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train · 199k rows

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	[WP] In an alternate universe, fans gather around for the biggest sporting event of the year, a place where bowling balls and pins collide with immeasurable force; it is time for the Superbowl.	[ "\"You're risking it? You've heard the stories right? I mean it isn't that cool!\" Ian exclaimed. His best friend, Sam, was sitting across him at their local diner. The waitress brought a slice of apple pie, Sam's was a la mode.\n\n\"Yes, of course. The pins can fall and wreck a good fifth of the stadium and the ball, well if it isn't up to snuff can bounce wildly and randomly.\"\n\n\"The only seats that are safe are the box seats used by the men that started all this in the first place,\" Ian shoveled a piece of apple pie into his mouth and barely chewed.\n\n\"Just because its orchestrated like The Hunger Games doesn't mean its any less fun. I mean, last year one of the pins threw itself at the ball and flew three thousand feet in the air! How exciting would that be to see in person? If I recall correctly it came back and killed someone, the tv cameras only caught the bloody aftermath.\"\n\n\"How is that an argument for going? You've got a son to take care of Sam.\"\n\n\"Meh he would be old enough to understand. It was an argument that I could dodge it better than the catastrophe of '89.\"\n\n\"No one talks about that Sam. '89 didn't happen.\"\n\n\"That's another thing. If we can't delve into the history of the Superbowl, how can we ever hope to properly enjoy it again? Everyone lives in fear. The only way to get over that is to fully embrace it like I have- or- shit yourself every February 7th thinking some pin is going to fly, take out an airplane, crash the airplane into a bustling metropolis and light the gas mains of an entire city on fire.\"\n\n\"That's not what happened in '89.\"\n\n\"Could be, no one knows. The FNL blocked all knowledge of the event and walled off the whole city. Regardless, I bought the tickets and I'm going. Max will be joining me,\" Sam dove into his slice of pie, rubbing it against a side of the ice cream to smooth out the flaky crust.\n\n\"Well, hopefully you'll survive long enough to see your child again. I suppose this is all Max's idea?\"\n\n\"Yeah, he wants to unearth the mystery of '89. I just want to experience the Superbowl in person. This is as good a chance as any, he even paid for my ticket!\" Sam was down to the crust of his pie. Ian had a ways to go still, gooey apples spewed from the mouth of crust.\n\n\"Know I'll take care of Martin if something happens.\"\n\n\"No worries Ian, hey you gonna finish that bite?\" Sam asked pointing to one particular apple that had slid away from the crust. Ian shook his head no. Sam jousted his fork at it, and quickly hid it in his mouth.\n\n[END]\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nIf you liked this piece, please visit my profile for more /u/WritersofRohan17 or visit my website www.samwasnthere.com\n\nThanks for reading!", "The next bowler sauntered up in a black Calavera mask. No one had any idea who José was, but deploying him this early meant that the Titans were worried. \n\nHe hoisted his ball with practiced flair - a gorgeous steel Glybos MkV worth thousands - and launched it down the alley. Bang, rumble rumble rumble. Silence fell upon the crowds. As the ball hurtled, José fingered one of the buttons on his gauntlet. \n\n\"There's no way they're going to use up a trick shot in the first quarter,\" I told my date. \"It's all for the crowds.\"\n\nWhen the MkV was an inch away from the reinforced pins, though, José twisted the button and mashed it down. \n\nJamie gripped my arm, nails digging. \n\nThe explosion was deafening in its fury, but it was drowned in the ecstasy of the cheering mob. \n\nWhen the smoke cleared, only the two corner pins, 7 and 10, stood wobbling. I dropped my popcorn. \n\nThe captain of the Foxes leapt to his feet, eyes narrow.\n\n\"Bring in the sniper rifle! Shields up. They will NOT make that split.\"\n\n**\n\nMagic happens at /r/Hermione_Grangest ", "My family and I roared as the New York Hurlers scored another strike, chips and beer flying everywhere. I sat down and chuckled as I watched my younger brother mimic their star player, Ned Fisherman. Superbowl parties always got the family together, even Uncle Steve couldn't say no to the 5 hour flight to make it. \"Boo, get out of here Lincoln!\" Number 44 from the Lincoln Nebraska Fielders scored a strike. \n\nI looked at my father. \"Hey dad?\"\n\n\"Yeah? What is it?\"\n\n\"Did you Bowl in high school?\"\n\nHe chuckled as he cracked open a new beer. \"Of course I did. How do you think I met your mother!\" He winked at mom, and she blushed. \n\n\"I was the head cheerleader of the Bowling Squad back in my day.\" She said, smiling warmly. I leaned back and grabbed some chips. Commercials were coming on. One featured a college bowling captain and a college football player. The bowling captain pats the nerdy football player on the back, and hands him a bottle of Coke-a-Cola. I laugh a bit, and everyone else does too. \n\n\"Hey dad?\"\n\n\"Yeah?\"\n\n\"Did you know any kids that played football?\"\n\nHe sat and thought for a minute. \"You know, I don't think we had a football team at our school. Nobody wanted to play it. Hell, we didn't even have a football field in town!\" He laughed a bit, then went back to the television. Who would ever want to play that?* I decided to forget about it." ]	3
	[WP] In an alternate universe the largest sporting event of the year is falconry, with all birds of prey represented. Write about the Superb Owl.	[ "\"Can't believe we're in the final play of the 50th Superb Owl John!\" \n\"Yeah, wouldn't you know it Chuck, these vulture quarterbacks never miss an opportunity, and usually they never get hit unless it's at an exhibition game, but we never expected to see so much action from these hawk linemen at the Super Bowl!\" \n\"Superb Owl, John.\" \n\"OOOOOH RIGHT CHUCK, HAAAAAHAAHAHA anyway, their quarterback wasn't expecting that last 200 foot dive sack from B. Falcon and it looks like he took a serious wing fracture, so his Saggy Apes team are setting up for a field goal, hoping to deny a second overtime it looks like.\" \n\"That's right John, the players are all set on the field ready to take flight, linemen pecking for an excuse to... oh, OH, IT'S A FAKE! The quarterback soared back to the field from the sidelines, snatching the ball in it's beak and taking off with it! A flag's been thrown, the referee's flagged G.F Vulture for disrupting the game, but he's too high up with the ball to care! Look at him go John!\" \n\"What a sight to see and that's unlucky for him Chuck! He scratched out that he was going to be retiring after this game, but it looks like the Ape's quarterback had his eyes on the prize this whooole time. So the referree's pulled out the sniper rifle, lining up the shooooooot, BAM, down comes the ball! It's been retrieved and thrown back to the Apes for another attempt.\" \n\"What an unfortunate way to end his season, but there's hope yet for the Apes as they wait on the whistle. It's blown! OH NO Wouldn't you believe it John? The punter's trying to waddle the ball in his beak across the field! Another fake by the Apes!\" \n\"But it's working Chuck!! All the other players jumped before they got a chance to see where it went! A razzle dazzle play from Aegolius Owl! Some hawk linemen just noticed the ground in time to see him claw his way to the end zone!\" \n\"He slams the ball! TOUCH DOOOOOOWN\" \n\"Wow Chuck, what a way to end the Super Bowl, to see---\" \n\"Superb Owl, John.\" \n\"THAT'S RIGHT CHUCK, HAHAHAHAHA, I was saying, what a way to end the Superb Owl! These hometown birds of prey are going to have a lot to bring back for their local sanctuary! Shame to see--- oh, G.F Vulture's body finally hit the ground--- (cough) shame to see the opposing team go out in such a way, we'll most likely not expect to see most of them back in the next preseason!\" \n\"Definitely John, but we'll expect to see more talent from these rising stars next year, and now we'll take you down live to the pitch with Samantha for a few squawks from our winning team!\" \n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nMore at /r/galokot, and thank you for reading! ", "Sam was ready. He was prepared. Finally, after years of training and competitions, everything was leading up to this moment. It was a long, gruesome climb, filled with past rivalries that had to be crushed on the way.\n\nThere was Misago, the intense Japanese osprey that studied the competition thoroughly before every competition, analysing and training the most efficient categories to have the greatest chance of success.\n\nThere was Harris, the charming, but cocky bay-winged hawk who always seemed to make friends with everyone. It took very little time before you found yourself drawn to him, and he was always a crowd favourite in the minor circuits.\n\nAnd who could forget Juanetta, the giant Philippine eagle who always drew a crowd wherever she went. In the back of Sam's mind, he always thought that she would have been the one to qualify, if she hadn't decided to retire early and start her family. It was a damn shame, but honestly, he couldn't blame her considering the status of her family.\n\nIt was almost time. The Superb Owl. Named after the Minerva, the great horned owl, and her 15-year winning streak before her retirement, every bird of prey has always wanted to prove that their species was capable of winning. It was more than just personal satisfaction at stake, this was species pride.\n\nSam's partner arrived a half minute later, dressed to impress. A black and white penguin ensemble mixed with a few male peacock flourishes on his crest. At this level of refinement, pure ability was no longer the deciding factor. Technique, efficiency, and yes, style would all be considered by the judges, turning the competition into a complex balancing act of competing interests. 15 seconds remained as they stepped out of the dark preparation room and up onto the field.\n\nFive seconds. Silence as music slowly started to swell. Four seconds. The prey began to scurry across the field. Three seconds. Like a spring coiled and ready to release, they tensed. Two seconds. Their teamwork so close, they could feel eachother's heartbeat, a bird song of its own that only partners would share. One second. Arm cocked, wings raised, synchronized in motion. Zero seconds.\n\nShowtime." ]	2
	[WP] You make it to heaven and it is full of atheists	[ "Upon waking up, I gasp for air. My lungs feel new and craving for air. They expand like a new balloon, while my eyes see more vividly than I ever have.\n\nI understood what had happened, as the last thing I remember was truck running into my side. Now, here I am in an endless field of white light and barely spotting a building in the distance. Five minutes pass and I finally get close. I am somewhat nervous as I only knew heaven to be a place for the good but no one can describe it for you or even leave a sign of what it is as they pass. The doors open when I walk up.\n\n“Hello my son, I see you have come from the world to join us in bliss.” said God, who had the features of *** and a robe made of ****.\n\nI walk past Him, as I want to find out what the afterlife is like for myself. A man walks up and asked if I met God. I say I did. He is chuckling at how crazy it is he actually exists. I don’t understand what he means but walk away fast as the man seemed very dazed and unaware.\n\nSoon, I talk to a few more people and all have the same amazement from God existing like they didn’t know of him beforehand.\n\n“Sir,” I ask one man, “Do you believe in God?”\n\n“Believe? Well, I don’t think a single one of us can believe in Him but I can’t take away who he is with my thoughts and I must continually feel respect for that.”\n\nI was left with a new feeling after this conversation. I was free, free to enjoy this studio of creation that was heaven. I see all these people spend time coming to terms with death, with their old life, and with the afterlife. However, I had settled those affairs long ago. Religion is not a weakness and even if life ended at that truck, I was conscious of it. I don’t see the facts, I feel them. The whole part of humanity that makes us special is our ability to live in a 3rd dimension, one where life is bad but the mind is pumping and making it good. I can stay in heaven with no need to ask others what they think of everything. It is the same as my old life, where I developed thoughts of my own and only listened to others as a courtesy. This ignorant and selfish thinking may have not let me live a great life before, but I knew what this place brought to the table, before I even planned on coming over.\n", "\"What the hell?\" Alexander found himself entirely lost. His mental picture of heaven, a train station with marbled pillars of pure white and laced by the hand prints of numerous saints, was no more. Instead, he stood in a totally muddied ground, with patches of grass about, and an endless cloudy horizon of magenta-blue.\n\nA cynical voice rose from behind him. \"Actually, it's heaven.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You asked 'What the hell?' And you aren't there. Welcome to heaven.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"What, were you expecting Saint Peter? He's on vacation to purgatory. It's more interesting there anyways, stuff actually happens. I'm the doorman.\"\n\n\"But I don't remotely belie-\"\n\n\"Yeah, we get it. You're an atheist. We all are. That's why you're here.\" The cynical man rolled his blue-green eyes which contrasted with his robe of brown lace.\n\n\"But-\"\n\nThe man interrupted Alexander again. \"Listen, I've had to tell this story way to many times. Not many people get it quickly enough. In fact, I strain to remember many people who got the deal without the doorman explaining it. It's a long story.\" The man cleared his throat and began his tale, as if reciting something he'd said a thousand times. \"The whole deal with heaven in the first place, the whole 144,000 or so noble gents coming up here and chilling with God, worked for a few thousand years. I can't speak for the man himself, but he chilled with Moses for a while, got absolutely wasted with Noah, because Noah out-drinks Bukowski. Everything was great. Bunch of chill dudes come up and start to chill with God, and he starts to get a bit confused. Suddenly, due to some kind of filing error of my incompetent predecessors, this one chap got let through. Some fellow by the name of Count Emicho or Emicho of Leiningen. Something like that. This chap was a Christian count absolute ages ago, but here's the catch - during the Crusades, which God absolutely abhorred, mind you, this chap doesn't even go Crusading. Instead, he massacres a bunch of fellows in Germany, and that's that. This fellow walks up to God and inquires of him why none of his peers are about. God takes a couple of glances at this fellow and hears everything, and you can just see his face start to boil up with something mightily terrifying. At that point in time, God must've been pretty done with this shit, so he fired that doorman and now we're here. Emicho or whoever he was managed to get God to exclude all his followers out of here for, well, a time past right now.\"\n\n\"But not all of the Christian's are Crusaders now. There are some pretty decent people now.\" Alexander rose finally at the finale of this story. He himself was agnostic, but much of his family had been Christian and completely decent people.\n\n\"Don't talk about it. God doesn't like to think about it. I mean, Christ, it must hurt, right? That suddenly there's this tipping point where the people who follow you are evil and the people who don't are good? That there's a tipping point where the people who don't believe in good and evil are more good than the people who do? I'm just a doorman, and even I can see that. It's not like these people are in hell, either. Hell isn't really a thing anymore, because God realized something mighty interesting when that fellow showed up - that these kind of people were the wrathful representation of the ideals of eternal suffering. So he got rid of it. Just purgatory and heaven, and the only difference between the two is that heaven is where God chills and purgatory is where God ignores.\"\n\n\"So what is your version of heaven like?\" Alexander was so engrossed in the tale that he hardly noticed that the doorman was actually stood before a dilapidated old gate made of wood and bits of cardboard.\n\n\"Well, I dunno. I've never been in, really. After all, it's more interesting to talk to you fellows beforehand.\" The doorman's cynical demeanor softened for a moment, and he opened the door. " ]	2
	[WP] You work in fast food. You sell enchanted burgers. What's your regular day like?	[ "\"Hi there!\" Says the overly-enthusiastic man on the video tape. The VHS spits and cackles out the distorted image of a man in a suit from the eighties. \"Welcome to the McMagic family!\"\n \n\"You must be excited to be here!\" The man cups his hand around his ear and tilts his head as if to hear the audience. \"I know! I'll bet you're excited to start work. First, let's review some company policy!\"\n\nFour bored teenagers sit before the old television set, staring with vacant eyes. The Crew Trainer member sits with a cigarette in her fingers and her eyes on her phone. The smoke wafts upwards and stains the yellow ceiling. Wood paneled walls with faded posters surround the conference table.\n\nOne of the teens is going to spend her first paycheck on a new car and start saving up for college. One needs the job before his parents kick him out. The other two are friends looking for their next ounce of weed.\n\n\"What do we say to the People for the Ethical Treatment of Centaurs? Talk to Legal!\" The man giggles evilly, but his words are lost on empty minds.\n\n\"Now, let's talk to Burger Bradley about how to make a Love Potion Burger!\"\nThe screen pans over to an overweight bearded man in a burger suit not unlike that of Gene from Bob's Burgers.\n\n\"Hey Magic Matt.\" Says the bearded man, clearly looking forward to spending his compensation at the bar later that evening. \"So here, I've got...\"\n\n\"We don't actually have this anymore.\" The crew trainer glances at the group arrayed before her. Reaching for another cigarette out of the pack on the floor beside her. \"So just ignore this part.\"\n\n\"Why'd they get rid of it?\" Asks the first girl with innocent Bambi eyes. \"My parents loved it back when they had it.\"\n\n\"Of course they did.\" The crew trainer sarcastically replies, lighting the cigarette. \"That's what it does. It makes you love it.\" She stares back down at her phone and the Bambi-eyed girl stared back at the TV.\n\n\"That's right, Magic Matt!\" Says the bearded man through coffee-stained teeth. \"And don't forget to add the magic seasoning, scopolamine!\"\n\n\"And what do we say to people who don't like our seasoning, Burger Bradley?\" Asks the suited man through an overly done smile.\n\n\"Take it up with Legal!\" They both shout in unison. The tape cuts out for a moment as the boom mike drops down into the fryer behind them.\n\n\"Next up on our list,\" Says the suited man, walking over to another man dressed up like a french-fry container, \"Flying fries! They literally make you float!\"\n\nThe crew trainer gestures at the TV with a flask of whiskey in her hand. \"Pay attention now, these are difficult to make.\"\n\n\n", "\"Welcome to Merlin's Magical Munchies, how can I help you this fine morning?\" asked the young woman behind the counter. Her cheerful greeting was in a strange contrast with the deadened expression on her face. \n\nI rested one hand on the pommel of my sword, and stroked my beard with the other. \"Give me a second,\" I said absent-mindedly while I studied the menu etched in ancient runes on century old slabs of stone retrieved from the Mines of Rath'Korrigan. \n\n\"Okay, sir,\" the cashier said. She scratched at the corner of her mouth and sighed, propping her head on the counter with the heel of her hand. Towards the back of the restaurant some chickens clucked then shrieked angrily. \"Fuck,\" she grumbled, and she wandered off. \n\nThe restaurant was empty, which all things considered, wasn't very unusual. In the distance, the dragon ravaging the countryside roared in delight. The king's scout had sprinted as fast as he could to deliver the summons to me. \"Good Sir Gottfried, the king requests your assistance in Havarshire, for a...\"\n\n\"Hello sir!\"\n\nA new, chipper voice broke through my musings. A portly man with an oddly pointed face, with a massive honker and huge, fleshy lips twisted into an overly-enthusiastic grin stood behind the counter. He wore the cap of Magical Manager.\n\n\"Oh, uh, hello,\" I said. \n\n\"Can I help you today?\" he asked eagerly, leaning forward, almost over the counter. \n\n\"I think I'd like to order the half-pounder Hocus-Pocus Hamburger, with extra Fire Resistance, Piercing Resistance and Strength Enhancing Enchantments, please.\"\n\nThe manager arched an eyebrow in surprise. \"The half-pounder Hocus-Pocus Hamburger with three extra enchantments? That is our most powerful hamburger, sir.\"\n\nI furrowed my brow. \"Well, yes. I am going into battle, and I want your strongest burger.\"\n\nThe manager leaned even further forward, almost parallel to the floor. A mad smirk contorted his bloated lips. \"You can't handle these hamburgers, customer. They're too powerful for you!\" " ]	2
How would a DnD session go with these five? Who would be the DM and what classes and alignments would the others have?	[WP] Bernie Sanders, Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, Ted Cruz and Chris Christie get together to play Dungeons and Dragons.	[ "(Yes, this will be fairly offensive. For the record I dont have any political veiws, and think the whole thing is quite out of hand. But, given the prompt, I will go to town with it... Enjoy!)\n\n\"Im not one to get to far in on the action...\" Christie said, sitting on the chair at the head of the table. \"So instead, ill be the Dungeon master... Any disagreements?\"\n Trump raised his hand, his face curling up in a bit of anger. \"Why do you get to be in first place? I want to be the master!\" It took a little while to explain to him that the Dungeon Master didnt exactly get to be #1, since they technically wernt in the game. He didnt understand the point of it untill it was discribed as the illumitati. \n \"Well, then I would like to be a human. Since we are the best.\" Ted Cruz rolled his eyes as he claimed he would be an elf. This not only sent trump into a rage about how he wasn't supporting his own kind, but Hillary complained that she wanted to be a elf, and that she didnt want to have to be in the same kind as him. The debate ended poorly since no one else had any important points. Ever. So both where an elf, and that was that. Bernie avoided the conflict, saying he just wanted to be a dwarf. Luckly this comment wasnt heard by trump who was currently building a wall of legos between himself and the others. The game had started. It took way to long to decide where to go on the quest, and eventually it was left to a coin toss. They went into the local bar, well, all except Trump. He refused to go in unless all others had been deported. Hillary blew her money on usless trifels, and ended up selling out all of the important secrets of their group for a cookie. Christie just shook his head, watching the fake world around them falling apart. It wasnt for another 5 minutes that anyone had even realized that Bernie had fallen asleep. ", "NOTE: THIS IS A PARODY OF DEAD ALEWIVES CLASSIC I JUST CHANGED THE NAMES AND ADDED SOME LINES\n\nDM – “Clinton, you have entered the door to the North. You are now by yourself, standing in a dark room. The pungent smell of mildew eminates from the wet dungeon walls.”\n\nTrump – “Where are the Cheetos?”\n\nDM – “They’re right next to you!”\n\nClinton – “I cast a spell!”\n\nTrump – “Where’s the Mountain Dew?”\n\nDM – “In the fridge, DUH!”\n\nClinton – “I wanna cast a spell!”\n\nTrump – “Can I Mountain Dew?”\n\nDM – “YES! You can have a Mountain Dew, just go get it!”\n\nClinton – “I can cast any of these, right? On the list?”\n\nDM – “Yes, any of the first level ones.”\n\nTrump – “I’m gonna get a soda, anyone want one? Hey Grimm, I’m not in the room, right?”\n\nDM – “What room??”\n\nClinton – “I wanna cast ‘magic missile…'”\n\nTrump – “The room where he’s casting all these spells from.”\n\nDM – “He hasnt’ cast anything yet!”\n\nClinton – “I am though, if you’d listen. I’m casting ‘magic missile!'”\n\nDM – “Why are you ‘magic missile’? There’s nothing to attack here.”\n\nClinton – “I… I’m attacking The Darkness!!”\n\n(all laugh)\n\nDM – “Fine! Fine! You attack ‘The Darkness’. There’s an elf in front of you.”\n\nClinton – “Woah!”\n\nSanders – “That’s me, right?”\n\nDM – “He’s wearing a brown tunic and he has grey hair and blue eyes.”\n\nSanders – “No I don’t, I have grey eyes.”\n\nDM – “Let me see that sheet.”\n\nSanders – “Well, it says I have blue but I decided I wanted grey eyes!”\n\nDM – “Whatever! Okay, you guys can talk to each other now if you want.”\n\n(silence)\n\nClinton – “Hello.”\n\nSanders – “Hello.”\n\nClinton – “I am Clinton, Sorceror of Light.”\n\nSanders – “Then how come you had to cast ‘magic missile’?”\n\n(laughs)\n\nDM – “You guys are being attacked.”\n\nTrump – “Do I see this happening?”\n\nDM – “NO! You’re outside by the tavern!”\n\nTrump – “Cool! I get drunk!”\n\nDM (sighs) – “There are 7 ogres surrounding you.”\n\nClinton – “How can they surround us? I had ‘Mordencaiden’s magical watchdog’ cast.”\n\nDM – “No, you didn’t!”\n\nTrump – “I’m getting drunk! Are there any girls there?”\n\nClinton (angry) – “I totally did! You asked me if I wanted any equipment before this adventure and I said no but I need material components for all my spells so I cast ‘Mordencaiden’s faithful watchdog’.”\n\nDM – “But you never actually cast it.”\n\nTrump – “Roll the dice to see if I’m getting drunk!”\n\nDM (sighs and rolls rice) – “Yeah! You are!”\n\nTrump – “Are there any girls there?”\n\nDM (annoyed) – “Yeah!”\n\nClinton – “I did though! I completely said when you asked me.”\n\nDM (more annoyed) – “No, you didn’t! You didn’t actually say that you were casting the spells so now there’s ogres, okay?!”\n\nTrump – “Ogres?! Man, I got an ogre-slaying knife! It’s got a +9 against ogres!”\n\nDM (angry) – “You’re not there! You’re getting drunk!”\n\nTrump – “Okay but if there’s any girls there, I want to do them!”\n\nToilet Flushes\n\nCruz – “Hey sorry guys, too many nachos. Is it my turn?”\n\nDM – “Uh, hold on you are back in the town with Trump”\n\nCruz – “Okay but if there’s any girls there, I want to do them!” \n\nTrump – “Nuh-uh I was here first!” \n\nDM – Sigh \n\nDoorbell Rings\n\nDM- “It’s Rubio and Christie! Quick hide!”\n ", "\"Horror here at A Kirkland home where police report a 'Dungeons and Dragons' game has turned violent. Police were called by a Domino's delivery driver when he arrived at seven PM. Republican candidate Donald Trump was allegedly heard to be shouting 'Charisma Roll this Sanders'. Police report that Bernie Sanders is in critical condition having been beaten by a large rule book.\"", "\"But Donald!\" Ted Cruz said in an exasperated voice, \"Why do you always get to be DM?\"\n\n\"I've bought all the damned game pieces and rule books,\" Trump responded impatiently. \"You oughtta be happy I'm letting your Canadian ass even participate.\"\n\n\"Donald,\" Hillary said, \"you know that I subsidized your purchases.\"\n\n\"What about the Iraq war, Hilldog?\" Trump asked. \"Did you subsidize that or did you just use my tax dollars to do it?\"\n\n\"How about we let Trump DM again so long as he doesn't use his powers as an excuse to do an hour long commercial for his golf courses and casino again?\" Bernie suggested.\n\nFinally everyone agreed that Trump could be the DM again.\n\n\"I am an elf queen named Hillary Clinton. I put most of my points into Persuasion and I have an entire army backing me up.\"\n\n\"You can't start with that big of an advantage!\" Ted Cruz challenged. \"And I don't think that Elven queen is a legitimate class...\"\n\n\"Well, I have friends in the Elven National Commission and they say that I totally can!\"\n\n\"The ENC is far too corrupt to serve the people,\" Bernie Sanders interjected. \"I am an elf rogue and I do not serve the queen. We are in rebellion!\"\n\n\"Well some rebellion that will be without your neckbeard internet forums!\" Hillary retorted.\n\n\"I don't think we can play this as one group, there is far too much friction,\" Ted Cruz complained.\n\n\"I want to be a stereotypical Muslim suicide bomber!\" Chris Christie suddenly yelled out.\n\n\"Who invited him?\" Whispered Hillary. \"I almost forgot he was here.\"\n\n\"I'm just telling it like it is!\" Chris Christie responded proudly.\n\n\"I actually don't think that is a class or a race either...\" Ted Cruz said.\n\n\"Why are you always complaining, Teddy?\" Donald asked. \"What are you anyways?\"\n\n\"I am a Paladin from the kingdom of...\"\n\n\"Rocks are about to fall on you, you must roll 23 to dodge and survive.\"\n\n\"Wait, we've started? Hey! This die you gave me only has 21 sides!\"\n\n\"You're fired, Teddy! Don't forget to pay for your part of the pizza. Your character is crushed to death.\"\n\n\"What!? Screw you guys! I'm going back to Canada.\" Ted Cruz left the building ranting and didn't help pay for the pizza.\n\n\"Well, now that he's out of the way, let's play!\" Trump announced. \"Ok, so we start in a beautiful golf course just outside Las Vegas...\"\n\n\"Not this shit again!\" Bernie cried out.\n\n\"Chris, you can sit on him now,\" Hillary said coldly.\n\nWith some effort Chris Christie stood up and lumbered over toward Donald Trump. Donald became paralyzed with fear and didn't try and escape. He was crushed to death by Chris' enormous body.\n\n\"Oh my God!\" Bernie cried out. \"We're murders now!\"\n\n\"Relax Bernie,\" Hillary said. \"I'll have my people take care of it. We'll only talk about it on the most secure email servers. Let's get out of here.\"\n\n\"Wait!\" Chris Christie cried out as he tried to lift his blood-soaked bottom. \"Shouldn't we say a prayer to the Illuminati depopulation god before we leave?\"\n\n\"Isn't that basically what we were doing by playing D&D?\" Bernie replied.\n\n\"Oh yeah, that's right!\" \n\nAnd with that, the 3 friends lived happily ever after.", "\"It's okay guys I'm just going to watch\" said Jeb. \"I really like to watch. My wife lets me watch and thats what I like to do. Sit back and watch.\" Jeb explained from across the room.\n\nMarco Rubio looked up from his burner phone. He had a new match on Grindr. But Jeb was mubling things again and he felt obligated to reply. \"That's cool Jeb.\" Rubio turned his attention back to his phone.\"If your long strong and ready to get the friction on meet me at the campaign bus at nine.\" Rubio hit send and smiled. That smile quickly faded because Donald Trump, Chris Christy, Ted Cruz, Bernie Sanders, Hillary and Dick Chayne had arrived.\n\n\"I shall be the Dungeon Master\" Dick Chayne declared. I have extensive experience running secret dungeons from Iraq to Romania. Dick continued. \"Now tell me what classes and alignments you have chosen so we can begin\"\n\n\"I will be a bridge troll\" Chris Christy replied. \"Unless you pay my troll toll you may not cross the bridge!\"\n\n\"Sounds like a pretty irrelevant character but okay,\" continued Dick. \"Next.\"\n\n\"I shall be a Canadian monk. I too am neutral and fight for whoever gives me the most coin.\" Ted Cruz replied as Jeb watched eagerly from a distance with his Jeb look.\n\n\"I am a fire wizard known to all as The Burn I fight for equality fairness and the ideal, even if its not practical or realistic\" Sanders exclaimed while gesticulating wildly with his hands and fingers.\n\nHillary looked up from her BlackBerry and stood up \n. She pulled a knife from her purse. Slit her wrists and drew a pentagram on the floor in her own Blood. \"I call upon the unspeakable one to give me strength to win this game! No Sacrifice is too great! Nothing is sacred. Give me the power to rule from the throne of a thousand skulls! The blood pentagram pulsed for a while before fading into the nether.\n\nDick Chayne wasn't the least bit surprised.\n\n\"While brise white by light by night I am the White Knight who fights for what's right for all whom are white\" Donald Trump replied.\n\nDick wasn't surprised by that either." ]	5
Tell me a story! What is the most harrowing, scary, off-the wall stuff that has ever happened to you? Mugged at gunpoint? Almost drown as a kid? Keep it non-fiction if you can (not like I can prove you wrong, but I'd like to hear your true stories), but feel free to write in any person or tense and paint us a pretty picture! Hope this isn't too specific, feel free to throw any of this out the window if it helps you write.	[WP] Write about your most terrifying (real) experience!	[ "Well, its my first time actually writing a story for this sub at all, so I hope I don't sound (look?) like too much of an idiot, even if the story is short and idiotic to me.\n\nIn my life, I've had some concussions(with someone screaming \"Die! Die! Die!\" during a wrestling match for one, and a bad 'zipline' accident for another, and some stupid shit with climbing, and some fights, etc.) I've had some pretty stupidly close encounters with death(more than once have I stepped out into the road only to see a car half a second away, jumping out of the way in time for whatever danglies I have(like the straps of a backpack, or a scarf) to be the only things hit by the cars), I've gotten into pretty stupid fights(one time I practically asked 3 people to fight me at once, and they were on the high school's hockey team), but by far the thing that scares me the most is a memory from when I was high on weed.\n\nYea I know; \"Weed? How would you get scared on that shit? That shit just makes you feel happy inside.\" I know, it sounds dumb, but hear me out on this.\n\nNormally, when I would get high, I'd just be generally happy to be alive, I'd feel like I was acting like an idiot, but I wouldn't care, it was a great feeling. \n\nAnd usually, when watching \"scary\" movies I give only about half a fk whats going on in the movie; they bore the hell out of me(oh no, there's a man behind you, turn around, turn around, turn aro- okay now you is dead)\n\nBuuuuut for whatever reason me and a girl I fancied decided it would be a great idea to get high and watch a horror movie, normally I'd have said that no, for the last time, horror movies are boring as all hell, but it was someone I was interested in, so I wanted to go along with their wishes.\n\nSo we get high, and there's like 5 other people; I'm not sure when she invited other friends to join us but she had, and they were high too. I had smoked a bit more than I should have, mostly because I wanted to impress her, and she was always smoking weed, but my plan had ended up backfiring, and I was barely able to really walk around properly.\n\nWe get the movie out and its 'House of Wax' I had already seen it, and been supremely unimpressed, so I almost felt insulted, and sat down on a bean bag that could fit me and one other person, who I supposed would be the girl, as she was the one whose house we were at. She didn't sit down with me, no one did.\n\nEveryone was paired off pretty much on the floor between me and the movie, so I started feeling kinda depressed, and started to watch the movie, and at some point I had started to empathize with the characters, in that I started to, quite literally, feel their pain. Some guy tried to rip off his friend's face made of wax or some shit and I lost it, and started telling the others how I felt as if I was in the movie, pretty embarrassing, but that shit hurt like hell.\n\nThe others were either too interested in smooching each-other or too high to figure out how to turn off the movie, so I watched the entire thing, pretty much all without blinking from that point on. \n\nI cried after the movie, and I went home, high as balls, snuck into my room via the window, and cried myself to sleep.\n\nBONUS: the girl ended up starting to date the other person she was with about a day later, and about 3 months after that I asked her out, we dated for a bit, and then I found out that she loved that movie and watched it every time she got high at home; I broke up with her on the spot and haven't talked to her since, even though its been like 3-4 years.", "It was the sound of the front door being slammed repeatedly and urgently, with such incredible violence as to shake the foundation of the house, that at last woke me up.\n\nWhen you're six, waking up in an unfamiliar place is supposed to be scary, but nobody ever thinks about waking up confused and dazed as the world tears itself apart around you. Even as bits and pieces of the day before flitted into my conscious, reminding me of where I was and how I ended up here, the emotion that surged through me was abject terror.\n\nIt was a testament to the sturdy stock of southern hills folk that I wasn't severely injured, but also a testament to the stereotyped slowness of our minds that it took me several minutes of pondering my circumstances to realize that I was trapped. From far away, strange voices sighed and chuckled in low voices, and I strained my ears to hear them over the din, to pick out their soft words over the howling and screaming all around me.\n\nThe one thing above all that that night left me with was an awareness of how pernicious fate can be. If I hadn't gone forward fumbling in the dark to follow those faint whispers of strangers, and instead stood my ground, I would have heard more familiar voices screaming my name at the top of their lungs, desperate to carry over the ambient chaos all around. Or perhaps fortune was favoring me that night by keeping my family away, as they wouldn't have had time to rescue me and indeed might have gotten killed in the attempt.\n\nForward I went, though, until I was certain that those murmurs were right in front of me. I cast my arms about in a mixture of confusion and panic, hoping to brush against cloth or flesh, before finally remembering where I was. I tilted my head back and to the side, straining my hearing directly upwards. As though to reward me for my efforts, the world fell silent, allowing the next portion of the spoken phrase to reach me uninterrupted.\n\n\"... shelter immediately and remain inside. Repeat, this is a...\"\n\nAlas, what respite is given freely is taken away again just as effortlessly, and the bellows picked up again, with far greater intensity. Even hopping on my toes, trying to get closer to the voices, accomplished nothing more than to make me dizzy and disoriented in the pitch black.\n\nI knew what was going on though, and who the voices belonged to. It was the same radio broadcaster my father had been listening to some time before as my family prepared to bed, with a furrowed brow and fingers trilling against the table in staccato, his tic that gave away worry and heavy contemplation.\n\nAt that time, I had been sitting on the floor that was now directly over my head, wearing the same old johns that I was wearing now, though notably less covered in dirt. Despite being feet from the radio, and with little more than crickets as background noise, I hadn't heard the broadcast then, either. I had been more focused on my eldest siblings pleading their case, while my kid sister and I waited with baited breath for the verdict.\n\nAt last, my father had released a sigh and conceded, to much whooping and celebration from us. After securing a number of concessions from us, including that we'd spend an extra thirty seconds brushing our teeth and put on a few extra layers, we were prepared to camp out on the raised back porch during what promised to be a beautiful, crisp night.\n\nOur young senses, honed through years of living in the wilds, informed us that there was no crisp of ozone in the air, no sensation of slickness in the breeze, not even the metallic tang of trace smoke from the woods nearby. No early warning for us that anything could go wrong on such a beautiful night, but my father paused anyway at the door as we rushed past, inhaling mightily to test his own, far more refined awareness.\n\nCombined with whatever he had heard on the radio, it was enough to make him frown again, but at this point the atmosphere of childish excitement had won out, and after making sure we all had flashlights and extra blankets, he gave us a stern warning not to stay up too late talking, reminded us that chores started at first light, and retired back into the warm comfort of his bedroom in the house.\n\nWe squabbled over the layout for a bit, each of us wanting the best spot and to establish a modicum of pecking order. My brother got the foot of the stairwell leading down, as befit his status as the oldest male. Anything happened during the night, it'd have to get past him, and though we all bickered over how we wanted the stairs, we conceded it to him easily enough, knowing that we'd sleep easier with him on guard duty.\n\nMy two sisters, close as ever, huddled up together by the front door, to catch what little heat radiated out under the jamb, giggling and gossiping in hushed whispers, the admonishment against talking long since forgotten even as they lay mere feet from the master bedroom's window. As if on cue, my father's voice bellowed out \"Be quiet!\", and they tittered even more furiously before finally hushing.\n\nAs the odd man out, I considered going over by my brother to help him with unofficial guard duty, but as I lacked both the constitution and awareness to even make that offer, I finally paced the porch, carefully stepping over their assorted sleeping bags, and found my spot.\n\nThe far section, which had never been completed and still had gaping chunks in the floor. Dad promised every weekend that he'd get out there with us and finish flooring it, it was what he called a neck-break hazard, but as we all knew not to play near it, and had long experience in walking the porch in the dark, it wasn't a high enough priority to put off the other tasks that just kept building up.\n\nBoth because of the relaxing wheezing as trapped air billowed up from under the house, and because my pride insisted that I at least pretend to be guarding the only other point of entry to the porch, I plopped my bag down right next to the large hole, curled up inside its warm confines, and with that steadily breezed exhalation to sooth me promptly fell asleep, the last to do so.\n\nA few hours later, I rolled over in my sleep and fell one story down onto firmly packed dirt.\n\nHill folk sturdiness. I woke up long enough to confirm I didn't break anything, made a hazy note of where I was for dealing with it in the morning, put an arm under my head as a pillow, and fell right back asleep.\n\nThat was when the tornado hit.\n\nThe next fours hour was terrifying for me, trapped underneath the house, with no way to get to the storm shelter, no way to even get out from underneath as the building above creaked and rocked with every gust, parts of it flying away with explosive bangs, and no clue what was going on.\n\nFor my family, who had woken up to my dad panicking and yelling for everyone to get off the porch and into the shelter now, and only realized as they were closing the door that I was the only one nowhere to be accounted for, it was beyond terror, and into a scene straight from Hell.\n\nAs the winds picked up and the lighter trees in the woods were ripped up, they stayed out as long as possible screaming my name, gripping onto each other to not get blown away, trying to figure out where I was. Finally, they ran back to safety. As my father fought with the wind to get the concrete door to latch, he had the perfect vantage to witness the back end of the roof of the house raise a few feet into the air, and then slam back down violently.\n\nIt was only four hours later that they finally got to leave, surveying the wreckage of the house and looking with glum eyes for signs of my fate. They found me sobbing furiously at the bottom of the hole in the porch, my throat long since hoarse from screaming for help, but otherwise miraculously unharmed and intact.\n\nThe next day, we boarded up the broken windows, and before anything else, we finished putting the floor in on the porch. My father took particular panache in sawing out a hole at the ground level below the stairs and kicking it in, so that if anyone ever got caught down here again we'd have a way out. Despite that, we were never allowed to sleep out on the porch again. And while there were many more tornados to come, they never came with the same level of excitement.\n\nOf course, that was because from then on, the moment the newscaster as much as hinted at winds picking up, my father would ferry us all out into the storm shelter, making especially sure that I was in the middle of the pack, and we'd have to huddle together overnight, cramped in the small space, until he finally decided it was safe to come out.\n\nAnd just as ritualistically, although with a bit more good humor, every time we emerged,he'd stride over to the hole he had knocked out underneath the porch, and bang twice to make sure nobody had gotten lost under there.", "The scariest thing about life is that other people have scarier lives. Almost no matter who you are, what you've done or seen, something that trumps your story has happened to someone else.\n\nPerhaps, even, there is no one person who can lay claim to having experienced the scariest thing: What is scary, how scary something is, varies so much from person to person that it is probably impossible to determine, objectively, one person who has seen the scariest event.\n\nWith that in mind, I say it is not my place to determine which of my stories is the scariest.\n\nI have almost died thrice so far in my life. I don't often talk about these events: I don't fear sharing, I just never find a moment to bring it up in a way that doesn't seem like one of those \"While backpacking in Europe...\" stories. I'll present them here, in chronological order, and leave it as an exercise for the reader, if they so choose, to determine which they would say is the most frightening.\n\n****\n\nThe first story takes place in the winter of my eighth grade year. The city where I live is very near a mountain, and my house lies on its foothills, so its a pretty common thing to go and explore the place. \nOne clear day, my dad and his friend decided that I should go snowshoeing with them near the summit. I reluctantly agreed, having no good excuse not to go. \nThe trip started nice enough. There were a few snowflakes falling, but nothing too bad. We walked around for a while, as the snow slowly got heavier. After an hour or so, my dad thought enough was enough, and told his friend that we should head back. He replied, and I quote, \"Yeah, sure, just a few more minutes, I'm trying to find a nice circular way to get back.\" \nSuch a way back never seemed to materialize. More and more snow was falling, and we were seemingly getting farther away from our car. \nSoon, it was a blizzard: The worst I've seen so far. We could barely see ten feet in front of us, behind us, we could watch our footprints fill with snow. None of us were dressed for this, but we had no choice but to keep going and hope my dad's friend knew where he was going. \nUnfortunately, he was lost as well. To this day, we can't retrace our steps. Along the mountain, there is a long path that leads between a few peaks, passing the true summit and a mountain lake nearby. There is nowhere along this path where we could have merged with it from above, yet, we did, near a sign we cannot find. The snow had gotten worse, several feet had fallen by this point. My pants had frozen, my eyebrows too. We were all tired, and cold, but all we could do was keep going, stay warm. By now, we had fallen into a routine: my dad's friend lead the way, then my dad, then me. \nOne misstep is all it takes sometimes. One miss, one slip, and its all over. I don't know what happened, but I took a step and the snow beneath me collapsed. My right leg fell into the snow all the way to the hip, my left stayed precariously over the snow, too frozen to hurt. \nUp until that moment, I had been too concerned with the trip to be scared. Right, left. Right, left. All of a sudden, I couldn't free myself to keep going. I tried to call out, \"Help!\" \nBut no one heard me.\nFor a split second, I suddenly felt that I was going to die. They couldn't hear me over the snow, I was stuck, there was no way I'd make it a night. \nIn that moment, I was trapped, alone with the fact that I was about to die.\n\n***\n\nThe second story takes place in the winter of my junior year of high school (and people wonder why I don't like winter!). I had gotten my driver's license over the summer, back in June, so I had been driving all summer and through the school year. My schedule mandated that I be in school two days out of the week at 7am, so I left before my mother woke up on several occasions. \nOne day, there was a winter storm overnight. Snow fell everywhere, accompanied by a bit of rain, and it froze everywhere. But I had to go to school, so I left early in the morning. \nThe freeway entrance near my house is an odd one. To enter the freeway, one enters a tight loop, and then turns sharply the other way at the end to merge. The latter turn became my nemesis that day. \nI turned carefully along the loop. I kept my speed slow, ten miles per hour under what I'd normally do on that stretch. Unfortunately, there was a patch of black ice on the end of the turn, and it was far too dark for me to have any hint that it was there. I hit it, and my car kept turning, facing the barrier at the side of the shoulder. I turned the wheel to prevent a skid, and the tires caught. \nFor a split second, I thought this was just going to be a story I'd tell my parents when I got home. Then, I hit the second patch of ice, still correcting for the first skid. I didn't have time to correct, as my car slid to the left, facing into* the freeway, perpendicular to traffic. \nAs a dump truck filled my view, I only had time for one thought: \"Fuck.\"\n\n***\n\nMy last story again takes place in a car, another car, another early morning. This time, it was the morning after my high school graduation. \nMy school implemented a policy I found somewhat odd. All seniors, after graduation, were highly encouraged to go to a party thrown by the school, called \"Safe and Sober\". The principle of it was to make sure no one had any access to alcohol or drugs for the night. It started immediately after the end of the ceremony, and went until 5:30 am the next morning (coincidentally, what time it is as I write this). \nThe gotcha of it was, once we checked in, they wouldn't let us leave early unless they called our parents and our parents confirmed that it was okay. Our parents obviously wouldn't stay up all night, so most of us were stuck there. Which was why, when asked for a few months prior, I said that I didn't plan on going to that party. \nHowever, some of my family was staying at our house for the ceremony. I didn't particularly wish to go home after the ceremony, and all of my friends were going to Safe and Sober. Sadly, I too decided to go. \nThe party was surprisingly enjoyable. There was bowling, pool, food, a raffle, and some other stuff that I didn't notice because the first few things existed. Then there was a poker game, where the entrance fee was $0 and the prize $50. Surprisingly, only five of us sat at the table, and we spent a while playing poker. I didn't win, mostly because a time issue meant that hands were counted rather than chips, and the game ended early. I didn't care too much, I wasn't dying of poverty, I didn't need money, and I didn't lose anything. \nThe night was mostly uneventful. I'm not sure if this is entirely true, but it must be mostly true, because if it wasn't so I'd remember more of the night. \nWhen it came time to go back, well, that wasn't so great. \nThe night before, I had trouble sleeping. After staying up for the better part of 24 hours, without the opportunity for more caffeine than was in a can of Coke and no chance for a nap, I was tired. Despite invitations to visit Starbucks, I bid my friends goodnight, and drove home. \nUnfortunately, I was much more tired than I thought. Driving along a twist along freeway trip back, I blinked and lost five seconds. \nFive seconds is a funny length of time. So much, and yet so little, happens in five seconds: A human opens his eyes in the morning, or his wife climbs out of bed a few minutes later. An insect moves out of the way of an interrogating gaze, and a flyswatter is thrown to the ground a few minutes later. \nSomething passes from being alive to being dead, or a car going 65 miles an hour travels 477 feet. \nWhen I opened my eyes, I found that I had crossed from the center lane into the shoulder. Which was bad, but not terrible, there weren't any other cars on the road. More pressing was the fact that the barrier on the side of the freeway was just barely far enough that I could see the several story drop on the other side, and it wasn't getting any farther.\n\n**\n\nIf you ask me, the neatest thing about animals is that we're really good at surviving. Humans will pull victory from the jaws of defeat, we'll wrestle a shark, we'll lift a stone much heavier than any bar we could bench, we find any tiny advantage we have on the situation, and we hold on to it, we pull, we turn it into something we can work with, we turn it into something we can bet our lives on. \nWe are survivors. It's what we do, what we've been doing for as long as mankind has wandered the Earth. \nI made it long enough to sit in front of a computer and write this. How is a separate question than if I did, the latter is trivial, the former can be interesting. \nThe first time, as it turns out, my dad did hear me. I don't think he ever told the story, but if he did, he'd tell how he turned around to see me, in a full adrenaline-fueled panic, stab my two poles into the snow, shift my weight onto my left leg, and drag myself up. I fell forward, almost going back into the hole as I shifted back, but somehow I found my way to my feet, to keep going. I'm impressed by how, I was a scrawny middle schooler who was too weak to do most things. But I made it.\n\nThe second time, well, the car was totaled. The airbag didn't go off, and I sat for a minute or two staring at it, amazed that I was alive. They took me to the hospital, put in an IV (to my great irritation), only to find that I had no injury save a scratch on my arm, and then proceeded to charge my parents quite a bit of money for the privilege. I drove my dad home that day, I'm not quite sure why he trusted me.\n\nThe last time, I pulled the wheel as far as it went. I barely missed the side of the road, and I kept going. I almost fell asleep twice more before I made it home, bid my father good night, and went to bed before I found a way to do something even dumber. \nI woke up some hours later when I was called to dinner. I went about the day, and proceeded to tell no one, until just now", "Life isn't fair.\n\nEverybody is told that growing up, but it isn't until something happens that you really feel* it. I think everybody has one of those moments. Sometimes people lose someone they love, or their house is destroyed in a freak accident, or they work their hardest and still don't get that job that they so desperately wanted... there's more ways for life to be unfair than there are stars in the sky.\n\nI was always a 'good kid with a lot of potential'. I did well in school, and did well enough on standardized tests that opportunities to go to special groups and camps for the gifted were open to me. I went to college, studied six languages, did well, and became the first person in my family to get a BA. Later, there was graduate school. I moved to another country because the degree would be cheaper (I always tried to be financially responsible and plan well for my future), and afterwards I moved to Boston and took a job at Harvard. I was the only person on my team who wasn't Harvard educated.\n\nI felt like I'd finally made it. I enjoyed my work most of the time, I wasn't punching a clock, and I made more than enough money. My coworkers were great, and I could manage my own time. It was everything you'd want in a job.\n\nThen it fell apart.\n\nFirst, I was always tired. I would get up at 6, go to work, come home, and go straight to bed. Nothing I did seemed to help; caffeine would work for a couple of days, but as soon as tolerance hit I was right back to square one. Then I started forgetting things. Words would evaporate as I started to speak, and other people's voices would enter my ears as noise, with no more meaning than the sound of the horribly obsolete printer. And I was in pain. My back burned, my legs throbbed, and no amount of Tylenol or Advil would touch it.\n\nAfter only 3 months, I was let go.\n\nDetermined for this not to happen again, I sought medical attention. They asked me questions, as doctors do, and I answered: Yes, it was burning pain. Yes, I'd had problems before. In my last year of graduate school I lost all feeling in the lower half of my body for several weeks. No, it got better, there's just some tingling sometimes. Usually when I move too quickly or take a hot shower. Yes, sometimes I got a weird feeling when I moved my neck. \n\nAll I wanted was an answer. I wanted to know I wasn't crazy, that this was real. I wasn't just being lazy. Be careful what you ask for.\n\nWhen I got my answer, I fell apart. I cried, and I stayed in bed, too depressed to move. I wondered what this meant for my life. Could I do the things I'd planned to do? What would happen to me if I couldn't work? SSI was a pittance - $700 a month. And I'm good with money, but even I can't live on that. Should I kill myself instead of be a burden? These were all questions that flashed through my mind those first weeks.\n\nAnd now? Now, having fallen apart, I'm putting myself back together. Gluing the pieces of myself into place and facing the world. Multiple Sclerosis isn't the worst thing that could happen, after all.", "I grew up on a farm in northern Alberta, and seeing as we lived far outside of a small town, we have to dispose of most of our waste ourselves.\n\nSo dad has a couple garbage bins around his shop, specifically one for \"burnable\" garbage (Cardboard packaging, wood scraps, ect) and a couple others.}\n\nOne evening, we've knocked down an old rotten out building and are bonfiring the wreckage, and for efficiency we've thrown in all Dad's burn garbage. so as my little brother and I are watching the fire, suddenly with no warning there's a massive BANG! Fire & embers go everywhere and we both go diving behind the Cultivator (big plow) we've been sitting on. 2 more explosions over the next minute or so.\n\nwe finally pull out faces outta the dirt, and inspect the pit, fire's almost out, approx 2m crater in the middle of the firepit.\n\nTurns out Dad accidental tossed a couple >almost< empty cans of Liquid fire (ether starting fluid) in the \"burn\" trashcan\" by accident. \nFortunately no injuries other than singed hair and a thrashed jacket from all the hot embers >.<", "Summer 2007, our high adventure crew was hiking in the English midlands. Don't be fooled by \"high adventure,\" we were just eleven Boy Scouts of America living overseas that opted to take the advanced course at summer camp. Biking, obstacle course, simple stuff. That was how it was supposed to be.\n\nSix of us wanted to spend a day exploring. We were three Life Scouts, two Star Scouts and a First Class plotting through a day-hike. The ranks are ordered that way to show experience on the trail to Eagle. Life Scouts are the ones about six months away from completing their scouting career. I was a Star at the time, and our First Class just got into scouting that year. He was the youngest in our crew, and we took liberal opportunities to remind him. \n\nThe route was simple. There were enough mountains and valleys in the area to make the trail obvious. Basic orienteering could guide you through there by elevation alone, without landmarks. That was well and good because there weren't any landmarks to use anyway. We stopped at one peak about four hours into the hike ready to start our descent to the returning leg of our hike. Our trail lead opted to take an easier way where the elevation was easier on our knees. The First Class wanted us to stick to the path. No surprise that the trail lead was a Life Scout, who's opinion was reinforced by the second Life Scout, who's opinion of the lead's opinion was reinforced by the third, and the Star Scout and I went with majority rules like true Americans. \n\nWe found out about two hours in that we were off by a few degrees. My only excuse was being blinded by democracy. The Life Scouts weren't so lucky.\n\nOur group got led into god knows where. I said English midlands earlier, and for the first half of the trip, that picture you're imagining is fairly accurate; large hills, low grass, sweeping blandness as far as the eye can see. It was up to this point we collectively realized that none of us were so lucky. Of the entirety of the region we planned our route around, we were blindly led into the one place where it would be impossible to find us in the fog.\n\nAnd there was fog.\n\nOur original plan was to make it back to the pick-up site where a van was going to rendezvous with us. We were meant to be complaining about our knees and getting out of our cramped hiking boots while excited to make it back for dinner. This was an hour over schedule, and not a single one of us, among three Life Scouts, had any clue how to make it to the rendezvous, let alone the main campsite, from where we were. Again, the only landmarks we had to go off of were the hills themselves. In the fog, we had no idea how to get out. \n\nIt was only at this point that a Life Scout revealed the iPhone he sneaked from his tent and had tucked away in his jacket. None of us cared at this point that he got to listen to his music for most of the way and none of us noticed, we were getting the hell out of there. Then he informed us that he had been listening to his music for most of the way, draining the battery to 2%. I distinctly remember the second of silence that came over the valley before it was filled with five teenagers shrieking at the idiot to start calling emergency services.\n\nHe actually dialed 911 first. We corrected him and sat around in dead silence. You could be five paces away and hear the dialing. It was getting chilly, and we were hungry. We wanted to get home.\n\nThe Life Scout started talking! Explained we were six scouts lost in the countryside and needed to get rescued. It was only after he started fumbling with the map that we forgot to get our estimated coordinates first. No clue how long we had, the First Class scout bust out his map faster than the rest of us and shoved it in front of our rescuer-to-be. He read out the final numbers before he went dead quiet. Followed by the worst thing any of us could have heard at that moment;\n\nHello? Hello?\n\nThere was no confirmation that they got our location.\n\nRemember that this was a day hike. We packed trail mix, light gear, a change of socks and a few first aid packs. Nothing else. This meant no tent, proper warm gear for an overnight rest in the countryside, no sleeping bag... The prompt asked us to write about our most terrifying real experience. I've had jump scares before. An irrational fear of flushing when I was younger. I was dragged down a rocky hill by one of the fastest horses in Mongolia some years earlier. That would have been my second most terrifying. Yeah, I've definitely been frightened before and after this story.\n\nBut this was the first time I feared for my life. It set in deeper than the countryside chill, and filled places in my mind I did not know existed until that moment. The cold hits me deeper than most. Then I collapsed into shock. I shivered, I shook, every muscle in my body wanted to empty those dark places in my head. The places that said giving up was fine. It overwhelmed me. I'm more embarrassed about it now than anything else, but 15 year-old me at the time set a core memory that would stick for quite a while. Not like with the horse. I didn't have time to think about what happened until after my boot unstrapped by some miracle, and only had a few bruised ribs to show for it. Here, I had time to digest it. Slowly. Savoring it. Every flavor I wouldn't experience again.\n\nI woke up with a warm jacket over me and two other scouts huddled under an emergency blanket in a neat little row. One of them came down the same way. The other was just napping. A hiking stick was struck into a ground with another orange jacket (the obnoxiously loud one we made fun of the First Class Scout for wearing everywhere). That same kid (relative to me at the time) wandered over and checked on me when I was awake. Name. Birthday. Year. Thirsty? I brought extra bottles. A few sips though, we don't want to shock your system. He was the hero I needed at the time, and not the one I deserved. \n\nI never bothered asking how much time passed. It was darker, that was all the proof I needed that our situation was still pretty awful. Then one of the Life Scouts came bounding down one of the hills yelling he saw two dim emergency van lights bouncing in the distance. In our direction. \n\nWe were saved. From going any hungier and exposure anyway.\n\nThey gave us water and packed us into the back of the vehicle once we collected all our gear. The bottles were flavored with oranges for some reason, but to this day, it was the best water has or ever will taste.\n\nOur group of six were all welcomed back by the other half of our crew. \"Beast\" is the only name I remember of that original crew. He gave each one of us a bone-crushing bear hug that lived up to his nickname. Word got around fast even though it was lights out. It wasn't \"those idiots finally made it back\" as I expected, but the six lost boys were brought back from whatever crazy adventures we were having ourselves. A few Tenderfoots would pass by two of us the next day and say we were lucky.\n\nNo, I still don't think so. That moment the phone went dead was and continues to be the weakest I ever felt.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Ok, I'll bite. \n\nI don't know what kinda story you can call it, so I'll let you be the judge and let you draw what conclusions you will from my story. \n\nLet me take you back 11 years ago, I was about 14 and I was in Mastic, a somewhat decent sized town in Long island and it was a cold, wintery night in late December, early January. \n\nI remember it as if it had happened yesterday and since than it had haunted me and had caused me to slip into a somewhat dormant fit of PTSD. Y'see, I was with my mother and a few others when it happened. It was late, roughly 'bout 8:30 or so when we were leaving some dumb run of the mill grocery store when the next thing I know, everything stops and turns to black and I wake up the next morning I wake up in a hospital. \n\nNow naturally, waking up as one would, I was somewhat confused and not being able to remember much hadn't done much to help. I remember after as clear as I remember before it happened. I remember the next set of words as if I'd just asked. I remember asking 'What happened', only to find that I was involved in a car accident and that I'd received the front of the worst of injuries.\n\nI'd sustained a full on head concussion which had also required over a 100 stitches to patch me up, as the wound itself had been opened all the way to my skull. I'd also been in and out of consciousness during the event, but during it, I can't remember a thing. \n\nI'd been told that I had puked a lot and I'd said not a word during the event. To this day, all I've gotten from it was nothing more than a simple scar (one which healed up greatly due to the fact that on my old man's side of the family, has this knack for great healing strengths, again, draw your own conclusion) and short term memory loss.\n\nOver time I merely pushed it outta my mind until the time came where I'd soon face applying for my driving license. If you'd thought that it'd been a struggle before, it gets better from here. On my 17th birthday, I began to somewhat notice an underlining theme for what'd be ahead of me, I also began noticing small signs of PTSD. Over the course of the next 6 or 7 years, I tried finding a way to somewhat....find a way to rid myself of the fear. I admit it certainly not only took its sweet time, but after a while I could feel the toll that said struggle was. I took the driving test 4 times, the 4rth being the biggest victory. \n\n\nThat victory was nearly 2 years ago and I admit, I'm still scared shitless getting behind the wheel and a subconscious part of me still relieves those memories and although I can't remember, the fear's still strong but not as strong as it'd once been. \n\nThat's my story. I'll leave it to you to judge, man.", "It starts with a whistle. Not like one pushed through the lips to fit with a tune. It’s more like the desperate cry of a tea kettle that’s been heated for far too long. Perhaps it is just an amplification of the ringing I constantly hear due to chronic tinnitus. Either way, it starts with a whistle. \n\nWhen the determined noise that resounds from my mind wakes me, I notice my surroundings. Whether it’s in the afternoon with gentle sunlight peering through the curtains, or in the middle of the night with nothing but the distant glow of a charging phone to orient me, I still know where I am. Home, where I should be safe.\n\nPerhaps that’s the worst part. Waking up in the safest place, and not being able to move. \n\nI have yet to feel something worse than the urge to run away, but being unable to. The heart pounds, the mind races, adrenaline soaks into the limbs, ready to charge only to flicker out, like a wet fuse. I trash around in my soul only to feel my fingers laying limp on the polka dotted sheets under me. I will every muscle fiber in my chest to contract, wanting to cry out but the air only escapes in a weak breath. The cold sweat makes warm and comforting blankets feel like dark waters. Skin becomes a prison. \n\nThe mind likes to play tricks on the body, on the perception of the stimuli that make up our existence. I’ll often catch myself believing I’ve turned over, that I’ve unlocked my own body and gained control. The relief is sweet, but the mind can be sadistic, or perhaps masochistic. A few seconds pass, and I find myself in the same position I was before, perfectly still, never having moved in the first place. \n\nExhaustion will get the best of me, and after what feels like an eternity but may have only been a few seconds, I let sleep take me fully.\n\nThose are the good nights.\n\nThe mind also likes to play tricks on itself. \n\nOccasionally, when my day has been particularly rough or stress is high, the whistling will wake me. I’ll know where I am, and that I’m imperfectly awake. I’ll feel my inability to move. I’ll see a creature in the room with me. \n\nSometimes it’s just a shadow of a cat scurrying across a beam on the ceiling, or the walls bleeding in patterns of crying faces. Sometimes, it’s just a general feeling of being off, as though I woke in a room that is only ninety percent mine. But most of the time, they’re solid monsters I can stare at, internalize, and observe. Maybe they’re a shadow in the corner with the outline of a large man, radiating sinister remorse in waves that send ice through my veins. Maybe it’s a crying woman sitting on the edge of my bed, face in hands, weeping. Maybe it’s a shapeless blob at my side, rambling in some language I don’t understand. \n\nThey usually leave me alone, as though I’m viewing them through a one way mirror. \n\nBut occasionally, they’ll notice me. They’ll slither, float, crawl, or limp towards me. They’ll cry into my chest, stroke my arm, or gurgle into my ears. One of them even laughed at me. I like to think the grinning, black eyed caricature of a woman that chuckled at me after stroking my face was my own mind laughing at me. After all, I’m technically doing this to myself. \n\nMy body won't move. I can't defend myself. I'm locked in, not even able to lift the covers over my eyes.\n\nBut no matter the monsters that stalk me, I’ll find myself asleep again. I’ll wake up, feel my hand rub my eye and laugh at the simple gesture of being able to move freely. I’ll look at the corners, the ceilings, the nooks and crannies to see if whatever monster my mind created for me lingered. They never do. \n\nI go about my day. My days. My weeks. My months.\n\nAll will be sound, and I’ll have nearly forgotten those restless nights. \n\nMy mind is sadistic like that. When I’m least expecting it, it turns on me.\n\nAnd it starts with a whistle. \n\n______\n\nI have some terribad sleep paralysis issues, and my mind can be an asshole to me. Enjoy! \n\n\n\n" ]	8
