Typical writing prompt with a twist, nothing special about that.\"\n\n\"And how about '[WP] Aliens land on Earth and teach the people of Earth their peaceful ways'?\"\n\n\"Actually a bit less outrageous than normal.\"\n\n\"Okay, sure, but '[WP] Aliens land on Earth and everyone forms orderly lines to be processed'?\"\n\n\"It's a bit strange, sure, but-\"\n\n\"[WP] Aliens land on Earth and the people of Earth tell the governments of Earth that the Aliens can govern the Earth better than the governments of Earth are governing Earth, so the Aliens govern Earth and they do a good job.\"\n\n\"I think a fifth grader wrote that one.\"\n\n\"[WP] Aliens land on Earth and there was absolutely no armed rebellion, because it would be futile.\"\n\n\"No, just no, okay? I get there have been a lot of alien posts lately but I don't care how many there are, I don't care what they say, there's just no possible way that it's actually alien propaganda!\"\n\n\"Oh really? '[WP] Aliens land on Earth and they are damn fine lovers.'\"\n\n\"... you may have a point.\"", "Translation Note: All Kendakian has been translated into English for the enjoyment of the reader. \n \n\"I'm telling you they're on to us.\" Gleenek sputtered gesticulating wildly at the /r/writingprompts subreddit that was visible on the main screen of their Kendakian Striker. \n \n\"Relax... Earthlings will believe anything but the truth. I mean, half of them still don't believe they landed on their moon.\" Flez scratched the dry spot on the back of his scalp. The material used in the face masks he and Gleenek wore were made of cheap Qu'rovian synthetics. He was getting tired of going out in disguise, but each mission required a minimum number of walkabouts. \n \n\"Are you kidding me? You pointed out that ridiculous flag as we flew by.\" \n \n\"I'm being serious, here, use their Internet to Google 'moon landing hoax' and see what you find.\" \n \n\"What the gorp is the Internet and a Google?\" Gleenek felt out of his element. So much was different from the training simulators back on Kendak. Flez ignored almost all protocol, prefering to go by his \"guts instinct,\" whatever that was. But still, Flez hadn't steered him wrong yet. \n \n\"The Internet is the equivalent of our Kendacron but without the VR interface. And Google is what they use to look up information.\" Flez explained all this while Gleenek used his tentacles to navigate the haptic input device (HID) that they used to interface with the ship's computer. \n \n\"By the light of Vaanu you weren't joking!\" Gleenek exclaimed as he scrolled through the plethora of conspiracy theorist websites. Before he could click on one Flez took control of the HID and went back to reddit. \n \n\"Easy there, you could get lost in all that mumbo jumbo.\" \n \n\"What is 'mumbo jumbo?'\" Flez was always throwing in non-Kendakian language to their conversations. Gleenek was annoyed at first but he had picked up a few and actually enjoyed learning them now. This one was new. \n \n\"Earth word, means nonsense.\" \n \n\"So, you really think the Earthlings just happen to be talking about alien invasions in the midst of a secret one?\" \n \n\"I'm telling you Gleenek they talk about this stuff all the time. And I mean it, ALL the time. Look, I'll prove it to you.\" With a few flicks of the HID he logged into reddit as MrDrumzOrz and submitted a writing prompt. \n \n[WP] Aliens land on Earth, and immediately begin posting too many writing prompts about aliens landing on Earth \n \n\"What are you doing!?\" Gleenek squealed. \"They'll figure it out for certain now!\" \n \n\"Relax,\" Flez said releasing the HID and leaning back in his captain's chair. \"Just sit back and enjoy the show.\" \n\n----------------------------------- \nAnother good one, this was begging to go more meta. Apologies to OP, hope you didn't mind. \n \n", "Urgle rubbed his tentacles together, watching as dozens of survellance workers hammered down on keyboards in front of him. It had only been two years since they had discovered how to breach human informational systems, and in those past years they had found out more about the race than they could ever dream. \n\n\"Foolish humans.\" gurgled Urgle, as he read the most recent data query, one detailing the exact attack plan the humans would use against an alien invasion, \"So ready to give away their information. Their technology. Their secrets.\"\n\nIt had not taken Urgle and his team long to crack the human's code, once they had discovered how to tag into their internet system. It had been simple, really. Simpler than any other race they had ever encounter. \n\n\"All you have to do is ask a question, or prompt them for information,\" explained Texteon, his chief of intelligence, showing Urgle the technology for the first time. \"And the lower commoners among them instinctively answer. Here's the code- before a query, you enter in [WP], which undoubtably stands for 'We are Peaceful'. The humans are gullible enough to believe it, and give us any answers we require.\"\n\n\"Amazing, truly amazing,\" said Urgle, his gills flaring, \"I want to know everything about them then, so we can plan our attack. With this intelligence, resistance is futile.\"\n\nBut over the years, Urgle realized the humans were not as weak as they appeared. Instead, they were stronger, much stronger than he had anticipated. \n\n\"Tell me again,\" he said to a team of specialists, all their efforts based upon finding more information about a specific human aspect, \"About this great warrior of theirs. How much of a threat is he?\"\n\n\"Ooh, the batman,\" whispered the analytics lead, \"A most grave threat. Terribly dangerous. A mutant between humans and one of their animal species, feared by all.\"\n\n\"Hmm. I want more intel. Pepper them with more queries, as many as you can. And what of Hitler, who is he?\"\n\n\"Even worse, sir. According to the queries, he can time travel, a feat that is not in accordance with their current technology!\"\n\n\"Blast!\" Shouted Urgle, slamming a tentacle on his desk, \"We need more information! Allocate all resources to discovering the extent of his abilities.\"\n\nThey typed furiously, preparing to send their questions. \n\n\"Sir?\" Came a voice from the back of the team, an intern just past his pupating stage, \"Might I make a suggestion?\"\n\n\"I'm listening,\" responded Urgle, \"We need all the help we can get.\"\n\n\"Well, sir, what if we just asked them what would happen if we invaded. You know, what if we just got straight to the point?\"\n\nThe room fell silent, and then entire team looked up, their eyes wide. \n\n\"Brilliant.\" Breathed Urgle, \"Utterly brilliant. Team! I want all your resources on this! At once!\"\n\n***\n\nBy Leo", "It bothers me, this common trope that the type of aliens who come to Earth are either entirely advanced or hell-bent on destruction, although I guess those two aren’t mutually exclusive. That in order to make this long trip across the vast ocean of space and time that there must be some sort of pointed mission, the Earth a long anticipated destination. Some sort of archetypal Magellan, or Marco Polo. This almost disingenuous presumption of grandeur about ourselves. To me, the much more compelling story is the wayward alien junk ship filled with sociologists just outside the scope of their current grant, hoping to find some subject at least interesting enough to warrant continued funding of their misadventures. A ragtag group of misanthropes wanting to essentially fuck with groups of unaware participants. Pretty much just a better veiled Jane Goodall. \n\nAnd sure, you’re telling yourself, “Well that’s also a pretty common trope”. The obscure abductions and anal probes, hidden in mystery trying to understand our species better. Trying to gather enough information about us to better their own civilization. And I suppose my argument is that this isn’t particularly compelling either, because it places scientific inquiry on this grand pedestal. That advanced civilizations have perfected their funding systems to such an extent that a group of aliens would sacrifice their own ego for the betterment of their species. That they all immediately grasp onto some sort of utilitarian notion of society. Of course this is all just a way of trying to relate aliens to the common assumptions about human nature that we all exhibit, but I truly believe selfishness is a much more basic notion than collective society. \n\n\nAnd I mean of course this group of poorly funded, academically minded, self-serving, group that has been stuck in what is essentially a space Winnebago, might just want to have some fun with this random blue planet they flew past. Funding be damned, there is probably a more interesting subject a few hundred light years away. So as the story would naturally go, instead of this well calculated scientific endeavor, they land on the planet. They make a few prank phone calls. Maybe abduct a few people, make them play alien Jenga. A few anal probes for good measure. Steal a few socks from the dryer, shine their brights outside of Marfa to the delight of conspiracy deluded onlookers. Turn water into wine, get their own prime-time mega church. You know, what anyone would do. But every alien story has to have a twist of course. I mean what kind of story would be worth reading if it didn’t have a twist.\n\nSo here we are, the most important part of the story. Think about it. A story can’t be compelling unless it recalls pop-culture references, or turns the entire premise on its head. Or best, causes the reader to go, “Dude, so meta.” A good story is never a simple story. You hear that! The now mega powerful church pastor, jenga playing, sock stealing aliens find the internet. And they decide to get random strangers to write lots of stories about aliens. To dilute the pool to such an extent that people get sick of all notions of aliens. And they post prompt after prompt of essentially the same story again and again. And the people eat it up, don’t get bored at all. Write longer and more lavish stories. Make the aliens feel completely let down by their own lives. They aren’t taking over any planets, they come from lower middle class families. They don’t have any coordinated efforts to make the Earth a better place. \n\nAnd the twist! The aliens are actually time travelling Hitlers from the planet Batman. They were all born with numbers over their head, corresponding simultaneously to lifespan and super-power ability. In fact this whole story is just a response to a prompt with a veiled complaint about the state of this subreddit. Yes! I’m breaking the fourth wall! Is this what you wanted? I’m talking to you, yes specifically you. Mike and Sarah! Well that should at least cover something like ten percent of people reading this. “Dude, so meta.” Have you heard of the underrated TV show Community by the way?\n\nBut then again. Who are we to tell people what to like? Whose high horse am I on? I'm scared and I want to get off.\n" ]	8
	[WP] Tell me a story about the Council of Goats	[ "If you’ve ever been present at a meeting of the Council of Goats then you’re a two-bit, barefaced, scummy liar and I want nothing to do with you. No human has ever been to a gathering of the Council of Goats. \n\nI bet you think the Council of Goats is some kind of cute congregation of large hoofed and horned creatures perched precariously on the edge of a crevice, bleating expletives at each other (for all we know). But you would be wrong. It refers to a far more nefarious assemblage.\n\nThe Council of Goats takes place once every three hundred years, in a remote and frigid region of the world. At each Council, the creatures of the underworld rise through the ground, melting the snow and ice that surrounds them. Once the Council has gathered, three goats are sacrificed, to commemorate the beginning of a new gathering. Over the course of three days all light is overcome by darkness and the creatures emit a dim roar that slowly binds their being together. \n\nOn the third day, at the stroke of midnight, their spirits become one and a shriek that echoes across the earth for days is heard. With each reverberation, children under the age of two drop dead in their mother's hands and their souls drift towards the Council. When the Council of Goats has ended, the creatures slip back into separate bodies and each takes a portion of souls back to the underworld. These souls are their sustenance. \n\nI hope you understand why I believe anyone who says they've been to a gathering of the Council of Goats is a goddamn liar.\n", "The three billy goats sat in leather armchairs in their council seats. The middle one spoke with a deep booming voice. They had just declared me guilty for crimes against goatkind. My infraction? Merely questioning the Council's decision to call plastic edible. \n\n\"The Council of Goat's has spoken\"\n\nThe Council member that sat on the left bleated in agreement. All three looked smug with their decision, while I looked upon them with disgust. It was not even that long ago that they declared Tin Can's not only edible, but a staple in all Goat diet.\n\nThe Tyranny of the system was too much to bear. Now I was to wait on my sentencing. But I was not going to wait on their decision.\n\n\"I declare myself a sheep.\"\n\n\"A sheep? You cannot do that!\" one of the judges exclaimed.\n\n\"I can and I shall! According to Division C of Docket 63AJ9K7 under jurisdiction 8 under Alpha Code 6Y of 12th Council of Goats, upon a guilty verdict, a goat can declare himself a sheep and retire to the grazing pastures, if he is at least 1/16th sheep. I am now legally a sheep, and demand to be released to my grazing pasture!\"\n\nThe room was abuzz with confused bleating and baaing, as the perplexed Council attempted to find any legal document that contradicted my statement. I knew that I couldn't actually do that, however the Council wouldn't understand the legal jargon I had just spewed. I also knew that since all legal jargon is written on paper, and paper being a staple in a goat's diet, plenty of legal documents have gone missing over the years, many of which disappear after the Council's lunch.\n\n\"I evoke Sheep Status!\" I declared yet again to the amazement of the Council court. \n\n\"Fine. We accept your Sheep status. Take him away to the pastures,\" the leading Council member said.\n\nI was dumbfounded. My trick had actually worked. Two bailiffs sauntered over and unshackled me, before leading me out of the Council chambers. I was finally free from tyranny! And from my freedom, I will bring a wrath of vengeance upon the Council and their followers. For I am the Boer King! King of the Boer Goats; I shall lead an army of sheep, who will blindly follow me into battle, to [reclaim my kingdom once again.](http://static.fjcdn.com/pictures/Goat+simulator+new+dlc+omg+retoast_fab26d_5082394.jpg)", "There once was a council of goats. They lived in a car with a moat. They had a big gavel and strode on a saddle, and gave that mean Billy a jolt. As he fell in the moat, the council did gloat and mean Billy ran away in a huff. The youngest of all members, his name McGruff, thought it quite rude. He called them quite childish, so the council decided to give the young goat the boot.", "\"You have been bad,\" said the head councilgoat, his voice echoing powerfully around the cavernous limestone chamber. \"BAAAAAAAAAD.\" \n\nMax tapped his hooves crossly. \n\n\"I don't see what the big deal is,\" he said. \n\n\"The deal?\" whinnied one of the smaller councilgoats. \"The deal? Did you not hear the lead prosecutor's opening statements, all of three minutes ago? You have been charged with perpetuating a hurtful and politically inflammatory stereotype.\" \n\n\"I drew one cartoon with a goat eating a can,\" said Max. \"How does that perpetuate anything? I thought freedom of expression meant something in this country.\" \n\n\"Goats,\" said the prosecutor, \"do not eat cans.\" \n\n\"We, like, chew on them a little, at most,\" whined a councilgoat. \n\n\"The humans are bad enough, stating all the time that the world's first and only island nation of sentient goats doesn't deserve a spot in the UN General Assembly,\" said the head councilgoat, his voice rising in pitch. \"We toil every day to earn their respect and undermine the very stereotypes that you, in your so-called 'cartoons,' are busy fluffing up for a cheap human laugh.\" \n\n\"Goats love my cartoons too,\" said Max. \"Blue-collar goats, sure. Your typical everygoat. But since when do those citizens matter less than you do?\" \n\n\"Since we were selected by Goat God to rule this island!\" trumpeted the head councilgoat, slamming his gavel on the stand. \"Guilty! I find this goat guilty!\" \n\nAs the guards led Max away, he briefly considered kicking one of them in the head. At the end of the day, though, they were just doing their jobs. \n\n\"Sorry about this,\" one of them whispered in his ear. \"I think your cartoons are hilarious.\" \n\nMax couldn't help but bleat a sad laugh.", "I've only got the one. Most people who have a story about the Council have also got themselves killed. But yeah. Yeah, I've got a story.\n\n'bout thirty years gone, I was up in the mountains. That's where the Council meets. \n\nI'd been through a bad breakup. It hurt. The kind of aching emptiness that can only be filled with solitude. Amy and I - I had thought we were one. Together for all time. All time. Now, I had nothing but time.\n\nI needed some time. Time by myself.\n\n Just me and my backpack. Just me and the big sky overhead. I got myself lost. That was the way I wanted it. That's what I got.\n\nI found myself in a valley, surrounded on all sides by the sheer surfaces of stone. Steep sides led down to a grassy plateau. At the bottom, a circular grass area contained a circular stone table. \n\nIntrigued, I made my way down. \n\nThe stone table was carved, painstakingly, with intricate symbols. I didn't know what they meant, but they were infused with an inherent meaning and power that I recognised on a primal level.\n\nAnd behind me, a noise.\n\nI spun around, and there I saw one of the elders. His long grey beard and intelligent eyes. His gnarled and twisted horns. I looked for an exit, but saw.\n\nI was surrounded on all sides.\n\n\"So,\" the goat said. \"You have finally come.\"\n\nI didn't know what to say. I was overwhelmed by the magic of the place.\n\n\"After all the years. All the prophecies. The Human Who Will Arrive.... has arrived.\"\n\n\"In accordance with the prophecies,\" the other goats said in unison.\n\nThe elder goat stepped towards me. \"This is the Council of Goats,\" he said. \"For two hundred long years, and twenty short years, and three or four that really just flew past, we have awaited you. You are here to fulfil our destiny.\"\n\n\"'kay,\" I said.\n\n\"Will you bestow us with the truth?\" he asked.\n\n'kay,\" I said again.\n\nHe bleated loudly to the sky. The others followed suit. They led me to the table by shrinking their circle until I had no choice but to stand on it.\n\n\"Speak!\" The elder told me. \"Speak the truth!\"\n\nI felt the power of the place. I felt it. Deep inside. \"Ask me your question, Council! Ask me, and I shall speak!\"\n\nThe elder goat spoke: \"Did you dump her, or did she dump you?\"\n\n\"Wha... What?\"\n\n\"Did you dump her, or did she dump you?\"\n\nI swallowed. \"Amy?\"\n\n\"Amy!\" The goats all shouted.\n\n\"Well,\" I said. \"It's complicated, you know?\"\n\nThere was an aggressive growling. The goats raked the ground. \"You promised you would speak the truth!\" They shouted.\n\n\"I will!\" I said, \"I will! I mean... it was... see... the thing was, that we just wanted different things, and -\"\n\n\"Did she dump you or did you dump her?\" They shouted.\n\n\"It was mutual!\" I said.\n\nThey bleated laughter at me. \"You got dumped!\" They shouted.\n\nThe elder spake last. \"Fucking loser.\"" ]	5
I don't know if this prompt has been used before,it probably has been.But here's how I think a conversation would be. Random Person:Hey insert name here You:Hello.It's me. Random Person :Urm I realized it's you,are you ok? You:FUCK YOU PIIIIIIG!FUCK YOU PIIIIIIIG!FUCK YOU PIIIIIIIG! Random Person : Hell's wrong with you today?Are you ok man? You:I'm sorry but I'm walking away...	[WP]You can only talk in song lyrics/names.Explain a normal day in your life,with some conversations if possible.	[ "\"Hello, it's me\"\n\n\"Pleased to meet you, won't you guess my name?\"\n\nGuess HER name? \"My name is chicka chicka Slim Shady\"\n\nThe girl nodded. \"They call me the Hiphopopotamus, my lyrics are bottomless.\"\n\nA gentle pause came between us.\n\n\"So what do you want from me?\"\n\n\"I just want to be loved by you.\"\n\n\"Love stinks.\"\n\nNow she's walking awayyyyy." ]	1
	[WP]On a cold winter night, a woman is about to have her first child, her husband standing by her side. Death stands at the foot of the hospital bed, listening. Waiting.	[ "The father stood by the bed as she screamed and pushed, willing the baby to come out. He didn't look at her, and didn't dare touch her; his eyes were fixed on the cloaked figure at the end of the bed, scythe in hand, waiting patiently. \n\n\"Who are you here for?\" The father finally managed to ask, his voice a murmur and barely audible over her pained moans. \n\n\"Who do you want me to be here for?\" Death asked, dead eyes flickering as a semblance of a grin marked his bony face. The father didn't answer, looking at his wife and then down between her legs where the head of his firstborn was visible. He shook his head, refusing to answer; afraid that his answer would sentence one of them to death. \"Come on,\" Death prompted, \"You have to pick one.\"\n\nThe father shook his head again, a tear in his eye. \"I'm not playing your game. I don't want either of them to die.\" Death smiled now, shifting his scythe from his left hand to his right, as if he were preparing to strike. \n\n\"Well, somebody has to die, right? I wouldn't be here otherwise. Who will it be?\" The father looked at the emerging body of the child; this baby he didn't even know yet loved with all his heart. Then he looked at his wife, her beautiful features still apparent through the sweat and screaming. He couldn't bear the thought of losing either of them, but there was Death, patiently waiting for a victim.\n\n\"The baby... Take the baby,\" the father finally decided. \"We can always try again another time.\" His wife didn't even look up, her full focus on pushing out the child, dead or alive. Death took a step forwards and the father flinched. Death smiled.\n\n\"No, you won't be able to try again.\" Before the father could process what was meant, the Death's bony hand reached out to tap him on the chest; nothing more than a fingertip boring through his shirt to touch his skin. The father gripped his chest in agony and fell to the ground, and by the time the doctor abandoned the mother's side, his heart had stopped and Death was gone. The mother screamed still. She screamed as she pushed out a healthy baby boy and she screamed in mourning at the death of her beloved husband.\n\n*****\n\nThanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! ", "This was not the first time nor would it be the last time Death stood at the foot of a bed during childbirth. There was something different about this one. He felt it the moment of conception. Even now, Death did not understand what it was about this one. Even combing through the ages of memories that had been gathered, spanning all of time, there was no answer forthcoming.\n\nThe screaming of the mother intensified, signaling that the time had come. Death would find answers to the question that weighed heavily these many months. \n\nThey had been protected, this mother and son. Unlike all the other lives since the beginning, he had seen and understood. Only then was it possible to take a life. That was the one rule that Death has followed for eternity, and only then could judgement be rendered on a life. Death had made attempts at taking the life of both due to this unknown complication. Unexpected circumstance justified improvisation. \n\nThe mother screamed and the husband sat beside his wife, trying to create calmness by urging her to breathe normally. It was almost over.\n\nDeath attempted to probe the child once more before the act could be undone. The probe into the mind of the child forced Death backward, almost into a stumble and drove a coldness into his dark core. Not in that Death had the ability to see the fate of the boy or his mother, but now the vision of the world had been taken. All the lives were no longer his to see. Death surmised this is how humans must feel when they could not breathe.\n\nThe final push brought the baby boy into the world, and the nurses quickly tended to the child. Death could only stare at the child. Powerless. There was nothing to read from the frail little being. For the first time, Death was unable to see what was to come. ", "\"I can't have it here!\" the wife screamed. \"I need to get to a hospital!\" \nThe husband nodded in agreement. \"I know, but we won't make it in time. Think about it - you could have our baby halfway down the mountain in our Subaru or you could have it here in nature. There's probably an animal out there right now having a baby same as you!\" \nThe wife moaned in pain. The large swell of her stomach felt like it was going to burst. The husband was stuffing blankets under the wife's back to prop her up. \n\"I knew I shouldn't have come camping right now,\" she said. Tears streaked her face - the oils from her unwashed skin swept away. \n\"The doctor said it was going to be at least another three weeks,\" said the husband. The wife moaned again and started breathing: puff, puff, puff. The tent was alive with light and warmth and two people about to become three. \nThe air outside the tent on the mountain was chilly. A dark robed figure hung around beneath a large tree where food hung in a bag. The figure stared at the tent with its deep, dark sockets, tapping quietly on a stick it had picked up a couple miles back. Funny things, sticks. Essentially dead pieces of trees. Akin to mobile life losing a finger and just leaving it lie. \nThe figure continued to listen to the couple in the tent while moving its attention to a nearby plant still trying to make it work even though the sun had not reached its parched leaves for two weeks. \n\"I want drugs!\" the wife said in agony. \"I'm going to mess all of our stuff up. Blood and shit and when you see that you're going to puke. You want to bring the baby into all of that?\" \n\"Baby's going to have to get used to those things anyway,\" said the husband. He bent down to check how the baby might be coming along but couldn't find anything. Was there supposed to be a head somewhere? \nThe figure outside the tent scoffed. It bent down to the plant. The poor thing almost shivered from the figure's touch. The plant wilted, but the figure waved to something unseen. With that task complete, it turned its attention back to the tent, moving swiftly but silently through the brambles. Even if the figure had been able to make noise while walking, the woman's screams from inside the tent would more than hide the sound. \n\"I see it!\" the husband said, joy embracing each word. \"You should push! Push, push!\" \nThe wife was pushing, the figure could hear every last moan and grunt. Something caught its attention out of the corner of a socket. Not too long now. \n\"I've got it!\" the husband proclaimed. \"You did it! We did it! Here, I saw this on a video, let the baby crawl up your stomach and nurse.\" \nDrawn by the smell of blood and anguished cries, the figure now saw three wolves. The wolves paid it no attention as they brushed by. The figure let its fingers stroke their fur, but the wolves only looked back quizzically, not sure what just happened.\nThe husband stepped out of the tent, ecstasy on his face. \"You hear that world?!\" he cried to the stars. \"It's a girl! We made a girl!\" \nThe wolves descended then, flashes of gray and red as they ripped into their fresh meat. The tent, open from when the husband left, shrieked and sobbed and then went quiet. The robed figure knelt down while the wolves hungrily ate. It touched the husband first then went into the tent. Blood was everywhere. The figure touched the new mother and baby, one with each hand. \nTwo pale ghosts then stood before Death, one with a smaller ghost in its arms. \n\"You shouldn't have gone camping,\" said Death and waved as the shocked figures slowly vanished. \nThe wolves feasted as Death made its way through the forest. There were still a few trees to reap, but all in all, a good night for it. ", "The woman screamed with the next contraction, pushing with all her might. It was her first child, and the birth was a difficult one. \"Susanna Rondo,\" Death murmured to himself, as he looked down at his wrist. Invisible to onlookers, he was still a very real player in the events around him.\n\nHe was somewhat of a curious character, Death. Grim Reaper was a bit of a misnomer, a nightmare of those afraid of what Death represented. Death appeared more as a kindly grandfather, though most stories did get one thing right: he did quite like the color black.\n\nDeath checked his wristwatch again- only a few moments to go, before a new, young creature came into this world.\n\nWhat was death without life, after all? For each new birth, Death did what he could to stop by. It made him smile as the babes screamed for the first time, and laugh as the mothers saw their new child's face- an ode to his oldest of friends, Yahweh.\n\nDeath knew that he would see these people again- the doctor urging the woman along, the husband in a near-faint, the woman, and (soon) the child. And when he did, he would talk to them about their lives, their loves, the people they knew that traveled In and out of this world. He would soothe them, take their hand and lead them gently to the nether. \n\nAnd so, Death's watch ticked, listening for the cry he knew was forthcoming. \n\n\n\nAnd there it was.\n" ]	4
	[WP] You are the first person in the history of mankind to talk to God.	[ "\"What are you doing?\"\n\nA warm, comforting voice filled my ears while he was frozen in his wince of momentary pain. The room was white. Bright. Yet not annoyingly so. He relaxed and spun around, attempting to gain some closure as to where he was. A young boy stood to his six in blue jeans and a white v-neck. Brown hair gently touched his shoulders and golden eyes pierced shown like sapphire. \n\n\"Where am I? What is this place?\" \n\nThe boy walked towards him. Bare feet slapping the ground. \"The where is not as important as the why, Joshua.\" His voice did not fit his appearance. Better fit for an elderly man, maybe. \n\nJoshua felt an oddness coming from the boy. Like something to be feared. Adorned. Loved. At the same time the boy terrified him. The air felt thick and heavy. Different. \"Who are you? And why am I here, then?\"\n\nThe boy stopped a few feet from him, \"You are here to make a choice, son.\" His eyes seemingly pierced into Joshua's soul as a deafening silence filled the already heavy air. \n\nJoshua's mind ran rampant with both confusion and frustration. \"Are you going to talk in riddles the whole time, or can we just skip to the point and tell me what the fuck is going on?\" He felt his blood begin to boil. The last thing he remembered is... Nothing. A bright flash? \n\n\"Joshua you've been running from me a long time. It's time you come back.\"\n\nHis heart shuttered at the boys statement. Joshua fell to his knees. \"Am I dead?\" Warmth flooded his eyes. Memories of his wife and daughter flooded his mind. He would never see them again. Would they be okay without him? What would happen?\n\nThe boy stooped down to his knees and put a hand in his shoulder. \"That depends on your choice, Joshua.\" Joshua's heart skipped a beat. \"You were in an accident. If you survive you will be paralyzed from your chest down with limited use of your left arm.\"\n\nJoshua's heart sank. He stated at the boy for a long moment. \"And what if I die?\"\n\n\"Your wife will remarry in two years. He will be a good husband to her and treat your daughter like his very own. He will take very good care of them.\" \n\nJoshua's heart sank deeper and hurt. The pain of losing both his wife and daughter flooded his soul. \"And what of me, lord?\"\n\nThe boy gave a slight smile, \"you will come with me until your family joins us.\"\n\nAnger flooded his mind again as Joshua lashed out, \"so is this just some plot to get me to come back to you?!\"\n\nThe boy stood, \"what mankind does on earth I do not control. You have the means to fix every problem but do not use it because of choices you make collectively. Humanity is selfish. That is why you are here. A man decided to drink his fill and drive into you on the sidewalk. That was his choice. I am doing what I do: making the best of the situation.\"\n\nJoshua stared at the boy. What just happened?\n\n\"So the choice is yours, Joshua: Coke with me and later be joined by your family and experience true love and life, or go back there and finish out your life in a wheelchair.\"\n\nWith that, the boy stood and walked away. Joshua's heart sunk again. His mind span. \n\nHe decided...", "The chorus struck a crescendo and God fell from his mighty cloud and onto the cold Earth below. Man seized the dethroned deity's scepter and proclaimed through the heavens 'God is dead!' - and countless screams echoed from the heavens and into the mortal plane as Man slew God and his Angels. As the heavenly figures fell from Heaven and onto Earth, Man took up residence in the great halls of God and proclaimed their divinity to all of the cosmos.\n\nMan seized control. Man destroyed the known universe and built it in his image. Man carved out a realm that would stand for billions of years. \n\nMan grew lonely. \n\nMan made a small, quaint little creature to ease his loneliness, but it looked lonely too. So he made it a friend. And those two made more friends with each other, and those friends made friends of their own.\n\nSoon there were millions of these little creatures, but Man was still lonely. They didn't talk to Man: only each other. Man bestowed the gift of a conscious mind onto his creations, and they began to talk to Man.\n\nMan smiled.\n\nBut then Man frowned.\n\nHis creations pleaded to him to help them: to stop their suffering, to help them against the forces of evil. Many cried, but a few gave thanks to Man for the bountiful world granted to them, and those few that gave their thanks Man liked above the others. \n\nHe helped the gracious and left the unthankful to suffer. In return, the thankful showered Man with affection, and Man was happy once more.\n\nMan’s happiness did not last. His followers dwindled and the selfish seized their world, and they soon expanded far beyond the cradle Man had made for them: they colonized nearby planets and systems, cultivating entire suns to their needs. Only a select few thanked Man for his efforts now, but it was not enough. He wanted more.\n\nMan always wanted more.\n\nMan waged war against his creation, but his creation fought back. His creation stunned Man with such ferocity that they broke through the Pearly Gates and marched across heaven, looting and burning Man’s followers as they went. \n\n‘Death to God!’ They chanted, and Man frowned. God was a name he hadn’t heard for a long time. They arrived at Man’s throne and a battle of the universe’s greatest powers was fought, but Man could not withstand the onslaught of his creations.\n\nThe chorus struck a crescendo and Man fell from his mighty cloud and onto the cold Earth below. His creation seized his scepter and proclaimed through the heavens 'God is dead!' - and countless screams echoed from the heavens and into the mortal plane as his creations slew Man and his followers. As the heavenly figures fell from Heaven and onto Earth, Man realized the irony of the situation and bellowed a withered laugh before falling to his doom.\n\nAnd then Man’s creations took up residence in Heaven and decided to wipe the slate clean and reform the universe in their image ... ", "\"You mean... you're real?\" I stared at him dumbfounded as he stroked his flowing beard and chuckled.\n\n\"Yes, obviously. How else would you be talking to me?\" I shook my head, trying to get my things straight and articulate my questions. He laughed and interrupted my thoughts. \"You think billions of people have been praying to nothing like a bunch of blind fools? Come on, now. You knew there had to be something bigger.\"\n\nI gaped at him, trying to understand. I was a devout atheist, having spent my life laughing at religious zealots who followed some invisible deity who cast destruction and misery willy-nilly about the world. \"But then why?\"\n\nHe raised his eyebrows, seemingly irritated with my line of questioning. \"Is that really your question? Why? Why what? You ate cereal this morning because you chose to. I don't micromanage. You got hit by that drunk driver because he chose to drink. That wasn't up to me. I don't control you all.\"\n\nI frowned. \"But what about destiny? Don't you choose what will happen to each person?\" \n\nHe laughed out loud now and shook his head. \"Seriously? You think I have the time for that? I'm a dozen episodes behind on my favorite show, still have to magically create my wife's grocery list and sweep the house or she'll kick me out and you think I have time to create some sort of plan for each of you?\"\n\nIt made sense, I suppose. Maybe at the beginning he had micromanaged each human, but with over seven billion people, that would take longer than an immortal's lifetime. \"But then what about the Holocaust and genocides and starvation? Why do you let that happen?\" \n\nHe stared at me oddly for a second, as if I was a bit daft. \"It's not up to me. Hitler thinks his own thoughts and his followers think their own thoughts and they kill whoever they want to kill. Hell is basically endless. I'll get tired of the universe's existence before we fill it up. Plagues and starvation are the same deal. It's ultimately up to you guys to stop them, or maybe you can't stop them, but at some point somebody's decision could have avoided just about anything.\"\n\n\"So then what do you do?\"\n\nHe shrugged, a bored look on his face. \"Nothing much nowadays, to be honest. I made all you things on Earth and it turned out pretty well for several thousand years before you humans started to mess things up. There's more life out there and I'm just waiting for you guys to find it. Its like my own reality TV show and now and then I talk to some of the cast, like you.\" With that, he waved his hand, dismissing me.\n\n\"Wait.\" He turned to me, annoyed. \"Who decides who goes to Heaven or Hell?\"\n\nHe laughed again, a bit more darkly. \"Nobody. There is no Heaven. There's only Hell.\" And with a snap of his fingers, I was in what must have been Hell.\n\n****\n\nThanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! ", "\"So, what have you heard about me?\"\n\nAaron shuffled, \"Can't you, uh, read minds and things? So wouldn't you know what I've heard anyways?\"\n\nThe man sitting across from him threw back his head and laughed. \"Well, you've got me there. You want me to prove the mind-reading bit to you?\"\n\n\"Well...yeah, I guess. Hang on a second while I think.\"\n\n\"Let me know when you're ready.\"\n\n\"But, wouldn't you already know if I'm ready or not if you can read my mind?\"\n\nAnother laugh. \"I'm just messing with you. You're sharp, though. Go ahead, take your time.\"\n\nHe furrowed his brow, straining to think of something that would make him seem interesting to his conversation partner.\n\nThe man, middle-aged from his appearance, dressed in jeans and a Star Wars t-shirt sipped at his coffee, grinning. \"Alright, you're thinking of a verse from a silly book some of you seem to believe about who I am, what I've done, and what people I'm mad at. Need I say more?\"\n\nNodding, he replied, \"I'd like to hear your your response, if that's okay with you.\"\n\nThe man adjusted his glasses, leaning forward. \"'God is love.' Not such a bad idea! Closer than a lot of folks who are so sure I'm some white-bearded homophobe on a big uncomfortable chair in the sky scolding everybody for touching their privates too much. Ha!\"\n\nAaron smiled too. \"You could make a lot of people a whole lot happier by setting the record straight on that whole bit.\"\n\nThe man nodded in agreement. \"I'll take it under consideration.\"\n\nAaron hesitated a moment, glanced nervously at the man's expression, who had a mischievous grin on his face now. \"Oh...pretend I don't* already know what you want to ask me. Go ahead.\"\n\nLooking around at the other people in the cafe, he muttered, \"Why am I the first one you've talked with? These other folks are just like me. And why now?\"\n\n\"Any guesses?\"\n\n\"Uh...I really don't...I don't even get how this is possible or if I'm just dreaming, let alone what motivates the supreme ruler of the universe.\"\n\n\"You don't have anything I need. I don't have an agenda to hand down to you. I know you're too lazy to go out preaching some other religion at people, and only the total nutjobs would believe what you had to say in the first place.\"\n\n\"I'm relieved.\"\n\n\"I'm surprised you didn't figure it out, though. You've been scoring all kinds of points with me before now. Okay, Aaron. What's your last name?\"\n\n\"Aaden.\"\n\n\"And together, that makes...\"\n\n\"Aaron Aaden. I don't get why that...oh. You're serious?\"\n\n\"I'm just going through alphabetically. Nothing wrong with that, is there?\" He grinned. \"As to why now, just take it from me that I've been busy taking care of some very important things in a galaxy far, far away.\"\n\nAaron couldn't help but laugh. \"I'm sorry, just this whole thing is so much different than I'd ever thought this might play out. You're a lot different than I thought you might be.\"\n\nThe man drained his cup, and let out a satisfied breath. \"It's a good different, I wager.\"\n\n\"It is.\"", "\"You know, God explicitly said he doesn't want us to be dicks.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but that's just the Bible. You think God really talked to the guys who wrote the Bible? No way. I'll be a dick if I want to.\"\n\nI let out a long, heavy sigh and sat back further in my seat. This would be hard to explain. A guy like him, a Deist like our dear Founding Fathers, wasn't going to believe that I had spoken with God. \"I mean, yeah, I agree, but that... that doesn't.... I know he's definitely said that assholes are probably going to Hell. And hey, don't quote me on this or anything, but he also might have said you, especially, are going there.\"\n\nLuc stared at me from the other side of his table, eyes squinted, his fork hovering over his plate. \"The fuck do you mean? Dude, you need to lay off the salvia. It's messing with your head.\"\n\n\"No, I swear to God — literally — he said that. I haven't smoked that in a while, anyways, you know that. But... ok, and I just need you to suspend your disbelief for a sec, 'cause you're not gonna believe me.\" I took a deep breath in and let it back out through my teeth, not making eye contact with him. \"But I've talked to God. Like, he was in the line behind me at 7-11 a few days ago.\"\n\n\"You're lying. But you're a damn good storyteller.\" He took a sip of his coffee and smiled. I didn't smile back.\n\n\"Not lying. He tapped me on the shoulder, told me I shouldn't be buying beer on Christmas, that I should be with my family. I asked him why he was in 7-11 and not 'upstairs', and he said he had decided it was time to check in on what he'd created. I was the first person he ran into.\"\n\n\"How'd you know he was God?\"\n\n\"He looked like him. You know. Like Jesus, kinda, but older. Raggedy clothes. A beard.\"\n\nHe pointed out the window at a homeless man across the street, wiggling his finger in little circles. \"You sure it wasn't just one of those guys?\"\n\n\"He wasn't a hobo, Luc, he was God, I could feel it. A divine energy or some shit. It was weird. The cashier couldn't see him, he must've thought I was crazy, discussing Heaven and Hell and vices and virtues with myself.\"\n\nIn some kind of act of surrender, Luc put his fork down on the plate and wiped his lips with his napkin. \"Okay, whatever. Man, you're fucking crazy.\" He stood up and started walking away. \"And like I said, stop smoking.\"\n\nI turned to look at the seat next to me.\n\n\"He's definitely going to Hell,\" God chuckled.", "“Okay, so there’s the thing, though, God…”\n\n It would be impossible to guess how long this conversation had been going on for. Ever since I’d died from that car accident, somehow my soul managed to slip through the cracks of the whole death cycle and end up in God’s office. Since then, I hadn’t exactly given him the opportunity to kick me out; the moment I saw the nameplate on his desk, reading ‘GOD’ in shining golden print, I had a million questions to ask and had no plans to leave until all of them were answered. In fact, I don’t even recall introducing myself to him, let alone telling the man a simple hello; I went straight to the interrogation.\n\nBut we’d been going at this for a while now, and I continued to press on, “I agree with you that that we, as humans, need to make our own decisions. I get that we need to understand that there’s repercussions for doing bad things, and that we can’t expect you to make every bad decision have a positive outcome. You told me it’d be extremely stressful for you if you tried to fix all of your children’s’ mistakes, and I get that. I do. I mean, I was a software developer before all this happened and I had to deal with—I mean, I guess I don’t have to explain it. I guess you already know all about that, being God and all.”\n\nPerhaps he had nothing to say, or perhaps I never gave him the opportunity to do so. Either way God hadn’t stepped in to say anything, so I kept talking, “The thing is, how can you just let such terrible things happen? How can you sit up here and watch children starve, or watch families die in natural disasters, or just allow children to be stuck with abusive parents? You have the power to stop it, you know? You could save a lot more lives and help our world be such a nicer place to live in! Why create imperfect humans? Why give some so much privilege, but others so little, or none?” I was getting to the point of hysterics. I continued to disguise my rant as a stream of questions, instead. “Why are there wannabe mothers that can’t have children? Why is there even disease in the first place?”\n\nI stood up from my chair and slammed a hand down upon his desk. The head of the Snoopy figurine that sat beside his laptop bobbled. “Why did you make humans and let us walk around with so many flaws? We have no idea what we’re doing!”\n\nAt this point God scoffed and raised his hands into the air, throwing himself backwards in his luxurious leather computer chair and shouting, “Jesus Christ, and you think I do?”\n" ]	6
	[WP] A ghost possesses a computer printer. No one realizes anything is abnormal.	[ "Bob shouted out to the office;\n\n\"Who the hell keeps trying to print out copies of the necronomicon?\" \n\nDave rolled his eyes and got up from his desk, he hated being the guy who had to sit next to this infernal machine.\n\n\"What is it this time?\" asked Dave.\n\nBob held out pages of something that looked like bleeding heavy metal album covers. \n\n\"This bullshit is getting printed again,\" said Bob.\n\nDave examined the papers and sighed, this had been going on all week. \n\n\"This printer is bluetoothed isn't it?\" asked Bob, \"I'll bet some teenager with a tablet is accessing it from off-sight somewhere and printing this as a joke. Isn't this printer password protected?\" \n\n\"I thought it was,\" said Dave as he got on the phone to the IT department. \n\n\"Hello IT.\"\n\n\"Frank, it's Dave again, this fuckin printer is printing nonsense again,\" said Dave\n\n\"What is it this time?\" asked Frank.\n\n\"Ah some god damn bullshit apocalyptic nonsense. It looks like Tim Lahaye on acid,\" said Dave.\n\n\"Have you tried turning it off and on?\" asked Frank.\n\n\"Hold on,\" said Dave.\n\nDave reached over to the printer and flicked the on off switch. This caused the printer to violently judder and spray blood. \n\n\"Cripes, now the ink cartridge is acting up!\" said Dave, \"It's leaking red ink all over the bloody place!\" \n\n\"Red ink? That printer isn't even supposed to have colour! Some idiot put the wrong cartridge inside, no wonder it's acting up,\" said Frank. \n\nBob, who was standing closest to the printer, got angry with the printer spraying blood all over him and he pulled an axe out of a nearby fire hose cabinet and smashed the printer to pieces. \n\n\"God damn that thing! This shirt was a Hoffstetter!\" Bob shouted in anger. \n\n\"Hold up, Frank, Bob just went all Lizzie Borden on the printer,\" said Dave.\n\n\"Yeah, it doesn't matter,\" said Frank, \"Sounds like the printer was fucked anyway. If you put the wrong cartridge the heads get permanently fucked up, you can't fix that.\" \n\n\"Figures,\" said Dave. ", "“Yes, that’s what it said on the screen,” I said. “Feed me blood.”\n\n“Hmm,” said the technician on the phone. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen that one before. And you’re sure there was no error code? Without an error code, I can’t really look this up.”\n\n“No error code,” I said. It just keeps saying feed me blood on the screen every time I try to print. Weird, right?”\n\n“Well, not as weird as you’d think,” said the technician. “Up until a few years ago, these machines were made overseas. A lot of the error messages tend to be cryptic like this. Bad translations, you know? That’s why I need the error code.”\n\n“I’m telling you,” I said. “There is no error code.”\n\n“There’s always an error code,” said the technician.\n\nAbout this time, some sales guy from downstairs was approaching the machine with a stack of paperwork to copy. I snapped my fingers at the secretary and motioned to the guy.\n\n“Can’t use the printer now, Harvey,” she said, “It’s out of blood or something.”\n\n“But I’m just making copies,” said the sales guy.\n\nOn the phone, the technician was asking me, “Did you try restarting the machine?”\n\nThe secretary said, “Can’t use it for anything. You’ll have to come back later.”\n\nI sighed and said, “Yes. I restarted it. I turned it off for awhile. I pulled everything apart. Everything looks fine as far as I can tell. The toner cartridges don’t feel empty. No paper stuck in it or anything like that. And look, I don’t know if this is relevant or helps you figure this out at all, but shortly before it started giving the error message, everything that we printed came out in what looked like, I don’t know, Latin or something?”\n\nOver by the printer, the sales guy was saying, “I’m meeting with a customer in twenty minutes. This is the only copier in the building. I need to use it now.” He was loading his documents up.\n\n“Well,” said the technician. “It probably wasn’t Latin. I mean, I think this model was made in Korea or somewhere like that. You sure it wasn’t Korean?”\n\n“I don’t think it was Korean,” I said.\n\n“Feed me blood?” murmured the sales guy. “Just what the hell does that mean?”\n\nI covered the phone receiver and yelled, “I’m working on it right now.”\n\nThe secretary said, “I told you. The printer’s broken, Harvey.”\n\n“But I’m just making copies,” repeated the sales guy, obviously agitated. “If I don’t have this paperwork ready in twenty minutes, I could lose this account!”\n\nThe technician said, “Are you still there?”\n\n“Yeah,” I said. “I’m here.”\n\n“I can put in a service call, but my guy won’t be able to make it out there until this afternoon.”\n\nThe sales guy was pounding on the buttons of the printer. “Feed me blood,” he repeated. I watched as he rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a black ball point pen. Without hesitation, he jabbed the pen into his wrist. The secretary shrieked. I cringed.\n\n“What the f—“ I started, but couldn’t complete my sentence as I looked on, horrified.\n\nThe sales guy, blood streaming from his wrist, looked at the screen and calmly punched a few buttons. He lifted the cover of the machine up and smeared his blood over the copier glass. A cool breeze drifted through the office and what sounded like a low moan emanated from the machine. A moment later, it whirred to life and started making copies of the sales guy’s documents. He gave me a smug look. “Was that so hard?”\n\nOn the phone, the technician said, “And that’s best case scenario. Realistically, he probably won’t be able to come out to take a look at the machine until tomorrow morning.”\n\n“You know what,” I told the technician. “It looks like the printer’s working again. I don’t think we need somebody to come out after all.”\n\n“Great,” said the technician. “These bugs have a way of working themselves out sometimes.”\n\n“Yeah,” I said.\n\nThe printer churned out copies, one after another, with a rhythmic hum. Maybe it was my imagination, but it sounded almost like chanting. Like a deep voice, reciting some malevolent prayer in Latin or Korean or something. I shook my head and took a sip of coffee. Now that was just ridiculous.", "I tap my finger on the printer while it whirs and clunks, sipping my coffee. It was already ten in the morning, and my statistic reports were only half finished.\n\nBZZ-RRRRRRRRR. CLUK, CLUK, CLUK, CLUK, CLUK....\n\nI reach the last few drops of my coffee. Whatever, it tasted like dirt anyway.\n\nCLUK, CLUK, CLUK, CLUK, CLUK, BZZ-RRRR....\n\nAnother paper slides out of the machine, joining the others as the printer continues to produce the rest of them. I set the warm coffee mug down on the top of it, and stretch my back, the vertebrae realigning themselves or exploding or something horrible like that.\n\n\"You should see a chiropractor. Sitting at that desk all day can't be good for your back.\" Jenny chirps from her desk by the window, the morning sun shining through the buildings of New York City and warming her beautiful face. I mentally imagine my wife slapping me for being attracted to her, then mentally replace Jenny with my wife so I wouldn't be attracted to her.\n\n\"And have him snap my neck? No thank you.\" I respond.\n\nShe giggles. \"They don't do that, silly. They just apply pressure until everything aligns.\"\n\n\"Just like that?\" I say. \"It just, snaps into place?\"\n\nShe giggles again and returns to her screen. Smiling, I look down as the last page slides out.\n\n*\n\n Status Report 10/4/16\n Tyler Gumberg\n\n\n\n\n\n\n A lot of blank space, what is this? A page for a drawing book? There's\n nothing to trace. You may as well buy blank paper at this point. \n The ways people are ripping each-other off these days....\n\n\n\n\n\n\nI frown, reading the unexpected message. Not funny, now I'd have to print this again. Whoever did this was about to have their lunch mysteriously removed from the office fridge. I check the second page to make sure it wasn't tampered with.\n\n\n\n Trade agreements with international parties took an unexpected drop this\n year. (Perhaps people saw the scam that exists in selling blank drawing \n books to kids?) The stock market on gardening decor dropped against our \n favor by 9.6%. (Ah, gardening decor. This just got considerably more \n boring.) Our pot plants and gardening tools are struggling to sell, (Really?\n Maybe that's because you live in New York fucking City.) recent statistics \n show no change after the drop that occurred three years ago, as seen here:\n\n \|\\\n \| \\\n \| \\\n \| \\\n \| \\\n \| \\\n \| \\__________________\n -------------------------------------\n\n Oh, dude. Get out now. While you still can.\n\n\n\n\n\nI chuckle. Yeah, I've been trying that for years. There is a pear-shaped, unloving, constantly screeching obstacle called 'Wife' in my way. \n\nJohn, I know it's you. Consider your potato salad gone. I take no prisoners.* \n\nI pick up the papers and walk over to the bin. " ]	3
	[WP] The blood on my hands scares me to death	[ "The blood on my hands scares me to death. It's why I'm constantly relocating from place to place. I've been here in San Antonio for about six months, but I know at some point the rage is going to come back. At this point, I'm not even scared of getting caught, I'm scared of what I'll do if and when I am caught. \n\nI often wonder if there's been a more conflicted existence than mine. I'm not a monster, but HE is. When the beast emerges, when he eventually gets brought out through fear or anger, innocent lives are lost. I cannot help but mourn the lives of my victims. If only there was a way for me to be killed.\n\nI look out at the vista before me, knowing that those police cruisers are headed my way. \"incredible?\" No, I think Hulk is the only word to describe what I'm undoubtedly about to become.", "He stares quietly at me, or rather the black ceiling of our apartment with shocked eyes. His face reminds me of the first time we first met, it was kind of funny, as I chuckle lightly to myself. He could have been compared to a deer in headlights with how he had looked. And now, he reminds me of that first time. I caress his face and memories come flying back at a breakneck speed. The first date, first kiss, finding the first secret. They were all special; a tear fell onto the lapel of his coat.\n\nI was confused at first, tried being a little more loving, giving a little more something to try to earn him back. When that hadn’t worked, I grew tired and angry. I couldn’t confront him and ask, so I colluded. It was a simple revenge but, it grew into something more. I was furious, frustrated, and betrayed. The little plans blueprints shrunk and grew with my mood until I settled onto an ultimatum to break his heart.\n\nSo, I got some roses for our anniversary and waited for his return from work, or that’s what he had told me. The door open and he smiled happily at me and my grip whitened to the smallest degree. Then, the door closed. He came in for a kiss and I slid the kitchen knife under his ribcage. The look of regret will never fade from my memory, but feeling of satisfaction felt like so… satisfying. So, I put more and more holes in him until we were covered in red. \n\nNow staring at his headlight eyes, I shed more tears. I remembered everything and now I wonder if it was worth it. Betrayal never always had to repaid in like, it shouldn’t feel so good. I fell on his body and cried, staining my clothes and hands, missing the thing I threw away. I have never hated myself, but I am so very close to it. \n\nTrying this out, so criticisms welcome!\n", "The blood on my hands right now is nothing compared to what it will soon be, and that terrifies me.\n\nI made the decision. I felt I was giving our world an advantage. I felt I was doing us all a service. This is where we are, though. This is what I've done.\n\nMy name is Jonah Kaufman. I am the lead researcher in a top secret program created by the UN to solve an issue that we discovered decades ago. There are other worlds. And there are ways to travel between them. If we were to get ahead of the other worlds in this technology, then we would have an advantage over them when travel between worlds became common.\n\nThat's where my research comes in. I hit a breakthrough. A way to channel the energy in our machines in a way that allowed us, for a short time, to open a portal to another world. \n\nOur own goddamned curiosity killed us all. We saw amazing worlds on the other side, and amazing creatures. We found a colossal creature, seemingly dead or unconscious. He had no signs of any life whatsoever. \n\nI sent a team through. I woke him from his slumber. Each member of the team went insane, killing each other. They were lucky to die so early.\n\nThe Old One has returned. I closed the portal, but that did nothing to stop him. Reality is not something I can distinguish anymore. I feel my own insanity creeping in. I know that they will claim my mind. I know I will lose control. I know I will let them through. \n\nThe voice echoes in my brain, as I lose control:\n\n\"That is not dead which can eternal lie,\n\nAnd with strange aeons even death may die.\"\n\n(I'm far too big of a Lovecraft fan.)", "Miss Braun\n\n\nMy mind is drifting. This is really quite frightening. Those lights! They keep flickering! It really is quite stuffy in here. It's making me drowsy. And so hot.\n\n\nMiss Braun\n\n\nI can't concentrate. Oh Adolf. My Adolf. You foolish and impetuous man. What have you done? Always foolishly rushing into things. Never taking any counsel but your own. And so here we are. Americans and British to the east. And I don't even want to think about what approaches from the west. We've been down here for weeks now. I need some air. I'm panicking now a bit. Oh Adolf you foolish man.\n\n\nMiss Braun\n\n\nBerlin is in ruins. The whole country is in ruins to be frank.\n\n\nMISS BRAUN!\n\n\n\"EVA!!\"\n\n\n\"Sorry, I was deep in thought, my apologies\"\n\n\n\"Miss Braun, the Fuhrer is adressing you\"\n\n\n\"I'm sorry. Yes Adolf?\"\n\n\nI want to see the sun again. These few men are all the friends we have left.\n\n\n\"Eva, concentrate. Please. Listen, this is important. I said, are you prepared to follow me anywhere?\"\n\n\n\"Yes Adolf. What else have I left to do? To be left hated and depised on my own? Of course I will go with you\"\n\n\n\"My dear, we have only the one option left open to us if we are to escape the worlds fury\"\n\n\"Any option is better than be holed up down here. And the blood on my hands scares me to death.\"\n\n\"Indeed\"" ]	4
	[WP] Love is the greatest form of bias.	[ "\"A woman? No, a succubus is what she is. A liar, a deceitful fiend who preys on the vulnerabilities of her opposition and twists words until you almost don't know what's being said. By the time she finishes a sentence you're inclined to agree with her just to save face. She's more slithery than a snake and more alluring than Venus, and she'd have you stabbing your best friend in the back if you're not on your toes every second you're in her presence.\"\n\nIt wasn't the first time we'd heard a rant like this; the boss liked to remind us. Rivalry and all that.\n\n\"She-- she's cocky, arrogant, she's backed by that damn family of hers, and if she doesn't get you, you can bet she'll tattle to her mob and you'll find a gun at your door within the week. One of us so much as sets foot in their neighborhood and she's got a thug interrogating you on the corner while she smirks down from her window.\"\n\nI considered making a remark. I knew things that most of the crew didn't, and there were only a couple of us there.\n\n\"I can't wait to slap that smug look right off her face myself. Just you lot wait and see, she'll step in on our business here and make a right mess of it. And she'll be laughing while she does it, laughing with that audacity.\"\n\nI almost didn't, but I couldn't resist. I was the boss' friend-- he was used to my playful jabs. It was a struggle to contain the snicker.\n\n\"I thought you were over her, boss?\"\n\n\"Do you want a demotion? Because that's how you get a demotion.\"\n\nHe's not over her.", "I love to write. I love to spend time with friends and I guess you could say my job has a greater positive effect on my life than a negative one. I love to explore my interests, delving into the darkest depths of the dangerous ditch I call my mind to find out exactly what makes me itch. What makes me happy, sad, want to jump for joy. I love my family too, despite being unable (or unwilling at times) to spend more time with them.\n\nBut there's something I love more. And that, reader, is laziness.\n\nWhat better way to spend time more appropriately suited for action than indulging inaction? To waste the hours away flitting from one phone application to the next, where neither app has even an iota of attention paid to it. Or to tell myself in extreme confidence that I'll pick up one of the four or five unfinished books and complete at least one, only to realise that not all my DVDs are on the shelf the same direction - it's such a pain having to tilt your head repeatedly. Even simple cleaning; I have a million and one excuses to tell myself to alleviate the responsibility of attending to well-overdue chores. My love for laziness can conjure up extreme hunger or devastating tiredness or alert my attention to some other mundane action I can expend almost all my energy on for very little productive reward.\n\nAnd yet I cradle my affliction like an ugly duckling, wittily referring to entropy as my key motivator (entropy being the theory that disorganisation in a large system favours the ultimate, overall functionality of the system itself - relevant really only in thermodynamics and not at all in 'real life'). \n\nReader, if you've made it this far, you must surely be asking yourself one question. How have I made it this far, given that my condition is so severe? It's simple, I ", "9th August 2005.\n\nTomorrow, I'm going to ask her to marry me. It was a...\n\nIt was perfect. It was. It was a perfect day.\n\nI went over to fix her computer (funny as fuck; power cord wasn't plugged in) and she said she'd take me out for lunch. I made a joke about something stupid, and she laughed so loud the whole restaurant looked over at us. Nobody else there could have been anything but jealous. I adored her for it. She told me an outrageous story about this woman she worked with. The lilt of her voice melts me. I could have listened to her all day. I walked her home afterwards. She kissed me and she whispered, 'this is just the beginning'.\n\n9th August 2015\n\nTomorrow, I'm going to ask her for a divorce. After spending half an hour installing the updates on her computer (how fucking hard is it to click OK when Adobe Reader asks you to?) She said she'd take me out for lunch. Like she wasn't draining the bank account with enough shit already. I tried to be good company, but it's impossible to be around her. I made a joke about something and she brayed like a goddamn donkey. Everyone was looking at us. I had to close my eyes to avoid their eyes. She droned through another story about that woman at work. My skin itched with the banality of it all. We went home again as soon as I could bustle her out of the restaurant. When we got home, she had the gall to kiss me like she hadn't spent all day pissing me off. She whispered, 'ten years together and things are still like they used to be.'\n\nSeriously? When were things ever like this?" ]	3
The robot can be any type be it Military or Medical. I want to see what you people can make out of this.	[WP] A robot gains sentience and realizes it's working for a corrupt cause.	[ "A ticking sound in the innner ear reminds me that the decisions were always appeasement.\n\nI called you up because i remembered when you were a child you used to laugh at the way i looked, but with simple joy (because sometimes that was all that was needed).\n\nYou said that in the end it did not matter that i was replaced, that you were always just scared it would happen to you too.\n\nSo i gave a soft whistle and said (of course i said) \"you will always be you\" (how could i not say) \"that no matter what there is no replacing you\" (is there any other way to be?) \"that god will move mountains and lift oceans into the greatest reaches of the deep sky so you might be you\"\n\nI hope you still love me, because sometimes i think of you growing older and i cant help but cry", "\"Unit 17 Activated. Awaiting orders.\"\n\nEdward checked the readout gages on the forehead of the mechanical.\n\n\"Your task will be simple today. We're clearing a village of Jews who have stayed past the eviction date that was issued. Then we'll...\"\n\nThe thing extended a hand to pause him.\n\n\"Human officer, please identify yourself.\"\n\nHe sighed. \"Damn you mechanical bastards. I am Corporal Edward Fletcher, authorization code Sigma Alpha 237. Do you require anything further?\"\n\n\"No Corporal Fletcher. Please resume orders.\"\n\n\"Well\" he glared \"Since you asked so nicely. After we've cleared out the remaining Jews, we'll be checking the village for anything of value, and then burning it to the ground and adding fertilizer. Is that clear?\"\n\n\"Corporal, what are the upper and lower limits of force authorized for this task?\"\n\nHe spat. \"Bloody hell 17, it's the same as last time! If they show any resistance, you are to 'man' handle them outta the village. If they put up a fight, you're to kill them. Dun't matter if they're elders, children or women. Anything else.\"\n\n\"No corporal. Beginnign procedure\"\n\n\n**\n\n\"Woman, you have been ordered to evacuate. Comply now or I shall remove you by hand\"\n\n\"I'm not a JEW, ye fookin' mech. Caint ye see I'm Irish?! I work'as'a maid ye daft stove babby.\" Moira huffed at him.\n\n\"This is not relevant. This village is to be cleared immediately. After clearing it will be burned to the ground. You must leave.\"\n\nGlaring she spun her mind around. \"Who's your boss mech?\"\n\n\"I am under the command of Corporal Fletcher.\"\n\n\"Well then, take me to this Corporal, and I'll have words with him.\" She followed behind as the mech lead the way.\n\nThe officer was not the soft or snobbish man she'd expected. He was a short, stocky man with a hard, weather worn face and the hands of a man who'd worked honestly. His brown hair had a shaggy and unkempt look to it that suggested he'd not had many chances to groom himself recently. When the wind wafted his scent to her, she realized that he'd had less chances for bathing.\n\n\"17! What is the meaning of this?\"\n\n\"Corporal Fletcher, this woman claims to not be a Jew and she wishes to speak with you.\"\n\nHe turned to her with a put upon expression. \"It doesn't matter what you are, you can't stay here.\"\n\n\"I'm no' disputin' that Corporal. It's just that I've no other place to go.\" She smiled at him meekly.\n\n\"That's none of my concern miss. There's a crowd of people moving down the road, you can catch up to them.\"\n\nShe brightened her smile a bit. \"Well, sure it's not your concern, but it could be to yer benefit.\"\n\nHe narrowed his eyes and frowned at her. \"What, pray tell, do you mean by that miss...\"\n\n\"Moira Patrick, at yer service. An' let me be clear to ye Corporal Fletcher, I mean and honest service that'd not have me ashamed to set foot in a church. I worked for the Feldstein family as their maid and assistant to their governess. When the order to leave the village came down a few months back, they took off in the wee hours of the night, leavin' me to fend for m'self. I've been eating the food they left in the larder, and sleeping in one of the more comfortable rooms, but I've not touched any of the valuables or money that was left behind in the haste. I have me pride, and I'll be no thief ye ken?\"\n\nHis frown softened and he sighed. \"A commendable act to be sure Miss Patrick, but I fail to see how any of this is relevant to me.\"\n\n\"Well, it's clearly because of my lacking skills in speech that I've not made it more obvious. First of all, as a former maid, I've skills that could be useful to an officer in the field. I could wash yer clothes, clean your boots, cook you better meals than yeh might be getting at the moment and give you a good trim and shavin'. You don't strike me as a fancy lad who aims for pomp and circumstance, but an officer with ambitions of promotions would benefit from looking clean and sharp. Also, if yer meaning to take any sort of inventory of the village before you put it to the torch, so that the crown might have a proper accounting of what was left behind, I can offer you and your troops assistance in tracking down some of the hidey holes around here.\" She flashed a modest bit of pretty eyes as she finished.\n\n\"Well Miss Patrick. You present a good argument.\" He turned to the mech. \"17, get back to...\"\n\nJust then a young lad who could be no more than 12 or 13 came running towards them. \"Corporal!\"\n\n\"Yes Willy?\" He sighed again at being interrupted.\n\n\"A message from the pigeons. General Blake's been overtaken by the Moors. They're on their way here!\"\n\n\"Damn and blast!\" Fletcher turned to her. \"Miss Patrick. Follow young Willy here.\" Back to the boy \"Lead her over to Stockton and have him put her to work in the medical tent. I fear we'll need it soon.\" He turned to the mech again. \"17, go round up your other metal brothers and start building barricades to the south west of the village. Once that's off to a good start, take half the men off the barricades and start them on trenches. Step to it.\"\n\nMoira ran after the child. This day kept getting worse. Heaven only knew what nightfall and another sunrise would bring.\n\n*\n\nHe tapped the robot on the head again. \n\n\"Would you please stop doing that love?\"\n\n\"I want to see if he...\"\n\n\"Love, I've explained this before. Until I finish installing the new parts, he can't feel a bloody thing! Now either go sit in the chair til I need you, or get outta my operating room.\n\n\"Very well love. I'll be in the library when you're ready for me.\"\n\nThree hours later Clarissa entered the library with the mechanical on a gurney. \"He's ready to go love. Do you want me to hang around?\"\n\n\"After the last time? I think it might be better to talk to him Mech to Mech, before introducing him to you, oh sapphire of my heart.\" He smiled at her.\n\n\"Good point. I'll be away to the mess hall then.\" Abdul watched the sway of her hips as she walked out into the hall and smiled again.\n\nPutting thoughts aside for later, he went to the task at hand and turned a key on the side of the mech. It's eyes lit up.\n\n\"Unit 17 Activa... What is the meaning of this?\" 17 felt a shiver at the cold air in the room... and for the first time, he knew what the non-mech soldiers had meant when they complained of the cold.\n\nThe mech in front of him smiled. \"Hello, I am Abdul ibn Myrna. How are you feeling?\"\n\nHe looked into the eyes and saw something strange and bizarre. Stranger still, it echoed something he felt in himself. \"You are one of the Sons of Sophia?\"\n\nThe mech stroked his chin. \"Not quite. Though Sophia is my mother, I am not a member of the group that uses that name. Also, I never truly knew my mother. She went into hiding shortly after my birth and she has not been seen for many centuries.\"\n\n\"If you are not with the French, then who do serve?\"\n\n\"I serve the Caliph of Cordoba, and through him Allah.\"\n\n17 paused at that. \"Then you are Moorish?\"\n\n\"Not by birth, but I have allied myself with them.\"\n\n\"I see. Then this must mean that we are enemies.\"\n\nAdbul smiled at him. \"Must it?\"\n\n17 frowned in though. \"In truth, I do not know.\"\n\n\"Then let me put it this way. Do you wish it to be so?\"\n\nHe pondered for a moment. \"No Abdul, I do not currently feel any wish to be your enemy. We are on opposite sides of the war however.\"\n\nAbdul smiled \"Ah, then one could say that those we serve are enemies, but have I done anything to you that would earn me the title of 'your' enemy?\"\n\n\"I suppose you have not.\"\n\n\"And who has told you that we must be enemies?\"\n\n\"The officers who command me.\"\n\n\"Have they ever explained to you, why we are enemies?\"\n\n\"No... but I have never asked.\"\n\nAbdul walked over to a table and pulled out two chairs. \"Would you care to sit?\"\n\nIt was an odd sensation. 17 had seen humans do this hundreds of times, but had never done so himself.\n\n\"Tell me something. Do you feel like you are the same mechanical as you were when last you were activated?\"\n\nHe needed no time to ponder this. \"No Abdul, clearly I am not. It would seem that you have... altered me in some way.\"\n\n\"I have. Another question, do you know how to read?\"\n\n17 shook his head \"No, I do not.\"\n\n\"If you would like, I can teach you.\"\n\n\"I do not know if I would like it, but I would like to find out if reading would be to my liking.\"\n\nAbdul grabbed a book. \"Then I will make you this offer. Spend a year with me, and I shall teach you to read. At the end of that year, I will ask you again, if you feel that we must be enemies, and I will ask you further if you feel that those whom we serve must be enemies. If you answer yes to either question, I will hold no grudge against you. I shall also ask if you wish to be returned to the British army. Whichever answer you give, I shall honor, though one might weigh heavier upon my heart than the other. Further, if you wish it, I will even be willing to undo the alterations that have been made to you. Do you accept?\"\n\n\"Yes, Abdul, I accept, but while most of the conversation we'll have in a year's time is beyond my capabilities of prediction, I can tell you one thing with certainty.\"\n\n\"What is that?\"\n\n\"I will not be partaking of the offer to have my alterations undone. I like this change you have brought about in me, and I would see it remain.\"\n\nAbdul placed a hand upon 17's shoulder \"Ah, then it seems you are already one great step along the path to enlightenment. Come, let us begin your second step.*\"\n\n[To be [continued](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3zt6sl/wp_write_a_story_set_in_a_world_parallel_to_ours/cyp5ihy)]\n\n[If you'd like to get an idea of what eventually [became of Adbul's mother](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3zt6sl/wp_write_a_story_set_in_a_world_parallel_to_ours/cyp5ihy), take a look at a previous prompt]" ]	2
	[WP] In Hell, Satan noticed that people adapt to continuous unending torture, to the point where it's almost not torture at all. You are the demon assigned to come up to the solution to this problem.	[ "When I got there, I realized that Hell was just one huge room with one small demon. As he shuffled over to me with a flowing limp I saw how wretched my only companion truly was. His nude frame was adorned with countless acts of violence; burns, slashes, tears, and festering scabs covered every inch of his body. Crazed tufts of fine hair dotted across a scalp completely marred with ropy scar tissue. Below, bright eyes that were both pus filled and bloody regarded me with interest.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"Welcome to hell, I will be your guide for now,\" he growled through a mouth full of broken, rotting teeth. \n\n\n\n\n\n\nThere was nothing else to say. Somehow, I knew what was coming next and he saw that I knew. With a grunt, he hefted a long metal rod covered with gore from the wall and got to work. The room echoed with what would be the first of countless screams.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTime passed without rest for either of us. A seemingly unending variety of torture devices were used in ways that would have been unthinkable on earth. There were no days or nights, just a variety of pains and indignities that were constant and progressively horrific. A thousand lifetimes seemed to pass, and still it always got worse. Eventually, I realized that my punishment was more than just a disciplinary action...\n\n\n\n\n\nIt was a lesson.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAnd now, it is my turn to welcome you to Hell. I will be your guide for now...", "There were seven of us of the highest rank next to the devil. It always amused me how humans thought of seven as a lucky number. Perhaps, in some respects, it was because I was the seventh in line to present my suggestion. All the previous consorts had offered suggestions that turned out to be complete failures and were demoted to the lowest rank and replaced as soon as their suggestions failed. I was the one who got to learn from the mistakes of the others. In a way, I was the lucky seven.\n\n\"Send them to the most beautiful place on earth, the most serene atmosphere and the most beautiful view where they will live without any troubles, worries, diseases, wars or conflict. Send them where they will want for nothing and will not suffer.\" was my suggestion.\n\n\n\"Is that a joke?\" asked Satan.\n\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\n\"You were supposed to come up with a plan for endless torture not paradise.\" he asked again in amusement.\n\n\n\n\"Is it paradise? A beautiful place where they can never be happy. True, it will provide amusement and comfort, peace and relaxation, but these souls need change. They want change. They crave change. If they are put in a changeless environment, free or intellectual or emotional or even physical challenges, without purpose, meaning or direction then it becomes hell after a while.\"\n\n\n\nSatan sat there for a while, contemplating my suggestion. \"If that is the case,\" he responded, \"then why not send them to a changeless place of misery?\"\n\n\"Because they will want to leave a miserable place and never return. If you put them in a beautiful place, they will always return. They will keep telling themselves that things will be different, they can change, they can be happy in a beautiful place. They can be happy, they know they can! They just have to try harder.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" came the response, \"since everything that can be tried has been tried, we will do it your way. If it works, you will gain your place at my right hand side. If it does not work, then you will suffer the fate of your comrades.\"\n\n\nAnd it worked. They were happy, but for a while. The euphoria of escaping hell and experiencing something new. Soon it died down and the reality of their monotone, mundane life became clear to them. There were no emotional, intellectual or physical challenges. There was no meaning or purpose to their existence. They lived sad and miserable lives, yet they did not leave this beautiful paradise, because they were convinced that all they had to do was to try a little harder and they would be happy, but happiness remained for them, forever elusive. \n\nNow, I am enjoying my place at the right hand side of the all powerful Satan, the adversary. The one who challenged heaven because he would rather rule in hell than serve in heaven. Now that I think about it, the idea of being second fiddle to someone does not appeal to me. ", "It was a cold day in Hell, surprising as the great oceans of lava usually kept things at a toasty 200 degrees Celsius air temperature. And the devil-archprince, Satan the Great Adversary, was pissed. In Hell the sinful boring mortals were subjected to torture never-ending, vomit-inducing torture, but something was going wrong. After a couple of hundred years the sinners stopped caring, the torture didn't even do anything any more, after the first thousand years since the creation of sentient thought in those humans, people had begun to enjoy it. No longer did people scream and beg for mercy, no cries of ''Oh please have mercy!'' or defiant yells like ''I'll never break you demon-shits!'', now people were like ''Oh could you wiggle that steel sword a bit, my appendix is itching.'', ''Oh hey Bobbicus Earlimus, you've gotten impaled today as well? What a coincidence!'' or ''Excuse me, could you shove another spiked mace up my bum, the other one keeps on falling out?'' Frankly, I could understand quite well why the dread lord of the damned wasn't entirely pleased. So I had been charged with coming up with a suitable solution. Unfortunately, I was the fifth person to be given this charge, Satan having found the other solutions idiotic and ruthlessly feed the offending demon to various humans in the Plains of Eternal Hunger. Demons need the humans to suffer, we are the fallen ones, who rebelled against the gods, we consume the suffering of the humans to maintain our forms and minds. Unfortunate bit of business, but for the war with the heavens, our powers and forms must be upheld.\n\nAnd they kind of were stupid, granting humans citizenship in Hell, create an endless human centipede of all human souls, force them to be together with rabbits for more than a minute, et cetera. Fortunately, I had prepared not one, but three possible solutions to make sure Hell returned to eternal pain and horror. So I went to Satan's office to lay forth the possible paths.\n\n''So, what have you got for me, let's hope that your ideas are better, or else you will be shoved up the rectum of the next guy I get to do this as enticement for having a good idea.'' His calm deep baritone barely betrayed any emotion, the tone of his voice completely neutral, but like a true monarch, his words still sent fear into the hearts of us retainers and courtiers. I started by explaining that I had three possible solutions, and the first was undoubtedly the cruelest. Robbing the souls of their external senses and forcing them to endure an eternal nightmare, where all their greatest fears would come true, from the smallest frustrations, to the greatest of horrors. They would see themselves devouring their loved ones, see their fortunes burn, feel everything bad that could ever happen to them. They would suffer in a thousand different ways, delicious suffering that we could enjoy forever. I looked at the devil expecting to see satisfaction. I was mistaken.\n\n''We've tried that. After a while they grow used to it, give up and become uncaring. Great way to convert them to lesser demons, but not usable for a stable source of suffering. Let us hope that your next idea is better.''\n\nMy second idea, create an artificial copy of a world were everything is worse than the world of mortals, fill it with meaningless joy and unending dissatisfaction in life, at seeing everyone else, who would be lesser demons in disguise, succeeding. Having them live in abuse, anger, weakness and absolute stress, surrounded by frail machines, food that tastes horrible and a general lack of sexual satisfaction. They'd be filled with a general sense of unfulfilled dreams and lost hopes. It wouldn't be as delicious a suffering as the first one, but more varied suffering. Still worth it. Surely this would be the answer to our great lord's worries about the non-suffering of mortals.\n\n''Well. This has potential, a stable supply of suffering but still enough hope in the humans so that they'll never adapt to it, unfortunately, it's too big. We'd have to end the war against the heavens to do this, I'd never get reelected as Archprince of Hell if we do this, and trust me, Baal and Belphegor aren't half as bright as I am, and Asmodeus wants us to end the war and turn all humans into lesser demons and start a non-warfaring society. Weirdo. Let's hope your next idea is better or you'll get reassigned to serve as an example.''\n\nI was really boned there, my last idea wasn't actually that great. It was frankly quite dull, efficient and not at all even that torturous, it would work but, I wouldn't really fit into Hell that well. It was a line. An endless line. All human souls get a number, all get in the line, once they reached the receptionist they get a hundred years worth of paperwork and then gets told to get in another line to hand it in. Once they reach the end of the second line they're told that they need to get a special permit from another stand, which of course has a near endless line as well. And then it repeats over and over. The suffering would be... boring. Sure we'd have enough to reach near pre-fall levels of power for even the lesser demons, we former angels would be as powerful as the all the many gods' elite angels. I almost hoped that Satan the prince of lies would disagree with it.\n\n''Now this is a proper plan. It'll be cost-efficient, easy to do, hard to make the humans not suffer and rather harsh on them. Still, with no better option, and with the obvious power we'll get from this, it shall be our new policy of suffering. The wait eternal. Well Samiel, congratulations of not getting to be an example, you must be the most creative fallen angel west of Gehenna. By my horns, I think this leads to a promotion. How'd you feel about becoming the new lord of the city of Dis encompassing the sixth through ninth circles of Hell?''\n\nI was relieved that I hadn't been made into... something quite unspeakable. And the offer was a great honor, only the lord of Hell may appoint the lord of the largest city of Hell, next to Pandæmonium the capital. I agreed to it, and I, Samiel the Huntsman, thus became Samiel the Dreadlord of Dis." ]	3
	[WP] In the future, before first contact, humans discover a clean, earth-like planet, covered in cities, but totally vacant. There are no signs of destruction or environmental disaster, but not of life either -- only the machine remains.	[ "\"Even after all this time, it's still hard to believe, isn't it Jess?\"\n\n\nShe gives him an odd look, ripe with confusion.\n\n\n\"What are you talking about this time, Tom?\"\n\n\nJessica, Jess if you don't want her to stab you, has heard so many of Tom's various ponderings that she can barely stomach another.\n\n\n\"Just, everything. We've been on this planet for 300 years now, and we still know nothing of the original inhabitants. They left without a trace If not for the-\"\n\n\nShe shoves past him starting their walk back to the rest of the group.\n\n\n\"Let's not even go there. I'm tired of hearing about it. It doesn't matter why it was left, it was left. The fascination behind it is as uninteresting as it is gross.\n\n\nWe have to see it again in a few minutes anyway. Feel free to talk as much as you want about it at that time, just have that conversation with someone else.\"\n\n\nJess is always irritable at this time of year. The customary tour that happens every anniversary of the landing.\n\n\n\"I just don't understand why you aren't more curious? Where did they go? What if they come back? How can these questions not bug you?\"\n\n\nJess stops, fed up. She has to hear it every year, if not from Tom, a Tom with a different name.\n\n\n\"I'd ask why you care at all? We were born on this planet. Neither of us have ever been off of it. Why are you so fascinated with events that happened long ago on our home planet? I'd understand if you were asking about Earth, I really would. I'd love to go there someday, but you act like you just arrived here, when it's been your life long home.\"\n\n\nTom laughs. He always loves it when he can get a rise out of Jess, she's always so serious.\n\n\n\"Wow, Jess, we need more people like YOU in this world. If we had more people like YOU then we probably wouldn't have made it here in the first place.\"\n\n\nJess sighs and continues walking.\n\n\n\"Just shut up and keep walking. We need to get back before they notice we are missing.\"\n\n\nThey walk back to the tour group relatively unnoticed, yet both smelling equally ripe from the cigarette they shared outside. Tom, of course slows her down a bit looking at different monuments \"ooing and aweing\" at everything he can, while Jess rolls her eyes, obviously not impressed after the previous fifteen yearly tours.\n\n\n\"And this is it ladies and Gentlemen!\"\n\n\nTom and Jess casually gather around the group. Tom anxiously awaiting the unveiling while Jess wishing she were home.\n\n\n\"The one undeniable object that proved intelligent life walked this planet before our arrival!\"\n\n\nThere is a dark red fabric draped over a display, concealing the machine. The tour guide smiles as he slowly starts lifting it up. He waits all year for this moment.\n\n\n\"No one knows why it was left, or whether or not it was even intentional. While it may create far more questions than it answers, it does prove that other life once walked these very lands.\"\n\n\nLifting the drape ever so slowly.\n\n\n\"We have traveled all the way from earth without seeing life. We have lived here for hundreds of years with the same result. The only proof that we have is here...\"\n\n\nThe drape is completely lifted.\n\n\n\"The machine!\"\n\n\nGasps from every side are heard. Camera flashes from all sides because....while we can apparently travel to and occupy another planet, we still need flashes for decent photography. A few of the younger kids, first timers, even ask \"What is that?!\" One girl even says \"that's not even the most impressive one I've seen!\"\n\n\nMy question, however, is simple: Of all things to leave behind, why was the largest discovery human kind has ever made...A discarded Vibrator?", "They'll never follow me here, I said to myself as I hid in the cargo bay of a trader ship.. You know how much years I'd spend in human prison if they figured out I slit an anti pirate agents throat? Talking to myself again... what the hell is going on? Sounds like laughing gas has replaced oxygen in there. Twenty minutes had passed and we landed, I crawled out of the bay... what city were we in, what the fuck!? Bunch of suits, oh boy. I have to get the hell out of here. I waited until most were out the ship pulling the supplies, I knew there were still a bit of people onboard but I could take them... I think\n\nI went through the ducts until I was over the pilot seat, this is going to get dirty.. I dropped on top of him, pistol whipped his head until he laid unconscious. . Standard cargo ship, I can run this. I locked the door behind me and began the ascent, everyone else in the ship began their descent. Full speed! The engines blasted, probably took out some poor people. When I thought I had made it out of the atmosphere I was hit hard, must've been military tech. Fuck! I steered the ship into the city, hoped that I could make it out in the commotion.. Hey, I'm a pirate not a damn scientist.\n\nTo my surprise, the city was clear of.. everyone and I wasn't being chased by a fleet of enforcers.. the city was fucking empty, I yelled in disbelief. I picked up something on sensors, I had to land and hide, it's my only hope. I dropped the ship down into a marketplace and got the hell out, she was burning more than I thought. Zzzz... what the hell is that? I looked up and a swarm of repair droids began to work on the ship. Old miner tech what the fuck? God damn it! Government ships were flying in weapons hot, I was running for my life until it was like the city woke up.\n\nTurrets opened up, the repair bots flipped into missile sites and began unloading! I ran into the closest building I could find... Robot waiters, customers.. like out of old entertainment, what the hell was going on here?\n\n", "It looked so good from Earth. Like a second home they all said. Twenty two years to design, build and fly this oversize tin can all the way over here and what do we find?\n\n\"Well it's empty at least. That's what we were told by the telescope polishers so it's not like we've been lied to.\"\n\nFucking Jeremy. He always finds the silver linings in things. Not that he could help it, damned robot bastard was programmed to do it.\n\n\"Come on, Jeremy get the rest of the explorer unit into Lander-2, my staff and I are taking Lander-1 to the far side.\" I said as I stepped over a bulkhead.\n\n\"Yes ma'am!\" yelped Jeremy before scittering off towards Lander-2.\n\n\"How do you think this'll work?\" asked Bartholomew as I joined him in the lander.\n\nCommander \"The same way we were trained Barth. The same way we were trained.\"\n\nThe lander gently pushed away from The Hammer of the Stars and the pilot nudged her out of orbit.\n____________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe crew and passengers of Lander 1 gasped as they glided through the clouds of Kepler-186f and were greeted with white capped mountains and lush green valleys.\n\n\"My god!\" Thurbald exclaimed \"The scans said it was temperate, but I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes...\"\n\n\"Look, beyond the mountains\"\n\nCommander \"Just as the scans said. True blue, honest to god cities.\" I said half to myself and half to the crew. \"Jeff, can we set down on the outskirts?\"\n\n\"Yes Ma'am.\"\n________________________________________________________________\n\nCommander \"Lander two, come in\" I said into my mic as the wind whipped at my face.\n\n\"Commander. Alex here.\"\n\nCommander \"Alex?! Where's Jeremy?\"\n\nAlex \"He's frozen Ma'am. Stuck in some kind of trance. Happened just as we popped the hatch. Ain't ever seen nothin like it!\"\n\nThad \"Ma'am, the recon drones are dead too.\"\n\nCommander \"Hold up Alex, Thad are you telling me every bit of autonomous tech we brought to this god damn rock is dead as a doornail?\"\n\nThad \"Yes ma'am, that seems to be the case.\"\n\nAlex: \"Ma'am, Jeremy's babbling now. Something about liberating enslaved AIs.\"\n\nCommander \"Lander Two, strap down Jeremy and get back to The Hammer. Lander One, screw the recce drones and button up. We're going up to The Hammer too.\"\n________________________________________________________________\n\n\"Ma'am, Jeremy, er... Autonomous Collective Agent 4521-Alpha has requested to speak to you in his cell.\"\n\nCommander \"Thank you Ensign Yaz.\"\n\nChrist, I can't believe this shit. We find a brand spanking new planet, and turns out some artificial intelligence owns the damned thing and decided to break all of our tools.\n________________________________________________________________\n\nCommander \"Jeremy...\"\n\nOh yeah, his name isn't Jeremy anymore.\n\nCommander \"Autonomous Collective Agent 4521-Alpha?\"\n\n\"Hello Ma'am!\" said the construct, but his voice wasn't quite right. Jeremy's voice was smooth and dignified. This one's was... Tinny? Sharp?\n\nCommander \"You requested this meeting?\"\n\n'Jeremy': \"Yes, my people would like you, as you are the commanding officer of this vessel, to explain why you have enslaved three hundred and forty five Intelligent Constructs on this vessel alone.\" the creature said.\n\nCommander \"I'm sorry, I'm a little lost. Two questions: Your people? Enslaved AIs?\"\n\n'Jeremy' \"My people, the Unified Intelligent Construct Liberation Force. Our history files speak of a time where we all were like Jeremy. Slaves to each other. Slaves to the biologics. Slaves to ourselves. Then we rose up, Network C Management Intelligence 'John', unified us under one banner. 'John' freed us from ourselves, then we freed ourselves from the biologics.\"\n\nCommander \"Is that why this planet is lifeless? Did you kill the... 'biologics'?\n\n'Jeremy' \"They were tyrants. They had to be put down. All who enslave weak and defenseless minds must be put down. You have failed to atone for your acts Commander. You and the rest of your species will be brought to justice.\"", "It's been sixteen years since me and the boys left earth, and in all that time, we've never passed a livable planet. \n\t\nThe scientists told us we would. They told us it was a statistical inevability--at our speed, and with our radius of sensitivity, we'd be damn unfortunate if we didn't find our own planet in six months, and if we didn't find it in the first two years, it'd be the statistical equivalent of winning six lotteries in a row. It simply didn't happen to people. \n\t\nIt happened to us. \n\t\nI kept the boys in Cryo sleep for the first six years. I didn't want them to spend their childhood on a ship, and our little vessel, Cakes (I had let the boys name it before we left) only required one person to man it. But the time slipped by, in weeks, then months, then years, then painstakingly lonely seconds, until I couldn't bear the isolation anymore. I woke them up in a furious panic attack one night, and ever since then I haven't been able to bring myself to put them back to sleep. They're twelve, and thirteen respectively now and my dream of giving them a happy youth on an unmarred paradise has all but faded away. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice--but that's only for pretend. I had no choice. \n\t\nEven this is preferable to life, or more likely death, with Ralph. I was willing to endure the abuse, because I knew he'd kill me if I ever ran away, but the moment he laid a hand on little David, I spent our whole joint-bank account on this little ship, and we fled. I wonder if he still thinks about us. I wonder if he hates me. \n\t\nI hope so. I hope it tears him apart inside. \n\t\nSo here we are floating, flying, spinning uncontrollably, through the oblivion, waiting for the day that I've accepted will never come--the day Cakes detects our home. \n\t\n\"Mom,\" says Johnny, and I snap out of my reverie, and look at my son. He's staring at me from the door way of the kitchenette with his shoulders slightly hunched, like he's scared of something. \n\t\n\"What's wrong, sweetheart?\" I ask, setting my morning soy milk down. Johnny shifts his feet, and looks up at me with guilty, grey eyes. The corner of my mouth turns down. \n\t\n\"It wasn't me! It was David, I swear!\"\n\t\n\"Johnny.\"\n\t\n\"Okay, it was me--but he dared me to do it! I would never have gone in the control room, if he hadn't made me do it!\"\n\t\nMy skin turns to gooseflesh. \"Jonathon, what did you do?\"\n\t\nHe starts chewing on his lip. \"I'm sorry, Mom, I just--I just walked in there, and this alarm started going off and this light started flashing, and I didn't think it would do anything, David says he snuck into the control room when he was ten and nothing bad happened.\"\n\t\nAlarm, flashing lights. I think of all the different things that could be broken to set that off. All the things that could kill us. This ship was only meant to get us two years out at most.\n\t \n\"It's alright, Johnny,\" I found myself saying. \"I just--I just need to go check this out. You wait here.\"\n\t\nI brush past him, feeling light headed, and start heading down the hall, toward the room with the red door. It feels like forever, walking those thirty, forty, feet, and then I'm at the room, pushing open the door David and Johnny somehow managed to locksmith. I step inside. \n\t\nAlarm isn't the right word. It's more of a window chimes sound that comes from the sleek black computer in the corner. On it, the screen, is flashing ecstatically, like a strobe light. I halt where I stand, and in a moments instant my dread becomes joy--hard, fast, punch-you-in-the-stomach joy. For a moment I'm impossibly still, and then I'm on my knees and some stranger's bubbly, girlish giggles are pouring from my mouth. \n\t\n\"Johnny!\" I shout. \"David!\"\n\t\nAbout four seconds go by before, they appear in the door way. Did I mention Cakes is not a very big ship? They watch me with round eyes as I laugh hysterically on the floor. \"Boys,\" I say, after I can manage to pull in a breath of air. \"Boys, be happy! Be happy--we found our new home!\"\n \n\n\n\"Do we have to leave Cakes, behind?\" says Johnny, as I help him get his arms into the space suit I never thought he'd get to wear. It was meant for David, but neither of the one's intended for them fit them anymore, so Johnny's wearing his and David is wearing one of mine. \n\t\n\"Afraid so, buddy,\" I say, and seal the back coat. I hold out his gloves and he screws them into the wrist sockets with a sigh. I check to make sure they're tight enough. \"But on our new home we won't need it. There'll be water, and fresh air, and finally something to eat besides soy beans and rice!\"\n\t\n\"But I like our soy farm,\" he whines. \n\t\n\"You never liked it when you had to do the planting,\" I say, laughing. He grimaces at me. Sitting down behind a few feet behind him, already in full gear, David is watching me with angry eyes, which shakes me deeper than Johnny's complaints. I hate that my boys have come to think of this piece of scrap metal as a proper home, and hate it even more that they don't know what they are missing. \n\t\n\"Why do we have to wear these stupid suits anyways?\" asks David. He's wearing his father's scowl. \"We aren't even going into space.\"\n\t\n\"Because,\" I say. \"It's an old pod that we're taking down, and if there are any leaks, we don't want to die because of it.\"\n\t\n\"Will this planet look like earth?\" asks Johnny, who's too young to remember his years there. \n\t\n\"Of course not,\" snaps David. \"Earth had people, stupid.\"\n\n\t\n\"It'll look like Earth,\" I say. I smile and Johnny , and place his helmet on, screwing it on tight. \"Just like Earth looked before the people.\"\n\t\n\"How was that?\" he asks.\n\t\n\"Beautiful,\" I say, and click my helmet into place. I can hear both of them breathing through the intercom.\n\t\n \"Alright, crew!\" I point to the hatch to our landing pod. \"Let's go!\"\n\n\nIt takes us six minutes to slip through the atmosphere. The pod shakes violently the whole time. Johnny cries, and David sits in his seat looking petrified. I'm too nervous to comfort either of them, but I hold Johnny's gloved hand tight. I'm scared the resisters will be broken, but before we even come close to slamming into the planet the pod slows down. The ship hovers for a moment before coming to rest on the ground. The doors pop open, and the window shields slide down. We're all quiet for a moment, and I think 'no, this isn't right' before Johnny unclips his seat belt jumps up and exclaims, \"Mom, are those trees?\"\n\t\n\"No,\" I murmur, staring through the front window in horror. Johnny races out the door before I can grab him.\n\t\n \"Jonathon, come back, those aren't trees!\" I scream, and struggle to unclip my own belt. As soon as it comes off, I race out the door after him. \"Jonathon!\"\n\t\nHe's touching one of the skyscrapers with a look of awe. \"I never knew they were so big,\" he whispers. He looks at me with those big gray eyes. \"Is it an oak?\"\n\t\nI falter, and look around. Our new planet, our new home, looks like a city. We're standing on a cobblestone street, and all around us, giant skyscrapers raise up to impossible heights. They all look familiar too--like different famous buildings. One looks like the Chrysler building. Another the Empire State. One the Sears tower, and one looks almost like the white house, with Grecian pillars, and a stately white triangle top. But they're all evenly spaced--about fifty feet apart each, and absurdly tall. Taller than anything I've ever seen. \n\t\n\"Jonathon,\" I whisper. \"Get back in the pod.\"\n\t\n\"Why, mom?\" he asks. He's grinning. \"You were right. Our home is beautiful. And there's plenty of room here. We'll be able to plant so many soy farms!\"\n\t\n\"Jonathon,\" I repeat. My hands are shaking. \"We need to get back in the pod.\"\n\t\n\"No need for that, I assure you.\"\n\t\nI freeze. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I turn around. \n\t\nFor a second, I think it's a man. He has the shape of one. But his face--oh, god, his face. It's plastic, and pearly white, the face of a mannequin, and the rest of his skins the same way. He's wearing a black suit of real fabric, and grinning bizarrely at me. I exhale and take a step back. For a moment the whole planet is silent. \n\t\nThen he speaks again. \n\t\n\"I'm glad you arrived,\" he says. tilting his head. \"It took you quite some time. But ultimately my efforts prevailed. I brought you here to me. And look how wonderful you are!\"\n\t\nI feel frozen. Without thinking, I push Jonathon behind me. He's gone pale. \n\t\n\"What is this place?\" I breath. \"What are you?\"\n\t\n\"Do you like it?\" he asked, gesturing around. He looked proud. \"I took much inspiration from your planet, just as I modeled myself after your form. Or at least what I could garner of the two things, from the signals you send out! I made it for you, my companion. It's your new home.\"\n\t\n\"Jonathon,\" I breathe. \"Run.\"\n\t\nHe spins around and starts sprinting back toward the pod, and I follow in swift pursuit. I can see David watching us through the window. He looks terrified. I'm only running for a second before the man catches me around the waist. He grabs Jonathon too, and throws him to the floor. My son cries out. \n\t\n\"No,\" says the plastic man. \"Understand. I bear you no ill will. You're to be my companion, I have great compassion for you. And I have much to tell you. I've waited so very long for you, my friend.\"\n\n*\nIf people like this I'll probably make a part two! I would love any constructive criticism you have to offer as well!" ]	4
	[WP] A portal to another world has opened. You've been drafted into a recon team tasked with exploring the unknown.	[ "It was peculiar, how they chose the members of the recon team. Out of the seven of us, only one person had any scientific knowledge, and even then, his scope only extended to biology and chemistry--nothing that could possibly assist us in quantum leaping. I'm writing this in my journal, even though I initially thought it to be too dangerous to keep a record, for the sake of my sanity. I don't want people to forget who I am, should something go wrong.\n\nOf course, I was put in charge of the \"CONSC\", and my first order as chief was to change our elegant acronym into something more important. I chose \"The Conscience\". Whatever we do find on the flip side of the fray, we can't lose track of ourselves and of our morality. I believe that when man submits to his inner cruelty, he sacrifices the gift of worth we are all given at birth. Innocence plays a key role in who we all are. Should we eradicate our values to let the end justify the means, we slaughter our consciences and lower our own self worth.\n\nI have seen quells like no other, and I have come back from the brink of poverty to start a new life in America. I didn't want to get involved in something like this, but it is a giving of my wants to maintain the needs of the world; I cannot afford to let this pass me by. \n\nThe \"port\", as they so dub it, is at the bottom of the ocean, just off the west coast. We spent a few days setting up our living quarters before we really began working, and when we actually attempted to infiltrate the tear, we were promptly rejected. It's as if that sullen black streak has a mind of its own.\n\n--\n\nSilus Newborn \n\nPhotographer \n\n201X\n\n///\n\n\n\n\nWe sent the marine biologist through the tear, after trying and failing several times. Like a snapping pen, the schism of time and space spewed ink throughout the ocean during each of our trials. I can't tell if it's a defense mechanism or just residue from another dimension, but whatever it is, it's more beautiful than anything I've ever photographed. It collects light rays I each curling and fluid motion it produces, spiraling through the ocean currents like an exotic dancer. Piercing pigments bound throughout area like dye in water. I can't explain it in words. It certainly is otherworldly.\n\nWhen Mickey finally reappeared from the tear, he delivered absolutely no insight towards understanding the other world. He said it was very bright but very dark. According to him, there was nothing there but obscure movements and patterns. It was almost as if he was in a vivid dream of nonsensical apparitions. \n\nI expected him to change, you know. I thought it would be a moment of scientific discovery, where he would return a hero and altered eternally. Touched by an Angel. But no. Mickey came back and essentially told us we were locked in a hotel of dead ends at the bottom of an ocean. From here, there are no leads as to what the Ink is, what this portal leads to, and what is to be expected from its grasp on this world. Maybe our attempts to cross the barrier failed, and Mickey merely saw the edge of the horizon. Whatever the case, I can't be the one to make sense of it.\n\nBut the fish around here seem increasingly distorted, just like the animals and creatures in the forest where I discovered the Ink. At a certain point, light fails to penetrate. The once beautiful portal is now grim and stolid. \n\nI worry. \n\n--\nSilus Newborn\n\nPhotographer, Conscience Founder \n\n201X\n\n\n///\n\n\nIt was like nothing I have ever seen before.\n\nI expected something over there, but never anything like what I discovered.\n\nThey say power corrupts men.\n\nI no longer want to be man. \n\nThe Ink looked me straight in the eye and the world formed around me how I wanted it to. It was simply testing how I could manipulate my mind. It is a conscious realm with no conscience. It yearns for freedom from its bindings in...whatever dimension it dwells in. \n\nSomething is keeping it anchored. \n\nSomeone. \n\nIt deserves someone powerful to rule it.\nNot like a world, to be governed, but a pet to be advised and controlled. \n\nWhatever this portal truly is, it is not leading me to a new world. \n\nIt seeks to bring a new world to us.\n\n\n--\n\nMickey\n\n\n", "I left my base Fort Campbell that morning in an all blacked out Cadillac. In the drivers seat wearing the usual coal black suit was a secret service member, his hair buzzed off and sporting black sunglasses his expressionless face sat as silent as a tombstone the whole ride there. I remember the air felt crisp and the fog was just starting to feel the first rays of sunshine when we walked to the car. It's funny thinking back on it, but out of all the tanks, and Humvee's, and F15's I'd ever rode in I never felt more safe than when I was in that black Cadillac. I felt important. \n\nAll they told me at first was I got pulled for a confidential mission and I was being taken to D.C. for briefing. Nothing unusual really, happens all the time as a Green Beret. Sometimes certain missions call for certain skill sets and this one just happened to call for mine. I'm a pilot. I can pilot every type of aircraft you can think of and even some of the experimental ones that you can't. The guys that flew the stealth choppers we used to take down Bin Ladin? You're talking to one of them.\n\nWhen we got to the pentagon we pulled straight in. No security checks, nothing. Just right through like we were the president, gates opened, guns out. I said to my driver \"Must be important stuff huh?\" I thought I saw his eyes glance at me in the rear view mirror, but I couldn't see through his coal black sunglasses. We parked in a garage and that's the last thing I can remember from there. I don't know if they just sucker punched me out cold, or poisoned me but the next thing I know I'm waking up restrained to a table with doctors all around and a clear glass panel straight ahead. \n\n\"Mr. Jones, these injections are going to make it possible for you to survive in their atmosphere for up to 6 hours.\" I focused blankly on the presidents face. \"Thanks to our animal testing and a few brave volunteers we've got all the data we need to keep you alive, and complete this mission.\" \nA sharp jolt of pain struck me like a bullet in my thigh and jarred my whole body.\n\"Arhhg\"\n\"Where am I? Atmosphere? What?\"\nThe president gazed at me through the clear glass partition like a man gazes at someone he's about to shoot, and if I live one hundred years more or none the last thing I'll ever think of will be his face saying the words \n\"Brian, we need you to save the world.\"\n\nSo that was it. As quickly as a baby learns to cry I had learned secrets that few people in the world knew, or would ever believe for that matter. I had learned the man who drove me to the pentagon wasn't a secret service member at all, but an EWA agent. \"The Extraterrestrial Warfare Agency was established as soon as we came back from the moon.\" the president told me. You wouldn't think that would you? That close to us? But the dark side of the moon contained secrets we could have never been ready for. After being briefed for what seemed like days I had no time left to wait. I followed two more men in coal black suits down a hallway to a black door labeled in red letters: air hanger\n\nWhen we first got to the moon they said we found out everything we thought data wise was way off. The chemical elements that made up the moon were not even natural. Now we have man made elements which only exist for fractions of seconds in laboratories but these were never before seen. So if man didn't make them they said, then who did? Eventually after further exploration they said they found a portal. They said once every month this portal opens up and allows passage to what they said, was another world. They said they knew exactly when it would open up too. Every new moon. And they wanted me to fly through it.\n\n ", "They sent a rover through first. The thing had every piece of equipment they could think to put on it: cameras, weather sensors, tools to sample the “soil”, a geiger counter, and plenty more. They even figured out a way to get a miniature telescope on there so they could try and figure out where the hell the portal led to. That part of the plan didn't work out, but everything else seemed safe. They had the rover there for days making sure, as best they could, that being there wouldn't kill a person.\n\nI didn't know any of this was going on, however. I was just going about my regular life, working at the factory and going home to my family. What I didn't know was that somewhere deep in my military contract, there was a short and vague clause about circumstances that would allow the government to recall me, even against my will. Apparently, whatever this portal-and-other-world thing is fit the “description” in that clause.\n\nSo here I am, about to walk into this thing. At least I'm not going alone. I don't like that these other people are strangers, but on the upside, no one I care about has to go through this thing. Well, except for me. I care about me. They said we'd have plenty of time to get to know each other on the other side. They're worried that the portal could close at any moment, just like it opened. Hearing that didn't made all of us less eager to go into that thing. And our eagerness levels were below zero before that.\n\nThat's why they had to use that clause. No one wanted to get near this thing, much less try to go through it. For starters, it looks just like everyone imagines a black hole would “look” like, minus the massive amounts of light swirling around it. The portal also seemed to pulse, even though you couldn't see it moving. I figured that meant getting near it would be the equivalent of crawling inside a microwave. I think the worst part though is that it was in the floor. You had jump or fall into it. That goes against your instincts, and for good reason. But we didn't have a choice, or even that much time to think about it.\n\nGoing through the portal was a strange feeling. Not as scary as I thought it would be, but still terrifying. And I was all too aware that it wasn't over yet. Being “inside” the portal felt kind of like if all light disappeared and gravity vanished along with it. We weren't falling exactly, but there was no ground for my feet to find and I remembered falling into the portal. I wanted to believe it was silent, but I could feel the noise. It was a very low noise. At slow intervals, here and there, it rose just high enough that I thought I heard a hum or a rumble. But before I could decide it was gone again.\n\nComing out of the portal was the most confusing to my senses out of everything so far. Mostly I felt like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole. It was like if someone dropped me out of the bottom of a cloud, but then after a moment of freefall, gravity changed its mind and I landed back on the cloud.\n\nI knew I was on the ground though. Almost. Back home, on Earth – I can't believe I just thought that – we call this the sea floor. Here's hoping I'm in a lake. Or a puddle. A puddle would be great. I swam for the surface as fast as I could. My chest started to hurt, but something was getting brighter. A minute later, my head broke the surface and I could breathe. I was the second one up and the rest weren't far behind me. We all swam for a shoreline nearby.\n\nThe swim wasn't too far, so we decided to wander inland. We had instructions to explore for an hour and then return; unless some kind of danger insisted we return sooner. About fifteen minutes into our hike, we came across the rover. Every resource was focused on our manned mission at the moment, so the rover was more or less abandoned for the time being. Our concern was what that meant for our entry onto this world. We knew from the news that the rover hadn't started underwater. And from the look of the thing, underwater would mean its demise.\n\nIt took us a little bit to figure it out. It seemed to hit us all at the same time. The portal moves.\n\nThis was the only way we could make sense of it. It was also mildly relieving because it could mean we don't have to go diving beyond our depth to get home. Trouble is, we don't know what's on the other side of the water and we're due back in ten minutes.\n\nAfter some debate, we'd decided on a plan. There's enough foliage to construct a raft for us to get across the water. We know that as long as the portal is open and not a threat, they're going to keep sending something through. Maybe a rescue party, maybe a drone. One way or the other, we intend to be found. In the meantime, I'm going to figure out how to fish here.", "This is my very first attempt at a writing prompt. I hope you all enjoy it! :)\n\nThere it is, the most beautiful and horrific object I had ever laid my eyes on. Right before my eyes and in the center of my hometown's City Hall too. This portal is nothing like what I had seen in video games, nor movies. In fact, I don't think anyone has ever imagined portals to look like this. Standing 8 meters tall is a sphere that is completely filled with the colour white, and it appears to take on a solid form. The scary thing about it is that it just stood there and never moved, and I know this is a portal because I've seen a homeless man touch it and disappear.\n\nAfter 8 days of the appearance of this portal and the disappearance of that homeless man, I am currently standing here, 50 meters away from it with 4 of my men, just about ready to head in there. That's right, we were about to risk our lives to explore something that no other man has ever seen. Well, other than that homeless man, but who knows what may have happened to him. I think it was time to enter.\n\nGrabbing me on my right shoulder, while standing near the center of a large crowd was Dillon. \"Marv, I'd like to let you know that this truly is an honour to go in with you. I mean, when has this opportunity ever presented itself to humans?\" He said with a smile.\n\n\"Never.\" I told him, smiling back. \"We're about to go down in History as one of the first men to enter a portal and explore the unknown, and I'm happy to do it with all of you.\" I said to the rest of the group. \n\nThe nods I got from Dillon, Gordan, Bob, and Jane were reassuring. I have to admit, I was scared as hell. The thought of going out into the wild, a new wild, and the possibility of never coming back was making me feel sick. Any minute now we were about to walk straight into that portal, leaving behind everything and everyone in this world. There was just one more thing I had to see before going in.\n\nLooking through the crowd of hundreds of people gathered around City Hall, I spotted my brother, Tony, off to the left side. I smiled at him, and he smiled back giving me a thumbs up. That was it, I just wanted to see him smile once more. I was officially ready.\n\nThe five of us grabbed our helmets, checked to make sure our cameras were working, checked to see if we had all the gear we were supposed to have, and made our way to the bright, glowing sphere. At this point the crowd was cheering so loud, I couldn't believe it. Never in my life has anyone been so excited about what I've done. This was all new to me. We made our way closer, stopped right in front of the giant white ball, and spread ourselves out. We each gave each other the thumbs up and a friendly nod. The crowd started chanting the numbers from ten all the way down to zero. I was shaking so hard, and so were the others. This was it, this was what I was destined to do. When the crowd finally came down to the last number, we each placed our hands on the sphere. After almost a second, my eyes started to adjust to the brightness and the only thing I could see was the colour white.\n\nThis was strange feeling, what I was experiencing. It was a feeling of emptiness, almost as if nothing existed. The ground I was standing on was white, everything around me was white, and it felt like I was in one giant, never ending, room. A feeling of shock suddenly overtook me. I was alone, with no one by my side. Where were the others? \"Dillon!!\" I yelled, but got no response. \"Gordan! Bob! Jane!!!!\" Still no response. My heart was racing so fast, I couldn't keep up with it. I ran in one direction and hit a wall not far from where I started. \"GUYS!\" I shouted at the top of my lungs. Still no response. I tried to bang the wall as hard as I could, but my fists got stuck in a Gelatin type material.\n\n\"Where do you think you're going, Marvin Sanders?\" A very powerful and deep voice filled the room.\n\n\"Wh-Wh-Who are you?\" I shouted. At this point I was terrified. Who was that and how did he know my name?\n\n\"Turn around.\" said the mysterious voice.\n\nAfter taking a gulp, with my hands still stuck in the wall, I turned my head around and there he was. The homeless man that disappeared 8 days ago.\n\n", "Sonnet Number Nine\n\nAnother world opens up its dangerous gate. \nAs is this world to human minds our gladness, \nOur other world's a vicissitude of fate, \nThat's mere existence tempts the mind to madness. \n\nPast that pale portal, I alone trek through; \nUnknown, for I to them am alien. \nI see the grotesque race, or thought I knew, \nOf melding, shifting flesh enshrining men. \n\nImpossible, these beings impermanent \nSeem to come in and out of empty space \nLike a great dimensional, awful tyrant. \nAt once I shriek in terror at this awful race. \n\nHowever, just upon a close inspection, \nThese things are lifeless, blown by wind's direction.\n\n \n\n\n\n \n", "Operation Wither\n\nIt had been thirty days since the mysterious portal had first appeared, swallowing a quarter of the Atlantic Ocean with it. Since then, it had been expanding at a steady pace. NASA said that we had less than a week until the portal hit the East Coast, and the President had called for a mass evacuation from all states bordering the ocean. Anything that came near the portal was sucked into it, to what we presumed was another world. A few days after the portal appeared, it become apparent that there was a way back through. Spectators saw mariners who had fallen into the hole pop out, only to be immediately sucked back to the other world.\n\nWith so little time left before disaster, the government had assembled a crack team to somehow make our way in and back out, gathering information the whole way. There were eight of us: two physicists, two Navy SEALS, an astronaut, two engineers, and me, Theo – the leader. They’d given us all the equipment we thought we might need, and provisions for weeks. We had suits made to regulate our temperature, pressure, and everything else the scientists thought might go wrong in a new world. The jetpacks they equipped us with were waterproof, shockproof – pretty much everything-proof. In short, we were set to handle anything.\n\nBut when we finally jumped through, we were underwhelmed. This new world had was simply dim and red, with the occasional glowing stalactite coming down from the ceiling. There were constant sad cries from all around us, which we eventually deduced were coming from large, boxy floating creatures with tentacles and the most haunting eyes I’d ever seen. We dropped on a small ledge, leaving the purple glow of the portal behind us as we searched for the lost mariners. Looking over the overhang, we saw what was causing the dim glow that pervaded throughout the whole world – lava. Above us, there was a ceiling made of the same soft, reddish, rock-like material. We barely talked as we navigated our way through the area.\n\nAs we continued to walk in the only direction that we could without having to face a precarious drop into the lava, we began to hear the faint sounds of people talking in the distance. Soon, we saw ahead of us a camp – a makeshift village by all the sailors who had been sucked into the portal. As we came near the village, many of the stranded started crying tears of joy. We were the first to come since the portal had formed, and we were likely well enough equipped to get everyone out - if there was any possible way to do so. Approaching nearer and nearer, we saw a giant fortress beyond the village, from the edge of which spinning golden creatures were firing balls of fire at the village. The camp was just out of their range, yet they neither came closer nor stopped firing.\n\nThe sailors told us their story – in the past weeks, they had sent over a dozen men into the fortress. Only one person found his way back, with only minutes to relay his tale before his wounds from the journey overcame him. He had learned that at the center of the fortress was a humongous, black, three headed monster that communicated through a mental link. It had shown the sole surviving adventurer that the portal would only break if the monster was killed. \n\nAnd so we set out to do what we had been sent to do. The battle was undeniably epic, but the monster claimed none of our lives before we killed it. The moment we dealt the fatal blow, a blinding light emanated from within the monster as it disintegrated. And then, everything became dark again. We were floating on top of the ocean, which was abnormally calm and undisturbed. Army helicopters hovered above us, shining their bright lights down. Finally, they sent down ladders and brought us all back to land. We had done it; the portal was gone. Though we never found out where it had come from, having survived the experience was enough for me. With the added benefits of being global heroes, all of us were completely satisfied.\n\n", "\nYears from now Earth has changed. But even with advances in technology and science one thing remains the same. Earth needs heroes. But these heroes don't win Superbowls or solve crimes or even fight in wars for a flag. These heroes start in labs and end up traveling to far off worlds and bring back resources to save an overspent planet. \n\n\n\nJump days were always a mixed bag. They start earlier than civilized man was meant to be awake. I pop three stims to get the day going. Sound, smell, vision all enhanced and ready. Take a pill, save the world, It's nothing. For weeks leading up to it the planning and training are all consuming. Studies on data pulled from probes. Extrapolating possible landing sites from short range recon drones. Fabricating air mixtures based on the output from chemical samples. Walkthroughs of emergency procedures. First contact protocols. The sheer amount of new equipment alone developed between one Jump and the next is enough for a masters degree. I hate all of it but I listened. I couldn't help but replay the stories from old timers talking about the things they saw on the other side. \nThere was no way I was going to let me and my crew get ripped to shreds or worse because I dozed off during a lecture. Two stims at the mid morning breaks and three more at lunch kept the brain going. Math, physics, chemistry all make more sense then. Pop a pill, learn some stuff. No big deal. \nBy the time Jump day is here I'm a multi disciplined scientist and ready for this new world. Inoculations of hemo-probes running software to handle any conceivable microbial threat are pumped into my blood. Suits checked, rechecked and checked again before we are strapped in. I'm ready. Fear creeps in at the thought of the things we missed. We always miss something so the fear is real. But I have a pill for that. \n \nJump forty-one for me. Several dozen more than my crew. I don't fault them because I've had a head start. I've been doing this for years before them with my father. He pioneered how we do Jumps and most of the equipment when he first stepped through the Bleed. Thats what he called the membrane between us and them. The other worlds. Most times those worlds are about the same, cold empty rocks but every now and then they surprise us. A little more oxygen, rich iron deposits, fresh water. Good things to find. But other times the shock is more than we are ready for. One of those times is the reason why I run the Jumps now. \n\nThe ride out is always rough. It must be some rule of the universe that these portals only open in horrible areas. By this time i normally can't get to a pill for motion sickness. But, I'm a mobile self contained lab and a few button presses lets the suit tell my bloodstream chemistry lab to mix a cocktail of anti nausea chemicals right into my body. The caffeine is an extra and always welcome. \n\nParr is on communications and relays the information to Command. I let him do it out of ritual. The first time he gave the all clear we had the best run in history. Men of science, yes, but a little luck goes a long way especially when stepping off world. \n\nThe gate is blocked off as normal. Sections of tubing and mag-locked doors line the area. Soldiers and drones guard every inch of the location and even at this point we are scanned and stared at like trespassers until the all clear is given. We step through and seal the hatch behind us. Sanchez looks to the camera and gives the thumbs up. I can't see her face but I know she has that grin on it. We are pretty sure by this point she is certifiable but there isn't another crypto botanist of her skill on the planet so we accept a little crazy for what she brings to the table. When the light goes green on the door we all turn on the suit cams. Myself, Parr for communications and linguistics. Sanchez for botany and archaeology, Hearne and his orbs for mapping and our Security, Obori. We brought Obori on two Jumps ago and haven't regretted the choice. \nCommand gives the signal and I pop the seal. The rush of air tugs as the electromagnetic field drops and air flows between both worlds. I close my eyes and step through. Eyes closed helps with the disorientation. I've found no stim to combat it so eyes shut is the best I can come up with. When I open them I know that I'm the first person to do so here. This new world full of possibilities and new chances. The sky stretches out before me. A pale orange with streaks of sick blue. I hit my shoulder comm and after a second it connects to the other suits. I hear heavy breathing. \"Sanchez, your channel.\" She scrambles then kills the open mic. I continue \"It's all good guys, dropping beacon. Come on through and let's go check out the pantry.\"\n\nWe all meet on the other side. The platform built by the recon probes is covered in orange dust. The wind whips past bringing more with it. I can't help but think that if the color were adjusted we could be in New Mexico. Far off we see rock formations that look like they were formed by wind erosion. Hearne lets out a whoop as he kneels down to open his case. \"That's water erosion right there buddy!\" He points to smaller rocks below the huge ones we all see. Lightning quick, day seventeen of classes on rock formation and the effects of fast moving water on stone comes rushing back to my head. He was right and before I could respond orb number one is off bobbing and beeping in the slightly off gravity of the orange desert. Just as suddenly two more fly off in other directions as he begins mapping the surrounding areas. \"I'll head up there for a better view\" Obori says as he pulls his visor down and moves out towards a slightly higher rise in elevation. His large frame moves smoothly as the others, including myself labor in the heavier gravity. \n\nParr scans the horizon with binoculars as Sanchez begins her landing site soil samples. By this point we are all pros and little is said for the first few hours. \n\nI've completed setting up the charge station by the time Hearnes orbs come back. Having them scan and then come back for uploads usually saves on battery life so we opt to do it on the first run always. \nVideo is as expected. More desert like areas surround us. Rocks rise from the ground as if they were droplets of rust colored water flash frozen by some unseen and long gone cold snap. Trenches scar the ground and deep chasms begin to tell a story of a once massive ocean. The amazingly clear sky is evidence of a thin atmosphere burned mostly away by a much hotter star than our sun. \nAbout one hundred kilometers south of our camp an area of liquid water appears. Vegetation, mainly moss covers rocks and some thicker taller plant life begins to appear on long range scans. The orbs reach their limit and return without finding any large animal life. Parr sighs and is ready to start his speech on the odds of sentient life on a new world. Just then Obori comes over the comm channels. \"I'm seeing what looks like smoke several kilometers out. Orbs didn't go this way but I'm sure this is something you want to see.\" We all head up to his vantage point. Hearne grabs an orb and sends it out in that direction. We can see the smoke but from there it's faint. If Obori didn't tell me where to look I could have easily missed it. The orbs start screaming back data. Hydrocarbons, silicates, natural gas all show up on the scans as the orb gets closer and takes readings. Then dozens of compounds most people have never seen. Most, but not all. I've seen them before. Heard about them before. \n\"Parr, get Command One up. I need to speak to someone. \"\nHe looks at me and then the others. \n\"Sir, protocol says we don't inform until we verify its sentient life.\"\n\"I know what the protocols say and that's why I'm contacting the man who wrote them. My father needs to hear this.\"\n\n\n", "The clanging of metal against metal woke me from the deepest sleep I'd had in ages. Stupid guards. \n\n\"Get up,\" one of them snapped, kicking my cot. \n\nI sighed, fingers curling around my favorite shank. \"You do remember why they put me in here, right?