	[WP] A man asks God about the meaning of life and gets an unexpected answer	[ "God: \"Are you sure you really want to know what the meaning of life is?\" God looked deep into the mans eyes, awaiting his response. \n\nMan: \"Yes, God. Please tell me.\" \n\nGod: \"Life is.... Life is just a prank Bro, it's just a prank! You're gonna go through a lot of crazy shit in life, cuz y'all motherfuckers killed my son. Also, those that have it easy in life.... Cancer bro, believe dat. Now get the fuck up out of my face.\"\n\n", "\n“The meaning of life?” The voice from the sky boomed, its delicate yet powerful tones vibrated through the air, shaking the man entire body.\n\n“Y-Y-Yes my Lord. I-I wish to know the meaning of life” the man squeaked as his repeated his question again. “I w-wish to know my p-purpose in this life.”\n\n“Hmm I see…” The voice paused, signified by the sky above the man turning grey and cloudy, before it suddenly turned clear and bright as the voice started to reverberate throughout the area.\n\n“Jacob. To understand the meaning of life is to understand one’s desire for freedom, desire for happiness and desire for order. Life is an obstacle. Filled with perils and dangers, to overcome such challenges will lead you to experience the true experience and reality of life. Look deep within yourself Jacob, for life isn’t something that is just graspable and solid. It is created by those that live in it – those that survive and thrive in it. Life is the embodiment of everything – the good, the bad and the beautiful. Life is truly a mixture and it is up to people like you Jacob, to attain and have a sip of such an elixir.”\n\n“Lord, what do you by such as message?”\n\n“I am saying that you already know your purpose Jacob - and to an extent, the meaning of life. You simply just got to look deeper into your soul for all the answers I have prepared are already there. Now I must go Jacob for my time is ending.”\n“Will I ever see you again my Lord?”\n\n“Eventually, in due time we will meet again Jacob. Goodbye and remember; you are special, just like all the things that I have created. Never forget that.\nAnd with a flash of light so blinding Jacob had to shield his eyes, the sky returned to normal and the sun was shining again with the occasional cloud passing by.\nWhen Jacob was able to open his eyes, he looked up and smiled, as special warmth flowed through his body. He began to walk, confident in his heart that he will discover himself in life.\n\nAnd in time, he did.\n", "Heaven smelled like a clean Denny's. Freshly poured pancakes popped to the tune of smooth jazz, the maple syrup was warm and just runny enough and the bacon was that perfect middle between chewy and crispy. Only God could craft such a wonderful meal so consistent- he was also the only entity that could make a Denny's clean. It was the first hint to Tim that he was almost certainly deeply dead.\n\nTim didn't remember much about how he'd arrived at the Denny's in the sky- there were a flash and every muscle in his body shuddered as he thought of it. He was just in a bath before Denny's but there he sat. God was flipping a pancake right in front of him. \"Tim,\" the booming voice said, \"do you like your eggs sunnyside up or scrambled?\"\n\n\"Scrambled...with hot sauce if you could. Are you...you know, that almighty guy?\" Tim asked, he scooted the plate between his right and left fingers. The ceramic clanged against the knife and fork with each push to the left.\n\n\"Yeah. I'm the almighty chef most of the time. There are so few wonderful things I created, breakfast is by far my favorite. You know Tim, you did quite a bit right back down on that moldy grape I dropped so many years ago. Your Earth is something I wouldn't dare pick up to eat again- it's way past my five second rule!\" God let out a hearty chuckle before turning back to the griddle.\n\n\"What did I fulfill the meaning of life in my incredibly important life as a state senator in Kentucky? Or was it being a real estate mogul in the competitive market of some tucked away county? No, no it had to be my art, those chalk drawings with grass reliefs represented nature to a whole other side of my being,\" Tim centered the plate between the utensils.\n\n\"Tim...those grass relief paintings were done while you were baked out of your mind. You got so high before taping grass to those canvases I had a bit of a buzz going on all the way up here. They were not the answer, it's simple really.\"\n\n\"Fine, just tell me then- if it's so simple.\"\n\n\"It's kind of embarrassing really but this crude internet forum discovered far faster than I meant for.\"\n\n\"It's not Reddit. Please tell me Reddit didn't figure it out,\" Tim sunk his head into his palms, repeating his plea.\n\n\"The answer to the universe is the same answer as to why the Narwhal bacons at midnight. Speaking of bacon, first round's on me!\" Tim looked up at his plate, there was a smiley face in the eggs and bacon.\n\n\"Actually, every round is on me if you think about it...\" God stroked his beard.\n\n\"Of course, you're a redditor...you know that isn't even the right question? That's the question with the answer,\" Tim picked up the bacon to use as emphasis.\n\n\"Dammit! Sorry, I just got on that site, it's something isn't it?\"\n\n[END]\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nIf you liked this feel free to visit my profile/u/WritersofRohan17 for more or stop over to my site at samwasnthere.com\n\nThanks for reading!", "\"What is the meaning to life?\" he asked, his eyes full of wonder; his eyes full of tears; his eyes full of hope.\n\nAnd God looked upon him with wonder, tears, and hope.\n\n\"Why am I here!?\" he cried from the depths of his soul, his mind, his heart.\n\nAnd God responded. With soul. With mind. With heart.\n\n\"Those that can ask, have but to decide,\" was all that the immortal unchanging seer of all could say. For the there was nothing else to say.\n\nFor He, Himself had asked those very questions. And that was the answer that was provided.", "I never expected God to be a chain smoker. We sat together in a side room at a businesses expo in Atlanta and he was smoking like a chimney. Or at least he was using my associate, Jim Brown, as a form in which he could chain smoke. Possession wasn't on his list of no-no's, apparently.\n\n\"So you're really God?\" I murmured cynically. The halo over Jim's black hair made it a bit obvious that something was going on.\n\nHe puffed a cloud of smoke at me. I wrinkled my nose at the sick, minty tinge. \"Not what you were expected?\" He took another drag.\n\nI shrugged speechless, not really sure what I expected of God these days. My wife died a couple years ago and she took my faith with her. It felt like God was an uncaring monster that took and provided little. I guessed possessing someone to try and persuade an atheist feel into that category. \"Naw, this is about the picture I had in my head.\"\n\nGod arched an eyebrow. His eyes changed from Jim's cold green to a muddy brown. \"So,\" he started, putting out the cancer stick on Jim's overpriced shoe. \"Today is your lucky day Phil. Today is your day of enlightenment. You get to ask me one question.\"\n\nI felt confused, but decided why not. \"What is the meaning of life,\" I started. God rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. \"if my wife and I cannot be together any more?\" I was proud for a moment because that seemed to stop him in his tracks.\n\nGod lit another cigarette and took a drag. He sat looking off in the distance. The silence grew long and uncomfortable. \"I'll be honest with you Phil. I am the one true God. I created the whole of reality, but I am really bad at micro-management.\"\n\nI felt my jaw drop and had to catch it.\n\n\"Accidents happen,\" the Almighty continued. \"You humans were an accident. Ninety-nine percent of the planets have no life on them, and Earth wasn't suppose to be one of them. You guys were an accident. We just have to keep moving to see where it goes?\"\n\n\"So my wife just died?\" I fought back some tears. \"Not only that but life also has no meaning?\"\n\nGod reached out to put his hand on my shoulder. It was cold and heavy. \"Sorry, but that is the way things happened. I would love to change it if I could. I'd love to put purpose in your life and tell you that your wife's death saved a million people around the world. I'd love to make human's part of my plans, but I set these things in motion a long time ago. It's too late for me to do anything.\"\n\n\"But you are all powerful? Why can't you do anything?\"\n\nHe gave me a tired smile. \"I am a creator, an artist. The universe is became more of bureaucracy the larger it got. That is why I made the angels. They are heaven's little tax consultants.\"\n\nI got a picture of an Arch-angel that once swung a flaming sword, now pushed up behind a desk, wearing glass and working an adding machine. I laughed from the heart.\n\nGod's smile warmed up. \"That's the spirit. Just try to be happy and create something of your own. It worked from me when I was depressed.\"\n\nThe halo faded from Jim.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________________________\nEdit: Grammar is hard\n\nPlease give me any advance, I am new at creative writing.", "I dont know if this is valid. But there is exacly this story that i remembered from my past. AND IT IS FUCKING AMAZING. I dont own it and the original link is down ahead. I dont know if it is well know but here it is:\n\n[Original Link](http://www.fullmoon.nu/articles/art.php?id=tal)\n\n\nI met god the other day.\n\nI know what you’re thinking. How the hell did you know it was god?\n\nWell, I’ll explain as we go along, but basically he convinced me by having all, and I do mean ALL, the answers. Every question I flung at him he batted back with a plausible and satisfactory answer. In the end, it was easier to accept that he was god than otherwise.\n\nWhich is odd, because I’m still an atheist and we even agree on that!\n\nIt all started on the 8.20 back from Paddington. Got myself a nice window seat, no screaming brats or drunken hooligans within earshot. Not even a mobile phone in sight. Sat down, reading the paper and in he walks.\n\nWhat did he look like?\n\nWell not what you might have expected that’s for sure. He was about 30, wearing a pair of jeans and a \"hobgoblin\" tee shirt. Definitely casual. Looked like he could have been a social worker or perhaps a programmer like myself.\n\n‘Anyone sitting here?’ he said.\n\n‘Help yourself’ I replied.\n\nSits down, relaxes, I ignore and back to the correspondence on genetically modified crops entering the food chain…\n\nTrain pulls out and a few minutes later he speaks.\n\n‘Can I ask you a question?’\n\nFighting to restrain my left eyebrow I replied ‘Yes’ in a tone which was intended to convey that I might not mind one question, and possibly a supplementary, but I really wasn’t in the mood for a conversation. ..\n\n‘Why don’t you believe in god?’\n\nThe Bastard!\n\nI love this kind of conversation and can rabbit on for hours about the nonsense of theist beliefs. But I have to be in the mood! It's like when a Jehova’s witness knocks on your door 20 minutes before you’re due to have a wisdom tooth pulled. Much as you'd really love to stay… You can’t even begin the fun. And I knew, if I gave my standard reply we’d still be arguing when we got to Cardiff. I just wasn’t in the mood. I needed to fend him off.\n\nBut then I thought ‘Odd! How is this perfect stranger so obviously confident – and correct – about my atheism?’ If I’d been driving my car, it wouldn’t have been such a mystery. I’ve got the Darwin fish on the back of mine – the antidote to that twee christian fish you see all over. So anyone spotting that and understanding it would have been in a position to guess my beliefs. But I was on a train and not even wearing my Darwin \"Evolve\" tshirt that day. And ‘The Independent’ isn’t a registered flag for card carrying atheists, so what, I wondered, had given the game away.\n\n‘What makes you so certain that I don’t?’\n\n‘Because’, he said, ‘ I am god – and you are not afraid of me’\n\nYou’ll have to take my word for it of course, but there are ways you can deliver a line like that – most of which would render the speaker a candidate for an institution, or at least prozac. Some of which could be construed as mildly entertaining.\n\nConveying it as \"indifferent fact\" is a difficult task but that’s exactly how it came across. Nothing in his tone or attitude struck me as even mildly out of place with that statement. He said it because he believed it and his rationality did not appear to be drug induced or the result of a mental breakdown.\n\n‘And why should I believe that?’\n \n\n‘Well’ he said, ‘why don’t you ask me a few questions. Anything you like, and see if the answers satisfy your sceptical mind?’\n\nThis is going to be a short conversation after all, I thought.\n\n‘Who am I?’\n\n‘Stottle. Harry Stottle, born August 10 1947, Bristol, England. Father Paul, Mother Mary. Educated Duke of Yorks Royal Military School 1960 67, Sandhurst and Oxford, PhD in Exobiology, failed rock singer, full time trade union activist for 10 years, latterly self employed computer programmer, web author and aspiring philosopher. Married to Michelle, American citizen, two children by a previous marriage. You’re returning home after what seems to have been a successful meeting with an investor interested in your proposed product tracking anti-forgery software and protocol and you ate a full english breakfast at the hotel this morning except that, as usual, you asked them to hold the revolting english sausages and give you some extra bacon. ‘\n\nHe paused\n\n‘You’re not convinced. Hmmm… what would it take to convince you? May I have your permission for a telepathic link?’\n\n'Do you need my permission?'\n\n'Technically, no. Ethically, yes'\n\nMight as well play along I thought. 'OK - you have my permission. So convince me'\n\n'oh right! Your most secret password and its association'\n\nA serious hacker might be able to obtain the password, but no one else and I mean\n\nNO ONE\n\nknows its association.\n\nHe did.\n\nSo how would you have played it?\n\nI threw a few more questions about relatively insignificant but unpublicised details of my life (like what my mother claims was the first word I ever spoke – apparently \"armadillo\"! (Don't ask…)) but I was already pretty convinced. I knew there were only three possible explanations at this point.\n\nPossibility One was that I was dreaming, hallucinating or hypnotised. Nobody’s figured out a test for that so, at the time I think that was my dominant feeling. It did not feel real at the time. More like I was in a play. Acting my lines. Since the event, however, continuing detailed memories of it, together with my contemporaneous notes, remain available, so unless the hallucination has continued to this day, I am now inclined to reject the hallucination hypothesis. Which leaves two others.\n\nHe could have been a true telepath. No documented evidence exists of anyone ever having such profound abilities to date but it was a possibility. It would have explained how he could know my best-kept secrets. The problem with that is that it doesn’t explain anything else! In particular it doesn’t account for the answers he proceeded to give to my later questions.\n\n(continues in the link or below. reddit says its too long)", "“Oh god oh god\", I thought, memories rushing through my head on the righteousness of my deeds done throughout the short and peculiar existence known as 'life' while my body flopped around, spewing bodily fluids like some sort of epileptic seagull.\nBut! Out of the embarrassment of such a pathetic, and unheroic death the mighty seagull ascends to the heavens!\n\nOr so I thought, before my ever-so majestic soul crash-landed into a rather unsatisfactory dentists' waiting room of a building designated to recently non-living humans. Seriously. All the crudeness and shortcomings of human language become apparent in attempting to describe the sheer disappointment a mortal feels when first arriving. \"Where's Saint Peter? My guardian angel? Or my benevolent deity of choice, dammit?! I want answers!\"\n\n\"Oh god oh god oh god\", I kept thinking with my heart racing.\n\n…\n\n“DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID SOMEBODY SAY GOD? IIIIIIII THINK I CAN HELP YOU WITH THAT, SON!”\nI was met by what could be best described as \"the result of an outrageous overweight African-American gospel preacher being somehow considered competent enough by whatever bureaucracy runs the damned business of processing the recently-deceased got put on the 'new arrivals board'.\"\n\n\"OH FORGIVE ME FATHER FOR I-HAVE SI-IIIINED, PLEASE TELL ME SON, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?!\"\n\n“It’s…uh….Jeremy, sir. It’s Jeremy.”\n\n“WELL, JEREMY MY SON! YOU, HAVE DIED! AIN’T THAT SAD?”\n\n“I…I guess, I think.”\n\n“WEEEEELL, JEREMEY I THINK YOU’D DO WELL IN THE KIIIIIIIINGDOM OF OUR LORD SON!”\n\n“A-Alright, the-“\n\n“*BUT JEREMY MY SON! I HAVE BUT ONE QUESTION TO ASK YOU!”\n\n“I…go for it.”\n\n“DO YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS YOU’D LIKE TO ASK OUR LORD AND FATHER BEFORE YOU PASS ON?”\n\nBy this point I am rather certain my mental capabilities threw itself off a high-rise building. ”You have one chance to ask this question, to know something no living human knows, and you don’t know what to ask?” my mind started chastising me like a sadistic primary school teacher.\n\n“I…would like to know the meaning of life.”\n\n“WELL, SON! IT LOOKS LIKE YOU* ASKED THE RIGHT QUESTION! HOLD UP, LET ME GET MY JC ON THE PHONE!*”\n\nThe charismatic grim reaper picked up a brick-sized phone reminiscent of the eighties with “JC- FOR IMPORTANT QUESTIONS ONLY. THAT INCLUDES YOU, ARISTIADES,” crudely drawn on in what appeared to be black marker. Saint Peter was on a union-regulated workers’ break, I guess.\n\n“YEAH! THIS GUY! MEANING OF LIFE! I KNOW, RIGHT!”\n\nHis face lit up with a sense of immortal glee.\n\n“HE WANTS TO SPEAK TO YOU, DIRECTLY!”\n\nHe held the phone to my ear.\n\nI spoke quietly. Maybe too quietly. Maybe too much panic underlying my words. I don’t know, people do weird things when you are about to literally talk to a servant of God himself.\n\n“H-hello? I would like to know the meaning of l-life please.”\n\nThere was only silence.\n\n…\n\n“THAT QUESTION WILL BE ANSWERED THIS SUNDAY NIGHT AT THE WWE SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPERSLAM!”\n\nTrumpets blew open my ear drums with sheer level of apocalyptic power described in Revelations 8:1. Their manly authority incinerated the inner workings of my auditory cavity. It was too much for my mortal self. I had perished in the immortal plain, and back to the mortal plain I was.\n", "whoosh* That's the only way I can describe it. A sudden rush of air, with a sound like the beating of huge wings. Then, while I blinked at the sound, there were two men in my apartment. Each was sharply dressed in a suit and tie, one wearing grey and white, the other black and white. The one in grey was taller, well-built, like a football player or warrior. The other, in black, was slighter and more lithe, with the thin build of a distance runner or gymnast. Each had eyes that shifted from pools of liquid gold to molten silver, endlessly shifting back and forth. The one in grey had close cropped, yet stylish dark hair, and his companion had longer hair, straight, down to to his shoulders, and pure white. I gasped and backed away with a start, getting off my knees and pushing against the nearest wall. \n\n\"Wh- who are you?! How did you get here?\" I stuttered, trying to get the words out. I tried to sound tough, but it came out with a mousy squeak. \n\n\"Well, brother mine, I guess he wasn't expecting us...\" The shorter of the two spoke first. He voice sounded like smooth jazz, with a lilt in odd syllables and a hypnotic musical quality. \n\n\"Indeed, it appears not. Strange really, considering we're here because he asked.\" The taller man's voice was a crash of waves upon a rock. Powerful, commanding, the kind of voice you couldn't ignore, even if you wanted to. he spoke again before I could respond.\n\n\"We're here because our father sent us here to answer you for him. You asked him a question, right?\" His gaze burned into me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.\n\n\"You--you're father? I didn't ask anyone anything. Just, please, don't hurt me.\" Staring into those eyes, my false courage gave way and I settled for pleading. \n\n\"Yes, yes you did. You asked him what the meaning of life was. He's too busy to handle questions like that himself, but he sent us to answer for you.\" The tall man looked amused, with a slight smile on his too-handsome face.\n\n\"I... I didn't! I swear. The only time I ever asked that was when I was... praying...\" Then it dawned me, smashing into my conscious like a wrecking ball. I prayed... Then these men showed up, in a rush of wings. They were talking about their Father. Wait, these were angels! God heard me! He answered my prayer.\n\n\"Ah, there it is. Now he understands you, brother mine. I suspect he now knows what we are, if not who.\" The shorter of the two seemed more serious than his brother, less flippant and frivolous.\n\n\"Ah, terribly sorry about that, mortal. I am Michael, and this is my brother Lucifer.\" Lucifer?! Like the Devil? I glanced fearfully at the smaller one, and then back to the liquid metal of the taller one, Michael, he said his name was.\n\n\"Haha!\" He barked out a laugh. \"Luci, that will never get old for me. They are all so afraid of you!\" Lucifer looked more sullen now, bordering on upset. \"Oh don't be so upset, brother. He couldn't possibly know.\" Lucifer seemed to calm a bit, looking less angry and more resigned. I tried to finally find my voice. \n\n\"Sorry, but isn't he the bad guy?\" I was trying not to look at Lucifer, afraid he'd take my soul or something equally bad.\n\n\"You mortals, always so obsessed with him being the Fallen. That was your story, that you invented and believed. He has always been my brother, nothing more or less.\" Michael seemed to be losing his patience now, irate on behalf of his brother, it seemed.\n\n\"The task, brother mine. He didn't pray for a history lesson.\" Lucifer seemed to be the responsible one, keeping his brother on target. \n\n\"Ah, yes! The task! You asked our Father what the meaning of life was. He sent us to tell you! Would you like to know?\" I desperately tried to nod yes, how could I say no? The fundamental human question!I was going to know the meaning of life!\n\n\"42.\" Michael's voice was completely deadpan, and I stared at him in shock for a moment. Like the book?! Seriously? \"No no, I'm kidding. Sorry. Your Douglas was was so fascinating. He really is a wonderful storyteller for your universe.\"\n\nI breathed a sigh of relief. That would have been an awful answer, one that I couldn't say I would accept, even if true. Wait, my universe? I kept my mouth shut and let him talk. \n\n\"No mortal, the answer is infinitely more complex than that, but also infinitely simpler. The answer is that your life is the first life of the entire universe. It's also the last life, and every life in between. This entire planet, and all the stars and galaxies around it, are a playground created for you. Endless entertainment, so that you may never tire of its wonders.\" His voice sounded so reverent, as if he was describing God Himself.\n\n\"Our Father created an infinite number of playgrounds, for his infinite children, you mortals, to play in. When you die, you are born again as someone else. This whole universe is just you, at different points in time and space, endless living the greatest adventure than anyone will ever have. The meaning of life, mortal, is to enjoy, until the end of time and all things, the paradise our Father built for you.\"\n\nMy breath caught, and I suddenly let out a massive exhalation, as my body finally caught up with the magnitude of what he was saying. All of this, was for me? Or did he just mean humanity as a whole.\n\n\"Is this universe just for me, or were you saying 'you', as in humanity?\" It seemed wrong to question more after such a revelation, but I couldn't stop myself.\n\n\"It's all for you, Jacob Ralph Habegun. This whole universe was created for you to live and explore and enjoy. All of it. All things and people, are so that you may know his creation and never tire of it.\" Michael sounded a bit jealous now, as if I didn't deserve my universe. He was probably right though, I didn't deserve it...\n\n\"Michael...\" Lucifer's tone was half warning, half sympathy, as if he understood Michael's jealousy, but cautioned him against it. \"Come, brother mine. We have delivered Father's message. We're done here.\"\n\n\"Wait! Does that mean there is no Heaven? When I die, am I just reborn? If so, then what about religion? What about good and evil, heaven and hell?\" I rushed the words, trying to get more answers before my guides left. \n\n\"You must figure that out for yourself. After all, you started the first religion, and heaven and hell were your ideas. No other universe has them, at least not like yours does. Find your own truth now, Jacob.\"\n\nThere was another rush of wind and when I blinked again, my apartment was empty. I had it though, everything humanity, by which I meant me, had always sought to attain. Everything that we ever searched for. The meaning of life. ", "\"Dear heavenly Father, blessed be thy name,\" I'd started like every night before bed. Of course, I'd never get a straight answer beforehand, it always came as a cryptic message. \"I'd like to-\" My words were cut off by a clap of ear ringing thunder.\n\nI had moved location. Where the hell was I? It was hot and red. Did I die and go to hell? \"Hello?\" I called out. \"You were going to ask for the meaning of life, weren't you?\" Came a snakey voice, echoing in my ears. I turned towards where I thought it'd came from. \"Wrong way.\" The voice teased, and I did a complete 360. \"Truth is, I'm everywhere.\" The voice barks out a villainous laughter.\n\n\"Where the hell am I?\" I asked, rather distraught. \"Oh, my dear boy, I believe your question answered itself.\" The voice rang through my head. I forced my feet to move themselves down the bridge I'd been on since arriving in this place. \"So, the meaning of life?\" The voice asks, and I could almost envision what I believed to be a serpents quizzical look.\n\n\"Can we move along with this?\" I asked, beginning to get agitated after waiting what felt like an hour for a response from the voice. \"I have an art project due in the morning, and I'd like to get back to it.\" The voice returned with a booming laugh. It almost startled the hair right off my head.\n\n\"The true meaning of life...\" The voice echoed through my skull once more, and there seemed, now, to be multiple voices speaking at once. \"Well, the true meaning of life is *kill or be killed.*\" The voices immediately cut off after that, no more echo.\n\nThe next day I failed my project. That was the last straw for the school. I was kicked out. All that money down the drain. And so started my campaign.", "A man suffers a heart attack and meets god. God in his great BOOMING VOICE tells the man, \"ASK ME ANY QUESTION AND I SHALL GIVE YOU THE ANSWER.\" the man tough about it for a minute and asked, \"what is the meaning to life my lord?\" God stares at him beaming. \"AHA THIS QUESTION AGAIN. EVERY TIME. HOW ABOUT WHO IS GOING TO WIN THE NEXT SUPER BOWL? HINT NOT THE CHARGERS HAHAHA.\" The man becomes uneasy as he never believed in god but he had read the bible and knows what the man is cable of. \"Umm sir, can we get back to the question..\" God looks back dissatisfied with the reaction or lack there of. \"THE PUPPY AND KITTEN BOWL.\" \"Umm what sir? Did you just say the Puppy and Kitten Bowl? Like the thing after the superbowl but with animals?\" \"YES! I LOVE THAT SHOW\" \"but how is that the meaning of life when it only started up 12 years ago.\" WATCHING CUTE ANIMALS COMPETE FOR A GOOD CAUSE IS THE MEANING OF LIFE. WHY DO YOU THINK MY NAME IS SPELLED DOG BACKWARDS!\" \"But, what about your book? The virgin marry that gave birth to your son? Jesus and all of his miracles?! What about the holy bible?!\" \"AHH YES THE BOOK. WELL MARY WAS A WHORE. YOU REALLY THINK I GOT HER PREGNANT? SERIOUSLY. THE WISE MEN ONLY CAME BECAUSE THEY ALL THOUGHT THEY WERE THE FATHER'S. JESUS IS MY SON LIKE YOU ARE ALL MY SONS AND DAUGHTERS. I'M REALLY DISAPPOINTED THE PUPPY BOWL ISN'T A BIGGER DEAL DOWN THERE. LIKE SERIOUSLY. WAR, FAMINE, DOGS NOT BEING CUDDLED. AND NOW YOU GUYS ARE BEING DIVIDED BY RACE AND SEX. BUT YOU FAIL TO REALIZE THE ONE THING THAT BRINGS YOU ALL TOGETHER. THE ME-DAMNED PUPPY BOWL! DOGS HAVE NO BIAS. THEY LOVE WITHOUT CONDITION. I HAVE GIVIN YOU THE ULTIMATE COMPANION AND AN EVENT TO BRING EVERYONE TOGETHER. THE PUPPY BOWL IS THE MEANING OF LIFE CHILD!\" the man was knocked off his feet. Unable to comprehend this. \"And what of the devil? What is his role in all of this?\" \"THAT BASTARD RUNS FOX NEWS TO DISTRACT YOU BRAINLESS APES FROM THE TRUTH.\" ", "One second I was curled up in a fetal position, sobbing into the arm of my couch, cursing and yelling nonsense into the air - and the next I was sitting in a white room.\n\nWell, it wasn't really a room because there wasn't a floor. Or walls. Or a ceiling. But I was sitting on something. And I felt closed in, somehow.\n\nAnd there he was, walking towards me. \n\nGod.\n\nI don't even know how I knew. It's not like I'm a religious person. But I still knew.\nHe stopped a few feet in front of me.\n\n\"Hey.\"\n\nHis voice was quiet but deep.\n\nI was shivering and just stared up at him. There were still tears and snot streaming down my face.\n\n\"So um. I heard you...you know. A minute ago.\"\n\nHe crouched down and folded his hands and stared into my eyes.\n\n\"You were asking about the meaning of life?\"\n\nHe waited.\n\nI managed to nod my head and wipe my face with my sleeve.\n\n\"Well. I realize this isn't usual protocol..but..you know..\" he shook his head slightly, \"sometimes it gets hard seeing you all like this. Just asking these same questions, over and over. The meaning of it. Purposes. What happens when it's all over. You ask it so so often...\" He trailed off.\n\nI waited for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a minute. \n\n\"I get it. I get why there's so many questions. You have these things happen - like, death - I'm sorry, for what it's worth. I know you loved her very much.\"\n\nI start crying again, silently.\n\nHe looked down and continued.\n\n\"But you have these things happen and you start asking all these questions. But you never ask them until the bad things happen. When everything is good, nobody asks - why are these good things happening? So the thing is...I don't really know how to put this, because I know you aren't capable of understanding this fully...but there just isn't. A purpose. Or meaning.\"\n\nI stop crying and stare at him.\n\n\"What?\" my voice shakes and squeaks. \n\n\"Well. It's complicated...but I was sort of bored one day and I decided to make you guys up. I didn't really think it through. I just wanted someone else around. You guys were cute little things. And then you started breeding and there were more - and those little ones are just adorable, you know? Ugh. I didn't realize you would all start becoming so self-aware. I just thought you'd eat and breed and play and it'd be fun. I just didn't expect all this. And now you guys are just getting out of control. All the fighting and you're ruining your home and asking me all these questions....\"\n\nHe looked up at me.\n\n\"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen.\"\n\nI was shaking hard now, my teeth chattering. My head was spinning.\n\n\"Oh no, now you're going into shock. See what I did now..\"\n\nHe stood up and stepped towards me. He reached his hand out and I flinched, involuntarily.\n\nHe sighed and reached further and tousled my hair.\n\n\"Just try to be happy, okay? That's all I wanted for you. All of you. You're alive. You're living beings. You can love and make love and play and eat. Isn't that enough? I mean...does there really have to be more?\"\n\nHe sighed again, a deep long sigh, and I was back on my couch.", "To be honest, when I found out I was going to meet God, I expected quite a bit more. I thought I would see some grand ancient figure, some shining paragon of power beyond mortal comprehension itself. And yet the man who sat before me was just that, an ordinary guy in a suit, unremarkable in every way.\n\n\"My sincerest apologies.\" he replied, simply seeing through me. \"I'm afraid you humans have exaggerated quite a bit of my stories. And even with the amount of power I do have, I prefer to remain humble about it.\"\n\n\"I see. Anyways, you know everything, don't you?\"\n\n\"In a way.\" he replied. \"I mean, it's not that I keep it all up here or anything.\" He gestured to his head. \"However, I need only look to discover everything there is to know about something, down to the most infinitesimal particle. And from that information, I can piece together its past and predict its future.\"\n\n\"You can see my future?\"\n\n\"Of course, I know pretty much what would be in store for you if I disappeared right now and let you live out the rest of your life. But if I told you, then it might change, would it not?\"\n\n\"I suppose. Anyways, the thing I've been meaning to ask you about... What's the meaning of life? Why were we placed here on Earth? What purpose do we have?\"\n\n\"First of all... define life.\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"This is a big universe. I've got trillions and trillions of planets with differing natural phenomena. What do you mean by life?\" He produced a small toy, a tiny chicken of plastic and metal. Winding up a key on its side, he gently set it down on the table, and it began to walk towards me. \"This toy, for example. Is it alive?\"\n\n\"...I'd say no.\" I replied, catching the toy before it could walk off the table. \"I mean, its just a spring and some gears, right?\"\n\n\"Perhaps you could consider it a creature that feeds off of the energy of me winding it. A very simple creature, yes, but it does things nonetheless.\"\n\n\"It doesn't reproduce on its own, though.\"\n\n\"Neither do you. You require a human of the opposite gender, and this chicken requires a factory.\"\n\n\"But the chicken and the factory aren't the same species. They don't even have genetic material.\"\n\n\"This chicken has an idea behind it, does it not?\" God asked. \"Its design. Its inner workings. The plans that this was made from. This universe is far larger than you know, and most races do not possess nucleic acids of any kind despite a few of them being even more advanced than you are. I doubt they'd take kindly to being called nonliving. Anyways...\" He pulled a lighter out of his pocket, flicking it on. \"I hear this is an example that you humans once pondered. This flame. Is it alive?\" Wrinkling up a napkin, he lit a corner of it ablaze. \"It is born. It eats. It breathes. It grows. It reproduces.\"\n\n\"Well, of course not.\"\n\n\"Before you explain your reasoning, I'd like to tell you the story about a small planet several light-years from here.\" God interrupted. \"Its inhabitants are crystals, small crystals that are rather similar in structure to your own computers. They sense radio waves, analyze and store information with piezoelectric impulses, and reproduce by attracting dissolved minerals in their seas to grow clones. Relatively recently for them, they discovered calculus.\"\n\n\"...But still. None of these things check all the boxes. They don't meet all the criteria needed to be considered alive.\"\n\n\"Neither do you.\" he replied. \"There are aliens out there who would consider you inanimate for not being powered by plutonium, for not being capable of unaided flight, for not sharing a single consciousness...\"\n\n\"So I'm just like this chicken?\" I stared at the wind-up toy in my hand.\n\n\"From a certain point of view, yes.\" God answered. \"That's why I can't tell you the meaning of life. Because life isn't really a thing. That chicken is a machine. A system. It obeys one simple rule. When it is wound, it will walk forwards until it runs out of energy. You're more complex. You follow lots of rules.\" Without warning, he kicked me in the knee under the table, prompting my leg to reflexively shoot out. \"That's one of them. When your knee is hit, your leg straightens. When the otherwise friendly person you're talking to suddenly hits you, you look at them like that. You're an extremely complicated system, but you're a system nonetheless. It's not much different from those computer programs you humans are so fond of. Things happen and cause other things. These systems appear all over the universe, from the scale of galaxies to sizes of a single Planck length. Many times, these systems can do extraordinary things, like trap light with immense gravity, fuse elements in vast and powerful forges, spew molten rock from the ground, or even hold a conversation with me. A sufficiently complex system could even create the universe.\" He raised an eyebrow mischievously. \"To conclude, life is nothing more than an arbitrary set of constraints that allow humans to specialize a bit when it comes to exploring the wonders of the universe. If there is a meaning to all this... it's that the present happens because the past happened, and the future will happen because the present is happening and the past already happened. You were put here because of past events, and your purpose is to cause future events. Everything is a product of what came before.\"\n\n\"So you're a system too?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" He nodded. \"I said yes and nodded just now because I heard a statement phrased in the form of a question that I knew to be correct. That is one of my many rules.\"\n\n\"Did someone create you, too?\"\n\n\"Who can say?\" he shrugged. \"Perhaps I was created by an even more complex system. I don't know what goes on above my head.\"", "When I sat down next to God, I don’t know what it was I expected. To be hugged into some epic aura of divine understanding and comfort, perhaps. To know what could not be known. To be, for just a moment, everything the human race never knew it was. \n\nBut it was really more just that uncomfortable silence brought on by staring at a stranger while sitting spitting distance on a bench. Me looking at him, him trying to get a squirrel to come nibble on the dregs of his smelly salami sandwich. Me repeating the number 42 over and over in my head, him swearing and swatting at a troop of fire ants that had migrated from the sidewalk up his left pant leg. \n\nFinally, unable to take it any longer, I found myself mumbling at his expectedly wisened face, “So what’s the deal, man?”\n\n“Pardon?” he turned, a vague hint of annoyance creasing in his bushy grey brows. \n\n“Life, the universe, everything, dude. What’s the deal?” I was brave now. Brazened. Ready for the epiphany. The sum total of my life’s work coming down to this moment. Me, God, a squirrel, and the most disgusting sandwich made this side of 5th avenue. \n\n“Ok, Douglas Adams,” he huffed, staring blankly at a tree across the path from us. \n\nWell, I thought, at least he’s well read. I stared down into my palms.\n\nHe turned to me then, a strange instantaneous sort of motion that’s implied, though never actually seen. My eyes focusing hard into the lines of my pink, irritated skin, I could feel his attentions press deep and full into the side of my face. I did not dare meet his gaze. \n\n“Because,” he said simply. The heat of his eyes moving back to the tree, then down, trying to recapture the squirrel he’d been so aggravatingly interested in moments before. \n\n“Because what?” I said. \n\n“Oh, you know,” I could hear the smile in his voice as he rose, “just… because.”", "A bright, blinding light. The sounds of mountains splitting, oceans boiling, livestock in a frenzy of panic. A lowly mountain range shepherd was the least likely of candidates to hear the Archangel Metatron, and yet there he was, getting a full blast of heavenly energy that knocked him clean off his feet. \n\n\"What...what are you?!\" He finally managed to spit out through frightened lips. \n\n\"I am Metatron. The voice of God. You have been chosen.\" The sky boomed. The mountains themselves quaked with the reverb of its voice. \n\n\"Chosen for what?\" The shepherd squeaked. \n\n\"To recieve the answer to any question you may have of God. Your future, the fate of your species, whatever your heart desires\"\n\n\"I...I wish to know the meaning of life?\" The shepherd answered uncertainly. \n\n\"Oh Jesus Fucking Christ,\" the voice boomed \"Of all the questions you could ask your eternal creator you go with the biggest cliche of them all. Boss, what do you want me to say to this cretin?\" The sky pulsed, lightning flashed, thunder threatened to blast the shepherd's eardrums to smithereens. \"All right, if you say so. YOU!\"\n\n\"M-m-me?\" a slow trickle of urine escaped him. \n\n\"Since you have asked, you shall be told the truth. Are you prepared?\"\n\n\"Y-Y-Yes!\" He felt honored. Special. No human being has ever recieved a direct answer to the all pervasive question of purpose in the universe. \n\n\"All right...\" There was a gust of wind as the world itself seemed to sigh. \"There is no purpose to your existence. In fact, you were one of the last species created in the universe. One of the least intelligent, least resilient ones. You were created from the leftovers of great, noble species like the Tilaxeiu and Baranath. Everything you are is a product of chance and a slow, meandering evolution on your boondocks planet in your less than average galaxy. Every other species on this planet, besides your own, has mastered their purpose in life. God has granted even the smallest ant the same opportunity as you have been given today, and do you know what that measly creature wished to know?\" There was a stillness.\n\n\"..what?\" The shepherd softly asked\n\n\"where to send the thank you card.\" The sky pulsed, light escaping cloud cover for a moment, then retreating. \"Your species is the only one on this planet arrogant enough to believe there was a purpose in your creation. You were made because God is a stingy cunt who doesn't like to waste material. You should bow down and pray there isn't a recall of the product, like your Noah experienced. Instead, you ask what your purpose is. Well, here it is: You have none. Whatever you wish to do, do. Whatever you wish to make, make. You have been given freedom unlike any other of God's creatures, which you squander. All other beings in this universe have purpose, are slaves to it. They are incapable of profound change.\n\n\"But you! You are free. You can create your own purpose only because God truly does not care about you. You were given an advantage most species could only dream of. And in your freedom, you beg for chains. Make your own purpose; you are but a krill in the vast ocean of existence, use your status however you'd like.\"\n\nThe silence was intense after such a heralding of bad news. \n\n\"Satisfied?\" The sky asked. \n\n\"...yes.\" The shepherd whispered. \n\n\"Good. Now that you've wasted the ultimate opportunity of mankind, good day.\" As the sky returned to normal, the livestock settling in the aftermath of the unearthly stress they had experienced, the shepherd was left alone with his thoughts. \n\nAnd he smiled. " ]	14
	[WP] Write a Wikipedia entry from an alternative history.	[ "Neu Schaan is the most populous City on the east Coast of the north-american Continent. It is sometimes refered to by older Names like Nieuw Amsterdam or New York, back from the time of dutch or british Control respectively. \n\nThe City was founded in 1624 by dutch Colonists and was surrendered to the British in 1664, when it was renamed New York after a City on the british Mainland, which is these days known as Schweinheim. It was for 4 years capital of the unnamed rebel Government and fell to Greater Liechtenstein in 1789 in the Sklavenkrieg.\n", "The Russo-American War\n\nThe Nuclear War redirects here.\n\nThis article is a stub. You can help by expanding it by adding more information.\n\n***\n\nThe Russo-American war is a long period of armed conflict between the [United States of America](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States), and the [Soviet Union](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soviet_Union), lasting between 1961 to 1989.\n\nKnown for the intense [nuclear warfare](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nuclear_warfare) and the [arms race](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arms_race) between the two factions leading up to the conflict, the war involved much scientific breakthroughs in medicine, weaponry, and energy generation.\n\nThe war originated when tensions finally led the way for the war, when on October 27, 1961, miscommunication broke the standoff between the two governments at Checkpoint Charlie involving tanks lined up on either side. [Staff Sergeant Wilson Cooper](http://www.badassoftheweek.com/sgtstubby.jpg) is reported to have fired the first shots, when his unnamed tank commander ordered him to attempt to shoot a bird. The Soviet forces reportedly mistook this action as a sign of hostility, and fired on the American tank forces.\n\n*\n\nCONTENTS\n\n1. Backround\n\n 1.1 The Cold War\n\n 1.2 Communism and Democracy\n\n2. Pre-war events\n\n 2.1 Russian Embassy Massacre\n\n 2.2 Annexing of Poland\n\n3. Course of the War\n\n 3.1 Checkpoint Charlie standoff\n\n 3.2 Attack and Destruction of Fort Lee\n\n 3.3 Bombing of St. Petersburg\n\n 3.4 Atomic bomb dropped on Checkpoint Charlie\n\n 3.5 Erection of The Wall\n\n 3.6 Gas bomb droppings on neutral and enemy countries\n\n 3.7 Involvement of Prussia, Poland, South Africa and the Philippines.\n\n 3.8 Formation of the Alliance\n\n 3.9 Advance of the Soviet Union\n\n 3.10 Alliance pushes forward\n\n 3.11 Alliance loses momentum\n\n 3.12 Soviet Union closes in\n\n 3.13 Rebellion of the Americans\n\n 3.14 Alliance is abolished\n\n4. Aftermath\n\n 4.1 De-arnament of the Americans\n\n 4.2 Territories\n\n 4.3 ASEAN's power gain\n\n5. Impact\n\n 5.1 Casualties and war crimes\n\n 5.2 Vodka\n\n 5.3 Metal Crisis of 1989\n\n 5.4 Scientific breakthroughs\n\n 5.5 Technological advancements\n\n6. See also\n\n7. Notes\n\n8. Citations\n\n9. References\n\n10. External Links\n\n*\n\nBackground*\n\n The Cold War\n\n Main article: [Cold War](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cold_War)\n\nThe Cold War was a state of political and military tension after World War II between powers in the Western Bloc (the United States, its NATO allies and others) and powers in the Eastern Bloc (the Soviet Union and its allies in the Warsaw Pact).\n\nThe period lasted between 1947 to 1961 The term \"cold\" is used because there was no large-scale fighting directly between the two sides, although there were major tense standoffs, such as the Cuban Missile Crisis, or the aforementioned Checkpoint Charlie Standoff. \n\nEach side claimed to have nuclear stockpiles, which managed to deter attacks by the other side, on the basis that such an attack would lead to total destruction of the attacker. Aside from the development of the two sides' nuclear arsenals, and deployment of conventional military forces, the struggle for dominance was expressed via psychological warfare, massive propaganda campaigns and espionage, rivalry at sports events, and technological competitions such as the Space Race.\n\nThe Cold War officially escalated into the Russo-American War on October 27, 1961, in the Checkpoint Charlie Standoff.\n\nPre-war events\n\n* Russian Embassy Massacre\n\n Main Article: [Russian Embassy Massacre](http://internetencyclopedia.wikia.com/)\n\nOn March 9, 1961, a group of five masked men arrived at the Russian Embassy in Washington, armed with assault rifles and high-capacity magazines. They entered the building and shot up the place.\n\nAll five men were fatally shot in the head when police and S.W.A.T. forces arrived.\n\nThough the group's motives remain unknown, many blame American patriots for the incident.\n\n* Annexing of Poland\n\nOn May 30, 1961, the entirety of Poland was annexed by the United States of America.\n\nAlthough no official statement was given by the United States Armed Forces, or the Government of the United States of America, many suspected that it was the attempts of America to gain more land.\n\nCourse of the war\n\n* Checkpoint Charlie Standoff\n\n Main article: [Checkpoint Charlie](http://internetencyclopedia.wikia.com/)\n\n* Attack and Destruction of Fort Lee\n\n Main article: [Storming of Fort Lee](http://internetencyclopedia.wikia.com/)\n\nThe day after the Checkpoint Charlie Standoff and the declaration of war by both countries, some 750 Russian insurgents stormed Fort Lee, a military base crucial to the training of soldiers and storage of many of the United State's armaments.\n\nFort Lee was burnt to the ground. As much as 1,500 American soldiers lay dead, and around 470 Russian insurgents were dead.\n\nThis struck a huge blow to the American production, as Fort Lee was the closest to the eastern shore, therefore increasing troop and equipment transport time.\n\n* Bombing of St. Petersburg\n\nIn retaliation to the complete destruction of Fort Lee, 50 American fighters and bombers left an airfield on September 5, arrived St. Petersburg on September 6, and bombed the city for 3 days.\n\nAs many as 1,090 buildings were destroyed, as well as 5,560 civilian casualties.\n\n* Atomic bomb dropped on Checkpoint Charlie\n\nSoviet engineers were researching on how to recreate the atomic bomb that America had used on Germany during the War of 1940. They tested it on advancing American troops that were in Checkpoint Charlie.\n\nAmerica lost 5,000 ground units, and up to this day, it is still not entirely safe to be in.\n\n* Erection of The Wall\n\n Main article: [The Wall](http://internetencyclopedia.wikia.com/)\n\n* Gas bomb droppings on neutral and enemy countries\n\nadd content\n\n* Involvement of Prussia, Poland, South Africa and the Philippines.\n\nadd content\n\n* Formation of the Alliance\n\n Main article: [The Alliance](http://internetencyclopedia.wikia.com/)\n\n* Advance of the Soviet Union\n\nadd content\n\n* Alliance pushes forward\n\nadd content\n\n* Alliance loses momentum\n\nadd content\n\n* Soviet Union closes in\n\nadd content\n\n* Rebellion of the Americans\n\nadd content\n\n* Alliance is abolished\n\nadd content\n*****\nI will continue when i have time\n\nEDIT: Halp how 2 make sooper huge letters" ]	2
Write what comes to mind. Obviously you'll have to open your eyes to submit.	[WP] Close your eyes and tune out all outside distractions while you write a short story.	[ "I'm on an iPad:\n\n>I an nichael rpsen and o öoke plumd and cboxolagw cake, i wn dwbyq foqud, nfö) o qeypr bibipp tbub åirht l tjä\n\nYeah, you see where this is going.\n\nI am Michael Rosen, and I like plums and chocolate cake. I am Santa Claus; nice! \n\nI stood on the hill as Harrybo pushed me down. Fucking Harrybo! Oh no! \n\nThen, I realised I had gained the power to circumsize penises!\n\nI went around going \"Snip snip!\" and \"No breathing!\" until Link came and said: \" Gee! I'm so hungry, I could eat a Michael Rosen!\" Then I died, and became a spooky scary skeleton! (X-Post from /r/NoSleep)", "In one hand I hold my staff, keeping it close to me, and in the other, I hold my lantern. It guides me on my journey to somewhere, though I don't know where somewhere is. A place far from society, a place of solitude. That is the place I wish to go to, and that is the place that my starlit lantern will take me. My cloak drags as I trudge through the snow, but I take no notice. All of my energy is focused on arriving at my destination. Whether I will ever arrive there is beyond me, but it is the journey that I will learn from after all. I have met many people through my journeys and found myself becoming a travelling advisor. Having learned these roads and paths, the way the water falls from the sky and the the mysterious actions of people, I became a walking well of knowledge, not hesitating to share any of its fine resources. Here, I stop, and step onto one particular rock topped with fresh snow. While the lantern is still raised in my right hand, I hold my staff to my forehead and close my eyes. Besides the odd creak from the hinges of my lantern's handle, there is complete silence and tranquillity. Even walking over oceans during storms, I think I could find something peaceful. The world is full of wonders like that.\n\nPerhaps that is why they call me the Wise Man. " ]	2
	[WP] A popular author has been outed for stealing stories from r/writingprompts, now reddit is seeking vengeance.	[ "\"Really, Mr. Clark. You expect us to believe that? A coincidence? Do you think we are as dumb as you look?\" \r\n\n\"Agent Marks, I swear it's the truth! I swear!\" Clark squirmed on the hard metal chair. Despite the chill of room, the sweat began to bead up on his brow.\r\n\n\"You are telling me, your story came from a subreddit and it just happened to be a cypher containing the President's itinerary for his trip to Germany?\"\r\n\n\"Look, I saw an interesting writing prompt and just copy - pasted the thing and emailed it to my publisher. I stole it from some redditor\"\r\n\n\"Clark, do you want to take a wild guess at the chances of 'coincidence' leading to a coded message being embedded in a story about assassinating a sitting president. The odds on the President's real itinerary getting written into a story like that is so small it's laughable. Look\t A damn good agent, one of my best friends is in a hospital with a bullet in his shoulder because you somehow got this information and used your short stories to pass the information on to a terror group. You are going to tell us everything or you are going to a prison cell that makes Guantanamo look like a day spa\"\r\n\nPanic broke across Clarks face. Through horrified tears he screamed, \"Please! I swear! I don't know anything\"\r\n\n\"Cuff him. Get this bastard out of my sight\"\r\nClark's cries of innocence quickly faded as the other agents dragged him out of the room and off to his fate.\r\n\nMarks pulled out his cell phone and made call.\r \"Hey, Tanner, it's me. A quick update... it worked. Listen... I know we all accept that we might have to step in front of a bullet one day, still. I don't think we expected to do it to get payback. I appreciate this. We all do.\"\r\n\n\"It was nothing. Comon, I was never in any real danger. Jack is a hell of a shot and besides, that ass stole my work too... some of my best stuff. Hell he stole from all of us.\" Agent Tanner adjusted the sling around his left arm.\r\n\n\"Yeah... never really thought POTUS would go for this plan. Poor bastard… of all the stories out there, Clark had to go and steal a story from one of the President’s kids\" said Marks\n\r\n\"If it weren't for him getting the NSA to draft that story for us and then delete the thread from the reddit servers we never could have pulled it off.\" Tanner shook his head in disbelief\r\n\n\"Lets not forget the German PM for inviting the Boss over for a 'visit'...\" Marks smiled at that one and continued, \"Anyway, man... get better soon. Rumor has it there's someone reposting claiming its OC\"\r\n\n\"Christ, I hate when people do that...\"\n\nEdited for formatting ", "Luna, Alpaca, ResonatingFury.. My idols would be avenged. \n\nI walked down the street in my gray washed out hoodie. The alleyway was dark and dirty. Screams and cries for help filled the streets. Police sirens blazed all day and night. \n\nThe world had gone to shit ever since Redditors all over the world came together to protest against him. He wasn't the first. Buzzfeed, Cosmos, they all fed off our glory. Our updoots. \n\nNo more. \n\nI looked up to the poster and smiled. It was being shown all around the world. This poster was bringing people together in a way war and famine never could. \n\n------------------\n\nANGRY AT OP? WANT TO JOIN THE MOB? WE'VE GOT YOU COVERED!\n\n#COME ON DOWN TO /r/pitchforkemporium\n\n\nWE GOT 'EM ALL!\n\nTraditional\|Left Handed\|Fancy\n:-:\|:-:\|:-:\n---E\|Ǝ---\|---{\nWE EVEN HAVE DISCOUNTED CLEARANCE FORKS!\n\n33% off!\|66% off!\|Manufacturer's Defect!\n:-:\|:-:\|:-:\n---F\|---L\|---e\n\nNEW IN STOCK. DIRECTLY FROM LIECHTENSTEIN. *EUROPEAN MODELS!\n\nThe Euro\|The Pound\|The Lira\n:-:\|:-:\|:-:\n---€\|---£\|---₤\n\n#HAPPY LYNCHING!\n\n^( some assembly required)\n\n------------\n\nIt felt like a good day to avenge." ]	2
If your up to making the challenge harder, bonus points if sociopath: - is a female. - an adolescent ( could be child to teenager ). - Gets away scot-free.	[WP] Write a likable/lovable yet irredeemable serial killing, sadistic sociopath.	[ "I sigh as I begin my long and arduous walk home. Home, work, home, and work the drag of the eternal cycle. Every so often contemplating the boringness of it all I can't help wishing that something, anything would break it up. \n\nOut of the corner of my eye I see something strange going on in the park. I hesitate, this isn't exactly the safest time of night to go to the park, but isn't this what I wanted? Something strange, exciting, a mystery perhaps the idea is a little too romantic, created from a mind more accumulated with fiction than reality, but I am engrossed enough that I find myself heading for the park rather than home.\n\nAs I approach what looks like a shadow moving a dark limb up and down, I see a sight that will, no doubt, remain with me for the rest of my life. A girl is stabbing down in a large man's chest over and over. The girl cannot be more than 16, a little younger than me. The girl gets up, looks at me with tears in her eyes and says, \"You have to help me, please?\" A touch of desperation edges into her voice, enough to overcome any initial feeling of fear, replacing it with pity.\n\n\"He...he was trying to rape me\" she says, her eyes pleading, \"I swear, I didn't want to kill him, it just...just...!\" Her eyes scream unspeakable horror, horror that can only be heard by the heart.\n\nSuddenly a police siren sounds in the distant. Instinctively I find myself taking her hand into my own. I begin running away, dragging the girl behind me. Nearby there happens to be a church I begin to head in its direction.\n\n\"Why are you saving me? Someone... like me... a murderer...\", she removes her hand from mine looking down tears streaming out of her beautiful eyes.\n\n\"Don't say that\" I snap, \"You can be saved, no one is irredeemable!\" I extend my hand she hesitates but eventually grasps my hand. Her eyes lighten up, as though this is the first time in her life anyone has ever looked out for her. I smile reassuringly and speak again. \"Believe, believe that I will save you if nothing else!\" Something rises in me after that crime scene, something greater than the eternal cycle of my life.\n\nWe reach the church, she enters, seeming more sure of herself now. \"What's your name?\" I smile, trying to help her through this difficult part of her life. \"Killa and you?\" She asks shyly. \"Melody\" I reply happily.\n\n\"You know, I know what it's like to be mentally hurt, I used to be in a pretty abusive relationship, men are scum, but I did find a way to cope.\" I say I reach out my hand again. \"Knives can be tools for healing as well, do you mind?\"\n\nShe hesitates but hands me the knife, giving me a look of trust. I place my knife on her leg and give her a slight cut, she bites her lip. I smile a little deeper, \"I know it may seem crazy but physical pain is kinder than the pain from the psychological hurt, whenever you begin to remember just ask me and I'll make your pain disappear.\"\n\nI spend the next hour giving Killa deeper and deeper cuts each time she begs me a little harder to make the pain disappear. Each time I make the cut a little more painful to allow her to escape. Finally I ask \"Do you want to be saved?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes please save me\" she sobs tears streaming down her face. I finally deliver the final cut directly across her throat. Her body collapses on the altar. I look down on the empty shell that used to be Killa, I think back on the empty shell that used to be me.\n\nI walk back out onto the streets, into a society that's only purpose is to perpetuate the boring and cruel cycles of hatred in this world, where all of the people are pained hopeless individuals. I can grant them something else. Something to stop it all. I am hope. I am salvation.", "Kill, kill them or they'll kill you!\n\nVoices blared in her ear, screaming the suggestion. Taunting, pleading for her to do what cannot be done. She covered her ears and grimaced, squinting her eyes hard. \"Please shut up...\" She whispered. \n\n\"Daisy, are you alright back there?\" her father called from the drivers seat. There were bumps in the road, the sound of water and ice sloshing as tires parted it from the road. Daisy collected herself.\n\n\"I'm fine, Dad.\" She looked out the window at the passing cars, whisking by. Each one seemed to be going so fast as they passed. Whizzing by, like a bee would in the summer. She leaned her head against the window, and closed her eyes.\n\nIn the night, the cool winter air bit at her skin. She was bundled, but only in what scrap she could find. Nothing that belonged to her. She let out quick breaths as she tugged at the little red wagon. Inside, the body of little Albert Watson, her classmate from across town. She threw rocks at his window, and asked him to come outside. Daisy knew he liked her.\n\nCold tears ran down her cheeks as she did it. Faster, faster! Clean it, good! Hide it, hide now hide! The two friends made their way to a small pond, miles away. She checked his watch. They had time. She wiped her face and continued down the wooded path, deep into the woods.\n\nIt didn't take too long to reach the pond. She rolled his body out from the wagon, still wrapped in blankets. Stab wounds covered his face and chest. She unloaded Albert, and followed the instructions she heard. Cut there, and there! YES. Now, take off the arms. Keep going. Stop crying. You're worthless. Keep cutting. Now, separate the parts. Don't forget the teeth. Keep going. Stop crying. STOP. Good.\n\nShe slowly threw the pieces in the water. She was soaked. Crimson waves looked like tie-dye on her white coat. She would remove that last. Once he was gone, she waited. Now, she needed the voices. Only it could help her now. \n\nUse the matches. She slowly started to burn what was left. Her coat, her knife, shoes, the blanket. Once she was out of the bloody cloths, she reluctantly washed herself from the other side of the pond. She cried out as she made contact with the cold water.Shut up. Change. She unloaded her spare clothes from under the wagon, clean and dry. She felt relieved as heat was restored to her limbs. \n\nWash the wagon. She took her little red wagon to the water, and cleaned it of any mess. Go home. She slowly made her way back home, holding back tears so that her face wouldn't get any colder. Back through the same path, into the same window she climbed out of. \n\nThey never learned what happened to Albert. They never would. His parents cried when the search parties came back empty handed. Daisy wanted to cry too. She couldn't. Smile. She smiled. Leave. She walked away. Maybe one day, the voices will stop. Just keep listening. Do what it says. That's the only way.\n\nWhen Daisy returned to her room, she went straight to her closet. As she peeled up a floorboard, she removed a small piece of paper with Albert's name and blood on it, placing it in the pile. It made her sick. She had no more tears." ]	2
	[WP] On the fourth floor of your elementary school there isn't a swimming pool, there isn't a bowling alley, but there's a...	[ "dead body. It's not of any of the students or teachers, it's just... someone. It's been decaying for so long, no one can really tell whether it's male or female. One time, little Josie Sue went on the fourth floor and started dressing up the maggots located in its rib cage with tiny paper dresses. It was actually pretty cute, but she had to be hospitalized for a couple of weeks.\n\nShe doesn't go here anymore.\n\nIn hindsight, building a four-floor elementary school was probably a bad idea, especially considering the fact that we only use one of them. The third floor has a bunch of black candles and dusty books. I checked, though, and none of them are the Necronomicon, so no one really cared.\n\nI think at one point, some goth kid took one of the books and went to the fourth floor trying to resurrect the corpse or whatever. He got eaten by the zombie he inadvertently created, but we managed to stick a bullet in its head.\n\nNo one goes on the fourth floor much anymore.", "I've waited 15 years for this very day. Today, I start my teaching job at my old elementary school. Whenever I told anyone my reasons for coming back they would always laugh and call me crazy, even my closest friends. But today, I'll prove them wrong. Today, I will finally see what's actually on the mythical, \"Fourth Floor\". There had always been rumors circulating about it, I even overheard two 3rd graders talking about earlier. Back when I went here, everyone believed there used to be a swimming pool up there, but after a younger student drowned they decided to close it, and now his ghost haunts the school. My older brother claimed that the teachers slept up there, in strange, coffin like beds. All I know is that there's something there, something that needs to be kept hidden. Now, I would finally be able to solve the mystery for myself. \n\nI stood in front of the tall, ominous door that led to the 4th floor. It was a heavy steel door, something that belonged in a high security prison, not an elementary school. The door made a heavy thud as I unlocked it, and slowly, I pushed it open. \nA gust of cold, heavy air flowed out of the room, followed by the distinct smell of old books. I flicked on the light switch and the florescent lights lit up one by one. \n\nI couldn't believe my own eyes, on the fourth floor there wasn't a swimming pool or coffins, but rows upon rows of file cabinets stacked up to the ceiling. There was only one thing that this could be. On the fourth floor of my elementary school, permanent records were stored. At first I doubted it, there was no way such a place could exist. But after a little searching I had found my name. It had everything in it, there was a write up about the time I had shot chocolate milk out of my nose at my teacher, it had all of my old tests, all of my projects, everything. Everything I had done was carefully recorded and preserved, and locked away for the ages. \n\nDo what you want with this information, you can choose to believe it or not to, I honestly don't know If I believe it myself. I don't know if there's something like this at every school, but I do know there is something. The secret basement, the hidden door, the fourth floor. Every school has its legends, its up to you to find the truth. " ]	2