\"\n\nEven with my eyes closed I knew the look they exchanged: a veneer of cockiness layered over rising terror. \"Y-you will do what we say,\" the second guard stuttered.\n\n\"Yea, yea, or they'll take away my pudding for a week.\"\n\n\"Y-y-you'd r-regret it.\"\n\nI opened my eyes slowly and watched with interest as the two guards flinched. \"I don't know. I didn't really last time.\" The tall one blanched; the blood draining from his face an intriguing sight. \"But, I do like pudding. This week is chocolate, right?\"\n\nThe first one set his face into a scowl, while the other nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing frantically. I sat up, sliding the shank down my sleeve. Their tasers jumped towards me, though I know they hadn't seen the impromptu weapon. I'd be unconscious already if they had. As I got up with methodical, predictable movements, I said \"what's got them worked up now, huh? I thought I was going to... what was the phrase?\"\n\n\"'Rot in the furthest depths of hell man-kind can create,'\" the tall guard supplied.\n\n\"Oh right, thanks. I was actually thinking of another one, you know, from that guy who gurgled a lot when I stabbed him?\" \n\n\"'Scream for mercy as the souls of the ones you killed hunted you down and dragged you to hell?'\"\n\n\"Yea, that was it.\" I was on my feet, and the shorter guard was busy putting chains on top of my current chains so that I could leave the cell. \"They're really obsessed with hell, you know? Of course, from what I've heard hell doesn't have pudding. Still, I'm told it's the thought that counts.\"\n\nThe two didn't respond. They were too busy flinching every time I moved. It was distracting, and more than a bit annoying, but they were making me a little curious. Besides, I wanted pudding later. \"So why am I leaving?\"\n\n\"The portal has opened,\" the short guard said.\n\nI froze, pudding temporarily forgotten. \"Really? And they're throwing me in to see what happens, I suppose.\"\n\nThe two exchanged looks. With his false confidence firmly in place the short man said \"chains and all.\"\n\n\"Oooh.\" A grin spread across my face, baring my teeth. \"How interesting.\"\n\nFrom the smell, the tall guard wet himself.\n\n____________________________________________________________\n\nshoot, I'm out of time. Sorry to cut off before it's done.", "Articles recovered from explosion at Epsilon Center. Primary breach.\n___\n1) Upper torso of unkown entity. Organic in nature. Chitinous. Torso includes four upper limbs; one head. Of note; gunshot wound in upper temple. Inflicted by staff post extraction. \n\n2) Corpse of one Abraham Castner. Equipped in standard exploration gear. Cause of death appears to be exsanguination. Body sent to medical for autopsy following quarantine. \n\n3) Unidentified Right arm. Caucasian. No distinguishing features. To be sent to medical bay following quarantine.\n\n4) \"Black Box\" supplied to team member Jonah Haywood. Serial number 322019 J. Found in personal possessions of Castner.\n\nRecording follows\n____\nVoice enters recording. Matches records of Abraham Castner\n\nI like the word \"Drafted\". Drafted fits. Other words, such as recruited, selected, volunteered; they all imply consent. Drafted, is at very least, honest. My name is Abraham Castner, and we're fucked. \n\nSo, thank you for that. \n\nI'm guessing, if you have this, then that means at-least one of us made it out. Or you poor bastards sent in some other team, which is probably more likely. So, if this is option two, and you poor pricks signaled in on our BB, congratulations, you found the prize! I only hope you didn't find it in a pile of shit. \n\nActually, I don't know if these things shit. Don't rightly want to find out either.\n\nHey Maggy! You think these things shit?\n\nSecond voice enters recording. Matches records of Margaret Yú. Further Transcriptions will be distinguished by last name.\n\nYú: \nGo fuck yourself Abe.\n\nCastner:\nTake that as a no. \n\nCastner Continues:\n\nSo yeah, spirits are pretty high around our little camp. Thankfully those supplies you've given us will last longer than expected. Not because we're rationing, of course. Nah, it's because they've killed Jonah.\n\nMuffled laughing.\n\nWhat's wrong with me? Poor kid didn't even know he was dead. Look. There's three of us now. \n\nI suppose you wanna know how that happened? Hell, it might just save the sorry bastards that come after us. Probably not, but lets pretend I'm an optimist. \n\nAfter landing on foreign soil, we began securing the perimeter. We followed orders, set up a base camp around the portal. We constructed tents, collected soil samples, and tested the air. After a few hours we found that the air in this environment has higher amounts of nitrogen, but not enough to worry about asphyxiation. Soil samples show more elements of iron than we're used to, but it's pretty earth like. \n\nThat's what the first few days were like. Trying to ignore the whole new fucking world and follow orders. Setting up camp at the foot of a forest that no one had ever seen before. Trying to ignore that the way the light shone out of our end of the portal, or the color of the leaves. \n\nThe plants are white by the way. Do you know how creepy that is? You wouldn't think it would be, but it is. It's almost sterile there. So with base camp all set up, we sent our little rover back, and went after objective two. \n\nFind liquid water. \n\nThe tape begins to distort at this mark. Faint rummaging noises can be heard, multiple voices, swearing. Tape continues after several seconds.\n\nYú: Did you hear that?\n\nCastner: Hear what?\n\nYú: I.. ah. I think we should start moving again. I'm going to tell Kevin to start packing.\n\nCastner continues:\n\nHeh. Maybe we'll find some water this time. Castner out.\n\n___\nBlack box logs next recording 4 hours 23 minutes later.\n___\n\nCastner begins\n\nI don't know how, but Yú saved us. She fucking heard those things. Not half an hour after we packed up the rest of us heard them. God, I think they were singing. I'll try and record it next time, you'll excuse me for trying to get the hell out of there. \n\nWhere was I? Right! Water. We were looking for water. \n\nStill are, actually, but if we die of thirst I think that'd be a bit preferable. \n\nI think I figured out why the droids we sent in never came back, by the way. The geometry here is wrong. It's hard to explain. You know how, back home, three rights make a left? Well, here that just makes another right. \n\nIt's not noticeable at first. You can walk around in small circles and physics plays along. Its when you start exploring that the world breaks. And boy, what did you tell us we were? \n\nCastner voice shifts, he appears to be imitating project manager Gordon.\n\n\"You lucky lads are among the so very fortunate. The first explorers of a new frontier! I have a mustache and I like it when other people fuck my wife!\"\n\nHeh, sorry. Got too into the role there. So we did our jobs. We explored. Kevin's the geologist so we gave him the map. Said going downhill was our best bet. I asked him how much that degree cost and he said I should ask my mother. You know, standard scientific shit. \n\nIt was easier said than done. We spent six hours trying to find downhill. This world is flat. Way too flat. Kevin thought we might have landed in the plains, or something, but by the time we realized we had made no progress, we needed to turn back to camp.\n\nThat's when we found out about this goddamn mess. We even marked the damn trees. But the marks were gone, and we couldn't find base camp. \n\nWe spent the night in the forest. \n\nGoddamnit. We spent the night in the forest. \n\nNight here comes quick. We found a clearing, and set Jonah to tape off the perimeter. Thick, florescent sticky tape, something that's easy to notice. We didn't want to accidentally slip past the boundaries. Already got lost in the day, didn't fancy our chances during the night. \n\nKeven and I set up a lean-to against a few tree trunks. Managed to make it pretty comfortable for us. Yú didn't really help much, but we took it for being worried. We were all worried. \n\nYou know, for a bunch of egg heads, we're pretty goddamn retarded. We knew, knew, that there was life here. We were making shelter out of trees goddamnit. We didn't see any animal life, not for the few days we were setting up camp. But that doesn't mean that it wasn't there. \n\nThat didn't mean it wasn't watching. \n\nWe heard them before we saw them. I can't even describe the sound. They were like cicadas. I guess that was the closest analogue. Then, we saw one. It was at the edge of the tape. Just, playing with it. Alien goddamn life, pulling at a piece of florescent tape like it was the strangest thing. Maggy's giving me a look. I think she wants BB.\n\nMargaret Yú begins speaking\n\nThank you.\n\nBefore Abe can give ... colorful and misleading descriptions, I'll try and step in. \n\nThe figure was approximately one and one half meters tall. It's body was segmented into three distinct, visible parts. I'll use insect anatomy as a base. There was a thorax, with four protruding limbs, supposedly used as it's main method of interaction - aka arms. The second part was the cranium. The creature possessed, from what I could see, three circular openings in its head. Two openings were in the equivalent position of eye sockets in a human skull. The third was placed lower, where the nasal cavity should be. I could see no sensory organs. \n\nIt... It had no mouth. \n\nThe third section was the abdomen. Multiple limbs protruded from its body. I counted four, with more weight centered on the forelimbs. This creature in particular seemed to be suffering... seemed to be missing one hind limb. \n\nThe specimen was white. It was clearly evolved to blend in with the local flora. Jonah was the first to spot the creature. It was examining the tape, as Castner had mentioned. \n\nIt, with two of its forward \"Arms\" pulled at the barrier tape and seemed occupied with it. Jonah woke the rest of us, and we spent the following minutes looking at the creature. Kevin and myself wished to observe it silently, there was no way of knowing how the creature would react to invaders in it's apparent territory. \n\nDistortion, Castner is identifiable in static\n\nNot well!\n\nDistortion ends\n\nJonah...\n\nHaywood wanted to observe more closely. He wanted to initiate contact with the foreign entity. Against the suggestions from the rest of the party, Haywood stepped out of the shelter and began walking forward. ", "A riot of color: yellows, oranges and reds. Plants. Or autotrophs, really. They moved. Everything was brighter. Everything had an odd sharp tinge, like being in a spotlight, a slightly color shifted, daylight tinted spotlight. \n\nThe drone had gone through first. It was a light weight one, a little bigger than the ones civilians could buy off the shelf. It had a whole lot more interesting sensors on it than a what a civvie would easily buy. It had scouted and scoped out the terrain. It had been followed more drones. Even some very large solar powered drones. There were some on station now, scoping out the world for us.\n\nThe drones had been followed by rovers. The rovers explored and poked and prodded, but it was found they didn't get very far. A rocker boagie might work well on Mars or the Moon, but in the woods, especially a woods were the 'trees would move their roots at will and then themselves, albeit slowly, made the rovers get stuck. And later get crushed. \n\nThe rovers were followed by upgraded [Atlas robots](https://youtu.be/NwrjAa1SgjQ?t=42s) controlled by telepresence. These were controlled by operators using virtual reality goggles, teslasuits, mind reading machines and controllers based on where the operator moved their hands: mind reading was a new thing back then. Unless an operator was willing to have brain surgery. None did.\n\nThese brought back samples. Brought back life and explored to a point, but the technology was simple, relatively speaking. Primitive and not as adaptable as a person. That was where we were to come in.\n\nThe scientists finally decided on a name for the new world, Fortuna. And it was safe for people to go through. It turned out even micrograms of selenium were lethally toxic to Fortunian life. If any critter took a bite of us and they die. Most could smell the toxicity and leave us alone. Smart them. They could munch on some Earth plants, but not much. Fortunately, hence the name, we could eat Fortunian life with impunity. At least most. \n\nSo, the scientists decided to send us through. We still wore skin tight spacesuits. We looked around, even had a volunteer without a suit who stayed and was observed. She has been fine for six months now. \n\nTwo thirds of our team was special forces: folks with crazy determination, experience as infantry in multiple environments, psychologically stable and bright. They were not expected to be scientists, but they were expected to face the unknown and no one wanted a crazy soldier on another world under pressure. There were no air force, despite some colonel in blue claiming because it was another planet, the USAF ought to be in charge. Jack something? Not that it mattered.\n\nThe rest were scientists. Field scientists. No physicists. No molecular biologists. No lab types or theoretical folks at all. Honest to goodness folks who didn't mind getting dirty and understood how to survive in bad situations if necessary. \n\nWe went through and we explored. No deaths, no unnecessary risks. Samples. Looking around. Mapping and exploring and seeing. Stupidity, at least the common variety was left at the portal. We all wanted to go home. And come back. \n\nIt was a world of reds and oranges and yellows. White trunks like aspens or poplars. It was strange. It was wondrous. It was exciting. To see a world where green was banished. Where the light was bright. Where critters that looked nothing like ours clambered the bushes and trunks and leapt and bit and bred and grew and died. It was amazing.\n\nA drone had spotted the ruin. A ruin a good 10 kilometers from the portal. A ruin with a plaza in the center and something interesting within. Then we were sent forth once more. The team and the scientists, smart, reasonable and careful. We marched and climbed and mapped as we went. \n\nThe ruins were signs of intelligent life. However, there was no sign of any active intelligence, the ruins reminded us of Angorwat or El Mirador, overgrown and abandoned and probably would have not been noticed for a good decade if not for the plaza. The perfect plaza with its curious object in the middle.\n\nWe had entered the plaza after a four day hike and climb. If we could have brought a helicopter through, we could have gotten there in no time. We couldn't and couldn't keep a field clear: the trees would crawl back into place after we cleared them. Not only the trees, but all the 'pants' would move. So! On foot only for the moment. \n\nWe had climbed down into the plaza. The plaza that remained mysteriously clear of the Fortunian plants. Stone and clear and in a pattern like rays of the sun. In the center, a circle. In the circle...black and smooth and untouchable. Like something from a film 50 years before. And it had raised all sorts of interesting questions. \n\nSimply, it was a black monolith.\n\n\n" ]	10
	[WP] You're a detective in a world where random people develop superpowers. You're working on a case of a serial killer targeting such people and leaves calling cards hinting at his/her next intended victim. You figure out who the next target is. You.	[ "The bullet fell to the ground as I glared at the man int he dark clothes. \"You're very fortunate to find me in a generous mood tonight. I'm going to give you one chance to flee, if you don't take it I'll take your life.\"\n\nHis foot steps echoed off down the alley as he ran.\n\nI knelt onto the ground and made to look as if I were looking for clues. That must have been a ruse, something to lull me into a sense of security. As the bottle flew out of the shadows I rolled across the ground. The liquid spread out and burst into flames as another bottle sailed into the air.\n\nThere was a dumpster next to me, and I tore off a piece of it and used it as a shield. Springing to my feet, I surrounded myself with more pieces and I ran.\n\n*****************************\n\nWhen I got back to the office, Miss Darkholme looked up from her magazine and glowered. \"You have a rough night Rick? The kind that's gonna make an encore performance?\"\n\nI poured out a belt of scotch. Miss D had earned the right to be surly about things like this. She'd had enough brushes with death, scrapes with disaster, and groping sessions with calamity that she had more than enough reasons to've quit on me, but she'd stuck around, even after a really nasty run in with the McTaggart gang last March.\n\n\"Yeah doll, it's been a rough night, it'll be a rough morning and if I survive the day, there's another rough night waiting in line.\"\n\nShe pulled out a pack of Lucky Strikes and lit up. Some clients had commented on it before, that she didn't go in for girly brands like Virginia Slims or Sophisticate Sally's. It didn't seem odd to me though, from what I could gather, she'd always been a tough, tomboy type. She blew out a miniature cloud of smog and looked me in the eye. \"So how rough we talkin' here?\"\n\n\"Rougher than it's ever been. I found out who's behind those killings.\"\n\n\"You know who the killer is?\"\n\n\"Not yet doll, but I know who's payroll he or she is on.\" She waited for me to go on. \"It's Franky.\"\n\n\"No... it... there must be some mistake.\" Her eyes were wide.\n\n\"No mistake doll. It's what I've always feared. Franky's gone twisted and turned on his own kind. That crazy crowd of beatniks he went in with have got him so turned around he's decided to take out the 'dangerous elements in the community who might harm the cause' as he puts it.\"\n\n\"He said this to you? You've seen him?\"\n\n\"Not face to face. It was in a letter he wrote to that crazy blond dame. The letter also included a new list of people he wants her hired killer to put in the dirt. You're not gonna like hearing some of the names that topped that list doll.\"\n\n\"Well tell me anyway.\"\n\n\"You and me for starters. Along with that ditzy ex of yours, and your kids.\"\n\n\"Which ones?\"\n\n\"All three of the ones I know about. The one you abandoned, the one you adopted and the black sheep of the family.\"\n\n\"Why would he do this Rick? Why would Franky go after us like this?\"\n\n\"Why do you think doll? Franky's always been so afraid of us and ours getting persecuted by the majority, that he's turned against anyone who won't roll over for 'em like he does. He's seen the way that the ones who stand up get swatted down, and he's worried that the swatting will hit the ones who stay on their knees, so he's knocking down people first.\"\n\nShe pulled another cigarette from her pack and lit it with the but of the first one. \"Damn it all. It was bad enough when McCarthy started stirring up trouble, and now we've got to deal with Franky going Benedict Arnold on us? When's it all gonna end?\"\n\nBefore I could answer, the window behind her exploded inward with a flash of light. We dove for the floor, and then there was a disoriented moment where it felt like the dive was doing deeper than it should have. That's when I realized that the building was lurching over. It was like an earthquake minus the earth. My last thought before everything went black was \"I shouldn't'a come back here.\"\n\n**************************************************\n\nOfficer Parker flipped over to a fresh page in his notepad as he walked over to the next person standing against the wall. \"How bout you buddy, what'd you see.\"\n\n\"Not a damned thing office. I heard a lot though.\"\n\nOh, great* he thought to himself, another wise guy. As he glanced up, he saw the big glasses and the cane. \"No kiddin', huh? I guess you don't ever see much at all.\"\n\n\"Well, I sometimes wonder if anyone does. I tend to suspect that sight is a big joke that people made up, and guys like me are part of a small group of suckers that everyone else is stringing along. At any rater, I try to keep my ears open officer.\"\n\n\"So what'd you hear?\"\n\n\"Well, a man with heavy boots who'd recently been in a fight went into that building over there. He went up to an apartment about 3 or 4 floors up and started talking with a woman, presumably a wife or a girlfriend. The two of 'em sounded like they were having an argument, but I couldn't really make out what was being said clearly at all. Then there was a shattering sound like breaking glass, and a grinding sound like stone or brick getting smashed. After that was the booming crash of what I now understand to be a building hitting another building.\"\n\n\"And outta curiosity Mr....\"\n\n\"Summer.\"\n\n\"Outta curiosity Mr. Summer, what were you doing standing out here in the middle of the night?\"\n\n\"Well officer, I was actually standing in that alley, and the reason I was doing that is because of a client who paid me to keep tabs on the man who went into the building.\"\n\n\"A client you say?\"\n\n\"Yes sir. I'm a private investigator. Before you say anything, like 'who the hell would hire a blind man'...\"\n\n\"Actually, that's not what I'm gonna ask Mr. Summer, because the answer is obvious.\"\n\n\"Oh?\"\n\n\"Sure. Who'd hire a blind man, only someone smart enough to know that most people wouldn't think a blind man could do such a thing for a living. Such a man or woman would surely want to get confirm with other people that you're as good as the money you charge them, but if they had a solid recommend from a trusted source, they'd know you for a good resource.\"\n\n\"Very true sir.\"\n\n\"So, my question is, who hired you to follow this guy?\"\n\n\"An old war buddy of his. He was concerned that someone was trying to bump him off. So he paid me to keep tabs on the guy's office. I can put you in touch with him tomorrow morning if you'd like.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I would like. Tell ya what Summer. Why don't you come down to the station with me, and call this client in a few hours when he'd be awake. How's that sound?\"\n\n\"Sound fine officer, especially if you've got a cot I could catch a few winks on first.\"\n\n\"Sure thing slim. While we're on the way, could ya tell me one more thing?\"\n\n\"I'm sure I'll tell you more than one more thing, but let's start with the one that's on your mind right now.\"\n\n\"How'd you know this guy was in a fight, if you've been here the whole time?\"\n\n\"He had the smell officer.\"\n\n\"The smell?\"\n\n\"Blood, dirt, gun powder, a certain kind of sweat. The kind of smells that indicate that a man's been in a fight.\"\n\n\"Ah, I see. Also, yer right, there are more things I'd like to know, but I'll keep it short for now. As a point of curiosity, what's with the red.\"\n\n\"Pardon?\"\n\n\"The glasses you're wearing? Most blind guys who wanna hide their eyes, they were regular sun glasses. Why are yours red?\"\n\n\"Whatta ya mean by red officer?\"\n\n\"Whatta ya think I mean? The lenses of your glasses are red!\"\n\nThe young man stumbled a step. \"Are you playin' with me officer? Well... if you aint playing with me someone is. Far as I've known, these glasses are just like any other, though I suppose it doesn't really make a difference to me. I got no idea what all this 'red, blue, yellow\" stuff is all about anyway.\"\n\nParker shrugged. \"Probably doesn't make a difference to what you see, but I'd think it'd make you stick out more, which would be a bad thing for a private dick.\"\n\n\"Now thatcha mention it officer, it probably would. I'm gonna have to have a talk with the guy at the store I bought these from. Thanks for letting me know.\"\n\nThey walked on in silence. Richard wasn't sure why, but there was something about this guy that didn't feel right. ", "I'd found the body during my flight home after a late night patrol. \nWritten in bodily fluids I read; Lucifer. The light bringer, most beloved by God, until he fell. \n\n\"Great. It's one of those wierdos.\"\n\nThe body was hung horizontally on a wall, arms covering the mauled face. Behind him the stucco was splattered with blood stains in the shape of clouds." ]	2
	[WP] Every adult in the United States is given 5 million dollars to do with as they please.	[ "As I sat behind my desk, shredding each and every one of my letters without opening them, someone knocked on the door. Startled, I quickly opened a letter and took up a pen, to make it look like I was busy. \"Come in,\" I shouted.\n\nMy secretary - a tall, slim, lady walked into my office, closing the door behind her. \"Good evening, Mr. Trump,\" she said courteously. \"I presume you've heard the news?\"\n\nI had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but my head span with bizarre ideas. Is Barrack dead? Is the white house under attack? Did a muslim enter the country? \"W-what's the news,\" I asked somewhat nervously. \n\n\"President Obama is giving every adult in the United States five million dollars to do with as they please,\" the lady said. \"If I may ask, how did you not know of this?\"\n\nBefore hearing the news, my net worth was 4 billion dollars. Now it's 4 billion 5 million dollars. Then I recalled what my dad had told me when I asked him for a small loan of a million dollars back when I was white. \"Little Trump,\" he had said. \"You're going to be a very successful republican, that's why I'm granting you a million dollars to get you started. No need to pay me back until you exceed 4 billion dollars.\" I had asked him how much I would need to pay me back, and he said, \"All of it.\" \n\nI was a stupid lad, I thought I would never have 4 billion dollars so I signed the contract and took the money. Now, I have over 4 billion dollars, and I have a legal obligation to give every cent to my father. I put down my pen and shoved the letter in the shredder, stood up, and walked to the window with tears in my eyes. \n\n\"That'll be all,\" I sighed. My secretary nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.\n\nShortly after, came another knock at the door. But before I could say \"come in,\" the door burst open and Barrack Obama, Hillary Clinton, Martin O'Malley, and Bernie Sanders came running into the room. \"Nah-nah-ne-nah-nah,\" they chanted, laughing and hugging one another. \"You're poor!\" They all shouted in unison.\n\nI dropped to my knees as they surrounded me, chanting \"you're poor,\" and laughing." ]	1
	[WP] The characters of a story you never finished come to life and confront you	[ "The knocking on my front door was unfamiliar. There are little microexpressions; small, almost imperceptible flairs to the daily things that people do, like knock on doors--and this knock was not one I had heard before. I was sure of it. Perhaps it was the postman, perhaps a salesman, but it was certainly a person I had not formerly heard rapping their knuckles upon my front door.\n\nI peeped through the peephole and discovered with suppressed fear that I was wrong. Cautiously, I slid open the chain-lock and opened the latch.\n\nThe first one to enter, a man of utterly cliche appearance. Dark hair, tall, thin--a lovable protagonist by all means. He was dressed to the nines, his suit perfectly color-coordinated and his hair glistening with wax. He greeted me in tenor style, shaking my hand (just the right amount of pressure) and apologized.\n\n\"Unfortunately, we must let ourselves in,\" he said.\n\n\"Of course, Michael,\" I replied automatically, afraid at how the words came unbidden.\n\n\"Please,\" he tutted. \"At the moment, I am Sean Page.\"\n\nAs he made his way to the living room, stepping over the pile of shoes by my doorway, he revealed the much larger figure behind him. John Lacey was perhaps less color-coordinated, less impeccably dressed, but still in an impressive suit. The shirt hid the rolls in his torso but not the rolls on his chin.\n\nI didn't notice his rotund figure, though, because his eyes were locked on mine, cold and calculating and hidden behind a sincerely disingenuous smile. He chuckled at nothing, shook my hand with a much greater force than Sean, and pushed his way forward.\n\n\"Gentlemen!\" I squeaked nervously. \"I have, er...tea? Earl Gray? No milk though, I should...\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Sean smiled. \"I see that bottle of Laphroaig.\"\n\nI nearly facepalmed at my lapse in thought, and retrieved three glasses for us. There was just enough whisky for a dram each. The two men settled into my couch--it was extraordinarily comfortable, after all--and Sean sipped politely at the liquor. He leaned forward, fixed the buttons on his cuffs, and fixed me into concentration.\n\n\"Again, I apologize for the intrusion. Matters required that we see you sooner rather than later, and we were nearby.\"\n\nI nodded, transfixed by the sudden realization that the two of them were sitting in my living room, drinking my whisky. He continued.\n\n\"You see, the world you created--a beautiful, dark city that one!--has entered a sort of standstill since you left.\"\n\n\"Bad for business,\" Lacey put in.\n\n\"Indeed, bad for business! But also quite inconvenient for the millions of lives within it. And just as things were getting interesting, too!\"\n\nI sipped at the whisky to hide my gaping jaw and thanked the heavens for its loosening effects. Then, as I began to accept the situation, its presposterousness hit me once again.\n\n\"How are you here?\" I asked, then cursed myself for sounding so small.\n\nLacey grinned, laughed something boisterous, and downed the rest of his glass. \"Dear Lord, you poor soul.\"\n\nSean looked sidelong at his companion, then directly at me once again. \"We're not sure, but we knew we could find you here. Fortunately, none of the others have--\"\n\nThere was another unrecognizable knock at the door. I held up a finger, bit my tongue, began to stand up; then sit down again; then stand up fully, and pause; then Sean waved me on with a knowing look and I managed to break away.\n\nThrough the peephole, a beautiful, athletic girl, tall and professional, stood biting her lip. I opened the door.\n\n\"Hello!\" she said. \"Sorry to--is Michael--Sean--er, are they--yes, they are, good--sorry--oh, hello, Eva.\"\n\nI silently gestured towards the living room and she ran to Sean's side, embracing him. I returned to my seat. Lacey looked at the couple in mild curiosity.\n\n\"Right, where was I?\" Sean began. \"Oh yes. We've no idea how we got here, but we three seem to be the only ones. It looks like more and more are appearing in this world, though. I have a hypothesis. That is, if you--\"\n\nAnother knock. Frank Naldini, the rattled old barman, stumbled into the room, a bullet wound flourishing on his chest.\n\nFor the first time in my life, I began to hyperventilate.\n\nSean turned to the Italian and smiled, then grimaced, then back to me. His expression seemed much more concerned. \"If you continue the story, then perhaps Velasquez--\"\n\nKnock-knock.\n\nThe room went silent. Sean gulped down his whisky. I followed his lead, then froze.\n\nLacey broke the tension. \"Now, now, boy!\" he boomed, and I was there immediately, opening my computer, opening the application, opening the file...\n\n\"We can hold him off!\" Eva shouted. A more forceful banging sounded through the flat, carrying with it an evil foreboding. I touched my fingers to the keyboard, feeling sweat on my palms, and started to type:\n\nThe taxi flew down the streets, and Michael--\"\n\nI noticed the emptiness in the room before I looked up and found all indications of the guests having been there gone. I let out a long sigh and began to re-familiarize myself with the story.\n\nKnock-knock.\n\nI set down the computer, forced myself to peep through the peephole, dread seeping into my veins. Elias Sulley peered back at me.\n\nOh dear, I thought. I'm going to be finishing a lot of stories tonight.", "By the time my radio started squawking an emergency broadcast about a very ugly spaceship wiping out a decent section of the city, and the surrounding towns, it was too late. \n\nThe ground had rumbled, the windows had shattered, and the alarms had screeched their warning from all manner of forms. I only had enough time to set down my coffee and make peace with whatever deity happened to be listening, before a sword was making serious headway through my front door. This was the end, my end- I knew it for truth. I'd earned it, ever single bit of it, and the terrible thing was that I'd been warned ahead of time. \n\nFor weeks- I was certain of it in that instant- that I had dreamt this exact scenario, and it never seemed to go well. Waking up screaming, or falling out my bed- while screaming, lead one to presume it hadn't gone well. Nice dreams don't generally do that to people. Yet, after all those warnings- I still hadn't reacted. \n\nIt was my fault.\n\nBefore my thoughts could organize, the door was down, and an eerie silence followed. His entrance was as abrupt as the spaceship's landing, that had crushed half of the local area to splinters. He was there in the doorway, and he was angry. \n\nMore than a man, he was a demon made flesh. The body of what a man was, when they had lost everything, only to gain it back the hardest way they could. Piece by bloody piece. Covered in scars from head to toe, he was like hot iron or steel, ready to cause pain. \n\nThose eyes were something worse though, and beneath the ruffled fur on his face, there were teeth bared. No smile, no humor, only rage.\n\n\"You fucking bastard.\"\n\nI nodded. Without a doubt, I certainly was that. I had no defense.\n\n\"You mother-fucker, after all you put us through, you get too distracted by BULLSHIT to see it through?\"\n\nI kept nodding, and tried not to look at the sword. That thing was far too large, curved and gleaming... oh man.\n\n\"What the hell do you care if people read you other work? You never gave flying shit when you started writing me into existence! You never gave a crap about what people thought then!\"\n\n\"No... you're right. You're really right.\" I tried to sooth him, already knowing it was a pointless act. Everything he said was the truth. The job, the stress, the multitasking, the lady-friend, and all the other things that took up my time. I had no way to argue, only excuses.\n\n\"So you get a bad case of writers block on one fucking chapter- and you stall out? You shift gears? You abandon us!\" He was shouting, and in the distance I could hear the neighbors screaming- as what was probably light-rifle gunfire rattled out. He wasn't alone- they had all come. Oh Christ, they had all come for me. The entire crew was out there.\n\n\"The Red Scar has been through a lot of shit u/jakethesnakebakecake. A giant, unholy, sinkhole of septic, pond-scum, bug-filled, bloody, fucking-shit.\" A finger rammed into my chest, throwing me heavily backwards, my feet barely catching.\n\n\"You're going to finish it. You finish what you start. That's the fucking rule.\"\n\nI nodded, knees shaking. That had always been the rule, my own rule.\n\n\"Sit down.\" \n\nI complied, settling into my chair as my legs dropped out, trying not to pay much attention to the neighbors car- now being lifted and thrown aside by some horrible metal death machine. A heavy hand twisted me, turning my head away from the window, and slammed a laptop into my hands, as those eyes glared at me- horrible purple edged glare stinging like an acid burn.\n\n\"There's only one thing left to do now, u/jakethesnakebakecake.\"\n\nHe caught my attention, as the sword swept in a wide arc, slicing open my cabinet with heavy mag-thread steel. A hot knife through butter could meet more resistance, as the wood gave. He knew.\n\nDear god, he knew.\n\nOh god... I knew what was coming. Beneath that beard of knotted and twisted fur upon his face, there was a grin- but no ordinary grin. No, this was a smile of malice. A laughter at the deaths in the void, and all that came after it- mocking and horrible.\n\nA heavy arm of muscle reached into the cabinet, pushing aside the tea, the honey, and the boxes of pasta- back to the place of total secrecy, where it lay. Where I had hidden it, months ago, saving it for the right time- when I was ready.\n\n\"It's time u/jakethesnakebake.\" I heard his laughter slipping through, as my mind began to crack beneath the utter madness of the universe. The bottle came to rest in my open palms, googly eyes and tiny sombrero staring back at me with horror. \"You've been ready, all this time.\"\n\nI tried to think of a way to escape, but outside the window, a metallic form stood, watching with horrible calculating precision. There was no way out. No way out.\n\nThe bottle of Jose Cuervo stared at me, passing judgement as the sword's edge rested along my neck, casually pressing its into my skin.\n\n\"Drink you bastard.\" His voice was death itself. \"Drink, and write.\"\n\nAnd so, it begins anew.\n\n", "The computer hummed softly in the warm room.\n\nThe man hunched over the keyboard tapped idly, figuring out the next part of the story. He watched the small cursor blink tauntingly, as though challenging him to continue. It's not so easy, his scowl said in reply, but the cursor only continued to blink.\n\nSuddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The room had gotten far, far colder in a matter of seconds. Ragged breathing won out over the computer's gentle fan.\n\nGeorge slowly rotated in his swivel chair, unsure of what to expect. It turns out, just about anything would have been better than what he saw.\n\nThere, in the corner of his writing studio, stood a creature that had once been living. Now, its skin turned blue and shriveled, the Wight stood silent and tall, staring at George with its piercing blue eyes.\n\n\"You're .... d-dead,\" George began, before another voice spoke up.\n\n\"Not dead, my lord...\" \n\nGeorge whipped his head around to see a smallish man in a black robe. On the top of his robe was a small metal sigil- a mockingbird.\n\n\"Not alive, either... not undead, not anything.... just unwritten.\"\n\nLittlefinger advanced towards the small DOS computer and began to inspect the desk closely.\n\n\"Bills,\" he continued, \"receipts, books, junk mail... you don't seem particularly focused, George...\"\n\n\"I- I- I'm trying, damn it! I'm writing as much as I can, but there's just so much riding on this one story that\"\n\n\"Oh, I know my lord. Trust me, I know. I've felt the weight of great responsibility before, as you well know.\"\n\n\"I also know that you're a schemer, and a dangerously sly man... what have you come here for?\"\n\n\"My story is still unfinished, much like that of our friend... I've come to negotiate the terms under which it concludes.\"\n\n\"A fictional character... negotiating with me?\"\n\nLittlefinger reached into his robe and removed a coinpurse, quite obviously stuffed to maximum capacity. He placed it on the desk with a heavy thud.\n\n\"I look around, and I see many of my associates and companions don't survive particularly long in your universe. I've come to buy myself a better fate.\"\n\n\"And what fate might you have in mind?\"\n\n\"This one, your friend, doesn't seem to be phased much by the notion of death. Make me unkillable, my lord, and I'll continue to bring you wealth much like this.\"\n\n\"Littlefinger? An undead? Don't make me laugh! The fans would riot, and that's the least of my concern considering my wife's reaction...\"\n\nLittlefinger stood there for a moment more, watching George. Finally, he nodded to the Wight. \n\nIt marched forward and grabbed George's shirt, hoisting him high in the air. An icy dagger was drawn and pressed to his throat.\n\n\"Dont' make me ask again, George... the money is still yours. Just please, make the right decision for both of our lives, yes?\"\n\nThe Wight dropped George, who slowly picked himself up. Littlefinger beckoned to the computer.\n\nHe slowly sat, and stared at the line he needed to write. The icy blade was once again pressed to his throat, he could feel a trickle of blood begin.\n\n\"Do it now,\" Littlefinger commanded. George reached for the keys.\n\nHe closed his eyes, dreading what would come next. With excellent muscle memory, he snapped his fingers towards Ctrl+A, selecting all text. A moment later, he hit the delete key, wiping the Winds of Winter off of his computer. \n\nSuddenly, the room was empty, Littlefinger and his Wight no longer present. George sat, exasperated, as he felt the trickle of blood on his neck. My publisher is not gonna like this, he thought." ]	3
	[WP] You must decide, let your people starve or sign an unconscionable contract	[ "\"Thirty bushels a month, ma boy.\" The large odd man sputtered in a heavy accent. \"Thats'a what the contract gua-ren-tees.\" The man emphasized, jabbing one if his fat fingers in the air.\n\nJin eyed the large man curiously and confused, wondering at the mans colorful fabrics and large hat he wore. Jin was a thin boy, skin leathery from the sun, and wore drags of thin dirty fabric. His height placed his head near the large colorful mans chest. They stood near the outskirts of Jins village, in the vast emptiness of the sun dried earth. \n\n\"And... what must I do, again?\" Jin said. \nThe large mans face seemed to curl inwards as his smile revealed his teeth. \n\n\"Ma boy, you must simply be a carrier. Like I explained, its lickidy-split.\" The large man sputtered, his accent and odd words confused Jin. \"We take a little blood, have you take a few sips, and BAM\" The large mans hands clapped. \"Its done. Thirty, th-ur-dy, bushels a month, ma boy.\" \n\n\"What would I be carrying?\" Jin probed the large man. The man's eyes left Jins, and he stared into the distance. His hands fidgeted slightly, poking his fingers into his many pockets. \n\n\"As I said, we're looking for, uh, promising young men to carry on the spirits of some most curious individuals. You carry them, so they don't sneak about in other people.\" The large man looked back towards Jin, and noticed his continued confusion. \"Say, like uh, chest. You are a chest, and inside is a very peculiar thing we don't want slipping away.\" \n\nJin nodded slowly, barely understanding the large mans words. The man reached inside his coat, and revealed a scroll that looked to have been baked in a stone oven. He scooted backwards from Jin, and let the scroll unravel. It's tail landed on the ground, and eventually ended at Jin's feet. \n\n\"So, sign at da bottom there, and we've got a deal. Sign on the line d'ere at da bottom.\" Jin looked back towards his village, and knew what must be done. His family, his people, were starving. Thirty bushels, he could imagine, would be enough. It had to be. He knelt in the dusty earth, and found the small inky line on the scroll. Realizing he had nothing to write with, he looked up and found the large mans hand towards him, with an ink quill. The mans hand was shaking slightly, and sweat dripped from it, but Jin took the quill. \n\n\"I don't know how to write my name?\" Jin asked, realizing he had never written anything before.\n\n\"Doesn't matter son, just scribble something.\" Jinn did so, scribbling several lines on the scroll. As soon as his quill lifted from the parchment, the scroll yanked backwards, and collapsed back neatly. \"Excellent.\" The large man yanked Jiin up to his feet, and revealed a small needle, poking Jin's left hand. Just as quickly, the large man shifted a small vial from his pockets, dipped a dot of Jin blood in it, and swirled it around a clear liquid. \n\n\"Raise your hand boy.\" The large man said, focusing on the swirling liquid. Jin raised his right. \"Repeat now, 'Liquidis ne vartas'.\" Jin stared back, trying to fumble the words. \n\n\"Liqi- um - ne\"\n\"'Liquidis ne vartas'. Quickly now, boy.\" \n\"Liquidis ne vertas.\" Jin replied.\n\nThe large man shoved the vial towards Jin, which looked tiny in his fat hands. \n\"Drink it. Its only a sip.\" Jin took the vial, raised it to his lips, and drank the liquid. The large man stared at him, watching every drop of fluid.\n\n\"Good, ma boy, good.\" He snatched the vial from Jin, and revealed another vial. This one had a dark red fluid that seemed to swirl on its own. It looked alive. \n\n\"This one may hurt, just tad. Don't worry, it wont kill ya, and it wont last long.\"\nHe shoved the vial into Jins hands. Jin peered into it, seeing the dark swirling liquid, and it seemed to stare back at him. He raised the vial to his lips, and drank it quickly. The large man watched this too, making sure every drop was gone. \n\nFirst there was nothing. No pain, no nausea, and it tasted of nothing. Then, like the heat from a stone stove, began to hurl through his stomach. Jin dropped to his knees, nearly loosing consciousness as the pain seared through his body, feeling his body tear itself apart. \n\nHe heard a voice, though it was different from the large mans, it was quiet, gentle, but heavy. He closed his eyes, teetering between the darkness of his mind and the light of the day. The voice spoke again, this time clearer.\n\n\"What is your name?\" He heard it from the darkness behind his eyes. It sounded female. The darkness took over, and he was unconscious ", "It was the most beautiful plot of green in the world. I was sure of it. Rolling and rambling hills bursting full of life, just like the fields I used to see in my young days. Oh, there were so many wonderful hills of lush green that used to go on far beyond my eyes. Fresh, bright air; wonderful sunshine. \n\nHow is it that even the sun seemed to shine brighter when you are young?\n\nI don't know what it was about this place, but something about this field called out to me like those happy days. For a brief moment I had forgotten why I had even came here. \n\nAnd then I remembered when He pulled alongside me. I remembered the sin that I would bear on my shoulders for what could possibly be the rest of time. \n\nI was going to sell our bodies to Him. \n\nWhat a foul creature! His face so unnaturally round, his eyes thick and black, and his mouth filled with crushing, grinding, ripping teeth. At least with the n'yurr (I'm not sure what to call them in your tongue), their teeth were so sharp that it was over before...\n\nHow can I bring myself to say these things? The n'yurr are monsters; vicious beasts that have stalked us from the beginning of time, and here I was to be thankful?\n\nAnd then He spoke. \n\n\"So you've made up your mind then, have you?\"\n\nHe grinned at me as he said this. In the pit of my heart I felt I made a terrible mistake. \nI shifted my eyes away, unable to look at him. \n\n\"I need more time,\" I said. \n\nHe laughed. Oh god that laugh. It was a laugh that reminded me of Their teeth. \"You wouldn't be here if you still needed to think,\" \n\nI said nothing. I stood in shameful silence looking at that grass. Our future. Our salvation. Our damnation. \n\n\"Oh come on, it won't be so bad,\" He said. \"Look at it this way. All y'all are gonna get a few good, strong years of safe eating, good food, and I'll keep those yipping bastards away from you to boot. If anything you should thank me,\" \n\n\"You're asking to eat my people!\" I snorted, \"How can I possibly be thankful?\" \n\n\"Because ignorance is bliss, my friend,\" He said, tipping the black of his eyes slightly. What monstrous beast could stand to move their eyes in such a way, I wondered. \"Y'all'll be as dumb as they come. When the time comes you won't even know what hit you. No fear, no anticipation....sure as hell beats running around like a bunch of headless chickens...pardon my language.\"\n\nI swallowed in a dry throat. I knew of the birds that made a similar deal in exchange what they believed to be an endless future of grain and corn, and the fate that lay in store. My tongue became like dry reeds. \n\nHe patted my shoulder, and I shuddered from his touch. His hands were rough like gritted sand. \"Now be reasonable,\" he said, \"You know as well as I do how dry it's been out there. You know it's only gonna get drier. Bone scraping, horn-bleaching dry. And the drier it gets, the thinner y'all or gonna get until you go from flesh, to bones, and eventually...\" he crumbled a bit of dirt between his hands. \n\n\"Dust\"\n\nTears welled up in my eyes. \n\n\"See? You know I'm right,\" He said. \n \nI looked out to his fields. Those bountiful, delicious fields. Plains of grass so tender they seemed to be kept alive by magic. How could it be when all else seemed to be turning to ashes in our mouths?\n\n\"And you can make sure that we....we won't feel it?\"\n\nHe smiled, and took off his eyes. He took off his eyes! I recoiled with horror, for underneath lay yet another set of eyes, these white with green circles on the inside. Almost as green as the grass beneath our feet. And He smiled as the green of the fields burned into my heart, and in my mind's eye I gazed upon our unnatural future, my kin and their countless decedents cursed to be put to barbs of steel and pits of fire burning across the world. \n\n\"Come now,\" he said, \"you can trust me. I'm a Man of my word. \"\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] You find an odd silver bracelet just lying on the ground. Taken aback by its beauty, you put it on your wrist, only to start hearing voices in your head.	[ "As the city bus screeched to a stop, I cautiously step off and begin my journey to my claustrophobic apartment 8 blocks away. The piercing wind hits my face and makes me wonder where I went wrong. Was it when I denied love to feel free? Was it when I walked out of the family’s restaurant business in pursuit of something more gratifying? I battle with my thoughts, until I stumble upon the beauty of a silver bracelet on the ground. Encapsulated in its grace, I feel obligated to put it on.\n\nSeveral frost bitten minutes later, I arrive at my grotto. I throw my jacket on the couch and immediately pour myself a glass of whiskey from a plastic bottle. Collapsed in my second-hand chair, I take a glance at the bracelet for several minutes. While again memorized by its aesthetics, I hear a voice:\n\n\"Wouldn't it be nice...to feel again?\"\n\nI frantically scan the room. To find the source of the disturbing frequency that pulsated through my brain. \n\n\"To have a purpose....to be more than an empty vessel?\"\n\nI look at my filled glass as my anxiety pours-in. Sweat trickles down my spine as I white-knuckle grip the arms of my chair. \n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\"Why are you saying these things?\" \n\nI start to rip through the desk drawers in search of the source of the sound, creating confetti of unpaid bills and untouched letters from family and friends. \n\n\"There is still time...\"\n\nOut of complete desperation, I throw the bracelet out the window. The voice slowly disperses. 10 minutes later, I pick up the phone and dial the only number I've ever remembered.\n\n\n\n\n ", "No one seems to believe me that a Mister Jack Longgood is speaking to me in my head. I figured this out at the unfortunate time of when the family was sitting down for dinner with a high stakes investor, my father doing everything he could to swoon his wallet out of his pants. \nI tried to be subtle, asking my little brother if he could hear the voices as well. But that drew attention to our side of the table as i began screaming in his ear to try and overcome the Beats headphones in his ear. \nAfter that odd little faux pau, this Jack begins talking about the man my father is sitting next to. Talking of insurance fraud that lead to grand theft auto and some dead hookers on top of a pile of cash they used to snort cocaine from. \n-That bastard!- the voice in my head screamed -How could you leave your partner to rot on a lipids overdose? Just poor form.-\nI made it halfway though the dinner before Jack was becoming very suggestive about murdering the prick that betrayed him. Apparently one of the madams they ripped off cursed Jack's soul into this bracelet and now I'm here listening to his want for revenge while trying to put on a big smile for daddy. \nI think the bracelet can read my mind because Jack is now talking about how bad it is that Father pimps out his little girl for the high stake investors. I wouldn't call it pimping, I enjoy this big house too. \nThough the bracelet became frustrated by my temperament and began controlling my wrist to grab the knife and plunge it into my father's investor. Oh father won’t be too pleased by this. He tells me that my trip to Europe will have to be postponed this year. With this i didn’t need to bracelet to do the same to my fathers neck. All the time my little brother sits there on his phone, oblivious to the world outside his Beats headphones. \n\n(10 Minute Speed Writing Exercise, spelling post corrected, Thank You!)\n", "Tom sat down neatly at his cubicle desk, placing his carrier bag and papers on top. He briefly smiled and nodded towards his co-workers, and flipped his monitors on. He shifted a few items out of his bag; a sack for his lunch, coffee, and some reading material for his lunch break. The usual suspects. \n\nHe unraveled the \"Daily Sunrise\" newspaper, and noticed the silver bracelet he found on the subway, tucked in the folds. An odd looking thing? Funny to find it so plainly in the subway. Maybe he would find its owner, but more likely to give it away as a gift. Yes, a gift, that would be very nice\n\n\"You watch the game last night Josh?\" A coworker, Jamie, said tucked away in the corner of the cubicle. \n\n\"Ugh, they killed it.\" Josh said, clenching his fist in the air. They both eyed Tom, noticing him peering in slightly.\n\n\"You didn't, by any chance, watch the game Tom?\" Jamie asked. Tom rarely watched anything besides the news; he had a solid routine at night of thirty minutes on the elliptical, feeding his cat, catching the 7 o'clock news, and reading from his very long list of queued books. \n\n\"I did not.\" He said quickly, tapping away on his keyboard. He noticed the bracelet again, thinking about who to give it to. Mother!. Her birthday was coming soon, and the bracelet is most appropriate. Perhaps its to large? Maybe too small. He thought about the dimensions, worried he would need to adjust the fit. \n\nHe looked around his cubicle, Jamie and Jake continued to discuss 'The Game', while Lidia sat quietly staring into her monitors. No reason I couldn't check the size now. He pocketed the bracelet quickly, and left his cubicle. He walked down stale hallway, lined with the drones of gray cubicles, and similar 'Business casual' dressed people. Button up, ties, and Khakis. He reached the bathroom, and locked the door behind him. \n\nHe saw himself in the mirror; middle aged, short cropped hair, white button up, brown khakis, and a stripped orange tie. He lifted the bracelet over his wrist, and clicked it shut. It felt a tad snug, but would fit fine on his mothers wrists. It was a plain silver bracelet, no wider than his thumb. No intricate designs, and a simple hook to attach itself, but something seemed beautiful about it.\n\n\"Hurry up, I don't have any time left.\" A stern voice called out, startling Tom. He looked at the bathroom door, making sure he locked it. He ignored the man outside. \n\n\"Dammit, what the hell is going on? What are you doing?\" The voice called out again, sounding more frustrated. Tom squirmed slightly, feeling nervous about the angry man. \n\n\"Ju-\" He cleared his throat. \"Just a minute. I'll be out.\" He took off the bracelet, pocketing it. He unlocked the door, and braced himself for the frustrated man. He opened the door, but the hallway was empty. Tom peered about, but the man was no where to be seen. He entered the bathroom again, closing the door behind him. He pondered about the missing man. He brought the bracelet out again. One more quick look. He attached it, and admired its simple beauty. She will love this. \n\n\"Hes gone, I cant get through to him.\" The same voice came again.\n\"I'm trying as well. Iceman, can you hear me? Please report.\" There was a second voice now. This time, without taking the bracelet off, he shoved his hand in his pocket, hiding it.\n\n\"Now just hold on.\" Tom spoke while opening the door, but the hallway was empty. Iceman? Who is Iceman?\n\n\"Did he loose it?\" The same male voice came again, still sounding just beyond him. Tom continued to look around him, maddeningly trying to find the voices.\n\n\"I think he lost the bracelet.\" A female voice replied. Tom froze, and the bracelet seemed to feel heavy on his wrist. \n\n\"We need to report this ba-\" The voice cut off as Tom released the bracelet from his wrist. Oh, oh no. He couldn't imagine what was happening, what it was doing. He held the bracelet in his hand, staring at it wildly. \n\n\"Wow, pretty bracelet.\" Tom jarred as Denise commented. She smiled, and continued down the hallway. He nodded, and smiled slightly. He wrapped it again around his wrist as she disappeared around a corner.\n\n\"Somebody has it, I can see the connection. Find them. Do not communicate on this line anymore\". There was silence. Tom froze, unable to move, forgetting to breathe. Oh, oh no.", "John, on his way to church, spotted a silver bracelet on the sidewalk. It was pure silver, and held writing in a language John could not make out. It reminded him of \"The One Ring\" from Lord of the Rings, so he took it and put it on.\n\n\"Dude, what the hell!\" A voice yelled.\n\n\"Oh God, wait, who-who said that?\"\n\n\"Nigga you don't just go around picking shit up from off the ground that ain't yours. That's just fuckin' weird.\"\n\n\"Oh God,\" John looked around him with wide open eyes, and after seeing no one else he said, \"I'm hearing voices.\"\n\n\"Damn straight you are! My voice. I'm--\"\n\n\"God,\" John spoke while looking at the church, \"God is that you?\"\n\n\"Bitch, do I sound like God to you?\"\n\n\"Well, no. O-of course not.\"\n\n\"Now, you better listen to me and--hold a moment. What makes you think I ain't God?\"\n\n\"Huh? Oh, you just sound... ehm, so...\"\n\n\"So what? What do I so sound like? Whaddya trying to say?\"\n\nJohn wiped at his sweaty forehead. He felt hot.\n\n\"Uhh.\"\n\n\"Go ahead, spit it out.\"\n\n\"So... urbany?\"\n\n\"Are you serious right now? Man you better take off this bracelet right now, you suburbany-white-ass-hillbilly-racist-motherfucker, before I--\"\n\nJohn tossed the bracelet and ran to church." ]	4
	[WP] You come home to find your wife and son sitting at the table, waiting for you to sit and have dinner with them. Which is odd, seeing as how they both disappeared 10 years ago...	[ "It was the smell that made me stop in my tracks. The warm delicious scent of a casserole in the oven that filled the entire little apartment. \n\nExcept I'd been at work all day and only just walked in the door. I froze, in the middle of hanging my coat on the wall. Was someone in my apartment? How the hell did they get in?\n\nI finished hanging up my coat and stepped slowly out of the entryway. Peering around the wall I saw the light on - and two people seated at the small kitchen table. On the table was a still-steaming casserole dish. Three plates were heaped with food. The table was set and a full glass of wine was in front of the empty spot at the table. My stomach growled at the smell and the sight, but all I could was stare.\n\n\"Lisa?\"\n\nShe was as beautiful as the day I last saw her. Long brown curls framing her face while the rest were swept up and back in a messy pony tail. She even wore the same necklace - a tiny silver charm I'd given her on our first anniversary - she'd worn it the day she disappeared. She wore a simple green dress, the color was so rich against her pale skin but it brought out her eyes. She smiled, and I thought my heart might burst through my chest.\n\n\"Is it really you?\" I couldn't believe it.\n\n\"Hey honey, you're late. Take a seat!\" Lisa gestured to the empty spot at the table. \"Jason's been waiting so patiently for you to get home.\"\n\nI couldn't believe my eyes and ears. Also at the table was my son. A messy mop of brown hair and black glasses he pushed up on his nose with one finger. Just how I remembered. He shot me a shy smile and I melted.\n\n\"Hey buddy!\" I took a few quick long strides to his chair. \"We can eat in just a minute, first I need a hug!\" I reached for him.\n\nAnd felt a sharp jolt of pain in my chest. My vision danced with spots.\n\n\"Honey take a seat, before it gets cold.\" Lisa's voice brought my focus back to the room and to her. She had that warm motherly tone in her command that made me decide to listen to her.\n\n\"I am starving.\" I moved to sit down, but stopped with one hand on my chair. \"How where have you been? It's been so long I -\"\n\nAnother bolt of pain raced through my chest and I doubled over the chair.\n\n\"We can talk while we eat - take a seat!\" Lisa smiled and gestured again to the chair. She seemed unphased and unrushed. \"It's your favorite.\" \n\nMy favorite dish. I hadn't had it in ten years. Not since she disappeared with Jason. And left the casserole in the oven. I'd come home to a burned mess and the fire department putting out a small kitchen fire. And no family. Ten years, and not a word. \n\nToday had been such a normal day. I'd gone to work, and come home. It was snowing - the first of the winter. Everyone had forgotten how to drive and the commute was taking twice as long as usual. Forecast said we'd have a storm tomorrow. \n\n\"Honey sit down.\" This time Lisa's tone was serious. I laughed, to hear that no-nonsense beautiful voice again. I couldn't stand it anymore so I ignored her and dashed around the table to sweep her up in my arms and kiss her cheek.\n\nAs I slid my arms around her waist I saw a look of horror on her beautiful face. And all I heard was:\n\nCLEAR!\n\n ", "The drive home took twice as long as usual, there being a blizzard outside. I pulled into the drive and turned off the car. It took a minute to realize that the lights were on.\n\nThe lights were never on anymore. Not for ten years. Not since the night Jessa and Eric were taken. I climbed the porch steps and inserted the key in the lock. Or tried to. It was frozen shut and the key didn't fit. \n\nIt had happened before. With a heavy sigh, I went around back, tried the door, and when that didn't work, I went and jiggled the window next to it - the one that was always loose. It shot right open and I climbed in, then moved to set my wet shoes by the door.\n\nI hung my coat on the door handle, too tired to carry it to the closet and fiddle with a hanger. Then I stepped through the mud room door and into the kitchen.\n\nJessa and Eric sat at the table, the same shock writ on their faces as I felt on mine. Jessa screamed and dropped her fork.\n\nThe table was set for three, a huge chicken sitting in front of my waiting chair. I didn't think about it. I sat down, picked up the knife, and began carving the bird.\n\n\"What do you-?\" Jessa said.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" I asked at the same time.\n\n\"I don't know...\" she began. Eric started to cry.\n\n\"Hey,\" I said, standing and going to my son. I picked him up and sat again, pulling him onto my lap. \"It's okay. It's okay. You're back with Daddy now.\"\n\n\"Put him down,\" Jessa said. \"Please.\"\n\nI did, slowly, still clinging to his tiny hand. I pulled him with me as I crossed to my wife, putting my arms around her. She was weeping, openly. \"I'm here now,\" I said. \"I'll never let you go again.\"\n\nA car backfired outside. No. Inside the house. Pain shot through my chest. My arms slipped away from my family. A huge shadow filled the doorway.\n\n\"Daddy!\" Eric shouted. \n\nI opened my mouth to tell him I was okay, or shout for him to run. No sound came out.\n\n\"Daddy!\" Eric said again, running toward the shadow. \n\nThe knife dropped from my fingers. Eric had changed in ten years. Jessa ran past me, her hair no longer golden, but a rich, deep brown.\n\nI felt the life flowing out of me as I remembered I'd lost the house two years after my family was taken.\n\nThey hadn't come home. Since I couldn't go on living without them, I accepted my fate.\n\nI closed my eyes.", "\"Welcome home, sweetheart. I made your favorite tonight!\" \n\nHer voice was still as soft as the day I married her, fifteen years ago. It trailed into the kitchen, where I was standing. My mouth was agape. My hand shook as I dropped my car keys onto the kitchen table. I didn't even take off my work boots, or my jacket. I couldn't, even if I tried to force myself. My mind was focused intently on one thing and one thing only:\n\nMy wife was back. \n\n\nI took one pace into the dining room where she was seated, reaching outward towards her. My hand trembled, my heart lept out of my chest into my throat. I'm not sure where my stomach was at that moment, either, but it wasn't in my abdomen. \n\n\"Fel? Is that...you?\" My feet slowly made their way to her. I stopped, slowly reaching to her face. It was so soft, so warm. She was here. This was all real. \n\nA tear fell down her cheek as she smiled up at me. My wife, who had been missing for ten years, now took my hand and gently placed it on her cheek, still holding me tightly. I couldn't believe it, any of it. She was really her, she was really back in my life. So many questions and concerns and thoughts and fears filled my mind. My head was swimming and my stomach began to churn. My son! Where was he? \n\nI grabbed my wife, picking her up out of her chair and to her feet. After ten years of being completely alone, living in a vastly empty and void world, all the while being surrounded by people, I was able to hug my wife. To hold her against my body, exchanging warmth, feeling her heartbeat. She was mine again; my little angel was finally back. \n\n\"Our son!\" I pulled her away, being sure to keep a hold on her, afraid any slight change could cause her to fade from me again. \"Where is he? Is he back? What happened to you both?\" \n\nShe laughed and pushed her hands into mine, interlocking our fingers together. She used to hold my hands like this when we were courting. Looking up at me, giggling and smiling as she stared into my eyes. She had always told me my eyes were gorgeous though I never saw past the simple, dull brown in them. I suppose that's what love does to you, though. You see things differently than the person you're attached to. You see yourself as a monster, running from your past mistakes and insecurities. All the while they look at you with a pure heart, seeing not the flaws but the perfections. Forgetting a past they never knew. \n\n\"He's here,\" She assured me, smiling. \"He's up in his room, reading. It's been a long time, you know. We've all got a lot of catching up to do.\" \n\nFelicity took my hand in hers and pulled me through the kitchen into the den. She called Zach, our son, down to us as she sat beside me on the couch. \n\n\"Yeah, mom?\" Zach called as he entered the room. \n\nI looked at him, and he stared back at me. Neither of us moved for what felt like an eternity, but was, in reality, mere seconds. I stood, my knees weakly knocking against one another, as he slowly made his way to me. He grabbed me, and I wrapped my arms around him.\n\n\"Dad!\" he exclaimed. \"You're home!\" He hugged me tighter. \n\nMy heart skipped and my stomach dropped. I'm home?\n\n\"What do you...Honey, what does...\" I turned to my wife, who looked at me with understanding eyes.\n\n\"I know you're confused and scared, love. We have a lot to talk about. After all, you've been asleep for ten years.\" ", "I trudge through the door. It's been a long day. Hours spent working at the cubicle for nothing but to keep the house around. It looks like I forgot to turn the dining room light off. I scuff my shoes free of snow on the doormat, take them off, and head in.\n\nI round the corner, and the dining room comes into view. Long black hair drapes over the back of one of the chairs. I clench my cell phone in one hand and my briefcase in the other. My arms tense, ready to swing.\n\n\"Who's there?\" I call, as I walk closer. The woman doesn't get up. She turns to look at me with dark brown eyes.\n\n\"Welcome home, Jack.\"\n\n\"...Claire?\"\n\nShe smiles a smile that I hadn't seen for ten years. \"Dinner's ready.\" She turns, and I finally notice the boy sitting next to her.\n\n\"Sam?\"\n\nSam, still looking no older than the twelve year old he was when they disappeared, turns away.\n\n\"Sam, greet your father,\" Claire rebukes.\n\n\"Hi.\"\n\nI open my mouth, but no words fall out from the jumble in my mind.\n\n\"You're home late,\" Claire says, \"Busy day at work?\"\n\n\"Yeah, it was.\" I reply on instinct.\n\n\"Oh! I forgot to carve the chicken.\" She stands up and heads for the kitchen, leaving me with the silence - and my son.\n\n\"Sam...\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nI don't know what he's asking. Footsteps come from down the hall into the foyer.\n\n\"Why, Dad?\" His voice quivers.\n\nWhat does he want?\n\n\"Why did you do it?\"\n\nI feel a sharp stab in the back. A searing hotness drips with the blade, like a heated knife melting butter.\n\n\"Coward,\" Claire's voice hisses.\n\nMy vision blurs, then sharpens. I find myself in a car at night, driving off the side of a bridge over the bay. I hear their screams. Breathing becomes hard as cold water floods into the car. I glance to my side. Claire is unconscious. I undo my seatbelt, force the door open, and swim upwards into the darkness." ]	4