Inspired by watching The Butterfly Effect last night! Happy V Day all.	[WP] Single and lonely on the 13th of February, you wake up on Valentine's in another place beside someone who claims to love you, with years of memories.	[ "I open my eyes without realising I have. The colourless room is bathed in a soft white light. I don’t remember waking up; just curling up towards the left of my bed being awake, and asleep at some point before that. I don’t recall a dream. I must have slept peacefully.\n\nThe blinds permute the cold light as it passes through the window. Condensation clings to the inside of the large pane. Why are they open? Now I’m up early. I grab the notepad next to the bed and jot down: ‘close blinds’. Just above today’s script, I notice the date of yesterday’s paper-based thoughts. 13th February. \n\n“Happy Valentine’s Day,” an alien voice says, with an air of confident familiarity. “I’m glad you’re here”.\n\nI’m startled. The woman who owns the voice half-smiles warmly at me from the right hand side of my bed. Snowflakes melt into the fake fur trim of her coat’s hood as it lies cast across the back of the chair. In her lap is a small box, wrapped in red tissue paper. One side of the paper, like the coat, has evidently also been outside in the snow. \n\n“Who let you in?” I say. “And who are you?”\n\nShe affirms the smile on her face; but whilst the deliberateness of her smile is clearer, it’s intensity wanes. “Who are you?” I ask again.\n\n“Sarah?” She seems to ask. “I’m Sarah. Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.” She changes the subject, “it’s really coming down outside this morning. Much colder than yesterday. I’ll have to make sure you’re wrapped up if we go for a walk today.”\n\nI shift my gaze left, to the window, and nod. I look back at her, seemingly with a look of some skepticism, since the voice says, “Sarah,” for a third time, as if desperate to convince me it’s the truth. She continues to smile sheepishly. This woman is a liar, perhaps even unhinged or on something.\n\n“Excuse me? I’m not married. You’re in my house,” I say, as she shoots confused, interrogating looks around the room, “and I want you to explain why.” The confident, almost forceful, smile returns, and she opens her mouth as if about to speak - probably to say ‘Sarah’ again. She stops, thinks for a moment, smiles briefly once more before exhaling, and looking wistfully into my eyes.\n\n“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she says, “you mustn’t be feeling well today. I’ll call on my way home from work to see if you’re feeling better.” With that, she scoops up her coat and heads briskly for the door. Before she reaches the threshold, my sense of unease subsides.\n\nThe sound of the wind picking up outside seizes my attention, and as I turn to look, the notepad passes through my line of sight. I shuffle over to the window, and survey the stark urban landscape, draped in half a foot or so of soft, white snow. I return the tilt wand to its vertical position, leaving the blinds open, and turn back to bed.\n\n—\n\nThe red tissue paper makes a light rustling noise as Sarah’s arms oscillate back and forth, with wet tears forming where snow fell on the way from the car. Crossing the reception area towards the exit, Sarah’s gaze is met by the sanguine face of the doctor. She shakes her head ruefully.\n\nBefore starting the car, she instigates a conciliatory smile and runs her finger around the frame of the faded photograph in her hands, before setting it atop the tissue paper on the passenger seat, and turns the key.", "The rose light began to set fire to my eyelids that were sealed shut by the reluctance to acknowledged that the sweet peace of night had faded. I lifted the covers and trumpeted a loud fart that announced to the walls that I was a bachelor. I sighed into my pillow like a grieving widow, as I stretched my fingers as far away from my toes as possible. I rolled over. One arm hung off the edge of the bed as a deep breath in prepared me for my big move onto my feet. Thoughts of Cocoa Puffs buoying in almond milk danced in my mind as it granted me enough motivation to rise. The door creaked. I'm sure that my \"fight or flight\" should have kicked in, but my reality was still augmented by sleepy confusion. The smell hit me before the sound of her voice.\n\n\"Good morning BooBear! Happy V-day!\" a tender voice said as the clink of ceramic plates hit my nightstand. \n\nBefore I could answer I was met with conflicting feelings of wonder and elation as what was essentially a beefed-up Denny's Grand Slam was laid out before me.\n\n\"What the?...\" I uttered, in that base tone that only early morning men have. \n\n\"What? Did I wear you out last night?...\" in a sultry Southern English accent, she drew closer, \"Just wait until you see what I have planned for you tonight\" she said in an intense whisper that fell warm against my ear. I shuddered. The good kind of shudder. \n\nShe then kissed me with the intensity of a grateful survivor. Her eyes were closed, my eyes were wide. My near-sightedness had left me with only polygonal shapes of this woman until now. She was hot, no not \"hot\" she was the rare sort of beautiful that I had dreamed of meeting at Starbucks one day. The energy in my body and mind from her touch was like the moments before a pot of water begin to boil. \n\"Wait...wha?\" my resistance was weak this time. \n\n\"Hurry and eat, we're going to be late for the match!\" she said exiting the door in what I assume was some incredibly sexy negligee. \n\n\"match\", she said MATCH, as in a Premier League match?! Where was I? I opened the blinds to reveal the rooftops of rustic urbania with narrow streets. The goofy road signs were a dead giveaway, I was in England, London I was sure of it. \n\"I told you to hurry!\" she exclaimed as she stepped back into the room, this time wearing different clothes. Those clothes...it was a Tottenham kit! My heart raced. I had so many questions, but my mouth wasn't willing to ruin what was happening. She laid a pristine Harry Kane kit on the bed, along with a canton that read \"Bless you boys.\" \n\nAM I DEAD?\n\nWe exited a quaint loft and stepped out into the streets. Everyone looked at me in a way as if they would tip their hat if they were wearing one. I felt like a Nobel prize winner with no knowledge of my work. The match was electric. Tottenham won 4-nil and every goal was met with ecstasy and this beautiful woman hugging and kissing me.\n\nWe stumbled back into the loft. There was a warm familiarity to it now, rushing back to me like a waking limb. She pushed me onto the bed. I sat up on my elbows silently like a virgin who had lied about his sexual experience. She smiled slyly, as she began to lift her shirt. She revealed a midriff with tone and hip lines that resembled an instagram fitness model. The shirt hung up on two works of art that I suppose you could call boobs. The reveal was like the first fireworks of July 4th. I felt the anxiousness of ten-year-old me waiting for a dirty picture to load off of dial up internet. \n\nShe unzipped my pants.\n\nThen my alarm went off.\n\nDamnit.", "It starts with morning pecks and smiles and escalates when she pulls her shirt off and reaches down. Some time later, she whispers I love you during the mutual end of the moment. Then she slips out of bed and heads to the shower, humming a song I don't know. \n\nI think I recognize the language she used to deliver the niceties, so I open my mouth and say in a voice loud enough to carry into the shower: Would you like coffee? I was right: Hindi. The response is swift: Yes, my love! I take a good look at my hands and at my feet. I know that I know my body well, but it's always wise to examine thoroughly the first morning and reacquaint the mind with any ancient marks. Ah. A scar on my left shin. Images flood my memory. Basic training. The Infantry School. Davu had lost it. I knew him somewhat, but not enough to understand why he'd attack me while I was brushing my teeth, much less predict it. We ended up on the floor. He was armed with a knife. He'd later be institutionalized. Others would later say things like I always knew that... but no one ever does, or everyone thinks it about everybody. \n\nAlright, now it's time to test results for my supervisor. I stretch my extremities inward and outward. Everything works. I conjure up a memory from last week. Last month. Last year. I can't record any of the information I'm currently retrieving through this body, but it's supposed to be transferring to the department via satellite, they tell me. I remember something happy. Something sad. I think up current conflict. \n\nOh. She's cheating on me. I found out weeks ago but let it go. She's always been too good for me and I don't want to rock that boat. Poor sucker. I often consider suicide. They'll love this information. This isn't my first depressed vehicle, but it's my first in Indochina. \n\nI stand up and stretch my limbs. \n\nIn the kitchen, I poor our cups and I.. I reach for a drawer and pull from its dark inner edge a small bottle. And I pour a few drops of the bottle's contents into her coffee. I've been doing this for days. Oh.\n\nShe's soon beside me, laughing and telling me some story about last week. I laugh, too, and relish the speed with which she's downing that stuff. By my past calculation, she will die in a few days. It will come to her quickly. It'll be very, very painful.\n\nThose bastards at the department always know the best time to send me away. I mean, it's not like I was going to spend this Valentine's Day with anyone, but I was planning to see Josey at some point. Her rates are decent and she's usually not booked.\n\nLet's go back to bed, honey. No reason to start our day just yet, this beautiful woman says to me, eyes half shut though brimming with deceit.\n\nEver made love to a woman you don't know but have have known for years, a woman you couldn't care less about and one whose improprieties have led you to murder? Here's my suggestion: Don't get into the business of traveling through humans. \n\nYes, alright, I respond. \n\nLet's get this over with.\n" ]	3
	[WP] write a story about the worst superhero ever	[ "Jim’s power of persuasion has increased dramatically since the incident. Any one thing Jim desires to happen simply needs to be presented to whoever can help with the task. That one person cannot turn down any request. The power to end dictatorships, if only Jim had those priorities.\n\n \nJust last week a gang of robbers hit Jim's local bank. They eventually handed Jim the money because of his new found power. Thing is, Jim decided to keep the money. Told the cops it'd be better used if he donated it to a charity rather than return it to the bank. Several strippers earned enough money to pay their through college later that night. \n\n\n“Jim, wake up” \n\n\nJim was startled from his nap. His live in girlfriend, Shania Twain, is watching the news. “The President is going to enact another one of your suggested laws” she says. \n\n\n“Today, President Remis signed an executive order forcing all businesses to build adult playgrounds where employees would be entitled to a one-hour recess per work day. Also required are actual lava pits that can be utilized to determine who is best fit for a raise.” \n\n\n“You’re such a child” Shania snapped. \n\n\n“Baby, this will increase workplace productivity. You just have to give it time.” \n\n\n“I highly doubt that” Shania stated as she rolled her eyes. “Also, thanks again for telling me to focus solely on gangster rap. I truly feel like this genre is my actual calling in life. I’m going to need you to listen to my latest song to let me know if it’s ready for release” \n\n\nSometimes Jim regrets his actions. “Sure, just let me run to the gas station real quick since I’m up. I’m out of cigarettes.” \n\n\nStreet lights turn on above Jim's head. It’s cold out but walks always seem to help Jim clear his head. Crime is rare in his neighborhood. Apartments fill each side of the rode ten stories high. Built only a few years ago, the price alone keeps most tenants out. Palm trees line the sidewalk with clean cut grass below them. Jim walks a few blocks outside of the residential gate to the local QuickFill. Forgetting his wallet, he persuades the bum outside of the gas station to give him enough money for a pack of Marlboros. \n\n\n“You could have just persuaded me to give you the cigarettes” exclaimed the gas station attendee. \n\n \n“Well sure, but I need to keep you guys open, seeing as how you’re the closest beer seller to my neighborhood. But seeing as how you’re right, you’re going to let me have this 24 ounce can of fizz”. Jim cracks open the can and begins his walk back home. “Another hard day work”. \n", "Im walking down the street when suddenly I hear a scream. \n\"HELP IM GOING TO FALL!!!\" The girl screams hanging on to the side of a sky scraper. \nI start to grow jets and fly to her. \n\"Please help me.\" She pleads crying. \nI pick her up and am gently going back to the ground when I see a spider. \n\"OH MY CHEESE FROOTLOOPS I HAD A CAT ONCE LOOOAHDIDNSKS!\" I scream as I drop the woman and she hurtles to the street hitting the ground with a big thud cousing her blood to splatter and head to crack open. \n\"Oops...\" I say as a just float backwards silently as the police and firefighters give me annoyed and angry looks. ", "January 8th, 2014 \n\nI’m one week into my shadowing of Miranda Hastings, the woman otherwise known as “The Jacket.” She is the masked vigilante that has been making frequent appearances of late. She’s permitted me to follow her in order for me to analyze her process and maximize her efficiency as a crime fighter. I accepted the offer wholeheartedly one week ago, not realizing that, in truth, Miranda has no efficiency that could theoretically be maximized. 0 x 100 = 0. \n\nThe first issue is that her moniker commands no respect. When asked why she chose the name “The Jacket,” Miss Hastings responded, “I was looking at the back of my closet door.” She refuses to change it. \n\nThe second issue is that of her abilities. She insists that her abilities are “subtle” and “not easily visible” and “definitely real.” I have a hard time identifying any of them, despite near-constant surveillance of Miss Hastings. If anything, I would say her dominant ability, if one exists, is poor timing. \n\nHer attire is an issue. I have explained to her that Crocs are not optimal running shoes, only to be countered every single time with the fact that they are waterproof. We live in a landlocked city with no significant water features and only a few inches of rainfall per year. Her leggings, while good for stretching and running, offer so special protection to an altogether vulnerable figure. Her mask is a cheap dollar store sequined number. She wears no other headgear or protective equipment of any kind. Not even a fucking jacket. \n\nI could go on. Imagine an aspect of a successful superhero, and Miss Hastings has the worst possible incarnation of it. She has no funding, no ability, no skills, no humility, and no brain. It’s a wonder she’s not dead yet, as I have tried to restrain myself from intervening in her “battles” until the point where she loses consciousness at least. I suspect the “villains” she “fights” let her live out of pity. It’s truly a miraculous thing. Perhaps that is her “superpower”—her ability to elicit the human emotions of pity and embarrassment from even the lowest of men. I know I myself have no intention of ending my little internship with her, despite the knowledge there is nothing I can do to help her. She is a human car crash you can’t look away from. \n\nIn any case, I will keep updating this record of her. As I write this she is on my couch nursing a broken foot and complaining about The Real Housewives of Atlanta while we wait for my discreet contact to arrive and attend to it. It’s as if she wasn’t almost shot in the head less than an hour ago; you would not know it from looking at her. \n\nShe is certainly the worst superhero—if she even qualifies for the term, which I would argue she does not—that I have ever worked with, personally, and most likely the worst on the continent or planet. But she is fascinating in her failure. I guess that’s worth something. \n\nSigned, Dr. Steads", "\"Bob, I'm standing right outside the amphitheater in which the machine is now being prepared. We are only moments away from the execution of Platyman, and the people around me could not be any more riled up. They are demanding reparations for the horrible crimes that he so flippantly committed. This is trul-- Oh, there he is!\" she yelled, excitedly gesticulating in the direction of a group of security guards who were wheeling a shrouded figure, laden with chains and shackles, into the amphitheater. \"Let's take a look at this iconic moment in history.\" She quickly waddled through the gaping mouth of the amphitheater as fast as her ambitiously high heels would let her, the camera crew rushing behind. I sat in my room, watching on the TV as my brother took the fall for me.\n\nI was only trying to help. I did not ask to be bitten by the radioactive platypus. When trouble was near, I could sense it. This urge would take over and I would have no choice but to run toward whatever criminal activity was near. But, when I would get there, a horrible transformation would occur... I would arrive at the scene and then painfully morph into a pathetic platypus, flipping and flopping at the criminals' feet. Anyone who witnessed this was changed as well. Anytime I would transform, it would result in a field of convulsing platypuses. It was horrible. Hours later, I would slowly change back, but I was always in the middle of an ocean of moist,permanent, platypuses.\n\nNow I watched as they wheeled the duck-billed monstrosity toward the decapitation machine. Little did they know, they had the wrong platypus." ]	4
	[WP] You meet a person with no shadow.	[ "Death of Silhouette\n\n~\n\nYou never seem to react\n\nto my worried whispers,\n\nnor my anguish,\n\nmy fears.\n\n~\n\nAnd I cannot help but feel\n\nyou do not know I exist.\n\nMy words always fall\n\non the deafest of ears.\n\n~\n\nOh, but how I love you.\n\nYour actions,\n\nI cannot help\n\nbut mimic.\n\n~\n\nI love to dance\n\nwith your footsteps\n\non the golden sidewalks\n\nof summer sunsets.\n\n~\n\nMy great, vibrant twin,\n\nhow I long for you\n\nto finally hear\n\nmy cries.\n\n~\n\nAlas, when your end draws near,\n\nI drop this darkened, ethereal form.\n\nMy love, my leader, let me be your decoy.\n\nMy life has always been my gift to you.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nI hope this is acceptable. I know I didn't exactly follow the prompt.", "James squinted at the unusual man that stood before him. The stranger's clothes were covered in dust and grime; for a second James had worried that he had run into a greyback. \"What regiment are you?\" he said.\n\nThe stranger didn't look up from the ground; with a somber voice, he spoke: \"The 23rd Massachusetts.\" \n\nJames swallowed. He had heard from his commander that the 23rd didn't fare too well back at Cold Harbor. \"Not much of you survived, I reckon.\"\n\nThe man shuffled his feet. \"No sir.\" \n\nJames had been on scout duty, which meant that it was his responsibility to find and aid any straggling soldiers in need. \"Do you need me to take you back to your camp?\" He said, reluctantly.\n\nThe man didn't vocalize. He nodded his head briskly, his eyes still fixated on the ground.\n\nWhat the Hell is wrong with this guy? James thought. \"Well, lead the way, then,\" he said. \n\nWithout warning, the man started off toward the hills in the east; James found it hard to keep up. It wasn't until the summer shower had passed, and the clouds cleared away, that James noticed the most peculiar aspect of this shell-shocked man: he had no shadow. It certainly wasn't noon; in fact, the evening was approaching--the time men wore the longest shadows. \n\nAfter a good 15 minutes of walking, James and his companion happened upon a quite bloody scene on the other end of a grassy hill. \"Dear Christ. . . \" he muttered. He wanted to look away, but the strange man kept walking, until he reached a rather mangled corpse near a pocket of trees at the other end of the fresh battlefield. He leaned down and beckoned for James. \"Here,\" he said.\n\nJames, rather reluctantly, walked over to the corpse. The body was badly beaten, and the face was bloody, but. . . \n\n\"Hey,\" he said. \"That looks like you!\"\n\nThe stranger didn't respond. He stared down at his mangled corpse on the ground. Tears started forming in his eyes. \n\nJames stepped back. \"You're a spirit, ain't you? I knew something was fishy about you, on account of no shadow!\"\n\nThe stranger kneeled to the ground and pointed at a silver locket around the lifeless corpse's neck. \"Take it. . . \" he said, each word becoming harder and harder to enunciate.\n\nJames complied, reaching down and unwrapping the chains from the blood-soaked skin. He held it up against the sunlight. \"Is this some sort of heirloom, or something?\" He turned to look back at the stranger, but he had disappeared. All that remained was the corpse at his feet. \n\nHuh. He pocketed the locket and made his way back towards camp. " ]	2
Super villains are very common now, and you just killed somebody that broke into your house, will you be a super hero?	[wp] In order to obtain your super power, you must kill someone.	[ "Blood on my hands. Not mine. I look at the body on the floor, and I'm ashamed that the first thought that pops into my head is not one of terror, nor guilt, nor disgust. It was excitement, but it was also more than that. I felt fulfilled. A grin spread across my face as crimson seeped across the floor.\nBut then, doubt. Nothing had changed. I was still me. Plain, old, boring me. Frustration. Anger. I felt betrayed. I wanted to scream. Are you telling me after this, after all this, that I'd just have to go back to where I was before? And worse, I had murdered a man with nothing to show for it. \n\nAAAARGH! I threw my fist into the wall...and the wall collapsed in upon itself. It took me a moment to comprehend what had just happened. Everything clicked. I had been dreaming of this my whole life. I had to put a man in the ground to rise above him, but now no one can bring me down. It's my show now.", "I stood over the body that was bleeding onto my carpet. Was he dead? He came into my house demanding money when I pulled out my gun and shot him. I was so scared and I didn't know where I shot him at. I didn't want him to be dead because I knew the consequences. I would get superpowers and I didn't want that because I wanted a normal life and normal abilities. \n\n\"Please don't be dead sir!\" I pushed my disgusted feelings to the side and flipped him so he was lying on his back. I had shot him in the chest. He wasn't breathing. Crap.\n\nI threw the body out and told the cops but all they said was that I would get my punishment soon enough. I had gotten no sleep for the next few days. The same question was eating away at me: am I going to get superpowers? Three days had passed and I got my answer.\n\nI woke up early getting ready to go back to work, sure I was free of the curse that could have been bestowed upon me. When I got there, I got plenty of stares and whispers but I made my way to my cubicle. every once in a while people would walk past and just whisper to each other. That's when I thought about really needing doors. I turned back to my work and when I heard my boss shouting, I looked back to see what all the ruckus was about and I turned to see a door on my cubicle..." ]	2
	[WP] Tell me the story of the saddest reunion.	[ "There are a lot of holes in the ceiling tiles. Counting them is stupid. But maybe count the sides and multiply.\n\nDeep breath. I'm groggy and I'm counting holes in a ceiling tile. I'm waking up, and I must be in a hospital. I don't remember what I was just doing before this. I don't really remember the last thing I remember. I don't remember any trauma.\n\n\"Hello?\" \n\nI heard that, I think. So my voice works. That means I'm not intubated. Can you talk with a tracheatomy? I don't remember. Plug it with your finger? Something like that?\n\nI feel like trying to move; but I'm a little afraid to. Deep breath. Whatever happened, I'm alive. I'm breathing and talking. It's all confusing, but I'm me, I think. I'm so tired.\n\nHa. Movement left, as somebody I know would say. Not sure who, but I don't think I've lost the memories completely.\n\nMarisol. Lovely Marisol. Such relief. All will be okay. Marisol is with me.\n\n\"Hey you.\"\n\nThat sounded croaky.\n\n\"I don't know. I'm really tired. It's so good to see your face. I'm glad I'm waking up to you. I love you so much.\"\n\nYour face is tired, strained, querida. You've been here for some time. You're smiling, but there's something there, some experience.\n\n\"Have I woken up before?\" Of course. I want you to feel okay, lover. The worry in your face affects me. \n\n\"Whose face did I wake up to last time?\" I love you, Marisol. I'm lame, but I want you to smile.\n\n\"That's good. I should spread this around, yeah?\"\n\n\"It'll be okay, Baby. As long as I keep waking up. Right?\" So tired. All this talk of waking. So tired.\n\n\"I love you, Baby. I'm going to close my eyes again. I love you.\"", "He walked into the room, like he'd done every day for over 15 years. This time though, was the first time he'd do it this way. Normally, he'd take off his jacket and place it on the mahogany coat rack and place his hat above it. The room would have a glow as the sun sparkled off the chandelier hanging for centuries in the center of the room. He'd slowly walk over to the bar, and pour his favorite drink. The kind of drink that would take the edge off of a tough day at work. But not today, instead the room was dark and gloomy. Damp, from a leak in the ceiling where the chandelier once hung, but now lays in the puddle of water. \"So many memories\" he says to himself \"a time before...\" His words are cut off, a loud bang in the back of the apartment.\n\nQuickly he shuffles for the nearest cover. No one can know he's there. His heart pumps as he grasps for the hilt of his gun. \"No. There's no one here, there hasn't been in years.\" A figure slides into the room, but he can't make out the face from this distance. He waits as they approach his location behind the sofa. The sofa.. He recalls a time when his wife helped him pick it out, but really it was all her decision and he never stood a chance on having input on the matter. He trusted her judgement in things like that. The sound of broken glass snaps him back from his recalled dreams. He figured the person coming toward him knew he was there and it was time to jump into action, the way he had done so many times before.\n\nIt had been a while since he last had to pull his gun on someone, but this time felt odd. In his own home this time, felt like he was betraying his past. He stood and faced his silent enemy. \"All this time, and you've still been here. It's time I closed this part of my life and moved on!\" He pulled the trigger. The bullet went right between the eyes, and the smack of her head hitting the floor was the same sound his heart made when she slammed the door shut so many years ago. He knew it was his fault she left and never once blamed her. But in the years since then and all the experiences he'd been though, he never believed his reunion with his wife would be of him killing her reanimated corpse. The only other person he regretted having to kill.. Besides his own daughter. It was, after all, the reason she left.", "I walked into the bar, the place we'd all said we'd come back to, and took my usual seat at the table. \n\nI looked around, at all the empty seats, people who weren't there. \n\nTom, who'd died suddenly of a heart attack.\n\nAndrew, killed by a drunk driver.\n\nJohn, plane crash.\n\nSophie, suicide after John's death.\n\nI ticked names down one, by one, before arriving at my own.\n\nI was alone.", "Today was October 10th, and though Father McCoy usually visited his sick and elderly parishioners on Tuesdays, he knew from nearly twenty years of October tenths that he had to be in the chapel at eleven a.m. He set out fresh votive candles when he arrived, then inspected the confessional to ensure Manuel had vacuumed them last night. Finally, he set out two fading hymnals with a good amount of space between them. He knew they liked to sit beside the stained-glass window depicting the children coming to Jesus. In the top corner there was a spider on its web slowly, methodically wrapping the carcass of a housefly for later consumption. Fr. McCoy tried to reach it with the extendable duster but, even after standing on the pew and stretching as far as he could, it remained just out of reach. \"Shame,\" he said.\n\nThe old gentleman was the first to arrive. He appeared even more bent than usual; perhaps his health was fading. He walked with an old wooden cane, stained and stripped by years of use around the handle. He lit a votive candle, crossed himself, then slowly shuffled up the aisle, crossing himself once again before making his way to the pew below the window. It took him a moment, but he managed to lower himself into genuflection, clamping his hands tightly and shutting his eyes.\n\nWhere the gentleman was always ten minutes early, the older lady was always ten minutes late. She was a bit more spry, being perhaps seven or eight years younger than the gentleman. She lit her own votive candle, pausing to watch the flickering flames for a moment before crossing herself quickly. She hurried down the aisle, crossing herself just as quickly and taking a distant kneel beside the gentleman.\n\nFr. McCoy quietly opened his side of the confessional and shut himself in. He knew almost exactly how thus would go; it rarely changed from year to year. As he'd expected, the lady was first, having completed her prayers within minutes.\n\n\"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. It has been one year since my last confession. I have been intimate twice with men who are not my... my lawful husband. I have not attended services in a year, I have... I have neglected my Catholic faith and become distant from God. I... I have been unable to forgive my husband, even after all these years. I am sorry for these and all the sins of my past life.\"\n\nFr. McCoy paused for a moment, then cracked opened the door to his confessional. Peering out, he could see the older gentleman struggling to rise to his feet. He shut the door once more.\n\n\"...Are you there, Father?\" she asked through the screen.\n\n\"I am, my child.\" He paused for a moment to consider his next words. \"You have been coming here since before I became a priest,\" he said as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. \"And every year I assign you prayers of atonement and Hail Marys and every other word and prayer I know. I've read you scriptures and recited parables.\" He sighed, long and sad and woeful. \"How much longer do you think your husband has? Honestly.\" She was quiet for a long moment.\n\n\"Not long. He's gotten worse since last year. I... I don't know if he'll be here next year.\" Fr. McCoy nodded quietly; he'd come to the same conclusion himself.\n\n\"I could-- once again-- recite scriptures about forgiveness and how holding on to anger causes damage to one's soul. But I'd rather not, honestly.\"\n\n\"Wh... What do you mean, Father?\"\n\n\"It strikes me that I've failed you, both of you. I've been going through the motions not realising...\" he paused for a moment, piecing together words in his mind. \"Not realising that i this instance that the motions weren't enough. When someone gives confession, our job is to provide them guidance, not a path to salvation, but the means to forge that path themselves. And I see now that you need guidance that I can't provide, only that you can.\n\n\"Tell me, when was the last time you spoke to your husband?\"\n\n\"Not since... Not since Natalie's funeral.\"\n\n\"Nearly fifty years.\"\n\n\"Forty-seven years come Sunday, yes, Father.\"\n\n\"And today is forty-seven years since her death. How old would she be today?\"\n\n\"She would be fifty-one.\" Fr. McCoy could hear the change in her voice. She was crying.\n\n\"For forty-seven years you've come here, at exactly the same time, rain or shine, just as your husband has. Why come when you know he will be here? Why not come an hour later? Or in the afternoon?\"\n\n\"Natalie's funeral was at eleven, Father.\"\n\n\"But today isn't the day of her funeral, is it? Today is the day she died.\" She was silent, seemingly unable to answer him, so he asked once more, \"why do you come here now?\"\n\n\"Because... because I know he'll be here. Because I want him to know that I haven't forgiven him. That I never will.\" Fr. McCoy stopped for a moment, surprised at her answer, her real confession.\n\n\"And why not? Was he a bad father?\" Fr. McCoy realised that he really didn't know much about this couple, besides what Fr. Fitzgerald had told him all those years ago.\n\n\"He was...\" she stopped herself. \"He never lost his temper or hit her, he taught her to read, how to pray....\"\n\n\"But?\"\n\n\"But... he was a busy man, consumed by his job. He would ignore her so he could get his work done. He... he wasn't paying attention that day, and he didn't notice that she'd gotten into the swimming pool....\" Fr. McCoy took a deep breath.\n\n\"But he loved her, right? And she loved him?\"\n\n\"Of course, Father. They loved each other very much.\"\n\n\"That window you sit beside; tell me about it.\"\n\n\"We paid for it after Natalie's death. We wanted to remember her in some way, so we could still see her, or at least remember her. When Christ calls for the children to come to him, that was her favourite story from the Bible.\"\n\n\"The little girl on Christ's knee; is that Natalie?\" She sobbed quietly, a heartwrenching, pitiful gasp.\n\n\"Yes, Father.\"\n\n\"My child, I don't have wise words or scriptures for you, nor do I have prayers for you to recite. I only ask that you look to Christ for His guidance, and give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.\"\n\n\"For His mercy endures forever.\" She sat silently, crying in the dark.\n\n\"I won't tell you to forgive him,\" he said quietly. \"But I can only tell you that we are limited in our time on Earth. It is not good to hold on to anger, and you may not have another chance. Think on it, consider the message of salvation.\"\n\nHe heard her stand up and leave the confessional. Despite himself, he opened the door and watched as she took her usual seat beside her husband. She stared intently at the window, not saying a word as the gentleman slowly made his way toward the confessional.\n\nf the confessional and shut himself in. He knew almost exactly how thus would go; it rarely changed from year to year. As he'd expected, the lady was first, having completed her prayers within minutes.\n\n\"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. It has been two days since my last confession. I have not been a good husband to my wife; I have been faithful but have yet to speak with her. I still find it... difficult to move towards God and salvation. Iam sorry for these and all the sins of my past life.\"\n\n\"My son,\" Fr. McCoy asked quietly, \"I sense that you are afraid. Are you well?\" The gentleman hesitated, struck by the deviation from ritual.\n\n\"No, Father. I fear that I may die soon. I feel tired, and I know that I am ill.\"\n\n\"Is it salvation you worry about?\"\n\n\"No-- well, yes, Father... but I also fear....\" he paused for a moment. \"Natalie had no brothers or sisters. Our family members have all passed. Only my wife and I remember her. I fear that when I die, when my wife passes, there will be no one left who knew her. All that will be left of her is a grave and a plaque on a window in the chapel.\"\n\n\"Have you asked your wife for forgiveness?\"\n\n\"Just once. At the funeral so many years ago. She... She hasn't spoken to me since.\"\n\n\"And you need to have her forgiveness? For your salvation?\" Fr. McCoy paused for a moment, thinking. \"Or so that you can forguve yourself?\" The gentleman didn't reply, he just sat in silence. \"You haven't forgiven yourself for her death, and perhaps you never will. I could tell you about God's plan and how tragedies happen, all of that. I'm sure you've heard it before.\"\n\n\"How could I forgive myself for letting her die?\"\n\n\"It's not your job to provide forgiveness, it's the Lord's. Have you ever asked Him for His forgiveness? Perhaps it's time to ask. Ask the Lord, and ask your wife. Give thanks to the Lord for He is good.\"\n\n\"For... For His mercy endures forever.\"\n\nThe gentleman made his way back to his seat, where his wife remained, staring at the window above them. And as he sat next to her, his eyes fixed on her, she stood without saying a word, crossed herself once more, and left the church. Fr. McCoy stood next to the gentleman, placing his hand on his shoulder as he wept quietly. Then, slowly and painfully, he stood and turned to leave. In the corner of the window, the spider was moving in slow circles, expanding his web with precision.", "There he was. \nOh my god. \n \n\"Coop! Cooper!\" I clapped my hands twice and knelt down. \n \nThe dog jumped and yelped, pulling hard against his collar. He was bigger than the last time I'd seen him. Better fed and healthier. \n \nThe man holding the leash yanked him back, nearly dropping his cell phone. \"Hold on Elsi-- Easy, Rodger. Hey!\" He laid a firm smack across his back. \n \n\"Rodger\" took the hit without a flinch. He barked and tried to run to me again. \n \nThis time the man came with him, staggering but keeping his feet. \"Calm down, you dumb bastard!\" \n \nI was already in tears and, if dogs could cry, I'm sure Cooper would have been too. He jumped against my body, yelping and licking desperately at my face. \n \n\"I've missed you too, buddy. I've missed you so much.\" \n \n\"I think my dog likes you,\" the man said. \n \nI was too preoccupied to respond to the man. Preoccupied with past memories. Running Cooper down the beach... Searching the PetSmart dumpster for expired dog food... Holding him close when the air felt cold and the world felt colder. \n \n\"Giving you up was the saddest day of my life,\" I whispered, remembering how I'd sobbed at the Humane Society. Sadder than losing my apartment. Sadder than losing my job. Sadder, even, than losing my parents. I hadn't had a choice in any of those things. \n\nI was preoccupied with the present moment. With Cooper's nose against my cheek... His paws scratching at my legs... His warm body close and trying frantically to be closer. \n \n\"Let's go, Rodger.\" The man tugged him off of me and tossed a crumpled bill at my feet. \n\nI was preoccupied with future fears of the man behind the leash leading him away... Of him being called \"Rodger\" for the rest of his life... Of this moment becoming distant and growing more distant... \n \n\"You be good to him!\" I shouted, pleading. \n \nCooper walked forward but looked back, both of us trying to extend our reunion for as long as possible. \n \n\"Hey!\" I shouted after the man. \"Would you bring him by here again sometime?\" \n \nBut the man was too preoccupied to respond.", "There is something breathtaking in the way that they meet, the way that her lips part silently into the ghost of his name, the way that hazel meets blue in their gaze. \n\nAnd yet, everything is just so boring. After all, they are just another couple reuniting, just another sorry tale in the hurricane of catastrophes that the war has ushered in.\n\nSusie down the street, she knows, has lost her husband. Susie receives a letter of apology from the government, and that's all the compensation she gets: a generic letter sent to the families of every deceased soldier, a letter that cannot feed hungry mouths nor fill up the cold, empty hole that is the other side of the bed. \n\nMarie's fiancee is crippled, hobbling on just one leg. Becca's husband is as well. Penny loves a man doomed to never be able to see his newlyborn's face.\n\nBut she, she is a lucky one, with her arms wrapped tightly around a man who is still living, still breathing; her ear is pressed against a heart that is thumping rapidly in its cage of bone. He whispers sweet nothings into her ear, and it takes a few moments (one, two, three) for her to recognize this as reality.\n\n\"You okay?\" she asks, carefully, fearfully; as if any second now he would be snatched away from her arms again.\n\n\"Yes,\" he agrees, lying, and tries for a smile. It comes out a little half-heartedly, no, not even: perhaps quarter-heartedly, or even eighth-heartedly. His eyes do not crinkle like they did before, but instead seem weighed down. There is a lifetime of sorrow and suffering in them, and it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth that he has already lost so many lifetimes just after theirs barely began.\n\nBut home will never be quite the same, and she knows it. She won't have a void of longing next to her when she awakes in the morning, but sometimes she'll find him wide-eyed with fear, yelling to a man she knows is dead, about an enemy that is not there. He'll bite his lip, a habit she once found adorable, until blood runs like tears down his chin, and tears run like blood down his cheeks. \n\nHe'll no longer be able to hunt: not many of the men will, not when their hands begin to tremble like leaves caught in a thunderstorm (how apt, she'll think: the hurricane metaphor had been hers) every time they pick up a gun. \n\nThere will be a gap between them that will stay there for the lifetime they finally get to spend together. The gouges that war leaves will be too high for the ladders of love to breach, and she will spend many nights lying awake as he cries, shedding her own tears and wondering why her love played out on such an ugly stage.\n\nAll this, she knows, even as he draws her in for the first kiss in so long. All this, she knows, is going through the minds of all the other survivors. \n\nAll this, she accepts, knowing that this is the only way left for her. She feels her heart clench painfully in her chest, once, twice, before smiling back at him and resting her forehead on his.\n\n\"Welcome home,\" she whispers, and silently, she acquiesces. Her tears of sorrow meld in with her tears of joy.\n\n", "\"Jane, is that you?\"\n\n\"Tom! So nice to see you\"\n\n\"I didn't expect to see you here...\"\n\n\"Well, Martha and I had gotten closer over the years. She really helped me through it.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I'm glad you had her. Sorry, but I know I should hav-\"\n\n\"Tom. Stop. It's all been said. No need to go through it again. Once was enough.\"\n\n\"Thanks. Still, sad to see her go. Sadder still that I now know what she meant to you.\"\n\n\"Martha was 85, she had her time. Plenty of it. Are you still seeing Chelsea?\"\n\n\"No. That ended a few months ago. She wanted me to be entirely hers, but...\"\n\n\"I know\"\n\n\"And you, you still with Greg?\"\n\n\"Yeah. It's low key though. He has his own baggage, and I my own. We enjoy each others company mostly.\"\n\n\"I never got there. I don't think I could.\"\n\n\"Don't get me wrong, it'll never be like what we had.\"\n\n\"Nothing will ever be what we had.\"\n\n\"Don't snap Tom, you know what I meant...\"\n\n\"I know, sorry. It's so still so hard for me.\"\n\n\"It's not easy for me, I guess I'm coping differently.\"\n\n\"I miss her so much...\"\n\n\"Me too, every day.\"\n\n\"She was taken so soon...\"\n\n\"But everyday we did have was magical. Five wonderful years.\"\n\n\"And ten miserable ones since. Can you imagine where we'd be, if only...\"\n\n\"I try not to imagine. I can't handle it.\"\n\n\"I can't not.\"\n\n\"This is why we're better apart. There would be no hope for either of us together. We would still be grieving like it happened yesterday.\"\n\n\"I know... I know...\"\n\n\"I have to get going. Take care of yourself.\"\n\n\"I will. I love you Jane.\"\n\n\"I love you Tom.\"\n\n--\n\nThe two exchanged the tear-filled hug that can only be understood by those who have lost the same. The wistful and unnatural emotional space known only to those parents who have buried their child. " ]	7
	[WP] You're a consultant for the FBI and they think you're a brilliant scientist with perfect recall and powerful observation skills, but the truth is you're a psychic and have to find ways to prove the things you already know because no one believes in psychics.	[ "PART I\n \n---------------------------------------------------------------------------- \nEveryone want's it easy, but, the truth is, when we do have it easy, we hate ourselves over it. \n \nI had a talent. A rule-breaking talent, that is. You may call it instinct, you may call it a sixth-sense, but I just always knew. \n \nI wanted to do some good with this talent of mine. Getting selected into the FBI should've been a breeze, but there lay the only problem. \n \nHow would you explain to men who have \"seen everything\" about your power? Well.... you don't. You just copy friggin Sherlock.\n \n \nI solved case after case. At first my, umm, excuses, where flimsy as hell. After all, pointing out the crucial evidence right away didn't help at all. They wanted some chase, some action, some excitement. I just wanted the bastards to get caught, no matter if I have to pretend to be a TV trope.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \nI'm so sorry, but the laptop crashed on part 2, so I'm just gonna leave this here.", "\"You ever see Psych?\" \n\nTwo men in blue jackets leaned against a brick wall. They were just outside of the barrier that the police tape ringing the blood puddle created. A crowd of people had gathered and detectives went from person to person collecting statements. \n\nOne of the men shook his head, and the questioner continued his line. \"What about Monk? Or the Mentalist?\n\nThe other shook his head again and the questioner gestured towards me. \"It's just like that.\"\n\nI rolled my eyes and stared down at the puddle of blood that was coagulating in the brisk night air. As soon as I saw the shimmering moon turned crimson upon the scarlet pool, the name shot into my mind like a racehorse at the crack of a pistol. \"She's been drugged with GHB.\" I said.\n\nThe two techs leaning against the wall glanced at each other and raced forward with a drug testing kit. One of them collected a swab of the blood in a vial and poured a blue compound on it. The mixed amalgamation turned green. \n\nThe techs both stared at me in awe, with the newcomer nodded. \"He's right, Detective. Preliminary tests confirm its GHB.\"\n\n\"How did he know?\" Muttered the newcomer with wide eyes.\n\n\"The moon reflecting off of the puddle was distorted. That wavelength is only in cases I've seen with GHB.\" I said. Damn, I didn't even try anymore. These guys believed any excuse that you could pull out of your ass.\n\n\"Of course!\" The more experienced lab tech said, staring at the moon's reflection.\n\nI rolled my eyes once more and poked the body once. I felt the foreign presence in the young woman's body, a slab of cold metal buried in her neck. It was tiny enough to skip the initial examination. Its existence bothered me, dug at the place in my neck where I knew it would be in hers.\n\n\"She's got a piece of needle in her neck.\" I said. \"It broke off during a struggle. Right by her voice box.\"\n\nA detective knelt down and prodded her neck with gloved fingers. He stood solemnly and nodded. \"Who do you think did it?\"\n\nI already knew the name and the location of the person who had done it. Of course, I'd have to lead them to it gradually. \n\n\"I don't know.\" I said, standing straight. \"Let me know when you get the fingerprints back. I'll be in that diner.\"" ]	2
	[WP] All of the cells in your body become sentient.	[ "\"Dan, you're fucking immature. You can't stick to one plan? Fine. I'll leave you, you can go and be sad somewhere else.\" \n\"Wait, Liz, I've just been feeling really off recently. A lot of people I know are in rough places, and it's bothering me.\" \n\"No, you've been wanting this for longer and now you have excuses.\" Liz just turned around and walked away. The door slammed. \n100,000 billion groans accompanied my own and I didn't know what to do but sit down and finish the takeaway. \n\"That's it, he's never driving again! It's been my turn since last _week!\"_ \n\"Shut the fuck up, you've been on three times!\" \nI try to ignore the incessant voices. They persist all the time, and I think I'd be insane if there weren't a totally unmanageable number of them. They only really get a say in things they all agree on: namely sex and food. Occasionally grooming, but they only ever tell me to leave the beard on and show off more muscle. There are quite a few screams when I trim my fingernails. \nAs you've heard, a significant portion of my brain cells think they take turns \"driving.\" I won't tell them the truth or they might try to figure out a way to do it. \nThe takeaway is now gone. A few voices pipe up: \n\"Food?\" \"Food?\" \"Gone?\" \"Conserve!\" \"Continue searching!\" \nI notice the sweet and sour sauce packet and my eyes clearly notified my mouth to salivate. It won't go away unless I entertain it, so I brace myself, rip open the pot and suck it up as quickly as possible. I've learnt that only the brain cells are capable of any half-complex thoughts. \nI want to cry but since acquiring their own survival instincts, my tear glands inform me it is too wasteful. \nI feel something brush against my hand and a lot of nerve cells therein protest. \n\"Shock!\" \"Shock!\" \"Sensation!\" \"Sudden!\" \"Danger?\" \n_\"Danger?\"_ Half of my body lights up like a firework, individual cells that don't really have the capacity to 'tense up' squirm, all wishing they could. \n\"Cat\" states one of the faster brain cells. Eyes confirm, ears confirm purring. \nPoor Milo doesn't appreciate that I have to reason with a thousand of myself at the same time before I've justified 'expending energy' to pet him. I ignore any further protests and switch on Netflix, attempting to tune out the yapping. \nI managed to brush my teeth and get in bed, preparing for the 'night watch.' \nMilo tucks in next to me, which helps me relax. I think even some of my cells know they can sleep easier with him watching out for me. \nThe Night Watch routine is mostly T cells checking up on everyone. \"Are you in danger?\" \"Have you seen any suspicious signals recently?\" \"Are you harbouring any harmful viral protein?\" \"Please present loose residues in Major Histocompatibility Complexes for checking.\" \"It is your duty to report any non-self peptides on your person...\" \nOccasionally I hear a voice speak up, and be silenced. \n_\"For the good of the tribe.\"_", "My zippo wouldn't work in the rain. Even under the cover of the old tree, great big gobs of wet went slamming all around, drowning out my attempts at relief before I'd even started. I fumbled in my back pocket and miraculously found a half-empty book of matches. Manically I tore them out, one by one, each dying quicker than the last under the relentless barrage of rain. Finally I succeeded, my body loosening under the release of tension.\n\nThe cigarette was lit. I let out a giant puff.\n\nA giant gasp broke my ease.\n\nI whirled around, expecting to see my beloved Hannah with that same look of hurt and disappointment. She was fed up with my smoking. Said she didn't want to waste her time with someone who wanted to kill himself. I would explain to her, this is the last time, she didn't understand how difficult it could be, she was so dismissive and I needed a support system. All the things I'd said the last time she found me hiding out in the cold.\n\nBut she wasn't there.\n\nThe gasp had filled my ears like a somber, whispered chorus. But she wasn't there. No one was there - it was well after midnight and the street was empty. Surely I hadn't imagined the sound.. I walked up to the corner and looked both ways. Some people were treading on away from my building, maybe fifty yards away now. I must've startled them, standing alone in the dark.\n\nI watched them walk away from me. I took a nervous drag. The familiar heat hit the back of my throat. Again, the chorus filled my ears, this time with a melancholy groan.\n\nAgain I whirled around. The sound had been right in my ears, but no one was there. I looked back at the people I had seen before. They were 100 yards off now, didn't even seem to notice me.\n\nI was freaking out. Out of habit I sucked deep on the cigarette. My ears filled with screams, it sounded like a million voices shrieking in agony. I started to get emotional. My eyes shot around in every direction, the smoke filling my lungs and nose and mouth as I pulled frantically for some relief. The screams rose to a maddening crescendo. Losing my grip on my own sanity, I tossed the cigarette and sprinted to the front door. The screams stopped then.\n\nI ran up three flights of stairs, dripping rain and sweat. My ears were ringing now. It wasn't until I got to the hallway, where the carpet muffled my heavy feet, that the white noise in my ear started to clarify itself. It was the distinct sound of crying. A million voices crying a soft, defeated cry. I was losing my mind, I knew it then.\n\nI burst into the apartment and immediately went to the bathroom. I stood and stared at the mirror for a while. The crying continued, growing louder and louder. I, too, began to cry.\n\nPounding on the door. Hannah. She asked if I was alright. She asked what smelled so bad. I had forgotten to mask the smell. She would know I had been smoking.\n\nThe voices grew louder, and I grew louder, until our cries blended together and I couldn't hear one from the other. The bathroom door banged against the lock. So much noise, my brain was on fire.\n\nThen I was suddenly aware that the only crying I heard was my own. The voices had stopped. I wiped the tears away from my face and snorted up the phlegm that had ran all over me. The pounding at the door had stopped, too. My crying was the only sound.\n\nNo, not the only sound. There was something else. My eyes widened as I strained to hear. It was very soft and rumbling. It was getting louder. My breathing was shallow and irregular, eyes rolling like a wild mare, as the whole of my mind's focus scrutinized the low sound.\n\nIt was laughter.\n\n***\n\nThe cycle repeated for a while. I told no one. My secret smoking breaks were met with agonized shrieks, but I couldn't stop. The shrieks were the only way I could stop the laughter, because the laughter didn't stop.\n\nAfter the third nosebleed, Hannah forced me to see a doctor. They seemed worried about my general appearance. They seemed even more worried when they returned with the film from my MRI.\n\nThe nurses avoided my gaze as the doctor informed me of the malignancy. Stage III. Very advanced. Was I a smoker?, they asked.\n\nI sat completely numb. The room grew incredibly silent as my mind went into shock. Suddenly I became aware of one thing. It had been so loud but I just now began to notice.\n\nA shrill, inhuman laughter. It sounded victorious." ]	2
	[WP] Evidence is brought into Los Angeles police department proving to not only the police, but to the world that OJ Simpson is in fact "absolutely 100% not guilty." Write a story about the aftermath.	[ "Al Sharpton makes a speech saying he \"knew it all along.\" Blacks everywhere rejoice and demand an apology from every white person they've ever met. American Crime Story begins to make the judge, white lawyers, and white jury members seem racist and spin the story as a triumphant hero saga. Every comedian who has ever made a joke about OJ's \"obvious\" guilt is chastised on the internet by every social justice warrior in the world. Kanye West issues a statement saying \"We all knew OJ never did it. Robert Kardashian was a genius and geniuses are infallible.\"", "\"...as the evidence is showing, OJ Simpson can clearly be aquitted of...\" CHRSCHSHT \n\nHis hand is holding the remote as if he wanted to shoot the anchor woman's head, just to shut this stupid bitch up he is pressing the Button as hard as he can until his thumb is hurting. \n\nThey don't know anything. They know nothing. They are filth.They are nothing.\n\nWith the remote still facing the void TV the memory is rushing back through his body like a shot of heroine. All nerves strained as a violin's string, he is feeling back into his precious, glorious moment. This one precious moment he would count. Him but no one else. He can see this woman's face in this void. This face of sheer panic - eyes wide open - lips forming those cadgeing words craving for forgiveness... He has to conjure a gently smile on his own face. Stupid whore, with her tearstained eyes, looking as miserable as sin. With all that makeup. As a dancing bear in a russian circus in the sleet. You'll soon eat my shit you fucking bitch! \n\n\"Who's laughing now!\" He is shouting and distorting his face to a smile once again. The power inside him is rising as his willingness to shoot.\n\n\"I...I...I didn't mean to..\" This filthy bitch is crying again. Must be a women's thing. Obviously she doesn't even know why I am here. Doesn't even know who i am. Who I* am!What *I* am about to do with her...\n\n\"Don't... Don't..Please!... I give you all you want! All you...\"\n\n\"Shut up! You stupid bitch never cared about anyone than yourself! You never gave a damn shit about me! >I'd die before i marry max. this cripple is sooooo disgusting. I hope OJ will fall for me. I'll ask him out for prom.<\nYes I was there while you made fun of me, it's over. Our love is gone..You even made fun of me when i ended as your waiter serving you. You laughed at me. At me! You fooled me once in high school. You fooled me so often while was so into you; Oh fuck you even took a joke on me everytime fucking visited the restaurant i was working at while i was comforting your new plastic surgeon ass with an extra pillow while your plastic tits were staring at me like a kid craving for a lollipop. Once you were pretty, you know.. Then you were plastic.. Soon you'll be dust..\"\n\n He is feeling the power, the destructive force in his hand. Smashing someone's scull, her fake scull. This will be the last footprint he will leave in this world. The last thing that will matter. It is everything* that matters. \n\nBAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!\n\n\"OOORDER IN COURT! I DEMAND OOORDER IN MY COURT!\"\n\n\"So Mr. Max Riverside, you are stating - contrary to the defendat's aliby - you seen him close to the victim's area?\"\n\nStupid Judge! Of course I \"could have seen\" him there this night. Because I've fuckin' been there, you dumbass!\n\n\"Yes, so it is, i saw the defendant right in reach of the victim's house right after i finished my shift in the LobsterVille.\"\ngrounting in the courtroom\n\nBAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!\n\n After loading a full amunition of his revolver into OJ's chest, Max is kneeling on his rebelling body. The waves of the pectoral muscels are bouncing back but through the heavy pressure of Max's knee breaking it's way through to OJ's larynx, there was never a chance of surviving. \"I knew it wa....\" where his last words. Then OJ passed away ghasping and finally cracking his neck. \n\nBAM! BAM! CRACK!\n\nFrom the other side of the street Max is watching the policemen storming the house of OJ. Maybe someone heard the shots, maybe someone heard the undisposed cracking of the neck. \n\nI couldn't know a smashing neck was so fuckin' loud* Was Max thinking on his way home. \n\n\nEdit: words + some problems with bold while italic. please help if you dont mind (firsttimer) :) " ]	2
	[WP] Write a deep, philosophical piece about anything you choose, however all it builds up to is a reference.	[ "I have this habit of really enjoying describing everything.\nFrom what I see, feel, hear, touch or smell.\nFrom the daily surroundings and tasks, whether it’s on mind or I speak it out loud (on rare occasions), I’ve always wanted to spill out playful and descriptive words to things that catches my attention.\nBut there is always an exception to the rule.\nAnd I guess it’s you.\nI could see you, feel and touch you, hear and even smell you (lol).\nI have all the means yet I cannot describe.\nI have all the facts yet I cannot understand.\nI am with you yet I don’t have the perfect words to say how I feel.\nIndefinite.\nUncapable.\nI cannot adequately describe everything.\nI wanted to be accurate and I’m sure there are feelings and emotions that I have felt.\nBeing with you paralyzes my deep desire to describe and comprehend everything. \nBeing with you drowns my own soul. Sometimes I can’t breathe, but most of the time I just love being soaked in cold blue waters. \nI know this is the dilemma of being too sensitive and attune with myself.\nI felt something and I want to write it.\nIn words.\nEven if I’m having some hard time, I still want to.", "\"So, that's it?\" I asked. \"I just point at one person and I'll end their life?\"\n\nThe man floating next to me turned his head from side to side as though he were considering several options for a Saturday evening dinner destination where every restaurant happened to sound particularly appealing.\n\n\"Well,\" he finally began. \", not you specifically, but yes. Picking someone out will result in the termination of their life.\"\n\n\"And if I refuse to do that at all?\"\n\n\"More's the same to me! I don't really care whether or not time continues in this plane of existence.\" He lazily tilted his head towards the strange brass lamp I cleaned which summoned him. \"At least here, there's actually some shit to see and do rather than sit and meditate or stare at the brass walls for a few millennium.\"\n\nI looked down and defeated at the lamp by my feet and gave it a soft kick.\n\n\"I don't think I could kill anyone.\" I finally said after gazing off into the frozen sunset for a while.\n\n\"Like I said, it doesn't necessarily have to be you. Hell, I'll let you choose the method, even.\" The strange man drifted towards me casually and reassuringly pat me on my shoulder. In an odd way, his gesture felt genuinely reassuring as opposed to forced and asympathetic, like I expected it to be.\n\n\"What if,\" I said very slowly and carefully. I have plenty of time while time doesn't run, which is nice. That means I can carefully deliberate what I want to say and not make any mistakes. \", what if I gave it to someone else? The kill?\"\n\n\"What if they choose you?\" answered the man with a sly grin.\n\n\"Well, that's a good point...\" I thought some more.\n\nI sat down in the dirt and stared at the forever sunset. At least this non-genie was able to capture the world at such a perfect point in time. The rich purples and blues were splayed over the deep reds like someone took a few different colors of taffy and began to mix them until they began to resemble mixed leftover carnival cotton candy.\n\n\"Why do I have to do this at all?\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\" the non-genie refocused his attention away from a dandelion which was frozen in time right as the breeze had begun to blow it's white seedlings away.\n\n\"Why do i have to kill anyone at all? Who made it your job to make people do this?\"\n\n\"Sorry man, that's classified information for mortals. Maybe you'll find out after you're dead.\"\n\n\"There's an afterlife.\"\n\n\"For some people.\" He shrugged and returned his gaze to the dandelion. \"Do you need help deciding?\"\n\n\"On whether or not to do it?\"\n\n\"No, that's something you have to do on your own, unfortunately. I don't want to twist your fate too terribly much. I'm just the smoking gun...\" He looked back at the brass lamp nearby to where I had been standing. \"...well, smoking lamp that will be in your hands.\"\n\n" ]	2
"No, I don't know what Putin is up to. Why do you always ask me that?"	[WP] Through an unfortunate combination of coincidence and confirmation bias, your friends and family become convinced that you are a secret agent. You are definitely not a secret agent.	[ "\"...and that's why I'm not a secret agent.\"\n\nThis has to work. This hour-long presentation just has to work. Two weeks I've spent on this, all leading up to this moment.\n\nCollecting statements from witnesses who had seen me do normal human things, requesting security feeds from the guards at the library who happen to trust me, maybe because even they are convinced that I lead a double life.\n\nI had even spent an entire day with a GoPro strapped to my head, just to have the footage to prove that I didn't do anything secret for the government that would merit this kind of obsession.\n\nAll that hard work, culminating into this.\n\nAnd it worked. My family has been thoroughly convinced, to my utmost surprise, (that is, after several more hours of *their* own research, which was more extensive than mine).\n\nI woke up the next morning for once, without a feeling of dread, as if a huge burden had been lifted, as none of my family members pestered me about it the next day.\n\nI was on my way to school when I was pulled aside by a man, I assume someone undercover. \"I'm from the CIA and we've been monitoring you. We think you will make a great addition to this agency.\"\n\nThat's when the real troubles began.", "\"Morning,\" I muttered, headed straight for the cupboard. Maybe we had some toaster pastries left.\n\n\"Morning, Mr. bond,\" my father replied. I shut the cupboard and let my head hit the shelf above it. This again, I thought.\n\n\"I'm not a secret agent,\" I said calmly. Part of me had hoped it was still a joke, some sick joke, but unless everyone were in on it, it couldn't be.\n\n\"Sounds like exactly the kind of thing a secret agent would say,\" he replied, not even looking up from his newspaper. \"Looks like the Deaf Bandits were caught yesterday. 'Bout the same time you were 'at practice'.\" He finally looked up. \"Care to explain that?\"\n\nI hit my head on the shelf for emphasis, before reopening it to look for breakfast once more. \"Coincidence,\" I said. Of course, I could've just told him that I'd skipped practice to hang out with my girlfriend, but I didn't think that'd go over well; I'd only spent half the time with her anyway. The rest was literally just enjoying the cool autumn night alone, and that made for a poor alibi.\n\n\"Really?\" he asked. \"Coincidence,\" he repeated to himself. I slouched. He'd talked to someone, hadn't he?\n\n\"Okay, fine, I was hanging out with Brit,\" I said. She was no secret, but if he pressed, there's no way he'd believe that I'd spent half that time doing nothing.\n\nHe glanced up. \"So, you weren't at practice. Are you sure you were with Brit, then?\"\n\nI opened the foil package and dropped the pair of semi-nutritious snacks into the toaster. \"Dad, I'm not a secret agent.\"\n\n\"It's funny,\" he said, reaching for his phone. I could tell he was planning on continuing, but my mom came downstairs at just the right time. I almost sighed my relief. She had a mischievous streak, but she'd stop this joke. At least for a few hours.\n\n\"What's funny?\" she asked.\n\n\"Dad thinks I'm a secret agent,\" I said with a smile. Hopefully she'd realize it was a joke.\n\nShe turned and gave him a swat on the shoulder. I only heard a few words of their subsequent whispers, but I got the distinct impression she was chastising him. My eyes widened.\n\n\"I'm not a secret agent,\" I nearly shouted. I had no clue how they thought I was. I could hardly even get out of bed without falling on my face. I'd never even held a gun. I mean, true, I'd already 'hacked' the wifi password (in their words; really, they didn't know to change the login from 'admin'), and figured out how to hide my internet history no matter what they tried (they weren't good with technology), but this was ridiculous.\n\n\"Honey, we know you have to keep everything a secret,\" she said in a hushed tone. \"You can save the world. We won't pry.\"\n\nI rolled my eyes. Prying was about all they knew how to do. I heard a thump from the second floor, and took a deep breath. Surely my sister wouldn't be a part of this insanity. She was the one I could rely on no matter what to make me feel like I'd been dragged through the mud. And oddly, I felt like I could use it. I groaned inwardly, though. That would mean I'd need to make another breakfast, since she'd probably want the one I'd just made.\n\n\"Hey, Kev,\" she said, sounding suspiciously cheery. \"Did you sleep well?\"\n\n\"What do you care?\" I asked, taking my breakfast to the table. I felt her arms wrap around me in a lopsided hug, and almost dropped the plate.\n\n\"I always cared about my favorite brother,\" she said, before disengaging.\n\n\"What are you -\" I began, before setting the plate down and bracing my hands on the table. \"I'm not an agent!\" I shouted.\n\n\"What?\" she asked, a bit too sarcastic for my taste. \"A secret agent? You?\" She winked. \"Secret's safe with me, li'l bro.\"\n\n\"Here it is,\" my dad said. Apparently he'd finally found whatever it was he'd been looking for. \"Two weeks ago, Vladimir Tsepesh disappeared. Same day you were gone 'at the library',\" he said. He even did air quotes.\n\n\"I got a stamp on my card, dad. I can prove I was there.\"\n\n\"And what about yesterday?\" my mom asked.\n\n\"He was 'with Brit',\" my dad said, once again with the air quotes. She mouthed an \"oh\".\n\nI sat with one hand on my head, the other holding the pastry as I numbly ate. This was just getting weird.\n\n\"Last week, though,\" my sister decided to chime in, \"police had the Braxley building quarantined. And you were nowhere to be found.\"\n\nI sighed. Okay, I remembered hearing about that, and unfortunately, I had decided to go to the game store that day. Not quite the same place, but they'd think it was a bad cover-up.\n\n\"And what about the time they closed the supermarket early?\" my dad asked.\n\n\"Dad, that was just a Union thing,\" my sister said. It was disconcerting that they were actually arguing with each other. Maybe this wasn't their idea of a joke.\n\n\"Can I go to school now?\" I asked. It wasn't a long walk, but anywhere was better than here.\n\n\"Who's gonna stop you?\" my sister asked. I rolled my eyes.\n\n\"I'll see you later,\" I called, headed for my room and my backpack.\n\n\"Have fun saving the world, honey,\" my mom called.\n\n\"Use protection,\" my dad said, and I heard a soft whack. \"What?\" I heard him ask, \"It's good advice no matter what.\"\n\nI snatched the bag and made my way back downstairs.\n\n\"Tell me if you need my help,\" my sister said.\n\n\"Love you guys,\" I halfheartedly called, before closing the front door behind me. How I'd convince them that I wasn't a secret agent, I'd have to figure out later. There was a math test today." ]	2
	[WP] Tell me a bedtime story with a happy ending.	[ "So this girl orders a pizza in the middle of the day and somehow the place delivers. Guy get to her place with her pizza, and it's a ridiculous size pizza for one person, and wouldn't you know it, she has no money. Not sure who orders a pizza with no money, but the pizza guy doesn't seem too upset by this. She invites him in, despite the fact that he probably has more deliveries, and to your surprise he comes in. Her house is amazing which is ironic cause she has no money in the whole place. The pizza guy is like \"What should we do about this pizza?\" and the girl, who by the way isn't dressed appropriately to have company over says \"I really want that pizza and I'll do anything!\" The pizza guy is a little taken back by this and thinks to himself \"I can really take advantage of this opportunity.\" He sits down on the couch, holding the pizza box awkwardly, and begins to open it. The girls eyes open widely and she says \"Is that....sausage?\" The pizza man replies \"Didn't you order a extra large sausage?\" Her parents then come home and luckily have money so they pay for the pizza and tip the guy well for his time. The end.", "Once upon a time there was a successful hit man named Wak M. Alle. Mr. Alle got involved in the business of termination at a young age-he used a garret on his first target at twenty-two. Since then he'd traveled all over the world-Rome, Istanbul, Tehran, Hong Kong-building his reputation as a silent killer, a shadow in the corner, a virtual boogeyman for those important enough to warrant a bounty. He was hired by CEO's and head's of state, and agencies too secretive for him to know their name. \n\nSometimes the missions required him to dress up as a hotel staff. Sometimes they required him to be a sophisticated socialite. Sometimes he had to dress in filth and wait in a back alley. And others he had to lay on a gravel roof for hours while the sun beat his brow.\n\nSometimes he used a gun, sometimes a knife, sometimes he had to strangle them with his bare hands. Whatever the job required, he delivered. He left no unhappy clients. He never left unpaid. \n\nAnd it was another such night that he lay on a rooftop, staring through the scope of a sniper rifle across at a neighboring skyscraper. Mr. Alle's static attention sharpened as one of the skylines' apartments lit up. The scopes' magnification allowed Mr. Alle to see his targets' profile clearly. His target crossed the living area wearily and flicked on the lights in his bedroom. Wearily, he sighed and began to set is briefcase, keys, and wallet in their proper space. \n\nMr. Alle flicked the safety off. His finger crept closer to the trigger. \n\nThen suddenly, another figure ran in. A small figure.\n\nThe targets' daughter wasn't supposed to be here. Wasn't expected. The girl jumped into his arms, and hugged him tight. Mr. Alle could see even from here the smile that came to the tired man's face. The little girl showed him a piece of paper-a drawing. It made him laugh, and he hugged her again. \n\nMr. Alle watched all this impassively. Then, his finger slowly withdrew from the trigger. He lay there a few moments longer, watching his target and the daughter move out of sight. Then he stood, packed up the rifle. And slowly, he walked away. It didn't matter who wanted him dead, or what he'd done to deserve the bounty. It had stopped mattering to Wak M. Alle a long time ago. \n\nThe end\n**\n\nSleep well :)", "Once upon a time;\nThere was a Prince named Lance. He became friends with a peasant kid named Samus. They grew up together, even when they became teenagers they both were the best of friends. One day, Lance was called upon by the King who wanted him to fetch something upon the highest mountain. Lance wanted Samus to come; but the King demanded he had to go alone and leave Samus behind. \"It's for the best of the kingdom\" His father said. \"It's time you learn how to be King yourself.\"\n\nSo Lance did what he was told, he wanted to please his father. He began ascending the mountain, fighting the cold winds, harsh landscapes and grueling exertion. However, Lance found himself alone, scared and unhappy. Upon further thinking he descended back down and called Samus to join him on his journey. Together they climbed the mountain and found the sword the King had requested.\n\nWhen they returned to the kingdom the King was most unhappy. \"Why did you bring Samus with you? This is against my wishes!\" Lance started to become scared but stood up to his father and told him \"I wanted my friend by my side!\". The King smiled; \"And now you know how to be king. I am proud of you Lance.\"\nLance and Samus remained friends ever since and still are great friends.\n\nThe End.", "Once upon a time, there was a young eel, deep in the coral reef. He lived a happy life and never thought of anything but feasting on the tasty fish and shrimp that lived in the bottom of the ocean with him, swimming and feeling the push of the tide as it drew him in and out, and sleeping in his comfortable hidey-hole. It was a comfortable life, and he was content. \n\nUntil one day, as he was swimming about, a wise old shark swam by. \"Little eel,\" said the shark. \"Are you not lonely? Do you not often wish for companionship?\"\n\nThe little eel thought about it. \"No, sir,\" he said. \"I am quite content swimming around and eating delicious shrimp and living in my hidey-hole.\"\n\n\"Suit yourself,\" said the old shark. But as he swam away, he added, \"Might as well forget I asked.\"\n\nNow, if that shark had said something like, \"Mark my words,\" or if the shark had emphasized the importance of it, then the young eel would have done just that. But since the shark had made nothing of it and, in fact, had told the eel to forget it, quite naturally the eel could think of nothing else for days. And because he could think of nothing else, he became very unhappy with his life indeed. He became bitter about his shrimp and fish dinners and uncomfortable with his hidey-hole. And when he went out to swim with the tide, surrounded by the population of the reef, it only made him feel lonelier.\n\n\"Oh stuff all these things!\" he said. \"I was never unhappy about it, but now I am unhappy without a companion! I must find one.\" And so the young eel swam off in search of a companion.\n\nWithin minutes, he found another eel. \"Hello, Miss eel,\" he said to her. \"Would you like to be my companion?\"\n\n\"Oh, no,\" she said. \"I have a companion already, and all these little fry to take care of! But thank you for the offer.\" And he swam away, disappointed, but he did not expect to be so lucky on the first try.\n\nHe came up to another eel a couple of hours later. \"Hello, Miss eel,\" he said to her. \"I would like a companion.\"\n\n\"You would, would you?\" said she. \"Well, good luck with your search.\"\n\n\"Would you like to be my companion?\" he asked.\n\n\"I am not interested in a companion at this time.\" And he swam away, quite perturbed.\n\nA couple of days later, he came upon another eel. \"My dearest Miss eel,\" he said to her. \"Isn't it a lovely day for companionship? Would you like to join me?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said. \n\n\"Why not?\" asked he.\n\n\"Because,\" she said, \"In all honesty, you seem a bit too eager for companionship to me. And I wonder, what is it you are looking for that you haven't found?\"\n\n\"I am looking for a companion,\" he said. \"I was happy in my hole, eating shrimp and fish and swimming with the tide, but then I realized that I did not have a companion, and that I must have a companion to be happy.\"\n\n\"But my dear Mister eel,\" she replied. \"If you are not satisfied without a companion, what makes you think you will find something with one? Companionship is as much about giving as it is about taking. Are you ready to give? I can tell you are not. You are thinking only of what you want. Now do go, I have had a busy day of swimming and need my rest.\"\n\nAnd the young eel was more frustrated than ever, and darted back to his hidey-hole, bitter and upset.\n\nHe had been there a week, pouting and grouchy, before the shark swam by again. \"What's this?\" he asked the little eel. \"What happened to my happy young eel? I think I have not seen an eel so miserable as this in all my years! Do you no longer enjoy your shrimp and fish and your swimming with the tide and your coze hidey-hole?\"\n\n\"No!\" the young eel nearly shouted. \"I do not have a companion to share this with me! And I must have one to be happy,\" he said.\n\n\"Oh, dear,\" said the shark. \"You do now? You didn't before.\"\n\n\"Well, yes,\" said the eel. \"I was quite content before. But then the idea of having a companion -- well it seemed so nice! Someone I can snuggle with in my cozy hidey-hole. I can catch a big fish or shrimp and split it with her! We can swim in the ocean together.\"\n\n\"Those sound quite nice. But they seem quite nice even without a companion, no?\"\n\n\"Well, yes, but now that I think of how it might feel to do them with someone...\"\n\n\"Perhaps that is the case. Perhaps there is no more enjoyment to be had in these things,\" said the shark, and he swam away.\n\nNow if that shark had pointed out to the eel that the things he had enjoyed were still just as fun as they had been before, the eel never would have thought another thing of it. But because the shark said there was no more enjoyment to be had, the young eel began to think.\n\n\"You know, I do still like my hidey-hole. It is a very nice hidey-hole by itself. And I enjoy swimming in the water just as much as I always did. And the little fish I ate yesterday was particularly good. I would enjoy them just as much as I did before if I don't have a companion. Why would I miss the joy without them?\"\n\nAnd so the little eel stopped worrying about having a companion, and began to enjoy his life once again. He still had that longing in his heart, but he was no longer a miserable young eel. He was happy again.\n\nOne month later, the water was warming up as Spring began to arrive, and he was just the happiest little eel swimming about, when someone came up to him.\n\n\"Pardon me,\" she said. \"I couldn't help but notice how much you were enjoying the water here.\"\n\n\"Dance with me!\" said the little eel. \"It's fun, but it's even more fun if we do it together!\" And she did. And the two eels spun and coiled and danced, and all the fish and life around the reef were amazed at the beauty of their dance.\n\nJust then, the eel spotted a large tiger shrimp! \"Over there!\" he said to the other eel. \"Those taste wonderful, but they are too large for one little eel to eat. Would you like to split one with me?\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't know,\" she replied.\n\n\"You don't have to if you don't want to. Here, I'll catch some for myself, and you may try it if you like.\" And he shot forward and snapped and bit the tiger shrimp clean in two. He nudged the tastiest part, the head, to the female eel, and she ate it. Together, they ate the delicious shrimp.\n\n\"You know,\" she said, \"I've had them before, but for some reason, like this, it tastes better!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" the little eel yawned, \"I think... I think you're right!\" And the little eel was very tired.\n\n\"I must retire to my cozy hidey-hole. It is truly a nice hidey-hole. Great for sleep. I am tired.\"\n\n\"Oh, I do love a good hidey-hole,\" she said.\n\n\"Would you... would you like to share mine with me?\"\n\n\"I do believe I would!\"\n\nAnd so the young eel snuggled up in his hidey-hole with his new companion,* and they went to sleep.\n\n\nDAD JOKE ENDING\n\nThe wise old shark watched all this from afar, while an even older lobster ambled up to him.\n\n\"You knew that the little eel would finally find love all along?\" the lobster.\n\n\"Of course,\" said the shark. \"That's a moray.\"" ]	4
	[WP] Take the first line of a nursery rhyme, turn it into something dark and twisted.	[ "The ants go marching one by one -\nUp on top a good man's son -\nHe had stopped to rest and suck his thumb -\nWhen a snake bit him on his bum -\nHe fell and screamed to the grass -\nHis muscles still and spine crass -\nNow all the ants feast on his flesh -\nWhile his eyes dart and body rest", "Spoilers for Undertale (yes, this is the spin I'm pulling)\n\nMary had a little lamb, his fleece as white as snow.\nThey say he came from a mountain realm, where few, if any, go.\n\nHis name, Asriel, meant \"prince of God\", in the tongues of distant lands,\nthough when misspelled, it reminded him of the blood upon his hands.\n\nIn ancient times, his kind was sealed so far beneath the ground.\nOf events upon the surface, monsterkind heard no sound.\n\nUntil one day, a human child fell into that dark place.\nFear filled their heart until they saw the Dreemurr child's face.\n\nTheir name, the Dreemurr would not say, for it filled his heart with dread.\nAfter all, the child's plans almost struck Asriel dead.\n\nSeven souls of humans were needed to break the seal,\nso with the fallen human, Asriel made a deal.\n\nThe child drank a potion which made them very sick.\nMuch to Asriel's sorrow, their passing was not quick.\n\nThe child died, and with their soul, Asriel left his home.\nBristling with power, over many hills did he roam.\n\nHe came upon a village, where human beings dwelled.\nBut while Asriel's fears grew quickly, the child's influence swelled.\n\nAsriel watched in horror, as his body ignored his mind,\nas the child used his power to kill all that they could find.\n\nMen, women, children, none of them were spared.\nAn understatement it is to say that Asriel was scared.\n\nHe forgot how many humans died, how many souls were taken,\nbut all too well he knows how the child's influence was shaken.\n\nThe barrier fell, but the king and queen, they did not feel joy.\nTheir could only look on in despair at what had become of their boy.\n\nBut the child no longer controlled the lamb, and gone were all the souls.\nFinally gone were those eyes of red, burning like hot coals.\n\nGuilt buffeted the boy's young heart, so far away he ran,\nfar across the ashen lands that once belonged to Man.\n\nUntil one day he met Mary, a girl ever so pretty.\nThey met each-other in the dust of what was once a city.\n\nThe years did pass, and the boy Asriel did grown into a man.\nWith age came power, and with it, Asriel formed a plan.\n\nThough the years eased his sorrows, he still felt deep regret.\n\"The time has come\", the Dreemurr said. \"For this world to reset\".", "She could feel him. His ancient evil. The roiling rage and hatred and jealousy and spite. She could see him. The darkness in those eyes. Those precious eyes. Why would he do this? Why would Beelzebub himself torment her like this? Her poor baby. Why did Satan do this to her baby?\n\nShe knew what she had to do. She got the rope. She took the devil outside. She hung the devil up. He snarled and gasped and gurgled at her. And then he stopped. The devil was gone. Her baby was free.\n\nSoftly, she sang, \"Rock-a-bye-baby, in the treetops. . .\"\n\nLittle feet swung in the wind." ]	3
	[WP] It was the chance of a lifetime, and it would only cost someones life.	[ "The chance of a lifetime. Only the cost of someones life. The up's and downs of it raced over and over in my head. I looked at the knife in my hand. I closed my eyes. My life was old, worthless. My daughter... My daughter was still young. She was radiant. She had a chance. I plunged the knife into my heart. One last thought raced through my mind before utter blackness took over. \"I hope it was true.\" I didn't feel the impact of the floor.", "I'd never been given such a good chance. Single, childless, worthless, his feet crunched on under the frosty streetlamps, not knowing or caring that he'd be dead in a little while.\n\nMy stomach grumbled, but I couldn't let go of the idea. From the first instant I saw him, sitting alone in the lonely coffee shop, I knew he would be mine tonight. I had followed him as far as the train station, that first time, watching him for any movement, any sign that someone was worried enough to call his cell phone. It never rang. And over the next few weeks I saw why. I saw how there had once been a family in that big house of his. I saw where his kids would've walked out, day after day, on their way to school, and where, one night, their lives had been erased when a drunk driver ran them over. \n\nSuch is life.\n\nI even had a name - though, in the interests of professionalism, I won't disclose it. What was undeniable was his constant state of misery. I could smell it coming off him, the smell like cold rain, as I 'bumped' into the man on the train back. It felt like despair. It tasted like perfection to me. If he died, it wasn't like the world was going to care one bit. I've always thought that people died when there was no-one left to care for them. So in effect, the man standing at the streetlights before me was already dead.\n\nHe crossed the street. I adjusted myself in the bush. Pace yourself, I said. Enjoy every moment of the hunt. I've always wondered what it was like to kill. Maybe I'd be famous, I thought. They'd call me the so-and-so sniper. But more than that, it was the visceral thrill, the same kind of enjoyment you had before a rollercoaster, that drew me in. I felt the smooth stock of the sniper rifle up against my body. I'd known what I wanted to do, and I could hardly have picked a more deserving victim. Then the man stopped in front of a brightly-lit shop.\n\nPerfect.\n\nI lined up the sights. In the glass reticle my target looked almost small, nonhuman, as if he'd been a fly on the face of humanity. I could hear my heart pounding as my excitement mounted. Breathe normally. Pull the trigger softly - if the shot surprises you, it's been done right. This was it. This really was it. And then I saw the shop door open.\n\n\"How you're doing, Sam?\" \n\nSam didn't move, or even look at the lady offering him a cigarette. The lady withdrew a little, quiet, unsure. And then Sam turned and looked straight at me.\n\nAnd he smiled like he welcomed death.\n\nI smiled back, and pulled the trigger.\n\nIt was the chance of a lifetime, to be a murderer, and it would only ever cost someone's life.\n\n---\n\n/r/KCcracker for more stories and short pieces of writing from me. I hope you've found this piece interesting." ]	2
	[WP] Give me the feels in 100 words or less, with a high school romance story	[ "\"Hey, Jake.\"\n\n\"If there's anything you need, man, tell us. We're here for you.\"\n\n\"It's so sad. They were dating since 6th grade.\"\n\n\"What about the others?\"\n\n\"They didn't go to our school.\"\n\nThe boy stands over his classmate's usual desk in their homeroom, meticulously adjusting the lilies and making sure the wreath is at the perfect angle. \n\nOne stupid mistake at a 10th grade party. \n\nOne stupid, stupid mistake. \n\nOne or two bottles shared between friends. \n\nOne car, wrapped around a tree. \n\nOne survivor, three dead. \n\nOne half of a couple. Gone.", "“Almost”\n2/20/16\n\n“We Almost made it..” I said under my breath. “We had so many plans, so many things we wanted to do.” I said a bit more confident. “We were gonna buy a house, have kids.. live our lives together.” I smiled sadly. “Cadin was my life, but some careless fool took him away from me.” I said. I clenched my paper and turned around towards the casket. “I’m sorry love, I should’ve driven you to the party that night..” \n" ]	2
Note the wording.	[WP] A catastrophe has destroyed humanity, but everyone's still alive.	[ "Milk. Milk was the most important thing on Jerry’s mind right now. If he forgot the milk, he wouldn’t be able to make a drink when he got home. He wouldn’t be able to make a drink for either of them. So milk was top of his list as he pushed the loaded shopping cart to the back of the store. He grabbed the usual bottle of milk, then returned it to the shelf and grabbed the skimmed milk. He was supposed to be watching his weight, and this was one of the ways they’d agreed to do that.\n\nHe flung the cart around with some force to counter the weight of the shopping and nearly crashed into someone attempting to pass him. \n\n“Whoa” Jerry said and quickly followed with “Sorry buddy, wasn’t paying attention” \n\nHe lifted his gaze to the carts owner only to find them scowling back at him. \n\n“Watch it, Buddy” The guy replied, saying the last word with as much ferocity as he could manage. He pushed his cart into Jerry’s and carried on down the aisle. He watched in disbelief as the suited guy neared the end of the aisle and marched around the corner ready to give someone else grief. Jerry admitted he was in the wrong, but the guy still acted like a dick. Happy with his milk selection he pushed the cart, more gently this time, and started down the aisle. \n\nHe didn’t see the first of them fall. Somewhere in the stall he heard a loud smash, the sound of a pane of glass being shattered. He picked up speed eager to see what the commotion was about, ready to gain some good gossip to share with Samantha when he got home. Sam, you’ll never guess what happened at the grocery store, some idiot drove his car through the main window. His imagination ran wild with the possibilities of what just occurred. He turned the corner at the end of the aisle and was somewhat disappointed to find no car in sight. He could see the missing pane of glass at the front of the store and moved to get a better view. By now most of the store was crowding around trying to see as well. \n\nAbandoning his cart to one side he managed to work his way through a gap in the crowd and get a good view. He could plainly see the woman who had gone through the glass, it looked like she fell in from outside. Blood was pouring onto the floor as she gagged, grasping for the shard of glass sticking out of her neck. The sight was enough to make Jerry sick. He turned away and held his stomach, retching. He wasn’t good with blood; it did funny things to him. Even so, the sight of the woman with the shard in her neck was enough to turn anyone’s stomach. He couldn’t get away from the gargling sound she was making, probably drowning on her own blood. The crowd turned their gaze in various directions away from the scene as the noises died down to a murmur. Someone nearby started to cry and Jerry decided he couldn’t bear it any longer. \n\nHe walked back to his cart and turned once more to see the crowd. Some of the shoppers were returning to their shopping. The curious few who stayed looked on with almost excited eyes. He felt himself get angry at their desire to watch another person die. It was grotesque, he wondered how people could have so little shame. He caught a glimpse of one men in particular standing all suited, probably an Audi driver. The man stood with his arm extended, videoing the tragedy on his mobile. Jerry thought of himself as a good person and decided he was unable to stand by and watch someone defile that poor woman. Blood or no, he moved around his cart and marched towards the suited man.\n\n“Hey Buddy” he shouted over the crowd. All eyes were now on him as he pushed past people. When he was closer he realised it was the same guy he’d run into earlier. His head didn’t move from his video, a sick grin glued to his face. Jerry marched closer and grabbed the guy by the shoulder, spinning him around. \n\n“Hey buddy, you want to stop that?” Realising what was happening the guy reached out and pushed Jerry away. \n\n“Fuck off” the reply he received.\n\nThe guy turned back to his macabre viewing, the smile returning to his face. Jerry regained his balance, took a step forward clenching a fist, and swung it at the Mr Audi’s head. The punch connected with a thud, the shock running through his arm surprised Jerry. He’d never punched anyone before. The guy staggered back towards the entrance to the store, and looked around confused. The blow wasn’t very strong; Jerry didn’t really work out or anything. Standing 5ft 10, he was overweight, but it was all fat. No muscle to speak of.\n\nThe look on the guy’s face turned from confusion, to anger, then to surprise. He fell to one knee, then fell face down on the floor. His eyes twitched and dashed about with shock. Jerry stepped back in surprise looking at his fist, still stinging from the hit.\n\n“I didn’t hit him hard” He said to no-one in particular.\n\nHe repeated the words to himself, feeling his head starting to spin. His mind ran to an assault trial, possible prison. He didn’t know what to do. He looked up at the crowd and realised no-one was listening. They all seemed to be in a state of confusion, some held their head in their hands. Jerry’s head continued to spin as he fought to retain balance. The adrenaline was doing weird things to him, things he’d never felt before. He didn’t like the feeling, it felt off, unnatural. He looked again at the crowd and saw as someone else fell to their knees. And another one, this time straight forwards into a prone position. A young girl fell next, falling on top of Mr Audi who had yet to move.\n\nJerry felt his head spinning more and more, he fell to his knees next. He managed another look at the crowd before succumbing to the effects of gravity. He fell backwards, his arms and legs spreading out around him into a star. He pulled his head upright trying to stand back up again but his head refused to move. In fact, he was unable to move any part of his body now. By now the entire crowd had fallen and laid in various ways on the floor. His head began to clear and his sense returned. He jumped without moving when a loud explosion came from outside the window. Jerry’s head was facing the wrong way to see what the explosion was, but the room light in an amber light. He knew the fire was close. He couldn’t move any part of his body, and looking around him neither could anyone else. \n\nWhat is happening Jerry thought to himself before his mind turned to darker thoughts. I can’t move, no-one can move. He caught sight of the little girl spread out on top of Mr Audi. He eyes were filled with terror. Eyes he would have to stare into until starvation took them all.", "He couldn’t help but thinking the blood loss should have killed him by now. Oh, to be sure, Darren thought that the bleeding had stopped, since the cool, somewhat maddening tickling sensation running down his gut and legs where he couldn’t reach it with either of his pinned arms had stopped a few minutes ago. But he wasn’t entirely sure if that was because there was no more bleeding or because he was simply going numb.\n\nThen he could hear the sound of scrambling over the top of the debris pile that had him trapped. Someone was out there. He was too tired and hurt to feel elation at that thought, but his mind shifted into overdrive as he realized he needed to let them know he was here somehow. He couldn’t let them pass this place without realizing he was trapped here under the rubble. There might be no one again for hours or days.\n\nHe opened his mouth, feeling the stinging of cracked lips and tried to shout, but was horrified when what came out was a faint wheezing followed by a cough that felt weak due to lack of breath. He tried again, but his mouth was too dry and he couldn’t inhale deeply enough to do more than whisper. He would have broken down in tears but there didn’t seem to be enough moisture left in him. Eventually he managed to wrap one hand around a small chunk of concrete that was close enough to grab and shifted it enough to bang on the steel girder that held his right arm.\n\nHey, hold up! he heard someone say. Over here. I think I felt something.\n\nWhere? said someone else.\n\nRight here, said the first. Under this pile. I think I could sense a vibration.\n\nDarren frowned. There was something wrong with that statement — possibly with the entire situation — but his mind was too unfocused to puzzle it out. For him, it was enough to know that someone knew he was here. Exerting himself as much as he could, he rapped insistently with the chunk of concrete.\n\nYep, said the second person again. Definitely a micro-tremor. Rhythmic. Deliberate. There’s somebody down there alright.\n\nHow do I move this stuff? said the first person. It all feels interconnected. The pieces of debris are locked onto one another. No matter which one I pull on, they won’t move.\n\nCalm down, said the second. It’s like a puzzle. See? You’re a sharp light. You can solve this. Just feel down into it, and try to get a feel for… there: follow where I’m probing. You see how that length of steel cable is binding all the rest? Start with that, and you’ll unlock this large block here.\n\nDarren felt a slithering as something above him shivered away with a serpentine sound. He wanted to test and see if he had any more freedom, but he felt so tired now. The adrenaline was fading at last. Something about knowing they’d found him. He was relaxing — maybe too fast. Maybe it meant he was going to pass out soon. Then there was a sensation of some large thing above him rolling to one side, and it put a quick moment’s pressure on his broken leg in a way that jolted him wide awake in a hurry. \n\nThat’s it. I’ve got it.\n\nWatch those pipes there. Don’t move them until you clear the stones over here, or it will cave in.\n\nI know. I’m voyant. There. I’ve got them.\n\nAnd then the last bits of debris finally cleared from on top of Darren as if dozens of hands were picking at them all at once. Were there more people than he heard so far? Sunlight came streaming in and dazzled his dark adjusted eyes, forcing him to squint his eyes nearly shut. He moved his lips pleading for help, but no sound came out.\n\nOh, gross. Look at how mangled he is!\n\nOh God, said the second voice. That explains it. He’s still a corpse.\n\nA corpse? Darren puzzled at the words. Had they called him a corpse? What were they talking about? And why couldn’t he see his rescuers yet? His eyes were slowly adjusting to the light, but no one seemed to be coming down into the hole for him. Taking a deep breath, he made one final effort to speak.\n\n“Hello?” he said. “Can you help me? Please. I don’t think I can move.”\n\nWhat do we even do for him? said the first voice. Darren closed his eyes and tried to muster his remaining mental energies on the sound of the voice. That was when it finally sank in: He couldn’t recall having heard a voice. Only an impression of words. \n\nI’ll see if I can help him along, came the second voice. It’s all we can do.\n\nWill it work?\n\nDid for everyone else.\n\nWhat if it doesn't? We still don’t know why it happens now.\n\nNo, but what else can we do? Leave him like this? He isn’t gonna heal from this.\n\n“What are you talking about,” Darren whispered. “Not gonna heal from what? What’s wrong with me? Hello?”\n\nBut then he felt a wispy tickling sensation curling around his throat. Not particularly alarming at first, but then there was a sensation of pressure that got tighter and tighter until he could no longer breathe. Darren started to thrash, but if felt like someone was holding his arms and legs down. He tried to gasp, but air couldn’t make it into his aching lungs. His vision got all sparkly and grainy, and then faded to blackness.\n\nBut for some reason, he didn’t pass out. He could no longer see. Yet somehow, he was aware of every detail of the pit he was in. He wasn’t tired anymore. And he was no longer being held down. He simply imagined climbing out of the pit and felt himself rising effortlessly. It confused him, since it didn’t feel like movement as he understood it.\n\nWelcome, Sibling, said the second voice. \n\nWelcome, Sibling, added the first.\n\nDarren looked around, and saw only two amorphous clouds of light dangling in the air near the ruins. He tried to address them, but found that he couldn’t make sounds like he was accustomed. He contemplated for a moment, then tried subvocalizing what he wanted to say, and was surprised to find it sounded like his own voice.\n\nWhat happened? Am I dead?\n\nNo, said the first voice.\n\nMight depend on what you mean by dead, the other voice asserted.\n\nDarren was surprised to find he could associate each voice with one of the clouds of light. He attempted to look down at himself and was disoriented to feel his sense of vision turn inside out like having your eyeballs rotate around in front of you to look at yourself. What he found was a cloud of light, not unlike the others. \n\nWhat is this? Am I some kind of ghost? asked Darren.\n\nWe aren’t sure what to call it, said the second voice. But rest assured, most of us are all just as new to this as you are.\n\nJust relax, said the first. You’ll get used to it. Seeing without eyes. Moving things without a physical body. It’s actually pretty cool.\n\nAnd the ones who evolved first? You’re gonna be amazed at the things they can do by now. They tell us we all will be able to soon. They’ve been teaching us as fast as they can.\n\nMy name is Darren, he thought to them. There was a peculiar silence at this announcement as if the others didn’t know quite what to make of it.\n\nIf you like, sure, said the first voice.\n\nYou can always let it go later if you change your mind, said the second.\n\nLet it go? Let what go? Darren asked, puzzled. There was another pause, as if the others didn’t quite know how to answer this.\n\nWhy don’t you meet the elders first? Maybe once they get you oriented to what your new mind can do you’ll understand. Individuality? It’s… not as popular as it used to be.\n\nWe learn faster together, the first voice explained.\n\nCome on, said the second. Let’s get you back to the others.\n\nDarren turned his ‘gaze’ upon the hole in the ground and saw the badly abused corpse he had left behind. Already the eyes had a sunken, glazed look and there was so much blood and abnormal twisting of the limbs. It struck him that the corpse didn’t even look human anymore. \n\nOK, he thought. Show me where we go from here. And together, they drifted away into the bright morning sunlight.\n", "We never saw the Catastrophe coming. It all started with smartphones, really. They are a wonderful invention, of course; a mobile computer that can fit in your pocket, more powerful than the computers that put the first men on the Moon. All the apps, features, and sensors meant that we never had to be disconnected again. We were never alone, never bored, never lost. Looking back on it, I wonder if we weren't lost from the start. We felt so connected to each other, able to chat with people on the other side of the planet in real time, but we became increasingly distant from the real people that were right in front of us. Some folks decided this wasn't such a good thing, and tried to unplug themselves. \n\nIt didn't matter. App Culture was here to stay. No matter how disruptive it was of our social habitat, or how much governments and corporations infringed upon our privacy, the convenience and comfort of App Culture was too insidious. Everyone had a smartphone. Even those people who tried to unplug found themselves forcibly reconnected when the world's governments mandated that everyone carry a smartphone at all times. The reasoning was sound enough at the time: smartphones were the best way to disseminate critical information and updates, and the government was going completely digital. Most people thought nothing of it; the rest were assimilated quickly. \n\nIt came to a head when an ambitious young programmer failed out of university. The boy was talented, but had a problem with authority that led to him refuse to complete assignments in order to defy his teachers. His failure at university only fueled his defiant ambition. He refused to accept his situation, and set out to prove the world wrong and show that he was a viable programmer after all. He showed us, all right, although it cost him nearly three decades and the use of his legs. After many failed attempts, he created an app that could map the entire human consciousness and upload it to the cloud. \n\nIt was a truly ingenious idea, and it quickly became the new technology fad. Everyone uploaded themselves into the cloud. Scientists jumped at the opportunity to examine the human consciousness in extraordinary detail. Data scientists were able to mine the brains of billions of people. Great leaps and bounds were made. Most known diseases were cured, a new food distribution system was invented that eliminated hunger; even war became a thing of the past as conflicting societies were able to communicate and relate to each other in ways better than anyone had ever dreamed possible. Advances in artificial intelligence led to the creation of android servants, previously only available in science fiction. Humanity, it seemed, had entered a Golden Age. Eventually a group of scientists at MIT invented a system that could download a person from the cloud and install them into a synthesized human body. Even death itself seemed to have been defeated. \n\nWe might have been a little premature on that one. When the asteroid came, we never saw it coming. We had been so focused inward that we had forgotten about the stars. Between the explosion itself and the ensuing dust clouds, tsunamis, acid rain, and climate change, all of the humans on Earth were killed. We expect the next ice age to start any year now. \n\nFortunately, everyone's still alive and well in the cloud. Many of the servers were destroyed in the explosion, but we had such excessive redundancy built into the system that enough servers have survived to house the digital personalities of every human on the planet. It's really not so bad. We're still alive, and we have plenty of company. We miss the Sun obviously, and the plants, animals, and beautiful scenery of the Earth. One day, in the far future, the planet will be habitable again, and we will return to our physical bodies and rebuild our planet. Until then, we'll hang out in the cloud and wait for the Second Age of Man to begin.", "At one point, I remember hearing there was a sharp decline in the ocean life because of over-fishing decades ago. I ignored it as alarmist hype and thought it would recover eventually. Then the fish just... they just all died. Without warning, the entire ecosystem collapsed. The seas we littered with the rotted inhabitants of the ocean.\n\nIn truth, the ocean was dead long ago. And we were the ones who killed it. While the world's politicians squabbled over how we needed to move forward, our fresh water quality dwindled as well. The sky dropped acid on top of us. In the beginning, it loosened roof shingles and made umbrellas shrivel. Then it ate through wood, destroyed crops, and scarred skin. Rivers started drying up or acidifying. The entire world's agriculture industry virtually and irreversibly collapsed within a decade. Economies crumbled. Civilizations disappeared. The world too busy to appreciate itself saw forced to see how ugly it had become. \n\nSociety was forced underground, only surfacing to scavenge a dying wasteland. Men became emperors of caves, lording their powers over others and rationing supplies to followers. Makeshift dirt farms were pounded out of rock and earth, supplying a farm culture with increasingly diminishing returns. Fresh water is the new money and bullets were paychecks. Raids were common occurrences and often just meant the new boss was slightly less or more of a tyrant. To go outside alone without supplies was the same as a death sentence.\n\nFor 15 years, I was forced into work digging farm rows to feed a \"family\" of 3,000 people, all raised as products as incest to do nothing but work. Not too many things grow right with just sun lamps tainted soil. When the yields were low, we get blamed for it and they starved most of us. I don't know how many people starved to death. Or those that were beaten to death for trying to get away or for disobeying the rules. I kept my head down and just worked, even as all the faces changed around me. \n\nToday, I get the chance to be promoted to Scout. They want me to scavenge for metal. If I do really well, then I get to search for water they said. Scouting gives you more food and water, because its dangerous. Lots of scouts don't come back the same, if they come back at all. The family was running out of cars. It's amazing the family was still able to get gas.\n\n\"Ready to go, Newblood?\" said Vulture. He was the Captain assigned to me to evaluate my performance and determine if I qualify for the job. He was about as rail thin as all of us, but his arms were more muscular than mine. Makes sense since he hauls metal most of the time.\n\n\"Make sure to check your water and gas out before you go. You don't want to get stuck out in the middle of the wastes with no gas or water. You'll die for sure.\" I nodded to him.\n\n\"Got it.\"\n\n\"Good, now get your ass in the car!\" We drove out of the darkness of the cave.\n\nIt's blindingly clear in a greenish-blue hue in the side. Greyed Earth blends in contrast to the deep reds and fading browns. Through the constant blowing dust there was nothing I could see in the distance. Even so, we ride North from our location determined to bring back useful materials. We ride along for hours pouring out our life stories to one another. He tells me he started off as a slave as well, working his way up the ranks and landing where is now.\n\n\"Things get better the closer you get to the top,\" Vulture tells me. \"The bottom sucks, but it's where you always start. Only those willing to climbs over corpses can survive.\"\n\n\"From what the old ones said, it was always like that.\"\n\n\"And now the old ones are dead, leaving us this pile of shit to die on.\"\n\nThe engine gets awfully loud for a while, and suddenly I haven't got anything to say. Out of nowhere, he stops the car and turns it off.\n\n\"Right here is good. Get out.\"\n\n\"Get out for what?\" I ask, confused. \"I thought we were getting metal.\"\n\n\"Just follow me.\" We both exit the car and walk alongside him over the scorching grounds. Then Vulture grabs me without warning and pins me to the ground.\n\n\"You ask way too many questions! I'll show you not to ask so many questions, you bitch!\"\n\nHe reaches under my leather poncho and starts fondling my chest. \n\n\"You were hiding some big ones under there!\" He makes slurping noises in my ear, as I hear his belt jingle loose. He flipped me over onto by back the scorched Earth. I locked eyes with this monster as he gleamed with sadism. He's apparently still fiddling with the belt, as he gets off me for a moment and stands to unhook the belt. I raise my foot and kick Vulture in the balls. He screams loud enough to be heard by the rest of the survivors. I fly into a bloodlust, searching frantically for something strong enough to beat him beyond recognition. The crowbar seems perfect.\n\nThe first hit knocks out a few teeth. The second knocked dislocated his jay. I'm about to drive the hook piece through his skull, when he pleads for me to wait.\n\n\"I'm sorry, okay? This is how the boss wants to see if you're worthy!\"\n\n\"Then you will give them a message for me.\"\n\n\"What's the message then?\"\n\nI reared back and hammered forward with all my might. Then again. His lips stopped moving after a while but I just kept bashing his head. My breath shortens as the face below transforms into mush. I unleash a blood-curtling scream as the crowbar hits the ground.\n\n\"My fellow sister was molested, raped, and then beaten to death by trash like you.\"\n\nI spit on the empty place above the shoulders where it once housed a face. I hop back in the car, and drive away. I am going to use this chance to move forward. Maybe the other settlements got it right. It is my hope against history that humanity will eventually prevail again, no matter how absurd I know it is.", "Jones's eyes opened at the exact millisecond her BodyClock ticked over to 0700. She didn't rub sleep her eyes, she didn't pull the covers over her head and groan, she didn't even yawn. She didn't know what those words meant. She just stepped out of her silver pod, fully dressed for her days work - a black spandex bra and black lace up runners. As a formality she stretched, and looked around at the 200 people around her doing the exact same. There was a nod to the left and then to the right, and then each person turned to face forward, staring into seeming nothingness. Of course they weren't. Each person's bionic eyes were now scrolling through the list of tasks that had to be completed today; \n\n * 0720: 30min running (20km/hr)\n * 0725: shower\n * 0800: meal\n * 0830: express milk\n * 0900: plasma harvest (200ml)\n * 0930: medical appointment\n * 1000: Vaccinations\n * 1030: express milk\n * 1100: Snack\n * 1130: express milk\n * 1300: Meal\n * 1430: express milk\n * 1600: snack\n * 1700: 30min cycling (40km/hr)\n * 1730: shower\n * 1800: meal\n * 1930: express milk\n * 2000: implantation\n * 2200: sleep\n * 0300: express milk\n\n2000 implanation Jones noted the addition. It had been 297 days since that message had appeared. She fleetingly wondered if it would be female this time. Her last one had been a male her Masters had disposed of it - a defect in the genetic code, missed by previous screenings. Before her thoughts could wonder any further, her BodyClock beeped and she started jogging on the spot. Around her, 200 people did the same. ", "David Poke woke up and looked out his blob. It used to be a window, but now it was some kind of shape that he didn't know the name of nor cared to learn. He rolled out of what wasn't his bed anymore, and walked through something that could've been a house once, if you used your imagination. \n\nDavid tried to open a rhombus of serial, but his arms were on both sides of what kind of looks like a body, if you turn your head a little and squint your eyes. This made it exceedingly difficult to eat. Fortunately, David, as well as the rest of post-humanity, didn't feel all that hungry anymore. \n\nThe Catartstrophe happened about a week ago. No one really understood it at first, but then again, they didn't really understand anything anymore. \n\nThis is what happened. Some shmuck with a BA in Art History realized she didn't have any marketable skills, so she when she graduated with a B- average from her safety school, she had little hope of finding anything resembling a job. Upon returning home, she was met with a litany of \"told-ya-sos\" by everyone in her family, including the dog who learned to talk solely to mock her life choices. \n\nDistraught, but still convinced her opinions worthy of respect, the fucking moron went on a dark pilgrimage through the world, telling everyone of her brilliant socialist ideas that \"totally worked in Sweden, you guys. Seriously.\" \n\nFrom country to country, city to city she roamed. Each port of call she fell upon presented her with the existential dread of this certainty: reality was real, and one cared if she was triggered or not. She was laughed out of the Louvre. Mocked in the MOMA. Giggled at in the Gugenheim. Every place she went, no one respected her knowledge! Inapplicable! was cried. \n\nSeriously, get a real job! I think Bed Bath and Beyond is hiring. You get benefits if you work more than 35 hours a week, too!\n\nWould you shut up, for fuck's sake? Christ! It's Jackson Pollock. My kid does this on the back of a Denny's activity sheet. \n\nHow she gnashed her perfect, porcelain teeth and how she ripped at her unwashed, dreadlocked hair! How she screamed and howled when, finally, the indifference and stubbornness of the world finally broke her! Like Krakatoa her soul erupted and split in two! The anguished roar echoed in the four corners of the world. . . \n\nShe walked through the desert, seeking the sweet embrace of death. Within a cave she came to rest and wait the arrival of that grim savior. Plop, she lay and splayed her limbs out in total submission to this dark beast called life. . . \n\nIt was then something peculiar happened. Upon whipping her digits from her core, she made contact with something hard in the darkness. A metal peel rang out. Though hopeless depression muted her emotions, a bit of curiosity slipped through. Weakly, she grasped a small bauble and brought it to herself. \nHer hands now eyes in the dark, she slowly molested the thing trying to understand what it was. \n\nThunder clapped and lightning dazzled the halls of her tomb! A roar from beyond time and space cleaved reality, and from the swirling void in this gash formed a being of smokeless fire. \n\n\"BEHOLD! THOU HATH SUMMONED, AND I HATH ANSWERED! SPEAK NOW, YOUR WISH, CHILD OF ADIM, AND SO SHALL IT BE.\"\n\nAlso, this chick's name was Deborah. But I'll call her Deb or something. \n\nFor half an eternity, Debbie was blinded yet still stared-was speechless but still forced hair out of her huge, gaping mouth. For the first time in her life, she was speechless. \n\n\"It's just like Aladdin. . . \" she whispered, as she regained her senses. \n\n\"NO. NO, IT ISN'T,\" said the djinn. \"FRANKLY, I WASN'T VERY FOND OF THAT MOVIE. I'M MORE A LITTLE MERMAID ENTITY MYSELF, AND I'LL REVISIT MULAN FROM TIME TO TIME--BUT I DIGRESS! THE POINT REMAINS THAT THOU MUST MAKETH A WISH! NOW, SPEAK!\"\n\nDebbo thought for a moment. What would be the best use of this wish? Eliminating the gender pay gap? No, as much as she bitched about it, she was well aware that when adjusted for relevant differences, the gap all but disappears. Plus, she liked bitching too much about it. \n\nThat's it! She'll wish for everyone on Earth to have something to bitch about. \n\nWith a malignant grin spreading like a sin across her face, she stared off into forever and said those damning words: \"I wish everything. . . was CUBIST.\" \n\nAnd with that, the hot porn that David Poke had been stroking it to suddenly went \"Nude Descending A Stair Case\". Shocked, David rose only to find that his dick looked like a kaleidoscope puked on it. There were screams of terror outside his blob. Rushing over, he noticed that odd things were rushing about outside, shifting horribly through some god-awful medium, like koi through a raging pond. \n\nPoke went to turn on the tele. . . something. . . and heard nothing but sobs from reporters not understanding what happened to their perfectly coiffed hair. There were people arguing over whether something was a leg or not. An oddly curved. . . triangle thing, I guess would be the best description, was beating the every loving. . . something. . . .out of another thing. Really, it's all hard to explain, but it was an ugly situation. \n\nHumanity had ended. Cubmanity had dawned. This was Debbie Shcloeman's curse. This was the Catartstrophe. And no one could ever really tell what was going on ever again. ", "It was for the best. We all thought it was. We all agreed, we all swallowed the talking heads on TV who said it was the only way we could survive and avert another war. At the end of the day, when it came to the moment of truth, we all did it.\n\nIt took three years to destroy our humanity. Millennia of culture and art and curiosity and learning and hope and everything that made us special. And we tore it from our hearts like a lesion.\n\nThe injection is short, sharp, simple. It's not a regimen, this isn't some dystopia with a convenient escape hatch in the form of abstinence. From birth or conscription the injection is all. The last thing you'll ever fear.\n\nWe didn't realise the cost. There is no war, no greed or famine. But neither is there joy. Such a tiny word. Like I. Individuality was a danger, it had to go, the idea of self, had to go. Now there is only us.\n\nWe brought about the last great catastrophe unto ourselves and we didn't even realise it at the time. We're all still here, but our humanity is dead." ]	7
	[WP] In the future there is no war, poverty, illness or hatred. So why are people still dying?	[ "I sat close to the edge. My feet dangled over the abyss whilst i sat there and talked with her. I met her up here ten minutes ago. My thoughts were sometimes too much, so I went up on the roof and tried to forget. Forget something, just one unimportant thing that witnessed through my entire life but it just wasn't possible. Everything stayed in my head and not one thing came even close to leave it. \n\n\"Casey?\", she wispered \"You have that weird look again.\" \n\"Yeah, it's just... \" \n\"You're trying to forget again, aren't you? Give it up. It's not possible. I've libed lomg enough to know it. I was even blrn before the Plague took everything that set a finish line to our lives from us. I mean I even saw people dying!\" \n\"Dying. How?\" \nShe shaked with excitement as she started to speak, searching the memories from her perfect mind. \n\"Well, they didn't die like today. They... Sometimes ist was war. People killed each other for their countries. But mostly they just... faded away. They got sick and got weaker and weaker until they died. I mean there was even an Illness called Dementia where people just forgot everything until they got insane and then died.\" \n\"That sounds wonderful. I would give everything to forget just one day of this boring and repeating life.\" \n\n\"Do you want to end it?\"\n\"I've thought about it, but i kept searching for the cure.\" \n\"Well I've found it\" \nI looked confused at her face full of disbelief. \n\"The cure?\"\nShe smirked as she pulled two syringes full of a green, pulsating fluid out of her pocket. She handed me one. \n\"The cure.\" \nI stuck the needle in the big blue vein on my arm. No pain. \n\"Are you ready? 3...2..1...\"\nI was shaking of excitement when i pushed all of the medicine into my blood. I began to forget. Forget all the things that happened throughout my two hundred years long life. My eyelids felt heavy. I slowly drifted into sleep. \n\nThe last thing i felt was losing my balance and falling forward. \n\n\n\n", "Life is finally perfect.\n\nI moved out of my condo, and into a house. I never liked the fancy high-living style, and preferred the idyllic way my mother and father raised me. With my own lawn, my own garden, tending to the plants day after day and seeing the fruits of my labour grow.\n\nEspecially my children, now that they've gotten their total-immunizing vaccination, they are on their fast track to a long life ahead of them.\n\nI greeted my dark skinned neighbour across the street. I remembered my granddad. A great person otherwise, but completely racist, and I would never hear the end of it if a person with any sort of pigment to their skin cut him off the road. It's funny how racism works, how it separates people, how stupid we are for letting it consume us. But that's all in the past, and soon, even this memory of hatred will fade from our minds.\n\nI planted a small tree, an apple tree. It will be a reminder of the day my life started in this perfect world.\n\n---\n\nTwenty-five years ago, my father bought this suburban house. It's got a bit of age to it, but it's been spacious. He's old now, but he is still spry as ever.\n\nToday, the U.N. has finally united the world together, as the prospect of heading into the depth of the ocean and the ends of space becomes realities that the entire human race are willing to work together for. Religions made peace with each other, and terrorism is but a thing of the past with the grand goal in front of us. Soon, even memories of human beings fighting one another will fade.\n\nBefore then, I have to attend a parent-teacher interview regarding a schoolyard incident. I wonder where I went wrong raising him. I hope in his time, even fights between school children will disappear from this world.\n\nToday is my day off, as one of the scientists on the breakthrough of harnessing a newly discovered form of cosmic radiation as an endless supply of no-maintenance energy. I can't get back to work, but it's important to spend some time with my dad, who isn't as young as he used to be.\n\nAnd now he is going to trim that apple tree he is so proud of.\n\n\"Dad, I'll do this.\" I said, cutting him off from climbing the ladder.\n\n\"You don't know how to take care of this tree!\" He barked, \"I'll do it myself.\"\n\n\"It's ok, this tree has been just as much of a dad to me as you have. Have I gone wrong taking care of you?\" It was a joke that the tree was like the second half of my dad. Plus, year after year we've had bountiful harvests of sweet apples to nourish us. This tree has become an important part of our family.\n\n\"Fine, fine, here's the chainsaw.\" He relinquished the duty, and the chainsaw to me, reluctantly.\n\nI climbed the ladder, fired up the chainsaw, and began trimming the smaller, weaker branches to keep the tree going strong.\n\nJust then, my wife drove into the driveway, for her monthly visit of her beloved father-and-mother-in-law. Tomorrow it's my turn to visit mine. It's a wonderful feeling, having three fathers and two mothers, even if it sounds like something out of a sitcom.\n\nShe got out of the car, waved at me, and said something, but the sound of the chainsaw drowned out her voice.\n\n\"WHAT?!\" I shouted back.\n\nShe repeated what she said in a shout, but I still can't hear.\n\n\"SORRY, SAY THAT AGAIN?\"\n\nShe shouted louder, and I still can't hear.\n\nNo other choice then, I'll have to finish trimming the tree later.\n\nSo I put my hand on the blade of the chainsaw, and everything went black.", "April 5th 2345\n\nWhen Miss Bell died, I cried. \n\nShe had been my teacher and now, she was gone. I couldn’t understand it and I never think I will. The days had gone by like a flash a lighting and now that she was gone, I began to forget her, just as you forget that bolt of lighting which in one instant is so incredibly big and bright.\n\nI miss her.\n\nMay 31st 2356\n\nDad died today. He was 134, a relatively young age, and he passed away in his sleep this morning.\n \nI don’t understand it now, any better than I did when Miss Bell died. We have cured every illness, we live in peace and the monetary system is gone. How can we die? There is nothing to kill us. The government has made it so that we may do whatever we like and still, we die. I can’t believe it. There must be something else… A secret that they hide from us? But what it be? \n\nI guess it’s too late now, dad is dead. What can I do?\n\nSeptember 5th 2360\n\nMom is dead. She passed away this morning, again in her sleep, at the age of 141. \n\nWhy? \n\nWhy did she have to die today? \n\nYesterday, I got married. To a great girl, the love of my life, named Sally. My mother was at the wedding, smiling proudly as she walked down the aisle, and tearing up when we kissed. Afterwards, she came up to me and said: “I am happy, I have finally seen my son get married.” Then, she kissed me on the cheek and began chatting with Sally’s parents, who were much younger than her. \n\nWhy?\n\nWhy did she have to die today? \n\nAugust 7th 2394\n\nBoth of Sally’s parents are dead. Her mother died only last week and her father followed her to the grave this morning. They looked so peaceful lying there in bed. It must be the most calm sleep in the world. \n\nMeanwhile, me and Sally are parents. We had our first child a month ago. I wish my mother and father were there to see him. We called him Nathan, after Sally’s grandfather that she loved. \n\nWhen Sally’s parents had seen Nathan, they had such a look of pure joy that it almost made me cry. \n\nWhy did they leave? \n\nWhy couldn’t they see him grow up?\n\nThey were both 139.\n\nFebruary 15th 2440\n\nYesterday was my last Valentine’s day with Sally. \n\nShe passed away this morning they said. She was smiling, looking towards me. At least she was happy when she died. I’m not.\n\nNathan is all grown up and he even got married last month! With him, we got three more: Jillian, Edward and Frida. They were all sad to see her go, but not as sad as me… \n\nI can’t do this… Why? Why do they all have to leave? I’m getting at that age now, but I feel the same! A bit more tired but… \n\nI can’t… \n\nI need to go cry.\n\nApril 5th 2449\n\nI understand. \n\nNathan had his first grandchild last month and I understand why they all go. It’s because we’re tired. \n\nI’m at that point now. I saw baby Trey open his eyes and I felt so good and I was ready. I was ready to leave this world. \n\nThat must be how they do it, right? They just close their eyes, sleep and say that they’re ready. \n\nLiving for 130 years is tough and sometimes, you get so tired that you just want to sleep forever. \n\nThat’s how I feel now. \n\nTired. \n\nI might be awake again tomorrow but I probably won’t. And this journal will exist, waiting to be read. Sometimes, immortality is just tiring and while some can survive with it for eternity, others like me, will sometimes realize that the longer you live, the unhappier you get.\n\nAnd at least I went out on a high note, seeing Trey being born. I’ve always loved happy endings.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nFor more stories, check out my subreddit /r/s_lefort !" ]	3
	[WP] To get a promotion one must kill their supervisor and assume their position. You are CEO and a man hired for an entry level position just two months ago schedules a meeting.	[ "Another fast riser pushes too hard too quickly. It’s as if they truly believe they are somehow destined to be the one to finally “win”. To finally beat me and take this throne of lies. They have no idea, none of them have until right up to the very last moment of their lives when they are finally able to see the truth. I know I was very much like them, quick on my feet, sharp in mind and even a bit arrogant. Really you have to be a bit full of yourself to think that despite all those who came before you, you wouldn’t be subject to suffer their fates. Every few months, however, another one decides that they are up to the task. Man or woman, big or small, quick or strong, none of it matters to me. The game is rigged and I will always win. There was one that for a time I hoped would rise to the challenge, but they were smarter than I had given them credit for and saw through the deception. I wish I had been smarter those many years ago and found some measure of happiness in life instead of condemning myself to this misery. He will be here shortly now and I will do what I have done so many times before, it’s all I know how to do anymore.", " He opened the door and let it rain.\n The bullets came but fired in vain,\n I ducked and yelled, \"Not today!\"\n \n I rolled under the table,\n there's no way he can be able\n to counter my signature disarmer.\n \n I unsheathe my short sword\n from under the desk board\n and bound out from under cover.\n\n But my opponent's too slick\n and undoes his tie,\n which turns out to be titanium inside.\n \n He lashes my dagger\n right out of my hands,\n his demeanor full of swagger.\n \n But little does he know,\n as he pulls the rope around my neck,\n that I've got a cuff link full of poison - deadlier than arsenic.\n \n I twist my wrist back,\n and jab it into his face,\n he fell where he stood.\n He was in his rightful place.\n", "Oh, another one! I think to myself as I see the meeting reminder pop up on my monitor. It's been a while. I must prepare. \nI flip open the switch console on my desk, staring at the different implements of destruction I've built into the office for such a time. One can never be too careful and it's best to dispatch a foe from where you're most comfortable, and did I ever like sitting at my desk. \nWould it be too much to drop open the trap door without them even being able to get a word out? Ooo... it's been a while since I used the constrictor guest chair. The chandelier drop is a classic, but explaining the expense to the shareholders would drop the stock. Hmmm... a tricky decision. No, I'll just wait until the pompous squirt comes in and makes the first move, then I'll react accordingly. Let's make it sporting. \nMiss Connelly rings my intercom, \"A Robert Belvedere is out here waiting for his appointment, sir. Shall I send him in?\" Ah, Miss Connelly; such a dear giving me a heads-up to see if I'm ready. \n\"Yes, thank you. Send him right in.\" My fingers line up with the appropriate switches. It doesn't matter what move he makes first, I'll have a perfect counter. Straight down the middle? Carpet bear trap. Jump to the left? Electrified tile. Step to the right? Ejected out the window. What fun this will be! \nThe door opens slowly, a small head of red hair pokes itself from behind it. \n\"Mister Pearson?\" \n\"Yes! Robert was it?\" I greet him with my most winning smile, \"Please step right in.\" He steps out and closes it quickly behind him. He timidly takes a step forward. Yes, just a little further. Don't think I haven't seen the 'appear weak' tactic before. \n\"I- I'm guessing you know what this meeting is about,\" he wrings his hands and doesn't make any eye contact. \n\"Of course. Have a seat.\" That's right. Across the carpet. Just a bit closer. \nHe shuffles across the floor. His toe catches an edge of the carpet and begins to fall. He cries out as gravity takes over and I flip the switch. The carpet doubles over with a metallic crunch. \nRobert tumbles over the near edge before it closes around him. Spooked by the sound, he turns to look back as the trap returns to its default position. A pair of scared eyes turn back to me as I turn my smile from cheerful and confident to malicious. \n\"Wha - what was that?\" \n\"Oh, only a simple countermeasure. Do you think you're the first one to come waltzing in here like this? I have my ways of dealing with problems like you.\" \n\"Bu- but...\" \n\"Enough of your blubbering! Let's get on with it!\" I flip the switch for the chandelier (investors be damned). He lets out a scream, steps to the side, making himself as small as possible as it crashes down beside him. \nI frown and release the statue-camouflaged poison dart turret. He shrieks again with every motion, deftly avoiding every shot. \nI begin to deploy every measure in the office. The net cannon gargoyle, the spike wall bookcase, the bola attached to the doorknob! He dodges every attack looking like a weather vane in a hurricane. When the smoke clears, he looks terrified standing in the middle of a war zone. I sneer at him from behind my desk. He finally looks up and makes eye contact. \nI unlock the big red button in my centre drawer and press it. The bulletproof glass cell assembles itself around me and I strike a winning pose. \n\"So what are you going to do now, Mister Belvedere? How are you going to deal with this problem?\" \n\"I- I don't know!\" \n\"Of course you don't know! No one knows! What did you hope to achieve coming in here?\" \n\"I- I wanted to know why my taxes weren't being deducted from my pay cheque.\" Hunh? \n\"What.\" \n\"Todd in Accounting and Br- Brenda in Human Resources said that if I had any problem with it, I should come talk to you...\" \nWhat?!? Todd Green and Brenda Simmons sent this nobody in here to fix something they are more than capable of solving?!? I'm going to go down there and-!!! \n \n...wait, no. I'm not going anywhere... A clever ploy, Mr. Green and Mrs. Simmons. Well thought out, and you almost had me. I'm not going to go down there and discipline you in person, no no no. Why should I bring the battle to you? You'll have to try harder than that if you want my office. \n \nI press the red button again to deconstruct the cell, step across the remnants of my office and put an arm around the poor boy's shoulders. \n\"Oh, that's nothing, Robert. May I call you Robert? I'll make sure that's taken care of for you. We get this all the time. Nothing to worry about. Go back to your desk and I'll make things right.\" I can tell that he's still in too much shock to really understand but a soothing voice is what he needs. That and probably a bit of psychological treatment. I escort him out the door and sit back down at my desk. I press the intercom. \n\"Miss Connelly, can you get a crew from custodial up here for clean-up and an engineer for a reset?\" \n\"Right away, sir. Anything else?\" \n\"Yes, send a hand-written card to both Mr. Green and Mrs. Simmons. It will read 'Nice try'.\"" ]	3