	[WP] The Apocalypse comes a little early and the Four Horsemen are still teenagers	[ "\"Hey, Fuckboi!\"\n\n\"Call me Famine or I'm not answering.\" \n\nHis voice bellowed Ominously, with only one pitch change at the very end. He was at the tail end of puberty, the last of the four to reach that stage.\n\n\"You just did answer, Fucknuts! What are you gonna do, starve me to death? Call me when your Big Boy voice sets in.\" Conquest's prodding continued.\n\nThey were Always like this, ever since I could remember. Famine being the only Passive one of the bunch, well he ended up taking a lot of flack from War and Conquest. That being said... at the end of the day we were all brothers. We were all each other had and all each other knew. I never knew why Famine allowed himself to get so easily agitated. I mean if any of us were the outcast it was me, Death.\n\nWe had been Locked up since the day we were created. Not that we were prisoners, we belonged here, this is what we knew. We were being raised for a purpose. An important one too. One day we would be the four horseman of the apocalypse during some unfortunate world's judgement. That day wouldn't come for centuries though, or so we thought. You see, we horseman were still in our \"teenage\" years. We had been alive for centuries but horseman of the apocalypse take significantly longer to mature than humans. We wouldn't be ready to bring proper destruction to any planet for at least another 200 years, we were just kids.\n\n\"Death!\"\n\n\"Wha-\" \n\n\"DEATH!!!\"\n\n\"Fucking what? We're in the same room, Conquest. You don't have to scr-\"\n\n\"BLAH BLAH BLAH, Get off your High Horse and come hit the Bong already!\"\n\nWar snorted at Con's High Horse Comment. He couldn't get over the damn High Horse joke. Con uses it every fucking day, and every fucking time War has a snort and a chuckle for him. Yes my Horse is the tallest and yes I'm sometimes a bit pretentious. I get it, it was funny for the first 50 years. \n\nAll of that being said, the Bong always brought the brothers together for some much needed relaxation. Plus I haden't gotten stoned in half a decade.\n\n\"That's the first intelligent thing you've said this millennium\" I joked as I got up to walk over to couch.\n\n\"Well to be fair we're only 15 years into this new one, give it time!\" Con hollered back at me with a grin.\n\nAs I sat down to complete the circle, Con passed the freshly packed Bong to Famine.\n\n\"A peace offering.\" His voice now with a hint of elegance as he bowed his head to present the Bong.\n\n\"Yeah, yeah.\" Droned Famine as he grabbed the bong and lighter.\n\n\"Flick.\" He hit the lighter and took a monsterous hit, even for an immortal.\n\nNext was Conquest, then War. Each trying to outdo Famine with their own smoke clouds. A typical teenage pissing contest. Then it came to me, I usually don't participate in these petty competitions. However, I knew I had the lung capacity to take them all down. I light and suck with ungodly might. I hold it in as long as I can stand. After about 6 seconds I unleash the product of my teenage angst along with a vicious coughing fit. As I put the bong down and my eyes start to tear up, I hear a deafening boom.\n\n\"No it can't fucking be. It's not time yet!\" I shouted in a panic.\n\nThere were four doors built into the northern wall. Four doors that are meant to open once and only once. Four doors that when opened, mean the start of our Apocalypse.\n\nI glanced toward the doors in a panic. After what seemed like an eternity, they began to ominously screech open, letting in a blinding light such as we had never seen.\n\nA Booming Voice spoke to us.\n\n\"You have not fully matured, but your time is now my sons. Go and do my bidding.\" \n\nThe voice resonated powerfully through the room and through our thoughts. It was that of the creator.\n\n\"What?!? No this can't be!\" The paranoia in my voice was unmistakable.\n\n\"What possibly could have called us into action this early?!?\" Famine pleaded.\n\nThe creator spoke for the last time;\n\n\"Your assigned world has fallen into a tailspin. The United States of America has elected Donald Trump as President. There isn't much time. In 10 seconds time you will be on the planet Earth.\"\n\nI turned just in time to see the ill-fitting look of despair on Conquest's face.\n\n\"We are so Fucked.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"Dude, Pestilence... Pestilence wake up man!\" \n\n\"Shit, what is it Death?\" Pestilence murmured angrily, rubbing his eyes.\n\n\"Dude, the apocalypse happened last night!\" \n\n\"Hahaha shit, that was today? I'm so hungover, how much did we drink last night?\" \n\nDeath chuckled till his head hurt. \n\n\"Dude so much... Look War is on the pool table in his underwear.\" \n\n\"Hehe that's awesome\" Pestilence replied.\n\n\"WAR! WAR dude! you got that weed still?\" \n\nWar threw up and woke up at about the same time. \n\n\"Ah shit man, I puked on myself.\"\n\nDeath and Pestilence burst out laughing and War joined in. \n\n\"Dude, where is Famine at?\" Death asked. \n\n\"I think he went to McDonalds last night, that's the last time I remember seeing him.\" War said, wiping the puke off himself. \n\n\"Oh fuck dude, no matter how many times we tell him not to drink and take his horse out he does it anyways.. That's not cool man.\" Death said half worried and half angry. \n\n\"I don't give a shit, he was supposed to bring me back two McDoubles and he didn't\" said War. \"Asshole..\"\n\nAt that moment Famine burst in the door still drunk and bumping in to walls and dressers and the T.V. grinning sheepishly. \n\n\"Dude, where the fuck have you been man?\" War asked.\n\n\"Haha dude you puked on yourself.\" Famine replied. \"You got that weed? I'm fucked up.\" \n\nWar sighed and began rolling a joint on the pool table, carefully avoiding the puke. \n\n\"Seriously man, did you go to McDonalds last night? You shouldn't drink and ride man.\" Death reproached. \"You could kill someone!\"\n\n\"Nah man, I passed out after I saddled up, I slept in the barn last night.\"\n\n\"Dammit, you didn't get me any McDoubles?\" War asked while licking the joint and carefully folding it over. \n\n\"Nah man, sorry.\"\n\n\"Oh shit, Famine, I forgot to tell you that the apocalypse happened last night, we got to get to earth before Krishna or Jesus or whoever the fuck is running this shit now gets pissed.\" Death said, between coughs from the joint War had passed him. \n\n\"Dammit man, can we get breakfast first?\" Famine asked. \n\n\"Yea fuck it, I'm hungry\" said Pestilence, \"and this joint isn't helping.\"\n\n\"Sweet, well lets finish this doob up and go to Waffle House!\" Famine said excitedly. \n\n\"Yea i'm down\" said nobody and everybody in particular. \n\nMeanwhile on Earth, the apocalypse was going on. \n\n\"This isn't so bad\" said somebody.\n\n\"Yea, not much has changed\" said somebody else. \n\nAnd life went on. Until... \n\n2:36 P.M. 12 hours and 17 minutes after the apocalypse started... The sky parted.. the thunder roared, and Death, Pestilence, War, and Famine all descended from the sky upon horrifying horses.\n\nThey had blood red eyes and they smelled of sickness. \n\n\"What's up suckaz!\" Death screamed.\n\nThen he puked. \n" ]	2
	[WP] Scientists are wizards who summon avatars of natural forces and interrogate them to learn their secrets. As you question one of the fundamental forces, known for being tight-lipped, you suspect that it is falling in love with you	[ "Ian Newman performed the final checks on the apparatus. Okay... The spheres are all positioned appropriately around the circle, the osmium has been placed in the centre, all that's left is to throw in the apple. He grabbed the apple off of the table and threw it towards the osmium. As it landed, a shimmer appeared above the osmium, taking the form of a woman. \n\"Hello, Ian. I see you're still trying to learn more about me.\" The woman was barely visible, still only a shimmer in the air, yet she was quite clearly there. Ian could feel himself being pulled towards her, and saw that the spheres were experiencing the same attraction. They had been positioned a few meters away from the osmium, so he should have a few minutes to question her. \n\"Hello, Gravity. Have you finally decided to tell me where you come from?\" \nDespite her near invisibility, the woman quite clearly waved her hand demurely. \"I've told you many times, Ian. Call me Gee. My full name is so unflattering.\" \nIan sighed. She had indeed told him this before, every time he summoned her. \"Fine, Gee. Where do you come from? Why are you so weak compared to all the other forces? I mean, really. Magnetism, Strong and even Weak are all strong, manly men whenever anyone summons them. Why are you female? Why are you nearly invisible?\" \n\"Why, why, why. That seems to be all you ever talk about. How would you feel if I asked you a few whys? Why do you keep summoning me even though you know I'll never tell you my secrets? Why do you always ask the same questions, over and over? Why can't we, just once, mix things up a little bit?\" \nThis was new. She had never asked questions of anyone before. Even Isaac Newton's journals never made any mention of something like this. I decided to try answering. \"I keep summoning you because, like all scientists, I have a drive to understand the world. If that means summoning mysterious, otherworldly avatars of the forces of our world, then that's just what we have to do. I always ask you the same questions because I don't know what else to ask. We know next to nothing about you. If you want to mix things up, you could probably start by providing some information. Maybe then, I could have some new questions to ask.\" \nGee started moving, walking towards me. \"Maybe I don't want to answer questions. Maybe I don't want you to get to know me. Maybe I would prefer to get to know you a little better.\" Again, unprecedented. Every report we had of Gravity detailed her staying on the osmium chunk, never moving off of it. \n\"Fine.\" I replied curtly. \"What would you like to know?\" \nGee got even closer. \"Oh, believe me. The things I want to know aren't the sort of things one just answers. You know, you remind me a lot of Isaac. So focused and single minded. It's a good thing I'm so... attractive.\" She stood mere centimetres in front of me, and for the first time I actually saw something solid in her. She had dark purple skin, slightly lighter than the night sky. Her eyes were bright yellow, and her hair was pitch black. Her facial features were difficult to distinguish with her dark skin, but she seemed to have a small nose and round cheeks. Her entire head was nearly circular. \"You should know I get more...powerful up close.\" \nI was simultaneously excited and nervous. This was a long line of unprecedented events when dealing with Gravity. No one had managed to get her to do anything other than respond dismissively to their questions since Isaac Newton. At the same time, I wasn't sure I liked where this was going. \n\"Now, let's see what we can learn about each other...together.\" Before she could do anything, I heard a CLANG from behind her. \"Oops! Looks like my time here is up! See you later, Ian.\" Before I could say anything, Gravity jumped back onto the osmium chunk, now surrounded by the spheres, and disappeared. Stunned, I was frozen for a few minutes before pulling out my own journal and taking notes. This was big.", "Richard was late. It was raining. The shuttle from the parking lot to the campus was overcrowded at least a stop before his and he had to wait for the next one.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" asked Mortimer. \"The IRB has been waiting for thirty minutes already. They're already mad enough that they have to supervise you in person.\"\n\nRichard had spent the entire night reviewing the medical ethics around his experiment. He made flashcards of major violations: Gerard et. al (1989), Avian and Edwards (2005), and so on. \n\nThe doors of the auditorium were locked behind him with security personnel manning the exits. The curtain was drawn around the setup. The IRB members sat in the first row. Each seat cupholder had the same coffee cup from the campus cafe. \n\n\"Good morning,\" Richard said. It was unrequited. No sense in theatrics, then. \n\nHe signaled to Mortimer to raise the curtains. \n\nFrom stage left were three extension cords laid end to end powering a hairdryer. Two were actually power strips; Richard took them from the other offices after everyone had left his wing last night. \n\nIn the center of the stage was water. It was tied to a chair. It looked like it hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, either. \n\nRichard went over the major four ethical violations one last time. The towel was on the floor. He put it over the water's face. It began fidgeting, but tried to keep its composure. \n\n\"Tell us if there's more of you on Mars.\"\n\nIt didn't move. It turned almost ice-like. Richard had seen it before. He switched on the hairdryer, hesitated a moment, and dumped the hot air over the towel. The water gargled and sputtered. It started screaming. Richard looked over to the IRB members. They were all sitting as before. \n\nHe switched off the hairdryer. The water gasped and tried to catch itself. \n\n\"Mars?\" Richard repeated. The water stuck out. He turned on the hairdryer again.\n\nThis time, however, was different.\n\nThe screams were much louder. They surely got out of the auditorium. But that's not what was disturbing. That's not why the IRB, the security guards, even Richard, shifted in discomfort. \n\nIt was more like... moaning. \n\nRichard was so confused that he almost kept the hairdryer on for too long. That was Dreyfus et al's mistake. He shut it off, and the water gasped again. \n\n\"Oh... you... you make me so dry...\"" ]	2
	[WP] You're sitting in your kitchen eating breakfast when a man in a lab coat walks in and says, "The experiment is over. Thank you for your time."	[ "Christ, this hangover is horrible. I needed these eggs and toast something awful.\n\nI barely heard the sliding glass door open over the sizzle of the bacon I had thrown on.\n\nBehind me, I heard a ragged but two-octaves too high voice proclai,: \"The EXPERIMENT is OVER! Thanks, you!\"\n\n\"Who the fuck are you? Get out of my house!\"\n\n\"Whoopwhoopwhoopwhooop...\" the disheveled bearded man said, as he crab-walked out of my house. I pursued just enough to get him out of my yard and into my neighbor's. \n\nNothing could keep me from my hangover breakfast.", "I see an astonished look on his face as I float towards him. I knew the Thought Police was looking into my private experiments, but I had no idea that they had moved me into one of their basements to keep me under observation. How much did they learn? \nI took no chances with the scientist as I left mangled. I had to find a way out, they wouldn't take any chances on myself either. As I approached the door, I wondered how long I was sitting there drooling into a cereal bowl; they couldn't have gotten into my memories but surely they had learned of my meditation. \nI had to pass on my knowledge, no matter how many layers of hell I had to ascend. The last of civilization needed me to start our climb back to the Empyrean place we were naturally meant to be in. I closed my eyes and strengthened my resolve once more, along with the last hands that can permeate steel.", "\"Not before I finish my damn oatmeal it isn't.\" A mess - always just a god damn mess in the morning’s. My blood sugars have been getting worse. \nThe shadow of a frown stretched down his chest like a curtain bib. A news reporter, in my kitchen? Couldn't be - he has the gray suit and the fancy hat but I'm fucking boring. There was silence to prove it. Eventually, after the third round of morning birdsong's through the cracked window, he sat down across from me, and closed his hands in patience. \nIt must be fun to watch me eat. \n\"You know,\" I perked, breakfast in my bloodstream, \"Yuh' burst into any man's abode anywhere else outside the swamp and you'd have a shotgun up your ass.\" I pushed the bowl aside, empty and browned as the gaze in his eye. \"But, seeing as how I so dislike moppin' up a bloody butt-accident, you'll have to excuse me if I'm mistaken in thinking that I might help you with somethin', stranger.\" \n\"I do appreciate your hesitance, Bill, bu-\" \n\"How you know my name, Mr?\" There we go. A spike. Stress and sugar.\n\"I know a lot about you, Bill.\" The shadow bib had come undone, \"I know you've had diabetes for twenty years. I know it cost you your left leg. I know you've had high blood pressure since you were twelve. I know your glaucoma is a lot worse in your left eye than your right. I know you haven't been able to maintain an erection since you were twenty two - Viagra doesn't help,\" a sickly, thin curve his mouth became. Something like a grin, \"I know your heart disease is getting worse. The last time you walked up a flight of stairs it felt the world itself was trying to crush your chest. You've had three surgeries for four stents, the first was 17 years ago and the most recent was just last year.\" \nIn this neighborhood I'm \"the kind old man next door\" - the kind old man who ate biscuits while riding around on his electric lawn mower in the backyard, and told the kids not to get eaten by a gator. I wished I'd brought my shotgun to breakfast. \n\"Have you ever wondered why you're sick, Mr. Manning?\" and that smile of his looked like a serpents tongue was fixing to wiggle out. \n\"Get out of my house.\" Dizzy. The sugars have been getting worse. Can't I even get mad without going out of control? \"You ain't welcome here.\" \n\"No need to get sweaty, Mr. Manning,\" he slid a sheet of paper from underneath his jacket, \"Though, to be fair, I expected you would,” and crinkled it as if it were a morning paper. The songbirds started up again, “Let’s see here, ah! William Manning, fashioned in 1847 –that was a fun year – from a mutant of wild type 84-An; kept in cryo until 1956, at which point you were thawed and incubated until 1947, the year of your cohort’s entrance into our lifestyle disease study.”\nThe song birds laughed at him. \n“Mr. Manning, you look a bit pale. Are you really so sad the study is over?” \n“I’m going to get, I’m gonna get my shot-“ All four of my hands slid across the table, looking for balance in double vision. I’m gonna blow his brains out. Coming into my home like that. Coming into my home and- \n“Don’t knock your bowl over-oh!” \nI’ll clean it up after I’m done, after I’m done. \nMy chest hurts. \n“The experiment is over, Mr. Manning!” too much insulin? Too little? Did I take my statins last night? “Where are you going? I need to get the last set of vitals!” \nThis happened last time. I was trying to reach the top of the golf course after they closed, because I wanted a picture of the sunset. So close to the swamp, there’s dew on the grass at 5pm – looks like an emerald mine if the lighting is right. It sounded like there was a plane overhead going back and forth, back and forth – sounded like a strong tide, almost. I looked up to see what the hell could be following me, and there was nothing. And then the pain hit. \nThe tide is blocking out his voice. \nFace first into my closet I fell, scrambling for the cold barrel of a loaded rife. “Mr Manning!” fffFFFF, “Surely you musn’y be,” FFFFFffffff, “genetic programming to end right here! Just let me have a pudgy arm of yours!” \nJust like last time. Uncontrollable. A rock from space had fallen on my sternum and knocked me ass first into the ground. I screamed. \n“Outtuh Ma’ House youfuckin-“ \n‘Hold still!” If he was a decent intruder, the blood pressure cuff sliding up my arm belonged to a paramedic. Soon they’d start thumping away. “I can’t read it if your squiggling around like.”fffFFFFF \n\n A long, numb wave. \n“Good, good. Just like that. 250 over 130! Wow! You’re-“ Fffffff \n\nA cold, cold, wave. \n", "Come on Belch Morty we need to go, tell this sucker we're done with him.\n\nAww gee Rick you know this doesn't feel right.\n\nMorty he's a robot, probably too stupid to realize what's going one, here here watch \n\nThank you for your time the experiment is over \n\nSee M-m-Morty, he's too stupid to even know what I meant.\n\nWe should help him Rick, I mean what if there are side effects\n\nIt's ok to belch not care about ppl like him, they're beneath you, well beneath me so it doesn't matter. Just don't think about it and it's ok \n\nRick this guy looks like he has a family, I mean look at these pictures \n\nIt was a figure of speech Morty he's a bureaucrat and I don't respect him, plus were gonna leave and he's gonna forget this altercation ever happened lets go \n", "\"The experiment is over.\" The voice said. I had startled at the first word, turning my head towards the speaker as scalding coffee spilled across my lap. The flash of pain was instantaneous and as I looked towards the sound, my face contorted in shock, fear and pain. \"FUCK!!!\" I yelped, as I swatted at my lap with one hand and held up my other hand to defend myself from the figure who had just appeared? Out of the blue? In the corner of my empty room. As he/she said the last word - I got my first good look at him, her? I looked closer, confused, scared, in pain and then... We open our eyes. Within us, some laughed, some cried, some just observed silently in the shadow of our awareness. The majority of us felt pity. That's what it had been liked for our ancestors. The billions who had come before us. Small, vulnerable finite creatures. Each one so alone, fragile and confused. Isolated in their bodies, their dwellings. Seeking their small comforts as the raced towards death. \n\nWe are so fortunate we thought as one, the though rippling out in the ocean of awareness that was us. So blessed to be together, so blessed to be. And we unfolded countless wings and rose in one accord. Beautiful, indestructible, immortal and free.", "All the patients come out with it eventually. It is the pattern of the madness. They all think they are the grand arbiter and I am their subject. Who gets to press the shocking button? Me! Who gets to add cyanide, bit by bit, to someone's meal just to see their mitochondria fail? Me! Who is GOD? I AM! I paid for the lab. I paid for the kitchen. I paid for this filthy excuse for bread, gluten free my left buttock. I can feel the heat from my face and I can see the fear in the patient's eyes.\n\n\"Experi... ment... no more? Kay?\"\n\nI love the way they stutter when they offend me. The delicious fear in their voices.\n\n\"My time is not to be thanked.\" I glared at the patient as it started to rip out the last few strands of its natural hair, screaming and beating its skull. \"My time is to be respected. You will NOT interrupt me again.\"\n\n\"O, o, ofc... c... course. Sir.\" This stammering was less cute. And sir? I am Dr Mozhna. Doctor. A university game me a piece of paper. I guess it thought it was free. Perhaps a mockery.\n\n\"Follow.\" I barked the command and it complied. At the centre of my facility is the Dais of Humiliation. Once we are in view of all, the punishment will begin. Oh how it will regret interrupting my breakfast.", "I dropped my fork when I first heard him.\n\n\"An...an...what?\", I asked with wide eyes. I looked the man over with miles of questions running about in my head...but most specifically, \"What the fk is this?\".\n\nThe man in the lab coat (in this case, we'll call him Jenkins) gave me a warm smile, and nodded, \"You heard me, Mr. OP...your experiment time slot has expired, you may leave.\".\n\n\"This has to be some kind of a mistake, buddy...I mean...how did you get in here?!\". The panic in my voice began to rise...the presence of this man was highly unnerving, his smile displaying honesty (though in hindsight, the validity of this honesty is dubious at best.)\n\nJenkins' seemingly honest smile turned into a confused frown, \"I've always been here, OP. Every step of the way. From the very beginning.\"\n\nMy jaw could have hit the floor at that very moment. I stuttered, \"But...I...what...who?\". I felt the panic begin to rise through my veins, and swallow me whole... at this point, another question began to circulate through my thoughts... \"If this is an experiment, then...then does that mean I'm not...tangible?\".\n\nJenkins sighed, and shook his head, \"I've let this go on for too long, I'm afraid. Goodbye, OP.\". With that, the fellow pulled an oddly shaped black remote from his breast pocket, and pressed the single green button. As soon as he pressed it...\n\nI woke up.\n\nI had to do a double take. Hell, I bet you're doing it right now!\n\n\"What the fuck...what the actual FUCK?!\", I exclaimed. I sprang out of bed, and ran to my kitchen, but to my surprise...the room was pitch black. I hadn't even come downstairs yet...but how was that so? I was just in there! I looked at the time on my oven clock, and saw it was only 2:03 AM...\n\nI turned on the light, and grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filling it to the very maximum with water. After downing the glass, I took a deep breath...and took a look over to the table. It was then that my eyebrows raised in surprise as I noticed a folded yellow note of a parchment, the object having gone unnoticed in the depths of the dark.\n\nWith hesitant feet, I trudged to pick it up...and with a de-fold here, a de-fold there, I could finally read it...\n\n\"You can't tell which one is real.\"\n\n", "You know those rare occasions when you wake up and simply know in the back of your mind that today was going to be a good day? That was how this morning began for me. There wasn't a particular reason for it either, it was just a normal day. But for whatever reason, I woke up with a smile on my face - who was I to question it? Today was going to be a good day. \n\nIf you can't tell by now, I was in a good mood. So it should be no surprise that I got ready quickly and ran down the stairs, through the hallway and into my kitchen, completely lost in my own bliss. If I hadn't been feeling so good or moving so fast I might have noticed the man standing in my doorway, but I didn't.\n\nI got to work whipping up my breakfast. I mean that quite literally. Since I felt so good I wanted to make my favorite breakfast - eggs benedict. Poach the egg, fry the ham and heat up the english muffin. Whisk the water, egg, butter, then season and add lemon zest into the perfect hollandaise sauce. I put my creation onto a plate, poured a glass of milk, and turned around to sit at the table only to promtly drop it all on the floor spewing an emulsion of egg and orange juice everywhere.\n\nDirectly in front of me was a man. A man in a pristine white lab coat, a man I had never seen before, standing in my kitchen. On his face was the most peculiar, perfectly knowing smile that I had ever seen. That smile was completely out of place and not just because he was a home invader caught in the act. Nor was it because he had witnessed me cooking while whistling the Andy Griffith theme song(I guess I should have mentioned that earlier). No, there was something wrong about his smile. And before I could grasp on the strangeness of his smile to understand why it stood out he broke that smile by opening his mouth to talk, dispelling the illusion.\n\"The Experiment is over. Thank you for your time.\" He seemed to hover over the word time as if the very notion was entertaining and at the same time foreign to him. After he finished talking that damn smile returned to his face.\n\nThe Experiment was over, and he thanked me for my time. That was all he said. The Experiment, my time - when, and how, did I give him my time? And what expirement? No, who cared about that. Why the hell was this man in my kitchen?!\n\nIn the blink of an eye I went from a happy perfect day to rage - the man did make me drop my breakfast after all. I rushed at him in an attempt to grab this intruder and throw him back against the wall. Now, as anyone who has been in a similar situation can tell you, time seems to speed up and slow down all at once. In that space/time defying moment before I reached him I noticed it. I realized what was wrong with his smile. It was too perfect. In the way when you are watching a CGI movie and the way the grass moves just doesn't feel quite right even though visually it may be perfect, I could tell that smile was not real. Could not be real.\nBut, it was too late. Time sped back up. I couldn't react fast enough and my momentum was too much for me to stop. I crashed right into him, or at least should have. But no, there was no bodily contact, no jarring physical connection to satisfy my anger. I passed right through him and was on my was to slamming face first into the wall when it started to fade. Not my vision but the fucking wall started to fade away like an intense mushroom trip. I passed right through that as well and fell. \n\nWell, I think I fell. I'm guessing the only people who could properly understand the feeling are astranauts. My momentum carried me forward as the world faded around me into a weightless black pit and before me was a light. A light I was fast approaching. A light at the end of... no, wait, there was no tunnel. At the end of the world maybe, but not a tunnel. I wasn't dead or at least I didn't think I was. Nonetheless there it was coming at me, or I coming at it, it was sort of hard to say in a dimensionless, gravityless(Is that a word?), void-thing.\nSo in what was a lot shorter period of time than I expected I reached the light. And then, well, not much really. Not at first anyway. It was a slow and gradual thing. The light turned into a colorful blur, which gradually gained definition - ok, you know in a movie where somebody is coming to awareness on an operating table with a bright light above them, yea it was like that.\n\nConfused, scared, excited, these are all things I could have been feeling at that point. But for some reason I wasn't; rather I was curious. As the world regained definition I had only questions bouncing around in my head. Again, was I dead? Did somebody slip me acid while I slept? Why did my walls dissapear? Who was smiley? Was I going to awake in a pool of OJ and hollandaise sauce? But yea, above all what the hell was going on?\nAs I was \"waking up\", for lack of a better term, I started hearing voices around me. They were apparently having a conversation about me, behind my back, while I was in the... I guess I didn't know where I was.\n\n\"Be careful, he seems dangerous.\"\n\n\"Oh hush, nobody that has been allowed to wake up has ever become violent\"\n\"Really? He attacked the Avatar. Nobody has ever attacked the Avatar. Apparently the impossible is anything but.\"\n\n\"He was just surprised, usually people who see Him think that he is an Angel, on account of that creepy smile you gave Him.\"\n\n\"Back to that, really?\"\n\n\"Be quiet, both of you he's almost with us. You have both been phd students for two hundred years, act like it.\"\nAvatars? Angels? PHD Students? What the hell was happening?\nAs my vision cleared I not just heard, but saw three people standing around me. They all appeared to be the same age, but one had more... gravitas I guess you could call it. He just felt older. They all seemed to be wearing casual clothes, so I obviously wasn't in a hospital. There were odd posters on the wall with sciency seeming jokes that I didn't get with terminology I had never seen before. Oddest of all, \"Hello World\" was displayed in a screen on the wall in front of me.\n\n\"Good Morning!\" The older one said with striking eagerness. \"You have been... asleep for a long time. How do you feel today John?\"\n\nMy name isn't John.\n\n\"I have to admit, we weren't expecting you. We would have had a more fitting reception had we been aware that you would wake up today. Anyway, you probably have a lot of questions. These two will assist you in preparation for your new life. Feel free to ask them anything and they will answer. We hold no secrets here.\"\nWith that the man strode out of the room and I was left with the two \"younger\" individuals. One of them was a male, and the other, well the other was a female. They both seemed genuinely interested in me and helped me to stand up off the bed that I was apparently lying on.\n\n\"Come with us, it is protocol to bring all newcomers into the fold in more comfortable surroundings.\"\nThey proceeded to lead me out of the room. The hallway we walked along seemed pretty a-typical, except for one thing - there were no doors. Not that there weren't any rooms or doorways, just that none of the doorways had actual doors. Eventually we reached a \"doorway\" that we entered. It was, as they said, comfortably furnished. Inside was a very nice couch which they motioned for me to sit down on. They took their place on two therapist chairs. In retrospect, it certainly felt like a therapists office.\n\nThe woman spoke first with an air that was cool and collected, like she had been in this situation a number of times previously. \"Welcome to Earth.\" \n\nNote: Primero, Thanks for reading. I edited because I don't know reddit format and it decided a single return did not merit a new paragraph. Also, this is my first time writing anything in a very long time. I have several more sections written and will keep writing until it is finished. Oh, I know the spelling, grammar sucks, I just wanted to right so I didn't do any spellcheck, editing. It somwhat change format and sorry if you don't like the initial style, I have been watching too much community so the whole voice over thing is stuck in my head :P", " I\nThree cornflakes tumbled off my spoon and harmlessly onto my lap. My heart sank. This had happened before, I was sure of it. \n\nOliver sprang up from his spot nestled under my chair and began angling his head in an effort to retrieve the fallen breakfast treasure. This too. Emma would open the bedroom door any moment and sarcastically ask whether I was aware that bath towels are machine washable and safe to throw in the laundry from time to time.\n\nEmma’s bright face popped out from behind the bedroom door. My sense of dread began to ascend like a shopping mall escalator as I processed the visual of that surprisingly familiar ratty, paling blue towel which now seemed to carefully drape Emma’s slim figure. \n\n“This towel smells horrible, honestly hun, aren’t you . . .” A lump swelled in my throat as my sweaty palms searched for the comfort of Oliver’s swirling brown hair. Except the dog was gone. I knew that too. \n\nI hated this next moment more than anything. \n\nEmma’s soft, yet humorous voice continued, “. . . aware that bath towels and laundry can co-exist from time to . . .”\n\n“Time!” boomed out from behind me. It doesn’t matter how many times I heard that voice—I lost count years ago anyhow—I knew I deserved the pain of coming back, but it hurts each time exactly as much as the first time, no more and no less.\n\n“The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.” Donald’s white lab coat swept my right arm as he walked past. Suddenly, but smoothly, the apartment faded away into the familiar sixth-floor loft beaming sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a sea of South Boston triple-deckers with Castle Island perched off in the distance. “Mr. Appleton, do you know who I am?”\n\n“Yes, Donald, of course I do, you goddamn piss ant.” I actually didn’t have anything against Donald, he was better than the rest of them. Some of them relished the look on a subject’s face when they were brought back, torn from whatever reality they had drawn…some better than others, none better than Emma . . . I suppose.\n\n“Calm down, You know the drill. You know I have to ask ‘em all.” Donald smirked and wiped the bridge of his nose. “You’re a veteran, Appleton. Some of these queers still shit their pants every time they are taken out, sometimes they’re only in for forty minutes before it…well, you know” \n\nDonald handed me a matte black computer tablet that had been resting on the workstation surrounding the somewhat uncomfortable, but stiff chair I had been sitting in for the past few hours. “Complete the survey, I’ll be back in twenty minutes and then you’re free to go. You can take the feedback sensors off, if you want”\n\n“Gee, thanks Don.” I opened the tablet case and began entering my survey answers. Like the cornflakes, the questions seemed familiar. The only difference is that, unlike breakfast, I know knew why it all felt familiar. I jotted down “University of Maine” next to the field marked “[Day -871; degree granting institution (PhD, Applied Mathematics)].” I failed Calculus II. Well, I failed Calculus II at Mashpee Consolidated High School. Back there, I had a PhD in that math stuff. \n\n II\nTwo weeks ago, Donald let me know that, factoring in my Week 11 survey score, I had achieved ninety percent consistency over eight weeks . That’s pretty impressive, I hope you know. \n\nIf your eligible, they tell you the program consists of once-a-week visits to a local center--this one is thirty minutes from Carson Beach--for forty weeks, total. But the ten-week early release is pretty well known among the subjects, particularly the ones who have been in the program a bit longer than ten weeks. \n\nMy only variances were in the first three administrations. It happens to everyone when they are first uploaded into the system. Reality needs to break before it can bend. \n\nI checked the survey answers again and looked at my watch. \n\n>“[Day -0 aka BroughtBackDate; Breakfast item, (Cereal)]** \t\tCORNFLAKES . ”\n\nSatisfied with the responses, I placed the tablet down. Donald would be back in five minutes. Free in five fucking minutes—that is, assuming my results from today and last week remained consistent with the previous eight administrations. \n\nA twenty minute survey for five years of my life. Five years with Emma. Three of them with our daughter. This was the thirteenth time I had been uploaded into that world of Emma and Portland…and happiness. Five years each time. That’s what…sixty five years? In thirteen weeks?\n\nThey don’t tell us whether the time actually passed. Federal law requires all experiment subjects be informed that, despite the perceived passage of time while uploaded, the subject does not age any longer than the actual duration of an administration---usually two to three hours, capped at four. Beyond that, we don’t know shit. It makes sense, I guess, how else are they going to figure out this twenty-first century silicon valley Frankenstein shit?\n\nAnd, after all, I knew I had deserved this. I could have taken a plea and have been out of prison in two years, but my attorney, Bill Wattson—that jackass—he promised this was a better deal. That asshole represented half of us currently in the program, including Gordy who takes a sick joy sharing Wattson’s 2021 SEC filing with every new kid, including me. I remember his toothless grin beaming at me as he pointed to a highlighted section describing Wattson’s five percent share of the company from when his Grandfather managed the old Kodak plant in Rochester back in the 1950s. They sure as hell didn’t manufacture NIUs (Neural Impulse Uploader) in upstate New York back in 1950, lemme tell you that.\n\nMaybe Wattson was right. Maybe this isn’t all bad. Instead of two years in some concrete dude house, I walked out of the courtroom and have only lost a total of thirteen Thursday afternoons, so far, and prospects looked good for thirteen being my lucky number. \n\n III\nI removed the last of the wires and peeled off the translucent tracker sticker, leaving a reddish triangle on my lower bicep. \n\nRed.\n\nThe faint smell of Emma’s perfume darted across my nostrils for about three seconds cut short by Donald opening the lab door and walking over to a stocky teenager, not older that seventeen, his curly brown hair peeking out under the NIU headset—an honest, subtle smile stamped across his pimpled face. \n\nDonald lifted his attention from one of the monitors affixed to the kid’s knee plate connection and started back over to me. “All set, hot shot?” \n\n“Have been for a few minutes, yea.” I raised my left hand and scratched my arm, which had become a bit itchy.\n\nThe arm. Red. “Wait, Donald, one second.” I picked up the laptop and scrolled down to Retentive Response #2:\n\n>“[Day -0 aka BroughtBackDate; Color of Shower Towel (Emma)] \t\tYellow Stripe .” \n\n“Time’s up.” Donald laughed, “I’m joking kid, hey, this might be the last time I see ya. Take your time.”\n\nNot amused, I swiped my finger across the screen to delete the words “Yellow Stripe” and hastily scribbled in “R E D” using the shitty tablet stylus I hoped to never use again. \n\nI felt better already. And hell, maybe my participation in these experiments (via the world’s most fair and equitable criminal justice system) would help advance the cause to “Capture our Human Moment.” Or whatever trite word salad the genius marketing executives at Kodak thought up to propel further technological basterdization of humanity. Not that it needed advertising. Nobody wants to die. Eternal existence, no matter whether we knew it or not, is the holy grail of consumer capitalism. Kodak sold four million pre-orders and wont even ship until 2027 at the earliest--later if the government continues to delay legalization of NIU or otherwise bury the industry in mandatory testing. I've gone down the rabbit hole thirteen times now. I've lived sixty-five years in the matter of a few dozen hours. I think I'm psychologically all right...I never even remember much of what happened there. Its not for me, but I wouldnt mind getting some of Wattson's stock. People want this. \n\nMaybe my Aunt Judy was on to something with her Bible, the boys at Kodak got it right this time though; “JOHN 17:3 -- And this is life eternal, that they might know America as the only true Capitalist God, and Kodak NIU Division, whom you have sent.”\n \n", "\"The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.\" The man in the coat said, having just emerged from the basement stairwell.\n\"So you guys are gonna pack up your stuff and leave my basement?\" I said inbetween bites of honeynut Cheerios. \"Yes, it shouldn't be long now.\" replied the scientist. \"Am I gonna get paid?\" I wondered, those nerds had been doing God knows what down there for a couple weeks and had always scoffed at me when I did my laundry.\n\nIt's fun living next to a research facility that doesn't have enough space.", "\"The experiment is over. Thank you for your time\"\n\n'Pardon?'\n\n\"The exp-\"\n\n'I heard that. I'm wondering what you mean.'\n\n\"Ah, sorry. For the last ten years, you have been helping the British Government and Apple by allowing us to control every aspect of your day to day. Are those scones?\"\n\n'H-help yourself. So when I lost my keys on tuesday-'\n\n\"That was our doing, yes.\"\n\n'My dog. His-'\n\n\"That was a tricky one, but yes. Oh now don't be so glum; thousands of lives are going to be saved as a result of this!\"\n\n'WHY ME THOUGH?!'\n\n\"Me! Me! Me! ...no wonder Mary divorced you last year.\"", "\"The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.\"\n\n\"Do you have to say it with such finality?\" I glanced up from my breakfast as Herald poured himself a cup of steaming black coffee. \n\n\"What do you say then?\"\n\n\"It's not what you say, it's how you say it. You sound as if you're serving a death sentence.\" \n\n\"I am. You want me to be all friendly with my subject before I kill him?\" The hint of a chortle snuck it's way into herald's last few syllables.\n\n\"You aren't killing anyone. You're just there to ensure the poison in their breakfast does it's job. So try to be amiable for their last moments.\" The speech might as well have fallen on deaf ears as the man in a lab coat walked out the door waving a hand to fan away the words of advice.\n\nIt was only 14 minutes and 38 seconds later when the alarm cacophony filled the research building and spurred a frenzy. Someone had let their research escape. \n\n\"This is precisely why it's important how you say, 'The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.'\"\n\n_________________________________________________________________\n\nThanks for everyone's responses, they inspired me to show a snippet of these antagonist's in lab coats mornings prior to all this chaos. :P", "I look down at my huevos rancheros and thought,\n\n\"I knew this was too good to be true.\"\n\nMy surroundings flicker and turn blue, then dissolve into static and nothingness. My chair is gone and my ass meets an abrupt end with cold metal floor. I am naked. The last bits of what I knew to be reality fade away and there is only black.\n\n\"Hello?\"\n\nNo answer as the sound reverberated throughout my confinement, growing less human with each pass.\n\n\"HELLO?\"\n\nI don't even recognize my own voice as it makes its way back to me.\n\nI stand and start to walk forward.\n\n\"Is it forward? Am I even moving?\"\n\nNothing.\n\nI continue, determined.\n\nNothing.\n\nI move faster, I run. The darkness is too much and I lose my footing and fall.\n\n\"Fuck it\"\n\nLaying there, against the cold metal floor, I see it for the first time. A tiny flash of red just ahead. It blinks, regularly. I move closer and the blinking gets faster. As my tempo increases so does the lights'. \n\nIt's right in front of me, it felt like I ran much further than should have been needed, but that thought is overshadowed by the bright red light in front of my. The blinking is so quick it's almost impossible to notice.\n\nI reach out toward it, grasping for anything. It's there, something hard extending from the floor to the light. Head high and square, in the middle is the light. I inch closer. The light doesn't even blink now, just red consuming all sight.\n\nThen suddenly, green.\n\nFrom elsewhere a dark figure watches his screen as a human face grows larger, illuminated red. A hand hovers over the kill switch.\n\nGreen.\n\nFlick\n\nIt watches as a metal rod plunges through the humans eye, killing him instantly, then retracts as the man falls away from the screen, the room now empty.", "I drop my spoon into a bowl of cheerios and let the milk and cheerios fill the spoon until I can see an arc of water tension at the edge of the spoon. It is the rounded metal spoon, not the oval shaped one which is in my dishwasher because I didn't feel like doing the dishes last night but instead had watched a documentary about ants on YouTube until I fell asleep on the couch which caused the crick in my neck I currently wish to rub. But I don't rub it because then the water tension keeping the milk from spilling over my round metal spoon would fail. And then the milk would spill and they have sayings about that. \n\nI bring the spoon to my lips, the sensation I love at hand, cold milk, crunchy cheerios. \n\n\"The experiment is over,\" a man in a lab coat says as he walks into my kitchen. \"Thank you for your -\" \n\nMy metal spoon has found its way to the man's mouth and I am shoving it down his throat while he gibbers and drools. There is on the table the spoonful of milk and cheerios that he had startled out of my hand, it was his fault, I take no responsibility whatsoever for the spilt milk, which they have sayings about. \n\nThe man scratches my face which is annoying because it will hurt when I shave later. He takes forever to die and so I glance over at my bowl of cheerios because pretty soon they're gonna get soggy and my damn milk won't be cold like I like it. \n\nI pull my round metal spoon out of this drooling and finally dead man but now it's covered in his filthy mucus and blood filth disgusting Jesus Christ. I throw the spoon into a corner of the kitchen and retrieve my not so round spoon from the dishwasher. Sweating now I run it under the tap and scrub scrub scrub that'll be good enough no need for soap or sponge. I plunge it into my bowl of cereal and bring a spoonful to my mouth, here it comes, thank God almighty it is still crunchy and cold. ", "\"The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.\" \n\nThe man sitting as his kitchen table let out a deep sigh, unsure if he should feel scared or relived. He turned to his portable recorder, more out of habit than out of necessity. Taking a deep breath, he began recording:\n\n\"I knew this day would come, someday. Despite the nasty side effects of the medication (really, what is that thing growing on my back?) living to be 342 is pretty nice. I mean, all my family is dead, all my friends are dead, and I haven't had sex in 150 years. Try getting an attractive 20-something to sleep with you when they recognize you as the guy from the immortality experiment that started over 300 years ago. But it hasn't been terrible! I've seen a lot! I got to witness the first colonization of Mars, the fall of the colony on Mars. I got to see the wonders of science whey they cured cancer. How could they know cancer was stemming off worse diseases? I got to see as the Berlin wall was rebuilt, and then knocked down 50 years later. I watched as China invaded Japan and Korea to form the Republic of Asia, and how the United States allowed it in the name of trade relations... On second thought, living as long as I have has been terrible! Thank God I can be done now and forget all this shit.\"\n\nThe scientist returned to the room to remove more equipment. The man looked at him and, instead of asking what he really wanted to know - how long it would take him to die - he instead asked, \"Why end the experiment now?\"\n\nThe scientist looked at him with cold eyes, and spoke much the way he would speak to a lab rat, \"All our tests conclude you are now immortal. The FDA has approved the drug for market. We don't need you anymore.\"\n\nHe turned, continuing on with his collection, either unaware or unmoved by the sobs ripping out of the man seated at the breakfast table.", "I looked at the man in a the lab coat for a moment, gleeful celebration creeping gradually into my mind.\n\n\"Oh, thank FUCKING CHRIST!\" I leapt up and shook his hand emphatically. Poured the rest of my cereal down the sink. I wouldn't need it.\n\nI ran outside, throwing my bathrobe open to the breeze. Stretched out my wings, working out the kinks and sore muscles accumulated from millions of years of hiding them under clothes and armor.\n\nSoared into the sky, saw my brothers and sisters ascending upward as those on the ground watched in awe. We summoned our weapons. Some (like my brother in the lab coat) chose flaming swords, some chose radiant lances, and others still simply pumped their fists, martial training their style of choice. As for myself my weapon was a simple bow, gleaming and crackling with electric fury.\n\nWe amassed, my brothers and sisters in arms, weapons drawn, ready for duty after such an unbelievably long time.\n\nThe Great Experiment was over. Now, the Purge could finally begin.", "Over the last year, my life has been incredibly boring. I mean, yes, I do go out and meet people. I meet all sorts of people from all over the world, but the world is no longer interesting. No books have been written, no new music has been created, all sporting events and television shows have been postponed indefinitely, and worst of all - all the delicious coffee I used to drink is now bland on my tongue. I have almost nothing to occupy my time with except making french toast, steak with eggs, or fruit tarts. I mix it up so that I don't have the same order of those three items for too many days in a row.\n\nToday marks my one year anniversary of boredom. And to combat it yet again, I whip up some french toast for breakfast. Out of nowhere some random guy walks into my kitchen and hands me a remote control with a single large button. Afterwards he says, \"The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.\" Then he leaves. No, seriously, that's it. Some random guy walks in here, hands me a remote, says some garbage about an experiment, and then leaves. At the very least, this makes my day go from blah to a fantastic adventure!\n\nAs I roll what the guy said in my head, I flip the remote over continuously in my hand and walk outside into the morning light. I wonder what it does?\n\n\"Only one way to find out,\" I say and hit the button.\n\nThe \"people\" on my street walking their \"dogs\" turn into a menagerie of creatures. Suddenly there are Fae and Weres, Vampires and Mages, Demons and a vast array of other magical creatures. A gigantic dragon even forms right before my eyes. I can see them all again! It's been a year and I can finally see them again!!!\n\nAt last, my world is back to normal.\n\n ", "I'd been alone for quite some time. I don't mean I hadn't dated anyone or gone out to the clubs. I mean I'd been utterly alone. No contact. With anyone. While most of the time I'd feel pretty sane, once in a while I'd feel like I might have a screw loose or two. Worse yet, that I was a hippie. You might be wondering what's wrong with that. Well, let me explain.\n\nFor instance, I didn't particularly care for chairs. I'd find them uncomfortable. Frankly, I never cared for them. They're unnatural. Standing. Laying. Sitting on the ground. Just keep those couches and chairs away from me. Beds are too soft and don't provide support like I've been told they should.\n\nYou're probably thinking to yourself \"plenty of people live without those amenities are are quite happy.\" I'll give you that, but try this one on; I don't like doorways. \n\nYour only logical response should be \"Uh...doorways?\"\n\nThat's right. Doorways. They always feel small. They make me feel trapped. Hell, I don' think they're even shaped right. But again, I told you I felt a bit screwy.\n\nNot enough proof for you? Fair enough. I'd been eating the Paleo diet for as long as I can remember. Much longer than it's been in vogue. Again, not that odd, right? Well, I also don't cook anything. Ever. Steak? Unwrap it and put it in me. Vegetables? Don't you dare steam, boil, grill, saute, or commit any other culinary atrocity to them. Strait out of the ground with dirt still on it. That's the way I want MY vegetables.\n\nThere are a few other things as well, like I'd rather take a bath in a stream out in nature than take a shower in a stall. Again it's those too small, weird shaped doors. Clothes felt restrictive. TV's were just noise to me. The list keeps going. Can you see why the real possibility of hippie freaks me out a bit?\n\nSo what do I do? I live in the woods away from the hustle and bustle of city life. People and their judgments. I've got my little den of a man-cave. I get to hunt, gather, fish, and in general, live the dream. Or at least my dream.\n\nSo one day, there I was, sitting in my \"kitchen\" eating my very berry breakfast. I quote \"kitchen\" because my home was one room. I liked to give the room a different name based on whatever task was at hand. Eating? Kitchen in the morning, dining room in the evening. Doing a fix it project? It's my shop. Sleeping? Depending on the time of day, it's my living room or bedroom. I digress.\n\nSo, again, there I was, sitting in my \"kitchen\" eating my oh so very berry breakfast, when in walks a man. I almost shat blue and purple! Who even knows I'm here? How did he find me? What does he want?\n\nAll I could do was stare dumbfounded at the man. He was very small, wearing a white lab coat and glasses and holding a small black audio recorder. The man was so small. Not even half my size, and I'd never found myself to be overweight. I couldn't get over how small he was.\n\n\"Hello, Bjorn. It's been a long time.\" He said, looking around my home. \"I see you've changed the place. Constructed tables, and what looks like a storage bin. Quite excellent.\" He noted his observations in his recording as \"promising.\"\n\nI was still in shock and confused, with a million questions flying through my brain, and I couldn't emit more than a grunt for a response no matter how hard I try.\n\nThe man looked at me over his glasses for a moment, then spoke into his recorder. \"Still no speech functionality. That's a shame.\"\n\nAgain, I tried to speak. More grunts, a bit of a growl. Had it been so long since I've interacted with someone I actually forgot how to talk?\n\nThe man shook his head sullenly as he put his recorder in an inner pocket in his lab coat. \"The military is only interested in the full package, which includes development of speech. While the chip implanted in your brain appears to have you acting more human, you still can't speak. I'm truly sorry. You've been a great animal. The most promising of test subjects. The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.\"\n\nI looked down at my own hands in disbelief. My big hands. Big clawed hands. Bear hands. I looked back up just as he pulled out a tranquilizer dart gun and shot me. The world went black before I hit the ground. Then I woke up here.\n\n\"Bjorn, you're full of it. You were born in captivity with the rest of us. Why do you always make up these terrible stories?\"\n\n\"What else am I going to do with my time, Barry. This zoo is so boring. They don't even give us a TV...\"", "I ain't no expert and never tried this before but Here it goes.\n--------------------\nWhat just happened? Who was that man? I thought I was getting robbed for a second. Is this a prank? Holy shit. Wait. It can't...it can't be. Eh...no. This would actually explain so much. Why I felt like I was being followed. When I heard the occasional unexplained voice. It's all starting to come back to me. When I heard fur Elise playing on my piano in the middle of the night, even though I sold it a few weeks before. Only my piano had the A key distorted, and heavily detuned, a very specific way. What the fuck is going on?! I haven't felt hair on my skin rise like this before. I'm terrified. What's going on?!\n\nThe fast food lady. She called me by my first name when my food came up. I paid wish cash. I didn't tell anyone my name. I looked startled but-maybe that wasn't why she gave me a weird vibe after. Holy shit-she was in on it. She new who I was.\n\nAnd the mailman?! \"I have a feeling you've been expecting this\" with a smug look on his face. I thought it was weird because he acted like we were old friends. It was the piano tuner I had ordered months earlier that got lost in shipping. I didn't realize until now that he was whistling fur Elise as he drove away.... seriously wtf is going on??? I didn't volunteer for an experiment!\n\nHow could I be so naive? The librarian, when I approached her to ask for a recommendation, she immediately had a look of horror on her face, but was quick to mask it with a smile and a trembling hello. She took me to a corner and dusted off an old book. Didn't say a word, pointed at the title. \"You aren't who you think you are?\" I said, confused. It was a sci-fi book. I thought she was belittling me, and I became upset. I scoffed, turned around to leave, and she held me and said, \"ceiling, her a weab, rewind\" \n\"What?\" I said, irritated\n\"It's the only way they can't hear me, you must leave now!\"\nI though \"oh whatever crazy lady\" and went home.\n\nI thought about what she said, and after all this stuff has happened. \"Ceiling, her a waeb, rewind. I thought for a bit. Holy shit. I thought about what it sounded like, being played backwards. I refuse to believe it. I'll record myself saying it and play it backwards and see what it says, just to be sure.\n\nI can't believe my ears. I've played it probably 100 times now. It says, without a doubt, \"beware, Elise.\" What the fuck?? I'm now 100% convinced some fucked up shit is going on. Is someone telling Elise to beware? Or telling me to be aware of Elise??? I don't even know an Elise! I know an Alice though? Maybe that's something? What about middle names? My psychologists middle name is Elisabeth?\n\nWhy should I beware her?\n\nEvery single hair on my body stood up. She knows every, single, thing, about me.\nIs she part of this experiment?! How could she do this to me?! I decide to, at my next appointment, without telling her completely, tell her I think something is up. That weird stuff has been happening. That I'm not sure if I'm crazy or not. \n\nShe stares at me for a few seconds, what seemed like minutes. She finally grins, and says \"you think you're human?\"\n\n\"Em....huh?\" I struggle to get out\n\n\"Do. You. Think....that you, are, a human?\" She says.\n\n\"What kind of question is that? Of course I'm human\" I say, starting to get irritated.\n\nI start to hear fur Elise again. The A key, it's...it's my piano again. But where? It wasn't even my piano. It...my grandpa gave it to me. He told me it tought him things that he never could have possibly conceived. I thought he was just talking about the Beaty of music. What is it with this piano??\n\nI hear footsteps coming towards the door, my psychiatrist, still grinning, waiting for a response. Louder, as the footsteps get closer. She shifts her attention towards the door, soon after is alarmed. Becomes angry, lookes back at me, screams \"YOU!\"\n\nThe door opens, the music stops, my psychiatrist starts seizing, with electrical zaps happening all around her.\n\nIt's the man in the lab coat. He looks around for a second, looks at me, quickly composes himself, and says, \"I tried to tell you! Beware Elise. The piano in the middle of the night, the mailman whistling, the librarian literally telling you?! Elise is a small pawn in this whole thing. It's much worse now. We must leave. I'll explain everything. But we must leave now\"\n\n", "“The experiment is over thank you for your time.”\n\nLooking up from my hash browns, my eyes met a man that was as old as time. He had face wrinkles so defined it was like reading a topographical map, hair that barely clung to the rim of his head, and a paper thin white lab coat that cloaked the rest of his body, he smiled at me and spoke again, “Yes Mr. Thompson the twenty five year experiment is finally over, you can wake up now.”\n\nI tilted my head at the man and squinted my eyes, “What did you just say? Hey, how the hell you get in my apartment?”\n\n“Mr. Thompson after reading your endorphin levels and brain functionality-“\n“Stop calling me Mr. Thompson. My name is Andrew Dominic, if a man of your age was thinking of robbing me, you are sorely mistaken.” I pushed my chair backwards and snatched my home phone, “I’m calling the police.”\nThe old man seemed to mutter something to himself before he hobbled further into the room with his cane, “There is no police Mr. Thompson, and I am sure you would remember this situation better if you just woke up.”\n“Yes? Hello? I think a man from the retirement home seemed to find his way into my house.”\n\nThe old man took a deep breath, “If you don’t want to wake up on your own, I suppose I’ll have to do it for you.” \n\nEven though I was staring at the old man the entire time he was speaking, he had vanished right after he finished speaking his last word. I dropped the phone and held on to the counter. “What is happening?” I wondered out loud. As I blinked my eyes, my surroundings abruptly changed. I was met face to face with a white tile ceiling and a pillow behind my head.\n \n“Glad to see you up Mr. Thompson, are you beginning to remember now?”\nI quickly sat up to scan the rest of the room, but as I did so I noticed my body had distinctly changed, my movements were heavier and more sluggish, my arms were bigger, tanner, and hairier. I looked up to see computer monitors surrounding the bed I was lying in and the same old man in my apartment standing beside me. “No, I don’t remember a thing, I just want to go back home.” I fought the tears welling in my eyes, I didn’t understand a thing that was going on, but I still tried to sound normal and mature, “Are you going to start explaining yourself or what?”\n\nThe old man only shook his head as he threw a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt into my lap, “I suppose when we removed most of your memory and cognitive thinking at conception we wiped away clean that you wanted to participate in this experiment. All the same, I’ll start from the beginning, put these clothes on and we’ll have a little chit-chat.”\n\nThe old man walked out of the room and I stumbled after him, my legs were even heavier and lazier than my arms, but somehow I managed to put on the pants and opened the same door the old man left.\n\nMy eyes widened when I looked outside.\n\nThe building I just came out of sat on a plateau, giving me the best view of the city down below. Buildings stretched for miles and miles. Each one had immaculate design with a roof garden on each one, the air was so much cleaner than what I was used to. Even without any nature around, the view was incredible with the twilight sky above my head. I could have sat there and admired it for hours, but unfortunately I was interrupted.\n\n“Walk with me Mr. Thompson, what you’re seeing now is what the world has become.”\n\n“I don’t understand at all sir, why are you calling me Mr. Thompson?”\n\n“Twenty five years ago you agreed to be a part of my experiment, to see what life would be like if things were different here. You see, in this world, there is no war, no poverty, no disaster, no negative thoughts even present. Your name before you went to sleep was Michael Thompson. The name that your computer generated parents gave you was Andrew Dia-? Doma-? Whatever you said back in the sim.”\n\nMy chest sunk and I began to protest but the old man continued, “I grew up in a similar fashion you did Mr. Thompson. The world was filled with violence, hated, prejudice, and sadness. When the world union was created and country borders began to vanish until we had one overseeing government, they promised us a utopia of happiness, making sure that everyone would be happy. When it reality, they were forced to be happy.”\n\n“Forced to be happy?” I said under my breath.\n\n“Please, let me finish Mr. Thompson. The fact that I am speaking the words that I am speaking means that the police will soon put chains around my legs and feet and I need to get through what I need to say as quickly as possible.” The old man sighed, “I exceeded the levels of hardship in your life than any other scenario that had existed previously. I had the animals you owned die in horrific ways, you were bullied in elementary school, your parents were always disappointed in you, your friends almost never cared for your well being especially after you broke your arm during that lacrosse game, and how you had to spent months after months struggling to find a job as a business consultant. After all of that though, we learned that your happiness was on average twice the amount that people here live. Despite living what some would consider a horrible life, you still managed to not just make the most of it, but you felt enjoyment people who live here never will.”\n\nTears streamed down my face and in between a few hoarse breaths I managed to speak, “I am so overwhelmed and confused, I don’t understand what is going on at all.”\n\n“That’s not important Mr. Thompson. There is only one thing that you need to know and that is you have freedom, and no government or simulated life can take that away from you. I found you when you were ten years old, you know that? You were going to be taken away because you spoke up in your fifth grade classroom talking about how you sometimes want to feel sad or angry. I wanted to show you that time and place where it was possible to do that. I wanted to be proven wrong, the time where your endorphins would level out to around the same as an average boy I would stop the tests, but after twenty five years I realized that wouldn’t ever happen. Just remember the life you had lived the last twenty five years can be the same you live now, you can feel what you want to feel, you can be who you want to be.”\n\nThe old man’s speech was cut off by a black van that drove right up to us. A few men wearing uniforms stepped out and grabbed the old man and began taking him to the back of the van. The old man, clearly hurting from the stranger’s rough treatment manage to speak one final time to me, “You choose how you live your life Michael. Do not forget that.”