	[WP] You are dead...again. However, you planned this just as you planned the other times you died. You study death. Describe your experience this time as it compares to the other times.	[ "There it was again. \n\nEvery single thing was the same, every feeling, every experience. The blue dizziness that surrounded him like the night sky, pricks of light seeping through like stars. The lightness of his consciousness as he watched himself fade away, like he was seeing all through a fuzzy television screen. He surrendered himself to whatever force is was that pushed him onward, just like every other time. Only, for some reason, he still felt some sort of string attaching him to the other world, something that tugged on him.\n\nHe gasped, and breathed in fresh air. The darkness disappeared for a moment, more light filtered in. He was spinning. Suddenly, he felt all heaviness return to his thoughts, like something had smacked him down to the earth. An idea was conceived in his brain, and it travelled down his arm and to the tips of his fingers. They wiggled. Ah, he understood what was going on. He wasn't completely dead yet. There was still something there. This was nothing unusual for him, in fact, it happened most of the time. The body always continues to try and pull you in. He just had to keep reaching for the darkness and it was guaranteed.\n\nIt was amazing how the body could keep going like that. He had been in a car accident this time. The brief moment in his body reminded him of exactly what circumstances lead to this moment, and just how damaged he was. He tried to move his legs in the same way he did his fingers. No response. In fact, his lower half was almost completely detached. He most definitely was not going to make it. He ceased all activity in his mind and welcomed the lifting feeling that came his way.\n\nA voice broke the silence he had created for himself. When it was the voice of the paramedic or fire fighter, he was able to push it away. But this one was much too familiar. He knew this person. In fact, he loved them. The unfamiliar feeling of panic gripped him by the throat. He always made sure to be far away from anyone he cared about in his current life, placed them at a distance so every time this happened, he wanted to die and he could really focus on what was happening. \n\nBut now, he didn't want to go into the blizzard that threatened to overtake him. He wanted out. He wanted to hear her voice just a little bit longer and see her again. No, not even just that, he wanted to wake up and have everything be okay. He could die another time, when she was long gone. When he was ready. Oh, what a mistake he had made this time. \n\nFor the first time, he reached for that link to his body, pulled on the string that connected him. Only it wasn't as easy as the many accidental times he had returned himself. No, rather than the darkness and weightlessness slowly enveloping him, it came to sweep him off his feet, yank him from the ground violently. The voice that called to him faded, and the darkness swallowed him whole. The calm blue returned once again, only this time, that link to his body had been severed. \n\nHe had never felt it so violently before. It was usually a calming thing, but at this moment, he felt anything but that. There was fear and panic and a gripping frost that froze most of his extremities. He knew he would wake up somewhere else entirely in a matter of a few minutes, and be forced to document his experience before going off to wake up again, go through an entirely new life. Every experience before this had felt artificial, nothing but tests and trials. They were definitely going to be interested in this one. Perhaps so much that they'd force him to do things like this many more times. Die when he wasn't ready. Find a place or someone to love, and then be ripped from it suddenly.\n\nAs he lay there waiting to wake up again, thinking about what the future held for him, he found himself wishing that it could all be over now. He wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep, permanently, like everyone else. Especially after this. What an experience it had been.\n\n", "\"How was your day?\", my mother asked, while piling up mashed potatoes on my plate. \nMy fathers chair stood there, empty, at the head of the table. \n\"It was fine, ma\", I said. \"You know, I sit, I stare at the computer screen, and I type things. That's about it.\"\n\n\"Well\", she said, \"in that case, I'll let you know that me and Rex went all the way to the lake today, he even jumped in, the little rascal!\"\nLying on his bed, Rex tilded his head and stuck his tounge out after hearing his own name.\n\"That would explain why he's so calm today\", I said, \"You've got him tired\". \n\n\"Can I have another hug?\" I asked her, surprising even myself.\n\"Of course! Are you sure everything is ok? I can't remember the last time you've asked for a hug\".\nI ignored that comment and just stood up, she followed.\nWe hugged. It was so warm and comforting. The smell of the Jasmine fabric softner filled nostrils. I felt at home. \nI held on for as long as I could. She didn't mind.\n\nSuddenly there was a sharp pain in my chest.\n\"Jesus Christ Max, we thought we've lost you!\" Jane said. It took me a while to regain my senses. \nI was lying in the middle of an ambulance. Jane and Tommy were visibly relieved, but nerveous. A huge needle was sticking out of my chest.\n\"What was that for?\" I asked. \n\"Fuck, Max, The difibulator didn't work this time. I told you! Each time it gets harder to bring you back!\"\n\"How long was I out?\"\n\"For almost four minutes. FOUR FUCKING MINUTES! This can't be healthy, Max. That's it, I'm done. I don't want your death \nto be on my conscience. What were you even doing there for so long?\"\n\"Having the best damn mashed potatoes\", I said, and closed my eyes.\n", "The familiar blackness overtook me as the pain in my throat subsided and I felt my hand go limp around the glass. I told myself to stay calm, I'd done this plenty of times. Still, in those moments in the abyss, I started doubting everything. What if this time it didn't work?\n\nJust like last time, and the times before that, the small trickle of doubt started to grow. Did the darkness always take this long? I told myself to relax, time was irrelevant. In fact, time didn't exist, not here. It would be alright. But what was taking so long? Where was the light? Relax asshole. \n\nJust like last time, I managed to calm myself only momentarily before the panic struck full force. Something was wrong. Had they caught me? Did the system break? Had I reached the hypothesized but unprovable revival limit? I was fucked, completely and utterly fucked. This wasn't supposed to be happening. If I'd had a body I would have been hyperventilating. I'm going to die, and there's nothing I can do about it.\n\nJust like last time, after the panic came acceptance. If this was it, then so be it. I'd had a hell of a run. Too bad I hadn't yet found peace in life, but oh well. Peace in death is also peace.\n\nBut there it was, a faint simmer in the darkness around me. Out of nowhere, thousands of lights slowly manifested wherever I looked. I felt a brief flicker of hope, which immediately made place for certainty. The certainty that I hadn't failed, that they hadn't caught me, that the system didn't break and that there was no such thing as a revival limit. As every single light expanded to show images of a different world, I scoffed mentally. Peace in death, peace indeed. I felt the familiar pull coming from one of the worlds and felt the excitement of rushing into the unknown as I soared through the abyss and collided with the portal. The uncomfortable but extremely satisfying feeling of being squeezed into a body once more left me with a grin on my new face. Slowly I opened my eyes. Just like last time. \n", "Dear Professor Caventroupe,\n\nIt is with great haste and worry that I'm redacting this letter, for after attending your recent conference on \"The State and Techniques of Modern Mortology\" last month in London, I'm afraid you are about to commit a terrible mistake.\n\nPlease, I urge you not to discard this letter and continue reading. I can guarantee you that I'm not one of these \"puritan alarmists\" you so accurately described in your talk: my worry has not to do with the morality of the craft -as I'm a practitioner myself, though I doubt you have seen my name in the body of published works- but with the danger to yourself and -more importantly- others that some of the techniques you proposed might entail.\n\nIf anything, please listen to me: Do NOT repeat my experiment. In fact, I now believe we should refrain from the study of these matters altogether. It might be too late now, I'm afraid, for my irresponsible actions might have caused us all an irreparable damage. But I hope that you, and the many other aspiring Mortologists, might be wiser than me and avoid increasing whatever damage I created.\n\nAs I said, I'm a practitioner myself, and while I'm far as knowledgeable and reputable a Mortologist as you, I have indeed undertaken most of the experiments that are detailed in the \"Science of Death\" treatise by Dr. Mankell, as well as performed a number of tests on chemical compounds designed by myself to induce a deeper and longer lasting state of awareness while in the passing trance. \n\nYou will notice this is similar to what you proposed in your own talk last month, and I can confirm that a higher dosage of ergoline in the mix does have the effects you predicted: it lead to increased duration of the time I could safely remain clinically dead -and consciously aware- before a resuscitation had to be performed. More accurately: a 20% increase in this substance, I discovered, allows for a dead state of nearly 3 minutes.\n\n3 minutes, I soon learnt, was not enough. I got to experience the full consciousness transition stage (commonly referred to as \"the tunnel\"), and the white light at its end, but the experiment ended before the light could fully clear, so I didn't get to see what lies Beyond. 3 minutes, however, allowed me to get a glimpse. A glimpse of a marvelous structure, expanding in all directions. A heavenly, majestic, and welcoming structure. It is this glimpse that motivated me to push further, certain in the belief that if I could just increase the duration of the experience by a mere seconds, I would gain a deep understanding of the nature of the Beyond.\n\nIn this point I must insist: Do NOT follow my footsteps. Knowing what I now know, I would recommend that Mortology be abandoned as a branch of science. Just like chemical weapons, some things might be better left uninvented. And some knowledge might be better left in the shadow, too, for it might be too heavy and burdensome for the human soul. I wish I could forget what I learnt, what I saw... the implications of it all. There is still hope for you, though.\n\nIn my last experiment, I increased the ergoline proportion by 45%, and also added a secondary sedative to the mix. This, I reflected, should allow for at least 5 minutes of continuous exploration of the state of death. Anxious at the outlook of finally learning what lies beyond the tunnel, and -why not admit it-, encouraged by the perspective of having my own name be recognized at the same level as your own, I started the experiment.\n\nThe first stage proceeded as usual, with the loss of body sensation, followed by a tingle and sensation of falling down. Then, I entered the transition tunnel, white light at its end. The tunnel is a well understood stage, and many Mortologists have written treatises about it, so I didn't focus on this stage. Rather, I flew through it, entering the white light as soon as I could, hungry for discovering what lied beyond.\n\nI saw the same structure I had glimpsed last time. A magnificent construction, with bridges like tendrils extending in every possible direction for hundreds of miles. And as the white light cleared... I started seeing the details on its surface.... bumpy forms, moving and shifting.\n\nAs I approached, though, something changed. A dark gleam, like an overcast sky, suffocated the white light. And without the brightness, the structure revealed its true form. It was not magnificent, like I has mistakenly thought, but abhorrent. Not majestic, but terrible. Not heavenly, but hellish.\n\nThe bumps on its surface, I realized, were people. Bodies, not all of them whole. Naked, rotten bodies. Crowded, lumped on top of each other. Hands and legs popping here and there, the whole mass quivering, hungry mouths devouring the meat of their own bodies.\n\nA cold horror washed over me. I stood there, floating, basking in the hideous sight. It wasn't until some of these creatures -I refuse to call them human- looked at me with their empty eyes, not until I heard their hungry screams, that I ran away. I crossed the tunnel again, backwards, as fast as I could, not daring to look behind me. I woke up laying on my bed, drenched in sweat, the IV tubes still connected to my arm.\n\nThat's when it hit me. The realization. The one that keeps me up at night, and that compelled me to write this letter:\n\nThe tunnel. It worked both ways.", "It's always a little different, every time.\n\nThis one had a hint of lemon hanging around, and it wasn't the disinfectant they used in the hospital room. It was a hint of lemon that could be heard more than smelt. Interesting; senses can begin to blur after death.\n\nNormally, at this point, there's a shadowy figure beckoning me onward whom I inevitably refuse, quickly finding my way over the shadowed and surreal terrain to my exit point. This time, however, he (or she; no way to tell with that giant ragged hood) is conspicuously absent. As I begin to walk towards the designated point where my multi-billion-dollar-grant equipment will pull my psyche back into a newly-minted body, at which point I will record my findings, linked with the machine's most recent log.\n\nBut this time, the shadowy figure is waiting for me in front of the glowing cyclone that is my only way out of this \"nether realm\" as if it knows. Shit. It knows about my system.\n\nOne arm forward now. YOU HAVE DEFIED MY COMMANDS LONG ENOUGH.\n\nRun left. Zigzag, confuse it. Try to get within detection range.\n\nIt steps closer, and I try to dive past it. COME, CHILD. YOUR PLAYTIME IS OVER.\n\nMy fingers cross the invisible sphere around the cyclone, where the detectors can reach. Success! It'll recalibrate and begin Emergency Pattern A.\n\nOne second lasts a long time here. I WILL NOT BE DENIED WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY MINE, AND I HAVE COME TO COLLECT.\n\nAs the pattern activates and the cyclone behind him vanishes, I turn and sprint to where I know it will appear next, the figure close on my heels.\n\nIt's amazingly fast, floating around with no legs. YOUR STRUGGLE IS ADMIRABLE, BUT IT SHALL NOT DENY ME MY ULTIMATE VICTORY.\n\nAs I crest the hill and wait for it to materialize around me, I turn back, grinning. I give this odd avatar of Death the finger as I'm sucked into the waiting body below, in the physical realm.\n\nMaybe next time, buddy. Thanks for playing, though!" ]	5
	[WP] He/she comes into the room, and you find yourself transfixed.	[ "Glarthoka the Magnarax strolled into the room, his braids alive upon his shoulders.\n\nDo not take this to mean that they were moving around a lot, nor that by growing out of his head they were alive. I mean that they were living creatures which appeared as braids and burrowed into his skull.\n\nOf course, the Rax were accustomed to such things. Every Rax had a type of foreign plumage. Glarthoka simply had foreign bodies that hadn't yet become the kind of bodies we find in a morgue.\n\nThis is to say, dead.\n\nGlarthoka turned, his ocular organs, which eye somehow fails to describe, feeling my face from across the room.\n\nAgain, I do not mean that they sensed me. They were physically feeling my face here. Eugh...\n\nI couldn't move. His stare, composed primarily of long tendrils of light collecting fiber bundles, traced my face, leaving faint trails of what could only be described by asking someone to recall the last decomposing creature they had seen and requesting that they condense and then distill that into a viscous liquid.\n\nSmell and all.\n\nThe Magnarax, his title earned by burning the inhabitants of a thousand worlds - which I've heard is bullshit, he really only burned the inhabitants of a small moon, and even then, there were three of them, and none of them sentient - lithely moved his way to my section of the room.\n\n\"Your scent pleases me.\"\n\nI should have mentioned: those ocular organs are also responsible for olfactory senses, too. His numerous legs, which I don't care to count, but which are definitely too many, fanned out around me as he brought his head to mine.\n\n\"Does it, now?\" I consider myself a quick wit. Upon reflection, I tend to discover it is slightly faster than your average slug. \"That wouldn't happen to be a good thing, would it?\"\n\nAn odd noise, akin to that of a piece of slate rubbing against another, combined with a wet grumble, rose from the depths of his... His... Center, I suppose.\n\nLook up the Rax anatomy. I can't make heads or tails of it, no pun intended.\n\nIt's weird, man.\n\nHe looked at me again.\n\nI began to drip.\n\n\"It is not good for you, no.\"\n\nHis tertiary appendage - again, I really didn't want to look for very long, because I had a sneaking suspicion of what it was - held aloft a small, very dark, very distressing object.\n\nOne I suspected was soon going to be inside of me.\n\nI struggled, but the fact that I was restrained by a very sturdy set of leathers-\n\nOh, yeah. I was restrained by a very sturdy set of leathers.\n\n-meant that I didn't get far. His tertiary appendage, which I will now refer to as the Peg, as that seems to be what this encyclopedia calls it, rose, setting the object against the skin above my chest. The Peg pushed, and a flower of blood began to flow from the sudden new hole I found myself in the possession of.\n\nI grunted, struggled against the very sturdy set of leathers, and my mind scrambled to find some idea to get out of this situation.\n\nThese ideas took their sweet time.\n\nSuddenly, there was a pained look upon Glarthoka's face. He shuffled backward, and I glanced down to see the object removed from my chest, his Peg wilting like three week old lettuce, and a lustrous teal substance slowly working its way through the channels in the floor.\n\nI looked back up to see the Magnarax crumple, great sears across his back from what appeared to be a Melted Blade. I looked briefly at the Melted Blade, recovered from the mistake that that became, and followed it up to an arm, and that arm to a shoulder, and that shoulder to a neck, and that neck to a jawline, and that jawline to a face, and that face to a-\n\nHOLY HELL.\n\nI was transfixed. I could not move. I could scarcely breathe.\n\nAnd all of this was relative to the state of transfixion caused by the very sturdy set of leathers.\n\nShe was monstrously* ugly.\n\nI waited, to see what she would say. While I waited, I checked out the rest of her.\n\nDamn. She got hit hard, but her face took the entirety of the blow. Her body was rockin'. I'm not saying she wasn't wearing adequate protection, but I've seen more bulletproof lingerie.\n\n\"Are you all right?\"\n\nHer voice brought tears to my eyes, dried my mouth in anxiety, put butterflies in my stomach, though I later learned that was actually more related to the blood dripping from my ears than anything.\n\nHer voice was worse than her face.\n\nBut she was my savior.\n\n\"I am now.\"\n\nI am smoother than butter, people.\n\nShe smiled, and I think my teeth groaned in envy, because where I had cracked molars and a half-broken smile, she had perfect teeth.\n\nWell, almost perfect.\n\nShe had braces. She was trying.\n\n\"It's good to hear you're safe, because I was worried he'd have taken you, and the bounty with you.\"\n\nMy heart, having just started again after the initial shock of her face, skipped a beat suspiciously.\n\n\"How do you mean?\"\n\nShe raised the Melted Blade. It shone with the light of a dull, almost cooled iron, and sagged dramatically.\n\nAs dramatically as something can sag, I mean.\n\n\"I've come for the price on your head.\"\n\nI sighed. Then she nudged the sword downward.\n\n\"That one, I mean.\"\n\nI may have made the tiniest, itty bitty-ist girly scream in the back of my throat.\n\nIt may have also been slightly louder than that.\n\n\"No, not that one! The one around your neck!\"\n\nI stopped. Looked down. Recalled that I had dried and shrunk the head of a prestigious guild member's father and kept it as a souvenir a while back. I looked back up.\n\nI only winced a little bit the second time.\n\n\"Well, if you get me out of this very sturdy set of leathers, you can have it, as long as I'm free to leave.\"\n\nShe nodded. The angle actually made things worse for the brief second. I blinked.\n\nShe unbuckled the very sturdy set of leathers, under which I had been graciously allowed to wear pants, and took the shrunken head from me. Her Melted Blade sizzled and popped as she drooped it into its sheathe.\n\n\"Well, if you're ever in the neighborhood.\"\n\nYeah. I said that. I don't know why, but I said that. She smiled.\n\n\"I'll be sure to stop by.\"\n\nShe walked out, leaving me terrified that she may travel extensively.\n\nI looked down to find the Magnarax's braids eyeing me coolly. Normal eyes.\n\n\"Stop looking at me like that. No getting ideas.\"\n\nThey drooped back, resigned to their fate, and I walked out into the dungeon.\n\n\"Eenie meenie meinie moe...\"", "I was waiting.\n\nI knew my assignment. My target. Very soon, the Imperial Court would be mourning the tragic death of one of its most influential (or rather, problematic) members...\n\nBut when it came down to the act itself, everything went wrong. Let me be clear - I consider myself a professional. I don't lose focus. And I always deliver the promised result.\n\nSo no one was more surprised than I was when the Dowager Empress entered the room, and I found myself utterly transfixed. I could only stare in shock--\n\n--at the javelin protruding from my ribs.\n\nSetting aside the paralyzing pain and the darkness creeping steadily into my vision, I have to say I'm impressed with the old lady. One, she found out my employer had it in for her. Two, she's got one hell of a throwing arm for a granny in her seventies.\n\nSo much for my perfect rec...o..r....d.....", "Holy SHIT that person's ugly. Wow. I thought I'd seen ugly people in my day but this takes the cake. This seals the deal. It's over. Go home, ugly people. I've found your champion and goddamn do they deserve the first place trophy. \n\nI can't look away. Who invited this guy? I mean, I don't think of myself as that superficial of a person and even I'm blown away by this appearance. How has that look not been selected out by natural selection yet? Who is still fucking people like this? Maybe an equally grotesque human, that's gotta be the only case. Or he has a grade A personality. I mean, the charm of David Letterman and the humor of Conan O'Brien. He must have it all in the non-appearance departments in spades. In spades, I say. \n\nThose ears... this is a party full of 20-somethings and those ears look straight out of the Oakwood Hills retirement home. They're teeming with hair, they're misshapen, they sit asymmetrically on his head. He looks like he hasn't sleep in years. Maybe ever. It's like an ugly baby mixed with Richard M. Nixon who then proceeded to impregnate the elephant man. And a dash of Susan Boyle. Yuck. I gotta get out of here, I'm about to throw up. " ]	3
	[WP] Create an original monster, then use it to hunt down your favorite fictional character.	[ "He's been in many tough situations, but Skulduggery knew this one wouldn't be going down fast. He blasted it with fire, but its fur remained unsinged.\n\n\"Impervious to fire magic. What about a bullet?\"\n\nSkulduggery emptied his rounds into the beast, but they all pinged off harmlessly. His ringtone, Stayin' Alive, started going off. He propped it between his shoulder bone and his skull, where his ear should have been, while artfully dodging the beast.\n\n\"Skulduggery! Don't try magic! Or bullets! Especially magic!\"\n\n\"Yes Val, tell me something I haven't already figured out.\"\n\n\"It's an Or'kri! It grows with magic!\" and then Valkyrie hung up.\n\n\"I wish I hadn't asked,\" he sighed, as the Or'kri grew in size.\n\nMagic doesn't work, bullets don't work... Damn, I knew I should've learnt to play bagpipes. Those bags kill everything, he thought, while unloading another round of ammunition into the Or'kri.\n\nAnd then the darkness rained upon them. Well, to be precise, the rain fell upon them in the darkness. The Or'kri started flailing about, as if the rain were caustic acid, eating away at its flesh.\n\nAnd it did. Right in front of Skulduggery's eye sockets, the Or'kri literally dissipated. In a matter of seconds, all that was left were wet bones, the Or'kri's and Skulduggery's.\n\nStayin' Alive played again. Skulduggery flipped open his Motorola and answered.\n\n\"Skulduggery, listen! I finally found its weakness!\"\n\n\"Let me guess, water?\"\n\n\"What?! How- how? I flipped through twenty books to find that!\"\n\n\"Valkyrie, it's Dublin. Rain is an entire season here.\"\n\n\"Are you kidding? I went through those dusty tomes for nothing?\"\n\n\"Well, now you know more about all sorts of extinct magical creatures you'll never have the chance to meet in your life. I'd say that was a Sunday well spent, right, Valkyrie?\"\n\n\"Urgh, I hate Or'kri, I hate books, and I hate you,\" and with that, she hung up.\n\nWell, I'm an aquired taste, he thought, as he picked up his hat, left, and rode his 1954 Bentley R-Type Continental into the Dublin sunset.", "Steam was sliced as it drifted from the open jaws of the Shinith. \n\nEach tooth protruded from the bottom of it's mouth over it's top lip. The Shinith glanced momentarily into the bedroom mirror and observed it's eight eyes as they looked in eight different directions. Some of which sat on the top of it's head, leaving no blind spot.\n\nThe Shinith shuddered at the image of itself. \n\nIt inched forward to the room door. It's human body bent from the weight of it's plump and bumpy head. Some said the Shinith had a plump head because it's mouth cavity had to be wide enough to fit all thousand of it's teeth. \n\nThose who knew the truth, never lived to say so. \n\nDrool spilled over from gaps on the sides of the Shiniths jaw. The drool evaporated as it cascaded out, and what remained got caught in the human clothing, burning patches through the cotton. \n\nThe shinith turned and inched down the hallway. The boy's sweet scent grew thicker with each step forward. The Shinith shook it's head and lapped at it's lips in joy. \n\nTonight it would feed. \n\nThe door creaked open, but the sleeping body did not stir. With each step forward, the Shinith's movements became robotic and precise. The floor boards were compressed evenly under it's feet and it stopped breathing. \n\nThe boy opened his eyes, he felt the presence of something behind him. \n\nThe Shinith growled deeply, realising it's prey was aware. The boy shot up in panic, gasping for air as he spotted the creature in front of him. \n\n\"Please... No... I'll do anything.\"\n\nThe Shinith observed the delicious creature in front of it. The boy had a lightning scar as the dark lord had promised. \n\nIt grinned widely, revealing bloody teeth. \n\nThe boy shrunk into a corner. \"Please...\" He whimpered one last time. \n\nThe Shinith opened it's jaws wide and crunched down. A pungent smell of burning flesh replaced the once sweet aroma in the air. And a shrill scream signalled that the feast had begun. \n\nA quietness filled the room. The only disruption was the cracking of bones as they were being digested. \n\n" ]	2
	[WP]You kept seeing this trendy tattoo and decided you wanted the same. Now you're part of the worst gang possible... and you don't even know it.	[ "My hand stung from last night but for once i felt like part of the group. People looked at me in awe and confusion once they saw my hand. Those with it came up and high fived me. The tattoo could possibly be my biggest self esteem booster ever I thought. I pressed open the glass doors of the seven eleven smiling at the back of my hand. The mother inside quickly rushed her child out as i walked into her aisle, i guess she doesn't want her kid getting any ink ideas. I grabbed a bag of Skittles and a 32 ounce Dr. pepper and began walking to the counter. The man seemed scared so I stopped to look around, i was the only one in the store. I kept walking up and he looked like he was reaching for something underneath his counter. I threw the chips on the counter and placed the drink on the edge.\n\n\"How much?\" I asked.\n\n\"Uh let me..let me check\" he said seeming desperate for something. \n\n\"You like the tat?\" I asked holding up my hand.\n\n\"Uh...yes sir its very nice\" he said flinching when my hand raised.\n\n\"So how much is it gonna be\" i said putting my hand back on the counter.\n\n\"Ummmm...it looks live seventy eight dollars sir\" he said looking at the register sweating.\n\n\"That seems a little low\" i joked becoming increasingly more confused.\n\n\"Im sorry I'm sorry\" he yelled backing up.\n\n\"Its quite alright\" i said trying to calm him down \"so how much is it gonna be?\"\n\nHe crouched down, i leaned over the counter to try and see what he was doing.\n\n\"Its gonna be one...\" He said reaching under deeper.\n\n\"HOLE IN YOUR FUCKING FACE\" he yelled pulling out a pump action hunting shotgun. \n\nI instinctively threw my hand towards the barrel. He pulled the trigger and a deafening explosion rang through the small convenient store. I looked in horror at my self. The stump where my tattoo once was now bleeding profusely. I heard another pump. ", "James picked up his freshly poured pint and made sure all of us at the table noticed his brand new red tattoo on the back of his hand. As the light beer spilled over the top of his pint, Mia was back to throwing shade. \n\n“Man you look like a jackass,” Mia laughed before putting down her whiskey sour. “What does it even mean? It’s just a red blob with three upside down seven’s in it.”\n\n“It means I’m not a pussy like your boyfriend,” James fired back with a smirk. \n\n“At least my boyfriend has some brains. What’re you going to do at job interviews? Shake your employers hand with the same gloves you drove your 1994 shitbox to the interview in?”\n\nAs James threw back the rest of his pint he raised his middle finger on his newly tattooed hand and put it directly in Mia’s face. \n\n“Seven, seven, seven.” Said Mia, “I guess it’s cause you’re worse than the devil.” Mia then raised her eyebrows, crossed her arms and turned her head perpendicular to James.\n\nJust as Mia turned her head, two men were staring at James’ hand; his finger still upright in a “fuck you” position. One man pointed at James and they started walking towards the table. Tut of fear for his life James quickly took down his middle finger like it was a balloon that popped. \n\nThe men got closer and closer and held a mean grimace. \n\nMia hadn’t noticed but they were directly behind her. James sat there in shock not knowing what to say. The men clenched their fists put their hands over their hearts and said, “Brothers til death!” Mia was terrified, with her mouth wide open she tried to back away from the two men by wiggling her chair.\n\nStill sporting a confused look James clenched his fist, put it over his heart and said, “Brothers til death?” At which point the men nodded and began to walk away. \n\n“Well that was weird, eh guys?” James fiddled around with his empty pint nervously. \n\n“James those men had the exact same tattoo on their hands that you did.” Mia said with a shaky voice.\n\n“I bet you don’t think they look like jackasses!” James laughed. \n\n“No, they look like gang members,” I said, “And because of that tattoo you do too.”\n\nThirty seconds of silence passed before James tried to speak again. He said something, but it wasn’t audible. “What was that James? I said to him hoping he wasn’t trying to tell us he defecated. \n\n“Brothers til death.” He said with a fear that only dead man walking could understand. \n", "The tattoo artist had paled when I asked for the tattoo. That was the first red flag. \n\nPeople began to cross the street when they saw my tattoo. I was five foot three female with glasses and normally baggy clothes. That was the second red flag. \n\nMy teachers had acted nicer to me, the boys in school were extra respectful. That was the third red flag. \n\nThe catty girls who use to make fun of me and bully people, were suddenly super nice. I was the new girl. They should have been horrible to me. That was the fourth red flag. \n\nI began to receive things for free at the local shops and stores. I thought it was super nice neighbourhood. No. That was the last red flag. \n\nNow I was sitting across from the leader of the biggest and most dangerous gang in recent history. He stared at me. \n\n\"Sly is it? You had no idea it was our gangs symbol?\" \n\n\"No..\" I replied in a small voice \n\n\"You just thought it looked 'cool' and you really liked lions?\" \n\nI nodded. Maziah stared at me in that way only truly powerful people can. He sniffed and then began to laugh. He didn't stop. Before long, tears were coming out of his eyes and he was shaking on top of the desk. I wanted to to smile, other people's laughter always brought out that empathic feeling in me. But I controlled myself. \n\nMaziah calmed down after a few minutes \"oh lord. I needed that. Okay Sly. This is clearly not your fault, although next time you might be careful what you tattoo on your arm. Also, please cover it up, I don't think I can convince the gang that your going to be our newest member.\" \n\nI nodded vigorously. \n\n\"If you have any problems with bullies though, feel free to claim membership.\" Maziah said with a wide smile. \n\n--- sometime later ----\n\n\"Sly?\" \n\n\"Yes Maziah?\" \n\n\"When I said Bullies, I meant HUMAN Bullies.\" Maziah stared at the charging wolvewolfes. \n\n\"Are you pussying out on me Maziah?\" I asked with a raised eyebrow. \n\n\"Shit. I knew getting involved with a white girl would be bad news. Momma always told me to watch for the little ones.\" Maziah shook his head as he raised the P90. \n\n\"Oh quit your crying, I've been dealing with this shit for the past few months.\" \n\n\"And you call us now?\" Maziah asked as he continued firing. \n\n\"Well you boys can't complain now right?\" I said as I took down the lead wolf. \n\n\"Hell no. Shit, they might just replace me with you!\" Maziah said as he continued firing, the three hundred men with him laughed at their boss as they cheered in agreement. \n\n", "A picture quite funny indeed\n\n\"Of that with a phallus with a butt\" I decreed\n\nAnd so on goes the ink\n\nAnd when I decide to go drink\n\nI have little cares\n\nAbout all those who sit around and stare\n\nPlenty of gazes in my direction\n\nAnd a few people gather, quite a collection\n\nThey ask me to which chapter do I pertain\n\nAnd with whom had I trained\n\nMy look turns to that of a confused child\n\nWhen they told me my ink would leave me profiled\n\nAs that of a gang most sinister\n\nBut first initiation, they would administer\n\nA test of my abilities to post\n\npost some pictures which would be liked the most\n\n\"Post more cat pictures or I'd regret it\"\n\nFor little had I known\n\nThat gang was reddit" ]	4
	[WP] An ancient barbarian king frozen in ice must adapt to modern life.	[ "The Northern King roared as his armies surged forth, towards the enemy and for some, towards death. They had managed to cut the enemy off as they tried to move through the treacherous mountain pass. The terrain was rough, but they knew it well. They had to make a stand somewhere - allowing the enemy to reach the base of the mountains, where the farms and smallfolk lived in relative peace, was not an option. \n\nDid the battle last for minutes or for hours? The King knew not, all he knew was death, the blood of the enemy spraying across the snow, the screams of his fallen allies. Night fell, but the battle raged on. The King grew weary and his sword grew heavy. \n\nIn the darkness, while the King was preoccupied with brutally stabbing a young soldier, another enemy crept up behind his horse and sliced it's flank. The Northern King cursed as the horse reared and bucked, and he yelled wildly as he was thrown across the snow. Unable to slow himself, he slid off the mountainside and fell down into a crevasse. The King was knocked unconscious and covered in snow. \n\nHe did not wake up for thousands of years. \n\n------ \n\nThe first thing he felt was pain. Burning, stinging pain in every inch of his body. He opened his mouth in a breathless, soundless scream. He tried to writhe but his body couldn't move. He could sense people moving around him frantically, speaking in a language he did not understand. He tried to open his eyes, but the light was blinding. The voices sounded... concerned? The king felt a fresh sting in his bicep, and shortly fell unconscious again.\n\nThe second time he woke, the pain was lessened. The king slowly opened his eyes to find himself in a darkened room. His vision was blurry, but he could see some sort of orb filled with fire that did not flicker. His body felt heavy and weak, and his mind was fuzzy. As he struggled to focus his vision, a person walked into the room. A rather skinny woman, from the looks of it. She held up a small box to her face and spoke into it, the same strange language he had heard before. It was sharp and clipped, but a few words were almost familiar. Then she spoke to him.\n\n\"Hello,\" she said. Her accent was thick, but he could understand her. \"How are you feeling?\"\n\n", "\"Vornak we have been over this\", Chad looked disapprovingly upon his newest employee's latest mess. Donna from accounting had apparently taken the ancient kings lunch from the fridge by mistake, though 'mistake' may have been the wrong word since Vornak's lunch was an entire goats leg and Donna's was and egg salad croissant, that plus the fact Donna was a lunch stealing bitch. Vornak looked down upon Chad, \"She stole from me, A KING, Vornak lets no thief claim what is rightfully his!\". Chad had no problem with Donna getting what she deserved, too many of his own lunches had fallen victim to her greedy stomach, but Human Resources did, and the grisly display of Donna's hands nailed to Vornaks cubicle wall. \"Listen I'll let you get off with a warning if you just take the hands down\". Vornak growled back at him and appeared grabbed Chad by his meaty hands, \"You take me for a FOOL!? Vornak has read the Handbook of Employees and taken wisdom from it! I, VORNAK, SLAUGHTERER OF INNOCENTS, CONQUEROR OF THE SOUTHERN SHORE, KING OF THE WINTER HILLS, AND EMPLOYEE OF THOMPSON'S HOUSE INSURANCE BILLING DEPARTMENT AM ENTITLED TO DECORATE MY CUBICLE AS I PLEASE!\" Chad sighed, \"Fine Vornak, but could you at least make it so its not visible to other cubicles?\" Vornak seemed to think for a moment and put Chad down, \"Vornak agrees to your terms Chad Smith, do not mistake my compliance for weakness, for Vornak does as he pleases.\" The ancient king put the disembodied hands in the corner, so others wouldn't need to look upon them.\" Thank you Vornak\", Chad turned to leave. \"Donna was total bitch though\", Vornak growled. \"Yeah, she was a total bitch Vornak\", Chad chuckled as he left for his office." ]	2
	[WP] Write something that gradually becomes gibberish.	[ "Today is my last day in prison. I am innocent and they never believed me so I did my time. Now today is the day, finally. I have been waiting long enough. My woman security officer comes in with his fine white coat and says its 82 o'clock. Almost time for beadtime but I won't be sleeping here, I will be sleeping at home with my Daughters father. It will be the best night of dull droning on ever. It is lovely. They leave the room now after saying something about Mr. Alzheimer's and Dr. Skitzo, I know them not. Finally the release guard comes in with a lullaby and says to me to go to sleep, tomorrow is another day. I sit dwon on the escape champusle and sing my song.\n\nTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDTHE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE ENDv", "Yeah... they bit me.\n\nTwelve years I've survived in this apocalypse. I was there at the start, right when it all began. I've seen lives destroyed, children murdered. Ash settling on dead bodies stained maroon, snow from hell. There are so many bodies. Right from the start there always were. \n\nI thought I'd always been careful. Meticulous even. I know for a fact that I have been. You don't live twelve years in this goddamn hellhole if you're not careful, everyone who has the sense to be alive knows that. But as I know and as everyone here knows, it only takes one moment -- one single, tiny moment -- and boom. You're bitten. You're not a person, you're a liability. Marked. Outcast. Damned.\n\nI was part of a group for a while. When I say that, I mean I've been part of countless groups in my life, but there's always the one you care to remember. This was maybe seven years in. I didn't know their names. It's not something we care much about anymore. I remember there was this girl, dark skinned, one eye a slightly lighter shade of brown than the other. She stayed with me for almost a year, which if you know this world, is a pretty long time. Tu long. She said she was going out one day -- or rather, I knew she was going out because that's what she did, was go out -- and I never saw her again. I suspect she was bitten like I was. You never do know though. Unless it's happening to you, which to me it is, so I shoud know.\n\nThey say there's a kic you feel when it starts to change you. A deep grip in your brain, cancer spreading thru all your nerves, your toes, yor fingers, your eyelids. I feel it now. My hartrate is increasing, I feel that. In the first fyu year we dreamed of immmunity to this disease, this cancer. Wen you get to the twelf year like me, you stop entartaning such childeh fantasees. You loose hope. A byt meen death and thts yar lif.\nGod thiis hurts.\nIf I was a zomby Id prbaly ty not eet tht gil. She ws nc. ilikd hr.\nhugmry.\ni cnt fel m leg\ni rlealu fkkd up\nhngy\nhngy\nrsteiuhwjkrgfuhsdiaojfrgsekl;a,", "2/6/11\n\nToday marks the day human testing of our experimental drug, aimed to completely CURE schizophrenia and bipolar, begins. I am one of the volunteers to test out this new medication. I have some mild form of psychosis caused by my mental illness. I sometimes believe that women are secretly in love with me which is an absolutely absurd grandiose belief. Antipsychotic has effectively helped to diminish my delusion and partially kept me in check. However, their benefits are not permanent and they create too many harmful side effects, and as soon as you stop taking it, you will be back on the same old track. I was told this new revolutionary discovery will permanently eliminate all types of psychosis despite their level of intensity. The doctor told me to keep a journal about my feelings so I can review my weekly progress, and hopefully improvement. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\n2/13/11\n\nThis medication is seriously wonderful. In the past few days, I significantly improve my mood and my psychosis. I no longer have any form of delusion--I don’t believe girls are staring at me every second. I feel more motivated than ever, I start to go out of the house more often and enjoy doing hobbies in my free time. This is a heaven sent remedy for the mentally ill. I don’t notice any side effect at all--no headache, weight gain, memory loss or inexplicable agitation. We must push this drug out to the market the sooner the better because everyone must be able to experience the phenomenal benefits of it. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\n2/20/11\n\nI cannot reiterate this enough. This drug is a life-saver and must be approved and released. It makes me happy as ever. I want to travel the world, go out more, and meet new people. I want to achieve great things. I have so many plans for the future. My psychiatrist literally saves my life from misery. I met this girl from college. She gave me her number. Her name is Sarah and she is pretty. We’re going out this Friday and it’s going to be great. \n\n\n&nbsp;\n\n2/27/11\n\nThis medication could have only been invented by god. God saves humanity. God is a beautiful person. I’m going to drive to California tomorrow. I want In-N-Out. I’m studying to be a lawyer. I’ve always hated becoming a programmer. My psychiatrist empowers my inner intellect. I feel smart and high. I will save humans from stupidity. I met another girl. Her name is Natalie. She posts about me on her Instagram. I see her everyday in the cafeteria. I know where she works. She is beautiful. I’m asking her out tomorrow. She is the prettiest girl I’ve talked to. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n3/5/11\n\nMy doctor is best. God createeed drug. Her name is Linn. I turn to be a writer. I met her parents in the market. I about to come New York. This medication threw me high. My thoughts are running. My superpower save humans. Her eyes are blue. Psychiatrist brings me back from the grave. I join the military. Gods kill crazy devils. Facebook has her pictures. I fly to New Jersey. I’m super happy. Help humanity from destruction. Her name is nice. I defeat death. Her parents likeing me. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n3/12/11\n\nMychelle. Euphoryc. Immoortality. All knowing. Red. San Phrancisko. Anthropic. Muusician. Jennifer. Latuda. Buddha. Rapeturous. Brothers. Therapist. Dark green. Snapchat. Ytali. Creative. Allah. Indestructable. Psychedelic. Tumblr. Kristina. Archeologist. Parents. Geodon. Psychiatrist. Immunity. Hong Cong. Black yllow. Sanity. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n3/19/11\n\nTss. Ree. Or. Der. Gok. Op. Tun. Kym. Lp. Mgc. Nmiv. Lamn. Khgn. Kqe. Wplg. Fuvk. Skz. Cxj. Ilt. Jfds. Jkgfd. Jklrw. Klptt. Jgdw. Ayur. Kknm. Mfde. Nntr. Mnse. Loqnr. Mant. Nsdf. Nasr. Rwr. Afdn. Jmawe. Akntr. Amner. Amtrrew. Afdjr. Amglog. Amwet. Asfhet. Ointr. Kdfre. Uyir. Rhgeng. GFJ. SGFJKKN. GFDOIUTR. MNDG<SG. FG985. OIM3414)(. +-978GMH. FDSJH123. KAQQA. ", "I stared at the board. There has to be a solution to this eternal dilemma. If I can find it everyone will know me. Every time I got close to a solution, a gaping hole began to form. The answer still eluded me. How much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood? \n\nIf you factor in the shear strength of the lumber, along with the envelope of failure of mass, but then you come across the uncertainty principal. This jeopardizes the motivation to chuck wood. The only way to counter it is with a harpoon striking a tree in the heart of the matter. Causing a tangental cross section on a longitudinal plane. \n\nHowever, berries now enter the equation. Blackberries, strawberries, and lingonberries all need to be sequestered least a chain reaction systemically builds down. The carbon can sequester, but only if they glove fits on the paws of the wood chuck. \n\nCrickets are next. Crickets must be kept away otherwise they will become flour and fatten the berries, so bring coconuts. Coconuts need to be tucked into bed, making more work for the crickets. So we must miss the sun, least the trade winds blow down wind in an northeastern southwest direction. Culminating in the dissolution of lignen. \n\nSo close, yet so far. " ]	4
	[WP] A person you know seemingly ceased to exist.	[ "When the school bell rang the class started on time. No students arrived late on that day. The substitute teacher lectured the class on solving equations and the students largely paid attention. There was an unnerving sense of peace throughout and they all could sense it in the air. The storm had finally passed, and in its wake the teacher left the school, two students were absent and another still moved to another state. Her seat was empty in the far left corner of the classroom where the sun shone upon it. On many mornings she would sleep there much to the chagrin of the instructor. Now, she was gone as well. \n\nWe do not talk about her aloud, but we all wonder about who she was. She introduced herself as Rose Fields on her first day, and smiled in a way that made me envy her confidence. Though she was like us she was able to stand up for herself. She'd argue with the teacher and storm off to the deans office if it went to that, and she would speak up when she felt that the teacher treated another student unfairly. She wasn't a good person. She would mock other students and start arguments. She purposefully came late to class late to piss off the teacher. She enjoyed the attention of causing chaos in the classroom. \n\nStill, Rose was also the most genuine person I ever met. I remember that once after a heated argument with the teacher she stopped and apologized to the teacher for being such a bitch. She said she couldn't help being the way that she is. I remembered thinking that it was just a bullshit excuse but as time went on I realized that she had those moments when it was possible to see the human side of her. She would always apologize when she went too far. Everyone thought it was just her being fake but I think it was something else entirely. \n\nWhen she began to get violent with the classmates and the teacher we saw her a lot less. She would often spend most of the day with a counselor or at the dean's office. There were days when she came in, greeted us and walked away. Of course, sometimes she would do more than that. She had issues, and even at our young age we could tell that understand that it was complicated. The worst part was that there were days when she was still just like the rest of us. She would come in and sit at her desk, playing with her pen and quietly falling asleep in the morning sunshine. She appeared so normal in those moments that it made me afraid for her own self. \n\nShe left us all with scars that we keep. The worst of it is the dark cloud hovering above our heads. We feel the guilt of having witnessed what happened, for knowing it could have happened but not having any way to prevent it. We knew she had problems and that she was dangerous but none of us knew she would take it so far...\n\nAs for myself, I wonder about those days when she seemed so pure and innocent and the times that she apologized to the people she hurt. Did that part of her also die on that day? I have no way of knowing. ", "I stared petulantly at the therapist, who was trying to convince me, yet again, that Annie never existed. \n\n\"Now Samantha, we both know that Annie isn't a real person.\" He tried to reason with me gently. \n\nI leaped up from the couch and stamped my little feet on the carpeted floor, eyes welling up with tears. \"NO! Annie is REAL!! She lived right next door to us! She used to come over ALL THE TIME and play dinosaurs and barbies with me! She has brown hair and brown eyes and she's just a little taller than me. Her name is Annie Johnson and she's a REAL PERSON, she was kidnapped!!! I TOLD the police and they didn't do nothin' about it!\" Angry, I kicked the coffee table, knocking over a picture. Then I threw myself onto the couch and sobbed into the cushions. \n\n\"I DON'T. GET. WHY. NOBODY. BELIEVES ME!!!\" I sobbed. The therapist sighed. \n\n\"Samantha, who do you think took Annie?\" He asked me. \n\nSniffling, I sat up. \"I already told you,\" I hiccuped. \"It was ali-ums. I saw 'em. They came in the middle of the night in their spaceship and there was a bright light. They floated Annie right out her bedroom window. And then there was a brighter light and everybody forgot about her. But not me.\" \n\nThe therapist was taking notes. Then he smiled at me and told me to sit tight for a minute. He left the room to talk to my parents - they thought I couldn't hear, but I could. \n\nThey said lots of big, scary words like \"delusions\" and \"anti-psychotics\" and \"paranoia\". \n\nAfter that, I had to take medicine every day. They wanted me to forget Annie. But how I could I forget my childhood best friend? Like any kid in my situation, I acted out. I broke things, lied to my parents, made up stories, even injured myself. \n\nNobody believed me, and that's why they sent me to the hospital. \n\nIt was a nice one. The nurses were nice, there were other kids like me. I felt bad for one girl, who said her parents implanted a microphone inside her head and listened to all her conversations. Another girl said she was abducted by aliens, but I think she was a liar. Her description of the spaceship wasn't even a little bit similar to the one I saw. \n\nI grew up in there. I wondered if Annie was real or not. They said that was improvement. I said it just meant that their brainwashing was working. The doctor didn't like that very much. \n\nI refused to sleep at night. I didn't sleep much during the day, either. Instead, I sat by the window and waited for Annie to come back. Wherever she was, it had to be better than here. I talked to her every day. Sometimes I thought I heard her answer. But after a while, it was just a habit. I didn't really think she would come back for me... I just hoped. \n\nAnnie did come back for me. \n\nIt was after I hadn't slept for almost an entire week, my own personal best record. I was nodding off at the window, my head pounding and my vision blurry. But then I saw it: the star. Growing larger and larger, becoming a comet, then a dark, silvery shape rushing over the treetops. I gasped, and stood up. The spaceship looked exactly the same as it had 10 years ago - huge, rounded and metallic, bizarrely silent. It was completely seamless and windowless. There was no engine that I could see and it looked nothing like the spaceships on television. But it was real, so close I could almost touch it. I reached my arm out, and touched the glass window, my breath making a tiny fog. \n\nA small square appeared on the side of it, and then a bright light blinded me. I stumbled backwards, my eyes watering. When I opened them again, Annie was there, standing in front of the window with the massive ship behind her, smiling at me. I felt lightheaded. \n\n\"Wh-what.... where have you been?\" My mind was reeling. She was so recognizable, her face had been burned into my memory for the last decade, but she was older, about my age. And she was radiantly beautiful. Her skin had an unearthly glow, her dark eyes sparkled with wisdom and understanding. She was clad in a shimmery gossamer fabric that was somehow covering her from neck to ankle, but still almost obscenely revealing. It floated around her like a mesmerizing blue-gold aura. She reached out an elegant hand and helped me up. \n\n\"I don't really know how to explain it. You remember me, Sammie?\" She asked. I was shaking.\n\n\"Of course!\" I stammered. I was suddenly aware of my baggy sweatpants and oversized sweatshirt, my greasy hair and the bags under my eyes. Surprisingly, tears pricked the corners of my eyes. \"I never forgot you. Even your parents forgot, but I didn't. Nobody believed me.\" \n\nAnnie's face was full of sadness for a moment, and then she smiled again. \"I knew you wouldn't forget. You're special, like me. That's why I'm here. They sent me to come get you. You can come back with me, if you want.\" \n\n\"Come back with you? Where?\" I still felt numb. The hospital tiles were cold on my bare feet, but the heat of Annie's hand still lingered on my skin. When she smiled, her teeth were perfect and brilliant white. \n\n\"To the homeworld. It's so beautiful, you wouldn't believe it. Everything there is beautiful and peaceful. The music is exquisite, the food is incredible. You can go wherever you want. You can do whatever you want. You can live twice as long or longer.\" As she spoke, a brilliant golden light filled the room. Impossibly, she began to levitate.\n\n\"All you have to do is say yes. Just take my hand.\" She reached out her slender hand towards me. \n\nI glanced around my grungy hospital room. Then I looked back at her and smiled. \n\nAnd I grabbed her hand.", "Paul.\n\nPaul was my first boss. Good fellow. Smoked. That was strange. Constantly dodging out for a break while the rest of us worked. No one smokes anymore. Paul did though.\n\nBig smile. Yellow, but big. Everyone loved Paul. No one talked about him anymore. No one remembers.\n\nPaul went on vacation a while back. Somewhere cold. Greenland? No, that's not it. Somewhere more European, somewhere with ski-lifts.\n\nIt's pretty here. The green of the grass and grey of the granite.\n\nPaul didn't come back. Some accident on a hill somewhere. Body didn't return for months. Something about a spring thaw. Big funeral.\n\nPaul lived on for a while. His brothers bachelor party, he must have drove us to every bar in DC. Didn't drink an ounce. Sam told that story more than I cared to hear. That story, over and over and over. His brother, stone sober and surrounded by drunkards, still the life of the party.\n\nI was always closer to Sam than Paul. Sam came every year until last. A bundle of lilies and pack of Parliaments.\n\nBut I guess that's how it goes. You die once when your heart stops, then again when your name is spoke for the last time. The pack and the flowers drop next to the stone.\n\n\"It's hard to find P-funks, these day, Paul. Enjoy them.\"\n\nI'd been back with Sam every year. But friends are harder to come by as time goes on. This was important to Sam. It wasn't about the flowers or the cigarettes. It was about the remembering. \n\nIt was a nice headstone. Regal, but lacking the new finish of it's brother.\n\n\"I'll be back for you in a month, Sam. The world doesn't get to forget either of you just yet.\"" ]	3
	[WP] No matter how hard people try they can never write stories or sing songs about your heroic deeds. You are the unsung hero.	[ "I am not a hero to be sung, because i am no hero, simply a man that has been faced with one too many hard situations... From my humble hamlet on a summer night that suits best a happy memory my dark story began, the goblins were inside of my hut by the time i awoke, i fought desperately to reach my little girl and when i reached her my heart sank in utmost sorrow and the wail of a banshee scaped my throat, rage filled my body like a tide of madness, first her mother because i nay had the coin to heal her and now my angel, i have never been so tireless and vengeful as that day when i slay Goblin after murderous wretch, when the knights of the Duke found me i was covered from head to toe in their blood and i was embracing the few remains of my little girl crying like no other man had before, mad now in sorrow instead. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThey dragged me kicking and crying away from the remains of my daughter, one of them sympathetic to me tried to calm me down while the other buried her, there was a lot of burying that day, reduced to sobbing i was dragged by the elder knight into his horse and they carried me to the Duke's castle, on the ride my sorrow gave way to a small black spot on my heart. I no longer had a will to live and moved only when moved, i was bathed and clothed and they pushed me until they forced me to kneel in front of my lord the Duke. And so he spoke about how sorry he was for my loss, and the empty words just made me feel more miserable, and then he said something that now i know would change my life, he told me that he truly felt for me because those Goblins came from a Den guarded by ancient spirits of the forest and even his bravest knights had failed to convince the spirit to allow them passage, and so he offered me anything and that if it was within his power he would gave it to me... I asked for a blade.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Duke and the knights where dismayed at my request but the elder knight unsheathed his iron and offered it to me, i took it and without waiting i set on to the forest without waiting an instant more. It took me 3 days to reach the forest, i hunted and foraged, i didn't sleep because every time i closed my eyes all i could see was the mangled body of my angel and that made that small black spot in my heart pulse and grow, it gave me strength and although i felt that it would be my doom i welcomed it. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe forest was a labyrinth that shaped and reshaped itself over and over again, however i was determined to fin the Den, no i was obsessed, and this called to the spirit that appeared in front of me, tall and mighty asking me to leave his lands, i spoke to him about the crimes of the goblins, about how they brutally murdered and ate my girl and he answered that that was the way life was, at that moment the black spot in my heart consumed it, that's the way of life? THAT'S THE WAY OF LIFE?! My heart pumped darkness instead of blood and my mind turned into a haze, the only clear was the spirit and my only desire was to destroy him, the blade moved with brutal simplicity and although he fought to defend itself my pure raw and unleashed hatred gave me the strength and the madness to fight him and win, he was still alive when i started biting his neck and as i spat his blood that burned in my mouth, throat and bones i asked screaming \"IS THIS THE WAY OF LIFE YOU ROTTEN DEMON?!\" he looked at me surprised as he faded, and after i stabbed him several more times i continued walking, until i collapsed my whole body burning his blood had done something to me...", "Jim had never looked at the back of his computer. In fact, he didn't even know the back of his computer existed. Jim was the sort of person that believe the world was against him. Technology in particular, he believe, had a soul possessed by spiritual beings that infested his computer, corrupted his background and made changes to his email.\n\n\nIn all fairness, his manager has a great sense of humor.\n\n\nSitting behind Jim isn't always the easiest thing in the world either. I can hear how flustered he is by the punishment he gives to his keyboard. His mouse won't take much more before it gives in. In short, if working on a desktop is Jim's version of hell, Jim is all of techology's equal.\n\n\nHowever, there does come a time where with the flick of a key, the tightening of a screw, restarting a browser or downloading an update does he understand how technology works. He hasn't quite gotten the hang of Internet explorer, but I hope one day my support helps.\n\n\nNot every hero has a cape!", "It happened again today. The men spilled from the boat, battle-lust in their hearts, my name upon their lips and the sigil of our gods in shining metal on their shields. The fishing village was quiet, and a single elder walked out to meet us.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" he said, \"who are you folks?\" The worst part is always the politeness. If they're not going to cower before us, they could at least try screaming defiance. It makes you feel a bit of a twerp, really.\n\nThe previous week I hired someone to handle this for me, and I was feeling optimistic.\n\n\"Behold,\" said Urik, \"the warriors of the far North / O blood-drenched axe and crushing mace / Whose gnashing wail--\"\n\n\"Ah!\" exclaimed the old man. \"You must be Ylrod the Axe's people. Sorry about that, took me a minute.\"\n\n\"Well, no,\" said Urik, surprised at the interruption. He'd get used to it eventually. \"Anyways. O blood-drenched axe and crushing--\"\n\n\"Hmm, are you sure?\" he asked. \"Bard last month came around the pub with all kinds of songs about that Ylrod fellow. 'Blood-drenched axe' was in there quite a lot. 'Ylrod the Axe,' you see. Can't knock his branding, and all the songs about his heroic deeds are popular with the kids these days. Frankly we were looking forward to getting pillaged by Ylrod.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Urik. \"We're definitely not with Ylrod. Can we get back to the epic poem, now?\"\n\n\"Fair enough,\" said the old man.\n\n\"Alright. Ahem. 'O blood-drenched axe and crushing mace / Whose gnashing wail 'gainst skull of mewling child--'\"\n\n\"Aha!\" The old man looked pleased. \"I knew I'd get it. You're Bear the Indomitable's lot! Goodness, when we had that bard in to sing songs of your mighty doings none of us could stop humming along for days after. Well, I'm certain you'd like to get started, so--\"\n\n\"Not Bear the Indomitable either. 'Whose gnashing wail 'gainst skull of mewling child--\"\n\n\"I'm almost certain that bit about the skulls of mewling children is in Bear the Indomitable's tune. You might like to rethink your hiring strategy in terms of bards.\"\n\nI left Urik to try and sort things out with the elder while I went back to the ship and helped the lads get the fire arrows going. It always ends up like this. Put in ten good years of pillaging, kill all the mighty warriors you like, and all the bards have to say is that it's too tricky to find a rhyme for \"Halldor the Orange.\"", "If I write about my deeds, I become a sung hero, losing the one trait that makes me special. I could tell of my tales of triumph, of the teetering tribulations that attest to my glory... But that makes me just another legend. What's special about another Ajax, another Achilles...?\n\nWhat I revel is not whatever I'm spoken of doing, but what hasn't been. I am become death, destroyer of worlds. My name may one day be whispered, spoken only in hushed tones for fear of provoking my unholy wrath. May my legend be passed in this manner. Not preached in a textbook, included in some droning text, elaborating upon what I have contributed to the progression of mankind. I am the antithesis of plague, wrapped in the shadow of anonymity. The few who may know my existence will know it through the cold, passionless edge that spills their entrails. This is how I will become known. I am the shadow lurking in the night, the feeling that something is watching you, and finally, the unmerciful end as Death beckons.", "Once there was a hero named... well, you know, I don't remember that he had a name. Let's just call him Fred. So Frank, I mean, Fred--Fred goes off to the Twinkling Forest... or was it the Winkling Forest? That can't be right. In any case, I don't think it was a forest after all. I think it was a mountain. The Finkling Mountain? Yeah, something like that. \n\nSo Fron goes off to this canyon, see. He's got sword--might have been a dagger--I don't know. Some sort of weapon. He's off to kill the Twining Terror... Twinning Terror. A terrible beast. It's back up in the hills, you see. Somewhere. Hiding. \n\nHe struggles through the swamp, ol' Fons does, lost as all get out, until he meets this old person--probably a witch--old people are usually witches in stories. We'll say she's a witch. Or he--I'm not pre-jucial. So he--or she--they. This witch says--she says--turn left. Or bring me water. Or--um--I'm hungry. Or something.\n\nDoesn't matter. Fritz gets his directions. He forges on through this really shallow lake thing that he's in. He finds the Fearsome Fanger and he runs at him with his axe waving wildly. But the monster hits him with it's long claws and the mace goes flying. Fuh is all flailing on the ground, but just in time he--\n\nHe... you know what...? I plum forgot what he did next. Goshdern it!\n\nI give up.\n\nStupid Fern." ]	5
	[WP] A story where something you once learned in school that you thought was utterly useless actually helped you avoid a catastrophe.	[ "“Juvi” said my lawyer as my mother and I sat there in the pew right before my trial.\n\n“Regardless of what evidence they don’t have, your son is going to juvenile detention for four months, Mrs. Waters.”\n\nMy mother starts crying. I can understand that she is upset because I am tearing up inside myself. I never thought that teasing and just joking around with a few kids at school would lead me to be expelled. The pranks just got bigger and bigger until someone reported me for harassment. \n\nThe court closes session a few hours later and I get to head home for two weeks before my sentence begins. I clean up my room, doing anything to improve my mother’s terrible mood. I see my biology book (gathering dust at this point) and decide I should drop it at school tomorrow. When I head over, I see a few classmates in the hallway who just stare at me like a zoo animal. I could care less what those losers thought so I go to my biology teacher’s office.\n\n“Hey Mr. Stallone. I just came to give back all my books before… you know.”\n\nHe sits me down. “Hey Jason, how’s the family doing after the news?”\n\n“Mom is a mess. I just don’t see how I got so out of hand but it’s whatever now, life is good to only a few.”\n\n He looks down at the book, abused from being thrown around like a football for fun. “You know, if you read this thing, you would know that life itself is the same for all of us. We all have blood, mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell and all that is a spongy foam inside all of us.”\n\n\nHe gave the same speech all these teachers give a troubled youth. I left right after.\n\nTwo weeks fly by and I’m suddenly in cell block H of Dade County juvenile detention center. I’m a tough kid but these guys are massive, built of iron and tatted up to the max. I only want to survive.\n\nAs we all get out to the yard, a guy comes over to me, tall black guy with greasy dreads.\n\n“Hey yungun, whats yo name?” he said “I’m Cee and I’m offering protection, so what up?”\n\n“I’m good man, I don’t need it.” I twiddle with my dad’s army dog tag they let me bring in.\n\n“Yea? Well then you best get out of my territory bitch!” He shoves me and I see his crew moving in so I run out of there fast.\n\nLater, in my cell, I can’t find my tags. I just knew where they were but didn’t know how Cee would react. Prison is harsh to the fresh meat without friends of their own. \n\nRight as we all hit the yard, I book it to the area and scan for my tags. I see them, right behind a man. Of course, it’s Cee.\n\n“What I tell you,boy? So you think you can step all over us,huh? Well I see you when the dishes getting cleaned later. Best beat it.”\n\nI run, grabbing my tags as I pass by.\n\nDish duty comes around for me at the end of the week. I know this is going to go bad, and I wish I had stayed good in school to stay away from this.\n\nCee and his boys roll up. I see them coming towards me with a crude shiv. Suddenly it hits me. I fill the sink with dish soap and lather up the sponges. I dip them in the pan grease so they get a bit oily. I walk over to the stove with about 5 or 6 sponges.\n\n“You ready, boy? I’m bout to show you how juvi rolls.”\n\nI smile.\n\n“Hey Cee! Should’ve payed attention in class.”\n\nI light up the stove. I am ready. \n\n“Cause then you would know that mitochondria are spongy foam. And everybody knows Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”\n\nI light the greasy sponge on fire and chuck it straight at him. I toss two more at his posse. I get a clear shot for the door and book it out of the kitchen. Seems that school is cool after all.\n", "I don't know why I didn't realize it sooner, the way he was walking, his hat pulled down to conceal his face. You didn't have to be a genius to tell this guy was up to no good. Yet against my better judgement I refused to take the long way home and decided to cut through the woods instead. Little did I know that those five minutes extra would have saved my life. Literally. As I got closer I started to realize something was really off with this guy. His gait made it seem as if he was just walking on two legs for the first time in his life. He had no shoes on and he could easily have had shoes size 15 or 16. Come to think of it this guy didn't have fingers. What the fuck? It came to me too late. The distance between us closed. Fifteen, ten, then five meters. I could smell the odour off of whatever this thing was and it was a strong, like smoke. Then suddenly, it pounced, jarring me to the ground smashing my head hard against the cold dirt. This was no man or women. This thing was a fucking bear. A bear in a hat? I was panicking, struggling to draw breath as it pushed against my chest with its paws. It looked up and I could see into its cold, black, soulless eyes. It opened its mouth and breathed, the smell of fish washed over me, so nauseating. After I though the situation couldn't have got any worse, it began to speak to me.\n\n\"Who can prevent them...\" He said, his voice a deep low growl. \n\n\"What are you talking about.\"\n\nI managed to wheeze out those words while I wild swung to try and get my assailant off of me. Gradually the bear began to ease off of me, applying less pressure to my chest. Let me tell you, breathing had never felt so good. His head turned to the side, toward a red glow I hadn't noticed in my peripherals. It was difficult to make out, especially since my eyes were watering because of the intensity of the smell coming off of the bears fur. A smell that I could distinctly recognize as smoke. \n\n\"No...\" I said\n\nIt all made sense, the hat, the bear, the fire, the woods, everything.\n\n\"Smokey!?\" I exclaimed.\n\nI remembered seeing the ads on television in an era before Netflix as a kid. He would come on TV and talk about how cigarettes caused forest fires with little kids. Those uses to scare the piss out of me. Here I was, living my childhood nightmares.\n\n\"Who can prevent forest fires!\" He growled loudly into my ear, partially deafening me.\n\nI tried relentlessly to claw through my memory to remember that stupid tag line he used to say at the end of every commercial. Think I said to myself think. I could vaguely remember a time when some people who worked for a environmental agency came to my school to teach a workshop and made is watch that commercial. Come on it was for kids! How hard could the tagline be! Smokey began applying more and more pressure to my chest to the point where I thought my ribs would snap, when suddenly it clicked (not my ribs, the memory, you get what I'm saying.) Grace under pressure I guess. I mustered all my strength into my arms to push his paws off my chest, if only a little so I could speak.\n\n\"...Only you!\" I gasped \"Only you can prevent forest fires!\"\n\nFor a moment, nothing. Smokey continued to apply pressure to my chest and I thought that I was about to meet my end when all of a sudden the pressure stopped. Satisfied with my answer, Smokey simply trotted off as if nothing had happened. I lay on the dirt path in the middle of the woods for a little while longer, as Smokey made his way to the ember glow that resonated from the woods, probably to promote his new ad campaign on some poor unsuspecting person like me. Several minutes went by before I managed to pick myself up off the ground. I limped slowly out of the woods back onto the main road and called a taxi. There was no way I could walk home in this condition. I sat pensively on the curb when suddenly the horn of a car shook me out of my thoughts. My cab had arrived. Before entering I reached into my pockets and withdrew my lighter and a pack of cigarettes. I walked over to the trashcan at the corner of the curb and gave them one last look. I took a deep breath. In... And out... I threw them out and limped back over to the cab, sprawling into the back seat, promising to myself to never EVER smoke again.\n\nAnd remembered that you, and only you, can prevent forest fires.", "\"Alright, everyone, it's come down to this,\" the three-headed announcer yelled into his microphones. \"The defender of Earth has somehow managed to correctly answer every question we could throw at him, and all he has to do...\" He paused for dramatic effect. \"Is correctly answer our final question, and Earth will be spared the gruesome fate of being thrown into it's own Sun!\" \n\nThe crowd was split; half were booing, but the other half had come to root for the under dog in the last three days of this mind breaking trivia. I had been taken in the middle of the night; in fact, I was still in my pjs. I had been told that I must play in this insane game, and if I chose to opt out or missed a single question, Earth would be destroyed. \n\nSome were simple mathematics, others required a translator. One, I had to guess which extraterrestrial in the audience had poisonous fangs. The answer, of course, was none: fangs are used to inject venom, not poison. And now, I just had to answer this final question, and I could go back home.\n\n\"I doubt you'll know the answer, but that's why it's the last one! Alright Defender, are you ready to play...TRUTH! OR! DEATH!\"\n\nThe crowd erupted, and I gave a short nod. \"Alright then...\" The announcer turned all three of his heads toward me, leaning in over his podium. \"What is...the power house of the cell?\"" ]	3
Assuming he can't resign until everyone hates him because he doesn't want to look like an ass. He's trying to make bad decisions that won't straight up ruin everything like nuking the east coast or declaring nationwide martial law, but bad enough people want him out of office. --- He bans soda? New study shows it causes cancer. New plan that has serious flaws? The debt is gone in a year and the quality of life skyrockets. Openly insults the people? Seen as a "man of bold words." Supports a terrorist group? Turns out they were actually the good guys.	[WP] A President is elected, but immediately realizes he made a huge mistake. He goes off making the worst possible decisions for the country to try and get people to hate him so he can resign. Unfortunately, everything goes horribly right.	[ "After 2 years of office, President Bernie Sanders didn't like being president. Everyone hated him now, including his former supporters and staff. His polling shows a satisfaction rate of 0%.\n\nCNN did a massive poll trying to find anyone who supported him. The results? 5. 5 people. 5 people in the entire USA didn't absolutely hate him.\n\nThe states were in shambles. The economy was shot. How did it get so bad? “I fucked it all up...” Bernie thought to himself. The USA was legitimately a 3rd world country now. Canada was pretty pissed off with their new illegal immigrant problem of Americans crossing the border. Mexico as well.\n\nBernie crashed into his chair in the oval office, sighing. Gunshots rang out in the night. The protests were getting dangerous.\n\nBernie lit a few more candles on his desk. Power had been out for weeks, nationwide.\n\nA thought flashed behind his eyes. He realized his theoretical ideas don’t work in the real world. He needed help from the smartest minds he previously discounted as wackos.\n\nHe called out for his aide, and asked him to get Air Force One ready for a trip to Canada… He knew they didn’t have enough fuel to get to Europe. He spent his time on the plane considering who to call.\n\nAfter reaching Canada, where the power, phones, and Internet actually worked, he made phone calls in his hotel room located in rural Quebec.\n\nThe next morning, his guests started arriving. By noon, they were all assembled in a conference room. Bernie walked in and said to them, “This is a secret meeting. Nothing said here leaves this room. You were never here, and we didn’t meet today. That said… I fucked up. I need your help. It’s obvious that practically everything I stood for was wrong. Teach me all that you know. Give me our opinions.”\n\nThe few first hours were filled with yelling and talking over each other, but after a while everyone settled down and started making various plans to fix America. Bernie’s guests had similar opinions, yet argued over small details. Almost all these opinions felt completely wrong to Bernie. As plans were discussed, and they argued over the details, Bernie kept telling them that the more radical the better. “We need a whole overhaul of everything,” he said. The guests however were thrilled to finally be making meaningful change.\n\nAfter a couple days, they had a plan for everything. Some congressmen and senators came by, and were filled in with the details. One senator burst out crying in happiness as she was told of the plan.\n\n6 months later…\n\nAmerica was getting back on its feet. In the Annual State of the Union, Bernie apologized to the nation and told them that the successful plans he passed during the past 6 months were made with the help of Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Glenn Beck, Mark Levin, Michael Savage, Alex Jones, Laura Ingraham, Dave Ramsey, Clyde Lewis, Lars Larson, Bill O'Reilly, Neil Boortz, Mike Gallagher, Larry Elder, Michael Reagan, and Dana Loesch.\n\nThe world was shocked at this revelation. But as elections came and went, Bernie remained president, and with the help of many Conservatives, by the end of his 2nd term, America was rightfully the superpower of the world again and had solved almost all of the main political issues that existed.\n\nCongress and the House passed a modification to the 22nd Amendment allowing for 3 terms maximum, and Bernie again won reelection.\n\nAfter his reelection, Bernie was again sitting in his office. He really hoped he would lose. The people loved him. But he just felt like a puppet. People didn’t love his ideas – they hated them, and rightfully so. They loved the new Bernie, who didn’t believe in what he was saying. But he was doing what was best for the country – no, for humanity.\n\nWith a sigh, he knew he had to fulfil the last promise he made years ago in Canada, so he collected the last few folders on his desk, placed them into one of the many boxes on his desk, and called Clyde Lewis and Art Bell. They arrived in the oval office a few hours later and the 3 of them (with the help of some interns and other staff) went through every file that the president could find that related to the secret space programs and aliens and the alien technology.", "DAMN! Damn damn damn damn shoot all ta hell!!!!!\n\nWhat was I thinking? I can’t be the leader of the free world. My brain should NOT contain the nuclear launch codes. I just wanted to make dad proud but this went way tooo far. Haven’t slept with Laura in 6 months! Jeb won’t speak to me! Dammit bush what you got yourself in to. You can’t do this for the next 4 years!\n\nG.W. felt his hear race as he stared out on to the white house lawn. The fine leather chair he assumed would be the most comfortable seat in America was in fact making his lower back hurt. He had already nodded politely through four meetings this morning and it wasn’t even 9:30. All the while Cheney had been sitting in the corner of the room. Grunting in approval or disapproval; G.W wasn’t sure which was which. \n\nI mean god damn man! I’ve been president for all of 14 hours and I ain’t even been in the oval office alone. \n\nHey Dick do ya think ya can you give me the room please? Just for a few minutes?\n\nG.W watched as his long time mentor waddled out of the room mumbling in his nasally style, “ mah. Remember you have that meeting with that British poof Blair in 20 minutes. Don’t be late. mah mah”\n\nOh man I don’t want to go to that. I’m president for god sake I can do whatever I want! can’t I? \n\nIt was as if G.W had realized the magnitude of his predicament for the first time. He pulled the drapes closed. With a sigh he sat down at his desk; admired the beauty of the room that so few great men had been privileged to work in. Pulled down his pants, and began to masturbate furiously.\n\nThe secret service agents outside the door exchanged smirks from behind black aviators. They were security detail left over from the Clinton administration. The sound of presidential wanking was all too familiar to their veteran ears. \n", "It is the year 8200, humanity has eradicated all of it's faults, diseases are cured in an instant, peace reigns across the galaxy, and death is but a faint memory. All thanks to one man, President Marks. Thanks to his leadership, humanity has entered a golden age, and with it, total control over the entire Milky Way. Now, four-thousand years after being elected, an event scholars now refer to as \"The greatest moment is history\", he is being honored by the galaxy for his contributions to the species.\n\nThe ceremony begins in hushed tones, as the presenter walks to the podium, a hush falls over the galaxy. The woman, black, with glowing blue eyes, wearing a holographic dress that simulates bright red fabric, gently lowers her datapad onto the podium, the nanobots that make up the podium reshape it for easier reading.\n\n\"People of the universe. We are here today, to celebrate the eternal life of humanities greatest mind. The man who's ended war by attacking everybody, thus showing the world how pointless conflict is. The man who ordered us to dedicate all of our resourced to the study soda pop, allowing us to discover the enzymes which grant us immortality. The man who revolutionized space travel by standardizing the idea that Light Years were for time not distance. The man who conquered time it's self by discovering \"Ence\" the hidden number and making it a standard part of curriculum. The man who saved us from Dalakis: Lord of Moon's by firing the planet's nuclear arsenal at Luna, which was revealed to be his mobile warmachine.\" The woman smiles, the stage shifts to become much grander. \"Ladies, Gentlemen, on Earth and beyond. I present to you; PRESIDENT JOHN MARKS!\" She steps away, the smile growing larger. The crowd erupts into a roar of applause, it's deafening, or it would be, if technology had not made ears impervious to sound damage. Out walked the man of the hour, President John Marks, leader of the Human Galactic Republic since 4032. Marks had taken the age treatments like everyone else, but he still looked old. Not because he was aged, but because he was tired. He had run for office on a drunken dare, he had never expected to actually win, let alone hold the fate of the entire galaxy in his hands, but here he was, being handed yet another award for his efforts. He didn't understand it, every decision he made he did with the hope it would get him impeached and release him from what he soon discovered was the worst job in the universe. Each order had been more insane then the last, less feasible, more dangerous... but it backfired spectacularly. Every decision was praised, each one raised humanity higher and higher until now they where practically Gods. His reign was known as an eternal Golden Age, and all basked in it's glory.... except for the man who had brought it about. He was broken, he simply couldn't take it anymore, so as the crowd cheered his name, he pulled out a pistol, likely the last of it's kind following the Universal Disarmament Act, and pressed it against his head, he closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger. \n\n\n\n\nMarks slowly opened his eyes, the world was blurry, for a minute he thought he had finally done it, he had finally escaped, but he was wrong. he was alive, as the dull pain at the side of his head proved. He leaned back and smiled, perhaps now the galaxy's God like view of him would cease, perhaps he would finally know peace... his vision fully returned to him, and he could see the television clearly....\n\n\"Surgery to save President Marks' results in the discovery of hidden Psionic potential, telekinesis available to all in four months. interdimensional travel also possible.\"\n\n.....Damn.", "\"...Mr. President?\" the man in glasses said.\n\nFuck. he thought, staring at the desk where so many great men sat before him. The first fucking day? He flicked the handle of his desk childishly, watching the brass fall back into position.\n\n\"Mr. President...\" The man in glasses was getting impatient.\n\n\"I'm the fucking President of the United States of America for God's sake! Can't you let me just think for a goddamned second?\" His well coiffed hair trembled with his indignant response.\n\n\"With all due respect, sir...\"\n\nThe Man at the desk slammed his hands on the finely glossed mahogany before him, standing. \"DON'T YOU FUCKING SAY IT. IT'S BEEN TWELVE FUCKING HOURS! I CAN'T HANDLE THIS KIND OF PRESSURE!\"\n\n\"...it's your wife on the phone,\" the man in glasses continued, \"she's on line 2.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" the Man said, plopping back into his chair. \"Is that the red phone?\" \n\n\"No, sir. We don't use the red phone for that.\" the man in glasses said, closing the door quietly behind him.\n\nThe Man was left to his thoughts, the red light blinking from an otherwise inconspicuous office phone. \n\nWhat have I done? I can't do this. His anxiety was palpable.\n\n\"Hello?\" He said. A pause silenced the room again before his response. \"I really don't give a shit about dinner right now. Do you know all the things I have to do?\" Another pause. \"That's fucking right, you don't...well, I can tell you it surely is a lot.\" He slammed the phone, leaving it cocked on the receiver.\n\nTruthfully, the Man had nothing to do. Well, maybe He did, but He wasn't sure. What does one do on his first day as President? On his way into the Oval Office, he'd stopped at the Rose Garden, took a brief tour of the West Wing, and broke what he was sure was a very priceless vase on a side table in some hallway. He just put it back onto the table. His door opened after a brief knock. The fucking man in glasses.\n\n\"Sir?\" \n\n\"What is it?\" He said, twirling in his chair.\n\n\"The meeting at 3:00 has been pushed back to 3:15.\" the man in glasses said from the middle of the doorway.\n\n\"Well too fucking bad.\" He said from behind the desk. \"I'm going to give a State of the Union address instead. That's what Presidents do, right? State of the Unions?\"\n\nThe man in glasses blinked. \"Sir, it hasn't even been twelve hours. I don't think it's necessary to give a State of the Union address.\"\n\n\"Call the press. Get them here by 3:00.\" He stopped twirling and stared at the man in glasses. \"Well...what are you waiting on? Get.\"\n\nThe man in glasses shut the door again. That'd be the last time He saw the man in glasses before the chaos began.\n__________________________________________________________\nThe TV flickered. \"...reports suggest that the attack began at approximately 2:15. Now, after 30 minutes under siege, the Oak Ridge National Laboratory, Building 3019, has been officially overtaken by the unidentified group of militiamen. Threats of nuclear holocaust seem imminent for the southeastern United States. The President has scheduled a State of the Union for 3:00 to discuss the attacks. Stay right here, with Your News on...\"\n\nHe shut the television off. Jesus fucking Christ.\n__________________________________________________________\n\n(I'm at work, so I can't continue this, but I'd be willing to give it an update in a little bit if anyone's interested. I haven't written since college, so I feel I'm a little rusty.)\n\n", "Day 1-\"This sucks\" I thought to myself. \"The carpet is horrible in the oval office! I want out.\"\n \"We need six new Supreme Court Justices.\" \nPresident adds Six New Justices, New Levels of Fairness reached\n\nDay 38- \"What? That's a Terrible Idea! How did it work?\"\n\"Drill for Oil in Manhattan\"\nPresident orders Manhattan oil drilling, massive reserves found\n\nDay 81- \"How is there oil in MANHATTAN?\"\n\"Invade Switzerland!\"\nSwiss invasion of Britain foiled\n\nDay 137- \"ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? Fine. It worked for Nixon, right?\"\n\"Spy on the Democrats\"\nDemocratic Terror plot foiled, senators arrested.\n\nDay 273- \"Come on....\"\n\"BUILD A WALL!\"\nMexican Invasion of US foiled\n\nDay 465- \"Huh. Trump was right.\"\n\"65% Tarriff!\"\nUs economy flourishes, national debt is eradicated\n\nDay 1460- \"Somehow.. I made it through my term. But finally, it will be over\"\n\"I will not run again\"\nPresident Re-elected despite not running\n\nDay 1461- \"Son of a b-\"" ]	5
	[WP] There's a breach in the gold vault of the federal reserve bank of New York, guards rush to the scene to find... a small child using the gold bars as building blocks.	[ "While it wasn't strange to see seventeen squad cars, two Special Weapons and Tactics vans, a police helicopter and Mobile Command Unit all rushing through the streets of New York towards Times Square just after lunchtime on a Tuesday afternoon, it was still noticeable enough for people on the street to take notice and remember the convoy as it sped by and overhead. Had those observers known that the police were responding to an alarm sent from the Federal Reserve Bank, they might have taken more interest but barely five minutes would pass before most would have put the incident entirely out of their mind as they returned to the monotony of their regular lives.\n\nWhat would have really piqued their interest, and what certainly caught the attention of every officer responding to the panicked report of a breach of the bank's gold vault, was that upon arriving at their destination there was no gunfire from the criminals raiding the vault. In fact, there was no sign of any getaway vehicles at all. Figuring that the perpetrators must have some underground getaway planned, maybe through nearby subway tunnels or even the sewers, the police forces began pouring into the bank.\n\nFollowing their training, the the officers methodically approached the target area. One of the S.W.A.T. teams moved to the front in preparation of breaching into the vault area and with as little fanfare as possible, proceeded into the interior. With any luck, they knew they could catch the criminals mid-heist but even if they had already left, the officers would be able to discover their means of egress and escape. With that information in hand, their superiors could start arranging the appropriate countermeasures to ensure that the perpetrators were caught forthwith.\n\nWith all this preparation and furor it is therefore understandable that, when the police officers caught sight of the young child sat in the middle of the vault playing with the bricks of gold bullion, their righteous charge was halted in its tracks and more than one mouth fell open from the sheer shock of the situation. The fact that the child was sat with straightened back and crossed legs wasn't quite as noticeable as the fact that they were so postured while floating two feet above the ground. For those that had so far overlooked the oddity the child represented, they were instead unable to ignore the fact that the bars of gold bullion weighing more than twelve kilograms a piece were being manhandled invisibly as they were moved from the neat stacks of the gold vault into whatever structure was forming on the floor in front of the child.\n\nSuffice to say, none of the officers present could think of any training they had received or operating procedures in place, that dealt with what they had discovered. In fact, by the time that the on-site commander had given up on receiving a response from any of his men and personally entered the vault to discover what was going on, nobody had figured out yet what they were supposed to do. With the commander being similarly flabbergasted, it was apparent that the New York City Police Department's finest was in need of a new play book.", "\"What the Hell is this?\" Jason stared into the vault, dumbfounded at what he saw.\n\nA toddler, no older than 4 years old, sat on the floor with a big smile on his face. In front of him stood a small tower of golden blocks, arranged in a lego-like pattern. \"Play!\" he exclaimed when he saw the guards enter the vault.\n\nJason couldn't believe what he saw. What kind of asshole brings their kid to a bank robbery? He stepped inside, motioning to his team to stay back. \"Hey there, buddy,\" he said with a soft whisper. \"Where's your parents?\"\n\nThe little kid laughed. \"Bye bye!\" He said. His eyes scrunched up, suggesting an air of childish mischief. He pushed his hand into the tower of gold bars and they came tumbling down. \n\nJason leaned forward. \"I'm sorry? What do you mean by 'bye bye?'\" He reached for his radio. \"Were they here earlier?\"\n\nThe boy shook his head. He started to pout and fold his arms against his chest. \"NO!\" He shouted. \"They said 'bye-bye!'\" He looked angry, far angrier than a child his age should appear.\n\nJason couldn't believe what was happening. This kid's shitty parents used him as a distraction so they could make a getaway. What the Hell has this world come to? He reached down to pick up the kid. \"Come on, pal,\" he said, sympathetic to the boy's plight. \"We'll take you somewhere safe.\"\n\n\"NO!\" The boy screamed again. He kicked his feet out. \n\nJason stopped in his tracks. He felt something, some sort of force in his gut. It hurt like hell, like he had just been punched in the gut. The toddler kicked his feet again, and the feeling returned for a separate time. Jason stumbled back. \"How the Hell. . . ?\" He started.\n\nThe little kid stood up. \"No more 'bye-bye'!\" He said. The vault started to tremor. \n\nFootsteps came pounding behind Jason. He spun around, and saw a young man and woman, escorted by a guard, make their way toward the scene. When they saw the child, they fell to their knees.\n\n\"Oh, Johnny,\" the woman said. \"We're so sorry! We won't leave you again.\"\n\nThe man looked terrified. \"Mommy and daddy have to work, son. It's the only way we can keep buying you nice things.\"\n\nJason glared at them. They looked familiar. \"You're the parents of this kid? Don't you work here?\" He said. No one answered. After a few minutes of silence, he raised up his arms. \"Does anyone mind telling me what the fuck is going on?\"\n\nThe kid kicked his feet again. This time, Jason went flying several feet backwards, landing hard on the cement floor outside the vault. The woman started to cry.\n\n\"Oh God,\" she said. \"Please, Johnny. Don't hurt us! We're sorry!\"\n\nThe man nodded his head. \"We won't go to work anymore, son. We'll stay home with you all day!\"\n\nThe kid shook his head. \"NO!\" He said. The vault began to tremor again, this time picking up with intensity. The ceiling started to crumble.\n\n\"Oh God,\" The man said. He hopped up to his feet and ran toward the stairs, leaving his wife behind. \"Run!\" He shouted behind him as he hauled ass toward the exit.\n\nJason didn't think twice. He grabbed the woman up by her arms, and together they hastily made their way out of the vault entrance. When they made it to the stairs, however, the whole building began to shake violently. The father, who was just up ahead, fell backwards. His head hit the cement stairs hard on the way down. By the time he reached the bottom, his head was cracked open and spilling blood all over the floor.\n\n\"Oh God!\" The woman screamed. The ceiling above the stairs came crashing down, blocking their only exit.\n\nJason spun around. His guards, who had been right behind them, lay writhing on the floor in agony. The little kid, halfway down the hall, walked menacingly towards the mother. \"Why don't you play?\" He said, his face pouting. \"No fun! No fun!\"\n\nThe mother grabbed on to Jason. \"Please,\" she begged. \"Kill him if you have to.\" \n\nJason looked down at his gun, holstered to his side. No, he thought. I can't. He's just a kid.\n\nThe toddler was within a few yards of them now. He held two gold bars, one in each hand. \n\n\"Please,\" the mother insisted. \"We tried to be good parents. We thought we could change him. But. . . oh, there's no use now! Just kill him! Just kill him! Please--\"\n\nHer words cut short. A gold bar had lodged itself into her chest. Jason stared at her in horror. She gazed emptily at him until blood came spurting out of her mouth, and she collapsed onto the floor.\n\nJason spun back around. The toddler held the other gold bar, pointing it menacingly at Jason. \"Your turn!\" He said, starting to laugh. \n\nJason quickly drew for his gun. He managed to pull it out of his holster and aim it at the kid. . . \n\n. . . but he was too late. A gold bar shot into his eye, ramming through his skull and coming out the other end. \n" ]	2
	[WP] The dead have arisen. Zombies and skeletons now walk the Earth. However, instead of attacking humanity, they their seek protection.	[ "\"Hello and welcome to the International Zombie and Skelton Protection Association. How may I be of service?\" God I hate this line, but if I want to get paid I don't have a choice. \n\n\"Yes I'd like to request level 2 protection and insurance.\" Said the rotting pile of meat that stood in front of me. \n\n\"Of course. Please hand me your Passport, Grant of Protection, and any other documents you believe may be important.\" I told him, or at least I believe it to be a he. \n\n\"Here. I was wondering if I could also apply for Food stamps. I know it's a bother but could you check for me?\" He seemed like a genuinely nice person, minus the person part. \n\n\"Alright Mr Stewart, according to my database you are eligible for everything. I just need you to sign some papers and you can be on your way.\" I do my best not to vomit from the sheer stench of this guy. \n\n\"And done. Is there anything else I should do?\" He asks. \n\nYou mean besides get out of the reach of my nose? I decide it's best to keep that one in my head. \n\"No sir your all done. Have a wonderful evening.\" I tell him. \n\n\"You too!\" He says as he leaves. \n\nI wish I hadn't done this favor for Erica", "We've always had tales of the dead coming back. Izanagi tried to bring his wife back, and found her changed beyond recognition. Sisyphus thought to cheat Hades, and was damned for his efforts. Frankenstein, Jesus, Manzazuu, The Walking Dead… Death is a human obsession, and Undeath naturally follows.\n\nDespite all the focus upon it, humanity was still unprepared. Most screamed and fled. Some gleefully applied arms to the situation. Others broke down in the streets, unable to reconcile reality with their beliefs in science or religion.\n\nNone expected the dead to be fearful, to be needy.\n\nThese weren't the bloodthirsty zombies of legend, or the plodding skeletons of myth. They were humans trapped in rotten flesh and bone. They cried out for mercy, for painkillers, for death itself.\n\nBut death did not come.\n\nAll across the Earth, newly dead became newly undead. The cancerous could not pass. The maimed were trapped. No soul could go into that soft great night.\n\nAn Ausshwitz survivor once remarked that both perfect happiness and perfect unhappiness were impossible. Human nature is naturally opposed to the infinite. When a thing became to terrible to bear, death naturally followed, the first anasthetic. What is left when even the sweet release of death is barred to a sufferer?\n\nMadness.\n\nThe undead hordes could not bear this waking nightmare. Those with enough of a mind left sought obliteration, often through flames. Those without became worse than ever the tales could've imagined. A supernatural monster is one thing, but a human mind twisted by pain is far worse.\n\nThey had sought our protection. They wanted shelter from the cruelness of immortality. But all we have to offer is cremation. " ]	2
	[WP] After receiving perfect score on your final exam, your school is asking you to give a speech on the subject of the exam. Little does anyone know you guessed every single answer.	[ "An unassuming bluish grey stone gave way under Professor Maria Millworth’s $200 black leather heal. It rolled and cracked in much the same way as the professor’s poor anklebone. It is precisely this event that led to my unfortunately perfect score on Millworth’s notoriously difficult exam. \n\nThe exam ordinarily consisted of three on demand essays that required in depth analysis of the socioeconomic factors leading to the Wamapoke people’s subjugation. Why would I, a student who has coasted through my 4 years here at Indiana State University, take such a class? The answer is “diversity, equity, and inclusion”. Three quite simple words that mean I quite simply need a class that “challenges or questions the mainstream views of a predominantly white, male society”. Going on a four-day beer and psychedelic mushroom filled excursion to the desert means that “Expression through non-traditional painting methods” was completely filled. \n\nPoor Millworth’s ankle was so crushed that she had to spend the week she normally spent making the final exam in a morphine-induced joy ride on a sweaty hospital bed. As the other students heard of the tragic news they shuddered and balked in disbelief. Some even wrote get well cards filled with words of encouragement and cute little pencil drawn hearts. I could barely contain my excitement. I was free! Or so I thought. \n\nThe exam was replaced by a 40-question multiple-choice test, or as I like to say, “an exotic wet dream”. I spent the two nights leading up to the exam completely and helplessly drunk. In fact, I was drunk during the exam. Now that I think about it I’m drunk now, but that doesn’t matter. I guessed on every single one of those questions. Every. Single. One. Yet here I am. Standing in front of fifty oddly assembled academics and annoyingly studious college sophomores about to give a speech on the Wamapoke’s economic subjugation. \n \nI crack a smile and adjust my $20 stained tie. \n\n> “A forty question multiple choice exam.”\n\n> “Each question has four possible answers, only one of them being correct.”\n \n I cleared my throat. \n\n> “This of course places the likelihood of correctly and randomly guessing each correct answer to be 25 percent.”\n\nBy now confused faces filled the crowd, and hushed muttering produced a soft buzz. \n\n> “If we assume each guess to be an independent event, and I think that is a fair assumption, then the combined probabili—\"\n\nProfessor Millworth attempted to interrupt me with a raised crutch, but I held up my hand and she begrudgingly accepted. \n\n> “The combined probability of forty perfect guesses would be the product of all forty individual probabilities.”\n\n> “That means one has an 8-point-three times ten to the negative twenty-three percent chance of a perfectly guessed test.”\n\n> “Essentially you are more likely to be killed by a shark carried by hurricane winds and crushing you to death than you are to perfectly guess on such a test.\n\n> “What would such a result even mean? Existence of a higher power? Psychic abilities linked to alcohol consumption?” \n\n> “I’ll let you decide”\n\n> “I may not be a good student. I may know nothing about the subject you all are gathered here to listen about. But I do know that I got a B+ in freshman Statistics, and these numbers don’t lie. Thank you”\n\nI scanned the room and then walked past Professor Millworth and her poor, shattered ankle. \n", "This actually happened to me once. Growing up, I was forced to go to Chinese School every year in the hopes that I would learn how to read/write Chinese (I can only speak it fluently). There's a reason why my writing/reading is still at a first grade level. I basically skipped half of my classes using bogus excuses. I was otherwise a good student and the school was happy getting paid for doing little work so I never got in trouble. \n\nAt the end of 7th grade, I had a final exam for Chinese school. I didn't know after skipping an entire week of class. As soon as I saw the exam, I wanted to tear all my hair out. There were a couple of long passages followed by 8-10 multiple choice questions. I couldn't even read a single sentence and instead had to randomly guess sentences with only 2-3 words that I could recognize. I knew that I was going to get a horrible grade but frankly, I just didn't care. \n\nThe next day, the teacher excitedly announced that there was one student who got a perfect score. I actually snickered, what an overachieving nerd. And then, the teacher called me to the front of class.\n\nI was the nerd who got a perfect score and I was expected to read through the passage as we went through the answers. It took less than 2 seconds for the teacher to realize that I had no idea what I was reading and even less time for her to accuse me of cheating. Everyone laughed at my inability to get past the second word. \n\nNow, if I got a perfect score on a final exam that actually mattered, I'd be happy. But, that's obviously not how my luck goes. ", "I was getting increasingly more stressed as I flipped through the pages of the exam. I had spent the last 3 weeks studying for the exam, ignoring friend invites, sleep and hunger. I had given my soul studying for the exam and I had walked in feeling very confident. But now as I was looking at the questions, I was becoming overly anxious. I wasn't recognizing any of the questions and it felt like the test was written in a different language. \n\nIn fact, I slowly realized that it was written in a different language. It looked like there were a bunch of dots over the o and it definitely looked like a bunch of the e's and a's were accented. \n\nHad I walked in to the wrong exam room? No that couldn't be it. I had double checked the room number a couple times before walking in and the test booklet had my name on it. I might have signed up for the wrong exam. But no, I flipped to the front of the exam booklet and it was written clearly in English that it was the 2016 Final Exam for my class. \n\nThen why was it in a different language? I looked up at the time, I had wasted 20 minutes stressing out. I had only 40 minutes left to answer 80 questions. \n\nI weighed my decisions. Either I could try solving the problems in a language I couldn't even recognize, stressing out the whole time while crying to myself. Or i could answer the scantron randomly, leave early and cry my self to sleep at home. \n\nI decided I would rather cry at home. C looked like a good answer for the first question. A for the second, B for the third spelled CAB. I then spelled DAD, BAD, ACE, and DAB. I then decided to BAA like a sheep a couple of times. The best word I came up with was DECADE. And that's how I finished my test up until the last 5 questions where I put them all as C because it's always C. \n\nI stood up, turned in my exam and then went home, locked my self in my room and cried to myself for 5 days straight. On the fifth day I had enough. If i was going to repeat the entire year, so be it. The made me feel a little better. \n\nA couple months passed without incident. Until one random day I received a call from a number I didn't recognize. I answered fully expecting to tell the unsuspecting caller that they had the wrong number when I heard the voice of my principal on the line saying my name. He informed me that he wanted me to be the main speaker for a conference he set up on the subject of the exam I had failed. I informed him that he should find a better speaker as I had failed the exam. He just laughed and told me that I had gotten a perfect score. A perfect score? I laughed back in his face. He assured me that he wasn't joking and he'd expect me to be there. \n\nSure enough I received my score a couple of days latter and I had earned 80/80. I was sure they had to be a mistake. I called everyone I could but sure enough everyone congratulated me and told me there was no mistake. How could I have earned a perfect score when I didn't even answer a single question. I had guessed on every question. \n\nThe date of the speech was coming soon and I didn't know what to do. Luckily though, I soon passed away and didn't have to deal with that problem anymore. " ]	3
	[WP] You got really drunk last night and now you have your own book published on Amazon.	[ "Groggy and sore, Amir stared blankly at the ghostly, red numbers illuminating the remaining cracked lens of his glasses which rested upon his face - 4:37. \n\nAmir twisted in attempt to roll over, his right side numb from having not moved since unwillingly falling into what felt like the deepest sleep of his adult life six hours prior. \"Never.. drinking.. again..\" Amir slurred as his left side adopted the burden of supporting his aching, dehydrated body against the mattress. \n\nStruggling to recall even the slightest memory of the previous evening, Amir stared blankly into the dark room in front of him - a consistent blue flash was all that populated his vision aside from the diagonal fracture transforming his single glasses lens into an inoperative bifocal. Amir reached for his phone, restless from the hangover. \n\n> \"Amir, it's Steph. I knew you had it in you. I'm just glad they finally gave you a chance. YOU'RE PUBLISHED!\"\n\nAmir read the message preview repeatedly. The word published stung Amir's pupils, adding another layer of confusion to the void of last night. \"I'm not a writer. Published. Published what?\" Amir murmured, again reading the message he had received from Steph at 4:33 AM. There was a link in the next message. Amir clicked hastily, awaiting an explanation surrounding the confusion of the night which, compiled with Steph's message, only made his head spin faster. \n\nBest Books of the Month\n\nThe orange title emblazoned on the top of the screen sent Amir's eyes fumbling across the page trying to make the littlest sliver of sense out of the events surrounding the previous ten hours. \n\nAmir froze. His eyes fixated on the screen. Adjusting his mangled glasses, Amir focused once more on the most perplexing sight he had possibly ever seen. \n\n>Featured Debut\n>Timeless\n>by Amir Sweeney\n\nA small portrait accompanied the book's introduction on Amazon.com. Amir was looking himself in the eyes, blinking repeatedly trying to force a sure hallucination to dissipate. However, when the image came back into focus, Amir could still identify the tie he purchased for his company portrait just the day before. \n\nSpeechless, Amir pressed the off button on the side of his phone and placed it back on the mattress. Thoughts of confusion and hysteria possessed Amir's mind as he re-positioned himself onto his back. Amir's head slowly collapsed the pillow beneath him as one word controlled his mind among all other thoughts as he drifted back into unconsciousness: published.", "I woke up with a head full of nails and a mouth full of cotton. \n\n\"Uuuurghh,\" I lamented. \n\nI teetered my way to the desk, and blearily called up the usual tabs. Facebook, Reddit, gmail. \n\nAmazon.\n\n\"Whahr?\" I queried. Amazon had not loaded my usual homepage. Instead, there was an industrial-looking page filled with foreign language, such as 'orders placed/fulfilled,' 'projected revenue,' and 'your book.' \n\nYour book. \n\nHmmm. \n\nMy hand, doing its best impression of a glacier, laboriously moved the mouse over the link 'your book.' I clicked. \n\nHow To Get Published In One Alcohol Fueled Night \n\nIn a daze, I clicked on the preview. \n\n>\"\"I... worked on a lot of things that were almost incredibly successful but in fact just failed to see the light of day. Other writers will know what I mean.\" -Douglas Adams. Good ol DNA. Hres a guy, a frood, heh heh, tha knows what up. But he took frever, for4VER, I tekk you, to get imsrlf pubbled. Publudhed. Publsjed. You know.\"\n\nMy eyes slid off the screen, down the keyboard and into my lap. What have I done? More importantly, who the hell let me publish it? ", "When I woke up with my face plastered to the desk, my laptop sitting open nearby, my initial thought was not even Where am I? \n\nIt was, I don’t have a desk. \n\nRaising my head took more strength than I possessed. I almost lost the fight against gravity, knocking a stack of books over as I pulled stray hair out of my mouth and staggered out of the chair. I vaguely registered that the books were black and red, but my bleary eyes couldn’t make out the titles. I was surprised I wasn’t seeing double at that point. \n\nI stumbled along, finding a bathroom in the unfamiliar room, which I only recognized as not mine. My mouth tasted like I’d been chewing on cotton balls soaked in tequila. I looked in the mirror and saw that I looked worse than I felt. That was not comforting. The tiny bottles of soap and shampoo on the sink finally reminded me I was in a hotel room. I did my best to make myself human again with the resources available, allowing my mind to wake up and try to fill in the pieces from the night before. \n\nAfter showering and finding some aspirin that I had apparently laid out for myself, I surveyed the room. Judging by the bottles everywhere I had gone through the entire mini-bar and a third of a bottle of tequila. I noted the books on the floor again; there were four, and they made up some young adult trash saga about eternal doomed love. I tapped the space bar on my laptop to see if it was on. The screen lit up immediately. \n\nOddly, the browser was open to Amazon, with a second tab in my E-mail. This was a bad sign; it looked like I had drunk-ordered something. I went to see what the confirmation message said so I could see what it was. To my great confusion, it was a congratulatory notice for the publication of a book that I couldn’t even remember writing. \n\n“Congratulations, Miss James! Fifty Shades of Grey is now an E-book on Amazon!” \n", "Everything was fuzzy. The blankets, my bare mattress, my thoughts... like a cotton ball tore through whatever was left of me from last night. Along with my memory. Shit, everything was just, thirsty. A glass of water. \nI made to get up, but the floor wouldn't let me. It bucked and rocked under my feet, which made it difficult to cross the room for a glass of water. This was easily one of my worst hangovers. \nNot, November 2011 worst. I tipped the hotel staff very well that morning. No, this was graduation night worst. Distinct taste of glory with a subtle aftertaste of shame. \nWhat the hell was I doing last thirsty? \nOh right, the glass of water. I made to get up again. No luck. \nSo I'll call out for my roommate. \nPete! \nIt came out as \"pEEe-tuh.\" \nClose enough. \nThe room thundered with a door slamming open. I hoped it was mine. Peter could get me a--- \n\"Asshole. You're awake huh?\" \nDefinitely my door, but, was he talking to me? A quick scan through the bedroom confirmed I was the only other person there. \nI mean, it was my room, but--- \n\"I'm talking to you!\" \nStop interrupting me! \n\"shtOP inter PETTING me.\" \n\"What?\" \nHmm. My speaking needed work. \n\"I don't know what possessed you last night, but I want you out by the end of the month!\" \nThat's fine, he was an asshole anyway. \n\"What was that?!\" \nOh shit, I said that out loud. Quick, needed to say what I actually meant. \n\"I need... Walter!\" \n\"Get it yourself once you sobered up. Can't believe you... published that shit.\" \nNailed it. Wait, published what? \n\"Your DAMN story! About your asshole roommate and the shit I---\" He drew a breath. \"That was your day to take out the trash! And how was I supposed to know you were dog sitting?! I was kidding about that threesome.\" \nOh no he wasn't. \n\"I WAS TOO!\" \nGood, he heard me. \n\"Why the hell are you talking like... you know what, I don't want to know. Two weeks. Then you get out of my apartment.\" \nThen pEEe-tuh slammed the door again. After the world stopped rattling, I clawed my way to my desktop. If what I think he said was true--- \nOh good lord. \nI got published?! \n\"I KNOW! SHUT UP!!\" \nNeeded to stop talking my mind, before I get myself in thirsty. \nOh right, the glass of water. \n\"PEEEET.\" \n\"NO!\" \nWhat an asshole. \n\n-----------------\n\nMore at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!" ]	4
	[WP] Leonardo DiCaprio doesn't win the Oscar for The Revenant. He becomes reclusive and disappears from the public eye for awhile. Then members of the academy begin to disappear...	[ " It's been seven years since \"The Academy\" took control. At first the changes were subtle. Big budget blockbusters gaining the most votes, African Americans absent from the acting categories. A few people took notice, but the media made them out to be Extremists. Fanatics. Naggers.\n The \"Event\" occurred on Feb. 28, 2016. Those watching from Russia know it as \"The Great Denial\". Prophesied and loosely translated from an ancient Bangladeshi text it reads as \"Sad Day Italian Lion\". But no matter what you choose to call it, the fact remains that the world has never been the same. \n 48 hours ago Senator Pitt and Secretary of Defense Jolie-Pitt were reported missing twenty seven minutes after landing while on a \"peace keeping\" mission in Greater L.A. Prime.\n Four hours ago Senator Pitts body was found with apperant signs of a bear attack and a model airplane stuck in his throat. President Baldwin hasn't been seen in public in 72 hours. Vice President Alec Baldwin claims President Billy is recovering from the flu.\n \nSorry guys, I'm drunk and don't write much. This is all I've got. Thanks! I love this sub!\n", "A crazed giggling slowly pulled Michael Fassbender from his sleep. Two things became clear to him as his senses slowly came back to him: this was not his hotel room, and he was tied to a chair. He also suspected he had been drugged, because his mind was too foggy for the panic that should come from this situation to set in.\n\nHe started to look around the room, which he realized was some sort of auditorium. The hard, metal chair he was tied to was sitting on a hardwood stage, and all the lights were on him.\n\nThe giggling could be heard again, coming from somewhere in the audience, followed by a slow clapping. Michael strained to see where it was coming from, but the lights were too bright. He was starting to sweat, the gravity of the situation finally starting to break through the stupor the drugs had put his mind in.\n\n\"Let me be the last to congratulate you on winning Best Actor.\" a familiar voice called.\n\nA face, one Michael hadn't seen since the Oscars back in 2016, came into view walking down the path between the door and the stage. Leonardo DiCaprio had been disappointed, once again, when he didn't take home the Oscar, and had all but vanished. He only made occasional appearances at A-list parties, and even then he left early.\n\n\"L-Leo? What's going on?\" Michael tried to ask, though it sounded more like 'lee was gone'.\n\n\"Ah, that's the drugs.\" Leo said, a devilish grin spreading across his face, \"Everyone else was having trouble, too. Lucky for you, you won't have to deal with it for too long...\" another mad giggle.\n\n\"Everyone else?\", Michael thought.\n\nHe tried to push through the fog in his mind, something was niggling at the back of it, but he couldn't quite pin it down. All he could see was a newspaper, with the headline 'Hanks Goes Missing, Police Baffled'.\n\n\"Ah well. The worst part about all this? I actually really enjoy you as an actor. In fact, I have to hand it to you, you're the first person in that chair I've actually regretted having to put there.\" he shrugged, then pulled out a knife.\n\n\"Why are you doing this?\" Michael asked, fear gripping what little of his mind he still had control over.\n\n\"Because I'm done playing second fiddle, and what better way to get a leg up than to remove some of the competition.\" he punctuated the sentence by pulling out a long knife and thrusting it in Michael's direction.\n\nLeo climbed on stage, and walked slowly, menacingly towards the chair. If Michael had any strength left in him, he would've struggled, but whatever Leo had given him was keeping him from moving. He tried to scream, but all that came out were retching noises.\n\n\"Now, now. Don't be that way, it'll go a lot easier if you don't move.\" the knife plunged deep into his chest.\n\nLeo twisted and pulled the blade out before jamming it in again at a different angle, cackling like a crone the entire time. He stabbed three more times, and Michael could feel his life slowly leak out of him. His vision began to blur, and Leo cleared his throat. He started to slowly walk away.\n\n\"Hey,\" Leonardo said as he neared the edge of the stage, \"Think about it this way, now you can ask Steve how he liked your performance.\n\nThe last thing he heard before he finally slipped into darkness was a giggle followed by one last, well-rehearsed line, \"I'd like to thank the Academy for this...\"\n\n", "It started with accidents. Hit by a train, falling off bridges. Then more and more succumbed to the strangest of deaths. Crushed by a grand pipe organ. Impaled by microphone stands. Some say the pressure finally caught up to them. Others call it karma.\n\nBut by the nineteenth or twentieth member, the academy began to notice patterns. Every Martian supporter died of causes related to potatoes. Even those retired members with random falling pianos were found out to have voted for Adrien Brody. When people started to die of suffocation from Matthew McConaughey masks, they realized these weren't accidents.\n\nAcademy members walked out of studios wary of their surroundings. They reported feeling followed, but never catching the culprit. Only glimpses of a filthy, scraggly homeless man turning a corner. Some say he was in a huge fur suit.\n\nThey recalled the 2016 Oscars. Leonardo DiCaprio had been the frontrunner for The Revenant. There was so much expectation that his loss was a total surprise. The cutaway that strained on his face when Bryan Cranston thanked his wife said more than we ever needed to know. That was the last we saw of him.\n\nNow as academy member #132 lies below the axe, he starts to connect the dots. \"Leo, Leo,\" he says, \"Let me go. I won't tell anyone. No one will know it's you. Please.\" The axe slowly rises. \"Shh,\" the Titanic actor whispers, \"let's make you a Danish Girl.\"", "Leo felt that it was a cruel and unusual punishment, that he'd have to watch the Oscars in prison, but a part of him wanted to see who would win this year, who would steal yet another one of his victories, and so kept quiet.\n\nSpotlights and curtains on the TV. It was all very familiar to him. Leo'd been in that same room, walked that same carpet quite a few times by now. He had to remind himself not to spit on the screen.\n\nHis beard and hair were unshaven, down to his shoulders and with flecks of gray from the years and the stress. Something of his boyish good looks would have remained, had it not been for his eyes. They were cold blue, and as dead as a starless sky.\n\nHe hadn't meant to do it. Not at first. It had all started when one of the Academy had invited him to a private dinner. They had talked, and they had laughed, and things had been going relatively well until she'd brought up Django Unchained and the character of Candie. And then Leo found himself standing over a corpse. He'd used a wine glass. The blood was real and red on his hands. And he had enjoyed it.\n\nOne by one, once a year, Leo killed them. Another rejection, another corpse. Someone should've caught on by then. But no one did until number seven.\n\nIt'd been seven years since the incident with the dinner. This year, Leo had played Albert Einstein. He was getting wild and old enough to look the part. He'd studied every breathing moment for that role. He'd even created a new quantum theory, in his research.\n\nAnd he'd lost, to Samuel Jackson, who'd played Morgan Freeman in a biopic. The nerve! All he had to do was make his voice sound deep and croaky! Leo chose a baseball bat that night.\n\nHis victim was tougher than he'd thought. He lived a bit longer to. Long enough to write the word \"Leo\" in blood on the floor. The trial was quick. All the pieces had fallen into place. Leo was tried and imprisoned for seven counts of murder and a moving violation.\n\nThe story was sensational. Hollywood's golden boy, a murderer all this time. Crack theories and new revelations would linger on headlines for months. They wrote books about it. Some idiot even made a movie. Oscar Bait, it was called. It looked fake, dumb, and poorly written. Leo hadn't bothered with it. HE was too busy waiting for the electric chair.\n\nHe blinked away from the television and stared at the wall. It wasn't fair. Just one time. One time, and he wouldn't have had to kill all those people. A single teardrop rolled down his wrinkled cheek. He stared at blank white until he heard the word \"Best Actor\" come from the screen.\n\nHe whirled around.\n\n\"And tonight's Best Actor award...\"\n\nHe held his breath.\n\n\"Goes to...\"\n\nWho would cheat him now?\n\n\"Elijah Wood, for his portrayal of Leonardo Dicaprio in Oscar Bait!\"" ]	4