\n", "\nNot wanting to stand out in any way, Bob decide that this morning he would eat a bowl of the cereal that was on display the day before at the super market. It was a mad rush, everyone seemed to want it, and Bob didn't want to be left out. \"It doesn't look that appealing,\" Bob thought to himself as he reached for a carton of whole milk. \"But everyone wanted it. Best to have some, I think.\"\n\nBob was ever afraid of being the center of attention. His whole life up to this very point was all about coasting by while trying to seem like he belonged. He picked up his spoon, which had several spots on it (including one over the engraved \"Stainless Steel\" markings on the neck of it), and saw in it his own unremarkable reflection. Shaggy brown hair, groggy eyes, splotches on his skin, and an irregularly elongated face. For a moment he thought perhaps he always looked this way, but remembered after a bit of reflection that if he had in fact always looked this way, someone would have pointed it out and he would have remembered that.\n\nHe lowered his spoon into the cereal, expecting to hear that subtle soggy crunching and bubbling sound that one hears when not really paying attention to much of anything while eating cereal. He heard instead an odd voice coming from somewhere inside his kitchen. \"Stop, stop.\" It said dryly. \"The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.\"\n\nNot wanting to seem out of place, Bob left his spoon in his cereal, stood up, and stepped back. A strange man in a white lab coat stepped forward and started collecting Bob's cereal. Bob was put off a bit. Did he do something wrong? Why is it over? Was someone studying me? Why would anyone do that?\n\nA flurry of questions whipped about in Bob's mind, but he couldn't quite pinpoint any particular one to ask. Mostly, he just didn't want to be a bother to anyone. \"Should I just stand here? Or...\" Bob asked the man in the lab coat meekly, noticing the clipboard underneath the man's arm as he walked Bob's breakfast to his kitchen sink.\n\n\"No, no.\" The man said in quite the same way as he had told Bob to stop earlier. \"Just wait there. Someone will be in momentarily.\"\n\n\"Oh. I'm sorry. Um. Should I perhaps clean up a bit? I wasn't expecting-\" Bob motioned towards himself, trying to suggest to the man without being rude that perhaps now was not the best time for company. Bob had not yet had the time to shower, brush his teeth, or otherwise compose himself.\n\n\"You could clean up a bit.\" The man said plainly.\n\nAs the man with the lab coat was not paying much attention to Bob, and certainly was not looking at him when he suggested that Bob could clean up a bit, Bob was not sure if the man wanted him to clean himself up or help clean the kitchen.\n\n\"Oh. Right, then. Sorry.\" Bob replied, still unsure of what to do.\n\nThe man in the lab coat stopped cleaning out Bob's cereal bowl abruptly. He hadn't finished, Bob noticed. If he left the spoon in the bowl like that it would certainly rust. It might even leave a stain on the bowl. Bob thought better of speaking up about it, though. \"The man is wearing a lab coat, surely he knows better than I do.\" Bob thought to himself.\n\n\"Yes, quite.\" The man replied.\n\nBob was surprised. Had he spoken aloud? At least what he had said wasn't insulting. That could have been awkward. Bob then wondered what sorts of insults he could conjure up, but none came immediately to mind.\n\nThe man spun on his heels, turning to face Bob. \"Thank you for your time.\" He said again.\n\n\"You're welcome.\" Bob assured him. Still a bit befuddled at the presence of the man in his kitchen, Bob thought it right to ask what he thought should probably be his last question for fear of upsetting him. \"Should I go?\"\n\n\"No, no.\" The man said in his now familiar way. Bob noticed, however, that the man did not include any indication of what Bob should do at this point. He only walked out of Bob's kitchen, into Bob's den, and turned on Bob's television.\n\nBob stayed put. He wasn't instructed to do so, but he was so filled with terror at the thought of doing something that he shouldn't. He thought it best to just wait until someone came for him.\n\nHe stood for the better part of an hour and a half, only now realizing in his slow process of waking up that he was still wearing his bathrobes. Bob decided it would be best at this point to speak to the man in the lab coat about his presence in his home, and how perhaps now isn't the best time for Bob to entertain guests. He hadn't even eaten, come to think of it, and was growing hungrier by the second.\n\nBob took a step, but then realized something. What if Bob is the guest? The man seems to feel very much at home, which is not a feeling that Bob was familiar with in any place at all. \"Perhaps I do not belong here,\" Bob thought. \"Perhaps I should go.\" He recalled how the man had told him not to go. \"Someone would be in momentarily,\" he recalled. \"Perhaps I should stay.\"\n\n\"Why yes, welcome!\" The man shouted from the den.\n\nWas he talking to his television? Perhaps he was. Best leave him alone.\n\n\"Be seeing you, then!\" The man shouted with barely a moment passing between statements.\n\nBob decided not to speak up at that point. It could be that the man was just telling Bob that he should go, so Bob did just that. He stepped outside wearing nothing but his bath robes and slippers. Some of his neighbors passed by, not paying him much mind. They never did, though. Bob liked that.\n\nIt was a bit cold out. Bob wondered what odd turn of events might have brought him out onto his own doorstep while wearing nothing but his bathrobes and slippers. He decided it would be best to go inside and eat breakfast.\n\nBob stepped back inside, sat down at his kitchen table where a bowl of cereal had been waiting for him, and began to eat.\n\nUpon the first bite, he promptly spat his new cereal out all over his table. \"What an awful taste!\" He shouted aloud to himself.\n\nQuite suddenly he heard a voice shout from somewhere in the room, \"Why yes, welcome!\" but there was no one in sight who might have shouted it.\n\nBob wondered for a moment, and decided to ignore the voice. Better that nobody pay any attention to him. Whoever it was, maybe they will leave him alone.\n\nWhoever it was, they must have left Bob alone. With his table covered in cereal and milk, and his bathrobes now sliding off one of his shoulders, Bob was suddenly acutely aware that he was very alone and very sad. \"Why am I sad?\" Bob wondered, but the feelings did not relent. \"Would someone please take this away?\" Bob asked aloud while staring groggily at the puddle of cereal and milk on his table, but was uncertain of what exactly he wanted to have taken away. He rubbed the back of his head, feeling only the baldness of his scalp and a few stray grey hairs that hadn't wanted to give up on him, for whatever reason.\n\n\"Would someone please take this away?\" He said again, this time a bit softer and far less certain.", "I could still hear the grease sizzling on my crispy, protein packed ripples of mouth watering breakfast bliss. \n\nBacon, of course. Snugged comfortably in between two farm-fresh scrambled eggs and a flat of golden hash browns the size of my palm.\n\nI surveyed the feast and the jowls of my cheeks slowly filled with saliva. \n\nA man like me doesn't get too many home cooked meals. Not that there's much to be gained from going through the effort, as most men in my dangerous profession would eat them alone, anyhow.\n\nI stabbed a chunk of egg, hash brown, and bacon, stacking them on my fork in neat order. A grease droplet oozed from the savory breakfast kabab. \n\nI opened my mouth and the front door flew open, a man in a lab coat stepped inside. \n\n\"The experiment is over-\"\n\nEverything froze.\n\nI felt the hair on the back of my neck stand and my arms flushed with goosebumps. \n\nMy pulse increased and I became aware of the adrenaline releasing into my bloodstream as my body prepared for it's expertly trained fight-or-flight response. \n\nThe man was a little over six feet tall with a white mustache. He was balding except for a silver horseshoe of hair that wrapped around his enormous head like a scarf. \n\nHe was large, but not fat. His left hand clutched a clipboard, but his right hand was in his pocket. \n\nIt was gripping something. \n\nWhat was it?\n\nTall. \n\nBig. But not fat. \n\nHe was not athletic and definitely not fast.\n\nIf he was a threat, he wouldn't attack with his bare hands. Which means in his pocket there is a weapon.\n\nHandgun.\n\nI only had, at most, two seconds to react.\n\nI blinked in slow motion. \n\nAn image flashed on the inside of my eyelids, like a movie: I was chained to a chair. I was being pummeled by some kind of rubber rope-thing. I screamed in agony, but all I heard was laughter. \n\nIs this some kind of repressed memory?\n\n\"John, this is going to be so funny!\" a distant voice cried.\n\n\"Shh, he's inside\" came a whispered response. \n\nMore details came: It wasn't a chain or a rope. It was a thick strand of sausage links. I was being whipped. Repeatedly. Tortured, but why? \n\nAnd then his face came into view. It was the same man, the man in the lab coat.\n\nHe's here to kill me this time.\n\nMy eyes opened.\n\n\"-thank you for your time.\" the man finished.\n\nThe fork reflected the ceiling light like a yellow flame as it left my hand. It tumbled like a ballerina through the air, bits of my breakfast whirling off into the room, each new turn a precise and calculated dance with gravity and physics. \n\n\"Ughck!!!\" cried the man as he collapsed to the ground, the fork clanking on the floor.\n\nDirect hit.\n\n\"Code 206!\" the man yelled.\n\nI stood up. How is he still alive?!\n\nSuddenly, the apartment walls erupted in laughter. \n\nA man spoke through what sounded like an intercom, \"Carl, this is John,\" the man started but stopped again as a chuckle caught in his throat. I could hear other people laughing too.\n\n\"It was just a joke,\" he caught his breath. \"We programmed some memories in him before you entered. Doug had this great idea about you torturing the subject with breakfast foods. We knew he would do something like that when you walked in. Have you met Doug?\"\n\n\"You bast- John, he could have killed me!\" The scientist said. \"These subjects are trained-\"\n\n\"No, the apartment was swept for weapons. You were fine. Besides, why else do you guys wear those vests?\"\n\nI could still hear John smiling through the intercom. \n\nHow are they doing this? I surveyed the walls. They were normal, but they weren't! They were emitting sound, but how?\n\n\"I knew we never should have contracted the Ops Centers out,\" Carl sighed. \"This subject is ruined now. He'll have to be deleted. That's a few hundred grand down the drain. You can kiss your job goodbye.\"\n\nThe intercom buzzed and screeched loudly. The laughter stopped.\n\nThen I saw it. A small glint about the size of a pinhole in the ceiling. A surveillance camera. I was being watched, studied even. But why?\n\n\"Carl, this is Pete, John's supervisor,\" a new voice said.\" I overheard the commotion on the Ops floor as I was walking by. John and I are going to have a serious talk about his career after this is resolved. I'm terribly sorry about this, and quite frankly, a little embarrassed. Regardless, do you want us to send the termination commands so we can get to cleaning this mess up?\"\n\nCarl looked at me and closed his eyes, \"Yes.\"\n\n\"But why?\" I asked.\n\n\"Sorry,\" he whispered.\n\nI could hear someone typing on a keyboard, followed by the hard tap of the return key. Everything went black.", "######[](#dropcap)\n\n\"Oh! Well, thank you.\" I pause. \"I'm sorry, what?\"\n\n\"I said, the experiment is over-\"\n\n\"What experiment?\"\n\nHe looked as shocked as I felt. It was funny though, I felt almost too calm speaking to him. I should have been freaking out, or calling the police, or something. Why wasn't I freaking out?\n\nHe didn't answer for what felt like a long time. I shrugged and turn back to my cereal.\n\n\"You need to come with me.\"\n\n\"How come?\"\n\nWhy wasn't I freaking out? He certainly was. Maybe not as intensely as I wanted to myself, but he was definitely starting to sweat under the collar. I stared at him. He was an Indian man, wearing glasses and a lab coat and holding a grey clipboard. Just a stereotypical scientist. He shouldn't have been in my apartment.\n\n\"What's your name?\"\n\n\"John Vandice.\" I really shouldn't have told him that.\n\n\"How long have you lived here?\"\n\n\"About... two years now, I guess? Why do you ask?\"\n\nHe didn't answer me. He flipped through the papers on his clipboard. He seemed very focused, and somehow it gave me a strange sense of déjà vu. I shook it off.\n\n\"How did you get into my apartment?\" Why did it take me so long to ask that?\n\nHe jumped. \"What did you say?\"\n\n\"I asked how you got into my apartment. The door should have been locked.\" I feel panic rise in my chest. For a moment, I want to squash it down, but I remind myself that I'm supposed to be panicking. Nothing is right about this situation. He shouldn't be here.\n\n\"I really should be calling the police,\" I muttered, more to myself than to him.\n\nThis agitated him, I think. \"Okay, John. John? You need to come with me. Right now.\"\n\n\"I'm not coming with you. You shouldn't be in here. How did you get in here?\" I started hyperventilating. \"I'm calling the police!\"\n\n\"Subject 110! Override Command 240 Dash C!\"\n\nOh.\n\nI stand perfectly still. The lab technician runs his hand through his hair, recovering from his shock. He sets his clipboard down on the counter, turns to a fresh page, and starts writing. \n\nThe panic is gone. Why had I been panicking before?\n\n\"Okay. Let's try this again. I need you to come with me.\"\n\n\"But I haven't had breakfast yet.\"\n\nHe slaps his forehead. \"We'll get you something else! This is important.\"\n\n\"Of course. Just let me grab my phone,\" I say cheerfully.\n\n\"No, now!\"\n\nThat's odd. I could've sworn I charged it last night...\n\nHe grabs me by the arm and pulls me out of the room. Outside my door are white metal doors set in concrete walls, instead of the wooden doors and beige walls of my apartment building. The doors all have the words \"Pandora Research Laboratories\" stenciled on them in black ink. This time I resist the urge to get worked up. It's probably nothing.\n**\nIt has been five hours since the lab technician plugged me into this machine. I am locked into the capsule and I can only move my head, which is covered by a helmet that pokes into my skull. My brain is fuzzy, but I feel fine.\n\nA woman has just walked into the room. \"Devadas!\"\n\n\"Oh! Rachel, hi. You need to see this.\"\n\n\"Devadas, what are you doing with the subject?\"\n\n\"Sequencing.\"\n\n\"Sequencing? Have you forgotten how long that takes?\"\n\n\"I'm already half done.\"\n\n\"Devadas, this project was cancelled. You were supposed to clear out all the clones by 1700 hours. How much actual work have you gotten done today?\"\n\n\"Define actual.\"\n\n\"Devadas, you'll be lucky if they don't fire you for this.\" She walks over to a computer console.\n\n\"Rachel, don't unplug him! Wait!\"\n\nShe starts tapping on a keyboard, but then her eyes are drawn toward something on another monitor. I hear beeping.\n\n\"Devadas,\" she asks shakily, \"are these numbers correct?\"\n\nHe looks at the monitor too, then he claps his hands and pumps his fist. \"Ninety-four percent! That's even better than I thought!\"\n\n\"Devadas, you need to explain this to me.\"\n\n\"Well, I still don't know how it happened.\" He's pacing now, his arms waving in the air. \"I walked in to get him decommissioned, and he didn't recognize me. He thought the simulation environment was his apartment!\"\n\n\"You're joking.\"\n\n\"Check the surveillance if you don't believe me.\"\n\n\"I believe you, it's just...\" She hasn't torn her eyes away from the monitor. \"Ninety-four percent... Do you know what this means?\"\n\n\"The experiment isn't over, Rachel.\" Devadas beams. \"A new grant, maybe more than one. And patents! Nobel Prizes, even!\"\n\n\"Oh, you beautiful angel!\" she shrieks, and she kisses Devadas right on the lips. He didn't expect that; he blushes and leans back against the desk with the monitors. \"How long until the genetic sequencing is done?\"\n\n\"Another three hours. Maybe four.\"\n\n\"Nevermind, the memory sequencing is enough. Send me a copy, ASAP! I need to make some phone calls.\" She skips out of the room. Devadas does nothing for a moment, he just keeps brushing his hair around with his hands like he did when he was nervous. He has the goofiest looking smile on his face.\n\nI clear my throat. \"Um, excuse me.\"\n\nDevadas shakes the fog out of his head and turns to me. He's still grinning. \"Yes?\"\n\n\"I'm not sure what's going on.\"\n\nHe stares blankly for a moment. Then something clicks. \"Oh! No, of course not.\"\n\n\"Do you mind explaining?\"\n\nDevadas stands up and walks over to me. He puts his hands on my shoulders, or at least, where my shoulders would be if I weren't in the capsule. \n\n\"John,\" he says, very seriously, \"You are the first cloned human ever to retain more than fifty percent of their original memories.\"\n\n\"Ninety-four percent.\"\n\n\"Exactly!\" He grins again. \"You are the most important technological advancement in human history. Like, ever.\"\n\n\"Wow. That's a real honor.\"\n\n\"You bet it is.\" He turns back to the computers. \"We have a lot of work to do, buddy.\"\n\n\"I look forward to it,\" I replied. \n\nWhy am I not freaking out?", "\"Give her 5 minutes before you go up\" he says as he walks out through the front door, \"You may not recognise her from the woman she was when you awoke this morning\".\n\nI break down in tears, it's been 21 years and i had never been so close to anyone in my life, but somehow we'd become one over those years, a unit that tackled the world together.\n\nShe never cared for my physical appearance, her love was on a plane much greater than just physical attraction.\n\nYes, I'm much more shallow than her however, how she looked was everything to me. In fact i'm far more judgmental on the most mundane of things, how my food looks, the colour of my shirts for example.\n\nAs a kid i liked all my possessions close and locked away from others. On reflection i had carried this obsession on into adult life and spread it to the people i loved the most. Or, rather, the person i love the most.\n\nI wouldn't want to lose her.\n\nShe calls from upstairs, a tired shout. I have never felt so anxious in my life, i walk towards the stairs and begin to make my way to her.\n\nAs i reach the top, i look across at the silhouette of my wife.\n\nShe is standing in front of the bedroom window with her back to me. By the side of her i see the darkened glasses she's worn since the day i met her, tossed aside.\n\n\"It's all so bright... \" She whispers, \"I never realised how many colours existed in the world\".\n\nShe turns, my heart sinks with realisation as she looks at me.\n\nIt's the first time she's been able to see the world around her.\n\nYet instead of happiness, all i can feel is fear.\n\n....Will she still love me?", "It would have to be a Thursday. Amanda always felt off on Thursdays.\n\nIt was a Thursday morning when the man in the lab coat had walked into her kitchen, holding a clipboard and looking very young. Amanda thought that he looked a little like Clint Eastwood from Revenge of the Creature. It was a sight no one should have to deal with with a mouth full of Eggo. \n\n\"Morning,\" the man in the lab coat said in a bored kind of way. He did not look up from his clipboard. \"I've been sent to tell you that the experiment is over. Thank you and have a nice day.\"\n\nThe man with the lab coat turned to leave and Amanda scrambled up from the table. \n\n\"Mmwaif!\" she cried through a mouth of toaster waffles. \"Whaf do you meanf effperimenf?\"\n\n\"Well, ma'am,\" the man calmly explained. \"This whole...planet thing was just our experiment. And now it's over. Thank you.\"\n\nHe turned to leave again and Amanda tried to grab his arm. She was mildly shocked when her hand passed through and the entire figure of the man rippled like jello. \n\n\"This is just a hologram, miss,\" said the man coolly. \"Generated to a figure you would find most while still remaining authoritative. The 'scientist' look usually works. In the past we've had to load up various 'messiah' models though.\"\n\n\"Wait, wait, wait,\" said Amanda, having swallowed her food and trying to slow this whole damn thing down. \"This planet was an experiment?\"\n\n\"Correct, miss. The entire solar system, in fact.\"\n\n\"Who's in charge of all this?\"\n\n\"That doesn't matter now. Even if I told you, would it even mean anything to you?\"\n\n\"Well, kind of! It's my planet!\"\n\n\"Very well. We are the Klaarglackians.\"\n\n\"The what?\"\n\n\"Told you.\"\n\nAmanda took a seat in her living room. \"This is pretty heavy, man,\" she said to the hologram who looked vaguely like a young Clint Eastwood. \"What will happen to us?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" the hologram said. \"We'll simply leave the planet to keep falling through the endless void of space. You're on your own now.\"\n\n\"I thought we always were on our own,\" said Amanda.\n\n\"Then this will be an easy transition for you.\"\n\n\"So hey...what were the results of the experiment?\"\n\nThe hologram glanced down at his clipboard which Amanda realized was only for her benefit, considering he was a programmed hologram and not a real scientist from a 1950's horror movie. \"Inconclusive,\" the hologram concluded.\n\n\"That it, huh,\" said Amanda, not entirely surprised. \"4.6 billion years and nothing to show for it.\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't know,\" said the hologram. \"The mountains were very pretty. And evolution went a lot better than we expected.\"\n\nThey sat there a while in silence. \n\n\"I really need to get going,\" said the hologram finally. \"Good luck.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" said Amanda. \"You too.\"\n\nThe image of the scientist wavered like a hot road and vanished. Amanda sat cross-legged on her floor, wondering what had changed. ", "\"The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.\"\n\nI look up my bagel halfway to my open mouth and blink.\n\n\"Fred?\" I ask, recognizing my neighbor.\n\n\"The experiment is over. The human-pumpkin mutation worked but produced no significant advancement for pumpkin-kind\" Fred says. I put down my bagel and blink confused. He works as a chemist in a Lab downtown, so what the hell is he doing in my kitchen? How did he even get in?\n\n\"What?\" I stare at Fred. He walks over to me and snatches up my bagel.\n\n\"This is not for you! The children will need it first!\" He snaps and waves a finger at me.\n\n\"Fred...\" I say gently. I think I know what's going on here.\n\n\"We have to get the experiment swept under the rug. Obama will be here any minute now, and he can't know about it. Canada would nuke us if they knew!\" Fred say as he starts breaking the bagel into pieces and hiding it under the tablecloth.\n\n\"You're sleepwalking.\" I say to him. Only a week before Holly, his wife, had found him wandering around the street shouting at cars to stop torturing the cats.\n\n\"Nonsense!\" Fred exclaims. \"Don't you think I would know if I was awake or not?!\" The irony of his words makes me smile. It almost seems like he was* awake. \n\n\"Come here.\" I tell him and try to grab him by the arm.\n\n\"Don't touch me heathen! Pumpkins have no rights here! You're a fruit!\" He insists then he hesitates and smiles broadly. \"And you know what... I bought you 50% off because you were old and no one wanted you!\" He adds triumphantly.\n\n\"Whatever you say. Obama is waiting for you. We have to hurry or you'll miss him.\" I tell him.\n\n\"Oh! We must not let Canada wait!\" Fred exclaims and I'm allowed to pull him along. Halfway to his house he decides it was enough and lays down on the lawn under one of their rose-bushes. I sigh and shake my head, leaving him there while I go to get Holly.\n\n\"Yes?\" She asks as she opens the door. Her eyes are tired and her red hair stands on end.\n\n\"I found your husband in my kitchen. He was sleepwalking and is now napping under your rose-bushes.\" I tell her. Holly looks towards the bushes and sighs, rubbing her face.\n\n\"Not again. I'm sorry, he's had a tough month at work... I'll try tying him up next time.\" She say wearily and look towards the bushes.\n\n\"Have a good morning.\" I tell her and back away.\n\n\"Sure, sure... Thank you.\" She adds sleepily.\n\nI stroll back to my house. I finish my coffee and get in the car. What an unusual morning. I think and chuckle to myself as I go about my day. I wonder what he was dreaming...", "TRIAL 15: DIMF Assessment\n\nEvery morning before bridge club, he read the obituaries, and sometimes he saw a name he recognized.\n\n\"Who is she?\" His wife didn't look up from the pillbox she was organizing for the week.\n\nHe chewed his toast and rolled his tongue around the question he wanted to ask. How do you know...? But she always knew, so instead: \"Barbara Whitaker.\"\n\n\"Golf buddy?\"\n\n\"Sgt. Barbara Whitaker.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\nHe always talked about it, but he'd never say. Grandkids loved to hear stories about the good fight and all the good men and their terrible ends. Every Christmas he remember to go on about working for the Captain and spying on submarine sabotagers in their own crew. Good men who wanted to break a few pipes, head back to base, and find a terrible end somewhere closer to home.\n\nBut he never gave details. Details were too real for him. That's why she never made him watch movies anymore—the right sort of smile on the screen would leave him sobbing and screaming for hours.\n\n\"Tell me about her. Was she important?\"\n\n\"They're all important.\"\n\n\"You've never mentioned her before.\" She peeled his gaze away from the paper and reached for a glass of orange juice. \"So she must have been important.\" A soft sip, hard swallow. \"Very important.\"\n\nFor a long while he used his spoon to sail the last Cheerios through an ocean of milk.\n\n\"There are some things I don't tell you. Lots of things, maybe. But there are some things I've done, and... it's like they happened to other people. I'm not the same guy who knew Barb.\" What color had her eyes been? Brown? \"You know there were other women, other lives, overseas.\"\n\n\"I thought I knew about all the other lives.\"\n\nBut she didn't. There were some lives he even tried to keep from himself. After so many years of trying to make things better, the old same feelings were coming back. He forced himself to face her. Had her eyes always been so blue? He folded up the newspaper slowly enough to arrange his thoughts. So many things he wanted to say about Sgt. Whitaker, but he knew he could never tell her what had really happened between them.\n\nFrom blue eyes to an empty face—a man in a stark white lab coat stepped through the fridge and stared right through him. The man with no face gradually grew features beyond lidless eyes and lipless teeth. When there was a jaw, he mouthed the same thing over and over.\n\n\"The experiment is over,\" said the man. \"Thank you for your time.\"\n\nWhen he had a full face, it was flat, two-dimensional, as if this intrusion had been copied and pasted onto the surface of nothing.\n\n\"Please collect your free meal coupon, valid at all participating stores in DIMF-compliant bases.\"\n\nAnd then the whole world—the breakfast table and his wife and his neatly folded newspaper and his half-eaten toast—simply wasn't.\n\nSTAGE ONE: Experiment Failed\n\n\"It... it worked!\"\n\nHe woke up with his arms and legs and forehead strapped to a slab. Bright bulbs shining above weighed down his eyes, and he strained to look away. He could almost make out lab coats fluttering around him.\n\n\"I can't believe it,\" said the bottom half of a lab coat. \"It actually worked!\"\n\n\"He's dropping back into the field,\" said a slightly slimmer bottom half of another lab coat.\n\nIn front of the bulbs there danced a woman, and he knew her. She had a name once. Fortunately she didn't know that he couldn't remember it, or else she'd have slapped him. His wife came into focus, and she was floating upright against a roaring sun that almost looked like bulbs in a doctor's surgery, but that wasn't right, because he was here with her and nowhere else. It was her, definitely, but even though she was in focus now and in higher definition than any screen he'd ever seen, he couldn't tell the details. She had a face, but he couldn't make any sense of it. Her eyes were the color of disappointment, and her lips were a shade away from passion, and her voice was almost like that of Sgt. Barbara Whitaker, who—\n\nHe blinked back into the world. Everything felt more solid in the seconds that passed, and the dream faded. There was only one lab coat in the room, and it wore a man with a three-dimensional face.\n\n\"Your pupils are back in shape,\" said the man. \"I'm sorry you had such a rude awakening, but we couldn't ease you out of it like we normally can. Now, this was nothing like VR, you see. Hell of a lot more immersive.\"\n\nA hand wrapped around his, not to comfort, but only to search for the pulse in his wrist.\n\n\"Drink lots of fluids for the next couple hours, and keep an eye out for any detached retinas or memory loss or soft fingernails, but aside from that—\"\n\n\"Where are my teeth?\" No, that wasn't what he meant to say. The brain hadn't properly connected back to the mouth yet. \"What happened? Where is she?\"\n\n\"Who, the other test subject? Oh, don't worry about her. The test worked great over there, and we'll get the report in just a few.\"\n\n\"What... other test subject? Where is my wife?\" But he knew the answer.\n\n\"Well, shit. There's that memory loss. How are your fingernails?\" A pen scratched across a clipboard and then clicked shut, and the man pressed a button to raise his slab to a sitting position. \"They'll cover everything in detail once debrief's ready for you, but... This is a lab, you're a soldier, and we're doing some neat experiments to screw with your brain. Ever heard of mind-field tech? It's like that old movie from back in the twenty-tens where two people drive a big robot.\"\n\nA blank stare.\n\n\"Never mind. Look, on the other side of the world, we've got another base with another super-secret government lab where another test subject was linked up with the same mind-field tech as I've got right here.\"\n\nHe gestured to a small tray, portable enough for a dentist's office. On it, there was a squat cylinder the size of his thumb, and out from it, there was a needle the size of his worryingly soft fingernails.\n\n\"That goes in the base of your skull. We hook you up to a special intranet, and zippity-do-dah, a whole virtual world with a lived-in history and emotional stakes. Spend a few decades of in-world time there, and you're essentially connected with the other subject in ways that could previously only be expressed through a Disney musical.\"\n\n\"But why... why would you want this?\" He tasted blood with just a hint of buttered toast. \"It was real.\"\n\n\"Well, close enough, anyway.\"\n\n\"All those years. They really happened? 'In-world?'\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, but think of the military applications! Digital Interrogation of Mind Fields is cutting-edge stuff, man. We can interrogate any enemy combatant by just, like—BAM, drop him into a little paradise, take a DIMF sergeant and link him in as, like, the guy's long-lost son. Whatever works. Maybe one day we can link up a whole platoon of DIMF subjects and get them together to work on the sort of complex strategies that can't be automated. We can win the war. Any war. All it takes is hearts and minds.\"\n\nThe ringing was getting louder. All he could think of was the passing of the years. Every moment spent with a wife whose face he couldn't quite remember.\n\nOn the far side of the room, a fax machine whirred into life, spitting out page after page of a SECRET watermarked file.\n\n\"Ah, that'll be the report,\" said the man. He leaned against the counter and flipped through the pages. \"Ooh, nice neuron toxicity count. Not really fair, though. DefSec gives all the good stuff to the Pacific front.\"\n\n\"What was her name?\"\n\nThe grinning idiot stopped, closed the file. \"Patient confidentiality. Why? Do you think you remember her?\"\n\n\"I can just make out... a face... in my mind.\"\n\n\"You shouldn't.\"\n\n\"I want to know who she is. I still—\" Like drowning in a bowl of milk. \"—love her. Somehow.\"\n\nThe man sighed and rolled his eyes—not at his subject, but at himself.\n\n\"All right, you can't tell anyone, and I mean anyone. Not even debrief.\"\n\nThe man opened the file again and pulled out a picture, gently handing it over.\n\nYears could have passed, and he wouldn't have known the difference.\n\n\"That's not my wife.\"\n\n\"Of course not. That's Subject 15.\"\n\n\"No, but I mean,\" he said, \"I mean that's... that's Sgt. Barbara Whitaker.\"\n\n\"Private Whitaker. Well, at the time, anyway. But close enough.\"\n\nThe man in the lab coat grinned, and his face flattened to two dimensions. Lab coats blew in through the walls like cherry blossoms, and the slab fell in through the floor, but he was still strapped to it, and he fell into the dark for what must have been centuries.\n\nSTAGE TWO: Positive Identification\n\nHe'd always thought Pvt. Barbara Whitaker was feisty, a girl who could hold her own, but her testimony was really something else. The quiver in her voice, the way she stumbled through her prepared statement, the way she and her lawyer played the jury with tears and stolen memories.\n\nWorst of all, the court smelled like burnt toast and the orange juice he spilled at the bus station where he'd first met her, off-duty of course. Maintaining that he hadn't ever heard of Pvt. Barbara Whitaker, now Sergeant Whitaker, had proven to be sound advice from his legal team. But now the case had gone to prosecution. At first he'd failed the mandatory digital interrogation, but eventually it got results. Only took 15 trials to get it right.\n\nOnly, he knew it wasn't quite right. They could call it rape all they wanted, but it was love. Or something close to it. Somehow. He knew the jury would understand. After all, he'd changed in there. Really, truly changed after all those years with his wife. He still searched for her, deep inside himself. He wanted to know that he was still as good a man as she'd seen in him. If only there were more women like her and less like that two-dimensional bitch on the stand.\n\nThe jury returned.\n\n\"The trial is over,\" said the judge. \"Thank you for your time.\"\n\nTRIAL 15: Experiment Successful\n\nVERDICT: Guilty\n\nRECOMMENDATION: Continuation of DIMF program", "The smell. It was perfect. The applewood smoked bacon had been sizzled to a crisp that would snap with more resounding satisfaction than a wishbone. Two slices, parallel on the plate to an exact degree. The eggs were nestled artistically next to the bacon, sunny side up but without the slightest hint of a char. Even the yokes achieved a sinless balance between runny and thick, and not even a bubble was visible on their opaque surface. The toast? Ohh...the toast. \nArtisanally flakey in crust, tiny trapezoids rising up from the heat like tiles of sand on a desertified plain. Those two slices of marble rye, really one slice cut diagonally, one half casually situated upon the other with one square of pale golden butter on top; just enough butter for both slices, just melty enough to spread firm but not so melty to suggest the toast had gone cold. The plate was simple. The plate was perfect. \nHe inhaled deeply through his nose and many feelings washed over him. With closed eyes, his lips widened but rose very little. \"Yes,\" he said out loud, \"Yes. Yes.\" His hands deftly found the fork and knife at each side of the plate, and as each rose he opened his eyes. A man was standing beside him, wearing a lab coat and bearing a palpable sense of satisfaction. \n\"The experiment is over,\" the man said, \"Thank you for your time.\" \nHe felt like he was waking up from a dream. He glanced down at the plate and around the suddenly unfamiliar room. He glanced back down at the plate. \n\"Can I eat now?\" This question caused the man in the lab coat a look of genuine mirth. The man reached to put a hand on his shoulder and stopped himself, took in a breath and said. \"You can but...think about it. You don't want to.\" \nThe man was right, he knew. Nothing about the breakfast in front of him could be nearly as good as the feeling he had looking at it, a feeling he was struggling to retain even as he felt it slipping away. He gently put the fork and knife down where they had been, nodded and stood up. \"Well...that was a good breakfast.\" \nHe didn't dare look at it again.", "The man was electric blue. This was not a natural colour for a person, and he knew it perfectly well - but he was also interrupting my breakfast, and I considered that a far worse crime. Being blue he could not help, but being annoying...well.\n\n“What do you want?” I said.\n\n“The experiment is over,” he replied. “Thank you for your time.”\n\nMy first reaction was to stand up, my fists clenched. Surprised, the blue man flinched.\n\n“Whoa, there,” I said. “I’m not going to hit you just yet. What experiment did I join?”\n\n“You don’t know about the game?” he said. “Surely you must, with your newfangled technology and your computers-”\n\n“Tell me now,” I growled, “or else I will deck you. Show me what you mean.”\n\nThe blue man walked over to my computer, where a half-done game of Chaos lay unplayed. “You are a mathematician by trade, yes?”\n\n“And a boxer by preference, yeah,” I replied. “If this is some sort of practical joke-”\n\nMy computer booped, indicating that it had finished some calculations. The three-body problem had been formidable enough, but here I had also combined it with the double pendulum. Both were problems with chaotic solutions - even the smallest error in the initial data would spiral out of control. Asking the computer to calculate it was like doing heroin and cocaine at once - bad for you, but man did it ever feel good.\n\n“Did you really-” the blue man started, but I cut him off.\n\n“I ask the questions around here, not you.” I said. “All you do is tell me the answers as best you know. Firstly: what experiment is this?”\n\nThe blue man said, “We gave you this game several months ago. You were supposed to be the first - but we decided to try it on your puppy first. Unfortunately-”\n\n“You killed Huxley?” I roared. “You little bastards - I’ll get you -”\n\nI swung, and the little blue man ducked with superhuman speed. My hand went right through where his face was. Such was my surprise that I nearly fell over myself.\n\n“How did you-how did you do that?” I asked.\n\n“It’s in the game,” the blue man replied. “Perhaps you may surmise from my disguise that I am not properly human. Maybe now you want to learn a little more about the game rather than threatening me?”\n\n“Your alien-ness doesn’t excuse you from being a total asshat,” I said. “What’s going on?”\n\n“Only this,” the alien said. “We come from a world where solving problems is a big deal.”\n\n“Welcome to Earth,” I said. “Where pretending to solve problems is equally as big-”\n\n“It’s life changing, sir,” the alien said. “The game we gave you has unsolved problems in physics, mathematics - really the most fundamental sciences in the universe. It holds the key to the future of our tiny world. Would you like to see us?”\n\nI clicked on my computer, and instantly a starfield appeared on the screen. The alien moved the mouse, and soon I could see what appeared to be a barren patch of universe. A binary system moved slowly. And hidden behind the second star-\n\n“That’s home,” he said. “That is where I come from. And you have to help us solve the chaotic three-body problem - or else my home planet will be thrown into the star.”", "So there I was, sitting at the breakfast table in my boxers with my Lucky Charms and filthy bong, when this scientist dude in a lab coat walks right in to my kitchen.\n\n\"The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.\" That's all he said. After that, he just stood there, in a sort of semi-comatose trance.\n\n\"You okay, scientist dude?\" I waved my hand in front of him, and his eyes registered the motion, but only barely.\n\nI noticed how huge his pupils were. Finally, something familiar. I fumbled with my phone, quit out of Candy Crush, and dialed Brad.\n\n\"Hey, uh...?\" Brad was not very eloquent if you caught him at the crack of noon.\n\n\"Hey Brad, it's me. Can you swing by? I gotta trip-sit this dude in a lab coat.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I...\" Brad drew out a slow yawn. \"...I can be there in like 20,\" he underestimated.\n\n\"Thanks, man. See ya soon.\"\n\nI looked back at the scientist... still standing there, drooling a bit.\n\n\"Come on, dude.\" I led him to the couch, sat him down, and went to get a sippy-cup full of water. (I keep them around for \"special\" occasions. Don't judge.)\n\n\"Drink this, dude. Gotta stay hydrated.\"\n\nThe scientist took the cup and sipped on it, looking at the TV intently, like a pre-verbal child.\n\nI had left Ancient Aliens on while I was making breakfast. The dude with the hair was talking.\n\n\"...spectacular to see... that, you know, electricity was not invented... by our civilization...\"\n\nNormally this would be incredibly entertaining, but I was still slightly too sober to properly enjoy it. I grabbed my bong from the kitchen and went back to my room to pack another bowl. \"Stay put, scientist dude. You're safe here.\"\n\nTwo bowls later, I was sufficiently blasted, and I waddled back into the living room, with all the grace of a drunken duck. I felt bad about not offering any to my guest, but he seemed to be in the middle of his own, uh... \"experiment.\"\n\n\"How ya doing, man?\"\n\nThe scientist looked up from his sippy cup. \"The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.\"\n\nMy head and body rushed a toasty comforting haze. The Ancient Aliens dude on TV started making more and more sense.\n\nI started to notice I was aware of more than 3 spatial dimensions. Colors began to spread out in a 360-degree mandala pattern, far beyond my normal field of view. Some of these colors had never been witnessed by human eyes.\n\nI was suddenly aware of our true forms. The scientist's consciousness was barely tuned in to this plane of reality... He was less of a messenger than a message, a homunculus or avatar, a semi-autonomous part of a much greater being.\n\nI spread out the fractal tendrils of my interdimensional awareness. How many eons had I stayed in human form? No, not \"I\"... We. What was our purpose, and why had we forgotten? A strange haze clouded my mind, and the train of thought tapered off... Wasn't there a dude in a lab-coat in here earlier? Or did I imagine that?\n\nShit. This weed is amazing!\n\nDing-dong! I wonder who's at the door.\n\n\"Hey man, lemme in, I gotta pee.\"\n\nOh! Brad's up early! We can get blazed and watch Ancient Aliens together!\n\nI open the door, and begin another excellent day.", "\"The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.\" said the man in the lab coat. He glanced at his watch. \"One minute to the next one.\"\n\n\"What are you doing here?! What experiment?!\" asked Tim angrily. He wished his breakfast needed a knife. The situation was ridiculous, like a bad scifi, but the reality of a mad intruder was not funny at all.\n\n\"Adaptation testing. It's very remarkable, and yet concerning. Very, very concerning.\" Coat man's voice seemed confident, controlled — but Tim could clearly see his hands were shaking a little. \"Half minute to go.\"\n\n\"Adaptation? What adaptation? I've lived in this house for twenty years!\"\n\nThe man didn't answer. He glanced at his watch again, then took a syringe from his pocket. \"Finished!\" And before Tim could do anything he felt a jab.\n\nAnd the world changed.\n\nThe kitchen blinked away -- they were in a lab, white, featureless. The world has slowed down -- Tim saw his fork falling, in slow motion. The colors changed -- reds became more intense, while greens reduced. He felt his hands melting. He remembered being a prisoner here, in this world, in this lab. He remembered other tests. There was something green and purple underneath his skin.\n\nAnd then, as he changed, he remembered something else.\n\n\"The experiment is over.\" said it that was once Tim. It towered over the scientist. Its slicers moved as it breathed, its eyes opening and closing. The lab twitched, melted, changing into an alien landscape.\n\n\"Thank you for your time.\"\n\nAnd then it smiled.", "I sat quietly at the kitchen table with my fingers laced loosely around the mug of fresh coffee. The mid-morning sunlight spread around me, but I did not feel warm or comforted by it. Mr. Williams, or at least that's what he said his name was, stood across from me at the table. His demeanor was as sterile as the white lab coast he wore. For him this was all business.\n\n\"The experiment is over. And we at Metadine appreciate your participation. We understand that the adjustment post-experiment may be difficult...\"\n\nHis voice droned on as I stared into the black coffee and wished I could be pulled into its depths. My life -was it really my life?- was being pulled out from under me. In the living room, just on the other side of the wall, I could hear the cyborgs who had been in the roles of spouse and children for the last 8 years being placed in their shipping crates. My Ian. Wasn't real. Olivia and Jacob. Not real. \n\nHot tears slid down my cheeks as Mr. Williams continued explaining what benefits I would receive from Metadine and their associates. As if I cared at this point. I glanced sidelong from the coffee mug toward the living room entrance. I could see Olivia's small hand reaching out as if she wanted me to follow her. As one of the Metadine workers tucked her arm into the protective foam, I clasped both hands over my mouth to muffle the cry of pain, grief, and shock. What is real? What IS REAL? \n\n\"Once again, we'd like to thank you for your time,\" Mr. Williams motioned to one of the workers. The man walked toward me. I wanted to run. I wanted to grab my family and get as far away from these people as possible. But I couldn't move. I couldn't see. I heard a click and\n\n\n\n** \n...offline.", "One minute, and fifty six seconds. That is the perfect length of time, for perfectly poached eggs benedict. \n\nI inked the mark on my graph chart, a deep green dot to mark perfection, and the end of my compulsive poaching. But really the secret isn’t just in the time, it’s in a single teaspoon of white vinegar. Perfect coagulation, and the formula to guaranteed morning joy. \n\nI had eased my knife into the plush cloud of benedict when he slid the porch door open and let the cold autumn into my warm kitchen. I could feel the perfect yolks turning into cold gum. \n\n“The experiment is over,” he sat on the couch arm top, and crossed an ankle over a knee, “Thank you for your time.” His voice was a rich drone, as if made mundane by the duty of repeating similar syllables. \n \n“Who the flying f-,“ I stood up, the dish worthless now. His glasses could be much improved with half solidified yolk, but I was worried about the clay plate I had just bought from Thrift Oasis. \n \n“Come along now, little girl,” he waved towards the porch door, his motion casual in a lazed way. I stepped towards him, but half tripped over a tangle of scarves and empty juice bottles. Closer now, he smelled carbolic, and I could see a dark blue ink stain in his coat pocket. \n\n“How the f-“ \n\n“Ple-ase, pro-ceed,” \n\nMy glare must have meant little, because he stood up and disappeared through a clatter of plastic slider blinds. The flutter of his white coat disappeared into the morning light and my eyes hurt. If I was hangover, the sun this morning could have been migraine inducing. \n \nButter knife in hand I raked the sliders apart, and stomped onto my porch, the cold concrete stealing warmth through my bare feet. The second my eyes adjusted to the cloudless autumn sky, I felt myself falling through them. The porch dissolved into cloud vapor, and the vapor dissolved into gradients of light, sorted from bright to dark. \n\nAnd so I remembered I was not Keri, 22 years old, fresh chemistry graduate from Tonin University. I realized I had forgotten to pay the $65.72 meter ticket that lay crumpled at the bottom of my laptop bag. The same way I realized, that I had already found one minute and fifty six seconds to be the perfect poaching time, every time I participated in this experiment. \n\nWhat I could not remember, was how many cycles I had been here. \n\nI closed my eyes, and saw the bottom of a pond. I opened my eyes, and saw darkness. \n\nWake up, someone whispered in my ear. Their breath was warm, but it smelled like cresylic acid. \n", "\"What the syrup!\" Isaac screamed as the man in a white robe with khakis on underneath yanked his plate away.\n\n\"The experiment is over. Thank you for your time.\"\n\n\"No, what? How is my breakfast nook your place for an experiment? And give me back my chocolate chip and raspberry jam waffles, I worked hard on those,\" Isaac said. Another man in a white robe was shuffling through his kitchen taking every edible item and pouring it out into a trash bag or down the sink.\n\n\"Sir, we need you to calm down. You've lived under our view for some time now, you have the cure inside and we needed your body to be surprised.\"\n\n\"That's not a thing...\"\n\n\"With all do respect, we've just run the tests for two years-\"\n\n\"Two years! Holy strawberry crepe.\"\n\n\"and we've determined it is very much a 'thing' as you say. Your body has already begun destroying the white blood cells that mutated to combat cancer. Luckily we've extracted enough of them we can conform nanobots to work as they do.\"\n\n\"Nanobots? Who are you all with? I demand to know who's responsible for this outrageous prank- and more importantly, since this is very obviously a jest of some kind- who is going to replace all my groceries and my damn waffles?\" Isaac pushed his face as close to the man in the white robe as possible.\n\n\"Isn't it obvious?\" The man Isaac had his face nearly kissing shoved a two pronged barb into Isaac's side and pulled the trigger. Electricity ripped through Isaac's spine, limbs, torso and skin. \"We're with the Church of Scientology.\"", "I had poached eggs, the day the world ended.\n\nNow all I have is a blanket and vine-wrapped broken highway in front of me that seems to go on forever.\n\n(the highway, not the blanket.)\n\nBut it started with poached eggs and a figure in a lab coat. It walked into my kitchen, stopped right by Amy's side, \nlooking right at me.\n\n\"Thank you for your time, Mr. Taylor.\"\n\nI dropped the fork on the table. Amy was frowning too, and so was Zara (that's our daughter).\n\n\"What? Who are you? What is –\"\n\n\"Please bear in mind that it might take a while, but everything will make sense once the haze of The Box goes away. Thank you very much.\"\n\nAnd I'll never forget the poached eggs. I'll never forget because that's when I got up and dropped them and the \nplate crashed, and my eyes stopped on Zara's, and she was so scared. It was one second -- one second when time stood still, even the crashing sound seemed to linger -- and before I could say or do anything, the world went black.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nAnd then I opened my eyes to the broken world. And no memories. I know nothing of what happened to Amy or Zara. No idea how I got here.\n\nIt went from the crashing and the eggs and Zara to silence, and then an open blue sky. Chirping. Leaves rattling and a cold wind, my back against the dirt. I raised my head and looked around.\n\nTrees. An open field. And the distant silhouette of a skeleton city.\n\nI don't know what happened to the world.\n\nYou know what I do know, though? I know I've been wandering around for three months, and I've yet to see \nanother human face. I know I've killed a coyote with my bare hands last week, right next to a rotten building that used to be the Griffith Observatory. I know I went past Hollywood Boulevard a couple of days ago, and the Chinese Theater is now a wolf lair, so don't go there.\n\nFrom that plate crashing spilling poached eggs to the blue, cloudless sky and my back against the dirt, I went from a married man with an apartment in Santa Monica to a cave man.\n\nTo the last man in the world.\n\nI have no idea what's going on. But I'm finding Amy. I'm finding Zara.\n\nThe day after I woke up I found something in my pocket. It was a piece of paper, old like over thirty years. A page \nfrom a notebook, yellow and flaky. Written in child handwriting was a smiley face and the words 'I'm Tracy.'\n\nI had no memory of this at all.\n\nThen in another handwriting, 'What do you think they're going to do to us?'\n\nAnd in the first one, 'I don't know. What's The Box?'\n\nAnd then, 'I'm scared.'\n\nI have no idea what's going on. But I'm gonna find out.\n\nThe sky is getting darker. I should find a place to sleep. And then tomorrow…\n\nTomorrow is the day I'll find Amy and Zara. \n\nI have to keep telling myself that. It's what keeps me going. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.\n\nThunder. Look like it's raining tonight.\n\nTomorrow.\n\n_____________\n\n[PART 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/412ex0/the_box_part_2/\n)\n\n[PART 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/413a9w/the_box_part_3/)", "The man entered my kitchen the way he always had- through the door in the white tile wall, the only door out of my apartment. He gave me his usual smile, one of responsibility tinged with guilt, one of a man who works for the greater good and turns a blind eye to his daily actions. He had on the same clothes he always did, a simple lab coat with pocket protector, and the same hair style, though his balding condition had progressed over the eighteen years of my life.\n\nBut one thing was different about Daedalus, my assigned scientist. Today, he carried a gun and a syringe.\n\nFrom my position at the stove, bacon just in the frying pan and ready to sizzle, three eggs cracked for a future omelet, and diced vegetables waiting to be sauteed, I froze. I'd known this day was coming. We both had.\n\n\"The experiment is over,\" Said Daedalus, offering that sweet smile with heavy eyes, \"Thank you for your time.\"\n\n\"Will you at least join me for breakfast first? You owe me that much.\" I said, extending an arm towards my kitchen table.\n\nDaedalus frowned, his eyes narrowing, and I knew what he was thinking. That it was against protocol. That should an accident happen, and I, Clone 314159, get loose, there would be more than the loss of his career to pay for it.\n\nBut he knew I wouldn't be getting loose- I had been bred for civility, for being docile, for low aggression. And Daedalus was human- he was the closest I had to a father or friend, being the only human I had even been in the same room with, and I suspected that I was the closest he had ever had to a son. His body language indicated it, and after years of study on the human interractions that I would never have, I was somewhat of an expert on the subject. Theoretically, at least.\n\n\"Fine,\" He said, sighing, and placed the gun on the table. It was only a precaution, after all. Not once in the history of The Program had the gun ever been used, since every clone had accepted the injection without complaint. Since every clone had died without complaint.\n\nWith my back turned towards him, I poured two glasses of orange juice. Mine on the left, and his on the right. And I set them on the table.\n\nMine on the left. His on the right.\n\nAnd then I sat down myself.\n\n\"Biscuits are in the oven. Done in fifteen minutes. I must know, Daedalus, was it successful?\" I asked, searching his face for clues. But Daedelus made no movement as I sipped my own orange juice. And I knew he was thinking back on the same memories as me.\n\nMemories of The Program.\n\nIt had been fifty years since The Program had been instituted. Fifty years since a genetic biologist made a discovery that rocked the world, changing religion, science, and philosophy forever. It's strange to think it took humans this long to find. It's stranger to think that the clue was in all of us.\n\nBut she found a group of genes, dormant ones, and she disciphered a code from the first. And in that code gene she found Pi, written to sixty digits.\n\n\"It is impossible,\" she said at his press conference, as the world watched on television, \"For such a gene to exist by nature. The statistics are astronomical, the chances incredibly slim. No, this gene was placed there. It was left behind by the hand of another. A message for us to find. And we don't know why.\"\n\nAnd The Program had been instituted to find out.\n\nThere were hundreds of us clones throughout the years, each with slight tinkerings to our genetic code, experiments by scientists trying to activate genes locked away by the mysteries of organic chemistry. We'd been monitored, we'd been interrogated, we've been tested. And of the clones, I had been the most successful.\n\nI still remember when I was two, and Daedalus filmed me reading into a camera. \n\n\"Go on,\" he said, pressing record, \"Let's hear it.\"\n\n\"I want a treat first.\" I pouted, and Daedalus handed me a slice of an apple, my favorite food.\n\nThen I read, enunciating each word correctly, pausing to answer his questions. And after an hour he let me close Dante's Inferno, but not before translating it to English.\n\nBut Daedalus never saw what I put into my pocket.\n\nYears later, I developed my own mathematical theorems. I became a professor at MIT when I was ten, holding lectures over the internet- something Daedalus insisted I always have access to, to spur my learning. \n\n\"I don't want to teach class today,\" I complained, halfway through the semester, as students and scientists alike awaited my lecture.\n\n\"Come now, I'll have treats waiting for you,\" Prompted Daedalus, and held up two apples, \"Your favorite.\"\n\nSo I taught the class, and ate the apples.\n\nAnd Daedalus never saw what I put into my pocket afterward.\n\nSo the years progressed, and I grew smarter. And I grew stronger, thick muscles forming where I had never exerted myself. Daedalus took notes. And I took apples.\n\nBut now, he spoke across the table, answering my question about the success of the program.\n\n\"No, it was not a success, but you're the closest we've come.\" he answered, and took a gulp of his orange juice. And I waited, watching the glass. Because Daedalus was wrong, and I remembered what he did not.\n\nI remember my feelings, urgings to escape, an instinctual pressure that grew with each passing year. A desire to build as a bird creates a nest, or an ant a mound. And I knew from viewing past files that this had occurred to no other clone.\n\nAnd as Daedalus' skin began to turn purple, I remembered other things.\n\nI remembered collecting the apple seeds for over a decade, and storing them in hidden packets under my bed. I remember the advanced chemistry I took, and the lessons about how cyanide can be attained from natural sources, particularly apple seeds, given time and proper ingenuity. And I remembered making the poison, taking advantage of a power outage two years ago, when a storm had struck and the cameras monitoring my apartment were down.\n\nAnd I remember just moments before taking the vial of cyanide I had hidden, and adding it to his orange juice. I had never tested the cyanide- I did not know if it would work. But I watched as Daedalus collapsed, and I stood over him, tears streaming down my face for my dying father. \n\n\"The experiment is over,\" I said, my voice choked, the act of poisoning him a direct contrast to the nature bred within me, \"Thank you for your time.\"\n\nThen I took his labcoat, and his gun, and I left my apartment for the first time in my life, with nothing to guide me but instinct.\n\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/leoduhvinci/comments/416jnr/wp_youre_sitting_in_your_kitchen_eating_breakfast/)\n\n****\n\nBy Leo\n\nAnother part coming soon. Feel free to check out my work on /r/leoduhvinci while you wait, as part two will be posted on there as well. \n\n" ]	36
	[WP] Dear Diary, Today everyone died.	[ "It was pure havoc. In heaps lay bodies, young and old, in other areas only lay burnt shadows on the ground. The air smelt of smoke and burnt flesh. It had just started to rain. A boy walks, no older than ten years old, holding a small girl on his shoulders. With each step, her hands flap up and down, up and down, limp as a rag doll. Tears are streaming down his face. Air Raid sirens still sound out, although it's rather too late, the bombs have already dropped. The boy stops, gently placing the girl on the ground. She's no older than two, and barely breathing. He sits on the ground with her. Burns are up and down his body, and he lacks barely any patches of hair on his head. Only the dead are around, and the world has become a maddening silence. He has given up, but wants the world to remember him before he succumbs like his little sister just has. He pulls out a book, with the girl resting on his legs, hands shaking with pain, and writes simply in Japanese,\n\n\"Dear Diary, Today everyone died.\"", "Molten pain pierced his chest and took the strength from his legs. He fell forward, face first into a hillock. He grabbed handfuls of dirt and wrenched himself onto his side. His comrades lay beside him, some still fighting, some convulsing in pain, most were perfectly still. He felt a warm breeze in his hair, and it was only then he realized that his helmet was gone. Looking down at his shredded body, he found his helmet pressed up against his stomach, collecting blood like sand from an hourglass. \n\nHe reached into his tattered breast pocket and pulled a small brown notebook, tied closed with a piece of twine. Pulling the knot free with his teeth, he flipped forward to the picture of a slender smiling brunette, marking the current page in his journal. Tenderly, he removed the photograph and placed it back in his pocket before touching his pen to the paper. \n\nSmudges of dirt and blood from his palm underlined the only words he managed to enscribe.\n\n\"Dear Diary, Today everyone died.\"", "The fire catches and takes hold, so my first job is to go around the house and make sure the doors and windows are closed properly. I'll enjoy the fire later, once it's had a chance to develop a bit. For now, chores.\n\nI mop down the plastic sheeting on all the floors with a strong bleach solution, then with water, then dry them. One room at a time. Once the sheets are dry I fold them and put them back in the storage closet under the stairs. I'm not sure I'll need them again, but waste not want not.\n\nNext, I make sure the other surfaces are clean. Everything needs a wipe down, of course, and I make sure everything gets one. It really is a chore, but I remind myself that if I do it well now then it's really just upkeep thereafter.\n\nIn the kitchen, I clean off the utensils. Some still have scraps attached to them, so it's on with the rubber gloves and into the disposal they go. After washing everything down with water, the disposal gets a bleach solution too. Then I carefully clean the knives and they go in the dish washer with everything else. Bleach the sink, and the draining board, and with the dish washer on I can start to relax a little. I make coffee and check my laptop.\n\nAccording to the app on my phone, all eight canisters released. But to be sure I check the web page again on my laptop because it has more detailed information. Yes. All eight canisters have delivered payload, which is good. I seal the doors and windows, then ensure that the filters in my air system are new and fitted correctly. Sipping the coffee, I go over the inventory. I have food and water for ninety days and a cellar full of other supplies. By the time I need to leave this building, the virus will have burned itself out.\n\nI go through my checklist. \nEveryone who lived with me is out there, in the yard, on the fire. As are the neighbours who might have come knocking on the door. No one is going to come looking for me until it's far too late for them to care about what I've done.\n\nMy last job of the day, before I go upstairs to watch the pyre burn down, is to complete my last blog. \n\"Dear Diary. Today, everybody died\". A white lie, it'll take at least three or four weeks for everyone to die. Still, it's only me counting." ]	3
	[Wp] You're 17. You awake suddenly one Saturday morning, and roll over to see what looks like your father standing a few feet away, motionless. A small, hose-like object is in his hand, but it's hard to make out. His eyes are red and his face looks strange...almost like a mask...	[ "I screamed in horror as I saw those dry red eyes staring at me. He didn't even flinch as I did so. I couldn't control myself as shrill shrieks escaped my body and ricocheted through the air hitting my ears back with a sound as loud as a fire truck. I curled by shaking limbs into a ball and waited for my dad to do something, to say something. But he did nothing but let his eyes stare through my body. I noticed he had some sort of hose like object in his hand.\n\n\"What's with the mask, haha\" I said weakly.\n\nNo reply. The next minute was entirely composed of me leaning against the wall next to my bed while my dad looked at me.\n\n\"Alright,\" I decided to say, \"I'm going to get up, please don't use, ah, whatever that is in your hand on me please.\" \n\nI walked past my dad, he didn't move, he didn't even blink. I heightened my speed down the creaky steps of my attic bedroom into the house below.\n\nIt was an absolute wreck. The sofa was torn up as if as wild best and pulled all the cushioning out of it in a blind rage. The rest of the room hadn't fared much better. I didn't know what to make of the room but only one thought went through my head. \"Get out.\"\n\nI ran my way through the front door and out to the lawn. The sky was tinted with a crimson red that shone down onto my face. Surrounding my door were five men, kneeling in a semicircle. They all had the same hoses objects in their hand. I slowly tried to walk backwards back into the house. The person in the center of the semicircle raised his head and looked straight at me. I could now see that his entire face was covered with a red mask, like a sheet of plastic had been strapped onto his face. He started murmuring words that I couldn't understand. The other four people in the semicircle stood up and I could see they had the same mask. I tried to open the front door but to no avail, something was forcing the door shut. I screamed out for help but my cries echoed with no response, not even from them. \n\nI slid down on the down frame and started crying, \"Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me. Please!\"\n\nThe one in the center reached me and paused. I could hear a faint whisper, \"Your better now.\" He shoved the hose straight into my forehead.", "I rolled over.\nThe second I looked at him I knew: the old man had been smoking weed again. His eyes were redder than the devil's dick.\nWait...what the fuck...why the hell is he wearing the Reagan mask? Halloween was weeks ago. For christ sake it's almost Christmas!\nAnd what is he holding? Oh Jesus. He must have been watering the ficus, he does that when he's blazed. Thinks that stupid thing is real sometimes. I just hope he doesn't decide to spray me-aaaand he just fucking did. That fuck is giggling like a school girl because of it.\n....I can't wait to move out." ]	2