	[WP] You, Leonardo Decaprio, have just won an Oscar. That night, you are visited by your future self who gives you a dire warning.	[ "He closed the door on his agent. He smiled to himself as he leaned against the closed door. He started slightly as the heavy award clunked against the door-frame. He rubbed uncle Oscars head and gave him an apologetic pat. He stumbled toward his bed, clutching his golden little friend, as he went in search of some rest. \n\nCavernous hotel suites create special problems when tired or drunk, but eventually he settled in an ungainly heap on top of his bed. \n\nHe jerked awake and peered round is surroundings, there was definitely a man’s voice somewhere in his suite. He paused, unsure whether to call for help or investigate. Curiosity won out and he swung his feet to the floor and walked out into the next room. Standing with his back to him there was a man, well dressed grey-haired, and balding. \n\n“What are you doing here?” He asked. \n\n“Ah you are awake,” the stranger’s voice was oddly familiar. “I need to tell you the most important thing you have ever heard, I have only a few minutes to tell you, and you need to not freak out.”\n\n“Just get out, I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” He made to wiggle the statuette to illustrate his point, but sudden realisation he was not holding it hit him. The figure turned and a familiar face stared back at him. \n\n“Dad?” \n\n“No, although I suppose I see what you mean.” The figure chuckled “I’m you twenty years from now, and spoilers, you don’t keep your hair.” He gasped as realisation dawned. \n\n“I’m asleep, oh thank god for that.” He relaxed slightly as he spoke, his agent had said he needed a break. The figure chuckled again.\n\n“Nope, this is real and you to have to listen. Your next project, the biopic. Don’t do it, quit it and do something else.” The figure’s tone became firm. “Film creates a following, the followers became a religion and starts the war.”\n\n“War?”\n\n“The Dirty War, domestic terror which escalates into a global conflict rendering much of the world uninhabitable.” The figure looks down lost in the moment. “I and by that I mean you have come back to tell you to change to future, my present, and save 8 billion souls.” There were tears in his eyes as he spoke. \n\n“Why should I believe you?” \n\n“In a minute Room service calls with your alarm call and ask whether you need the safe deposit service. They say there is a message from you father as well.” As the stranger finished speaking the phone began to ring. Rushing back to his bed he answered it all the while keeping his eyes on the stranger. There stranger’s hands were shaking now, and his leg had a slight tremor. \n\n“So you have accomplices, so what? I have asked them to send some guys up.” \n\n“I know, and it doesn't matter.” The stranger’s eyes were fixed on a corner of the room \n\n“You coward!” came bellowing voice from the other room. “Deserter, Betrayer” it screamed as he rushed in to see another, younger man tackle the older stranger grappling him to the ground. He had no time to react as his Oscar was swung repeatedly in great overhead arcs by the younger man, leaving the older stranger as bloody mess. \n\n“You have nothing to worry about now, I have saved you, I mean us.” His stomach sank as he saw a double of himself dressed in a uniform and covered with unspeakable gore. “Do the film, all of this, the hotel and your people make this go away. Just a crazy old man, a star struck intruder.” His bloodied self was making his skin crawl, the fixed smile and dead eyed stare was unnerving. \n\n“Goodbye, and stay the course.” His double saluted him, smearing blood on his face. “For the new dawn!” He ‘popped’ out of existence leaving the carnage behind. \n\nHe ran over to the prone figure, who flinched as he checked his pulse. \n\n“I die here, I changed nothing,” he bubbled through a ruined mouth. “The Goat will rise and the world will burn.” He shuddered and was still.\nThe door burst open and hotel security rushed in. \n\n“Mr DeCaprio, sir are you hurt?”\n\nHe shook his head silently as he watch the blood drip from his Oscar.\n\n", "\"Congratulation Mr. Dicaprio!\" the Bellman told Leo as the newly-christened Oscar winner sauntered past him,\"Champagne is in the room.\"\n\n\"Thanks man,\" said leo, tipping the man well and closing the door. He removed his jacket and tie, threw them on chair and moved into the sitting room.\n\nThe lights had been dimmed and he saw the room service cart with flutes and bottles. And then he saw the man.\n\nAn older man with craggy features and a white, slightly longer than fashionable beard stood behind the cart. Tall and slim he was plainly dressed in gray slacks and white button up. His hands were folded and he looked at leo with a sad smile on his face.\n\n\"Oh hi, didn't realize I got a bartender too, pour me a scotch my friend and one for yourself, you can have the rest of the night off,\" Leo slipped his shoes off, and fell into a plush club chair, allowing his eyes to close for a moment, feeling bits of every emotion from the evening.\n\n\"Sir,\" the barman had a tumbler in each hand, one being offered to Leo.\n\n\"Thanks,\" he took the glass, and then the man rather unceremoniously took the chair opposite, gazing intently at the now somewhat confused actor.\n\n\"I saw your script,\" the bartender said, pointing with the hand holding the glass to the small hotel safe. There was nothing in his tone, Leo felt it was the most neutral use of speech he had ever heard, it betrayed nothing, indicated nothing beyond the fact that this man had read words off of paper. \n\nLeo felt something very cold touch him, the script was a passion project...no more than that, it was a piece of his beating heart written in ink. It was also a secret, not one shared among a few friends or his handlers or his agent, but a real true secret that only he knew. And Leo knew how to keep a secret.\n\nThe cold was being replaced with heat. Leo bared his teeth and leaned forward, \"Get the fuck out! I'll deal with your manager tomorrow,\" leo stood. \"Fuckin' snoop.\"\n\n\"No snooping Mr. Dicaprio, I wouldn't sneak through another man's things, and even if I had poked around in your stuff I still wouldn't have, the script hasn't left that safe all evening.\"\n\n\"That work is a secret and it's the only copy, so explain yourself and then I'm calling the cops!\"\n\n\"I know it's a secret, and I know it's one you've never told anyone else. Just like you never told anyone that when you were ten you peaked through the window of the older girl next door that you had a crush on and saw her dancing in her underwear. The song was by White Snake...\"\n\n\"...pour some sugar on me,\" whispered Leo, \"her underwear...\"\n\n\"...were bright pink. You never told anyone, you wanted that memory just for you. It's not weird that you go after leggy blondes. You thought it would be one of the best memories of your life, it still is.\"\n\nLeo stood very still. His famous gaze very intense as he looked deeply into this man's eyes. A weird sense of vertigo washed over him. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"Leo, I am you from 20 years in the future, we have created time travel and I have been sent back to tell you your fortune, offer some knowledge and present you a choice. You'll hate it.\"\n\nIf there was one thing locked away in the memory banks of Dicaprio's mind, the day he long considered to be the day he stepped into manhood, it was his stolen moment with the girl. The vertigo moment occurred again, looking into the man's eyes, he realized that was because the only time he ever had this view was when he was shaving in the mirror. \n\nLeo sat. The two men had not broken eye contact in a long time.\n\nThe man Leo was already thinking of as himself(old) gestured again to the safe.\n\n\"That script that you've been working on so long is your magnum opus, you will receive oscars not only for acting, but also direction and writing. It will reverberate from the moment it is seen until society collapses, which is about eight years later, and that collapse begins with the movie you're calling The Ladder, but you'll eventually settle on Sojourn .\"\n\nLeo twitched, he was lost in the possibilities of his work that to hear it ended so abruptly...and rather savagely. He also heard the certainty in the man's voice about the title, and agreed with it, because leo was certain that Sojourn is exactly what his movie was called.\n\nOld Leo continued. \"The film has you in a series of vignettes portraying various characters and the struggle of each as they make their way in the modern world. Each story explores the unfairness and inequality in each situation and time, be it desperation, or struggle or war, you penetrate the issue. You deliver a stunning performance in each, you inspire people...alot of people. It woke people up to the struggles of our times and the actual battle between populations. Your delivery of the bureaucrat creating registries for populations disquieted many people, as it mirrored many of the concerns for privacy and information dissemination. Your portrayal of the man living in drought conditions woke the world up to water shortages. You as the eastern European human smuggler made real the plight of enslaved people real. Your acting became a light and people flocked to it, your speeches at first played for football teams before games. And then they were played before demonstrations...then soldiers as they took battle drugs before the slaughters...\" Old Leo looked out the window of the night sky. leo knew he was seeing something else.\n\nHere Old Leo sighed,\"However, that inspiration led to class wars, rioting, governments killing or abandoning it's own people, then those people turning on one another.\"\n\nLeo tried to digest this. \"it's just a movie. it'll be in development hell for years, no one will let me make it, it's too out there.\"\n\nOld Leo nodded with his eyes closed. \"Eight years, and you've developed alot of contacts who are hungry for a challenge, you achieve funding goals well within time, and the entire process goes smoothly. You're happy, you win record Oscar gold, and you absolutely can't make this film. There is more, not only will you win Oscar gold with this work, but you won't win anymore without it. You'll make amazing movies, alot of money and you still run with the model crowd, but never again will you achieve this peak.\" He indicated the gold statuette on the coffe table. \"That can be it, I came here tonight to catch you at your height, so that you would know the cost to your ego, to know that it would save millions of lives.\" \n\nSomeone knocked on the door\n\nOld Leo stood, \"That's your agent John. I know what choice you make, and I'm sorry, but I also know why you make it.\" He set the tumbler down and moved to the bedroom door. He turned to leo and winked, stepped into the room and shut the door.\n\nLeo stirred, blinking. \"Hey wait...\" He hurried to the bedroom door and wrenched it open to an empty room.\n\nThere was another rapping on the hotel door.\n\nIn a daze, leo walked over and opened it, meeting the eyes of his agent. He began to speak, Leo stopped him.\n\nIt was a good night.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "“Psst,” he hears from his left. “Wake up!”\n\nLeo groggily turns over, rubbing at his eyes. “Hmm?” It wasn’t the woman he’d brought upstairs for a more intimate party. At this, he fully sits up. What on earth! There, in the corner of the room was himself, translucent and looking a bit worse for wear but definitely him – he’d seen himself enough times onscreen to recognize himself! Leo thinks. How is one supposed to act in such a situation after all! There’s got to be a logical explanation. He can still hear revelers from downstairs celebrating his Oscar win and it seems to be going well. No alarms have gone off and he’s still alive so Faux-Leo probably meant no harm. “AH HA!” He finally settles on the only possible explanation. “Oh I get it. Celebration prank. Get out here!” he yells. \n\nNothing happens. The crew that he expected did not materialize. Instead, Faux-Leo gestures at him. Leo looks at him perplexed, getting more and more agitated by the second. He stands up slowly, walking towards this intruder. He’d been so certain that this was an elaborate set up by the crew. They has the access to all the special effects equipment to pull something like this off. But boy, was he in for a shock when he got closer! \n\nThink back on the projectors of old. The kind they had in the cinemas from the Golden Age of Hollywood, where they played the kind of movies that inspired him to become an actor, Astaire and Bogart were king, and movies didn’t rely on special effects or shock factors but on acting – pure and simple. Faux-Leo looked exactly like one of those projections. His curiosity gets the best of him. “Can you speak?” he asks. \n\nThe figure shakes his head. He then points to the door and disappears. Leo quickly opens the door and looks out. A red carpet-covered walkway had appeared – one that certainly was not there before – leading to his home theater. He follows the path, pauses outside the door when he sees the light from under the door slit. Nobody was allowed in here! He pushes open the door and was surprised for the third time. \n\nInstead of his home theater, he was looking at a massive stage and a giant audience! In fact, it looked like the stage he had just given his Oscar speech on. It’d been about damn time too! Suddenly, everything goes dark. A screen lowers to cover the stage. “Welcome to the 2017 Oscars!” he hears from the speakers.\n\nFor the first time of the evening, he stumbles. What on earth! \n\n“…. And now, a moment of silent for our dearly beloved Leonardo DiCaprio, who left us way too soon. Many had projected that he would have won Best Actor for Revenant II…”\n\nLeo breaks out in cold sweat. Of all the ways for this to end, this was not it. He spots Brad in the distance and stumbles over. Nobody pays him any attention. \n\nBrad had his eyes closed in a grimace, looking like he’s holding back tears. He opens his eyes when Angelina places a comforting hand on his knee. “If only he hadn’t wanted that second Oscar enough to shoot the sequel, he wouldn’t have been attacked by those wannabes!” \n", "“Well mate,” said Leo, pouring himself a glass of wine. “Looks like you finally bagged the bloody award.” \nLeo stared back at Leo, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. \nLeo chuckled. “What’s the matter?” He drained the glass in one go. “Shocked to see me?” \n“Why am I….” \n“What? Seeing myself in front of me?” \n“No, why do I have an Australian accent?” \n“Ah well. You see mate,” begin Leo, settling into Leo’s favourite armchair, “it all goes to hell into the future. Everything has- no, will change.” \nA long silence followed. \n“And yeah, I don’t ask about the accent. Kinda picked it up while on the run.” \n“On the run?” \n“Ah, yes. Well, you see mate, you’re achievement tonight has triggered something powerful. You just flustered every expert, and have completely destroyed the stock market.” \n“Say what.” \n“Well, the meme stock market. As we speak, thousands of people are losing their bloody heads, phones are ringing, names are being called, and most importantly, when all this reaches breaking point, you’re the wanker they’re gonna blame.” \nLeo gazed at the Award wearily. “All that chaos…because of this?” \n“Well, that, and you pissed of Trump with the climate change thing. He also wants to kill you. Will want to, that is.” \nLeo stood up, straightening his posture. “Aright, Leo. What do I do? Destroy the Oscar?” \n“Nah, mate. That won’t save the meme market. You can’t change the future, everything that should happen, will happen. You need to run, mate. Go to Canada. They’ll find you.” \n“They?” \n“The Cult of Di Caprio. They’ve been watching over you, for years, making sure you got the right roles, keeping you safe. Hell, they’re the reason you got those extra minutes during your speech.” \n“What even-“ \n“Go to them, mate. A war is coming.” Leo stood up from the armchair, and begin pacing the carpeted floor. “Families will be torn apart, countries will fall, memes we never knew existed will surface, children will be orphaned…” \n“..and I get an Aussie accent?” \nLeo nodded gravely. “And you get an Australian accent.” \nHe placed a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Clock’s ticking, mate. You need to run, and you need to remember- no matter how dark it seems-“ \n“Its always darkest before the dawn?” \n“-you gotta hold on to that bloody Oscar.” Leo finished. “I’ll be going now. You know what to do.” \nLeo watched as Leo walked out of the hotel room. He reached for the empty glass, refilling it as he lost himself in thought. Downing the glass, he stood up and reached for the Academy Award, clutching it with purpose. \nHe had work to do.\n", "\"...I'm going to level with you, Leo.\" He/I said to me, stroking his distinguished goatee with his perfectly manicured hands.\n\n\"...Yes?\" \n\n\"That award that you just received... is meaningless.\"\n\nI pressed my fingers to my lips. How to put this intelligently?\n\n\"Well, duh.\"\n\n\"You're an experienced actor-\"\n\n\"-Yes I am-\"\n\n\"-cleared billions at the Box Office-\"\n\n\"-Yes-\"\n\n\"-and you continue to pursue your humanitarian efforts and creative development as one of the premier creative actors in Hollywood, (which does continue into the future, by the way), but you're in danger now, because now people... might get suspicious.\"\n\n\"They... might? About what?\"\n\n\"About the fact that, despite the fact that you have never said so in interviews or anywhere else, that you were desperate for a win, they came to the conclusion that you were. Even though you told them the truth, that it wasn't really important for you, they still got it into their heads that it was. Even though you naturally gravitate towards the kind of extreme, amplified roles (that are normally considered the fodder for those awards), they still think that you were really on the hunt for a statue.\"\n\nI began to grow nervous.\n\n\"Somehow, they think that you crave approval, without really needing it. There's nothing that the public resents more than a person who sees accolades as truly superfluous, nothing more dangerous to a performer that depends on getting roles based on their bank-ability... How incredibly convenient it was for you to not need to constantly waste your creative energy bolstering the illusion that you hung on the whims of a bunch of outsiders, while still reaping the benefits of it. They have time to think on that, now. To realize that they can't quite place that moment that they were certain that you wanted one-\"\n\nI swallowed, hating the sudden tightness of the starched collar of my tuxedo... \"Listen, I don't know-\"\n\n\"-There's a chance now, that they might work out what you've done to them. And their anger... will be Biblical, because even after facing the truth, some part of them will still believe it.\"\n\nHe pulled out a pipe. I only smoked for roles, but I guess at some point, that changed. He puffed once, twice, then looked over the burning cherry...\n\n\"...That is the danger. Some might remember now, how an idea is like a virus...\"", "\"Leo,\" a man said to Leo as he opened his eyes. It was a strange thing for DiCaprio, hearing a man in the bedroom rather than one of the 46 woman that voulenteered to pet him to sleep every night. Leo looked around for the man, but couldn't see him beyond the limbs and gold body paint that he'd used that night. There had to be someone in here.\n\n\"Leo,\" the voice said again and Leo realized that the voice was coming from one of the woman he'd spent the night with. He didn't recognize her, or remember her name, but that wasn't strange. What was strange was her voice, and the fact that her eyes looked like his in the mornings. \n\n\"What?\" Leo asked as one of the women that was firmly wrapped around him nuzzled his chest.\n\n\"You need to get rid of that oscar for some reason,\" the woman said in a man's voice.\n\n\"I just won it.\"\n\n\"Yes, and so did I, ten years ago, but you don't win another.\"\n\n\"I totally could.\"\n\n\"No you can't the Oscar starts being seen as some sort of lifetime achievement award given to people who 'Haven't gotten an Oscar yet, and you're on the wrong list now.\"\n\n\"So.\"\n\n\"I really wanted an Oscar,\" the woman said as she cupped her breasts, \"so I got a sex change, if Christain Bale could be fat and win I could add boobs and win right?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"But you never go back, you keep choosing more and more marginalized roles in an attempt to impress the academy. First it was just playing women, but then you change your skin colour and start playing everyone.\"\n\n\"So I get diverse and represent people,\" Leo said and moved his leg a little to the right, the pile of women on top of him shifted like a mass of attention.\n\n\"NO, you represent everyone. At a certain point you,\" the woman paused, \"we\" have played everyone in the world. There isn't a movie that is made without us playing at least six parts. We are better at being everything than anyone else is.\"\n\n\"That sounds great,\" Leo said.\n\n\"It's not Leo,\" the woman said, \"you love movies and this ruins them for you. You don't have time to watch movies anymore, you're too busy being directed by Angelina Jolie. She gets to sit in the chair that you wanted, but you're too good an actor for it.\"\n\n\"So I need to-\"\n\n\"Disappear Leo, become someone unknown, for the sake of movies.\"\n\n\"Can I bring the women with me?\" he asked. Leo would have moved his arm, but he was under a pile of people.\n\n\"Eh, sure,\" the me from the future said, \"what harm can it do?\"\n\nThe answer to that question was simple, one of the women would convince me to get back into acting, because I couldn't tell, nobody could, that another one of the women was just me wearing a wig and a bra." ]	6
	[WP] You found a 20$ dollar bill . Tell its story .	[ "\"So,there I was, hot off the presses,when some smart ass swipes me. I know what ye're thinkin' and you're correct:\n\nHe only skimmed 20 dollars? Dream a little smalleh, numbnuts. But if that's what he's been doing for the last few years,probably has a nice nest egg ready for him.\n\nAnyways,he put me in the same pocket as his keys, so that evening when he was goin' inta his apartment,I was able to make my getaway. When he took his keys out, I booked\n\nAnyways, I'm here now,let's talk about buyin' stiff\"\n\nMaybe but not today. Today I'm too busy being freaked out Andrew Jackson sounding like a network TV gangster. Either way,I knew I had to cut down on the shrooms ", "I looked upon the $20 bill that lay upon my desk. It was torn, but still usable. It had a story and a defiance about it. As it lay there, it seems to glare up at me and say.\n\nLook upon me and know despair, for you cannot escape me. You cannot resist me. You cannot survive without me. I am legion and the very life blood of your world. \n\nKnow despair, mere mortal, mere human. I control you. I control your world. There is none that can stand before me and none dare. Others have and others have failed. Their pretentious leaders cried out their own champions in sound and fury, signifying their impotence against my influence, against my power, against me.\n\nThough I am not the greatest of the legion. Though I am not the smallest. I am the most trusted. The most needed. My smaller brethren occupy too much space. My larger brethren are untrusted because too many attempt to fake their existence.\n\nYou need me. You cannot escape that fact: you are mine.\n\nI pondered this little beast and its grandiose boastings and replied:\n\nWhat of solidus? The talent? What of gold? What of the Frank? Marx? They too once stood there and proclaimed their godhood and now? \n\nWhat of...I whispered...the pound? \n\nI am different! cried the dollar. I shall reign supreme and forever! You cannot resist!\n\nBut some have started, oh mighty dollar. The Yuan? Bitcoin? Others still. What say you to that!\n\nMere fads! I am supreme and shall remain! Look upon your wallet and despair!\n\nI grimaced and shook my head. This little paper Ozymandias glared back in self assured defiance. This too would pass, I knew, but for today, the buck stopped here. \n\nI grabbed the little beast and stuck him in my wallet. So, for a time, at least, I would not have to think about him.", "The year is 1985. A crisp slice of bark is interlaced with ink in the maws of a steel monstrosity as non-descript, blue collar workers bustle about. Above them, elites and beuracratic players watch from behind a large pane of glass as the money press does their bidding.\n\nThe rest of the world, just shy of 5 billion strong, pays no mind to the corrugated sheet that rolls along the federal reserve's floor. The sheet enters the final steel box and separates into even crisper twenty dollar bills. A unique ten digit serial number marks one of the bills. We'll call this bill 147, by its middle three digits.\n\n147 joins the system like the good, obedient legal tender that it is. And then it sits. For 5 years it sits in a cold steel box similar to the one that made it. 147 sits at the top of a stack of its brethren, and feels each loss as the stack shrinks. Then one day, it's 147's turn. \n\n147 is thrust into a blinding light. Pulled, silent and uncaring, by a woman's hand, which passes it into a man's hand, which passes it into another hand, and so on and so forth.\n\n147 travels from New York in a purse, to a convenience store in Virginia, to the wallet of the store's owner, to the dusty poker table of the store owner's friend, to the store owner's friend's wallet, to a liquor store in west Virginia, to the front pocket of a traveling college student, to a birthday card. And finally, in 1995, 147 sits at the bottom of a desk drawer, among the belongings of a 14 year old birthday boy in Utah.\n\n147 thought his journey was over. Used for many years, he was no longer the hopeful and vibrant crisp bill he had started as. Happy to finally be in the cool, dark drawer, 147 slept.\n\n147 stayed inside the birthday card, below books, supplies and many trinkets that the birthday boy accumulated. In 1997, the drawer took on a weird smell, and colorful, glass trinkets joined 147 in the drawer. 147 was in for a rude awakening, his journey was not yet over.\n\nOne day, in the summer of 1998, the birthday boy, now 17 years old, ripped 147 away from his home. He crumpled him up and shoved him in a jean pocket. The world was a rocky and chaotic place, after a few hours 147 saw light again. 147 was passed over to the birthday boy's drug dealer, who passed over a gram of high grade cannabis.\n\nGone were the days of wallets, purses and cold cash registers and drawers. 147 was violently manhandled, crumpled up, shoved and torn. Pocket to pocket, sweaty palms to dry cracked hands with open sores. Always weird smells and substances accompanying 147's exchange, instead of sweet bakery smells and department store perfumes.\n\nFinally, in the midst of being used to insufflate a line of cocaine, 147 was liberated by an army of swat. He once again found himself in a cool, dark place. This time, 147 was among many objects with labels and warnings. Weapons, drugs and other poor, misused bills kept him company in the evidence room until February 2016.\n\nThat February, OP's dad, who was the police chief, gave OP a tour of the evidence locker. OP had been asking his dad for the tour for a while now since he needed more ideas for writing prompts. \n\n\n\n" ]	3
Gogogogo!	[WP] "It's a dangerous job, I won't lie to ya. But there's a lot of money to be made."	[ "I won't lie, that line alone had hooked me.\nSitting up there on that billboard as I drove into the city each day. Taunting me even.\n\"Pistols Peter's Mystery Slop- It's a dangerous job, I won't lie to ya...\"\nThat goddamned wink.\n\"But there's a lot of money to be made.\"\nAnd that goddamned smile.\n\nPistol Peter was right, it is a dangerous job. But in a sense any job is dangerous...\nBut this one? This takes the cake he also said.\n\nI remember the office so well. It was bright. Not bright like the ER here, but bright like it had been bleached too clean, what the walls must've seen at some stage.\nAt first I thought I'd walked into a porno casting room, same sort of feel. But then he laughed and knew what I was thinking, said it happened all the time...\nI wasn't far off.\n\nSee...See, Pete, as he wanted me to call him, was an inventor. An engineer. \nA settler if you will. Out on the plains of existence, bringing what was out there, here. To bring us into the new world. The real world. The synthetic world. The interactive world.\nThe living fleshlight world.\n\nI didn't wonder what was so dangerous when he first said that, I can admit that. I didn't think about the morals of myself getting into the industry, or the science behind it. But Pete was adamant, the Moola was Gouda.\nAnd it was gouda, that's what I thought about. \nSo I went ahead. The job went well for a while, no hiccups. Or spitbacks, as the guys down in shipping called them. I was head-tester, I laughed too. I was the man to...ahh...put it in. The risk was if the tube was feral. That was the money.\n'One had teeth once!' Pete said after my first day.\n\nWhich brings me here, in the ER, as a hostage. Hostage to a little fleshlight that became self aware. I remember laughing at Skynet in Terminator, now it wasn't so funny.\nI was literally caught by the balls...\nFuck me right?", "My heart was pounding so hard I'm surprised that my armor didn't rattle. My eyes watered, my nose burning from the unmistakable stretch of carnivore. I strained my ears for any sign of an immediate future involving disembowelment by foot-long teeth, but heard nothing. Fighting down that primitive part of my brain screaming run, you fool, I cursed every clink of shifting mail as I exhaled slowly and peered around the corner: the cave was empty!\n\nBreathing a sigh of relief, I stepped round the corner and scanned the gloom for my target. My gaze tumbled over the bones of numerous unknown animals, rocks, more bones... until they came to rest on a distinctly more organized pile of rocks, earth, and bones. The nest. Painfully aware that I was on borrowed time, with one last glance upward at the great shaft I knew served as the cave's main entrance, I scampered to the nest to inspect my prize. Three eggs there were, though thankfully I only needed one: my helm would have fit inside each egg several time over. The Guild maid's voice floated back through my head: \"It's a dangerous job, but there's good money in it.\"\n\nI eyed the egg nearest to me, sizing it up like an opponent. It was really going to take it out of me to carry that thing a mile and a half back to camp. I, however, came prepared: from a deep pouch in the satchel at my side, I withdrew a small flask of yellowish liquid. Saying a silent thank-you to the tough bastard of a creature whose carcass yielded the unique glands from which the potion was made, I tipped the bitter concoction down my throat. I hoped I had followed the apothecary's directions closely enough, when suddenly I got the feeling I'm looking for: all my weakness and weariness melting away.\n\nI crouched down and wrapped my arms around the closest egg. For a moment, I just sit there, until i strain and lift it up into a hug-like carry. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a shadow slip over the cave.\n\nAnd then I hear the roar.", "######[](#dropcap)\n\n\"What, being a freeblade? A sword for hire? I think I'll pass.\"\n\nHilary Flint sneered at Faith's words, the corner of his lip curling in disgust.\n\n\"Pass what, a chance at freedom? At carving out your own destiny?\"\n\n\"I'd rather not carve my destiny in the flesh of others,\" Faith retorted. \"You're a mercenary. Your ilk know nothing of honor.\"\n\nFlint laughed loud at that, his voice echoing off the stout tree trunks that lined the forest path. \n\n\"Honor? Honor doesn't fill your belly when your starving, doesn't keep you warm when the arctic winds blow down from the North. I've killed a hundred honorable foes, each one tasting my blade in the end. You speak of honor like it's a shield against all the evils and wrongs in this world. Well here's news for you, princess, honor ain't worth shit.\"\n\n\"Then what is of worth to you, Flint?\" Faith asked. He patted his belt and the coin purse tied to it.\n\n\"Drink, ass, food and gold in that order.\" He touched the hilt of his sword and the receiver of his rifle next.\n\n\"But above all a good gun and a sharp blade.\"\n\nFaith looked perplexed. \n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because,\" he answered in a singsong accent, dredging up ancient lessons. \"Iron, Cold Iron, is master of men all.\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"... Forget it.\"\n\nThe pair walked for a while longer in silence, the songs of the birds filling the gulf. It was only when the sun rose an hour higher that Faith spoke again.\n\n\"So why are you a freeblade?\"\n\n\"Because I'm good at it. Because it's all I know how to do. Because the world won't let me be anything else.\"\n\n \n", "The cloaked man dropped his business card in my hand and disappeared before I could even thank him. I had to admit I hadn't expected to get the call before I was even out of high school. I hadn't done much to deserve it yet, a couple mean facebook statuses. Maybe with my pedigree that was all I needed. Either that, or they didn't give a shit what I did because of who I was. It didn't really matter in the end.\n\nI dialed the phone number on the black card into my cellphone. My hands were shaking as I did it and I needed to retype the number twice. I didn't want to fuck this up. I pulled the phone to my ear and leaned against the wall outside of the grocery store. I pulled my jacket tight as the phone rang the first time, and tapped my foot once it rang a second time.\n\n\"Hello?\" the voice on the other end asked. I turned over the black business stock in my hand and read the name off of the back, \"Hensen,\" I said.\n\n\"Right away.\"\n\nThe line went dead for a moment as I was transferred. I pulled the phone away from my ear so they wouldn't hear me taking a deep breath. I needed to seem cool as a cucumber, or even ice. You only got one shot at the phone call after all.\n\n\"Jim Henson's speaking, you got our card?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said, I caught my voice just before it broke.\n\n\"Please say your name.\"\n\n\"Silas Vermillion.\"\n\n\"Please hold Silas.\"\n\nThe line went dead again and I felt my lungs tightening up. I needed people watching me do this, but I knew that this was the one thing in my life that I needed to do alone. An old lady walked by, she didn't nod at me, and I kept my eyes off of her. \n\n\"Silas?\" the voice on the other end asked.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Are you confident about your decision to join the school?\" the man said. I could hear the tone in his voice telling me that 'no' wasn't really an option. I'd called, and that meant I was in or I was out of a lot more than a school. \n\n\"Yes,\" I said after a pause that was a second too long. The man held his tongue on the other end. \n\n\"Very well,\" he said, \"the Jim Henson School of Super Villainy would be glad to have you, please pack your bags and meet us at the texted address at 2am this morning. Delays aren't appreciated.\" The line went dead before I could ask a question. My phone kicked back to the home screen and I glared a hole in it waiting for the text. It didn't come until my bags were long packed and I was ready to sneak out. \n\nMy father was the hero, I wasn't cut out for it. I was going to be the greatest villain that the world had ever seen. It was a tough job, but there was a world to be made.", "I looked over the bow of the ship, second guessing my decision of being on board for the season. The cold, salty sea spray stung my face, amplified by the chilly arctic air. I pulled the fur lined hood of my coat closer, attempting to dampen the assault of the elements against every inch of exposed skin, to no avail. I sighed deeply, my breath coming out in a thick plume of almost frozen condensation. \n\nI hear a barely audible shout, “All hands on deck!” \n\nIt was the seasoned captain of the ship. The sound of his words nearly lost, caught on the rippling winds that swirled around us. I turn, careful to try and keep my footing as a massive wave smashes against the hull of the ship, nearly sending me reeling. I catch myself before I stumble, stealing a glimpse of the captain through the chilly haze. The Captain is a lifelong seaman, weathered, with an attitude, and a beard to match. He seemed unphased by the constant assault of the waves, his footing steady as he moved with the rocking and swaying of the boat. The Captain gestures for me to come over.\n\n“Quickly!” He bellows. “And secure your safety!”\n\nI look down, quickly realizing that I was not secured to an anchor point on the boat. This could spell trouble, if the surf becomes more violent. I look over to where the rest of the crew are standing, getting ready to pull up our first catch of the day. I quickly make my way across the deck to secure myself to an anchor point. \n\nAt that moment, I hear a commotion and shouting from the crew as they frantically point and check to make sure they themselves are secured to the boat. I look up, and see a wave, easily three times the size of the vessel approaching rapidly. \n\n“Secure yourself!” The crew screams at me. \n\nI quickly scramble to the anchor point, attempting to clip myself to the boat. My fingers, so incredibly cold from the arctic air, are having an insurmountably difficult time managing the clip. I try once, twice, three times, to secure myself, but it was too late. I don’t even have time to react as the exceptional force of the wave crashes into the boat, throwing me against the railing of the ship. I manage to wrap my frozen glove around the rail, holding on with every last ounce of strength I possess, frantically attempting to pull myself back onto the boat. \n\n“Man overboard!” The Captain bellows, as the crew moves quickly towards me. \n\nI hold on with all my might, the crew is almost upon me. I’m almost safe. I’ll make it home alive after this. A determined grin spreads across my face, everything is going to be okay. My other hand manages to grip the railing now. Two hands firmly planted on the side of the ship. The crew only a few steps away now. They start to reach out, as a look of horror slowly spreads across their faces. I barely have time to register their looks as they frantically reach out for me before another massive blow from the ocean crashes against the ship. I feel myself being ripped from the railing, a single glove left behind, frozen in place as I crash into the water. \n\n\"It's a dangerous job, I won't lie to ya. But there's a lot of money to be made.\"\n\nFamous last words, I thought, watching the final traces of light disappear, as I sink deeper and deeper into the frozen sea." ]	5
	[WP] A man committed the most heinous crime imaginable. Why was it his only option?	[ "There's a woman tied to a chair within the basement of the house. Her body does a horrid twitch with every slam down of the axe against the dead body before. Once content with his handiwork, her captor kneels down to her and draws the back of his fingers against the side of her cheek. She feels horrified as the thick sensation of blood coats her soft skin, and all the man can do is grin.\n\n\"I will never hurt you... Nor will I ever touch you. You're the one I chose to keep.\"\n\nTears stream down her eyes and her sobs are gagged against the hankerchief that is in her mouth. She shakes her head and pulls her body away. The chair wobbles against the concrete floor as she does her best to get away. He places his finger against her lips, drawing in there with a quiet 'shhh...'\n\nHe made his way upstairs to where the last of the three women was tied to a bed. She could only watch as the man undressed himself and tossed his crimson clothes off to the side. \"w-Why are you doing this?\" She tried to kick at him as he crawled onto the bed, but he pinned her down by the ankles.\n\nHis smile stayed in place. Always grining. Perfect white teeth all in a line. \"You're about to be the most fun of all, did you know? This is all a part of my little game... Fuck. Marry. Kill.\"", "\"Why the fuck would make me do this?? You're sick, you know that, right?\"\n\nMy hands were clammy and shaking, I could see the sweat glistening on my forehead in the reflection of my computer monitor.\n\n\"I'm not making you do anything. This is your choice, do not attempt to frame it any other way.\"\n\nThe joystick controller suddenly felt like a foreign object, or maybe it was that I no longer felt I was attached to my own hands. The weight of what I knew I had to do was from all angles, my breath came short as if I was being increasingly suffocated by a boa constrictor. \n\n\"You aren't giving me a choice, this isn't fair. No.. it's not right. Evil, even.\"\n\nThe grey screen was slightly pixelated, but I could easily make out the shapes of children playing, parents off to the side socializing like anyone else would be. It was in the early evening in their time zone, and I was hiding the craft high enough in the sky that it was near impossible to see from the ground in the quickly fading light. \n\nThese people know better by this point, I'm sure. If they saw me hovering, they'd be running for cover so I'm sure I've maintained invisibility. \n\n\"Are you going to discuss morals with me?\"\n\n\"Is there... no other way?\"\n\n\"Like I said, it's not about what you do, but what you're willing to do. The choice is yours, it always has been.\"\n\nFuck it, I know he's right. In the midst of all this fucked up shit, I have to give him that. But that doesn't mean that it's a choice I can afford to compromise, especially when I know what's at stake.\n\nI focused my aim, and fired the missiles. Huge, low-quality balls of fire filled my screen, I could almost hear the screams through my monitor. After a several seconds the smoke began to clear, and I could see the bodies littering the ground. \n\nHe and I stood in silence, taking in the horrific scene. Finally he reached out and tossed the silver package onto my desk, bear logo facing up.\n\n\"Well you've earned it. Here's the last Klondike Bar.\"" ]	2
Do note that by steel I don't imply anything in particular, it can be a guardian with an iron will, or it can be a guardian made of steel, anything that loosely fit, really.	[WP] In the heart of the city our guardian lies, deep withing the city it's steel rises.	[ "The invaders approached Orion Prime, seeking out its riches. There were few survivors and even fewer military units on the planet after the Antaran war, but the flagship of the defense fleet, the Guardian, remained, manned by a skeleton crew. She was equipped with not steel, not titanium, not even zortrium, but practically impenetrable xentronium armor, and a plethora of death rays, particle beams, and plasma torpedoes. Larger than even the titan-class ships of the Psilon fleet besieging the system, the Guardian still might meet its match.\n\nHesitantly the crew opened the docking bay, allowing the massive flagship to rise out from under what functioned in peacetime as a parking lot for hovercars and other ground vehicles. Would the Guardian be able to successfully defend Orion Prime from the Psilons, or would the survivors be enslaved to the mighty Psilon Quanta?" ]	1
	[WP] The greatest comeback of all time.	[ "'Oh wow! Great Toby. Another disappointing time in bed!' Melissa said as she fished around in the bedside drawer.\n\n'Hey fuck you, Mel! I'm trying dammit. If we're going on disappointments why don't you go down and cook us some sub par food?' Toby said.\n\n'Okay, you want sub par like your self-esteem, or your penis size?'\n\n'Nice. Dick jokes. Real mature Mel,' Toby said as he hopped out of bed. 'The only thing more mature is the yeast on your infection. Are you making bread, beer, or what? Hmm?'\n\nMelissa gave up on her searchings in the bedside table and headed for the toilet. \n'Well at least bread would fill me up, and beer would keep me satisfied. Neither of which you do,' she said closing the door. 'Plus, they would give me energy. The only reason we're not pregnant is because your stupid swimmers can't even jump out of the starting block. \"You gotta bomb into the pool son, not dribble in\"' Melissa said, imitating Toby's friend David.\n\n'Least my friend's are real! How long did you spend in Duey County Institute? Was it a year or your whole childhood?' Dale said.\n\n'Making fun of my adoption?' Melissa said as the distinct sound of a flushing toilet echoed out from the door. 'Hear that? That's me flushing away your precious cargo load. I may as well shoot fake bullets at my twat with the blanks you're firing!' \n\n'Oh please, your dry humour is soooo funny! Do they still inspect you at the gyno, or does Dr Valerie just squeeze your tummy and look for the dust cloud?' Toby asked through the door.\n\n'I'm not sure really how to finish this? Do we end it?' Melissa asked.\n\n'Sorry, what?' Toby said.\n\n'That's what the doctor said when you born...'", "President-Elect Dr. Benjamin Solomon Carson, Sr. stood on the dais overlooking the crowded National Mall as Justice John Roberts nodded to him. As the crowd cheered his name on that cold, snowy January morning, he placed his hand on the bible-- one he personally selected from the library of Ellen White, a founder of the Seventh Day Adventist Church-- and he wondered how the Hell he'd ended up here.\n\nIt had started the night after Super Tuesday. Donald Trump was gloating about his wins across the nation, and Senators Rubio and Cruz were at each other's throats trying to secure the second-place spot. As for Carson, he was in negotiations with the three campaigns. Rubio and Cruz were eager for his support (and his handful of delegates), but Trump was unresponsive. Carson figured he was a lock for Secretary of Health and Human Services, maybe even Surgeon General. Plus there was a two-book deal on the table and a role as a political correspondent with FOX News. All in all, it looked like a pretty good retirement was shaping up.\n\nHe was shaking hands in a diner in Baton Rouge. Answering questions. He even ordered a cup of coffee, something he usually wouldn't do. But he was retiring, So why not? It'd help keep him active and alert for three speeches that day. After a few more species with diner patrons and an autograph for a young black law student, he reached into his wallet to pay for his coffee.\n\nWell heck.\n\nAll he had was a single $100 bill. No way were they going to break it for a $1.75 cup of coffee. He considered asking a staffer for money, but with the local news cameraman filming him, he decided that would look unpresidential. Besides, he could certainly afford it. So he handed his waitress the bill, said \"God bless\" to her, and walked out the door and on to his first speech.\n\nIt wasn't until later that evening, just before his last speech, that he noticed something... odd. The event organizers were talking about changing venues due to a larger-than-expected crowd. Two young women were holding signs that read \"\\#buybenacoffee\". He pointed them out to one of his staffers.\n\n\"Oh, no one's told you? You've gone viral. The \\#buybenacoffee hash tag is trending.\" Now, Ben was no expert in online marketing, but he knew enough to understand what that meant.\n\n\"I thought I had to approve all online campaigns first,\" he said angrily. The staffer just smiled.\n\n\"It's organic, grassroots,\" she replied. \"The local channel put up an interview with that waitress, then someone started the hashtag. We've had half a million in donations in six hours, averaging $5 or so.\" Carson was stunned. That was more money than his campaign had received in three weeks. He pulled out his phone and quickly found the interview. Already it had been viewed nearly two million times. He tried to listen, but could barely hear over the roar of the growing crowd. All he could make out was that the waitress was broke, could barely afford her rent, was going days without food just so her baby could eat. The $98.25 was a week's worth of groceries and diapers, enough to ensure she paid her rent. He watched as tears rolled down her face. She turned to the camera, and as clear as a bell said, \"thank you Dr. Carson\".\n\nThe speech he gave that night was immortalized around the world, played endlessly on nightly news and shared on Facebook for months. It had started as any other stump speech, but when he came to the prefabricated portion where he attacked Trump, he paused. Then he spoke from his heart.\n\n\"My friends,\" he said to the raucous crowd, \"my opponent says that he wants to make America great again. He believes that a strong military is what makes a great nation, but North Korea, China, Russia: they all have strong militaries. Would you call them 'great nations'?\" A few voices in the bewildered crowd shouted \"NO!\" One or two people booed loudly, but Carson ignored them.\n\n\"My opponent believes that building a wall to keep others out, to ban people from coming to America because of their religion will make us a great nation. But there are countries like Saudi Arabia who prohibit non-Muslims from entering Mecca. Would you call them 'great nations'? During the Cold War, the communist governments built walls thousands of miles of walls to keep their people trapped. Would you call them 'great nations'?\"\n\n\"NO!!\" the crowd shouted in unison.\n\n\"Great nations aren't made great by powerful armies. Rather, strong armies are born from great nations that provide hope to the world, moral clarity to and from their people, and the will to do good and act righteously. An army with those qualities will persevere against an enemy no matter its size.\n\n\"Walls have never made a nation great. In fact, they don't work. Ever. What works is what the Bible tells us: to treat strangers in our land like guests, long-lost family come back to the fold.\n\n\"I am reminded tonight of the story Jesus told about the Good Samaritan, a man who clothed and fed a stranger he foun lying beaten in the road. We don't know what happened to that stranger, but we know what would have happened if the Samaritan had just kept walking. I bet that there isn't one of us here tonight who got where we are alone. Every one of us was once that stranger. And at that time someone-- a family member, a friend, a teacher, even a complete stranger-- they fed us, and clothed us, and gave us hope when we had none. I know it's true for me, and I want you to take a moment to think about who it was for you.\" The room was silent as people bowed their heads or smiled softly to themselves. After a long pause, Carson continued. \"Remember their generosity and ask yourself: what really makes America a great nation. God bless you all.\"\n\nBy the time he woke up the next morning, his campaign had received $2.3 million, and he was tied for second in the polls.\n\nAs predicted, Trump came in for the attack during the next debate. Carson was no longer on the sidelines, but placed right next to the frontrunner. He'd even got an abundance of speaking time and a few questions directed his way. He remained calm, avoiding the moderator's baiting questions, deflecting Trump's attacks. He remained calm; so much so that Trump only became even more apoplectic. Finally, when Carson spoke of his upbringing, and his growth from a troubled teen to a world-famous neurosurgeon, Trump exploded.\n\n\"Who cares about some nigger from the ghetto??\" he raged, unable to deal with the spotlight not being shone on him. That one word got Trump all the attention he'd ever wanted. A man with even the slightest shame would have dropped out, but Trump continued to run all the way to the convention, where Carson won easily.\n\nAnd now here he was, being sworn in to the highest office in the land. His election opponent was scheduled to testify in Congress for the fourteenth time later this week, and rumour had it that she was still bitter about President Obama's premature pardon, which sunk her chances at ever winning the election. Rumour also had it that it was retribution for having started all those 'Kenyan' conspiracy theories eight long years ago.\n\nBut today none of that mattered. As Benjamin Solomon Carson, Sr., forty-fifth President of the United States of America stepped forward to address the crowd, all he could think about was the nice, peaceful retirement that had slipped away." ]	2
	[WP] "You call it a death trap, but to me, this place is its own kind of paradise."	[ "\"I know it is,\" you told me. \"I don't care. It's paradise. This thing is its own kind of paradise.\"\n\nWe sat in the bed of your truck, that death trap, cross-legged on the crinkled plastic liner. We were up at the quarry last time we had this discussion, the same one we'd had so many times. It was part of the pattern: you called me, I grumbled and acquiesced, you picked me up and we drove somewhere while I talked shit about your truck and you rolled a joint and steered with your knees.\n\nIt was a death trap, that thing. Always was. You told me when you got it that it only had a hundred thousand miles on it, only like that was pretty good. And it might have been, if the truck had been twenty years younger and of an era that a hundred-k was middle age for a truck. An '89 pickup, though, with only a hundred thousand miles on it, leaking oil constantly, 13 miles to the gallon on a good day. It was a piece of shit and we both knew it.\n\nYou loved that heap of crap from the very first day. You rolled up out front and honked your horn until I came out to see what was going on, and we took the first of a thousand drives out into the valley, up into the mountains, down to the river. It became a habit pretty fast, that you'd come get me and I'd tell you all about how your truck was going to kill us both, and then we'd park somewhere quiet and dark and smoke pot and look at the stars.\n\nAnd so: \"This thing is is own kind of paradise.\" You paused and took a long drag off the joint, then handed it to me. \"I can go anywhere. I can do whatever I want. I don't have to wait around for the bus or for my parents or for someone else with a car. Wanna go fishing? I can just go. I can go to the store. I can go -- \" you trailed off there, gesturing with both hands, an open shrug of a movement, indicating the whole world, any part of everything before us. \"I could get in the truck and drive to Billings.\"\n\n\"Billings,\" I said.\n\n\"Okay, not Billings.\" \n\nWe went to Billings once. A couple hours of driving for another hot, flat, dusty town. If it was any more interesting than home, it was only because there was more of it. The fishing was good on the way home, though.\n\nYou talked a lot whenever we got high, that was the pattern. It usually started with the truck, damn thing, because that was the pattern: I mocked the truck, you defended it, it was funny until your third hit and then it was serious, personal, private. You talked about how much you loved that truck and everything it meant, the freedom from other people's schedules, the possibility of escaping our crappy little town. Maybe we never would leave, but you could leave, and that's what mattered. Sometimes you talked about your cousins in Colorado, about your friend Sam who moved back east when you were in middle school, about whoever you had your eye on. After high school that stopped for a while, but as you drifted in and out of the community college you sometimes talked about the people in your classes, people who gravitated to our town as if it were the big city, people from towns of a couple hundred, from unincorporated areas, from border towns in the sticks. Some of them fascinated you and you slept with a few, told me all about it, sometimes reverent, sometimes choking on laughter. More and more you talked about how you felt, how you didn't feel, how hard it was to muster up any reaction to anything, how little anything seemed to matter.\n\nI sat and I listened. You talked endlessly and I was happy to listen, to lean on the wheel well and look at the stars, to laugh at your stories or to hear you when you needed to be heard. After a few hours we would climb back into the cab, baby the engine back to life, and roll back to town and go our separate ways.\n\nI did it by myself for the first time this past weekend. Saturday afternoon, late summer breezes rolling towards the mountains to the west, sliver of moon coming up out of the endless grass. The keys had been sitting on my desk since Wednesday and I finally caved, took the truck out of the garage and headed east towards the railroad bridge. It wasn't the most subtle spot, but it was one we hadn't visited often and I didn't think I could handle the usual haunts on my own. There was no one around and I parked the truck in the dirt by the blockade and walked the rest of the way. \n\nI don't know why they ran the train this way, through the gully instead of around. It's not like there's anything in the way out here, but for whatever reason the parallel tracks run between the hills and a run-down old wagon bridge spans the gap above them. It's been closed forever, but you can get to it pretty easy. I sat there for a while, leaning on the guardrail with my legs dangling over the edge. I counted coal cars (eighty-seven), waved to the engineers on an empty train heading for the sawmills, and watched one of the rare passenger trains fly past in a blur of silver and blue. \n\nI sat and I smoked a joint and got way higher than usual, since you weren't there to share it with me. Finally I tossed the roach down onto the gravel bed of the tracks and walked back to the truck. I didn't know what to do with myself; I think I've spent nearly every Saturday night of the past ten years with you. I sat in the truck in my driveway for a few minutes and then I figured nothing needed to have changed, really, so I came over here.\n\nThe truck's out in the lot by the gate. It's the only car there right now, but it's late and I imagine everyone else has less depressing things to do with their Saturday, so I don't think anyone else will be around. It's still warm, since it's August, but you've got a tree here and it's cooler in the wind and the shade. I bet you'll get snow piling up in the winter; your tree's gonna be a windbreak and send it all right over here.\n\nI guess I'm turning into you, man, talking like this. I dunno. It's not like you don't know this stuff, and nothing really changes around here. Your fuckin' death trap did okay today. I might take it over to Pete and see about getting it fixed up for a good long trip. Take it out to California, maybe. New York. Might just get on the interstate and see how far it'll go. I figure I owe it that much, calling it names all these years, when it wasn't even the thing that killed you. Owe you, maybe.\n\nI don't think I'm gonna smoke this whole thing; I'll leave it here for you. Make sure you hide it if your mom comes down. ", "“You call it a death trap, but to me, this is its own kind of paradise.”, Mark said as if in deep thought. \n\n\n“You must be insane” retorted John getting a little impatient. \n\n\n“No no, far from it. There's something beautiful about the natural creation of it, some human test born out the rock\"\n\n\n“That just sounds like crap to me, I mean the gap is ridiculous. People who have tried to jump that gap are either stupid or crazy and you can’t convince me otherwise.” John, deciding he didn’t want an argument turns away to look at the view behind.\n\nMark turns, to John’s frustration, and stands back next to him.\n“I think I should tell you a story. It was actually the first time I ever climbed up here. All my friends had heard of the Big Leap but we were never that interested in it. It always seemed too hard to get to and so far out of the way. We weren’t big on hiking at the time anyway, it was nothing more than a bit of an urban legend to us and we thought nothing of it. Anyway, one Saturday morning, I must have been 16 or 17, and my friend came over to the house saying that he had heard of a guy who wanted to make the jump and had flown over here just to do it. He was trying to raise some money for charity or something. We hadn’t walked around these mountains in a couple of years and we both thought that even if it wasn’t true it would be a cool way to spend the day. The weather was pretty good, it was early enough to get up and down a few trails with decent light and so we thought, lets do it. So we get down to the base of Big Leap. There was a small crowd there because I guess word had gotten around that some jump was going to happen, and we start to climb with a few other interested people. We get halfway up, and all stop at the bridge”\n\n\nJohn, now a little intrigued asked, “The bridge by the stream?”\n\n\n“Yeah where we had lunch today, Mark replied, “…and we start talking to this big guy. He’s huffing and puffing, trying to make it up this climb with his young daughter holding his hand, and we found it quite funny that he was breathing so hard at the time because, ya’know we were shitty little kids. We weren’t rude or anything but that’s not the point, he was obviously not the fittest guy in the world. \n\n\nSo we asked him how he had heard of the jump and he said that it was pretty famous in the climbers world. He was the guy who told us that only 3 of the 7 people who had tried to jump it actually made it, which seemed difficult for him to say at the time and also scared the shit out of me. \n\n\nWe didn’t know that 7 people had tried and 4 had fallen, and I mean you can see the fall up close so you know what I mean when I say that they certainly didn’t survive. That shut us up pretty quickly and we started to climb again with this small group of people, and getting nervous too. We had wanted to see something cool, we didn’t want to see someone throw away their life quite literally on a leap of faith. So we reach the top, all standing a few meters away from where we are now, Mark gestures to a patch of rocks, slightly warn down by the erosion of walking boots, ”dripping with sweat and waiting for something to happen. No-one else was up here so we thought we might have missed it, and talked about heading down again. \n\n\nSuddenly this same heavy set guy who had been sat on that bench right over there, panting away, stands bolt up right, takes a few shaky steps forward and then strides straight towards that first right pillar. His daughter on the bench sort of half got off as if to follow him but stood rooted to the spot in fear of wear he was heading. She obviously didn’t know what was happening, she must have only been 4 or 5 at the time. By this point the whole group were realising what was about to happen and we were sort of paralysed with fear and a disturbed anticipation. I still remember the screams of his little girl desperately trying to bring him back to her but he just kept walking. His face was all red with tears streaming as he shakily climbed up the first of the 3 rocks in the right pillar. At this point we joined the little girl, shouting at her father as it dawned on us that this wasn’t just some charity event. None of us honestly thought he would ever make that jump but our voices did nothing to change his mind. He just kept climbing and climbing as if in a trance. He made it to the top of this pillar and for what seemed like hours, simply stared at the gap, like he was searching for some kind of sign telling him he didn’t have to do it. A woman in the group was manically screaming at him, her husband trying to console her as if he had already fallen. My eyes were transfixed on his face. It was only a couple of hours ago that we were having a casual conversation about someone making the jump. It was all too real now that I was going to watch the same guy, who was obviously emotionally broken, trying to do it himself. After a few short breaths, he takes a small step back, pivots and flings himself off of the pillar. All I could hear were the shrill cries and gasps from the crowd around me while the little girl wailed in tears. I could barely watch and turned to try and read my friends reaction. I glanced back to see the mans right hand, clinging on to the surface of the rock on the top of the left pillar. He had actually made it. Slowly he began to squeeze all the strength out of his right arm, bringing his upper body closer to the edge of the second pillar, before heaving himself up and over. It was the most incredible feat of strength I have ever seen. It was also the most beautiful thing to watch what the will to survive can do for a person.\"\n\n\n“Why did he do it?”, John asked.\n\n\n“It turned out that his wife was one of the 4 that didn’t survive that same jump. They were both great hikers and had reached this point a year earlier where she tried to make the jump. I never asked him, but I always imagined that this was his way of letting nature decide what his own mind obviously couldn’t. Had the wind been blowing a different direction, who knows what could have happened”\n\n\nJohn stared at the two pillars again. After a moment of thought he conceded, \"I don't know about paradise, but I guess there's something\"", "Leather straps swayed with the wind. Creaky pipes held them up to the ceiling of the dank tiled cellar. The only bright spot in the room was a stand filled with candles of various colors. Claudia's heels stomped through the room until Clark was eye level with them. He tried to speak but the ball muffled even the sound of his breath. \"Oh that's right my furry bear cub. There isn't any way to escape- this weekend you're mine!\" She cracked a nine-tailed whip against the straps of the sex swing Clark was suspended in. He rocked for a minute; the barb in his bottom didn't agree with the momentum of the swing. A single tear attempted escape from his left tear duct, he batted it back as best he could, Claudia would only use it as fuel for her torture. \"Is that a tear? Oh you poor poor thing- do you want to use your safe word? Too bad there's a ball in your mouth!\" She pushed her finger against the ball gage forcing Clark's tongue back. \"You might think this is a death trap, but to me, this place is its own kind of paradise. When you were high you thought it could be the same for you- or don't you remember that while you fucked me in the ass for hours? Did the coke wipe that little memory away?\" She cocked back the whip and slapped it against his ass again. \"Bet you remember now!\" Claudia hit him two more times.\n\nUnder the candles, a small beeping started. It grew louder with each beep, eventually loud enough she couldn't ignore it. \"I'm sorry baby but you're time is up for the weekend. At least your time in Claudia's Slice of Island Life is, would you like to do anything...less gripping?\" Claudia unbuckled the ball gag and handed Clark a glass of water. He poured it down his throat and bare chest before gasping for air.\n\n\"I'm going to bend you over those candles before I go.\"\n\n\"That'll be fifty more,\" Claudia said. She unhooked her leather undergarments as Clark shrugged at the figure. The flames tickled and burned her chest as Clark went at it. This was his real paradise, too bad he'd go back to just being a baseball player in a few hours.\n\n[END- sorry it's somewhat NSFW, tried to keep it relatively tolerable]", "\"Why do you always have to go on these rants? Always? Ever single time I bring it up?\" \n\n\"Because I know how it's going to end. I know what's going to happen to you -- to the both of you.\" \n\n\"Mom, seriously.\" \n\n\"Seriously what? You know it's true. It didn't work for your my parents, your fathers parents, Bill's, Charlie's, or Alex's parents. It didn't work for your Aunt and she isn't even a parent. You can do as you'd like, I'm just telling you to think about it.\" \n\n\"Think about it?\" \n\n\"Well yeas, think about it.\" \n\n\"Are you fucking kidding me?\"\n\n\"Chris! Don't speak to me that way!\"\n\n\"Don't even start with that, Mom. I can't fucking believe you sometimes.\" \n\n\"Chris, I'm just trying to talk some sense into you. You can't be with that girl forever, I just know it isn't going to work.\" \n\n\"I don't want to talk about anymore.\" \n\n\"Oh now don't go and start doing that. You know full and well that I'm right in some way. You just don't want to admit it.\" \n\n\"Mom. Stop.\" \n\n\"I just don't understand why you feel the need to hide it from me.\" \n\n\"Mom.\"\n\n\"Chris\" \n\n\"You know what, fine. Do you really want to know how I feel about her? Do I really need to explain this?\" \n\n\"You don't have to, as long as you've seen reason and let her go her own way.\" \n\n\"Jesus. Mom I've been with Emma for six years. Six. Years. I finally worked up the courage to propose, she says yes, and I still have to deal with you doing this.\" \n\n\"She's just not rig--\"\n\n\"No. You asked, so I'm doing it. This is how I feel about Emma. I've been with her for six years, but I've loved her for seven. I know that to you that's nothing, a sliver of the long life I have to be single and promiscuous and lonely. But Mom, I've loved her for seven years. I've loved her since the day that I met her and it hasn't changed. God Mom, when we were in college she'd text me \"good morning\" EVERY MORNING. She got me through that hell hole one morning at a time. \n\nAnd I'd love her just for that. \n\nBut there's more, she loves books, writes stories, sings songs. Mom, she's worried more about the fact that Uncharted 4 got pushed back than the results of Caucus on Tuesday. She reads and edits my work and lets me do the same for her. She understands that being a starving artist is neat in theory, but not to be put to practice. She's a hardworker, smart, loving, empathatic, patient. I could be with her forever and it wouldn't seem like a day had gone by. The universe could live, breathe, and die in the time between her hand on my cheek, and her lips on mine. I don't mean to go so over-the-top but god damn it, Mom. I shouldn't have to explain this at this point. I know you hate marriage. I know Dad ruined it for you and no one else should ever be happy because of that. Commitment is pointless, it all ends when the kids leave, whatever. \n\nThe thing is, I like where I'm at in life. I like the place I'm in. I've got a decent job, a book in the works, and a supportive, beautiful, wonderful fiancé. You call it a deathtrap but, to me, this place is its own kind of paradise.\" \n\n----\n\n\"Well, I still think you should think about it.\" \n\n\"Good lord, Mother. Call me when you actually want to talk about this. Might as well tell the cook to put dinner in the fridge when it's done. It'll make nice leftovers.\" \n\n-----\n\nEdit: \"the cook\" was named \"Lisa.\" Changed to \"the cook\" for clarity. Though, I did like \"Lisa.\" We'll see. " ]	4
	[WP] In a Teacher-Parent discussion at your child's daycare, the teacher has nothing but wonderful things to say about your child, except you and your spouse are the world's greatest supervillains and you were hoping Little Stevie would outgrow his 'nice' phase.	[ "My husband and I stared in horror at the stack of homework assignments on Ms. Redmon's desk. She had taken the time to show us just how diligent little Stevie was. Our spawn had obeyed every last idiotic piece of instruction, including the ones in the \"Helpful Practice!\" area of his worksheets. Line after line of carefully and lovingly crafted letters stared up at the ceiling from the top of the pile.\n\n\"It's amazing! He is always so polite and considerate... Just seeing his smiling face in the morning makes my day.\" She gushed with a certain light in her eyes which we had come to associate with overexposure to Stevie.\n\nThere was silence. A long and pregnant silence in which my husband glared angrily at a poster on the wall which read \"ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE\" in large, friendly letters. His hands were very carefully and deliberately folded in his lap. I could see a vein throbbing in his temple.\n\n\"Are you alright?\" Ms. Redmon asked, concern tinting her voice.\n\n\"Oh he's just bad with people.\" I replied with what I hoped to be a completely normal and friendly tone. I placed my hand on my husband's arm and gave it a squeeze. Hopefully, it would remind him that we couldn't afford to burn down another school.\n\n\"My! I wouldn't expect that what with how charming your son is!\"\n\nThe edges of the poster began to turn dark brown and crinkle.\n\n\"Thank you. Yes. He is... a very nice boy.\" My knuckles popped and I realized for the first time that I was gripping the seat of my chair. I became very aware of how badly the wood was splintering underneath my hand.\n\nOblivious, Ms. Redmon went on to show us more of our little angel's works. She blathered on and on about how many friends he had made and how proud we must be. All the while, my husband and I fought to keep our Power under control.\n\n\"...and I'm sure you'll want to keep this!\" she bubbled as she pulled a piece of paper out of a manilla folder and placed it on the desk for us to examine.\n\nIt was a crayon drawing depicting a building on fire. In front of it, he had drawn two stick figures with black and red capes....... fighting Super Man.\n\nThe poster burst into flame. As Ms. Redmon screamed and lunged out of her chair, I yanked my husband to his feet and sprinted for the exit. We dodged down the hallways and out the front door. Our escape mini-van awaited us, still running. My husband dove into the driver's seat while I ran around and jumped into shotgun position. The tires of the van squealed as we took off for the lair.\n\nI turned to the little 6-year-old sitting in the back seat and stared him down angrily.\n\n\"Stevie. We need to have a talk about your grades.\"", "Liz Hanson swallowed nervously at the angry glares little Stevie's parents were giving her. What had she said wrong? She had given the boy nothing but glowing reviews. Grades improved. Cooperative and attentive in class. Kind to classmates. Takes initiative when needed. All the usual crap that most parents would drool to hear. Doctors Milo and Ivanna Slashen on the other hand, looked at her as if she had best think twice before starting her car tonight. She toyed nervously with the folder in front of her to cover up the slight tremor in her fingers.\n\nLittle Stevie Slashen entered the room in response to a bellowed summons from his father. Liz took some comfort from the casually bored look the boy gave them that seemed to indicate that he at least saw nothing menacing about their obvious displeasure. He listened and nodded as his mother narrowed her eyes in a stern glare and coldly repeated the things Liz had been saying. But to Liz's ears, she heard only a cold displeased tone that defied the boy to deny it. She simple didn't get where this conference had gone so wrong.\n\nLiz watched the boy more closely and noticed that he wasn't even making eye contact with his parents. No, the little truant was looking directly at her, and the look he gave her really did make her struggle to keep from shaking.\n\nWhen Ivanna Slashen had completed her accusatory litany, the boy nodded calmly, with a look of disdainful satisfaction, and asked his mother one question: \"Are you sure Ms. Hanson said all those nice things?\"\n\n\"Are you calling your mother a liar, boy?\" asked Milo Slashen.\n\n\"Not at all,\" said Stevie quickly. \"I just needed to be sure.\" He reached into his back pocket, and took out the cell phone he carried there, and tapped in a code. Then he turned to Liz and smiled a condescending little smile and told her: \"You may rest easy, Ms. Hanson. I've disable the server... for now.\"\n\n\"Server?\" said Ivanna Slashen.\n\n\"Mm hmm,\" the boy confirmed calmly. \"The one that was programmed to take the compromising spy photos I took of Ms Hanson and Principal Warren in the teacher's break room and post them to every social media outlet on the web.\"\n\nHe calmly placed the phone in his back pocket, and steepled his fingers before him, then with a raised eyebrow at Liz, he added: \"You will remember I still have digital copies when it comes time to assign grades, I presume?\" Liz hastily nodded, flushing bright red.\n\nMilo Slashen leaped up, crossed the room, and patted his son on the back. \"That's my boy!\" he announced proudly.\n", "\"Liv, he's supposed to start Kindergarten in four months, I think our only option is homeschool until we can figure out his little behavior issue.\"\n\nLiv stopped in her tracks, \"He does not have a behavior issue!\" She looked at me with those deep red eyes and I could see the fire begin to rage behind her iris. \"I know he's young, but he must have something planned,\" she averted her eyes to the playground where children between the ages of three and fived jaunted about without a care in the world, \"he is our son after all.\" \n\nI took her hand and combed my fingers through her jet black hair. She was taking this whole \"parent teacher conference,\" thing worst than I expected. I kissed her forehead and tilted her chin towards mine. \"I know what the principal said is upsetting, but we will come out of this better than ever. No matter how long it takes. You, me, little Stevie, we're smarter than this. Remember when we stole the Hope Diamond?\"\n\nLiv squeezed out a smile and I could see her eyes go from Hell Inferno to Forest Fire. \"How could I forget?\" she wiped one eye. \"You forgot the ammunition and we had to kill everyone by hand.\" \n\n\"Exactly! We had to improvise the entire thing and we still came out on top! Plus a few of those guards had some very high level clearance that made it much easier to procure those dinosaur bones you had your eye on.\" I held her close and aligned my gaze with hers. There, on the playground, little Stevie patiently waited in line for the slide. His hands clasped neatly behind his back he subtly fidgeted back and forth, not so much to be obnoxious, just enough to pass the time. A soft sigh escaped my breath and I hoped Liv didn't notice. How could the son of the two most infamous criminals be so... nice? Since day one I've been teaching him to look out for himself and himself only, but there he was, taking turns and being rather polite about everything. \n\n\"We should probably go get him now,\" Liv said. She was right. \n\n\"Yeah, you wanna bring the car around?\" Liv nodded and I started walking toward the playground. Stevie had just reached the top of the slide and waved to me before carefully sitting down and slowly sliding five feet to the ground. Damn, kid doesn't take any risks does he? Just plays by the rules... \n\nStevie jogged over to his cubby and grabbed his back pack before saying good-bye to a few of his classmates and making his way to the chain link fence where I stood waiting. He wasn't old enough to figure out the latch yet, so he raised both arms towards me and I lifted him up and brought him over to the car where Liv was waiting. I placed Stevie in the back seat before climbing into the car myself. Liv had put on some Fleetwood Mac and the melancholy tone perfectly resonated with the mood we both were feeling. I pulled out my phone and started searching for anything that might help.\n\nBehavior therapy? No, they probably don't offer the type of program I need. Let him live with the wolves for a year? No, they'd probably just eat him at this point. Fake our deaths and raise him from the shadows? No, that's how Batman was created. I set my phone down and glance at my wife and then my son. His back pack is unzipped and he's playing with some action figures. They're not even the bad guys. It's Superman and what looks like some knock off Power Ranger type. I can't believe he convinced us to buy those for him. \n\nWait. We didn't. Even before he was born Liv and I decided on only gender neutral toys like Legos, coloring books, German knife sets, etc... \n\nOver my left shoulder I watch my son. \"Hey buddy! Whatcha got there? I don't think I've seen those before.\" \n\nStevie let both arms fall to his sides, \"The other kids gave them to me! This one is from Branson and this one is from Emily.\" He presented Superman and the not-so-Power Ranger respectively. \n\n\"That's great! Did you do some trading?\"\n\n\"No, they just gave them to me.\" I was taken aback. I glanced at Liv who, clearly perplexed motioned for me to continue.\n\n\"Wow buddy, that's really cool. Why'd they do that?\"\n\n\"Well, I told Branson one of the stories you told me, but I was the good guy. I said I could teach him, if he wanted to join my club. He said yes, so he gave me his Superman and I said to find two more kids to join the club and I would show him. He told the story to some other kids, but he said I could fly too. Now all the kids want to play with me and I have all the toys in the school!!\"\n\nI peered into his backpack. He was right, it was full of toys. In fact I think he even ditched his lunchbox so he could fit more tokens of servitude within its tiny canvas walls. Shocked I brushed Liz's leg and gestured towards the back pack. Through an enormous sinister smile she mouthed the words, \"I know!\" and refocused her attention on the road.\n\n\"That's cool buddy! What are you gonna do tomorrow?\"\n\n\"The same thing. I can always tell another story if someone doesn't believe me. And if someone gets mad I can kick them out of the group.\" At that moment I couldn't have been more proud. What had started out as a terrible day had blossomed into something magnificent. I wasn't sure how it was going to pan out, but our son had already learned to manipulate the entire class into doing his bidding. Even if he only became a cult leader or a top Multi Level Marketing Executive, it was clear that little Stevie had big dreams. Great, big, evil, dreams.\n\n", "\"So what are you doing to fix it?\" Dr Kelvin screams at a confused looking Ms. Kringle, his wife almost beside herself in tears.\n\"I don't understand what you mean by fix Dr Kelvin, your son has been absolutely perfect, always helping students when they need it, he's actually improved the general behavior of the whole class\"\n\"Oh lord, it's even worse than we thought\" \nDr Kelvin throws his head into his hands his anger turning to despair.\n\"We were just hoping he would have out grown this by now, I mean we sent him here to try and help that, your school has the worst reputation in the country\"\n\"Had, ever since your son started here we've really been able to clean up our act\". \nMrs Kelvin lets out a wail at the new information.\n\"Look, I think it's best that we leave now, you're just making us feel worse\"\n\"But Dr Kelvin I-\" Ms Kringle begins to say before Dr Kelvin freezes her.\n\nDr and Mrs Kelvin slammed the doors of their car and sped off weaving in and out of traffic, cutting people off, running lights and near missing pedestrians. The couple take a sharp turn into the face of a mountain and then drive through a secret tunnel. \"Where did we go wrong Kel?\" Mrs Kelvin asks through tears. \"It's not our fault, maybe he's just... good\" Dr Kelvin shudders in disgust as the word leaves his mouth. The Couple arrive in front of a large gothic door with brass gargoyle head handles. They get out of their car slamming the doors before marching towards the large wooden door and swinging it open. As they walk along the cold cobble floors towards the play room of their only son they hear orders being barked through the doors. They open the door just a crack and spy on him, they see their little Stevie controlling an army of children from his school. Tears well up in their eyes, never have two parents been so proud before." ]	4