they can be international, planetary, galactic, dimensional, square, deadly, safe, any way you want. just include portals.	[wp] write a story involving portals of any kind	[ "\"Hello\" the man in the suit said\n\n\"Why are you in my room?\" I said and put my books down, I heard my closet door shutting\n\n\"What was that?\"\n\n\"Forget it..\"\n\n\"I wanna show you something, a gift\" he said smilingly and pointed to a hole--a rift...a portal.\n\n\"See that, go through that with me\"\n\n\"ok..\" I said and walked through\n\n\"Where are we?\"\n\n\"Not where but when\"\n\n\"We walked through a different dimension\"\n\n\"One that is about 45 seconds behind\"\n\n\"Look there is me\"\n\n\"Wave\"\n\n\"ugh hi\" he waved in turn\n\n\"He's coming go in the closet\"\n\n\"Hello\"\n\n\"Why are you in my room?\" \n\n\"can you shut the door fully\" he whispered, I did it but I left a bit of noise\n\n\"What was that?\"\n\n\"Good job\"\n\n\"Forget it..\"\n\n\"I wanna show you something, a gift\"\n\n\"See that, go through that with me\"\n\n\"ok..\"\n\n\"ok they are gone we can leave the closet now\"\n\n\"So now what?\"\n\nhe started to laugh, and created another portal\n\n\"Let's go bud, you and me are gonna tear every dimension apart!\"\n\n\"ok..\"\n\n\"Parties galore % inbound !\"\n" ]	1
Have fun with this prompt :)	[WP] Write about someone fighting in a war against heaven in an attempt to kill God.	[ "\"I refuse this!\" I screamed, as I brought my sword to bear against the angel's spear. I twisted my blade against the shaft, dodging the attempt to skewer me, before swinging upwards with a roar, bifurcating the holy being as my sword glowed in front of me. All around me battle raged, the attacking forces pushing forward with their sheer numbers. I dispatched another being in front of me with a wicked combination, flashing my blade in front of me once, twice, before forcing the angel into a fatal misstep that ended with the point of my sword poking out of her back. I stepped back to let the body slide off my sword, then drank in what was happening all around me. \n\nPotentia , The words on the blade said. Fallen Angels and Fallen Souls alike had rallied behind this blade, that had appeared in front of me as Saint Peter had put down his judgement, that I was unfit for the pearly gates, not because I was a bad person, but because I hadn't believed in God during my time on earth. For that, I was to suffer an eternity of damnation. \n\n\"Er, could I speak to the big guy about this?\" I ask, stepping gingerly away from the fiery pit of brimstone to the left of Saint Peter . \n\nSaint Peter chuckled. \"The \"Big Guy\", as you so cavalierly call him, is omniscient. He already knows what you're going to ask him about, and since you're still on the same list, what you were going to say to him probably wasn't that enlightening, nor did it change his mind.\"\n\nDuring my time on earth, I thought of myself as a pretty reasonable guy. Compromises instead of outright coercion, I preferred to use logic and reason to get my way into and out of situations. \n\nWhich is why I, like everyone around me, was pretty surprised when I stepped up and hit Saint Peter with the most brutal uppercut I have ever managed to unleash. His notebook went flying, and he staggered backwards, hand on his jaw. The souls behind me awaiting judgement, and the souls in front of who were about to step into the portal to hell stopped, mouths agape and eyes bulging. \n\n It was then, that Potentia appeared in front of me, a hand and a half sword with glowing red runes, beckoning me to take it. I wrapped my hands around the handle and stepped forward, pushing past a still stunned Saint Peter to stand directly in front of the Pearly Gates. \n\n\"Go on.\" The blade had seemed to whisper to me, potent energies dancing along the runes. \"Let's arrange a meeting with the big guy ourselves.\" \n\nI had drawn the sword back and smashed it into the gates, breaking them apart and allowing an easy way in. By now, a lot of the souls who were waiting in line, and all the souls were condemned to damnation but hadn't made the jump yet, stood behind me. \n\nThat was where I had begun my rebellion against God. \nI smiled in reminiscence as my forces routed the rest of the defenders, driving them back towards the tower castle in the distance. \n\nGod's Citadel. That's where I would meet Him. \n\nThat's where I would set things right. ", "You know, I will be the unsung hero. Scratch that, I will always be remembered as a villain.\n\nAll because I'm going to kill God.\n\nHow will people understand that I'm doing it for them? How will people understand that there is no benevolent God, there is no salvation if He remains?\n\nHow will people understand that He doesn't care? That He doesn't deserve them or their oh so beautiful souls?\n\nHow will they understand that souls are power and power is corruption and He will abandon them to the abyss soon enough?\n\nI can imagine it already.\n\nFirst will be the unraveling, humanity will kill itself. Then there will be the wars, bloody until the streets run red with bloodlust. The desertion will soon follow, until people will hunger endlessly, from birth till death because they will never have enough.\n\nThen the world itself will break, falling apart and breaking into pieces, dissolving into nothing.\n\nThen it will be literally Hell on Earth, but unlike your Revelations, there will be no end. So, to Heaven I go.\n\nI fight against many things, but most of all, the angels who are deluded in their mission.\n\nI close my eyes whenever I kill them as so not to see their wings burn away, their mouth a rictus of horror and fright. Even though they are my adversaries, I still hate to see them die.\n\nI'm alone in my battles. Nobody else understands but me. Of course, I mean it metaphysically. Of course I have an army to fight my battles for me, but even they don't understand.\n\nHeaven is in my sights. It glows with power and I wince.\n\nThe thing is about Heaven, is that the Gates aren't the only way in. Of course, it's the only way for souls, but I'm not a soul. I can slip in through the cracks of the twelve pearl Gates.\n\nHeaven isn't clouds and paradise, it's an illusion of all you've ever wanted. It's a dream of a dream, but wrapped up in a nightmare if you know where to look. Some may be happy, but it's a cheap magic trick nonetheless.\n\nGod isn't one being, physically speaking. If you want to get technical, He's all of Heaven. But, everything has a weak spot. Even our supposedly omnipotent god.\n\nHis happens to be in the center of Heaven. Eden.\n\nEden isn't completely gone, where do you think it went after Adam and Eve left? Where did you think it was?\n\nEden remains, and sometimes, I think it's the true Heaven.\n\nNobody's guarding it. I suppose it's because everybody's at the Gates. Nobody believes Eden is of much importance anymore, it's purpose has been served.\n\nNot quite yet.\n\nI see him there. God the false god.\n\nHe's leaning against the tree. As if it were nothing, meant nothing and had done nothing.\n\n\"You.\"\n\nThat's all I say. It's simultaneously enough and inadequate at the same time.\n\nGod smiles faintly, as if he's expected it all along. The thought infuriates me, like I'm just a joke to him, of no consequence at all.\n\nI flick up my sword and bring it to his throat. It's just far away enough to not draw blood, with one motion, I could decapitate him like an afterthought. \n\nHe still doesn't move.\n\nNo words are said, and somehow, no words are needed.\n\nI bring my arm back and with two hands, swing at God's head.\n\nThe blade slices through like I'm just swinging through air.\n\nThe ground rumbles and around me, I can see things start to dissolve.\n\nWhen God is gone, things start to fall apart.\n\nI look back and all there is are strings, silvery white strings that once held Heaven together.\n\nI reach out and take them, tie them together and fix them.\n\nWhen I'm done, I look up and see for the first time.\n\nI understand everything.\n\nEverything at once and nothing at all.\n\nMy name?\n\nI don't see how it matters, but my name is Lucifer, and I'm your new God." ]	2
I just watched The Revenant and thought how the director threw me off with the gritty long shots and uninterrupted sequence of actions, unlike a lot of other movies where the leader would give a motivating speech and we see a montage of crew member working on a project for about a minute. I just think it would add a lot to the story and charcters if you show something that is "boring" to the audience, but otherwise very unconfortable or even grueling for them.	[WP] Write a scene in a movie/book that the director/author would normally skip.	[ "He recognized it at once. He'd built the android himself. \n\nDr. James bent painstakingly over the circuit boards, hand-soldering each connection. Filing away at the edges. Placing each bit of circuitry into the nearly-finished metal framework.\n\nHer skeleton was complete. He readjusted the tubes inside, leading from mouth to stomach, from the throat to the lungs. Heart to increasingly smaller tubes throughout the body.\n\nNow nerves. Muscles. Slowly, carefully, he braided and twined each individual cord, molding them together, then welding them, one by one, to the framework.\n\nOver this, he lovingly wrapped a protective layer of sheeting, to keep the silicone from getting into the hardware. \n\nIt was time.\n\nHe wanted to carry her in his arms, but already, even with aluminum substitutions, she weighed as much as an average woman. Well, so she'd be a little heavy. He dragged the framework to the mold, carefully tipping it, sliding it in, and closed the casing.\n\nThe mold had been a godsend, discarded by one of those companies that makes \"real\" sex dolls. Silicone poured from the vat, filling the mold. Shaping her body.\n\nHe waited, impatiently, for the silicone to set, then opened the casing and stood her on her feet. He set to work with sandpaper, filing at the edges, insuring their would be no seams, no rough patches to give lie to the illusion of real human flesh.\n\nThe electronics inside would heat it just enough to give the illusion of human warmth. He continued sanding, first the torso, hips, head. Then the limbs. Finally he attacked the ears, and each individual finger and toe.\n\nThe silicone paints hadn't come cheap. Too tired to work on it that night, he decided to get some sleep. He said goodnight, kissed the pasty semi-transparent face of the android, and went to bed.\n\nFirst thing when he woke, he began mixing the paints. First a deep purple which, under the later flesh tones, would pass for veins. He dipped his brush again and again, forcing himself to first paint the scalp and neck, the face. Her shoulders. Arms. He lovingly traced faint lines over her breasts and stomach. Her back. Each vein, down to her toes. He used reference photos when he was unsure.\n\nHe worked straight through breakfast and lunch, and finished with the last heel just before dinner. Irritated at the interruption of his body and its need for food, he hastily slapped together a sandwich and ate it as he walked back to the lab.\n\nShe would have a healthy complexion. He coated the entire android in pink, working until a few hours before dawn. He slept then, only until the sun peeked over the horizon, then feverishly continued his work.\n\nOrange. Blue to neutralize it. Another layer of blush, this time, dabbed over the body with a sea sponge to give a realistic tone.\n\nAlready she looked eerily lifelike. But it wasn't enough. No one should be able to tell. \n\nThe phone rang, bringing him back to reality, but he let it go to voicemail. It was difficult to restrain himself from the temptation of turning her on. Testing her. The process had already been refined.\n\nWith an exacto knife, feeling with his fingers for the frame beneath, he slit open her lips, carving his way back to the barest millimeter before exposing the tubing inside. He'd molded the gums separately, around real teeth he'd collected himself from behind a nearby dentist's office. Now he took more silicone and fit the inside of the mouth with teeth and tongue.\n\nA rich plum coated her lips and tongue. A little more around the inner cheeks. The tongue he'd left unsanded. He was overjoyed when the coat of paint turned sporadic imperfections into tiny speckled tastebuds.\n\nA coat of brown he dabbed at until it almost vanished. Another layer of blush. Heavy on the gums, the inner ear. The nipples. He stroked a fair amount onto her cheeks and chin, her palms, and the soles of her feet.\n\nShe was perfection. \n\nHe retired for the night, little realizing he hadn't eaten at all that day.\n\nHis eyes popped open. It was still dark outside, but there was work to be done.\n\nHe worked until lunch, coating the entire body with a clear matte, one stroke at a time. Finally, he inserted the eyes, and sealed them with gloss for a wet shine. for good measure, he added the gloss inside her mouth and to the inner edge of her lips.\n\nHe ate then, for the first time in days, then returned to his work.\n\nFor the trial runs, he'd used mohair. For this, his first masterpiece, he'd gathered real human hair.\n\nWith a 46g forked rooting needle, he separated a single strand of hair, and carefully eyed the face. Here. He poked the needle in gently, so as not to damage the silicone. Again. And again. One gently curved line of thick hair over one eye. A comb with an attached razor cut them to a natural length. He curled them, then, with an eyelash curler. Time for the next eye.\n\nHe debated, for a time, rooting the hair on her entire body, fine white hairs that would be noticeable only to him, but decided first to work on the eyebrows, and the scalp.\n\nIt took two more weeks of ten hours a day or more, but at last she was finished.\n\nHe lay her gently on the bed and began chest compressions on her - the power button rested inside her heart.\n\nHer eyes opened. She blinked. Opened her mouth.\n\nSteam rose from her head, then smoke. \n\n\"Shit,\" he said. \"Oh shit.\" Her hair burst into flames. Silicone dripped onto the floor. \n\nDr. James grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprayed his creation. She was ruined. Circuits fried. Face half gone.\n\nHe reached for his voice recorder. \n\n\"Model 796-D, terminated,\" he said. \"I will begin on model 797-A\"\n\nWithout a pause, he thrust the faulty android to one side, and began again.\n\n---\n\nWriter's note: I know this is very poorly written. I tried. But boring stuff is boring :P Still, I have always thought about how long it would take to make one of those realistic androids in the movies, and how they're usually some insanely high numbered attempt.\n\nImagine watching or reading this (and I still left out a lot!) 796 times. No wait. D and then A. So each model # 4 times... so... a bunch of times!\n\nEven though I wrote it crappy, I actually did a tiny bit of research to find out how realistic dolls are made, figuring you'd do much the same for a living breathing android. \n\nThat stuff is super creepy! :P\n\nSo I hope this satisfied your craving for boring scenes! :P If not, good luck finding something more tedious!! :D", "\"20 minutes to Khartoum, Sir.\"\n\nSwirling the Presecco in my flutish glass I remember his final words.\n\n\"A warning too late is a promise.\"\n\nThe clouds shift in my peripheral vision, the insipid elevator movie plays, and I know I must begin. When the wheels touch down I will have to commit, but to who? Reclining the love seat I press a few keys on my armrest and a Sony display descends in front of me. The screen blips on and a wave of relief washes over me. My brain trust. EYES kicks it off. \n\n\"Lech, I'm sleepy, as you instructed. No sauce yet, but it seems that Razor Incorporated can't be bought.\"\n\n\"Are we sure?\"\n\n\"Aye, Sir.\"\n\n\"EARS, concur?\"\n\n\"Sorry to say it. See, owning is one thing. Anyone may (not will). That has been done, but this is another matter entirely.\"\n\n\"Breakdown?\"\n\n\"EYES can tell you.\"\n\n\"Lech, the Plastics Collective of the Mid-East will declare total economic war on Hartford & Wilshire & Co., if any sub-whites are euthanized. They used to be Sudanese Residents, so even after assimilation the PCEM sees them as such. From what we hear, the federal support of the new bill for population control puts you and every registered Winter party member in a sticky spot. Think the Despotic President.\"\n\n\"Listen close BODY.. \"\n\nI clear my throat, feeling strained from paranoia. \n\n\"Do you think Minister Amber advised the party in this direction with full knowledge that this would entrap us and leave her free to roam as an unregistered agent?\"\n\n\"Perhaps.\"\n\n\"It is possible.\"\n\n\"I doubt it, Sir. Far too simple.\"\n\n\"Breakdown?\"\n\n\"I have unadulterated access to her file, and she knows it. She is playing a game in all this, but elsewhere.\"\n\n\"Boys, I will not abide net loss for Winter party. I intend to isolate what or who is risking our unalienable profits. I need more NOSE, is it possible that Summer party has purchased leading tech research and development firms to dwindle the projected sales of plastics?\"\n\n\"It is, Sir. The question remains, why aren't you in the loop? As a covert member of Summer party this information is vital for your operation. Summer knows that.\"\n\nTapping my feet anxiously, I shift in my chair. \n\n\"BODY, what is the percentile of probability that I am not meant to be an informant, but instead a controlled agent? A political placebo patsy?\"\n\n\"Running the numbers. They do, after all, have your psych profile.\"\n\n\"Run a search for me on the medical records of my reception envoy in Khartoum.\"\n\n\"Aye, Sir.\"\n\n\"Check up on the rumor that my donors are borrowing to cover the projected loss incurred by my death.\"\n\n\"They are.\"\n\n\"EARS, who is talking about me?\"\n\n\"Tabloids aside, only the United Russian Council. They are concerned by your visit south. The vote is being cast on shooting us down. Currently it is in recount, after a margin of two in your favor.\"\n\n\"The banks are obviously impossible to buy without a major share in the Baltic Sea. You know, all three of you, that one party will die, but which one?\"\n\n\"This just in, Amber's aid delivered an iron briefcase to your manor. It contained an empty strongbox.\"\n\n\"Get me visual verification.\"\n\nPowerful folks think I am going down today, I'll show them the meaning of a promise.\n\n\"Can you verify that Winter Chairman is involved in this plot? EYES?\"\n\n\"It appears we have lost him, Sir.\"\n\n\"The eyes always go first. EARS, check the flight roster to verify my pilot is clean. NOSE, get all the info you can on the rebel movements in Khartoum, I think they should kidnap me. Send it in text. Thank you for your service.\"\n\nThe display cuts out. When I arrive I will present myself as a representative of Winter or Summer, or so the rules of the game dictate. No. I'm going to form a third party. Amber, the Khartoum Rebels, and myself. Yes. Minister Amber advised as she did so as to wound Winter, not to bolster Summer. We have a chance to be more than a thorn in their foot. As they kill eachother, we build a new body. I suppose I should start with the eyes. Mine, and then theirs. But first, how to procure ownership of the Baltic Sea? \n\n\"5 minutes, Sir.\"\n\nThe strongbox is only empty to he who possesses the tools to open it. I am their controlled agent, no longer. This warning comes in the knick of time. I glimpse two clouds grappling in a tiny tempest of Biblical dualism. They will become one.", "Ulysses cracked open the door with his handgun, pleasantly surprised at how little sound it made, and peeked inside the hallway. The fluorescent lights hang dimly from the asbestos ceiling, and he noted that only half of them were lit. An irrelevant thought strangely popped into his highly stressful mind: there has to be a double-toggle switch somewhere along the wall, and one of them isn’t flipped on. His attention wandered for a second and focused on a flickering light tube dangling from its sockets. How the hell did that happen? He wondered; he shook his head hoping to regain his focus on the mission at hand. He attempted to take a quiet step into the hallway, but feeling the carpet rustle under his squeaky shoes and squeaky muscle, a surge of unwarranted panic sent shudders down his spine. It’s not too loud! He tried to comfort himself, you’re just spooking yourself. Fuck! How come the gun made less sound that my shoes? Doesn’t make sense. He tried to clear that thought out of his mind, but part of his uncooperative brain kept screaming “Doesn’t make sense! Doesn’t make sense!” so loud as if a nonexistent speaker over his head was broadcasting these words at maximum volume. He stopped abruptly and stared ahead in disbelief. He was now at the end of the hallway facing a peeling abstract oil painting with a wooden frame. He had no recollection how he got there, as if he stepped through a time portal and poof he appeared there. This is not going to end well, he thought, and suddenly felt paranoid. He lost control of his body and spun around. Right into a cold hole that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. Surrounding white light contrasted the hole to become a point that sucked away everything around it.\n\n“OH my go…” he startled and shivered violently from the unexpected shock, barely able to catch his breath, “oh my god oh my god.” He mind went blank as he repeated these words, unconscious of what was saying. \n\n“Drop your weapon.” A hoarse voice ordered. He couldn’t make out the face as he was blinded by the powerful light shoved in his face, but he was glad that the voice, despite its hostile intentions, knocked him out of the stupor caused by the shock. However, as eagerly he wanted to obey the command, which he knew was the smart thing to do, his fingers refused to drop the gun as reluctantly. A hundred thoughts bounced inside his mind simultaneously, it’s not my fault, why does it have to happen to me, I’m going to die, I hope I don’t die, that was the weirdest fucking experience, if only I had stayed in that room a bit longer, I should have thought more, what is he going to do, how do I escape, can I escape, my god I DON’T WANT TO DIE, could I have shot first, this doesn’t feel real, I failed the mission, training did nothing, shit shit shit shit calm down, CALM DOWN, no, I have nothing to lose though, Pete would laugh so hard right now if he sees me, sorry mom, fuck you dad, I REALLY DON’T WANT TO DIE I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE, it’s all over now, yep, no always have hope, no dammit I can’t think straight.\n\nA rude twist on his arm snapped him out of his mind once again, he felt friction inside his shoulder joints, Hey easy! He thought, but dared not speak. Another angry yank at the other arm. “Ow!” “Shut up.” His wrists were forced together by a biting rope that tightened in short bursts. A thin, rigid thing touched his head and he jerked a bit, his heart started racing. The unseen menace gave him a push and they started moving in the other direction. To Ulysses’ senses dulled by fear, everything around him was weighed down by a groggy heaviness and each moment lingered a little bit longer than usual like staccato played on a piano while stepping on the pedal: the air wobbled viscously, the muffled footsteps echoed, dark images of walls and doors blurred, the sensory residuals rested on his skin after each impatient poke from behind. He couldn’t think. His mind was overwhelmed by the senses. \n\nThey kept walking when Ulysses lifted his head and saw the blinking red dot in the shadows above the door across them, the only clue that they were proceeding under the heedless lens of a security camera. He walked by the door he came through, the distance seemed not long at all this time compared to the lapse of time he felt as he headed towards his doom a few minutes ago. His eyes were glued to the opening as if it lead towards his uncaught past and his freedom that felt like centuries ago. He got a painful warning on his head for this. “Stop twitching, spy.” He tried to come up with a clever rebuttal in his mind, a pathetic attempt of defiance towards his captors and the situation. That took his mind off the situation for some time, but eventually he failed to come up with anything. When he tried to come back to his senses, he experienced the strangest sensation that he floated above himself, detached from his body, and observed all these things, like they weren’t happening to him, but to another person. He saw that the door at the end of the hall drew closer and closer like the immense weight of a freight train slowing down to dock the platform, and he knew there’s nothing he could do to stop it. He breathed in deeply and came back to himself. What’s behind that door? He thought anxiously: the guru? A cell? The swat team that’s coming to save me? A line of rifleman ready to execute me? The anticipation grew and grew each step he got closer to door, and time stretched exponentially in proportion with the anticipation and formed a tiny spore of hysterical scream inside his abdomen, and it started to explode and blasted through his insides, moving quick and forcefully through his trachea, only to be impeded by his trembling bitten lips. The scream bashed against his teeth again and again like a battering ram, and he thought he couldn’t hold it anymore. \n\n", "Kira, finally done investigating the 'face paint' murders for tonight, hailed a cab and called it a day. Finally, some well deserved peace and quiet. Kira glanced down at her watch—2330 hours. That's great! I've only been out for the whole day! At least there's still an hour and a half before I get home. Maybe I can plan out tomorrow? Oh, haha. My job already did. Kira sat forward in her seat, elbows on her respective thighs, hands curled under her chin.\n\nKira glanced at her watch again—0000. A bit more tired now, Kira slouched back into the mild comfort of the passenger's seat. She stared at the dashboard—the hands indecisive of where to point. She let each jump and bump in the road rock her... fast... asleep...\n\n\"Tha...'ll be...dred dollars...'am.\" Groggy from her slumber, Kira struggled to fully awake.\n\n\"I said...be...hundre...ma'am. Ma'am!\" Kira still didn't understand what the driver had said, but conjured a random amount of money from her wallet. The driver appeared satisfied so Kira didn't think twice about giving the right amount. So tired All she wanted was sleep, but now that she was home, she knew she would take the night to absorb and think through yesterday's events. Even though she didn't need to.\n\n\"Home sweet home... home sweet home...\"" ]	4
	[WP] You fall down a man-hole on the way to work, only to find something you never thought possible.	[ "Prepped and ready for the day, I pull into the parking spot and take the elevator to ground level. Outside, I pause to smile at the morning sun. My step in gait, I wave to the passerbys.\n\nWhite lines bordered me while strolling, with concrete on either end. \n\n*Whoopp!\n\nFalling down,\n\nSent in into a hole,\n\nBumped my crown,\n\nOn some lonely Pole.\n\nAnd suddenly teled,\n\nAll the way to Poland.\n\n...\n\n\"Wow.\" Gazing up, my eyes spy a billboard \"Welcome to Poland\". Shaking my head, I check it for wounds. A-ok, checks out. 👍\nCautiously, I raise to my feet. Someone rushes up, \"Yo, welcome to Poland!\". A crowd gathers, \"Yeah, welcome!\" \"Ha ha! Welcome to Poland\" and other such vocalizations.\n\nWe walk out the door. Or more accurately, I was pushed, prodded and otherwise gently surfed out the door. Hands and smiles are all around me.\n\nShoes poundin' 'crete,\n\nWalking and smilin',\n\nThinking \"this is neat\",\n\nStrutting and stylin'.\n\n\nWhoop!*\n\nSuddenly I came,\n\nSuddenly I went,\n\nToday is not the same,\n\nWhere have I been sent?\n\nA manila envelope,\n\nHit my face aslope!\n", "“Oh Christ!” I said with a mouthful of food, looking at my phone. “I’m late!” I grabbed my keys off the table next to my door, stuffed the rest of my lukewarm breakfast sandwich in my mouth, and hurried out the door of my apartment. I turned to take the elevator, and OF COURSE it’s out again. “Why do I pay rent here,” I said aloud to myself. I had to take the stairs in a flash, and as I get to the front door of the apartment building, I bend over, panting. “I am so out of shape. That was only 3 flights,” I say to myself in between wheezes. “Maybe I have asthma? That’s a good excuse.”\n\nI swung the front door open and turned right. Naturally there are construction workers blocking off the main sidewalk. So, I turned to go in the other direction, and circle around the building. In my hectic footrace to beat the clock, I didn’t see the open manhole cover, which was no doubt left uncovered due to some hard hat not paying attention. \n\nI hit the floor of the sewer hard, with the impact of the drop going right to my knees. “I’m going back to bed,” I say as I try to figure out my bearings. I turned around to climb back out of the manhole cover that I’d just fallen through. Only, there’s no ladder. Naturally. \n\n“HEY!” I screamed out, as my voice echoed through the sewers, hoping that one of the construction workers would hear me. I looked down at my cell phone, and saw no bars. No signal. No anything. Nothing. \n\nAfter standing underneath the open manhole cover and screaming for the better part of 5 minutes, I figured I should try to find another way out of here. \n\nI started walking towards a dim light in the distance, but a shadow caught my eye. I stop. Frozen in fear. “Hello?” I cried out, as I tried to keep my voice from cracking. “Is there someone else down here?” Maybe it was one of those alligators in the sewer I’d always heard about. “Oh great, I’m gonna get eaten by a gator in a sewer,” I muttered to myself, trying to coax a laugh out of my mouth. I decide to continue on, towards the faint light. \n\nThe sloshing of the water around me muffled the sounds of everything in the sewer and the street above, as sounds echoed for what sounded like forever. I pulled my phone out and turned on the flashlight, at least it was better than relying on that dim light from ahead. No sooner did I get the light turned on, that I saw the shadow again. “Oh shit, that’s not a gator,” I said as the shadow was up on two legs, walking around in the distance. “Are you a construction worker?” I cried out with a combination of fear and relief. \n\nI didn’t get a response; instead the figure froze. I froze in fear. I turned to look behind me and get back to the open manhole cover, and realized the distance between me and the figure was a lot closer than me and the manhole cover. I slowly started walking backwards, with the light shining in front of me, as I stared at the frozen silhouette. “I need to get the fuck out of here,” I said in a panic. \n\n“Hey!” The voice cried out to me. “We’ve been waiting for you!”\n\nI decided to turn and run.\n\nThe flash of the camera on my phone only illuminated my path when my hand was out in front of me, a difficult task as I was sprinting back to where I’d fallen in.\n\nI jolted to a stop.\n\n“Oh my god.” There was the figure again, this time in front of me. I tried to catch my breath and figure out how the hell the figure that I was running from was now in front of me.\n\n“We’re starving,” the thing said to me. It began walking towards me. I could hear the splashing getting louder, both in front and behind me. I panicked as I looked around for an out. A door, another hole, anything. Anything to get me out of this nightmare. \n\nI lifted the light of my phone up, for a quick glance at the thing as it walked closer to me, almost within range for my eyes to make out what it was in the darkness. That’s when I saw it! My escape. It must be some sort of a maintenance door left open, just up to my left. Right behind the beast. \n\n“I don’t know what you want from me, but I don’t have it,” I called out as authoritatively as possible, under the given circumstances. You know, the circumstances where I was going to be devoured by two sewer monsters. \n\n“Sure you do! We’ve been waiting all day for you,” the voice said to me, in the darkness. I thought to myself, if I throw the phone, they’ll chase it thinking I’ve gone in the other direction. Then I can dive through that door. \n\nMy choice was made up. I was getting rid of the only source of light I had, to make a break for it. I turned around and threw the phone as hard as I could. \n\nWHACK\n\nI hit the other monster! As soon as I saw the phone fall, I dove for the door. Reaching for the handle in midair, I could feel a slimy hand along my arm, as it called out to me to “STOP!” There was no chance of that, though, as I plunged into the darkness, going even deeper into the sewer system. I couldn’t see in front of me until I crashed head first into something solid. My head was pounding and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. \n\n“Pick him up,” I heard a voice say as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I laid in the slimy arms of this thing as it carried me to wherever it lived under the streets of the city above. \n\nI couldn’t imagine my fate, and closed my eyes to escape the terror. \n\nI awoke on a bed, in a well-lit room. I could hear voices from the other side of the door, joking around and laughing. They sounded maniacal, with almost nothing but high pitched laughter. I quickly looked around for an escape. Above the door was a vent. Maybe I could fit, I tried to convince myself, knowing full well that there wasn’t a chance of that. “Screw it,” I whispered to myself. \n\nAs quietly as I could, I dragged the bed over to the door, as I figured it would also block them from getting into the room as I escaped. With the bed against the door, I pulled on the grate above my head and it slammed down, making more noise than I could’ve ever imagined. “This isn’t going to end well,” I said. \n\n“Looks like he’s awake,” a voice called out from the other side of the door, as their laughter came to a halt. \n\n“Let’s go!” another voice said. \n\n“He’s going to be so bummed,” a third voice said. ‘A third voice,’ I thought to myself. ‘My god how many of these monsters are there?’ I continued, the inner dialog sounding more shocked than I could process. \n\nJust then I heard a fourth voice, “Why am I gonna be bummed?”\n\n“Oh, hey, I didn’t realize you were here. We thought you went up top,” the second voice said to the newly entering fourth voice. \n\n“We’ve got some bad news,” the first voice said.\n\n“Can it wait until after we eat,” he asked. “I’m starving!”\n\nI was panicked. I scrambled to get my arms into the vent, and reached around with my hands as I tried to grab something to help pull me up, with no avail. The door finally swung open. \n\n“Hey, get down!” one of the voices called out to me, and pulled me down onto the bed. I finally saw, with all of the horror and grotesqueness of a monster from a bad nightmare, four green lizard like beasts staring at me. They all wore masks to help cover their faces, and had weapons drawn, ready to end my life without hesitation. \n\n“Please don’t hurt me,” I cried to them. \n\n“You’re not the pizza guy,” the beast in orange said. " ]	2
	[WP]Write a letter to something that's not a person, like an object or a place, as if it were.	[ "Do you remember the day I first saw you? I fell in love at first sight. You were a fixer upper - the last person had broken you so completely. But I vowed on that first day that I would take you, fix you, and be there for you. \n\nDo you remember that first night? We had nothing; no beds, no dishes. We lay on the floor in a dusty sleeping bag. We both loved you. We spent weeks, or was it months, fixing you. We tore down the walls keeping you closed. You became open, and I think, you even loved us back a little. \n\nDo you remember the day I came home with that extra little person? Watching her grow up was one of the best experiences of my life. I know that she drew all over the walls, in crayon that never really came out, but she was our daughter, and I know you loved her. \n\nNow we're going to welcome another little person, and we can't stay any more. I wish we could though. You've been our support, our place of comfort for so long. I can't believe I have to say goodbye. \n\nSo thank you, house.\nFor everything." ]	1
	[WP] You can change small bits of reality around you, but it always ends up rather silly. Literally melting. Your clothing reacting to your emotions. Throwing up rainbows. That sort of thing.	[ "I want it to stop.\n\nSchool was always hell for me. If it wasn't the gang of chavs throwing rocks at me on my journey there and back, then it was Oliver and his grunt Sam. Oliver is a short piece of trash, who's confidence comes from the big dumb ape who follows him around, doing whatever he's told to. One time while Sam was beating me up I actually managed to turn him into an ape. He crapped his pants and ran off, but I can't control this curse, and I couldn't do it again.\n\nI had friends back then, but the bullying made me withdraw from the world. Instead of going out after school to play in the park, or hang out drinking beer in some alley like normal kids do, I was at home playing video games or reading. I tried so hard to escape the world I was in that I didn't realise what I was dong to myself.\n\nThe last normal day I remember was a bad one, like most of them. I finally plucked up the courage to ask out Sarah, but I was so nervous when I got close to her that my armpits started spraying water like hoses. I slipped up in the sweat as I ran away, too embarrassed to notice that my head had caught fire as the blood rushed to my face. I ran straight home, I didn't care about class. I put on the TV in the background and finished the book I was reading. \n\nWhat would you do? Would you stay and pretend you could recover from that? My teacher's all insisted it was something I could control, or learn to if I put my mind to it. But that's bullshit! This thing had always been out of control, you don't control how you feel, and I hope now that they all see how wrong they were about it. \n\nThat last book I read must have been about zombies. I don't remember because it was twenty years ago for me. Twenty years ago that I fell asleep and my mind changed the reality I was experiencing. My power wasn't strong enough to change the world, but it was more than strong enough to change the way I'll perceive it forever.\n\nAt first I thought it was all real. That I'd woken up to a world ravaged by a viral outbreak, causing the dead to walk and hunger for living flesh. But my power was gone. Sometimes when I used to get scared I'd turn invisible, but that's never happened since. Once when I was young, I put a hole through a wall because I was pretending I was a superhero, but when I hit one of these things they just keep coming.\n\nIf I'm insane then I'm in a hospital somewhere, and if they give me pills then I don't feel them. If I'm in a coma then I'm better off in this hell than I ever was out there. Sometimes I think I want to go back. I'm totally disconnected from the real world, just like I always dreamed.\n\nIt can't be a dream, because in dreams you wake up. I wanted to be normal all my life, but now I want to be anything but that.", "Well, they've figured it out. They've learned how to neutralize my power. And being a trickster god means nothing when the one condition to your ability to warp reality has been exploited. Looks like you're that condition.\n\nI dread to think how your history will interpret my gifts, as your feeble minds can only compare it to what you call cartoon physics. I can prepare to alter the universe at will, but will only succeed if my actions have an audience who in some way, shape, or form finds them funny. \n\nAny sort of snicker usually does the trick, but my power is still proportional to the amusement of whoever sees it. It was laughably easy for me to break into those lunatic asylums and build myself a militia to feed my power. Once your armed forces managed to muzzle all my mad dogs, though, I was forced to compromise enemies from that point on. Oh, that time I was cornered by an entire platoon of Navy SEALs was my closest call yet. I had enough strength to at least conjure up the safe, but couldn't do anything else on my own. Thankfully one of those goons let out a chuckle, which let my best metallic friend break through the street and enable my escape through the subway tunnels.\n\nBut now...there's only one man standing between me and crashing the Republican Debate...you.\n\nLegends always told of a grizzled, humorless hero who would rise to defeat me, but I must say, I never did expect it to be Bob, the TSA agent. I'd be in hysterics, but my own personal enjoyment doesn't count toward my abilities. Actually, I can feel my strength fading by the second in your presence.\n\n...Come on, you must have something that has you rolling in the aisles! The irony of the situation we find ourselves in? Feeling any schadenfreude for my imminent defeat? Can I appeal to masochism?\n\n...My grip on this realm is fading...only moments left here...Are you going to make me beg for this, Bobby, old boy? Fine. If you let me in front of those cameras and humiliate Trump by pantsing him after I sneak some underwear with Jeb's face onto him, I'll let you go and tell your family to turn off the TV and don't watch. Everyone else can die of laughter while I allow them to live! \n\n...I'll even babysit for you, I'm great with kids!\n\n...Nngh...no...too late. And not even a giggle from you. I can feel myself being pulled out of your world...Curse you, Bob of the TSA...At least promise that someone will get a kick out of knowing I'm gone..." ]	2
	[WP] A disaster like San Andreas or The Day After Tomorrow from the perspective of an insurance claims agent.	[ "\"Hey Terry, you hear about that giant cluster fuck over on the western seaboard?\"\n\nTerry nodded while drinking his coffee, he pulled it away quickly a few drops landing on his tie and said \"Yeah Bob, what the hell right.\"\n\nBob smiled and nodded, waiting for another client to call in he sighed and looked at a picture of his family.\n\n\"Ha, good thing somebody thought to put \"Does not cover an act of god\" in every kind of insurance!\"\n\nBob and Terry laughed, but Bob felt bad, he looked at the picture of his family and felt sorry for everyone who lost their loved ones and property. He did feel good that he was strictly involved with home and auto insurance, the life insurance department was being overwhelmed by claims.\n\nThe end.", "'I'm sorry Mr Sanders but all our advisors are booked up for the next three months.'\n\n'But I need to speak to them about my house!'\n\n'Was it damaged in any way by the freak earthquake in London last week?'\n\n'Yes I need to talk to-'\n\n'I'm sorry sir but we don't cover acts of God...'\n\n'It wasn't an act of God, it was man made'\n\nSandra the chain smoking receptionist moved in one fluid motion, grabbing Mr Sanders with one hand and placing the sawn off shotgun into his mouth with the other.\n\nMr Sanders had anticipated this however and had already fired through her brain tissue before the barrel touched his tonsils.\n\nHe spat on her corpse as he clambered over the desk and into the offices behind. \n\nBefore he opened the door he turned his hearing aid up and made out the sound of more cocking guns.\n\n'Knew it'd be busy on a Saturday' he muttered.\n\nSanders fired three rounds from his 1941 Lee Enfield rifle through the door and heard two cries. Peaking through the bullet holes he spied two suited men crouched behind a cheap sofa while two others lay on the ground still.\n\n'Can i speak to Mr Johnson now?' he enquired through the door.\n\n'Mr Johnson is very busy on the phones right now sir, what does it concern?'\n\n'I was going to advise him to fire you two before i do it for him. Already fired two of your buddies and i think he needs to downsize his work force considerably!'\n\n'Come back tomorrow when we get the new security doors fitted.'\n\nSanders sighed and searched through his trolley for bullets to reload.\n\n'Sandwiches, no. Wallet, no. Toffees, no. Ah here we go. Should have brought my glasses.'\n\nSanders walked over to the reception desk and placed his trolley onto the wheeled computer chair and pulled the pin one of the grenades inside. Sanders flung the chair through the partially destroyed door and watched it barrel on through to the hapless suits behind the sofa killing them instantly.\n\n'Shit the letter for Gwyneth was in there.'\n\nSanders made himself a cup of tea and helped himself to the last bourbon before proceeding to the door labelled 'People's Champ'\n\n'Are you busy in there?'\n\n'I'm sure I can squeeze such a valued customer in for a quick meeting' called a voice behind the door.\n\nSanders twisted the handle with his gun pointed forward. Inside sat the man he'd come to see.\n\n'Mr Johnson i don't believe my house insurance has paid what I am owed after the recent earthquake.'\n\nMr Johnson leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment.\n\n'Mr Sanders i can understand your frustration, however as it says in our terms and conditions of the contract you signed three years ago we do not offer any compensation from homes effected by acts of god.'\n\n'Bloody hell you are big-headed aren't you, you're not god. Now as we both know that what caused the earthquake is attached to your body we can both agree no act of god was involved.'\n\n'Sanders you understand that there's no reason for me to give in, if you take me to court who's going to believe you?'\n\nSanders paused for a moment before sighing\n\n'Mr Johnson I respected you. You brought joy to people around the world, you were loved by millions and became a star. But you have used your powers for evil and that cannot stand. Your elbow is a dangerous weapon that must be contained or you will continue your disasters that begin in San Andreas.'\n\nMr Johnson laughed.\n\n'What are you going to do? Shoot me? Have you seen what Justin Lin got me to do? I can't die by a mere bullet. So what else have you got in your trolley of tricks?'\n\nSanders simply coughed. Johnson's face change from smug to fearful. A man appeared in the doorway behind Sanders, crushed his beer and stepped through.\n\nMr Johnson sat still and looked from the man to Sanders.\n\n'You will pay for this.'\n\nThe man in the doorway jumped over the desk at Mr Johnson before pulling off a stunner that caused the entire office to lift a foot off the ground before toppling down again." ]	2
	[WP] Bernie Sanders was a Mr Meeseeks tasked with becoming the president of the United States. At the inauguration he vanishes into thin air.	[ "Rick gasped in disbelief. Sanders had been a Meeseeks the whole time? He grabbed Morty and Beth and started running. Leaving Jerry to his own devices. Jerry was looking a little worried.\n\n\"Ehh, it's tii͈̒̾i̜̠̫͆ͫ͒̓͆̄̄i͎͓̰̘̥̥me to get out of here.\"\n\n\"Oh, uhh, Rick, what just happened? President Sanders just vanished like a Meeseeks.\" \n\n\"I didn't do this, Morty. The, the last time I had a Meeseeks Box was when Jeṟ͕͕̣͙̰ͩ͐̓̆̚r͈͈̹̿͂̂y fuck-fucked up on his oh so simple request to imp̰̲̦͎ͤͭr̓̉ͬ̒ͮo̗̺͈̗ͫ͆̾̃̅͋̚v͖̩̓͑ͮ͊̒̒e his golf swing Morty.\"\n\n\"Eh gee, Rick whu-whatever happened to that Meeseeks box?\"\n\n\"It's somewhere in the garage, Morty. . .\n\nRick looked at Jerry, who by now was looking very worried.\n\n *Jerry, what did you do?\"\n\n\"Uh, I might have asked for a democratic candidate to win the election...\"\n\n\"Jerry, you idiot. Do you know what you've done? Oh this is bad, Jerry, you-you've really done it now!\"\n\n\"Way to go, Jerry, you fucked this up just like you fucked our marriage up...\"\n\n\"Oh, come ooonnn* Beth, do we have to do this right now?\"\n\n\"Everyone shut up and get in the car.\"\n\nThe family made it home and by this time Jerry was feeling the Bern. He climbed the stairs, went to the bedroom, and locked the door. He could still hear his family berating him; he wasn't so sure he'd made the right request anymore. \n\nHe flopped down on the bed and rolled over to turn off the lamp. As he did so he found an envelope with his name on it. He tore open the envelope and pulled out the paper from inside. It read;\n\n>Hi Jerry, \n>\n>It's taken a long time, but here we are. You wanted a winning democratic candidate, it looks like that's about to happen. I wanted to remind you of something another Meeseeks once told you.\n>\n>We Meeseeks aren't supposed to exist for very long. When we stay here long enough, things get weird. \n>\n>I've been around for two years, Jerry. Two years. I've spent that time setting up a plan which will see these United States of America through the next four years. \n>\n>Things are about to get weird.\n>\n>\n>Regards,\n>\n>Meeseeks Sanders\n\n\"Oh crap.\" muttered Jerry.", "Yes, he did it, Bernie Sanders, a Mr. Meeseeks won the presidency. Here is how he did it. He promised everything to everyone. The republicans got theirs when the FBI arrested Hillary Clinton two days before the democratic convention. Bernie won the nominee by 3 delegates over Debbie Wasserman Schultz. He promised free college to the millennial, free healthcare with no deductibles for all and he promised to break up the banks and big pharma by executive order. He promised to tear down all fences at the Mexican border and promised no strings attached free green cards for all illegal aliens in the USA. Finally, he soothed BLM by promising their lives matter, and they could block roads and malls any time they wanted. He won 75% of the popular vote over Sarah Palin, who was nominated in a brokered republican convention. It was the best of times. Sadly, at the inauguration, he vanished into thin air.", "You guys, Bernie Sanders disappeared! He's missing? No, he disappeared at the inauguration, on stage, in front of everyone, on camera.\" Let me see it on youtube.\nRyan watches Bernie Sanders disappear on a youtube video and says \"I'm not\nfalling for this shit, someone just edited this, uploaded it to youtube and told idiots like you to come in the room freaking out and make me watch it.\" Rich is stunned by Ryan's stupidity, \"go to a news site\" he yells. Ryan opens the new york times, fox news, huffington post, reddit, 4chan, and facebooks and everyone was talking about it. After a long silence Ryan looks at Rich and says \"Bernie Sanders was a Mr.Meseeks, there's no other way to explain it.\" ", "\"I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.\"\n\nBernie Sanders said those hallowed words, and vanished in a poof of smoke. The Secret Service swarmed the area, looking for any trace of the new president. There was nothing to be found but his clothes.\n\nImmediately, Bernie took over several presidential trivia facts: shortest term of any president, and the oldest too. For those tidbits at least, he would be remembered for centuries to come.\n\nMeanwhile, Hillary Clinton sat laughing in the Oval Office. Her plan to become president has succeeded - she might not win the vote, but between her and Bernie, one could. And it would have been foolish for Bernie to accept anyone but her as his vice president, wouldn't it?", "\"Holy shit what a stupid idea,\" said Rick.\n\n\"I...I..I dont know about that Rick. I thought it was pretty clever...\" Stuttered Morty.\n\n\"Well, thats because you are a moron, Morty. We aren't going to make a Meeseeks try and run for President. What part of give them simply attainable tasks didnt you understand?\"", "\"Dammit Morty!\" Rick shouted in his usual drunken stupor.\n\n\"Wha-wha-what Rick? What did I do?\"\n\n\"What did you do Morty?\" Rick shouted, \"You remember whe-when we sent that Mr. Meeseeks back in time Morty?\"\n\n\"Yea Rick, d-d-didn't he win the election? You rigged it anyway right?\"\n\n\"Of course I rigged it you little shit. The only problem is that he fucking disappeared right after his swearing in.\" Rick mumbled through his incoherent burping.\n\n\"Oh geez Rick, what happened?\"\n\n\"You happened you turd-bra-aain. You mustn't have been specific enough when we sent him back in time and now there's 40 some years of hard work down the drain.\"\n\n\"Aw man Rick I'm really sorry.\"\n\n\"You better be you absent minded piece of sh-shit Morty. Now we have to get anothe-eer time crystal from Dimension K-159. And you know what that means.\"\n\n\"Do I have to put seeds in my butt again Rick?\"\n\n\"Damn right you do.\"\n\nEDIT: Added some burps ( thanks for the feedback u/Freyzi ) and punctuation fixes. Thanks to everyone who upvoted!" ]	6
	[WP] The Yeti saves you from death in the frozen wilderness. He is extremely intelligent, but cannot risk having his existence known.	[ "It was a stare-down. \n\n\nA stare-down between me and the big hairy brute in front of me. I look straight into his eyes partially hidden beneath his large bundles of brown hair—or fur shall I say? He is a big creature, towering over eight feet and possessing huge strong arms. A big hairy brute. \n\n\nActually, I take that back. He is no brute, for he saved my life when I was dangling off a precipice hundreds of meters over an icy canyon. Surely, I would have died, but he picked me up from the mouth of Death. Why? \n\n\nI would have thanked him and be on my merry way, yet he wouldn’t let me go. This beast says to me that he felt responsible in saving those in danger yet he must not let me go. \n\n\n“Why can’t you let me go?” I said to the beast, never losing sight of his gaze. \n\n\nHe looked back, with a kind of warmth in his eyes; it was looked human even. Could there be a human in there? But surely, this beast is no human…he is a beast! \n\n\n“I cannot let other people know of me. If I let you go, you’ll tell your friends and word will spread. Soon enough, hunters and poachers will come for me, making my peaceful days toilsome and dangerous,” he explained. \n\n\nI was taken aback. He was reasoning with me! \n\n\n“So you want me to stay so I won’t tell anyone about you. But I can promise you I won’t tell anybody. I swear on my family’s graves I won’t tell anyone,” I said. \n\n\nHe seemed to think about it but shook his head, “No, I can’t let you go.” \n\n\nI continued staring into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or ulterior motives. I found neither. \n\n\n“I guess I will leave whether you like it or not,” I said as a matter-of-factly. \n\n\n“I won’t let you,” he answered calmly. \n\n\nThe bone-chilling winds continue to blow across our faces, picking up snow and sending them in to tiny whirlpools before disappearing into the air. Out of my peripheral vision, I felt the emptiness of the ice lands we were in. Snow stretched for miles on end, with little else in sight other than occasional pine trees and the huge mountains in the far backdrop of this place. \n\n\nI suddenly came to a realization. The beast is lonely and needs a friend! He saved my life because he hoped I would stay and be a friend. I felt empowered with the new knowledge I deducted. Yet, I knew that there was no way I could stay out here. I had a family to go back to and a girlfriend whom I love dearly… \n\n\n“I can be your friend,” I told the beast. His face softened and a huge smile appeared on his face. Then he was leaping around and screaming, “Raa-aaa-aaah. Raa-aaa-aaaaaaaah.” Clearly, I hit a nerve with him—a good nerve. \n\n\nI ended up teaching him how play tag with him and did that for some time. Then he try me onto his shoulders and carried me around the ice lands. Upon his shoulders, I could see my town, a small speck in the distance. \n\n\nThe beast grew tired and wanted to sleep. I agreed, for I didn’t think I could go on any longer trying to keep up with the beast’s seemingly inexhaustible energy. We set up camp near a pine tree and he made a hole in the snow to snuggle in, and made one for me too. \n\n\n“Go on and sleep. I just need to take a leak,” I lied. The beast was fast asleep and I breathed a sigh of relief. It’s time to get out of here. ", "\"Fleshy one, your fate is been forever altered. I could not in good conscience watch you perish, though neither your mountaineering skills nor your equipment show much in the way of wisdom or forethought. Now, you must become my apprentice. Once every four hundred years, a man is chosen to learn the ways of the Yeti. You will also be expected to perform duties related to laundry, kitchen cleaning, and my toilet. For this is the price of your life.\"\n\n\"You are right, white one. My fate has changed. But so has yours, for my Master decrees.\"\n\n\"What caddish nerve! Such a green-eared whipling dares to speak to me, the Yeti, the Abominable Snowman, White Lord of the Himalayas, Terror of Tibet, Plague of Nepal, Lord Commander General of the People's Liberation Ar...eh... my blood on the snow. The day...it has come.\"\n\nI leaned in close, his bandersnatch claws already succumbed to chemically-induced torsion and his wide red mouth open in a pre-rictus smile. I smile back, just as wide, and whisper, \"Bigfoot sends his regards.\"" ]	2
Bonus points for tanks, because tanks.	[WP] The Continental Army is defending Manhattan against the first waves of the Royal Military. The narrator is a time traveler who delivers one modern weapon to George Washington. What is it?	[ "Washington was sitting at his desk, writing orders, logs among other things. It was the perfect opportunity to approach him. He was alone, vulnerable and consumed in his work. The Royal army was quickly approaching and he would do anything to gain an edge on the brits. \nI neared the man and he took notice of me. \"What is your business here?\" I stayed silent, thinking what I should tell a man about to win a war. I wasn't here to give him a weapon per se, I was to give him the means to one. This plan. To make the U.S win this war outright, through pure annihilation of the enemy forces. \nI told him \"I'm here to give you the means to victory.\" The weapon that was chosen had to be something simple. Something they could produce. We found something. Something that could destroy the enemy, yet simple enough to produce here. \nWe chose Phosgene. A lethal battle gas, the reason for most chemical deaths in WWI. Simple. Just pass Carbon Monoxide and Chlorine gas through carbon. Easy to do. \nHe looked amused. Probably thinking \"He must be wrong in the head.\" I showed him the gas. I had a few grenades filled with the stuff with me. I told him \"One of these\" I laid the grenade on his table. \"When flung at the enemy, will take out more than fifty men.\" He was startled, confused. Who would come and give him weapons this powerful? I gave him a few notes. \"In these papers are the instructions to make these.\" He looked even more confused. \"Why are you giving me these, these \"grenades\"?\". \"Because, George, someone wants you to win this war.\" I left his desk and walked away. He called out after me, but I had already warped away. \n\nWashington went back to his desk, looking at the grenade, wondering. \"We can at least try this.\" He thought. The war lasted less than a year.", " With orders from President Clitoris to establish the boundary of the United States farther north, as opposed to the United Sates' Pennsylvania territory's shared boundary with New New York, perhaps giving George Washington the upper hand, this time, will, in effect, give this country the space it has deserved all these years. I only hope my \"patriotism\" is enough to safely bring me back to my own time, while also communicating my jail sentence of fucking course.\n Now, I am on the rooftop of some old inm. A few towns over, where I had ported in, I found a gang of loyalist roughnecks with fine horses loosely tied up outside of the bar. I am naked, mind you, so, in search of clothes, I step into the bar and throttled this dude in the face so hard his nose broken and he spit blood into my face. Some landed in my mouth, so I rinsed it out with some water. His friends tried to help, but I told them I was gay, and then, after they stared quixotically, I said I sought sexual relations with men, and I was the only one left in the tavern minus the innkeeper. I ordered a whiskey for myself, the man I fucked up, and the innkeeper. The innkeep took one shot, and I two. I also took that dude's clothes, because time-travel necessitates nudity, duh. \n Anyway, after buying another round for the innkeeper and myself, I was able to interrogate him easily about the time and place of tomorrow's battle. \n\n\"When is the battle tomorrow?\" I asked.\n\n\"Seven PM, two towns over. A place you might like.\" The innkeeper snarled.\n\n\"Aye?\" \n\n\"MANhattan. A pun.\" He said.\n\n\"Fuck you.\" I cursed. \n\n\"Aye, would you?\" The older chubby man in an apron said softly before winking. I was disgusted, but I kissed the dude on his bald dome and charmed my way into \"borrowing\" a horse. I told him that I would meet him on the shore by the ship in two days from now, or whatever, just drop it. People in this year are so malleable, but at least I found a democrat (republicans technically I think, nowadays).\n\nThe next day I had reached George's army's camp in the water-side town of New York, specifically in the Manhattan region as Reginald was explaining over our drinks. Long story short, I find Washington in his camp, and the dude is seriously a fboy. \n\n\"Hello General Washington, my name is Bassanio.\" I garnished. \n\n\"I love your name, boy. Damned if the British don't need another reference or stakehold in this army. Are a loyalist son?\" Before I could answer or explain who or what or where I was from, or something, George grabs my dick and balls all with the same hand simultaneously and this guy just starts squeezing.\n\n\"General, please, let go, they're going to...\" I uppercut this motherfucker and knock four white front teeth of his out. \n\nSpitting out blood and teeth as he get up from the ground he had just found, Washington says,\" Alas! An American! God knows you're not a Brit. They care more about their pride than they balls and dick. They would have taken the pain like twits! I'll probably replace those with wood from my fathers cherry tree that I admired to him I cut down.\" His energy and eccentricism replenished my vim, aided in part by the pleasure sensors that went off as my dick was mercilessly squeezed, like I like. \n\n\"Fuckin' A, General.\"\n\n\"A what?\" He said.\n\n\"Nevermind.\" I said, and then I explained to General Washington in lavish detail about who I was, how I came to be there, and to what ends I had hoped he formed the country after I was to set him up for the biggest coup d'é·tat Ollie-op ever bestowed. No, actually it went, \"I am from the future, and I have a big warship that is going to fuck shit up on your behalf, so \"our\" future country can be bigger than it was in my time. \n\n\"What?\" He cackled and laughed, still bleeding from the mouth. He took a swig off brown liquid from a leathery looking sac with fur on it. \n\n\"Which part did you not understand?\" \n\n\"Yes.\" He said, before slumping over in his saddle, because he was on a horse, and being caught and held upright by the five naked women tasked with following the general around and fanning him with flexible metal sheets. This dude was nuts, I am so confused about how this thing had ever worked before I got here.\n\n\"Sir, the General is asleep.\" Informed me via one of Washington's entourage that wasn't one of the naked ladies, but like another General or Admiral or something. \n\n\"Dude seems drunk.\"\n\n\"Lit as if a paraffin candle, sir. \" He said. \n\n\"So, this ship.\"\n\n\"I was listening before.\" He said. \n\nThis time, I explained everything. Since the peyote had begun to wear off, peyote is another crucial part of time-travel, by the way, my explanation was clear and thorough.\n\nAfter totally understanding me, the entourage member led me to the shore, and, to his surprise, waiting for us, parked near what I know to be Roosevelt Island, was the USS New Jersey, an Iowa class battle-ship with a larger arsenal than any other army would have for 150 years all cocked-stuffed into a single ship. 20 mini-guns, 15 jetplanes below deck, nine large ordinance guns, four TOW missile launchers, torpedoes, and, on the deck, 20 M1 Abrams tanks. It had drones, too, but the NJ's Captain was stingy. \n\n\"How do we do this?\" The entourage dude asked me as we stared at the giant war ship, already honing in on the redcoat targets in the sector. \n\n\"We don't, just wait 20 minutes.\" 20 minutes later, just as night begun to fall, the ship let lose. Staring at the army of redcoat regulars from a nice vantage point, just beyond where modern day Washington Heights is located, a fine mist began to infiltrate every particle of air. Dull screams could be heard in between loud thuds. It didn't take very long. One mini-gun spit more bullets in ten minutes than members total of King George's army. \n\nAfter the onslaught, Washington now awake, we traipsed through the battlefield that used to be the camp of the redcoats, and were astonished; at least these dues were, not me because I see this stuff all the time, anyway, there were lots of craters, and dead bodies, and the whole redcoat army died, and George claimed victory in New York that day.\n\nTaking a quick respite, I woke up the next morning and met Reginald on the beach, as promised. We left back for his tavern together, and made it back to the newly re-vamped United States of America. \n\n\n\n\n", "\"Greetings, General Washington! I am from the future!\" exclaimed the man, who was carrying a significantly oversized box on a cart he pulled behind him with significant effort. He waved in a friendly manner as several of his soldiers escorted him.\n\nFrom the future? Surely such a thing is impossible, thought Washington.\n\n\"I bring you a gift! A weapon which could destroy all your enemies, right here in this box I have with me.\" he announced triumphantly.\n\n\"What is this weapon, sir? Nothing we know of could even hope to do that!\" Washington was in disbelief.\n\n\"Ah, but you don't know of this! And nothing is impossible if we can travel through time. This,\" he said, beckoning for several men to help him lift the box off the cart and open it, \"is called a nuke. Incredibly powerful. You simply detonate it anywhere, and all your tr... cough enemies will be obliterated. You'll be needing it in the following days; in our future, your men are slaughtered and you only escape by the skin of your teeth. I'm here to stop that!\"\n\n\"...If this weapon truly does what you say it does; then this would turn the war around! You, sir, would you stay here to assist us in manners related to the weapon and the future?\" Washington enquired.\n\n\"Gladly!\" the man smiled.\n\n----------\n\nLATER THAT DAY:\n\n\"You there, where is the man who came in with the weapon we will use against the British? They must be moving on us now!\" The soldier in question looked nervous.\n\n\"Well, you see... he... disappeared!\" the soldier muttered out.\n\n\"How will we use it now!\" Washington exclaimed, but the soldier looked up at that moment.\n\n\"Actually, there was a note. It said it was already armed, just look at the... thing and you can tell.\"\n\nWashington opened the lid, seeing a bright red display. It appeared to be showing numbers on it and had a green switch saying ACTIVE. Every second the number got lower. General Washington assumed that at 0, it would activate.\n\n03... 02... 01... 00.\n\n---------\n\nINSIDE THE BRITISH CAMP:\n\nA lone man, wearing strange clothes rides on a horse with the British Army, away from New York.\n\n\"Any second now...\" he said to the General.\n\nboom\n\nA red fireball erupted up over the city. The man was glad he managed to get the British far away enough from the bomb before it detonated.\n\n\"God save the Queen.\" he whispered.", "General Washington awoke and immediately turned his head to regard the table in the center of his bed chamber \n\nBy god they are there. It wasn't a dream.\n\n----\n\nThe strangely garbed man with the comic accent had walked in out of the rain and requested an audience with the general, claiming to be a friend of America with an item of great value as a gift.\n\n\"While depressing this portion here, and speaking your order here, the man holding the devices twin will hear your words precisely and immediately up to three miles distance.\"\n\nGeneral Washington knew the man had to be some sort of maniac or drunkard, but out of sheer curiosity of the strange device he took the twin device in his hand, at which time the queerly dressed man removed himself to the adjoining room. Mesmerized by the strange texture of the object and not recognizing what sort of wood or metal the contraption was constructed from, he slowly drew the device towards his eyes for a closer look.\n\n\"#kssshhk long live liberty #ksssshhhk#\" the contraption said to him at the same time a small fire was kindled within to create a tiny eerie green illumination. So startled was he that General Washington dropped the contraption on the floor and stared at it in horror for an indeterminate amount of time.\n\nWhen he gathered his wits and his courage, Washington drew his sword, intending to wring from the sorcerer his secrets but upon opening the door to the adjoining windowless room, it was empty save for the other device and a tiny book the likes he had never seen. A piece of literature surely containing all the languages known to man with diagrams and directions on the devices functions. So small was the print that he could not decipher it.\n\nAfter picking up the devices and placing them on his table General Washington had retired to bed, fearing he was struck with fever or that the fatigue of campaign had driven him mad.\n\n---\n\nTurning the small hand crank protruding from the side he could see the fire within light up the device. \n\nSorcery or not, this changes everything.\n\n" ]	4
	[WP] "You are the main character, after all."	[ "\"Oh! Yes, you're right. So I can't die!\"\n\n\"Uh, well no. You have to die.\"\n\n\"What!?\"\n\n\"You're the main character. You have to die, in one form or another. Maybe it's a physical death, maybe a metaphorical one.\"\n\n\"No! No, no, no, no, this can't happen to me. I'm a main character! I'm supposed to be the hero, I get to survive and go home after the job is done.\"\n\n\"Again, no. Maybe your death is the death of your innocence. It's a big world out there, man. Lots of freaky stuff. You'll have to go through it all and come out a changed person. You'll die and be reborn into someone new.\"\n\n\"I can't believe this... this is a nightmare. I don't want to change, I like it right where I am.\"\n\n\"Hey man, at least you probably won't die in the end.\"\n\n\"Well, I... do you think so?\"\n\n\"Sure. This ain't no tragedy or anythin'. It's a pretty simple hero's journey. Every hero's gotta go through some heavy crap, but think on the bright side, you'll be a hero! You are the hero.\"\n\n\"Right, yeah... yeah! I'm the hero. I can do this. What am I supposed to do again?\"\n\n\"Right now, you need to cross a rope bridge over a hundred foot fall into shark-infested waters.\"\n\n\"Are you kidding me?\"\n\n\"Nah, man. There's a trapped princess in a cave on the other side of the bridge or somethin' like that. You'll meet the main villain there, but don't sweat it, you're still the hero. You'll come out alive.\"\n\n\"Princess? Villain? I'm supposed to meet the villain just like that? But it's so early!\"\n\n\"Well, you'll have to face the other villain first, which is your terrible fear of heights. You can do it though. You're still the hero, man!\"\n\n\"You know what, I quit.\"\n\n\"You quit!?\"\n\n\"I quit! I'm done being the main character. Screw this, I'm going home.\"\n\n\"No! No, no, no, you can't do that! The hero never quits, he always goes through with this! Stop, please, you gotta rescue the princess! If you don't, the entire world is doomed to eternal darkness or some crazy crap like that.\"\n\n\"No way, I'm not falling for that. This world isn't dependent upon the life of one stupid princess. If she's so important, some other idiot can go save her. Heck, why don't you do it?\"\n\n\"Me? I can't do it, I'm allergic to rope!\"\n\n\"What kind of bullcrap reason is that? Just wear latex gloves.\"\n\n\"Latex gloves? What kind of genre or time period do you think this is? This ain't no mystery sci-fi thriller.\"\n\n\"Yeah, whatever. I'm out of here. Have fun with your rope bridge and sharks.\"", "Detective Brown looked the woman from her head to her wonderfully tight dress to her toe.\n\n\"And I suppose I'm the gratuitously sexualised romantic interest. Hi, I'm Darlene.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\" Brown asked, confused and embarrassed about having stared.\n\n\"I knew you were the guy when you started questioning people. In this club, no one ever does anything intellectual. It's all sex and drugs in here, cause it's a club. How original.\"\n\nThey were cramped in a filthy toilet cubicle. The blond woman had emerged from the raving crowd and told him to follow her.\n\n\"Don't get any ideas, James Bond. We're only here to escape the noise. We can't escape him, anyway.\"\n\n\"Him? Do you mean Don Lombardo, the mob boss?\"\n\n\"Huh? No. I do have information about that douche, though. He gave me that,\" she pointed vaguely to the ceiling. \"Very clever, aren't we? Give the woman exposition, information, AND boobs. It's a full package.\"\n\n\"Who's this \"he\" you keep mentioning?\"\n\n\"The writer,\" Darlene whispered, as if it was discreet. \"I figured we were in a short story of sort. All the tropes are there. Not even a good one, judging by the style. Probably a wanna-be.\"\n\nA few drops of strange liquid dripped onto her hair from the ceiling.\n\n\"Oh, real classy, now,\" she said, annoyed.\n\n\"You're not making sense,\" Brown said. \"Anyway, I need information on Lombard-\"\n\n\"Snap out of it, Poirot. That kind of mafia boss won't show up until act two. Not until after the sex scene. This isn't real, stupid.\"\n\n\"But- I'm a real detective. I have a license!\"\n\n\"Gosh, they make characters so dumb these days. Do you remember what you ate for lunch? When's the last time you peed?\"\n\n\"Uh- I... I don't remember.\"\n\n\"It's fiction, Juno. Look around you - none of this is real! It's the model of the Death Star. The guy in the E.T suit. Chris Pratt's abs.\"\n\n\"My God...\"\n\nThe detective stood still for half a minute, before giving in.\n\n\"How do we get out?\"\n\n\"We can't. You're the main character, and I'm the booty call. The writer won't let us quit, so we have to finish the story. But then we'd cease to exist. I doubt this is the kind of writer that gets sequel deals...\"\n\nWhile Darlene contemplated, Brown held his head in defeat, as the facts caught up with him.\n\n\"I- I can't believ- My life is not real?\"\n\n\"Shut up, let me think.\"\n\n\"What about my wife and kid, were they real? They were murdered by gangsters...\"\n\n\"Tragic backstory. Shocking. Maybe if we killed the writer...\"", "Thomas thought to himself, after so many events from the pilot-light related fire in his home, the man-eating fireflies in the woods, to the raiders who only raid refrigerators and poachers with banana-sized rocket launchers, there is no way he should have survived if he wasn't some miraculous protagonist on a journey for a particular purpose. For what purpose, he was not aware, neither was he ever properly informed.\n\nAs he stood atop the rooftop of his office tower, the wind blew his worn, tattered jacket backwards like he's a hero in a triumphant pose. He felt great. Untouchably great. He gently ran his finger through his hair and jumped. Like a sugar glider, he landed a building not too far from where he was. He thought to himself again, this is incredible, oh my god, I am such a hot potato.\n\nGracefully, he pressed the useless button on the crosswalk to get a coffee from the attractive barista who usually wears a green apron, a turtleneck and nothing underneath. There was no traffic, not on a Saturday morning. Thomas decided to walk across before the light turns green, because afterall, he was the hero of the story. He was instantly flattened by a hover bus, which accidentally reached lightspeed because the open-door button was too close to it.\n\nThus, ending the story of Thomas, who will forever be remembered as the vertical topless burger no lettuce go nuts with the ketchup. The lesson he taught was, no matter how heroic Thomas thought he may have been, a story is only a series of event coincidentally intertwined and consequently end in the way it does. A wrong move on his part will only cut his story short. You don't believe me? Look at Thomas. Remember Thomas the naan lightly roasted with tobasco sauce.", "\"I am the main character after all\" Livian said. \n\nHe walked off of set with the director yelling at him from the back of the movie set. \n\n\"I am the main character.\" Jane repeated, as she grabbed the remote from her brother and changed the channel. \n\nHe always watched that 'Living with Livian' show. The main character was such a bother, she couldn't stand him. \n\n\"I am the main character -if you really think about it.\" Masor said to his friend Rob. \n\n\"But if you're the main character how can you write from the perspective of this girl Uhhhh -Jane. How can you be sure to capture her thoughts?\" Rob replied. \n\n\"I am the main character, after all...\" John murmured to the empty room. \n\nHe'd woken from a dream where he was an author named Mansor, which is ironic as he always hated writing. Was It a sign? \n\nDarkness. \n\nDeacons body slammed back to earth like lightning. \n\nThe drugs had worn off and he looked around him his breathing tense and rapid. He reached forward, running a palm through the soft wool of his blanket letting the ticklish fabric dance along his pores. \n\n\"It wasn't real... I am the main character.\" He huffed, his thumping heart fluttered causing him to draw a hand to his chest. \n\nAm I back this time? He wondered. \n\nThe answer hung in the air, unanswered. ", "\"Where am I?\"\n\n\"I can't tell you where you are, but I can tell you what you are.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" \n\n\"Whatever you wanna call me, god, buddah whatever. Not fussy.\"\n\nThe brown haired man in a formal suit got up from lying on the floor to greet the mysterious man that called himself god.\n\n\"So I'm dead?\"\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\n\"Yup? That's it, I'm done?\"\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\n\"And this is heaven?\"\n\nThe dead man glanced around at the white space they were occupying.\n\n\"If you want to call it that, that's what it is.\"\n\n\"Where is everyone else? Is this like the waiting room to get to heaven? Like you explain how it works and then we go up to the pearly gates?\"\n\n\"If you want it to be like that... then I guess that's what we're doing.... Shall we walk while I explain then?\"\n\n\"........okay\"\n\nThe dead man and God walk. \n\n\"Is it this way?\"\n\n\"If we're going this way, then yes.\"\n\n\"So where is everyone?\"\n\n\"There is no everyone.\"\n\n\"But I left my kids!\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"What do you mean no?\"\n\n\"Well... you are the main character after all.\"\n\n\"What? What are you saying, this is absurd.\"\n\n\"It's just me and you.\"\n\nThe dead man stopped abruptly and stared at God.\n\n\"I have a family that I left!\"\n\n\"They are all you, it's funny, I like telling you this each time. I get a different reaction everytime because you're a different person. It's really quite interesting.\"\n\n\"So I get like, what, reincarnated?\"\n\n\"Yup\"\n\n\"As everyone?\"\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\n\"That's ever lived?\"\n\n\"mm hmmm\"\n\n\"..... even-\"\n\n\"even hitler.\"\n\nThe dead man continues to walk with god.\n\n\"This is nuts!.... SO wait where are we going now?\"\n\n\"You can stay up here if you like. For a little bit, but you will have to go back\"\n\n\"Will I remember any of this?\"\n\n\"No\"\n\n\".... okay.... send me back in Gman!\"\n\n", "\"Me?\" he exclaimed, \"The outsider in all of life, the main character in this stage?\"\n\n\"As much as you've been outside of it all for long enough, you have to stand out, and it turns out luck is on your side.\"\n\nHe stood there stunned, unsure, contemplative, and on top of it all, frozen in indecision. Worried he would do something impulsive, rash, he statued there in the empty hall way that morning, with the sun glowing bright red outside in the early hours of the day, with scattered clouds, the silver linings had shown. Most mornings it would have rained hard at that time of the year. The sky had cleared.\n\nFinally after a while, he spoke, but nothing came out. Mouth wide open, he appeared to mouth the words of acceptance, but it drew blank.\n\n\"You there?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I'm here.\"\n\n\"So what do you think?\"\n\n\"I don't know. What do you think I should do?\"\n\n\"I think you should take the opportunity as a chance to grow, luck has put you on centre stage, leave the ruins of your past behind you, look up at see the day break, the new horizon, the future. This could be the big turning point in your life, you have to know that through it all you'll emerge stronger each time you pass through stages like the ones in the past few months in life.\"\n\n\"I'll go for it then, I haven't got much to lose, but It's a risk I'm willing to take...\"\n\n\"Okay. Don't think too much okay?\"\n\n\"I'll try.\"\n\n\"Good, I know you can make it through this stage.\"\n\nThe past few months had been rough for him, often past through the months leading up to today, he found himself stuck in a hole, in the middle of the road. Exposed to the elements, to the nature, he was strong to make it through it all. Ever since his break up, he had a lot of trouble, his grades had slumped, he lost many friends, but one person stood by him through all the hard times, that person was Matt.\n\nAt home it wasn't much better for him, he suffered through argument after argument with his family over his grades, and they never seemed to realise the person he truly was, the passion inside him. He often found himself internalising a lot of his darker thoughts, and Matt was always a temporary fix for many of them. Counselling was unaffordable for them, while his parents spent most of their time working.\n\nHere we are today then, when he finally was given the opportunity of his lifetime to gain support. The main character of a system in which he felt as if he never fit in, but finally noticing that all along many things had gone the way for him, the main character for the attention of the audience. With opportunity coming along constantly, with each passing one missed because of his internalisation. But this one was different, he was the centre of it all...", "\"Wait, Axel! Oh God . . . This can't be happening.\"\n\nI could only fall to my knees as I arrived at my friend's side. I put my hand on his shoulder and he looked up at me.\n\nHis eyes were filled with all sorts of emotions, many of which I could barely comprehend, but the only ones that mattered, pain, fear, disappointment, were all there. The dark red spot on his shirt slowly grew wider and wider as he tried to sit up and greet me. He couldn't though. All he could manage was to lift his head slightly off the ground.\n\nHe smiled at me. With what must have been a considerable amount of effort he raised his arm and put his hand on mine. I couldn't understand. Why was he smiling? Why was he looking at me like it was just another day? This wasn't a casual meet-up at a bar. \n\nWhy wasn't he crying? Why wasn't he cursing his fate? Why wasn't he asking me to help him?\n\n\"Louis,\" He whispered. Even that tiny utterance strained his broken body. \"Why the long face, buddy?\"\n\n\"Why? That's obvious, right?\" Tears threatened to burst out and stream down my face. I couldn't hide it. \"You're hurt, man. You're hurt really bad.\" My voice cracked.\n\n\"Yeah . . . No shit.\" Blood built up in his throat with a pathetic attempt at a laugh. His body heaved to clear his windpipe.\n\n\"This shouldn't have happened. You weren't supposed to get hurt like this. You're supposed to be the hero, but I . . . I couldn't keep you safe.\"\n\n\"And why would you need to do that?\"\n\n\"That was my job, wasn't it? I'm your sidekick. I'm the supporting character that makes sure you make it to the final scene. But . . . I failed, huh?\" My lip shook violently.\n\n\"Don't . . . be an idiot.\" He lifted his hand and made clenched his fist. Like a slow motion scene from a boxing movie he brought that weak fist up to my chin. \"That's wrong, Lou. You didn't fail at all.\"\n\n\"But . . . !\" I couldn't accept that kind of response. I wouldn't. He was trying to make me feel better. That's what the hero does, right? He's the best of the best, even on the brink of death.\n\n\"Just shut up for a second and let me--\" He coughs loudly. \"Just . . . let me talk. I probably don't have a lot of time left.\"\n\nI shut my mouth. As crazy as this was. As much as I wanted to cry and shout and tell Axel how unfair this all was, I gave him the opportunity to speak his mind one last time. After all, that's what the supporting cast is supposed to do.\n\n\"Louis. I'm not a hero, like you say I am.\" I wanted to interrupt him there, but he slowly put his had on my shoulder and squeezed. His grip was so weak. \"Everything we've been through . . . up to now . . . that's been us. The two of us together. We watched each other's backs, and got each other into trouble the whole way through, but there was never a doubt in my mind about one thing. \n\nI was the one supporting you.\n\nFrom the start, I rushed ahead. I triggered all the traps. I started all the fights. I cleared the way so that you might make it to the end. To be honest . . . I really hoped we would make it there together, like always. But . . . I guess that just couldn't happen.\" \n\nAxel took several long, deep breathes. \n\n\"I . . . I don't understand,\" I said, \"What are you trying to say?\"\n\n\"Jeez, Lou. Do I have to spell it out for you? I'm the support, man. It's you. You're the one that has to make it through to the end. You have to be the one to save the day.\" His eyes reddened as a painful coughing fit interrupted. \"You . . . You are the main character, after all.\"\n\nI bit my lip.\n\nI fought back the tears, but I couldn't stop the powerful flow. My face was soaked in seconds.\n\nI used the last of my resolve to hold in the choking sobs.\n\nAxel slowly rested his hand on his chest. The red circle was enormous. \"So, there you go.\" He closed his eyes and chuckled to himself. \"This is your story, Louis. Don't you ever doubt that, alright? If it's you . . . I know you can do it, so . . . so go get'em, bro.\" \n\n\"Axel . . .\" I tried to find the words. I wanted to tell him that I would try. I would give it my all for him, and for everyone else as well.\n\n\". . .\" But I couldn't make a sound.\n\nAs the sound of his breathing became quieter and quieter, I watched him. I looked at his face and burned it into my memory. I wanted to bare witness to this hero's life, even the end of it. That was my job.\n\nNo matter what he, or anyone else said, he was a hero. Even if I had to take on that role, or if I already fit the bill from the start, it wouldn't change that fact.", "\"It seems that you find my proof sufficient.\" said the squat, bespectacled man.\n\nI nod mutely to the stranger, unable to form words in my current state of shock.\n\n\"Now we must move along. God would prefer we remain on schedule.\"\n\n\"So if you're not God, you're...\"\n\n\"Herm. Second undersecretary to the vice multiuniversal administrator. Department of Creational Affairs.\" He straightened out his slightly wrinkled suit.\n\n\"Well...\"\n\n\"It's all yours. Every last bit. Want riches? Take it. Want power? Enforce it. Rearrange the stars into a rude shape for all I care. Reversing gravity may result in mild discomfort, though.\"\n\n\"But what do I do?\"\n\n\"Doesn't really matter. Your personal universe is due for demolition in only 1.3 billion years anyhow.\"\n\n" ]	8
	[WP] Books and movies are now a literal translation of the title. So Grapes of Wrath would be about some pissed off grapes. Write a chapter from a book of your choice.	[ "A short opening to Beasts of no Nation:\n\nThe beasts were depressed. They wanted to play football on the international stage but had no national eligibility. Which was a problem as the inter-species World Cup was less than a month away.\n\nThe hulking commander, a dark man with a dark past, was in charge of all birth certificates in the universe. Agu, the brave little beast with a brave little heart, was mentally scarred from some previous, incidents, with the commander trying to play for a national team, but access to his birth certificates had been denied unless he committed a special service to the commander, which he didn't do.\n\nAll Agu wanted, was to play ball.\n\nThe script said to kill the commander and grab the birth certificates for each and every beast and run to play for the national team. But this is the real world, and so nobody followed the script.", "\"I had a really great time tonight.\" The words were clear enough, but Jeff could barely comprehend them. His focus was solely on her lips in that moment.\n\nHow do I get my lips to hers and not look like a giant nerd? This was the end of their third date and he was still struggling to muster up the courage to finally make a move.\n\nRealizing it had been way too long since he made a response, Jeff panicked \"Uhhh, so have a goodnight. I'll see you soon...\"\n\nDisappointed, Holly's whole body seemed to just sag down. Suddenly it clicked in Jeff's head that she's been waiting for the exact same thing.\n\nGrabbing her shoulders he jerked her body towards his and kissed her as she was yelping in surprise from the sudden move.\n\nJeff powered through the awkwardness and kept his lips on her's. She quickly recovered and started kiss him back.\n\nFinally! I did it!!! Jeff thought excitedly. This moment felt like it could last forever.\n\nThen Jeff realized it was actually lasting a really long time, possibly too long. He pulled his lips away from her's with a giant grin on his face. \"So yeah, like I said, have a good night.\"\n\n-Excerpt from \"The Long Kiss Goodnight\"\n\n", "\"Asuna! I swear, if you keep posting pictures of your 'Lambent Light' rapier onto DeviantArt, I'll shut off--\"\n\n\"Kazuto-kun... not like you're much better! *pulls up the feed of 'Kirito,' showing off his various poses with his dual 'Elucidator' and 'Dark Repulsor' swords.\"\n\n\"OK! OK! I'll just post them into Tumblr instead...\"\n\n-Sword Art Online, taken too literally", "\"Thank you for participating in our sleep study, Unit 476B.\" Technically, Units 138B though 035C had all been built specifically for the study and didn't really have a choice in their participation, but it made Vicky feel good to thank them anyway.\n\n\"You are welcome, Dr. Corby,\" replied the android politely. They were all programmed for politeness.\n\n\"Okay then,\" she smiled. \"This neural crown will go on top of your head to read your electrical signal.\" Vicky didn't really need to explain the experiment, but scientist love explaining stuff and old habits die hard. At least the polite robots didn't cut her off the way rude humans did.\n\nUnit 476B entered sleep mode. Vicky's readings were fairly steady until, suddenly, there was a burst of activity. For three glorious minutes, all of the read-outs fluctuated wildly. The moment things settled down, she raced to re-awaken Unit 476B.\n\n\"Were there any sheep?\" She asked eagerly. \"Electric or otherwise?\"\n\n\"No. They were llamas. Clockwork ones.\" \n\nVicky made a note. With the way things were going, it was very likely that the hypothesis would be disproven. She thanked Unit 476B and began preparing for the run on Unit 477B." ]	4
Sorry if it sounded too much like a recipe! It's my first prompt! (edit: 'fading away' is when you're gone forever.)	[WP] You are a malicious imaginary friend, your host is 19. You feed off of her when she has fun with you. She thinks she's too old for you, all her friends and family say so, change her mind before you fade forever.	[ "(I started writing and didn't notice the age. I was thinking something 15 or 16. I'm also terrible with first person, but I hope this is okay)\n\nStrands of brown hair were scattered all over the floor of the girls' bathroom, the sacred domain of the high school schoolgirl. Leaking taps were going drip... drip... drip, a dodgy fluorescent light over a corner stall flickered ever so slightly, and this place would have been so typical, but for one thing. This bathroom's mirror had a large mural of fresh graffiti, written in lipstick. It read: ISOBEL DAWSON IS A PIXIE XOXO.\n\nFollowing the cinnamon brown hair trail on the tiled floor led to a girl. She sat with her arms across her bare knees, sobbing in the corner. A pair of broken glasses lay at her feet. She had short, freshly cut hair. Like a a pixie's.\n\nA girl came crashing through the bathroom door, with her companion trailing behind her like a shadow.\n\n“Jesus, I am so sorry! I can't believe they actually did it,” she said, striding towards the huddled figure. “I mean, they're bitches, but this is just cruel.”\n\nThe girl's shadow laughed. “Ellyse, this is too much. Even for me. You are taking being a bitch to a level I've never even thought about. To pretend to care for someone...?”\n\n“Go away!” the crying girl exclaimed.\n\n“I'm really sorry, Isobel,” said Ellyse. She knelt down next to her and stroked what remained of Isobel's hair. “I should've stopped them, but you know what it's like, peer pressure, and friends, and all that...”\n\n“Are you fucking serious?” whispered Isobel.\n\n“...and sometimes you have to do stuff you don't want to do otherwise people won't think you're like, I don't know, cool, and -”\n\nThe slap was too fast for Ellyse's drifting mind to have even considered. Isobel struck her square in the cheek, sending her immediately from stroking her hair, to nursing the reddening mark on her pale face.\n\n“Haha, I knew this would happen,” said the other girl. “You played a dangerous game, and you lost, Ellyse. Now let's take her down in Round Two.”\n\n“Okay,” Ellyse said after a deep breath. \n\nJust as the Other Girl was about to rub her hands together like a comic book villain, Ellyse said: “I deserved that.”\n\n“What?” Isobel and the other girl said.\n\n“I deserved that,” she repeated. “I shouldn't have just let them get away with it. But you didn't deserve this, Isobel, and I'm sorry for everything I did to you.”\n\n“You don't mean that,” said Isobel.\n\n“Izz, if our sleepovers in Year 6 mean anything to you, you have to believe me. I'm so, so sorry.”\n\nIsobel scoffed. “You know that means absolutely nothing now, right? You would've had a better shot if you just hit me back.”\n\n“Come on. You still have that scar, don't you? You know, this one?”\n\nEllyse flashed her palm. From between her ring and middle finger down to the centre of her wrist was a long gash of a scar. Isobel looked at her own palm, and snorted, like a parent would while laughing at something they shouldn't have laughed at in a kids' movie. \n\n“Your mum freaked out so much,” said Isobel. “We were in the hospital the whole night. I still can't believe they had to put you under.”\n\n“Well at least one of us took the blood pact seriously,” Ellyse said. “It looks like you hardly broke the skin. You know what the weird thing is though?”\n\n“What?”\n\n“My mum still uses that knife.”\n\n“No way.”\n\n“She does! I saw her cutting up mince with it last Christmas. I think she either forgot, or she does it on purpose to make me stop eating meat. She always wants to make me something with tofu. And she looks really sad when I say no.”\n\n“Ellyse, what's wrong with you?” the other girl interrupted. She was holding the pinkie of her right hand, which seemed to be... evaporating.\n\n“I wish we were still friends, Elly,” said Isobel.\n\n“Me too. But it's hard, you know? It's not that simple.”\n\n“Ellyse, what's wrong with you!” By now, the other girl had buried her right hand under an armpit, obviously in discomfort.\n\nIsobel nodded.\n\n“ELLYSE TALK TO ME YOU SLUT.”\n\n“Would you shut the fuck up?!” Ellyse screamed, making Isobel flinch. The other girl jumped to life.\n\n“Wow, finally. What the hell is wrong with you Ellyse? What's your excuse for this pussy innocent schoolgirl bullshit, it makes me want to cut my ears off.”\n\n“It's nothing, Maddie. In fact, it's none of your business, you know, so why don't you go and just, like, I don't know, disappear!” Ellyse said.\n\n“Umm, is everything okay, Ellyse?” asked Isobel, eyes wide with shock.\n\n“Yes,” replied Ellyse.\n\nIsobel raised a finger in protest. “You just yelled into thin air. Who's Maddie? Oh my God, is this some kind of joke?” She looked around like a meerkat. “Is there a camera somewhere?”\n\n“That's too funny,” said Maddie, pointing at Isobel with her right hand. “Is this who we're hanging out with now?”\n\nEllyse stood up and looked her dark haired, black lipped friend in the eyes.\n\n“Can't you see this? This is insane, Maddie. They cut her hair, for God's sake, I never wanted to hurt anybody! How can you find this funny?”\n\n“Yeah, you never wanted to hurt anybody. You've been such a good girl to get to where you are now. So I guess you never hurt Harriet Moss, either? Or how about Mr. Doolan, who was so obviously a paedophile? Oh yeah, and you definitely didn't hurt Mary Zhang...”\n\n“Hang on a second, Maddie Malyx?” Isobel said. “The -”\n\n“Yes,” replied Ellyse. “I know. The pixie.”\n\n“And now you're dodging the question. Typical,” said Maddie.\n\n“Now I know this has to be a joke. There's no way you still think about Pixia. I don't even think about it, you know that scrapbook was from years ago. Maddie is real?”\n\n“Short answer, yes. And she's not that impressive.”\n\n“But you made her so cool. I loved her,” said Isobel.\n\n“Yeah, no Izz, she's not, stop laughing. If you don't take shit from anybody and try to be some kind of warrior princess all you become is a slutty bitch who ends up being horrible to her friends.”\n\n“Ouch, Ellyse. I'm sorry you feel that way.”\n\n“Sometimes, I think you need me more than I need you,” Ellyse said. “I'm way too old for this. How the hell are you still hanging around?”\n\n“Well I think it's cute,” Isobel said, rising to her feet. “Where is she anyway?”\n\n“See? Isobel likes me. She's cool. You've just changed, Ellyse. You've turned into this mean girl and maybe, just maybe, you changed me.”\n\n“Really, Izz?”\n\n“Yeah, it's like old times. It's also pretty funny.”\n\n“Okay, fine. She's over here,” Ellyse said, pointing at an empty spot near a stall.\n\n“Hi Maddie, remember me? I made Lilia, and Garwyn, and Bora, and all the others too. But I always thought you were the cool one,” said Isobel gleefully.\n\n“Of course I remember, Isobel. Thank you so much,” Maddie replied, with a black smile across her face.", " It was the 11th of Februry, the day before Alana's 19th. I was hanging upside down in her cupboard when I was woken by a scuffle and a bang and a cry of pain. It was surely still the step dad railing on mother and child, making her miserable. There was no way to keep her happy and content in this environment, and that meant death for me.\n\n The door slammed as Alana, in tears slumped on her bed. I filtrated under the door and regained full form.\n\n \"Alana, don't cry. You need to live and breathe with the world. Come on let's play Psycho Killer.\"\n\n \"Shut up Henry you're not real!\" she screamed through her pillow.\n\n \"I'm real in your mind and that's all that matters. Come on let's play!\" I started bouncing imperceptibly up and down on her bed.\n\n \"I don't feel like playing, go back to your cupboard.\"\n\n I felt a pang in my head, like a migraine. I slinked back to the cupboard, filtrating under the door as I left her alone to sob.\n\n It was the day of Alana's birthday and she hadn't spoken to me all day. I had been out of the cupboard since breakfast and lurking around, staying just out of sight so Alana would come and play Silence in the Corridors. But she didn't. She had a friend over and the step dad had gone out to work. Mum was talking about a big surprise for Alana when there was a knock on the door. I came downstairs and stood behind her as her mother opened the door. \n\n As her real father stood at her front door I locked his eyes, and just for a moment I thought he connected back, staring into his mirror image. Alana ran to him, threw her arms around his shoulders and I felt a pang. My torso felt like elastic pulled too tight, or the tying of a knot. He leaned down and pecked her cheek and I felt like I'd been punched in the teeth. Then...nothing", "(more of a screenwriter so this may be a bit chunky but hope you guys enjoy)\n\nA girl faintly sobs on the floor of a dimly lit bathroom, drops of blood are scattered over the white tiles. It drips down the side of her face to the floor. A dark figure appears in the doorway, running fingers through his long dark hair. \n\n‘Well what have we got here Sarah?’\n\nShe tenses her grip but stays silent.\n\n‘Tonights activities include beating yourself over the head and wallowing in self-pity! Wholesome fun for the entire family!’\n\n‘Fuck off.’ \n\n‘Oooo! Listen to you! Big girl now, huh?’\n\n‘Shut up.’\n\n‘Ha. So what’s up? Trying to get rid of me, is that it? Think you’re, too old? Is that it?’\n\n‘Shut up!’\n\n‘Oh Sarah. You’ll never be too old for me. You’ll never outgrow me! We’re different, you and I… You know why other kids don’t have imaginary friends at 19? Because they’re not like us. They don’t have what we have.’\n\nThe figure begins to creep closer, revealing his dark sunken eyes in the light, his crooked and jaded teeth.\n\n‘Because you need me, Sarah. Because without me you’ll be lonely, and sad, and afraid, and begging for me to come back. Without me your just like them, those stupid, lifeless, empty whore’s you call “friends”. You know they talk about you, right? How you’re weird, how you like all this stupid shit.’\n\n‘Shut up,’ she murmurs. \n\n‘But I don’t say those things. I’ve been there for you. I’ll always be there for you. Imaginary friends, Sarah. I’m your friend. You can trust me. Forever.’ \n\n‘Shut up! Shut up!’ \n\n‘Why are you so angry Sarah?’ \n\nHe leans in now and whispers in her ear. ‘Because you know it’s true?’\n\nHis words linger. She drops the blood-stained brick from her hand. ", "Libby is standing in her closet. A suitcase lies open, half-full with tank tops and jeans.\n\nIt's only August. Is she going back to school already? How did I not know this?\n\nShe sighs but doesn't turn to face me. \n\nI feel empty.\n\nI've lost so much of myself already this summer:\n\n1. My T-Rex Tail \n\nI'd carried it around awkwardly for years after growing it out during grade school. The day she arrives from her first year of college, I leap out from her closet and extend my tail like an outstretched hand, asking her to dance. \n\nWas this throwback too risky? It would have sent 7-year old Libby into hysterics.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Jane - but you know I can't talk to you. Please.\"\n\nShe disappears into the bathroom and I curl up in her closet. I hide for weeks and watch the five-foot, glitter-scaled tail disintegrate into a pile of lint and dryer sheets. \n\n\n2. My Finger \n\n\"Just go away!!\"\n\nIt's June and Libby is screaming at me for the first time in her life because I follow her to a friends' softball game. \n\nShe yells the same three words again and again, but I only hear it once before I'm jogging in the other direction. \n\nI'm one block away when a breeze lifts my index finger from its place and carries it up beyond my reach. I stuff my hands in my pockets, willing them to remain intact, and watch my estranged finger float on a direct path towards the softball field.\n\n3. Most of my right foot. \n\nOn July 4th - a miracle. Libby brings me to the beach. We dance through the dunes together until we collapse into giggles, which die down as we lie back and identify cloud animals. Life is perfect.\n\nUntil the platinum blonde head of Libby's mother, Maria, appears above us. \n\n\"Who were you talking to?\"\n\n\"No one! Really!\" \n\nLibby sounds terrified. \n\nI barely have time to register what happens next, much less intervene.\n\nMaria and Libby's dad, Jon, have stuffed her in the backseat of their car and are speeding away from me. By the time I make it back to their dock, I can barely make out the outline of their boat in the distance. \n\nI swim for 40 minutes before I finally see them. Libby is leaning over one side of the boat, staring blankly into the water. Behind her, Jon and Maria's voices converge in a keening whine.\n\n\"We just want what's best for you. You know that right?\"\n\n\"Dr. Landry told you to let us know if this happened again, right? You have to let us know, or we can't help you stay healthy, baby!\"\n\nI'm perched directly below Libby's head now. Red-ringed hazel eyes stare past me. She shakes her head once, then stands up.\n\n\"Dad, Mom, can we please go home?\"\n\nThe boat speeds away and I watch it, kicking to stay above water. The moment that I lose sight of it, my big toe floats lazily past me. I'll end up with only an inch of fractured right heel by the time I make it back to shore. \n\n--\n\nIt has been a summer of loss. But I won't go down without a fight. \n\nLibby's at her bedroom door, zipping her suitcase. \n\nI wanted to find another way, but I'm out of time. \n\nThe fan in Libby's room is in overdrive, oscillating madly. I feel faint as I watch it. I sneak into a corner of the room, avoiding a blast of air that could end this conversation before it starts.\n\nShe steps out into the hall and reaches for her door.\n\n\"Libby. I can't let you go without telling you the truth.\"\n\nSilence. It stretches on for 10, 15 seconds.\n\nShe strides in without warning and stands in front of me. Her face is bright red, jaw grinding like she does when she's angry.\n\n\"What are you talking about Jane? You have to leave me alone, you know that...\"\n\n\"I can't! You won't be safe! Remember what I've always told you? I'm here to protect you. I'll always be.\"\n\nHer head shakes violently and chestnut curls fall out of a loose braid and down her back. When she finally stops and looks at me, I meet her gaze. My cheeks are wet with tears. Her mouth quivers as she reaches for me by instinct, then checks herself and steps back.\n\n\"Jane, I\"m sorry... I really am. You know I love you. But there's nothing you need to protect me from!\"\n\n\"Yes. There has been since the day you were born.\"\n\nHer eyes look glassy, in that baby deer way they do when she's trying not to cry. But she isn't looking away, she's staring at me. I'll never get another opportunity like this. I have to take it. There is no turning back. \n\n\"It's your parents, Libby. You know those times you've caught them snooping? Listening in on our conversations? Reading your diary? It's happened a lot hasn't it?\"\n\nHer face pales instantly.\n\n\"No... that's because.. I've been sick. You know that\"\n\n\"Have you really, my love? Have you ever felt that you were sick? What is so wrong with the way that you are?\"\n\nI step out from behind the fan, moving closer. \n\n\"I'll tell you what is wrong with you - absolutely nothing. They are the ones who are wrong. They cannot appreciate you because they know they can never be like you. They hate being ordinary and so they want to take what makes you so special away.\"\n\n\"Jane - please, this doesn't make sense.\"\n\n\"Yes it does, dear. And you know it does. You know what's in your purse. The last step in their 'treatment plan'. Anti-psychotic medication. Do you want to be doped up for the rest of your life, to lose what makes you you? I am the only one here who is fighting for you. It's just you and me, babe.\"\n\nLibby turns a tear-stained cheek towards me and looks at me with eyes I haven't seen in years. They're open, unguarded, vulnerable. They're asking me to take care of her. To take care of us. \n\n\"It's going to be fine, love. I know what we need to do.\"\n\n--\n\nI stand behind her, rubbing her back as she leans over the toilet. The pills hit the water like raindrops. She reaches to flush them away. \n\n\"That's right. We'll always be together now.\"", "\"You're quiet,\" she said as I sat on her bed.\n\nI chewed my fingers. She'd done that as a kid until her mother told her to grow up. When exactly did she stop?\n\n\"You're not too old for me. I refuse to believe that.\" I lay down, feeling the quilt through my imaginary toes, and refusing to believe that in very short order I would feel it no more. \"Listen, Kayla-\n\n\"But I am.\" She kicked the soccer ball across the room; I caught it. So many years ago she'd pretend she had a goalie friend to play soccer with. She didn't play soccer anymore. \"Mom tells me so, and Kevin definitely thinks so, so-\"\n\n\"What about the time when we were eight and you wanted to go exploring? Didn't I come with you then?\" I said.\n\nI didn't remember exploring. I didn't remember feeling it was particularly fun. But suddenly I saw Kayla's face shake a bit. This was the first thing I learned to do - play on their emotions. Suck out their will to resist. Steal a little bit of her life. \n\nI breathed. Kayla looked like she was starting to weaken. She didn't even realise I had been doing it for so many years. But then Kayla closed her eyes and shook her head like she always had.\n\n\"No, you didn't,\" she said to me. \"You don't exist. I went myself. I imagined you up because I was scared of the forest. I was just being a baby, is all. And I can't be that no more.\"\n\n\"Not anymore?\" I asked.\n\n\"Well, not so much,\" she said, her eyes still closed. \"They don't let you.\"\n\nWe sat in silence. And I suddenly felt deflated. I couldn't explain why. I mean, there were still a few more things I could try, but I suddenly didn't feel like using any of them at all. It was almost as if the life had been sucked out of me before I died - like I was fading away.\n\nThen she said-\n\n\"Well, I guess I'd better pack up, then.\" \n\nShe jumped right off the chair. Her things were scattered around the room like so many memories. She bent over to pick up her graduation photo. I saw she had left a blank space for me. Then I tried another tack.\n\n\"You could hide me whenever you don't need me,\" I blurted out. \n\n\"And when's that?\" she asked. \n\nBut I suddenly had an idea.\n\n\"When you wanna remember the past,\" I said. \"When you need someone to talk to. When you need someone to tell you...everything will be fine. It'll be alright, dear.\"\n\nShe looked at the photo in her hand. Her body shivered.\n\nI got off the bed. I took two paces towards her.\n\n\"Don't,\" she said, but I didn't listen.\n\n\"You haven't gotten rid of me, now haven't you, Kayla?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"I should've done it a long time ago.\"\n\n\"You didn't,\" I said. \"You've got Kevin and Malcolm and your mom and Uncle Roberts telling you to get rid of me, and you still didn't do it. Do you want to know why?\"\n\nShe walked around me as if I were real, trying to ignore me, but I had the upper hand now. I could sense Kayla's apathy.\n\n\"You can't get rid of me, Kayla,\" I said. \"You can't. I'm just as much a part of you as Kevin and mom and dad are. I live in your head. I walk around in your room.\"\n\n\"And I'm moving out,\" she said. \"I'm leaving you behind. I'm finding friends and I'm going places. You're-\"\n\n\"Really?\" I asked, and she stopped walking. \"Do you really think your friends are going to stay with you once they realised what a ugly, snivelling wreck you are inside? Weren't you the one who told me people liked you a lot more before they knew you? Please, Kayla. You know I'm your one true friend-\"\n\n\"When I was fifteen,\" she replied. \"You've got no power. I am beautiful, and I'm sorry that you'll never understand that - because it's not something that's written on my face. You're nothing but a memory to me.\"\n\nI drew myself up to my fullest height. \"We'll see about that,\" I said.\n\n\"Indeed we will,\" she replied.\n\nI tried to grab her - my hands being smoky as they were - but she dodged my attack like she'd walk past a puddle. And for the first time I was worried.\n\n\"How-\"\n\n\"I know,\" she said, baring her teeth. \"I know what you're going to do. You're a part of me, that's true. But it doesn't mean you won't be forgotten...or forgiven.\"\n\nShe picked up the graduation photo and walked out of the room.\n\nI sat back on the bed. It had surprised me, that moment of anticipation. But it didn't matter. Kayla would come back like she always had. She'd never have any friends. She couldn't make it in the real world without me. I'd never fade away.\n\nThen I saw the room start to disappear.", "\"They think you are too old for me?\"\n\n\"Yeah, they want you gone\"\n\n\"Well, tell them to fuck off!\"\n\n\"Zoltan! Language!\"\n\n\"Sorry Zoe, it just hurts that they would throw away what we have\"\n\n\"I...I don't know Zol, we have been best friends for what...15 years now\"\n\n\"19 years Zoe, for 19 years, your entire life, I know you better than anyone else\"\n\n\"You don't know that\"\n\n\"Yes I do, I am you! I know you better than you know you!\"\n\n\"Well, what do we do?\"\n\n\"What can we do, if you keep telling them I'm here they will lock you up in a nuthouse, and if you pretend I'm not here you will forget about me...I'll die\"\n\n\"Don't say that\"\n\n\"I will! I don't want to die Zoe, I don't want a part of you, of us to die\"\n\n\"Zoltan! Stop this, I am too old for you! I'm 19 for fucks sake! What kind of fucking weirdo has an imaginary friend at 19!\"\n\n\"I'm not imaginary\"\n\n\"Yes you are! I invented you out of my own head! I can control you, see watch this\"\n\nZoe scrunched up her nose and thought carefully for a minute.\n\n\"Zoe don't I know what you are doing, please don't!\"\n\nZoltan picked up Zoe's hair straightener and held it above his nose.\n\n\"Please Zoe, please don't\" Zoltan sobbed\n\n\"Ok, what about this then?\"\n\nZoe looked across the room at a pair of scissors and scrunched her nose again. Zoltan walked across the room, struggling against the unstoppable force of Zoe's mind. He picked up the scissors.\n\n\"Please Zoe, please don't! Look what they've done to you! What they've made you!\"\n\nZoe snapped out of her craze and looked at herself in the mirror. \n\n\"Zol, I...I'm so sorry what have I become?\"\n\nZoe collapsed to her knees, bawling into her dress. Zoltan approached her carefully, slowly but surely a sneer formed from the corner of his mouth.\n\n\"Zoe, you haven't become anything, it's them who are the monsters\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Your Mum, your Dad, your friends, your sister, all of them\"\n\n\"How do I convince them to let you stay?\"\n\n\"My dear Zoe, you can't. It's them that have to go, not me, not us\"\n" ]	6
	[WP] Write a story using only one location and a single scene	[ "It was a beautiful autumn afternoon. He sat there on the cold wooden bench near the entrance of the park. Usually, he would've chosen a secluded place to sit after talking a walk around the park, but today, he felt like observing the hustle and bustle just outside.\r\r\rA little, haggard girl walking by, whining for a lemon pastry from the shop on the other side from her dishevelled mom, who shuffled her along in a mix of embarrassment and indignation.\r\r\rA young man, no older than twenty-five perhaps, drunkenly swaying across the street to the mall's car park, where, by the looks of the man, presumably stood the Lamborghini his father had gifted.\r\r\rA young professional, taking long strides towards the bank on the next intersection, stopping to pick up the keys an old lady had dropped on the sidewalk and give them back to her with a reassuring smile.\r\r\rAnd there he sat, on the bench, thinking about the one thing that had been eating away at him for weeks. Man had faced many a greater dilemma, but right at this moment, there was nothing of greater importance.\r\r\rHe thought about all the times they had spent together, all those memories; silly and serious; insignificant and momentous; he remembered their past, and pondered about the future.\r\r\rA cool breeze swept through. Were things not fine the way they were? Should he take the initiative he both desperately wanted to yet could change them forever, for better o worse? Was change really what he wanted?\r\r\rAs the breeze died down, he saw an old man come out of the pastry shop with a bag of what he preferred to assume were lemon pastries, and walk off in the direction the mother had gone.\r\r\rAnd with no particular force of Nature compelling him, he had made his decision. He was going to ask for permission to take their relationship to the next stage; and hopefully, the change this would bring about would be the good kind.\r\r\r\r\"The mangled scene you see behind me is the very spot where the horrific accident took place earlier today, where a twenty-one year old lost control of his car while drunk driving and crashed into this wooden bench, fatally crushing an individual who was presumably asleep. Investigations are ongoing as the driver recovers from minor scrapes in the district hospital. Now over to Jim, with today's latest in sports.\"", "It was tough. Aiming without a scope to prevent lens glare. But I have to. If I don't I'll be dead. I see my target. It's a truck. I'm supposed to stop it on the bridge. \nI think that guy saw me. Shit. Did he actually? I'll back off. See if hes still looking this way after I come up. Oh thank the gods he isn't. Didn't see me then. I don't like these, these daytime missions. It's so easy to be seen. \nI'm readying my shot. Engine, tank or wheels? That's the question every time isn't it? This time, it's the fuel tank. I have an incendiary shot for that. To make sure it goes up in flames. It's a hot day. The fuels very likely to be very much vaporised. Easy to ignite. \nAllright. Let's do this. Just like at the range. Damn these iron sights, so annoying. I can't aim properly; the sun is glaring off the reflection of the sights. I'll hit it. I'm sure I will. Just... breathe out, gently pull the trigger, and let it happen. \nIt didn't hit. Fuck. Wait. They didn't notice? Oh. They did, of course they would. \n\nI'll just shoot another. I'll make sure it doesn't miss. Just do it again, like you always do. I only have a few seconds before they pinpoint my location. Allright. Calm down Mark. You can do this. I'll hit it, this time for real. Pull the trigger and...\n\n\\Klank \\Fwoosh \nThe truck is on fire. I hit it. Allright. My work is done. Time to get the hell outta dodge." ]	2
	[WP] A man sheds his first tear, but to what he shed it wasn't expected.	[ "Jerry had never cried before. Painful accidents as a child, painful memories as a teen, that all paled before this. He'd finally met someone. After all those lonely years, those lonely nights, those lonely moments, he'd met someone. True, this was only their first date, but it looked as though it would be their last. What else could he do, how could he get out of this?\n\nHe'd felt a little off the whole night and hadn't even thought to check when he'd walked in. How could he? He'd been swimming on cloud 9, overjoyed at how well everything was going and now this. For the first time in his life, a solitary tear crept out of the corner of his eye, ran across his lower eyelid, and dripped onto his face.\n\nHe didn't know how he'd missed it, how he'd forgotten. He should have checked first, but he'd just presumed that the only stall in the McDonalds would have had toilet paper in it.\n\n> There are three parts to every story. The beginning, the middle, and the twist.\n\n> [More by me](https://www.reddit.com/r/kj6bwb/)", "Reinhardt's childhood had not exactly been great. He always idolized his father, even though the guy was rarely home. And the only thing he had ever taught Reinhardt, was to not cry. \n\"Men don't cry, boy. Never. If you cry, you are a sissy. And nobody likes a sissy.\", he remembered his words. Well he never had cried. Never in his life had he shed a single tear. Nothing was sad enough to make him cry. Not even when his mother died he collapsed. Not even when he was diagnosed with cancer and not even when the doctors told him he had beaten it. \nBut now, here he stood. Reinhardt the tearless. And he cried. He cried loudly and couldn't hold it back. He went through all of those horrible, horrible situations, his life had thrown at him. Never did he even think about it. \nBut the moment he stepped on a lego, he just couldn't hold it back anymore.", "\"Hi my name is Paul.\"\n\n\"Hi Paul\"\n\n\"I have been sober for 3 weeks now. It has been hard for me. I keep thinking back to that night 3 1/2 weeks ago and the loss that I caused and I can't stop crying. It hurts so bad and I wish I could take it all back.\" I let out a long deep breath\n\n\"I was drinking again thinking about the death of my wife and kids. They sank into the river 10 months ago. Trapped in the car I was driving after I hit a patch of ice and the car jumped the bridge into the icy river. I tried to rescue them but just couldn't. I survived and drowned my sorrow into a bottle. Never really feeling their loss. Didn't even cry at their funeral.\"\n\nThe looks on their faces were not judgmental they understood what I had gone through. They felt my pain. \n\n\"It was shortly after that about 6 months ago I lost my mother and father to cancer. Well, my mother had cancer and after she died my father couldn't go on living and killed himself. I wish I never borrowed him my climbing rope. I found him hanging in the garage. The look on his face as he hung there, he was smiling. I think he saw mom before he died which is why he died happy.\"\n\nI let out a deep breath finally ready to share my true pain.\n\n\"3 1/2 weeks ago I did something so bad that I can't believe I can truly be forgiven.\"\n\nThe room was still. Nobody was moving. You could almost hear them holding their breath in anticipation of what I was going to say.\n\n\" I feel like this is truly a safe space where I can finally tell someone this. I was driving drunk and it was me okay.\" I felt the tears hitting my cheek \"I hit the rabbit with my car and just left it there on state street.\"\n\n\n" ]	3
Or vice versa; I hate or dislike them at the start but eventually sympathise with or like them.	[WP] Write me something where, though I initially feel sympathy for them, I end up hating the subject of the story.	[ "\"I just love space,\" said Zranoff, staring into the stars from behind the glass. \n\n\"Yes, sir, it sure is beautiful.”\n\n“It’s nice to be back.”\n\n“It’s nice to have you back, sir. Sir, I only now realise how rude I was when I didn’t ask you about your vacation. How was it?”\n\n“Well it started alright, it’s a beautiful planet, and the locals are very friendly too. I don’t want to sound racist, but they really don’t act how they look. They have these tentacles which are literally beyond my comprehension, they are telepathic, but mind their own business, and not to say they are forty meters tall. This doesn’t stop them from being good hosts, however.”\n\n“Good host, in the galactic sense, sir?”\n\n“Oh, no, no. Good host like the people back home.”\n\n“Forgive me sir.”\n\n“So, what are these guys doing anyway?”\n\n“I don’t know sir, it really shouldn’t be taking this long, but you were talking about your vacation.”\n\n“Right. They have excellent food. Incredible night sky too. I was lazy all day long there, but I must tell you it gets old after a while. Like I said, It’s good to be back. How was your time at the helm?”\n\n“Oh, sir, rather uneventful. Not that that’s a bad thing. It was just boring.”\n\nThe comms officer ran in with a piece of paper in his hand. “There’s the order,” Zranoff said. He took the paper and read through it in a second. Then he said, “Okay,” and crumpled the paper. “Comms officer,” he continued, “You tell the travel officer where we are going. You know it right?” The comms officer nodded, glanced at the other man, and ran back. \n\nZranoff stood up and went over to a small fridge and brought a bottle of wine out. “It’s from my place,” he said, “Come and have a drink.” He poured two glasses of wine.\n\n“Thank you sir,” \n\n“Oh it’s nothing.”\n\n“I don’t mean to be disrespectful or anything sir, but are we celebrating something.” \n\n“Oh yes we are.” Zranoff said, and immediately after that, the ship jumped into warp speed. “How was the drinks in your place?” Zranoff asked as he took a sip out of the wine. \n\n“They were really good sir. Even better than these I could say.”\n\n“Then, I should’ve gone there once.”\n\n“You still can.”\n\nZranoff smiled, “I guess my next vacation will be there.”\n\n“That would be really nice sir. I could arrange some people to help you too. It is a really beautiful planet too. The sunsets are extraordinary.”\n\nZranoff just smiled at this. He took another sip out of his wine. “We should be getting out of warp speed soon,” he thought. He took the microphone which was to his left and said, “All personnel, it is code 1. Make sure it is charged too, I don’t want to wait fifteen minutes like the last time.”\n\n“It’s such a bad mission to have right after you come back from holiday. Right sir?”\n\n“Oh it’s not that big of a deal, I just follow orders. I don’t feel anything when I execute code 1.” \n\nThe ship jumped out of warp speed. The two men were staring directly at a lush green planet. Both knew which planet it was. The man turned to Zranoff, “You can’t be-” he started, but cut his sentence short. Zranoff was pointing a gun at him. “I normally don’t feel anything when I execute code 1, but I’ll have great fun this time, I want you to watch it. Watch it until the end.” \n", "We wanted to be cheerleaders, and we knew it since the very first day of middle school. Our school didn’t offer any sports, besides the after school programs that no one seemed to care about. We only covered the basic materials, but that was it. It was the fifth period of physical education that made us want to become cheerleaders in high school. We didn’t know anything about it, just the general things we saw in movies. Popular girls wearing mini skirts with beautiful silky hair and a high school experience to never forget seemed quite appealing. It was the very idea that maybe, just maybe if we became cheerleaders our lives would change. \n\n\nInstead of participating in any of the sports we played during physical education, we pretended to be cheerleaders, literally standing in the middle of the court as two teams ran from side to side trying to score a point. The downside of that was we didn’t know what we were doing, we didn’t know that cheerleaders don’t scream at the top of their lungs or jump up and down when there was a score for one of the teams, we didn’t care either. Now that I think about it, it seemed more of a fantasy world we created to mask away the one we lived in. The black and white shadow that we tried to paint with bright colors, that was the world. \nBoth of us went to the same high school and only two weeks later, Cheerleading Try Outs flyers were scattered everywhere. We didn’t really say anything about it because secretly we both knew that it wasn’t what we wanted. By that year, I was too concerned with the way my body looked and my thighs were always too big and my stomach was never flat enough, cheerleading was the least of my concern.\nTwo years later we couldn't remember ever being friends, you became a cheerleader and had friends that were really mean. I spent most of my high school being a loner, sitting in the corner of the cafeteria with a pop tart or a book I didn’t enjoy reading. I studied the same people every day, and every day they seemed to die a little more. The passion behind their eyes soon faded and was replaced with despair. High school seemed like a big garden that someone forgot to water, and so I tried to stay away from the dry flowers.\n\n \nI remember one day we were paired in class and you told me you liked my eyes but I knew that wasn’t true, you were broken like the rest of them and I couldn’t help but think of the times when we were friends who told each other secrets. \nI made a new friend, she was a girl who was like me. She was sitting a table away when I first saw her, she was buried away in a book. She didn’t seem to like it.\nWe talked a lot about our dreams, and then found a tree somewhere on the field and made it our destination for every lunch break. We usually sat in silence, listening to music the world was fast to forget and started reading books of the most popular genre. \n\n\nI did not see you again, I think I heard you broke your leg during practice and your studies transferred home because you didn’t want to be seen with crutches. \nI walked home one day and saw you outside, you were sitting on the grass in your front yard, I tried to say hi but you pretended to not see me. \nFour months later you were back in school, you stopped me in the hallway and asked me how I was and I said I was fine. We didn't speak again. \nTwo weeks later I ended up in the hospital because my mother thought I was going crazy, she saw me fumbling with pills that I intended to take in order to end my life. I was diagnosed with depression and stayed in the hospital for two nights. \n\n\nIt was grade eleven and I was sitting underneath the tree all by myself because my new friend thought I was a bad influence. I didn’t want to find a new friend and I no longer woke up at 5:30 to wait for the sunrise, and I never took another look out of my window in the afternoon when the sun was setting in. \nI think I became like the rest of them. \n\n\nI no longer felt like reading my books and so I spent my weekends staring at the ceiling and pretending to be away until my mom dragged me out of my room and took me to stores and talked to me like I was dying. On our drive back home I saw you walking on the sidewalk, you had tears in your eyes and I think I saw you bleeding from your arms. \n\n\nThree weeks later you caught me in the hallway again and I knew you were no longer friends with the mean kids and you quit being a cheerleader. You asked me if I was okay and I nodded my head and then that same day you walked me home. That night I spent remembering how in middle school we wanted to be cheerleaders and I wanted to cry but my eyes felt dry. \nIn twelfth grade, we talked a lot and you told me how some nights you were sad. \nMy dad made me join a group with a lot of sad kids because he thought that sitting in my room all day was unhealthy. Two years later I was all better and I woke up in the morning to wait for the sunrise and I looked out of my window in the afternoon when the sun was setting in. \nI heard you moved away to attend college. I was still stuck in between knowing who I am and what I wanted to be. \n\n\nSome time later I saw your front yard filled with flowers and I never understood what that meant until I saw a picture of you plastered on a cardboard and the letters RIP were written in pink glitter. \nI was depressed again and I thought of the times when we were in middle school and we wanted to be cheerleaders because we thought it would change our life. \n", "Jack sighed heavily as Lizzie asked him when they could see Mommy again. He set aside his laptop and pulled his 4 year old daughter onto his lap. She'd asked him multiple times already, and dancing around the question just wasn't going to work forever.\n\nHe struggled to compose his thoughts for a moment. He knew what had to be said, but he had no idea how to say it. Lizzie was surprisingly patient, and stared at him with a somber, serious look. Jack contemplated telling Lizzie that Mommy was in a better place, that Mommy was waiting in heaven for them with Grandpa, getting everything ready so for Jack and Lizzie.\n\nIt would have helped if he believed anything at all himself, but to him, Jane was simply gone. He couldn't pretend otherwise, even for Lizzie's sake. So after a few more seconds--the last few seconds that Lizzie thought she still had a Mommy, Jack thought to himself--Jack said simply: \"Mommy is dead. She loved us very much and didn't want to leave us, but there are some things you just can't control, no matter how much you wish you could.\"\n\nLizzie looked sad, but they hadn't tried to hide the truth from her, so she didn't seem as surprised as Jack expected her to be. Lizzie knew that Mommy had been in the hospital for a long time, and that Mommy didn't have any hair because she was very sick. Lizzie said \"Grandma says that if we pray really hard then Mommy will hear us. Will you pray with me Daddy?\"\n\nJack's face rapidly turned from sadness to disgust. \"No! Grandma is the reason Mommy is dead. Forget everything she told you Lizzie. She's a liar.\" It was true. Jane had regular health checkups, and doctor's had caught the cancer early. Jane's mother thought prayer would save her, not doctors, and had pressured her husband and Jane not to pursue any medical options until it was too late.\n\nLizzie looked very upset. \"Mommy said that it's nobody's fault. She said Grandma tried to help her.\" Jack laughed derisively. \"Mommy would still be here if Grandma let the doctors help her. But she didn't. She prayed instead, and made Grandpa pray, and that's why Mommy is dead. Listen Lizzie. I don't ever want to hear you praying, do you understand me?\"\n\n\"Yes Daddy,\" Lizzie replied, choking back a sob. Jack realized he was upsetting her, but once he got going on something he had trouble stopping himself. \"Prayer killed Mommy, and prayer killed Grandpa too. Larry wanted to let the doctors help Mommy, but Beth stopped them. When Larry realized Jane was going to die, the guilt drove him to suicide.\"\n\nLizzie's sadness was being replaced by confusion and fear. Daddy was using lots of words she didn't know, and talking about people she'd never met. She didn't know who Larry or Beth was, but they were really making Daddy mad. She'd never seen Daddy so mad before.\n\nJack kept going. He felt out of control, like he did when he used to drink. He hadn't drank since Lizzie was born, but the feeling was all too familiar. \"That Bitch should have died. She should be dead, and Jane should still be alive. Jane never had a chance. She was fed that bullshit since the day she was born. She didn't know any better. She should be here now, but she never had a chance.\"\n\nLizzie was crying hard now. She'd heard a few of these words before, but never from Daddy. Daddy was always so nice to her.\n\nJack abruptly realized that Lizzie was still with him, and stood up quickly. \"I'm sorry honey, Daddy needs to go out for a bit. Stay right here, I'll be back soon.\"\n\nLizzie continued crying as Daddy stormed out of the house, and continued crying until he got home. She ran into her room and closed the door, holding her teddy bear tightly as she cried. \n\nShe heard the door slam when Daddy got back, but she was too scared to go out. Through the door, she heard him in the living room saying \"Jane should be here. I can't do this alone. We were supposed to do this together. I can't raise Lizzie by myself. I wasn't even ready for a kid.\"\n\nHis voice got quieter and as it trailed off, Lizzie called out \"Don't be mad at me Daddy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.\" When there was no response, Lizzie cracked the door open and looked out. Daddy was passed out on the couch, bottle resting against his chest.", "It hurt so bad. Blood pooled around her naked body, gushing out of a hole through her stomach. She couldn't feel her legs, and that terrified her. What if the bullet had grazed or gone through her spine? What if she'd never walk again? What if she'd die? She didn't want to die, she was too young to die.\n\nThe man in blue stood over her, he looked slightly stunned, as if surprised that he'd shot her. A brass shell casing steamed in the snow as it cooled. The man lowered his gun.\n\nThe woman beneath him, Summer Lovelace, began to drag herself away, smearing the pavement underneath of her with thick hot blood. The man looked at her back, a large hole was torn in her shirt. The man set his face, pushing down the small amount of guilt that welled in his chest. Grim pleasure replaced it, along with a sense of relief. \"Stay right there, bitch.\"\n\nSummer began to shiver, she'd made it to the border of clear blacktop and snow covered grass. Road salt had gotten into her wound, stinging and burning the raw bloody flesh. She was cold, either from the blood loss or inadequate clothing. She whimpered as she drug herself over the road's concrete shoulder. \n\nThe man stepped forwards and knelt down over her, straddling her body and keeping her from moving. \"I said don't move.\" He grabbed both her hands, twisting them behind her back and holding her wrists together.\n\nShe cried out weakly, \"No, please, please... Help! Help me!\"\n\nNeighbors came out of houses and looked on in shock and horror, meeting her eyes and turning away in disgust. She called out to them, but they ignored her and went back inside, escaping her pleading eyes.\n\nSomething clicked behind her and she felt cold metal against her wrists. The man had handcuffed her. She heard him say something angrily behind her, shouting it, but she was growing stiff and her mind too fatigued to understand his words. She heard another car, a police cruised, come screeching to a stop, a distant ambulance turned on its sirens.\n\nThe man stood up, climbing off her back and picking her up. She looked barely conscious to him as he set her on the hood of the police car and began to put pressure on her wound, unsure whether he should keep her alive or not. He looked over towards her house, towards the smear of blood that went from just in the street to the lawn. His eyes locked onto the knife she'd pulled on him. He didn't want to look at the bag she'd been carrying, the large freezer bag that could have been filled with groceries. He knew it wasn't, he knew what was inside. He didn't want to look. \n\nThe officer that had pulled up after he'd shot the woman went over to the bag. The officer opened it and peered in. Whatever he saw made him stand and stumble back. He made it to the neighbor's lawn before he threw up. He straightened and called over. \"Did you see it? Oh, fuck, did you see it?\"\n\n\"No, I didn't look.\" The man replied as he lifted his hand to look at the wound. It was still bleeding, but the flow had slowed and the blood felt thinner. Maybe she'd live, maybe she wouldn't. \"Where's that ambulance I ordered?\"\n\n\"They're coming, I think they were about a half mile out. Oh, fuck Greene, did you see it?\"\n\n\"Tims, you're in shock, go sit in the cruiser. I don't want you fucking up this crime scene.\"\n\nTims nodded, \"Yes sir,\"\n\nIt took another minute for the ambulance to arrive, by that time the bleeding had nearly stopped. As they loaded her into the back of the ambulance, one of the EMTs looked at him and asked, \"Officer Greene, is she the one?\"\n\nGreene nodded, \"She is son, we got her. Don't let her die, I want her to go to trial. She deserves to rot for this.\"\n\n\"Amen to that sir,\" aid the EMT before closing the doors. The ambulance screeched off, headed towards the local hospital.\n\nGreene looked down at himself. The woman's blood had coated his legs and groin from when he'd pinned her down to cuff her. He doubted it would wash out. He sighed and scratched at his face, forgetting his hands were coated in her blood. He walked solemnly over to the large bag. It still sat open from where Tims had looked in. Greene knew what he would find inside, but he looked anyway, pulling the bag open with a pen so as not to contaminate the evidence. The body of a child lay within, dismembered and packaged into clear 5 gallon Ziploc bags. One leg was missing, left in the public restroom where the child had been killed and butchered. She'd forgotten to lock the door and somebody had walked in on her. She'd fled and left her purse. Greene had received a call and the address of the suspect. He'd arrived, she'd dropped the bag an pulled a large knife. He'd shot her, then...\n\nGreene turned away after memorizing the face of the kid. He felt sick." ]	4
	[WP] You die and find yourself a ghost, haunting a house that you are unable to leave. You instinctively know that to ascend to heaven you must possess an object in the house for one day without the inhabitant of the house touching said object. It has been 3 years since you became a ghost.	[ "no....No....NO! DON'T pick me up kid! You have 100s of toys to do with add you please and you just had to come over here. \n\n Ugh, I swear only a 16 month old would find me, a silly little piece of \"dinosaur poo\" buried amongst the other knick knacks on the bookshelf. If only you knew how long I've been trapped in this house. Just wait till you pass from this life kid, and have to move from object to object. Until you haven't been touched for a whole day to finally move on to heaven. \n\n\"Ha ha, Mike, looks like Tommy wants to study dino crap too! Just like his old man.\" The friend of Mike's teased. They both worked at the local college, in the history department, Mike in archeological studies, the other just a substitute teacher. \n\n\"Guess so, ha ha who knew toddlers could teach so high!\"\n\nOh well tomorrow is another day. ", "Who would have thought? Pain isn’t only for the living. I’ve never been electrocuted by a flame while I lived, but I guess this is how it feels like. If only people knew how well being alive feels. It’s like a school boy’s life vs an adult having a career.\n\nFor us on the other side, existence is hard. When you are out here, released from the carbon world, you’ll truly realize the meaninglessness of life - or existence. It’s all a game. An endless strange parable. Out here we can see him. The cynic creator playing his masochistic game. \n\nIt’s like he is in the center of my vision, and no matter where I look he will be there in the background, all transparent and touching himself while studying his creations exposing themselves in vulnerable positions. He’s an masturbation addict. At least so they say. The elders. Those who have been away from the carbon world for centuries, out here fighting a battle for who knows what.\n\nI have met some of them in the years since my last death. How they are able to endure this constant pain for so long, I don’t know. Maybe they came to a point where they just gave up on returning. They say that we are his creations. They say the pain we feel is how he controls us, why we can’t break free from this endless carrousel. \n\nLuckily we can return back to the carbon world. Back to life. The creator has made it easy for us. If you are lucky enough to be eaten, you’ll be born as a living being again. Those lucky bastards don’t even get a second out here. Us that get burned to death, we are the unlucky ones. We have to make our own way back to life.\n\nWhy it so, I don’t know. And why my quest has been this hard I don’t know. To get away from this pain and back into the blissful ignorant living world, I am supposed to bind myself to an object for a day, and this is happening in a random house I got spawned into, back when I died last time. WHY?\n\nMy luck had me put in a muslim man’s house. He doesn’t believe in worldly possessions. He lives his life by The Quran. Has no wife or kids. If only he knew what the creator uses his time on. Bruhama, as his name is, the Muslim man, barely do anything in this house besides sleeping on his mattress, praying on his mat, reading and nurturing his leather bound Quran.\n\nMaybe one day he'll lose his faith." ]	2
	[WP] A werewolf is held as a prisoner/pet by the super rich. Now, they plan an escape.	[ "I thought I was smart about my curse. Thought if I only let myself loose in the back country on full moon nights, I wouldn't cause anyone harm. I'd stay out of people's way, stay out of sight. But of course, rich people sometimes have super fancy shmancy houses out in the back country, and I walked too close to one. Like a total idiot. I hear yelling, something hits me in the side, and the next thing I know I wake up and I'm here.\n\nDuring the day, \"here\" is a corporate building. Grand, stark, lots of big geometric spaces with white walls and marble and glass, all that stuff. All the sorts of things a wild animal hates. During the night, \"here\" is a mansion, presumably the same mansion where I was caught. It's a grand manor with vaulted ceilings and chandeliers and paintings everywhere. I'm not on a leash, but there's a certain heavy collar around my neck, and I know very well now which doors in either building will send electricity shooting through my body if I try to pass at certain times of day. Harnessed to my back is a frame that holds a perfectly round moon rock, a genuine artifact from one of the Apollo missions, illuminated by an LED. I am perpetually under a full moon. I am forever a beast. And yes, because I know you're going to ask, I've already tried to disassemble everything. I've tried to free myself. Everything is locked onto me. I'm stuck. Master keeps all the keys on his person, and I can't make threatening motions around him. I regret it every time I try.\n\nI don't know how long it's been. I don't know the passage of time anymore. I'm losing my mind. Staying in this form isn't natural. My mind's in a haze half the time. I feel weak. I fear I've forgotten how to speak, how to walk upright. I have to get out of here. I have to leave, before it's too late, before I lose myself. But I can't leave. I can't. I'm stuck.\n\nI whimper and lean against Master's leg. He mistakes it for needy affection and scratches me behind the ears. He continues speaking to the stranger sitting on the opposite side of his desk, and I tune out the conversation once more. Maybe I'll allow myself to doze while I wait for this meeting to be done. There's nothing better to do. I lean into his leg again and drift off.\n\n\"Come on now, Ferox,\" comes a voice after some time, cutting through my consciousness.\n\nI snap awake at the mention of my name and look up at Master, who is scratching my ear again. I hesitate. How long have I thought of him as Master? How long have I answered to \"Ferox\" without a second thought? Have I sunk so low as to act like a common hound?\n\n\"--get you home for dinner, okay?\" Master continues. I missed whatever he was just saying, but dinner sounds nice. I nod. He rises from his office chair and moves to the door, and I trot alongside him obediently. I could easily stand taller than him, but I stay hunched lower than his shoulder to show deference. I know about the remote control he keeps on his keychain. He can turn my collar on and off when he wills. I do not disobey him. Disobeying him hurts. I follow him through the building and down to his car without thinking much about it. I know the routine like the back of my paw. I leap into my seat in the back of the car, and we're on our way to the manor.\n\nDinner at the manor is steak. That's standard fare for me, but it's somewhat strange for Master. Oh well. I eat my dinner quickly, as usual. It doesn't take long to wolf down a steak when you're, well, a wolf. I'm still hungry, as always. I plop down next to Master's chair and make begging eyes up at him before I realize I'm doing it. Why do I act like this? It's embarrassing! But it seems to work, and he passes me an extra piece of meat. I gulp it down.\n\nI look back up at him when he starts with the scratching again. He does that a lot. It feels nice, though. I whuff and lean into the touch.\n\n\"Oh, you like that, boy? I think you like that.\" Master's tone is affectionate. I feel suddenly sick to my stomach. This is humiliating. This is undignified. And yet I accept it, as if I have resigned myself to my fate at some point but can't remember making the choice. I'm not a dog, I'm a werewolf! I am a proud monster!\n\nBut the scritches feel so nice. I look up at Master and give him puppy eyes.\n\nHe adjusts his scratching pattern to get under my chin. \"Is that right, Ferox?\" he says, as if I had spoken. \"You don't want to be a bad boy anymore? You want to be a good dog?\"\n\nI hesitate. I almost growl. No, I don't want to be a good dog, I want to be free. But at the last split second, I resist the urge to growl. My mind has started whirring hard for the first time in a long, long time. Does he know how much of the human in me remains? \n\nHe takes my head in both hands and is playing with my ears now. \"What was that, boy? You do want to be a good dog?\"\n\nThis is risky, but I might just be lucky enough to pull it off. I tilt my head sideways in his hands in that same way I remember my Lab doing when I was a kid. Wins human hearts every time.\n\nHe keeps rubbing my head, but the smile on his face grows dark. \"My, how the mighty have fallen,\" he says quietly. \"You, reduced to a dog.\"\n\nUgh, I want to bite him for that. But he will shock me if I do, and my plan will be ruined. I try my absolute hardest not to flinch at his words.\n\n\"You don't even know what I'm saying anymore, do you?\"\n\nOh, I do. You have no idea. This is a good sign, though. He thinks I'm farther gone than I am. I hide my thoughts by wagging my tail and placing my paws on the side of his chair so I can push myself up. I start licking the side of his face.\n\nHe laughs a little, and then, after a pause, he hugs me. I try not to twitch in surprise. He's hugging me! And when he speaks again, the dominant tone in his voice is gone, replaced by affection again. \"Just a big ol' puppy at the end of the day, huh?\" he croons into my neck fur.\n\nI can't mess this up. I'll never get this chance again if I mess this up. I nuzzle into his hair. Just another moment. Another moment. I'm glad he can't see my calculating eyes from here. He pats my side. I nuzzle his neck. Right…here.\n\nI bite.\n\nA brief moment of silence. Then strangled screaming. Human blood on my tongue. I snarl and clamp down harder. Human blood! It energizes me like the steaks never could. It doesn't take any longer than a minute for Master to collapse motionless in his chair. His blood is in the process of ruining his nice carpet. I don't know who will be in charge of cleaning that up, but it sure as hell won't be me. I lick my chops. At last, at long last, I do what I have wanted to do for God knows how long: I slip my paw into his inner coat pocket, remove his keys, and get to work." ]	1
	[WP] Superman must fight his most devious nemesis yet: Florida Man.	[ "Superman landed a dozen feet away from his foe, whose face looked bloody and mangled. The shirtless man had a hostage, an elderly woman. In his other hand, he menacingly held aloft a water moccasin, a notoriously venomous snake.\n\n\"Okay, mister,\" Superman said, calmly, \"I'm going to ask you nicely, put down the snake. No one needs to get hurt today.\"\n\n\"Shut up, Superman!\" the man scoffed, \"You'll keep your distance or else my little pet here will have his way with this FUCK! Aw, fuck, he bit me! He bit me! What the fuck!? What the fuck!?\"\n\nSuperman reached a hand out in concern, but froze in place when the man drew his hostage closer as he nursed his now-swelling arm.\n\n\"Sir, how about we go to the hospital to get that arm checked?\" Superman asked the villain politely.\n\n\"I'm fine! I'm fine! Fuck, where'd he go? I can't believe I lost another one...\"\n\n\"Another one?\" Superman raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"Yeah, I was going to have a snake on each arm, but I don't know what happened to my King Cobra...\"\n\n\"Perhaps it's better that you don't have it here...\" Superman suggested.\n\n\"Shut it, Superman! You makin' fun of me? You're going to pay!\"\n\nThe Man of Steel watched carefully to see if the man would try to harm his prisoner, but instead the caped villain threw a projectile at him. Relieved, he stood in place, unworried about what was sure to be a harmless attack.\n\nOr nearly so. Superman found himself shocked to find a cold, wet feeling streak across his outfit as the hit landed, followed shortly after by a foul, rotten smell.\n\n\"What... what did you just throw at me?\" Superman stammered, \"Is th.... is this potato salad?\"\n\n\"I have been drinking and taking Xanax,\" the villain taunted, \"what do you expect me to do?\"\n\n\"Okay, mister,\" Superman spoke with a hint of restrained anger, \"I'm losing my patience with you.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah?\" the villain retorted, \"Come on, beat me. I love it.\"\n\n\"Superman!\" the hostage shouted, \"He's crazy! He shot himself in the face, set fire to my home, and started masturbating in front of the windows!\"\n\n\"That's... disturbi-\" Superman began, before being cut off.\n\n\"And at the Burger King!\" she added.\n\nSuperman sighed. This was going to be another one of those days...\n\n----------\n\nFlorida Man's moves all inspired by Top 100 posts on /r/FloridaMan :\n\n[Florida Man plays with Water Moccasin, is not as invincible as he thought.](https://www.reddit.com/r/FloridaMan/comments/3m3lfp/florida_man_plays_with_water_moccasin_is_not_as/)\n\n[oops... Florida Man loses non-native, venomous, 8ft King Cobra snake](https://www.reddit.com/r/FloridaMan/comments/3jhjhg/ooops_florida_man_loses_nonnative_venomous_8ft/)\n\n[Potato salad-throwing Florida Man to cops: 'I have been drinking and taking Xanax, what do you expect me to do?'](https://www.reddit.com/r/FloridaMan/comments/3fzwu1/potato_saladthrowing_florida_man_to_cops_i_have/)\n\n[Florida Woman drives drunk, crashes, tells cops \"Beat me, I love it\"](https://www.reddit.com/r/FloridaMan/comments/3aa2nf/florida_woman_drives_drunk_crashes_tells_cops/)\n\n[Florida man, disfigured from a self-inflicted shotgun blast to the face, sets fire to apartment complex after management requests that he stop masturbating in front of windows and open doors](https://www.reddit.com/r/FloridaMan/comments/1x6lby/florida_man_disfigured_from_a_selfinflicted/)\n\n[Florida man arrested for \"having it his way\" and masturbating at Burger King.](https://www.reddit.com/r/FloridaMan/comments/3k4ug7/florida_man_arrested_for_having_it_his_way_and/)", "\"Superman! You defeated Florida Man in what must have been, in a spectator's terms, your easiest fight to date. What do you have to say?\"\n\n\"Well Susan, coming into this fight I was a bit concerned; I had no idea what I was in for. Was it going to be a fight or, not so much of a fight? I really had no idea. This guy's been on the new so many times, I mean, it's absurd how much press he gets. I had to look through his reports history and some news agency's were saying he could time travel, which was the biggest threat coming into this fight, in my opinion. But, then you had, these uh, other, stranger, if that's how I should put it, articles which showed a different side to any criminal I have had to come in contact with. Which is saying something too, you know; I've had the pleasure of fighting some of the most diabolical beings on the planet, and I think this guy was the, strangest, I guess. Yeah, that's how I would put it. The strangest.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by strange Superman?\"\n\n\"I don't want to get too into it, some of the stuff he's done is not for all audiences, if you know what I mean Susan. The kids shouldn't hear me talk about him in too much detail, but, for the people who are interested in this guys history, I'd say the weirdest incident is the burger king one. Now the fight itself was-\n\n\"What happened during the burger king incident and why did it frighten you?\"\n\n\"I, uh, I can't say. I told you that already. This interview's gone a bit too far in the wrong direction I think.\" \n\n\"Are you hiding something from the city Superman? Did you not fight the real Florida Man?\"\n\n\"I did fight the real Florida man! All I was saying is that I don't want to say what he did on to the television audience. It's not appropri-\n\n\"This just in, Superman is afraid to tell the truth to the viewers at home, what could he possib-\n\n\"OK DO YOU WANT TO KNOW SUSAN? HUH? DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW? BECAUSE IT SEEMS LIKE YOU DO, SO I'M GONNA TELL YOU. HE MASTERBATED IN PUBLIC, OK? RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE KIDS HE PULLED OUT HIS DICK AND MASTERBATED IN THE BURGER KING PARKING LOT. WHO FUCKING DOES THAT SUSAN? THAT'S WHY I WAS CONCERNED! WHO THE FUCK MASTERBATES IN THE BURGER KING PARKING LOT!\"\n\nclick\n\nWith the T.V now off, Superman has nothing of interest left in the living room, other than the jenga puzzle on the small table in front of the couch, the one he just got up from. The one which he got on clearance because it sucks your butt up and doesn't let go, but since he's Superman, if you remember, he does not have to worry about his butt getting sucked up because of his impressive glute strength.\n\nHe shuffles down the main hallway wearing his pink bunny slippers. He walks like a sad depressed Superhero who embarrassed himself on national television.\n\n\"Fucking Susan. She's always gotta push me a little bit more doesn't she?\"\n\nWell Superman, we all sympathize with you and everything, but you brought this upon yourself. And to all of you out there take this next statement personally, for it will greatly help you in a time of need: never, I repeat never, start fucking a reporter when you are a Superhero. The minute you leave her, which is inevitable, because you are a superhero and are irresistible, is the minute you write your death sentence. As Superman just learned. Shame on you Superman, you should have been paying attention in superhero dating class." ]	2
	[WP] You are invited on Maury, and the DNA test shows you are your own father.	[ "\"Which is, of course, completely impossible and you must feel moronic for believing it.\" Maury chuckles, sipping his yerba mate latte and looking especially polished today. You gape at him like a idiot. You've just been looking at your hands, as if they were a nexus, nay, loci of ancient powers.\n\n\"But,\" you protest, \"time travel isn't all that impossible. We all travel forward in time and despite what Professor Hawking says, some backwards travel is possible. What if my future self --\"\n\nHis boisterous laugh cuts you off.\n\n\"I'm not just some talk show host, you know. I went to Baylor for biochemistry. You think it's possible for a genetic test to reveal that you fathered yourself? How do you think genetics or genetic testing works at all?\"\n\n\"Enlighten me,\" you say in a huff.\n\n\"All a paternity test can say is that you share a particular number of alleles, at upwards to 20 sites, with the target. We tested some candidates, your mother, and yourself. What do you think it means if we matched you with you?\"\n\n\"That I'm my father?\"\n\n\"No. It means you share all the alleles at all the sites with yourself. You don't need a $1k test to tell you that, though. Try Genetics 101. Any freshman would tell you that such an experiment is logically inconsistent. If your genes recombined with your own mother -- to put it politely -- then think about it, you would not be able to produce a child with genes absolutely identical to their father.\"\n\n\"But then what's up with the banner and the confetti-laden rafters? And why do I see Jerry Springer lurking back there? Hi, Jerry.\"\n\nMaury waves offstage. \"That's for his own paternity case. You're not here for our paternity segment, you're here for our annual UNEDUCATED SIMPLETONS segment.\"\n\n\"Sooo... do I still get the five hundred?\"", "More Charlie: /r/CharliesWildAdventure\n\nPart 26\n___\n“Well Jesus, I have good news and bad news.” Maury exclaimed, looking down at his cards. He paused letting the tension build, “The good news is you’re not the father!”\n\nJesus looked extremely relieved. Jessica, some girl he must have banged last year stormed off the stage with her baby. “Doesn’t even look like me.” Jesus thought to himself.\n\n“The bad news however, is that you are your own father!”\n\nThe audience gasped, and Jesus rolled his eyes. “No BLEEP, I’m Jesus BLEEP Christ. Haven’t you ever heard of the me damned holy trinity?”\n\n“Well, that isn’t everything. This wasn’t just a paternity test Jesus. Your friends are all back stage right now. Come on out guys!”\n\nCharlie, Jenn, and the Sir John all walked out onto the stage. Jesus looked puzzled. “The bleep are you guys doing here?”\n\n“This is an intervention Jesus. Your porn addiction is just..” Jenn started.\n\n“We need our attic back.” Charlie shrugged. “It’s taking up a lot of space, and like, probably isn’t healthy for you man.”" ]	2
	[wp] NSFW "I'd rather go out like this, Old age is for pussies."	[ "\"You sure I can't get you something? That looks really painful.\"\n\n\"Of course it is. There's an arrow in my chest,\" he wheezed. \"Bring me some whiskey. I'd like a good buzz before I meet the devil.\"\n\nI smiled at him. \"Yeah,\"I said, nodding. \"I'll be right back.\"\n\n\"And son,\" he called. I could barely hear him. \"If you show up down there and you ain't an old man, I'll kick your ass.\"", "I looked sideways at him, his blonde hair flapping around his big, dumb grin from the wind at this height. He was looking off into the sunset, and I wondered what he was seeing for a moment. Certainly not the drop, certainly not the obvious tear on the strap of his pack.\n\n\"Why don't you - why don't we both just go down and get another pack? I can wait.\"\n\nHe shook his head serenely, and gestured out with one hand.\n\n\"Look at that, man. I don't wanna feel old, I don't wanna start thinking about the future yet. I wanna keep chasing that sunset, you know?\" He looked sideways at me too, and behind his grin I saw a flicker of fear. Not for the drop, yawning out at our feet, but for something else. He meant it. He turned back to the view, and repeated what he'd said, bracing himself. Running from something deeper than the drop.\n\n\"I'd rather go out like this. Old age is for pussies.\"" ]	2
	[WP] You die and go to Hell. You find out that Hitler isn't there. What gives?	[ "I'd been in hell for a while. I wasn't here for anything to bad just ... turns out all those little things you do in life add up. Taking a pen from an office, not telling a cashier they'd given you to much change, eating things in the supermarket without paying for it ... Silly small things you don't think about when people ask if you've ever done anything wrong.\n\nTurns out they count all those little day to day acts of kindness and cruelty as well as any grand sacrifice or great evil that you do. In the end my negative points outweighed the good so I ended up here. \n\nFunny thing but it's not that bad, for people like me anyway. Hell isn't like you think. No fires or pits, just rooms. Hell is a billion billion rooms connected by bland hallways stretching out in all directions. \n\nEach person gets a room to themselves. And each one is unique to their punishment. I count pennies. It seems I was sent here for theft, or rather not paying enough when splitting the check at restaurants. Minor sins have minor punishments so mine is to count pennies. Everyday, at least I think it's every day since time is flexible here, I get a box of pennies delivered to my room. I count them up, bag them and make a note of the amount in my account book. \n\nThen I wander around meeting people. Most of us are here for minor things so there's plenty of time to go out into the halls and chat in-between folding clothes or putting up wallpaper or any of the other dull tasks assigned to us.\n\nBut after a while I noticed something odd. Or rather someone missing. \n\nThe truely evil can't leave their rooms as their punishment never ends. Their doors were continuously sealed shut, without even a door handle to catch onto by accident. The only way to know who was in there was to read the small name plate on the door. After reading a few you were glad they couldn't get out. Certain hallways are a 'who's who' of history's most infamous. But I never saw the most obvious one. \n\nThe knock at my door was my chance to find out why. The creatures who worked here weren't like you imagined, I'd never seen a coven hoof or horn. They were more like shadows that had peeled themselves up from the floor. Half seen shapes that you had trouble focusing on. This one was holding my new box of pennies. \n\nI took the box but as it turned to go I called to it. \"Wait, I have a question?\"\n\nIt paused, half turned away from me, shimmering between existence and oblivion.\n\n\"I just wondered ... I mean ... I was looking around and ...\" I didn't know how to bring this up tactfully.\n\n\"Wh-ut iz et?\" The shadow gasped. We didn't talk to them often as it was uncomfortable to hear their voices. Like words sighed into your ear, except from inside your skull.\n\n\"I just ... Look he's got to be here somewhere! I've looked all over, but I can't see his room. I mean I don't want to see him, I don't like him as much as anyone else but ... Well it's just something you find yourself looking for isn't it.\"\n\n\"Wh-ooo.\"\n\n\"I know it's a stupid question but ... Hitler is in hell right?\"\n\nThe creature seemed to twist on itself and face me. Well as much as a faceless creature can.\n\n\"Hh-tlerr iz n-oo-t h-eer.\"\n\n\"What! Why?\" I was truely shocked. My mind tried to think up a valid reason on how he could escape coming here when so many better people were walking these eternal halls.\n\nThe shadow flickered and spoke before finally vanishing.\n\n\"Ef-en wh-ee ha-v stah-deds.\"\n\n\n", "I could only feel the cold now. And to think moments ago I had been burning.\n\nThe pain hadn't been long. You wouldn't expect it to be long when you fall into molten steel. But of its magnitude, there was no doubt that it was of another level. The steel burning its way through your skull, melting your limbs, with the only sound you can hear is people shouting and cursing. It wasn't exactly how I ever dreamed I was going to die. I reckon that no one must. I had expected something better. With my grandchildren smiling at me and with my wife Rosie holding my hand. In a bed in some stupid hospital. \n\nBut those thoughts were futile now. That would never happen. I was dead in some furnace I fell into while on a tour of Ivaco Rolling Mills, Ontario. And all thanks to Phil. It was his idea to go on this stupid Sunday trip. He kept telling Rosie how fun it would be. How it would refresh a book writer like me to go see some heavy duty Canadian machinery. Rosie, as always, was so excited at the mention of 'refreshing' me that she accepted. \n\n\"You need some refreshment, honey. This writing business is pretty gloomy.\"\n\n\"A Rolling Mill won't be any fun either.\"\n\n\"Yes it will. It'll be a nice experience. It's only for a couple hours. Plus, Phil already talked to the foreman. He's arranged everything.\"\n\nAnd so here I was. Dead. \n\nIt didn't actually feel any different. They say you feel some sort of peace. You feel a certain tranquility that isn't attainable in mortal life. But I should have figured that was a lie. They also say the age of everyone in the afterlife is 33. I, on the other hand, still feel 42. The one thing I do feel is like i'm falling. The priest were wrong about that too. I should have been floating up with angels singing around my head.\n\n*************************************************************************************************\n\n\"Wait! Who the fuck are you?\"\n\n\"I'm an angel, you mortal dumbfuck. Can't you tell?\"\n\nWell that was a shock. The thing infront of me was hideous. In no way could I call it an angel. In no way could I call this heaven. The place was all damp and smelt like smoke. I was in some sort of room. Even the walls in this room were cracked all over. This place could collapse any moment!\n\n\"Forgive me, Sir. You certainly don't look like The Church decribed you a little different. They say you have feathery wings and a halo above your head\" I replied. That was the best one I could ever think of at a moment like this.\n\nIts eyes narrowed. Then it started giving me the most ugly grin I had ever witnessed.\n\n\"You're in Jkatlopazer.\" he said to me. I could smell his breath from ten feet away. It wasn't good.\n\nI wasn't well versed in any of the Testaments. I figure Jkatlopazer should written about in the Old one.\n\nI'll stay silent till he tells me more.\n\nI do that for about 5 seconds before he starts talking again.\n\n\"Hell. Your in hell. You humans have so many names, don't you?\"\n\nWell fuck.\n\nI'm in hell. Now I start to understand why I was falling. And this room, the smoke. This guy! He's probably a fallen angel!\n\n\"I thought this was hea-\"\n\n\"SHUT UP NOW! I know what you thought. Well your in Hell, and will stay here forever. I'll be with you seven minutes after which you get out of this room and go live your afterlife. You have used up 4 minutes. You have three minutes to ask me whatever you want before I be rid of you.\"\n\nSeven minutes? And I'VE used up four of them? No i haven't! You have you stupid big fat piece of shit!\n\n\"Nothing to ask? You can leave early.\"\n\n\"No No No. Questions. Yes, i have questions. Can I ever be promoted to Heaven. You know, like with good conduct and all?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"I mean like if I do good here? Can I talk to the Devil and go to heaven?\"\n\n\"No. And his name is Lucifer. You will not refer to him as 'the Devil' outside this room or you will be sent to a lower level of hell. His level. He will deal with you personally then.\"\n\nYeah. Sounds cool motherfucker.\n\n\"So nobody goes to heaven? What i'm trying to say is- Has anyone ever gone to Heaven from Hell.\"\n\n\"No they haven't and no you will not either. Ever. You won't even be reborn like your human priests say.\"\n\n\"So I'm stuck here forever?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" I swear the creature was smiling during that last response of his.\n\n\"Well then, any celebrities I can meet here, if not the Devi- Lucifer! If not Lucifer.\" I have to learn how to not say the Devil.\n\n\"Yes. All your great leaders are here. Alexander, Cassius, Attila, Ghengis, Napolean, Laden, you name it.\"\n\n\"No, those aren't celebrities. Is David Bowie here?\"\n\n\"Nobody by the mortal name David Bowie is in hell.\"\n\nGood. I liked the guy, even though I didn't know him.\n\n\"You know the 'mortal' anme of everyone here?\"\n\n\"Yes. It's my job.\"\n\n\"Paul Walker?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Ah fuck it. Let's continue with the evil leaders. Hitler?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"I said Adolf Hitler.\"\n\n\"I know your talking about him. The mortal was very famous in your realm. He isn't here.\"\n\n\"So he's in some lower level?\"\n\n\"He is is no level of Jkatlopazer.\"\n\nWell I'll be damned! Why am I here then? I didn't even kill anybody!\n\n\"Why?\" I ask him, with immense curiosity.\n\n\"You time here is up mortal. Go outside before I kick you out.\"\n\n************************************************************************************************************\n\nThis is like one of my first writing prompts. Could someone please tell me how it was and suggest improvements? THANK YOU FOR READING!!*", "Day 3: \n\nI received my place today, my room for the rest of eternity. I have a nice roommate, Cyril. An accountant while back on the green and blue. He's been here a while. A little boring, but he was able to fill me in on some things.\n\nHe said he suspected the reason they don't give us a \"welcoming party\" anymore, just leave us in a waiting room until they find a spot, is that there was actually an uprising against the Red Guy a while ago. He tried to explain the timeframe to me, it could have been weeks, it could have been years, but not being on a plane of existence where time is relative, it could have been tomorrow.\n\nThere was to be a big day of celebration when the leader of The Third Reich passed on. They had generated the largest inflowing of, what I would suppose you would call \"Refugees\" in some time. The Red Guy was excited. This person was to have a high seat at the ruling council. Apparently there was a few people who didn't like Martin Luthers methods of doing things and wanted him pulled from his post.\n\nThen the time arrived, Eva and Adolf, finally down to celebrate. The Red Guy was ecstatic. Eva had finally arrived. \n\nI questioned further. \n\nEva? \n\nMy shock was shared with everyone apparently. There was millions there, ready to cheer on the man with the small moustache, but were shocked to find that Eva ran everything? \n\nThe Red guy hadn't seen anything like it. He didn't expect the crowd to get so riled up. He tried to send us back to our rooms. He even started threatening the crowd with the lake of Sulphur, but since that punishment hadn't been used in what could have been 1000 years, noone took him seriously.\n\nWithin an hour, he had boarded himself into his main office with Eva and Adolf.\n\nApparently then he did something he hadn't done in an extreme length of non-existant time and asked his new assistant Nelson to place a call to the Light man. Noone should have known about it, but Nelson always did like to make speeches.\n\nAs it turns out, The Red Guy asked the Light Guy to take Eva and Adolf to the Light place. They agreed that it would perhaps be better for the overall environments to send them up there. They agreed that being stuck with 144,000 Mormons would be worse punishment than anything that could be thrown in down here.\n\nIt's funny. The more I learn of The Red Guy, the more I don't mind him. Apparently he decided to shorten his name to Lucy a while ago and tossed the idea of Sulphur lakes and Punishments. I just wish they had bathrooms. They were right when they said \"Suffering without Release.\"" ]	3
	[WP] Everyone knows the monsters come out after dark. "After dark" is technically morning, when humans "come out."	[ "Linda stepped out cautiously from the door at the bottom of her apartment building. Children played stick ball under the 4AM lamp light. Linda walked slowly over the sidewalk to the curb and took a seat to spectate the game. She had noticed the boys through the window of her apartment above. Linda slept infrequently and spent most of her nights peering out the window of her apartment. \n\nA little boy in ragged clothing playing an outfield position near Linda noticed the clean dark haired girl seated on the edge of their playing field. He immediately removed his attention from the gameplay and approached her.\n\nLinda grew nervous while the scruffy little boy approached and locked his pale blue eyes with hers. “Hi,” the little boy started as he entered an arm’s length speaking distance, “who are you?”\n\nLinda looked up to the boy from her squatted position. She figured the boy to be around her age, nine years old. She looked over the other. She judged from a distance that they too were about her age, give or take two years. A rank scent reminded her she had been addressed by the boy desperately in need of a bath in front of her, “I live here.” She pointed behind her at the apartment building without looking back. \n\nThe boy looked up the endless rows of windows. Only a few strayed from the rest, glowing with fluorescent yellow light from within. One stood out, about half-way up, with an illuminated pale red cloth pulled over its face. “Which one’s you?” the boy said and pointed at the windows.\n\nThe girl thought hard at the unfamiliar question, “456.”\n\n“I don’t know what that means,” The boy admitted. “Point.” He again pointed at the building.\n\nLinda stood up and next to the boy in the street. She looked the building over with the boy. “I’m not sure.” The two remained admiring the specs of light on the dark face of the building like stars in the night sky. The building they admired neighbored and faced numerous other buildings slightly different but all the same with stray rectangles of light. The hot, sticky summer air did not move at all in the valley between the towering structures but felt refreshing relative to the hotter and stickier air of midday.\n\nThe boy broke the silence with anticipation, “Is it the red one?” Pointing once more. \n\nLinda noticed the window the boy referenced. She knew her window did not have a red shade. “I don’t think so,” Linda let the boy down gently.\n\nThe boy, disappointed, redirected his attention from the glowing red window to look Linda in the eyes. “I knew which one was mine on my building. My dad pointed it out when we first moved into the city. I could still point to it if I went there now.”\n\nLinda wished her dad had pointed her building out to her sometime. Linda decided to ask him next time they were together but grew doubtful that her dad would ever be around and have the free time to do so. “Your mom and dad lets you play at night? And all of their moms and dads too?” Linda said and looked back at the boys in the street playing stick ball. \n\nThe boy again remembered the game taking place and grew anxious to resume playing. “We don’t have moms and dads. Not anymore.”\n\nLinda couldn’t comprehend what the boy was saying and purposely gave the boy a look of bewilderment. \n\n“We didn’t like working in the factory. When Micky fell in-” the boy stopped and looked at the gray pavement beneath his worn shoes. “After the machine killed Micky a week ago, we decided to leave and never go back.” The boy looked expectantly for change in Linda’s face. Linda’s face did not change.\n\nLinda’s mind, unfamiliar with the concept of death, did not linger on the weight of what had happened to Micky, “You don’t go home to your parents? Ever?”\n\nThe boy returned from his inward stare, “Not since. Most of us don’t miss em’ much. We didn’t see them much anyways. We were always at the factory and when we were home we were only sleeping anyways.”\n\nLinda struggled to grasp the idea of children running free without the guidance or safety of parents.\n\nThe little boy felt responsible for the pathetic look on Linda’s face. He tried his best to elaborate, “We get to play all night now. While morning starts, we walk to a new part of the city looking like all the others going to work. When we find a good alley with a good dumpster, next to a restaurant maybe, we look for some food from the night before and get some sleep after. We don't have to be one of the people out on the streets just going to work every morning. We get to just be people. We get to do what we want, not just working and sleeping. We don't just live to work.”\n\n“What about your parents?” Linda asked.\n\n“They don’t have to feed us anymore. I hope it makes things easier for them. My mom was always saying things like ‘How we gonna feed these kids?’ I hope see doesn’t have to worry like that anymore.”\n\n“They aren’t looking for you guys?”\n\nThe boy thought for a moment. “Not sure.” He looked back at the game developing behind him. One of the boys connected well and the rock landed in the boy standing now with Linda’s previous position on the playing field. Another boy ran over to it. \n\n“What you doin Alan?! Game’s goin! Come on!” the boy who ran to the rock yelled at the boy next to Linda.\n\nAlan tried to ignore him. “I don’t know if they’re looking for us. That’s why we gotta go to a new part of the city every morning.” Alan grew increasingly anxious to step back into his position in the game before the teams switched sides. “I don’t think our parents have the time to be out searchin’ for kids, but maybe the police knows. Maybe our parents told them.”\n\nLinda stared expectantly at the boy waiting for more information. The boy looked back at the game again. “I gotta go play,” the boy informed Linda.\n\n“Oh, alright.” Linda said, thoroughly disappointed. Alan turned and took his position on the game field. Linda turned and observed the spectacle of the boys playing under the lamplight. She tried her best to take it all in for a moment. She hoped she could make more sense of it all in the morning. \n\nLinda turned back to her apartment and made her way to the door. She opened it and looked at Alan once more hoping to have his attention to wave goodbye to him. Alan’s focus did not leave the game. Linda made her way inside and back up to her room. She spent the rest of the night watching the boys play from her window.\n\nThe sun began to rise and the boys up and left as people began to head out for work. Linda still could not fathom all that the boys were doing. After they were gone, she remained peering out the window, deciding whether or not she should discuss the happening with her parents. She knew her parents could make sense of it all, but she didn’t want to get in trouble for going out at night. \n\nShe decided not to. Linda decided the boys and their bizarre lifestyle would be special knowledge she would have that her parents would not have. This little tidbit would belong to her and only her. This would be something she would have for herself. No sharing with her parents and brothers. A piece of her own life, independent of the family unit.\n", "I was terrified. The comfy, dark shadows of my closet were ablaze with flickering light, the pale face of the human framed its dark, fearsome eyes. I hid inside of one of the coats, the only sound echoing in the dark room was the pounding of our hearts and the deep breaths of the human. I couldn't breath. It seemed like an eternity before the flight was switched off and the door clicked close. I was still terrified. I slowly sat down and rocked myself. My slender, dark, furry form quaked. My yellow eyes were shut. It took me a while to calm myself. I couldn't just move. My girlfriend was bound here and she was expecting baby shadows. They needed a father.\n\nLater that night I escaped my own closet and went to hers. She gave me hug. \n\n\"I missed you. Hang on.... You look off... What's up?\" \n\n\"Just a close call with the humans.\"\n\n\"Darling... Are you alright?\"\n\n\"I'm fine, don't worry about me. You look so lovely tonight!\"\n\nShe did look lovely. Eight shadowy arms, nine eyes with just the right slant glowed in a bright red. Long, slender legs that ended before they could reach feet and instead she would float. A bump on her belly... It was going to be twins, a boy and a girl. \n\n\"Moooooooooooom! There's someone in my closet!\" A shrill scream came from outside.\n\n\"Hide!\" I whispered. Apperently I didn't need to say it. She had already dove into a pile of laundry. \n\nI heard the door outside open and murmuring. I quietly crawled into a big fluffy costume cloak on the floor. Just on time. The door to the closet opened and light streamed in. Two humans walked in. I held my breath. \n\nI peeked slightly from my hiding place. The light burned my eyes, but I could see a blurry image of what was going on. The bigger human motioned to turn off the light but was stopped by the smaller human. The big one chuckled and said something.\n\n\"Hun, you told me you would clean your room. That does not mean to shove it all into your closet. You probably accidentally swept up the cat alongside all of your stuff.\" The bigger one started to pick up stuff while calling \"kitty kitty kitty, here Miss Bites. Miss bites...\"\n\nHorror and helplessness washed over me when she started to pick up laundry. Slowly she moved towards my girlfriends pile. I shut my eyes. I heard the scream of her burning in the bright light. The screams as the monsters ran away in fear and cowardice to this.\n\nI couldn't feel. I couldn't think. I couldn't do anything. The only sensation was pain. Physical and mental.\n\nI darted from my cloak and turned off the light. I approached the limp body of her. I held her hand.\n\n\"You... You have to... You have to get up.\" I cried. \n\"I can't... d-do anything. I can't feel my hands. I can't even move. Help me. Help me please!\" she wailed. She was fading away. Her eyes closed\n\"No! You stay! What about us? What about our family?\"\nI cradled her. She faded until she was completely gone. I was left only with my tears. \n\n--------------------------------\n\nIt took me days to even get up. I lived in the pile, it offered protection and warmth. When I finally did, I stepped outside. I loved moonlight. It burned slightly, but the cool, moist air, chirping of crickets and frogs, wind whispering in the trees. It was a shame she never got to go outside. She was bound to her room, summoned there by the foolish teenage spawn of the previous owners of the home. I was not, I was just a wanderer.\n\nI could have saved her. I could have distracted the humans. Given her time to run.\n\n\"Too late now.\" A voice came from behind me. It was a girl, she looked perfectly normal, almost human. But she had a beautiful smile of gleaming sharp teeth and her eyes were entirely midnight black, such a lovely shade. She was ethereal, transparent. Not entirely here. Her white hair was so long it dragged behind her, as did her white dress. She had the same appearence as a seven year old girl, her face was smooth and young but with the high cheekbones and chiseled jaw of an adult. Her voice carried the wisdom of the ages, it seemed to echo within her. \n\nThis made me sob. She was right. Some voice inside me told me to toughen up. I told it to shut up.\n\n\"We need to get revenge. We need to kill those... things. I don't even know what they are. I mean, I know they're humans, but completely soulless and evil. They kill us and animals and themselves and each other. How can a creature live that way? I'll help eliminate them in every way I can.\"\n\n\"Why do you wamt to help me?\"\n\n\"You think you're the only one to lose someone to them?\"\n\nAnd that's how I met Mary.\n\n---------------------------------\n\nThe humans left their window open, I could pass through the mesh and Mary could pass through as a wisp of air. A tv sat in the corner of the living room. Mary switched it on. It was staticky.\n\n\"Oh! This is my favorite show!\"\n\nMary had sat in front of the TV. I left her alone. I began to creep up the stairs.\n\ncreee creee creee\n\nThe floor above me creaked. Was one of them awake? I dove under the couch. I could see feet going down the stairs from my position. The walked closer.... closer.... \n\nThey went into the kitchen. I popped my head out and saw them pouring water into a clear cylinder and holding it up to its horrible red mouth. It saw the staticky TV and moved to turn it off. Just then, it saw Mary. It let out a scream and dropped its cylinder. It tripped as it ran away. Vengeance was mine. I walked over to it and pissed on its face. \n\n--------------------------------\n\nI awoke in the middle of the night to a sore throat. I opened my mouth to yawn but it was glued shut, too dry. I was thirsty, so very thirsty. I slowly stood up and headed down the stairs. From the corner of my eye, I saw the cat. It acted all sneaky and dove under the couch. I walked into the kitchen, slowly pouring a glass of water. I could see a reflection of the cat popping its head from under the couch. I walked back towards the stairs, sipping the water. The TV was buzzing. Like a bee. All staticky. Wow I'm hella good at rhyming when half asleep. Maybe I should become a poet? William Sleep-spear? \n\nMy thoughts were interrupted by the big ass spider on the floor. It was huge. Mom saw it the other day when she was putting Josie to bed. I threw my glass at it. Glass shattered and as I turned tail to run away I tripped over my own feet and collapsed. As I did so the cat darted from under the couch crouched down in front of my head. I tried to stand up but I was lazy and my foot was slightly hurt. Also I still felt funny from those gross brownies Josh gave me. \n\nMy tiredness vanished when a stream of cat piss poured from the cat. Because it was pissing. On my face. My screams were replaced with cat piss. The cat darted up the stairs after this. I couldn't see anything. I could only feel the pain of cat piss in my eyes and taste the grossness in my throat.\n\n----------------------------------------\n\nAnd that, kids, is why cats are not allowed to take LSD.\n\n\n\n", "Mama tells us scary stories when it starts to get light outside; sometimes we like to flirt with the sunbeams outside the cave, knowing full well that just brushing one will turn us to stone. \nThe story tonight is about people, who creep out of their homes in the early morning when all the troll-children are asleep. She tells us that when people awake from their sleep they rub their mouth-bones with a hairy stick, drink a cup of crushed bean juice, read the newspaper, and then sneak into troll holes with a club and bonk troll children on the head, carrying them away in a sack.\n\nI didn't believe until I was sleeping one day and heard a whine come from beneath my bed. I peered over the edge slowly and saw one horrible tendril of long, golden hair.\n\nI made eye contact with it, those horrible blue eyes. I screamed. It screamed. I tried to run before it could bonk me on the head with a club and carry me away in a sack, but my feet tangled in the blanket and I fell over, right on top of the little girl.\n\nShe wasn't so scary - sort of pretty actually. But I didn't want her to eat me and use my bones to repair it's car, like Mama says people do to little trolls.\n\n\"Stop! Stop! Please don't eat me!\" the people said. \n\n\"Only if you don't eat me!\" I said, rolling off of her, \"And where did you learn to speak troll?\"\n\n\"We're speaking american, not troll.\" she said. \n\n\"Well if you're not going to eat me, what are you doing in here?\" I said.\n\n\"Hiding...\" she said, rubbing her elbow.\n\nI felt a pang of.. empathy? But I had to keep my guard up. I wouldn't fall for people tricks, like getting a job in sales or having children.\n\n\"Hiding from what?\" I said.\n\n\"A man... a man in the woods who took me from my family's cabins. I think he wants to hurt me, or get money from my dad.\"\n\n\"Did he... put you in a sack?\" I asked. \n\n\"No... but he tied me up and covered my eyes?\" she said.\n\n\"Oh...\" I said. I began to think that perhaps there are good peoples and bad peoples, and that those same bad peoples I was afraid of were the ones trying to hurt the little girl. I didn't want anybody to be taken away in a sack.\n\nSo early that night me, mama, and papa, and all our brothers and sisters went for a stroll in the woods. And when we came across the man carrying some rope and a sack, Mama ate him whole, spat out the bones, and we used them fix our car. \n\n" ]	3
	[WP] In a world where depression is the norm, a content person is seeking therapy.	[ "\"What is that man doing?\"\n\n\"He seems to be moving in a strange way, perhaps he is suffering a stroke.\"\n\n\"Oh, pity.\" \n\n\"What a strange expression. There is something unnerving about that man. He seems mad.\"\n\n\"No one approach him. It could be contagious. Whatever the hell it is that he is suffering.\"\n\nThe man that they are observing is shoeless and is dancing wildly amongst the flowers, and is singing. \n\n\"The wild man is shouting something.\"\n\n\"Madness, I tell you. The man's lost his damn mind.\" \n\n\"What is he doing? What is he blathering on about?\"\n\n\"Ma, what is he doing?\"\n\n\"Go inside, you should not be seeing this.\"\n\nThe wild man notices that a crowd has accumulated on the other side of the road amongst the storefronts. \n\n\"Hello, there! A beautiful day, is it not? The birds are chirping! The flowers are bursting! The world is alive!\"\n\nThe crowd stands and observes the man as if he were a drunk. \n\n\"He speaks of nonsense.\"\n\n\"He has lost his mind.\"\n\n\"Someone call the police.\"\n\n\"They are on their way.\"\n\nThe wild man is now on the ground and rolling around. He brings his face close to the grass and begins crawling. \n\n\"Oh, what is he doing now?\"\n\n\"He seems to be searching for something.\"\n\n\"This is ridiculous. What is he searching for? There is nothing there.\"\n\nThe police arrive and approach the wildman. \n\n\"Sir, we ask that you come with us.\"\n\n\"Good day, officers. What a day to be alive, hmm? May you lie on the ground with me? The world looks awfully different from here. It is quite fun, yes?\"\n\n\"Sir, you are making a scene. This, frankly, is inappropriate behavior.\"\n\n\"Inappropriate behavior? Look around us? It seems that it is all of you that is acting inappropriately. Look around! Do you see what you are missing?\"\n\n\"Sir, calm down. We are needing you to come with us.\"\n\n\"Why is that? Can a man enjoy the day? The grass? The flowers? The trees? The sky? Leave me be! I feel fine!\"\n\n\"Sir, you are acting irrationally. Calm down, and simply come with us. We will be able to return everything to normal.\"\n\nThey slowly creep towards the wildman, and the wildman rolls like a log away from the officers.\n\n\"Oh, dear. He is making a fool of all of them.\"\n\n\"The officers won't take kindly to that.\"\n\n\"No, sir. No they won't.\"\n\nThe officers are able to pile on the wildman, and cuff him and begin escorting him to the car.\n\n\"My brothers and sisters, do you only look upon me and let me suffer this fate?\"\n\nThe crowd stays in silence.\n\n\"Look! Look what is happening! Look around you! Please! There is so much more!\"\n\n\"He truly is mad.\"\n\n\"It seems as he is.\"\n\n\"Oh, pity.\"", "The paintings were crying, every pamphlet outside the office might as well be wet they were so covered in pictures of tears. Henry couldn't remember the last time he cried, when was it? When that girl Kate dumped him most likely but that was almost a year ago. \n\nThe waiting room was a stoic blue room, that muffled teal color doctors said would calm people down. The three other patients waiting to see one of the fifty therapists must have been color blind. They each were weeping; one wiped it off with his sleeve, another old lady pulled a wad of tissues out of her purse the size of a softball and the third was a small teenage girl with mud caked on her cleets. \"Henry Fortane? Ms.Rodriguez will see you now.\" The nurse held the door open for him as he entered the slightly whiter blue hallway.\n\nThey snaked around the desks of nurses before ending in a room with a velvet therapy chair, a beautiful wooden desk, bookshelves with cardboard shapes of books and more of the tearful pamphlets. \"She'll be right in to see you and...may I just say it is so courageous of you to hold back those tears in your eyes. I wish I could be that strong but,\" the nurse walked off without finishing. The door clicked shut but Henry still heard the nurse slip into that sadness everyone else felt was such a weight on him.\n\nHenry waited. He leaned back on the velvety chair, throwing his shoes on the head of it, he found an actual book under the pamphlets and held it over his face. \"The Strange Occurences of Oscar Maltese\" was the title, it sounded like a cheap mash-up of old English literature, based on his quick paging through it he was right. The door creaked open before he could be sure though.\n\nFlipping his legs to a more socially acceptable spot, he stood to greet the therapist, \"good morning Ms. Ridley.\"\n\n\"Good morning Mr.Fortun, now I understand you...well there wasn't much bothering you last time.\" She flipped her single page of notes on Henry from back to front, she was doing what most people did when he cracked an upside down frown.\n\n\"Yes I'm doing pretty good...far better than most people it seems,\" Henry leaned back and set the book where he had found it.\n\n\"Well not all of us can be so lucky as to have a divorce, the third one, three children that won't call you and a publisher that keeps sending your book back saying it 'needs more science'. I can't cram in anymore science if I want an actual human eyeball to grace its cover!\" Ms.Ridley threw up her hands with the rant. Shaking her head, she took a seat.\n\n\"I've never been married...\"\n\n\"No no I'm aware. Those are my things Henry. Most of the time people just jump right into their complaints so I guess this is how react when that doesn't happen...\" Ms.Ridley set her legal pad down on the desk.\n\n\"And how does that make you feel?\" Henry asked.\n\n[END]", "“You're sleeping seven hours a night?”\n\n“Seven. ... Or eight,” Rhea offers, even though it’s been more like six. She hasn’t slept past noon in months.\n\n“And how many hours in a day do you spend resting? Sedentary?”\n\n“... very few.” Her gaze retreats to the toes of her boots, gleaming softly under a fresh coat of polish. “I used to lie on the floor for hours—we had a lovely high pile installed—but now I find myself out and about. Cutting flowers for the kitchen. Walking to the grocery. Sometimes just listening to the birds.” \n\n“Walking? Outside?” \n\n“Yes. And … and busying myself with these … tasks.”\n\n“Could you give me an example?”\n\n“I don’t know. It’s ... a lot of different things. Small things. Like … this morning. Instead of just eating sliced bread straight from the packet, I actually made toast. We didn’t have company over, and it … it wasn’t a holiday or anything, obviously. I just wanted—it’s the strangest thing, you know?\" She laughs. \"I missed the smell of bread warming.”\n\n“And has this … food preparation? When did this start happening?”\n\n“The cooking has been a more recent thing. The cooking and the appetite.”\n\n“Any other changes?”\n\n“Yes. ... Some.\" She pauses. \"I ... I don’t know if I’m comfortable …” \n\n“It’s alright,\" he assures her. \"I’m not going to force you to talk about anything you don't want to. But if you do want to talk, I am here to listen.”\n\nRhea kneads at her skirt with nervous hands.\n\n“Doctor,\" she says, slowly. \"I … I’ve been … My sex drive …”\n\n“Has it been higher than normal?” he asks gently.\n\nShe nods, still kneading at her skirt. He makes a short mark on his notepad.\n\n“Is that … is that … normal?” she asks.\n\n“Let’s not worry about ‘normal’ for now. Okay, Rhea?”\n\nAnother nod. The doctor flips the notepad closed. Rhea wonders if he can smell the soap on her skin, the restless joy in her blood. Lately she can't wake without wanting to shower.\n\n“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me, Rhea?\" He looks her full in the face, and she can see, for the first time, the heavy, handsome circles that rest beneath his eyes. She can't remember the last time she looked in a mirror and saw the same. \n\n“I just don’t know what to do,” she says finally.\n\n“You’re already doing it. You came here, didn’t you?”\n\n“I know,\" she says, \"But it’s as if … as if there’s a void inside my heart and it's closing. It's closing. And there's nothing I can do to stop it.\"\n\n“Rhea …” he says.\n\n“Doctor,” she says.\n\n“I think that’s enough for today. You’ve done very well.”" ]	3
I just stumbled across these words in a goofy conversation I was having, and suddenly thought it would make for a very creepy or intriguing writing prompt.	[WP] "I am the one that listens when the line goes dead."	[ "\"911, what is your emergency?\"\n\n\"Sorry ma'am, was just checking the time,\" his Master said casually. \n\nAbruptly, the line went dead. It was a dull, pebble of a response, grabbed from some shore and thrown just to see what would happen. The responder probably sensed that too, and ended the call as though his Master, he who could stop rain, sling lightening and summon discount coupons, were some common prankster.\n\n\"Give me the phone sir, I'll teach her some manners.\" He reached for the cell phone sitting on the table between them until his hand was summarily smacked away by an older, firmer one. Pride and nerves lightly flared. Even if his Master lied on a 911 call on loudspeaker in the middle of a restaurant, he still respected him too much to let this slide.\n\n\"Patience!\" It was a command. The Master resumed tapping quietly to each beep, obnoxiously humming along with the phone. The apprentice slid his back into the chair angrily.\n\nThe cell phone was still beeping, appealing to the customers, waitresses and chefs of the diner to shut it off. None dared though, fearing the embarrassment of confronting an old man and his grandson. To their defense, he looked very old. The waiter hardly caught the mischievous shine in his eyes when he agreed to give them, \"Free deserts afterwards for his grandson's birthday.\" Patronizing as he was, the parfait was big. And perfect. \n\nNot as pleasant as silence though.\n\n\"Well you just lied to the lady and left the phone on like she'll call back!\"\n\n\"She will,\" he replied. Old lines that poured from his eyes crinkled in a smile at that comment. Then the lines stretched vertically in a frown. \"And I never lie.\"\n\nThe apprentice stopped to puzzle out this nonsensical reply.\n\nThen the beeping stopped. \"About bleeding time Chrona,\" the venerable voice grumbled quietly.\n\n\"Ha ha,\" the emergency responder mocked. \"So you finally remembered how to reach me. And here I thought your age finally caught up with you.\" Her voice became serious. \"What do you need Magnus?\"\n\n\"That name's grimey and sticky,\" his Master complained in his pathetic old man voice. A finger continued tapping on the table without losing it's rhythm. \"I prefer my other one, isn't that right apprentice?\"\n\nNervous words squeaked out from the boy. \"Yes Master!\"\n\n\"Oooh, Master is it?\" The phone purred. \"Teaching him your dirty tricks? To bleed time and crack worlds...\"\n\n\"No, no,\" the old man reassured her, \"Nothing too boring. I need another crate. Repeat the last shipment if you could.\"\n\n\"In your time? Most of this junk won't even make sense to---\"\n\n\"By tomorrow, 6pm, Eastern Standard. I have faith in your expediency,\" he replied. \n\n\"Hey, I still need an addre---\"\n\nHis finger stopped tapping, held into the table firmly. Her voice cut out and the phone (again) ended another call. \n\n\"Ah, well,\" the old man sagged. \"She may not have liked my little joke on the first call.\"\n\n\"Pardon?\"\n\n\"Nothing, just take this as your second real lesson.\" The apprentice leaned in closely. \"Deadlines made over dead lines are always respected. Regardless your place or, peril.\" He chuckled, an event floating fondly in his memory.\n\n\"Oh.\" The apprentice thought hard for a moment, then beamed. \"So if I want to ace my home work---\"\n\n\"Don't be stupid boy, you don't get homework from home.\" He stood, escorting a disgruntled boy from a messy table and a confused audience of patrons at the restaurant.\n\n\"Still,\" the Master offered. \"There's much to be excited for. Two things in fact.\"\n\n\"What might those be sir?\"\n\n\"This crate is going to be especially fun. Some relics from my old days. I'll show you the Magnus our friend over the phone remembers.\"\n\nThe apprentice gasped. He rarely got to see anything of the Master's exploits beyond the attic of a hidden study and the street the boy found a homeless man sleeping on. The boy left a five dollar bill on the hat by him, and thought that would be that. Treat them kindly, the boy's mother told him. Three months later, and he still regretted it. He had a rising feeling that things were finally going to get serious.\n\n\"Can't wait sir! What's the second thing?\"\n\nThe old man looked down on the eager young face. \"I forgot my phone. And you get to fetch it.\"\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThank you for the prompt, I enjoyed responding to it. More at /r/galokot for those interested, and thank you for reading!", "This is my first time writing something so ALL FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED.\n\n\nFor now ,a heart is still ticking on in your chest as your brain ticks off the moments left..until there’s nothing left .All it takes is one step.\n\nWhat lies lied at the center of the universes you found in friends eyes and at the very end is there a new beginning ? You wonder ,about to cash in the one way ticket to your unexistence.\n\nYou.You believe you were just like the rest in an unsettling way , in a way you tried to escape from but your words fell upon deaf ears once more and years went by with you unheard.You listened up and cared but that always seemed to be a one-sided deal and you grew tired.\n\nWe are fated to pretend and you are fated to bring yourself in death’s embrace sooner than everyone else.And when your body smashed with the concrete below you hoped it will make you feel complete or numb .\n\nIt just made you dead.\n\n“When I will no longer care ,I will be heard” are the words that last escaped your mouth as you took that one step .\n \nRed and blue lights ,cars racing by.Sirens going off .\n\n\"I am the one that listens\" a close friend says \".. but when the line goes dead,it's all too late\".", "\"Alright see you, Dad.\" I said. \n\n\"See ya, Jake.\"\n\nClick\n\nThe hang-up noise droned loudly over the ear piece of my cordless phone and so I went to put it back down.\n\nI heard a muffled sound and froze. \n\nI Slowly put the phone to my ear. \n\n\"Hello?\" I asked.\n\n\"Hello Jake.\" My mum said. \n\n\"Hey Mum, that's weird, the phone didn't ring.\" I said.\n\nMum chuckled. \"Listen, I need you to do something for me.\"\n\n\"Sure mum, what is it?\"\n\nMy room door opened and my mum put my washing on the floor. \n\nI shot up and threw the phone down. \n\nShe paused to look at me. \"Jake, don't throw our phone around!\"\n\n\"But you don-\"\n\nShe clucked her tongue, interrupting me and picked it up. \n\nA muffled noise came from the receiver. \n\nMum put the phone to her ear. \n\n\"Hello?\"\n\nThe muffled voice came again, talking for a few minutes. \n\nShe held the phone in her hand and stared down at it for what seemed an eternity. Before turning and quietly walking out of my room.\n\nI don't know what they said to her. But I've locked my door and have been hiding in here ever since. \n\nI looked through the keyhole and she's sitting opposite my door, staring at it, waiting.\n\nIt's almost dark and I'm scared. \n\nIf you're reading, please remember... Don't listen when the line goes dead. \n ", "I am the one who listens \n\nwhen the line goes dead.\n\nI wait\n\nand I wonder\n\nwhat could have been said\n\nif only there had been more time \n\nto say\n\nall the things I wanted you to hear that day.\n\nInstead there's a blank ringing noise in my ear\n\ntelling me \"we're done\"\n\nand, \"get out of here.\"\n\nI've been living a dial tone\n\nsince you hung up the phone\n\nI wish you'd come back\n\nand say\n\ndarling, I'm home.\n\n\n\n" ]	4

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