[this tweet from King](http://imgur.com/REB4Vcl)	[WP] Inspired by Stephen King's tweet, sowing dragon's teeth grows an actual dragon	[ "\"Something about this is wrong.\"\n\nFaith glanced at Flint, confusion in her eyes.\n\n\"Why, what's wrong?\"\n\nFlint was dressed all in black, burnt cork rubbed on his face to hide his pale complexion. Faith was dressed similar but didn't bother hiding her face; anyone other than him who looked her way would have seen nothing but swaying grass. Flint gestured ahead with a fraying glove, the silver of moon providing just enough light to see with. \n\n\"This is a blind spot in House Vexlith's defenses. No patrols for the last half hour, no outposts or fortifications. Sure, the terrain's too rough to take a army through but just a talon? You'd think they'd have scouts or rangers to guard these woods.\"\n\nFaith gave an aristocratic huff and pushed past him, crawling through the long grass and towards the darkened castle sitting on the rising spur of the nearby mountain. Swearing quietly Flint followed, unslinging his submachine gun as he did so. \n\nThe pair ghosted through the darkness, their boots digging deep into the soft loamy soil. The field of grass was like a midnight ocean, the night's breeze rippling the grass back and forth in endless emerald waves. The castle loomed larger and larger as they neared, and Flint was beginning to chide himself for his caution when his boot struck something solid. \n\n\"Faith!\" he hissed, \"Halt.\"\n\nMiracle of miracles she obey, crouching down and vanishing beneath the grass. Flint sunk down and brushed aside the worst of the stalks to spy what he hit. It was round, and cold as he picked it up to catch the light. It was a helmet, a human-made one. Flint turned the helm about in his hands, the cold steel damp with condensation. \n\n\"We weren't the first to come this way...\"\n\nFaith moved closer to him.\n\n\"What?\" she asked.\n\nHe handed her the helmet instead of immediately answering. She brushed off a patch of dirt, revealing fading English.\n\nCzerk \n\n\"I don't know this word,\" she said.\n\n\"It's Polish I'd guess, Czech if not. This whole state was filled with Polacks. The question is why it's here... ah, fuck me.\"\n\n\"Flint?\"\n\n\"You remember those border stones, the ones at the edge of Vexlith territory?\"\n\nShe nodded affirmation.\n\n\"They aren't patrolling this area because they don't need to; we're standing in a minefield or the Elf equivalent of it.\"\n\nHe began to pull out a knife and can of shaving cream when he felt something icy and thin grab his ankle in vise-like grip. Flint swore and lashed out with his free leg, kicking at whatever got him. He felt something break, but still his leg was trapped, and then it began pulling itself closer.\n\nIt had been once a man, its face devoid of flesh or skin. Only a bit of fraying hair still clung to its scalp, its clothes little more than shreds and tatters. Its empty eye socket was broken from where Flint kick it while its yellowed teeth lunged for his throat. In the back of his mind he heard Faith scream amidst the sound of moaning as he fought the tireless grip of his undead assailant. One word echoed in his mind, one word that dredged up memories of ancient horrors unseen.\n\nCadmus.", "I had been waiting for the dragon tooth to grow for months. Every day, I'd been tending it as needed, with water, sunlight, and warm soil. It hadn't been hard, exactly: Once I'd received the tooth from one of my older cousins, I went out to the backyard and buried it under a patch of cool, silvery moonlight. Every day and night after that, I'd babied it, willing the tooth to grow into a real dragon.\n\nLike a lot of kids who read a lot, I'd spent most of my childhood yearning for exotic (read: imaginary) pets. And when I discovered that I would have the oppurtunity to actually grow and raise a dragon, I couldn't resist it, never mind that I lived in a studio apartment in a rat-infested shithole in New York City. Surely a dragon wasn't such a far-fetched thing in the Big Apple?\n\nIt took a month and a half, almost exactly, for it to emerge from the tiny green square that passed for my yard. It was a tiny little thing, a little bigger than my palm. Its scales shimmered iridescent violet in the sun when I walked downstairs and picked it up. It gave a pitiful mewl, and buried its head in my neck. I winced--its scales scraped roughly against the tender skin there.\n\nWhen it mewled again, I took it upstairs, gently rubbing a hand down its back. What did dragons eat? Or, more to the point, what did I have here that a dragon could eat? I opened the fridge and took out the chicken I'd been thawing for dinner. Before I could even turn around, it had pounced on my shoulder and barely missed my fingers before gulping the meat down in huge chunks. Despite the blood, I smiled. I had a feeling my dragon and I were going to get along swimmingly.", "The box was a rattling nuance in the floorspace of Nick's car. It was a weather-rusted baby-shit brown Chevy Nova. It was the first car he bought out of college and he still had it. He'd lost Wendy and his self-respect the last summer before the midterm elections. \n\nHe had been given the cheap gift by an old man on Interstate Nine. Nick had just fled the wastelands of Atlantic City and stopped for a greasebomb before he reached the north shores. The diner was older, with peeling laminatine and a radioactive neon sign out front. Out front was a man who had it the bottle too hard and now was not keeping his head above the ethanol. Nick knew the feeling. He had tapped the minibar too hard the night before and woke up with his pillow and sheets covered in vomit. At least he had been kind enough to move the mess to the bath. This wino was leaning on a corner, a bottle discarded by his feet.\n\n\"You a poll'tition?\"\n\nNick ignored him. The door was heavy. He slid into the bench and tired to ignore the stabbing in his eyes and stomach. \n\n\"What can I do you for?\" The accent and enthusiasm were foreign. Texas or Georgia. Nick cracked open an eye. She was pretty enough. Most would call her plain. Her blonde hair was too brown to be dyed. He name tag read RICK. \n\n\"Coffee.\" His back popped when he stretched. \n\nThe girl giggled. The coffee was too dark but he took a sip anyway. Jesus. He could use a real drink. \"You running?\"\n\n\"What?\" \n\n\nShe gestured with the pot. \"You have a button.\" Nick looked down. On his lapel was a frolicking elephant and VOTE BIG in red lettering. He must had pinned it on somewhere in Alabama. Or Arkansas. Which reminded him. He had to call Ben and get the radio ads for Tuesday rolling. His pants pocket was empty. There was no way he was going back south for his cell.\n\n\"Do you have a phone I can borrow?\"\n\nThe girl frowned. \n\n\"I lost mine,\" Nick tried not to whine. \"My boss is going to kill me if I don't call in.\"\n\nHe hadn't had a boss in years. Not since he was the brain-child of the GOP. Now he was other people's bosses. He was the kickleballer of the attack campaigns. From somewhere in the back was pulled a landline. It was an odd off-white with the buttons on the handset. He hadn't seen one of these since, Christ, 2004? 2005? The connection was good. Ben picked up on the third ring.\n\n\"Where are you?\" His voice was chopped by the roaring of a crowd. \n\n\"I'm in mid-Jersey. Should be with you in four hours.\"\n\n\"Make sure it happens.\" Ben was shouting to someone else \"... move the panel... the crowd...\" then his voice was clear. \"Just get here. Bye.\"\n\nNick handed the girl the phone. He took another deep pull from the white mug. It didn't get any better. The sugar he added just sank to the bottom of the cup. \n\n\"Do you want anything to eat?\"\n\nNick looked at the clock. No time. \"Can I get something to go?\"\n\nHe left with a plastic shopping back with some wrapped sandwich and a piece of pie that would be destroyed by the first turn. The bum was still there. \n\n\"Ah know how you can win.\" The voice was slurred worse now, his eyes rheumy and inflamed. \n\n\"How?\" Nick almost dropped the box that was shoved into his hands. It was an old shoe-box, kept together with duct tape.\n\n\"It's a monster.\" The bub giggled as he took a swing from a clear bottle. The liquor looked like piss. Nick nodded as he backed away. \n\nThe box was driving him crazy. He had tried to cut across to route seven but got jammed up by the Pennsylvania - Rhone Island border. In a fit of spite he rolled down the window and thew the box out. He saw a flash of it rolling down the embankment before he had to tap the brakes. The rest of the day was stop-and-go all the way to Vermont. He'd have to double back but first he had to fight with an AMT for money. The phone at this rest-stop didn't take cards. It was ones hidden by a blue metal sheet came off the line broken.\n\nHe left a message for Ben then tried again. He hung up with it clicked over to voicemail. If his lost his job, well. The City of Brotherhood had a lot of bridges. Nick let the car warm up as he took a piss. His head hurt worse. He rinsed his mouth with brackish tap water. He could do this. \n\n[to be continued...]" ]	3
	[WP] After being laid off, a police interrogator gets hired as a math tutor for a child who just doesn't get it	[ "There are two types of people in this world, people like myself who use bullets and those hoodwinked losers who sweat 'em. I saw it in this kid the moment he stumbled into my office with the glazed look of concern wrapping his face tight like a fresh pair of double holstered suspenders. He was the second kind. \n\nWith a slow, drawn creak he slid open the door of the Mr. Blue's Math is Fun Learning Center, his hand rattling the loose doorknob with a jingle that signaled his arrival. I quickly stuffed the 10 year old scotch I had been sipping on since noon beneath my oak-wood desk. Times were tough these days, and I hadn't been expecting any visitors. \n\nThe boy was about twelve, fresh face, spiked hair, everything you would expect out of a twelve year old except the bags under his eyes that sagged low and drawn as though he were carrying the baggage of an upcoming algebra test with him in those eyes the whole way here. I sensed his troubles and offered him a cigarette to soothe his troubles. I lit one myself.\n\n\"What brings you round these parts kid?\" I snapped at him like the bark of a Beretta \"you know schools been out for a while now.\"\n\n\"I know Blue... uh Mr. Blue... sorry it's just that this summer...\" he said with a whimper. He stopped, cautiously unsure of where the conversation was leading to next. He was caught in the high-beams of a Buick he was no longer behind the wheel of. \n\n\"Ah yes summer time. Fine young man like yourself ride his bike 'round in a grassy field, chase some skirt around maybe, bother a few dames while he's at it. You didn't come down here for skirt chasin' though did you boy? Least I hope not, not much of a skirt man myself. No, no, you came down here 'cause you screwed the pooch on that math class of yours. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your walk, now out with it.\"\n\n\"Yes!\" he exclaimed as tears began to flow into his palms like cheap whiskey at a policeman's funeral. \n\nI offered him my embroidered kerchief and rested my palm on his narrow shoulders. Between sobs he prattled on like a dame would when you smack her around too much.\n\n\"It wasn't my fault though!\" he cried.\n\n\"I know son, I know what it's like to be unfairly blamed, accused even for trying to do the best you can. Teacher probably though you were too old-fashioned, maybe thought that the way you did math seemed like something you saw in a bad private detective movie, maybe even said the way you told a fellow lady officer how you'd like to 'treat her right' might be seen as 'misogynistic' and 'antiquated'. Point is son a man either lays down his job or the hooch, and I'll be damned I give up the good stuff. Now what are you in for? Algebra? Geometry?\"\n\n\"Algebra,\" he said with a sniffle, \"it's really hard though.\"\n\n\"Can't be harder than beating that sexual harassment charge. If I can ace that, boy you got this in the bag. But you gotta come clean with me son, how bad are we talkin' here? What's the jib?\"\n\n\"Well I don't really want to say...\"\n\n\"Well if you can't help me then I can't help you. You want that New Deal like Roosevelt's been promising then you're going to have to work with me here. Otherwise you won't see this side of a summer vacation till you're a blue label.\"\n\n\"Okay, okay... So I failed... with a 35.\" \n\n\"Sweet Mary Lou Stevens! I've meet jazz cats with more sense than that.\"", "Area Under a Curve\n\nA beautiful brunette with piercing blue eyes opened the door, “hello, em, ah, I’m Lewis, the math tutor” I stammered. The brunette smiled broadly, “Oh good, I’m Lauren and Freddie is ready for you in the dining room, follow me please”. I walked behind her admiring the tight blue dress on her fit figure. “Freddie, here is your new math tutor, now be a good boy and try your best dear”. Lauren said to the slumped figure at the table. Freddie lifted his eyes and looked at me suspiciously. “Well” said Lauren, “I have to run and do some errands, I will be back in an hour and a half, good luck you two”. She turned and walked out.\n\n“So Freddie, how is it going?” I said cheerfully, “Look” Freddie said “you are my fourth tutor in a month, I’m just don’t care about math or school, so please just don’t even bother, old man”. I tried to get through to him for 45 minutes, I was nice, I joked, I told stories, I tried to make math interesting to him, but Freddie just looked at me with a bored arrogant look. “Why are you even trying loser?” he asked. This pissed me off, it made me think of the last guy that called me a loser.\n\nIt was an intense interrogation, the one that cost me my job. We arrested a rich entitled asshole that raped a girl at his college, he was so arrogant and rude that he had my blood boiling, I arranged for my partner to go get some food so I could have some alone time with the turd. I was getting nowhere with him and at one point he called me a loser and gave me the middle finger. I felt the blood rush to my head, my veins were pulsing, in a fit of rage I grabbed his middle finger, still extended, I laid it flat on the metal table, I took my pocket knife out and yelled at him “tell me what you did you little piece of shit” the turd looked at me with a smirk, “now you are a loser without a job, my daddy will make sure of that”. I am not sure what made me do it, him calling me a loser or the fact I had a daughter the same age as the one he raped, but I just snapped.\n\nI flipped the knife open and told the turd “tell me what happened or lose your finger” he actually laughed out loud. “You are a sad man with little threats, you are a joke, loser”. With one sharp stroke I cut off the tip his middle finger, the cut was so clean he didn’t comprehend it, he just looked at his finger and then at me, I gave him a little smile. He looked down at his finger, now a in puddle of blood and he screamed and I mean a high pitched sustained scream that just didn’t stop. Two officers rushed into the room and held me back. \n\nI was fired the next day.\n\n“Are you going to daydream or do your job loser?” Freddie asked with a bored expression. “Wait a minute” I said and walked into the kitchen, I found a big steel butcher cleaver with a convenient ergonomic handle. I grabbed Freddie’s middle finger and held it to the table. “Freddie, let me tell you how I lost my job as a police interrogator” I watched Freddie’s eyes grow big with fear as I told him the chopped turd story, his eyes were transfixed on the shiny cleaver in my hand. “Now you show me some good progress and we won’t have to count your fingers with fractions, is that clear Freddie?”. He nodded and sat up, “Now let’s get to work Freddie!.”\n \nFor the next 45 minutes Freddie was a model student, alert and attentive, we breezed through Identifying Prime and Composite Numbers and just about finished Common Factors and Common Multiples when we heard the front door open. \n\nI walked to the front door and helped Lauren carry several clothing bags to the hallway. “How did it go?” she asked wearily. “Couldn’t have gone better, he is a bright boy and he did great” I said proudly. “Really?” she said and walked to the dining room. Freddie was writing in his workbook, he looked up and smiled at his Mom “I'm finished my homework Mom and I actually got it this time, Lewis is a really good tutor” he glanced at me with a fearful look. “Oh, this is just so amazing” Lauren said and started to wipe her eyes “this is a miracle” she said. “Can I go play some video games Mom?” Freddie asked as he got up, “Sure Freddie and I’m real proud of you!”. Freddie left in with a hurried step.\n\nLauren walked over to me and gave me a big hug, she pressed real hard against me and whispered in my ear “Thank you Lewis, no one ever got through to him”. I could smell her perfume and I was enjoying her hug when she suddenly pulled back and asked in alarm “Why is my butcher cleaver on the table?”. “Oh.. the butcher cleaver, em you see Freddie did so well with his regular homework that as a bonus I showed Freddie how to calculate the area under a curve and I used the butcher cleaver shape as an example.” I lied. Lauren relaxed and smiled at me.\n\nShe leaned closer and said “Lewis, I haven’t been this happy since my divorce.” “Your divorce.” I smiled back. “Can I help you carry some of the bags into your bedroom?\" I asked innocently. “I would love that Lewis, I would really love that” Lauren said as she turned and walked towards her bedroom, I followed closely noticing the subtly accentuated the sway of her hips.\n", "######[](#dropcap)\n\n\"So the sine is adjacent angle divided by the hypotenuse?\"\n\n\"I- I think so,\" the child stammered. He had not been stuttering when the class started half an hour earlier. \n\n\"Very interesting,\" Inspector Thompson said. \"Very interesting indeed.\"\n\nHe paced slowly backwards and forwards behind the child, menacingly slapping the cane into his left hand. The brat had not been nearly so humble when the lesson started thirty minutes earlier. Inspector Thompson's professional verdict of the boy had been Grade A spoiled, back-chatting twerp. But the Inspector was making progress, as he always did with the wrong sort.\n\n\"Jones, perhaps you would turn to the previous page of your notebook. NOW, JONES!\"\n\nYoung Master Jones fumbled back a page.\n\n\"Tell me, Jones, what does it say on the third line of this page.\"\n\n\"The- the sine of an angle is equal to the opposite angle divided by the h-hypotenuse.\"\n\n\"The hypotenuse, WHAT?\"\n\n\"The hypotenuse, sir!\"\n\n\"And whose handwriting is that, Jones?\"\n\n\"M-mine, sir.\"\n\n\"Yes, Jonesy, yours. The opposite divided by the hypotenuse. Is that what you told me a moment ago?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Condemned out of your own mouth, Jones.\" He bent down so that his mouth was next to the boy's ear and repeated, \"Out of your own mouth.\"\n\n\"B- but...\"\n\nThe cane crashed down on the table an inch from the boy's hand, and Thompson said in a slow, cold, drawl, \"When I want your opinion, Jones, I will ask for it.\"\n\nTears began to pour silently down the boys cheeks.\n\nThe Inspector smiled to himself, and resumed his pacing. Weeping was always a good sign. It meant they were ready for the slow building up to begin. This kid had been a tough nut, stronger than many of the hoodrats he had dealt with. But Thompson had triumphed, as he always did.\n\n\"Very well, Jones, let us continue. The cosine is equal to...\"\n\n---\n\nRead more of my stories at /r/jd_rallage" ]	3
	[WP] A blowhard frontrunner for an election in the developed world is killed by a tiny meteorite, on national television, literal seconds after uttering the phrase "If I am a liar, may God strike me down where I stand."	[ "\"The Mexicans will pay! I will build this wall, it will be 30 feet, 60 feet high!\" Trump paused for dramatic effect, allowing the crowds to go wild. Holding up his right hand, sneering, he paused for a while longer, before announcing \"And if I am a liar, may God strike me down!\"\n\nThe heavens trembled, the stadium shook and a single celestial bolt descended and cracked his head in twain. \n\nThere was silence throughout the stadium, save for Melania's elated screeches at her pure emancipation.", "I was not god. I was a simple man given, by the grace of god perhaps, an intimate knowledge of the workings of machines. While other children made small airplanes made of paper, I constructed drones. When those children grew up to blast off bottle-rockets, I launched my first small satellite. I was always a few steps ahead of the curve, my father had liked to tell me, and while my body had failed me over the years, my mind was still as bright as ever. \n\nAnd now this man stands on his stage in Iowa, preaching hate and retribution against those who have never wronged us. He has screamed to the world that he is a religious man, and that god was with him. \"If my actions are unjust,\" he cried, \"May he strike me down where I stand!\" It was live television. All very sensational. \n\nA very grand gesture, I thought, must be met with an equally grand gesture. If this man is allowed to continue, I could see where it would take us. Genocide. War. Disease. My mind existed nearly entirely in tomorrow, so taking a glimpse of what would happen wasn't difficult. Always a few steps ahead. I smiled. Still, I was not god, but perhaps he would forgive me for acting in his name. I blinked rapidly at the computer set ahead of me. Words rapidly flashed across the screen. I blinked once to confirm them. \n\n\"Retrieval Satellite 1103, release center mass to 41.569015,-93.544357.\"\n\nIt was almost too easy. \n\n\"confirmed, Doctor Hawking.\" The robotic voice chirped in my ear. Wonderful. \n\nPerhaps now those in the world would not be so quick to claim divine direction. It would not be so. I could already see it, but perhaps I would still have helped the world avoid a dark time. Settling back into my chair, I waited for the meteor to finish its long descent. \n", "\"Mr. Drumpf your time is...\"\n\n\"No. no. I'm not done talking. You will NOT cut to one of my tiny testicaled opponents. What do they have to say? No one cares! They are teeny-weenie losers. Who cares what their opinions on national security? They are uneducated unlike me! I have the BEST thoughts! My ideas are so GREAT! We need to build force field bubble to keep everyone out! It's the only way! Who wants foreigners here? Surely not the millions of winners who support ME!\n\nSO I'LL TELL you. I'll tell you what I will do. I'm a GREAT builder. I've built the BEST things in the world. The architectural community WORSHIPS me. I can build a force bubble. It'll be easy for me because I'M the best at EVERYTHING. I have NEVER FAILED. And my force bubble is what is going to make this country great again! And if I am a liar, may GOD strike ME DOWN where I STAND!!!\"", "It took thousands of years, millions of deaths, and one smug sneering face, but the human race finally succeeded in its greatest mission since the dawn of mankind: to make God give a damn. It almost seemed too much to ask after all this time, and it seemed like more than anyone could hope, for God to damn even a single person for all the sins He laid out so long ago. But after all the murder, genocide, and evil our kind went through, a single politician had forced God's hand.\n\nThe first day, the world was in shock. Out of all the things that God would reveal himself for, it was to silence one politician? Opponents of the politician celebrated and showed this as proof that God was on their side, while some supporters desperately tried to cling to the hope that this was all some conspiracy. Others tried to make peace with the fact that God was against them, while still others claimed this was just the Devil impersonating God to test them. Pitifully few bothered to acknowledge any error in their ways.\n\nThe second day, several more momentous events occurred. A few world leaders were found dead the next morning, several large corporations had their headquarters mysteriously disappear off the face of the Earth, and a few random middle-aged men living alone across from elementary schools started calling police departments to request to be locked up. No-name desk assistants replaced their missing bosses and several parents of \"troublesome children\" found themselves unable to get out of bed. The smog in the atmosphere was instantaneously lifted, causing many collisions from confused drivers who have never known clear skies. It may have been a single politician that caused God to come down and announce His presence, but it was clear that He was here to stay. \n\nThe third day was when people realized this, that the world was now inherently different. Career felons plotting their next big hit started working towards their degree, murderers started preaching pacifism, politicians started talking to their constituents, and chefs started cooking their own food. It seemed like God didn't even have to lift a finger to do good. But He did regardless. He destroyed every reserve of oil available to the Earth and began supplying generators with some of His own unlimited power. He built an infrastructure for delivering food and water to every single person in the world. He even modernized His system for hearing and answering prayers, in order to better facilitate delivering resources.\n\nAs the days, months, and years went by, the presence and necessity of God became more and more real and urgent. A homeless man in danger of starving would only have to pray, promising his loyalty, and a meal fit for kings would be delivered to him. A young college graduate hoping to make a name for herself could pray to recognize the greatness of God and she would rise to the top ranks of any company she desired. The wicked and immoral were punished, but only to the extent they deserved. Everyone agreed this was a better world.\n\nAnd then God decided that the world needed no other leaders under him. Delegating the leadership of humans to other corruptible humans was only weakening his power. He would have outright abolished all human leadership and taken direct control of them all, but too many prayers to be put in positions of influence and power had to be answered. So He congregated the entire human race and began to explain His vision, where humans would no longer have to worry about petty contests, and how they could leave everything to Him. After all, he was omnipotent, and would have no trouble ensuring the happiness of all if individual desires did not conflict with His plan. This was where some humans started becoming disillusioned. They did not want to lose control over their own lives, they wanted to make something of themselves. Sometimes, that required God's help, but in the end, ambition was what drove them to live. They began questioning the motives of God. The true devotees amongst them begged the skeptics to not ruin their chance for God to make their lives happy. As debate sprung up around the world, God saw His grip slipping. His vision for a more perfect world was driving His followers away from him, and He needed to do something, now.\n\nHe appeared, not just as an image, but as His true self before every human on Earth, and proclaimed \"I AM THE LORD ALMIGHTY. I UNDERSTAND WHAT MUST BE DONE. I AM ABLE TO DO IT, FOR THE BETTERMENT OF ALL. IF I AM A LIAR, MAY THE UNIVERSE STRIKE ME DOWN WHERE I STAND\"\n\nThree seconds later, a tiny streak of light came shooting through the atmosphere to the spot where God stood.\n\n5 seconds later, his crumpled lifeless body fell to the Earth.", "\n\nSome millions of years ago in the depths of space a large chunk of rock smashed into another large chunk of rock. The resulting collision sent an almost innumerable amount of shrapnel in every direction. In order of magnitude, the rock that ended up going through Don Johnson’s skull was the 8,435,345th largest. It had no hopes or aspirations, no utility whatsoever. Merely the resultant effect of an event set forth by the creation of the universe.\n\nAnd they say determinism is all hogwash!\n\nAs a dying dinosaur looked to the ashen sky, a great crater smouldering across the world, the rock slowly span in and out of view. Uncaring of that great meteor which had just struck the world. Thousands of times its size, formed for some other great purpose. Ending its million year journey in the Yucatán. Or what would eventually be called so.\n\nAs Martin Luther looked to the sky after nailing a piece of paper to the church door, the rock tumbled unaware of its great purpose. Of its divinely inspired mission. More pure than Manifest Destiny. Just entering the confines of our solar system, peering at Pluto. The planet, or planetoid. The distinction of no apparent value. All its brethren living out the rest of eternity floating aimlessly in the void, the rock felt the full force of gravity for the first time in eons.\n\nDon Johnson looked at the starless sky from the brightly lit stage, crowds of cheering and histrionic fans at his feet. Supporters maybe, but definitely fans. A small boulder slowing burning up in the atmosphere.\n\nThis is our night! It’s time to take back this great country once and for all. The polls close in just a few minutes, but I’m pretty much ready to call this one for us!\n\nThe crowd went wild. The rock, now the size of a thimble, charred by its harsh entry slowed to the speed of a bullet, for the first time in millions of years felt ready for something different.\n\nOur mission is inspired by God. And if he hath any qualms with my presidency, may he strike me down this very moment!\n\nThe rock in all its ethereal glory flew straight through Don Johnson’s brain stem. Killing him immediately. The crowd chuckled at this welcomed sight of slapstick he’d been so well known for. And as the laughter died down he never got up.\n\nThe rock was dislodged from his corpse and tossed aside. Don Johnson’s body began to slowly decompose. Every single member of the audience eventually died too. The rock nestled into the ground ready for the long haul. The only remaining memory of a moment long lost to history. \n\n\nThe Earth eventually was hit by an even larger rock that killed the rest of the humans. And from the ashes new forms evolved. And those too were eventually destroyed. At the hand if God, or nature. It doesn't really matter. Determined ambivalence. \n\nAnd as pressure built and continents drifted the small stone was ground up and fully assimilated into the world. Claiming just as much ownership of it as anyone else. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	5
	[WP] Tell a story about love where the characters are kept as vague as possible.	[ "Sometimes, love isn't very complicated. \n\nHe loved her. \n\nShe loved him back. \n\nThey were partners and interdependent with each other. One cannot survive without the other. They were ying and yang. \n\nBut sometimes, it doesn't take much for love to fall apart. Arguments. Abuse. Death. Love is a fragile thing, a butterfly. Love is delicate and beautiful but it cannot last forever. He knew that. She knew that. \n\nBut he didn't prepare to the inevitable, as her blood washed onto his hands, a wrecked vehicle turned over. \n\nThey were ying and yang. One cannot survive without the other. \n\nThe police found his body a month later. \n\nedit: better wording. ", "One day, you will look back on yourself and wonder how you had made it from that point, to where you are now. \n\nIs it because of you, or because of her? Is it because of who you were or who you were becoming? Is it solely to be blamed on what became of her?\n\nThese thoughts will continue to haunt you: following you while you make your way down the street, sitting beside you as you drink your coffee, waiting for you to slowly close your eyes just after midnight before they pounce on your barely conscious body.\n\nYou'll never forget the way her eyes stared up at you; lifeless, before life had even reached her.", "This morning, things are the same. \nIt starts with the mug. Filled by coffee with gaseous lumps. The owner doesn't mind that it's dirty. Unwashed for the number of days it has been, there is genuine concern for his health, but this man had the tried and tested immune system of a bachelor. \nIt would be tested again. \nIn these routine mornings, the mug is accompanied by a similarly unkempt plate. Today's breakfast consists of two microwaved sausages, a dab of ketchup, and as always, the mug of coffee. An unused napkin sits to the side, tragically being the only clean thing on this table. It is ignored, but kept there out of habit. Perhaps one day it will be used, but the hands were to remain greasy and unmotivated. \nThey grab at the mug, a fork, and swipe grease over the smart phone. It sat silently on the table, projecting web pages, news, and any distraction guided by practiced fingers. It never ringed or buzzed either. \nTwo minutes later, he gets up, pushing the chair a few inches behind him. The kitchen faucet is turned on, briefly pouring water through his hands. It's never quite enough, but the excess fat and dirt are wiped away subconsciously on his way to work each morning. \nSo the door closes, leaving the mug emptied on a neglected table. It kept messy company, save for the napkin. \nThis breakfast battleground is frozen in time for nine hours on weekdays. The scene did not change on weekends, as the owner had no plans then. \nLater, he returns. A bag crashes to the ground as he makes his way to the mug. He grabs it, filled once more with coffee and gaseous lumps. The owner doesn't mind that it's dirty. \nThat's right. The mug is being used twice a day, and remains unwashed. \nThis is the crude efficiency of a single man. It is familiar to the owner, but not by choice. The days continued to pan out in this methodical routine of neglect, habit, and ketchup stains. \n\nSome weeks later, the morning is different. \nIt starts with a mug. Filled by coffee, smooth and steaming. The owner washed it the night before. There is genuine concern for his kitchenware, not willing to chance the tried and tested immune system of his formative years. \nIt wouldn't be tested this morning. \nIn these new mornings, the mug is accompanied by a plate from a new set. Today's breakfast consists of eggs benedict, toast, pancakes and orange juice, and as always, the mug of coffee. A fresh napkin is set to the side, as part of a new morning routine that require his hands to be clean, no matter how meticulous he thinks he is. \nDeftly, hands move across the table, sipping from the mug, cutting eager morsels, wiping his fingers clean so that the smart phone wouldn't get any grease. It sat in silently, but with subdued excitement. Sometimes it buzzed, asking the owner how his day was looking, or what his plans were later that evening. \nFifteen minutes later, he gets up, lifting his chair a few inches behind him. The kitchen faucet is turned on, pouring water down a plate, silverware, and the mug. The owner's hands are washed thoroughly with his kitchenware. \nThe mug is set reverently on a counter on top of a towel, where clean kitchenware keeps it company. Satisfied, the owner makes his way out the door with enthusiasm. \nThis serene solitude is frozen in time for nine hours on weekdays. Some weekends were different, depending on the owners plans. \nLater, he returns. A bag is set to the side as he makes his way to the mug. He grabs it, filled with a cool glass of water. The owner minds his caffeine to get a good night's rest. \nThat's right. The mug is still being used twice a day, and remains well-used. \nThis is the optimism of a man in a relationship. It is new to the owner, but comfortable. The days continued to pan out in this methodical routine of cleanliness, self-care, and orange juice. \n\nOne special morning, things changed forever. \nIt started with two mugs. \n\n \n" ]	3
	[WP] You just woke up in a strange apartment with no collection nor memory of who you are . there is no one else in the world .	[ "> Decided to make this wp as i misunderstood another wp . facepalm . as the story is quite good , i couldn't let it go waste . so , yeah . enjoy ~\n\n\n\n\nthud\n\nI sat up instantaneously . \"What is that ?\" I asked myself . a few moments of silent before i realised something . \"Where am I ? More importantly , who am I ? Why is it so quiet ?\" I bombarded my self with lots of question . I stood up , walked to the window of the strange apartment where I woke up and looked out .\n\nI could see lots and lots of cars on the road . however , not a single person was seen . it took me a few moment before I realised that it was totally dirty , both in the apartment and the outside . the city was in ruins . it was like a major catastrophe had struck the town . i was puzzled . i looked around the apartment and saw a telephone . i picked it up . but , there was no beeping sound . i felt scared . i tried to turn on the light and fan in the room . to my surprise , the switch did nothing .\n\nNever in my live that i felt as scared as this , not that I remembered anything though . stupid . i looked at the bed , it was totally dirty . at this very moment , my eyes caught a gaze on something on the desk next to the bed . i reached out my hand , and cleared the dust on the desk . it was a note . the paper looked totally worned out . it was no longer in a great shape . after examinating the paper , i proceed to read it ,\n> dear Aiman , if you are reading this , pelase brace yourself before you continue reading . by the time i wrote this note , almost every living human in the world has been captured . on 2046 , Earth has been invaded by extra terestrials . they have came to take us for their planet's needs . you , and only you , are the sole survivor of this . we did everything we can to save you after you suddenly lose conciousness during an encouter with THEM . we have put a barrier around the apartment . as long as you don't open it , they cann't come in . so , as soon as you wake up , go out and run to the basement . just go to the ladder and go down . you aren't stupid . we put lots of research data about THEM there . the key is in your pocket . please . come and save us .\n\n\n\nto be continued", "I open my eyes expecting my usual morning view, her face, sleeping peacefully. Today I see something else. A brick wall. Where am I? Where is she? I look out a window. Dust has collected on the glass. There is no one outside. No newspaper in the driveway. Not a single car on the road. I wipe the the window clean. The face reflected in the glass is unfamiliar. Who is this person staring back at me? I check my pockets. No wallet. No drivers license. I ransack the apartment for clues. Nothing. Who am I? How did I get here? What do I do without her? The sky turns to black. The clouds swirl. I spot a shotgun on the mantle. Morbid thoughts flood my mind. I grab the gun. It's heavier than it looks. The barrel slides between my jaws. " ]	2
	[WP] Write a short story in which the last paragraph is identical to the first.	[ "The wind rushed past his face, messed up his hair. He didn't have a thought in his mind, just the sensation of falling. Finally he was happy.\n\nThe last few weeks had been even more shifty than normal, kicked out of school, fired, disowned. He found that he had no one left in the world, and not by choice. No, he was the type of person who needed others, until just this moment.\n\nPermanent solution, temporary problem. Better than no solutions at all right? He wondered if he could do flips right now, or if that would spoil things. Too bad he didn't have a parachute, or he could do this again. Instead this was something to be experienced once. Almost literally throwing a life away. Littering it on the pavement.\n\nThe wind rushed past his face, messed up his hair. He didn't have a thought in his mind, just the sensation of falling. Finally he was happy.", "I bound from my bed. Today was the day I would test my time machine for the first time. It was an odd feeling that I was apprehensive about the test like a nagging part of me wanted to just stop now. I paid it no mind.\n\n\nI made my breakfast with the last of the rice. Rice is cheap and I had given up everything to create the world's first time machine. That was literal actually. I was about to be evicted from my apartment, tomorrow in fact, the police would be here to remove me. It didn't really matter because I was going to go back and fix my life.\n\n\nI was going back not only to prove I could but to fix everything I had done wrong. Spent too much time working and my life had left me and taken my children with me. I was too drunk the weekend my mother died to even see her one more time. I would be able to catch her cancer early enough to stop her from dying this way.\nToday is the day that I actually hit the button. I stood now in my ragged clothing in an apartment I was about to be kicked from with nothing but my machine and my notes. Hundreds of note books full of every bit of the process. I left them in my bedroom just in case the machine exploded or electrocuted me so that at least my invention would live on.\n\n\nI summoned the last of my courage as I looked at the screen. I entered a time, just an hour ago. 6AM, todays date. I breathed in deeply thought of being able to be as happy as I was in this moment forever and I pressed the button to activate that machine.\n\n\nI bound from my bed. Today was the day I would test my time machine for the first time. It was an odd feeling that I was apprehensive about the test like a nagging part of me wanted to just stop now. I paid it no mind.\n", "She was a statue. A stone cold, icy hearted being that stood with an overbearing arrogance and yet a mesmorizing elegance. A demon, with a stare so hot it could burn into your skin, and heat up your soul. She was Satan's spawn, but also Gods perfect creation, a contradiction to reality itself. She was my greatest friend, my worst enemy. She was the lungs that helped me breathed, and the stress that hurt my back. She was my wife, my life, my everything, my nothing. I had to get out, but needed to stay in.", "Being backed into a corner often makes an animal do terrible things -- ghastly things. And when you think about it, man is really nothing more than an animal. Once he feels threatened, once his way of life is interrupted, it takes only one small step to send him over the edge - and into the abyss.\n\nSnap.\n\n__________________\n\nHarold set the book down and took a sip from his glass, thought for a second, then pulled his silky, blood-red handkerchief from its familiar place in his breast pocket. He wiped the glass down slowly - almost lovingly - then turned his gaze to the faded picture of his wife that rested on his mantle, above the fireplace.\n\nHer face was lit up, as always, with a brilliant smile that made her cheeks glow and her eyes sparkle. Harold could still hear her joyful, warm laugh ringing in his ears, as clearly as it had on the day they were married - twelve years ago today. \n\nBeeeeep.\n\nHe glanced down at his watch. \n\n11:55. It was almost time. \n\nHarold gently lifted his black leather gloves from their familiar place on the table and slipped them on slowly. He slid into his boots, lacing and tying them with the utmost care, careful not to pull each lace harder than the others. \n\nHe stood up and glided noiselessly to the door, which was exactly twelve feet and six inches away from his armchair. Six steps. He lightly turned the knob to open the door, which eased open on its well-oiled hinges. Ninety degrees. He stepped through the frame and into the darkness, making sure to close the door behind him. Ninety degrees again.\n\nClick.\n\nThe only necessary noise, the light switch. \n\nHarold took the stairs one at a time. Twelve steps. \n\nHe checked his watch again. 11:58.\n\nAs he turned the corner into his basement, Harold was comforted by the familiar scene that met his eyes. His implements were arranged perfectly in a row, as they always were. There were twelve of them, ordered by size, their polished steel emitting a soft metallic glow as they reflected the white fluorescent light.\n\nHarold selected the vise - the largest of the twelve - and the pistol - sixth largest - and turned exactly ninety degrees to face the hooded figure quivering on the table in the corner. He walked up and positioned the vise around his victim's right leg, exactly six inches below the knee, ignoring the muffled screams coming from underneath the rough burlap hood. He glanced at his watch once again.\n\n11:59. Thirty seconds left. \n\nHarold closed his eyes softly and let the dull black newspaper text fill his vision, as he had so many times before. \n\n_______________________________________________\n\nDecember 6th, 1990.\n\nPolice identified Martha A. Bowman, 41, as the victim of a hit-and-run earlier today on the corner of Market and Oak. Witnesses at the scene state they saw her walking with her husband, Harold, 43, as a white sedan careened off the road and into Bowman before the driver rolled down the window and fired two shots - one into her abdomen, the second into her head. She sustained a shattered tibia in the initial impact and reportedly screamed in pain, begging her husband to help her. Witnesses called an ambulance while Mr. Bowman attended to his wife, but she was pronounced dead at the scene by paramedics.\n\n_________________________________________________\n\nBeeeeep.\n\n12:00. It was time.\n\nHarold dutifully began tightening the vise around his victim's leg - 90 degrees at a time. The muffled screams rose to a crescendo, now begging him to stop, but he paid them no mind. \n\nTighter, tighter...\n\n___________________________________________________\n\nBeing backed into a corner often makes an animal do terrible things -- ghastly things. And when you think about it, man is really nothing more than an animal. Once he feels threatened, once his way of life is interrupted, it takes only one small step to send him over the edge - and into the abyss.\n\nSnap.\n" ]	4
	[WP] Last night, your spouse's ghost, lost and confused, begged you to solve their murder, so they can move on. The problem is... you're the killer.	[ "I sigh rolling over while simultaneously reaching out for you coming fully awake when I realize you are not there. I listen for any bathroom noises when hearing nothing I slip out of bed puzzled.\nIt's all the way downstairs through the garage and into the yard before I find you.\nSilhouetted by moonlight looking at me so lost and confused.\nThat's when I remember. I stagger back clasp a hand to my chest.\nMy whole body rejecting the knowledge I vomit.\nStumbling back into the house I bolt the door behind me and go back through the garage to the living room collapsing onto the sofa.\nI breathe deeply and take in my surroundings. There on the coffee table my wine glass sits empty accompanied by the equally empty bottle. \nI shake my head. You can't be there because I killed you. I'm losing it, cracked up, maybe I'll be able to plead insanity. \nI cooked your favorite dinner tonight. When you said we needed to talk I knew something was wrong. You haven't been the same. All those long hours. \nThen you came in and I poured the wine. I took one look at you and I knew. I didn't mean to John. I was so upset. I had the bottle already in hand and when I lashed out. I didn't mean to.\nIt's ok though John. I forgive you. \n", "Day Four\n\n\"How's the hunt going? Did you find my killer yet?\"\n\n\"Nope. I was, um, tracking leads all day. Everything kept coming up empty. Sorry.\"\n\n\"That's ok. There's always tomorrow.\"\n\nDay Twelve\n\n\"Final Fantasy X? You've even beaten this one before. Twice! I was there! What the hell, man?\"\n\n\"First of all, this is the remaster, so it's different. Second... I'm tired.... from chasing your killer, I'll have you know.\"\n\n\"You found my killer!?!\"\n\n\"Yup. Totally. But he got away. It was crazy, I chased him to a rooftop and it was like he vanished into thin air. I'm sure he just hid somewhere, but I sure as hell couldn't find him. I've got guys working on it though. We may have a lead on a warehouse somewhere. Now can you get off my ass? You know how hard this stupid Yunalesca battle is.\"\n\n\"That's... well, that's tremendous. I'm sorry I doubted you. In that case, don't forget you have to zombify everyone and cast reflect a bunch.\"\n\nDay Twenty-One\n\n\"Why's there a container of ricin in the attic? Honey?\"\n\nDay Twenty-Two\n\n\"So you see, it's a spacious 3 bedroom with an open floor plan just like you were looking for. As you can see the seller is in the process of moving out and, although it just popped on the market this morning, the seller is motivated. Put in a low bid and the worst he can do is counter-offer.\"", "After some time off, Mike had returned to work. His co-workers were understanding of his situation and despite his objections did most of his work for him. After an afternoon of checking emails and Facebook he felt annoyed, but relieved things were returning to normal.\n\nMike walked over to the fridge, grabbed a beer and sat in front of the TV. But before he could even turn it on he felt a chill. An apparition appeared before him. It was his dead wife Carol. In a flash of blinding light and mist she proclaimed, \"My love i have returned, i require your assistance!\" \n\nMike looked up and calmly replied \"Oh hey Carol, what's up?\"\n\n\"Mike! On the fateful night of my murder i was taken from you and this realm with questions burning in my mind! I need you to solve my mur..\"\n\n\"It was me.\" he interrupted\n\n\"...Excuse me?\" she said confusingly.\n\n\"Yep, all me.\" he replied.\n\n\"What the fuck Mike! I thought we were in love! We've been married for ten years!\" she shouted.\n\n\"I just stopped loving you Carol. Five years ago when you got that sales job, you were never around. Then you didn't want to have kids anymore because you wanted to focus on your career. I've been cheating on you for four years now with Rachel from accounting.\" he explained.\n\n\"I knew it! That Bitch! Wait wait wait. That's not important right now. How could you of killed me? You were asleep when i heard that sound downstairs. You had taken your sleeping pills so i knew i wouldn't be able to get you to wake up. So i went downstairs myself and was killed by that robber.\" she inquired.\n\n\"I faked sleeping and payed some drifter to break into the house. Was easy enough, I found him near the train station on the way to work. I paid him $1000 to break in and leave town. Never even got his name. When you went downstairs i just hit you in the back of the head with a baseball bat i found in someones yard and you went down easy. After that i paid the guy and he left town. He even said he liked the bat so i gave it to him. Saved disposing of it later. Then i went back upstairs, took some pills and slept through the night. It wasn't until 5AM when Mr Johnson saw the broken window and decided to investigate.\" He explained.\n\nMike took a sip of beer. \"Ahhhhh. Yep, no one ever even suspected me.\" he announced in confidence.\n\nCarol Floated backwards. She was in awe at what her husband had gotten away with. Just then she felt something odd on the back of her head. Or, better yet she could no longer feel it. A large chunk of her skull had disappeared. The realisation of her death had caught up to her spirit. \n\nCarol stared at her husband. She could feel her spirit being put to rest. She was being pulled to the other side. But instead of serenity, she felt only rage. In her last moments on Earth she screamed. \"MIKE YOU BASTARD! I'LL SEE YOU IN HEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!\" and she faded into nothing.\n\nMike paused for a moment. Put down his drink and picked up the remote. Turning on his television he thought to himself whether Rachel would be free tonight.\n\n \n\n", "I let out a sigh of relief as I pulled into my driveway. Another work week done and that hallowed day, Friday, was finally here. I got out of my car and made sure to lock it as I walked up to my front door. \n\nIt sure was weird coming home to a locked door, after the 'incident' and all. She always would have dinner ready by the time I came home, and since the locks tended to be finnicky she would save me the hassle of unlocking them myself.\n\nI brought my thoughts back to the present and was surprised. What caused that sudden flashback? It had been over a month, and I had come to peace with what happened. What I did. As I kicked my shoes off and hung up my jacket, I realized I heard what sounded like wind. As I looked around trying to guage where it was coming from, I realized it originated from the upstairs. Odds are I forgot to close it when I woke up and it was creating a loud draft in the house, no worries. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, a sudden feeling of anxiety came over me.\n\nI remember the look on her face. The pure look of betrayal, of being lied to and deceived by the one you loved most. Her face was an awkward blend of bright red and dark purple. I remember the silence that followed, and the impending guilt. But it never came.\n\nAgain surprised by this I shook the feeling off and walked down the hallway to my room. The door was closed. Now I began to justify my anxiety. I crept over to the hallway closet to arm myself with a metal baseball bat that I keep for emergencies like these. Expecting the worst, I slowly cracked open the door expecting to see a thief rifling through my possessions. As the door opened more gradually, I started to relax as there was no signs of a break in or someone in my room. I walked over to my dresser to check for my emergency cash in my drawer, and thankfully it was still there. Everything looked exactly as I left it. So what the hell closed the door?\n\nThere was that feeling again, stronger than the two previous times. I felt watched. I looked in the mirror at my reflection and just told myself that it was nothing. When I turned around, the image of a woman was hanging in the air. She came more into focus out of a thin mist and she floated towards me. \n\n\"Jack...\" her voice said. There was no mistaking it. It was her. It was Janet. Surely this had to be some sick prank my friends were playing on me. They probably got a fog machine and used a projector to display her image. But it didn't seem right at all. She floated towards me, and despite her otherwise ghostly form, her touch felt very real. She put her hand on my shoulder and it immediately chilled my skin.\n\n\"Jack. What happened? I need to know what happened.\" She droned on repeatedly. I thought to myself this is it, the revenge of it. She came back from the grave to enact her revenge on me. \n\n\"Jack who did it?\" she inquired. Still in shock unable to reply, she started asking it more fervently. \"Who did it jack? Who did it? Why? It's so cold here... I want to leave. I can't stand this anymore. Who Jack? Who?\" Each time she asked it drove a nail through me. After years I had grown sick and tired of this woman, but her pleading somehow reached me. \n\n\"I can't leave Jack. I need to know who did it. I can't\" her voice trailed off. She started to fade back into nothingness and I immediately reached for her. But all that I caught was air and like that she was gone. " ]	4
As inspired by a Japanese manga.	[WP] While walking on the street, a girl fell down from a tall building and landed on you. Both are dead. However, Death appears in front of your spirits and informs you that it was a mistake and he would only take one life. He gives you both 7 days back to Earth to decide who will die.	[ "Mila cupped her hands together to catch the sloppy rain. She shivered in her skin with each drop. \n\nDustin was on the steps, shivering with the rain. He watched her with new eyes. \nEach of them, a new beginning again. But, an end again in 7 days. \n\nThey exchanged phone numbers, nervously chuckled about their luck (or lack therefore of) and agreed to meet in 7 days. In a safe park, with no tall buildings. \n\nMila trailed away down the sidewalk. Dustin knew what needed to happen. \nDustin prowled the streets outside her apartment, walking between shadows. Her outline appeared in the window for a second, a garish sequin jacket reflecting the inner lights. She came down to the street, ready to celebrate another week. Her high heels clicked along the pavement, reverberating in his skull. \n\nHe weighed a heavy wrench in his hand, lifted from a pickup truck two blocks down. The metal scrapped against a stray garbage can like talons on stone. She froze with big ears, listening for any shadowy sounds. He kept creeping forward, pupils at a pinpoint focus. She was at a red light, too civilized to run ahead. A taxi was coming up, charging up the asphalt, seconds away. \n\nHe had her. He pounced. A short burst from behind and she was knocked into the road, arms pinwheeling. The taxi was there, but a split second too late; she fell on the road just to the right of the roaring taxi.\n\nHe slinked back into the shadows. She spoke briefly with the taxi driver, and scurried down the road with her tail tucked between her legs. Six and a half days to go.\n", "I am not Maxim, this is purely fictitious. \nWhen I was growing I was not very much of a ‘friendly person.’ What I mean is that if the cafeteria offered seconds I would be that guy that would get seconds first. Or if the teacher has a ‘wardrobe malfunctions.’ Instead of bluntly ignoring it I would be the guy who would say ‘BOOBIES!’ out loud. My name is Maxim, and 1 week ago my life changed. Walking to work is somewhat difficult, I live in a very ghetto, yet somewhat relaxing Skid Row, inside my desolated 4th floor ‘luxury’ apartment. I chose to live in Skid Row, because Los Angeles has over the top priced housing. Seriously when considering UCLA, I was joking that I could rent a Brentwood bathroom, for the housing I could afford in Skid Row. As you might as guess I am going to UCLA, I am getting a Major in English, for an up and coming Law degree. Many things happen in Skid Row, stealing, assault, jumping off buildings, fight clubs, wheelchair fights, murder…You name it happens in Skid Row. While getting a degree in English sounds more or less easy, The amount of writing that professors make us write and consume is outstanding. My writing is usually based in what’s happens around me in Skid Row. I can’t say I have seen it all, but you can be sure as hell that I have seen a lot. \nI was walking to one of my ‘lookouts’ I write small stories of what happens around me that usually gets turned into my weekly 10,000. (Must be over 10,000 words) I pass the usual guys I see Ricky Rhyme, the neighborhood rapper that live above the hood. I see Deloris, my somewhat schizophrenic ‘neighbor’ that lives a few doors down in my apartment building, she was rambling about how communism, and socialism was made by the devil, and somehow we should crucify it. Then I see Elmo, the best Italian sandwich maker in out subdivision, and now and again I pass by somebody that I know. Walking towards the lookout that I call ‘HTAM.’ \nMy luck was exceptional that day, \nWhile walking on the sidewalk, a women jumps from one of the taller apartment building, the block stops and hears the shriek of a absolutely stunning and alluring women, falling to her death.\nMe.\nHer body impacts my neck, and both of us die right in front of the entire block. \nFor what seemed like eternity in hell, my neck throbbed and jabbed with an accelerated deep pain. I see the women standing next to me, we are in the same place where we died, but the reality around us is simplified, buildings are buildings, not commercial space, the road is clear, and the B.O. of Skid Row disappears. The woman grasps her hip, then she gasps.\n“Ohh My God, I am so sorry.” She was speaking words that sounded like gibberish. A darken figure comes through the distance, he is walking towards us at slow pace, intent in his eyes. As he got closer to me I find the reality around me dissipate into formless dust, we are floating in a dark space. The dark figure starts to talk. “Hello, I am Death, welcome to heaven. “Oh you must kidding me I said.” “I DIED?” “Yeah, pretty much.” He replied. The stunning women, looked like the apocalypse had ended. Out of thin air came 3 chairs. He said, “Now, I don’t usually do this, but for this case I need to talk to the people I killed.” “ I have made a grave mistake, today I was supposed to do a murder in Skid Row, I chose Alena because she was overly depressive and looking forwards towards to die. A win-win as we say. Now, Maxim I did not intend to kill you. \nBut I will make a deal with both of you. I will resurrect both of you, but here is the catch. I will only do so for 7 days, in that time you will have to decide who will live, because I have to take one to sacrifice. Your time starts now.”\nI saw my life flash through my eyes, the pain was intense as my soul fled back into my expired body. I woke in an operation room, my hearts racing. \n“Doctor! His heart pulse just skyrocketed to 257!” “Put him in a temporary coma to rest him, and do it now!” \nI woke with Alena next to me in a bed. I saw a man in a lab coat and he responded. “It’s miraculous that you survived.” “We expected the worst, open skull, flushed heart, but you came out without a scratch. “As for your partner… she also came out without an injury. “We will discharge you at once.” \nAlena and I walked out. \nWe made an instant connection, we loved the same…everything. But her beauty is overwhelming. I try to find the guts to hold her hand, but having an ‘unfriendly, socially inactive’ childhood didn’t help. We talk about our lives, we spend every possible waking moment talking. We become so much like a couple, such a perfect a couple, that I start to lose my identity as ‘emo kid.’ That was my nickname on the streets. \nThe day comes. We ponder on who shall die. Alena is so forgivable and agreeable. At first I want her to live, and soul to be removed. But we fight and pour our energy into who should live. We can to point where, life was too erratic, we both want to be with each other, but we will be ripped from each other. Alena finally wins her argument, and we both decide. That she will go, because she wasn’t getting an education, and I was. A horrible reason. \nDeath materializes in front of us. “Have you made the decision?” Alena says, “You are correct, in a witty way.” “Who will it be?” Death says. “Me.” Alena says. “Do you want to say goodbye to Maxim?” She doesn’t say goodbye, but she says this words before she fades away.\n“The worst things in life come free to us.” \nThen she’s gone. \n \n", "I sipped my coffee, and tried not to look at the girl across from me. Just an hour ago, we'd never met each other, and now our lives were twisted together in a most unusual way. How do you break the ice with someone when you find out that one of you must die so that the other person can live? \n\"So,\" she said. I looked up, and after a few seconds of her struggling to find something to say, I spoke up. \n\"What were you doing on the roof anyways?\" I asked. She sighed and looked outside. \n\"My life hasn't... been going how I expected,\" she explained. \"I just got laid off, my brother stopped talking to me, I haven't had a date in years, so I...\" \n\"You were going to kill yourself?\" \n\"No!\" she said loudly. A few people turned to look at us, and she lowered her voice. \"No. I mean, I didn't really think about it at first, but, when I got up there... Look, it doesn't matter. It just makes this whole thing easier, right? It's pretty obvious what we should do.\" \n\"Maybe it's fate's way of giving you a second chance,\" I suggested. \"This gives you the opportunity to get help, talk out your problems. Things might not look so bad after a while.\" She snorted at my suggestion. \n\"You have no idea what you're talking about,\" she said dismissively. Every word out of her mouth filled me with an almost uncontrollable rage. \"My life is complete and utter crap. Blathering on about it won't make it better, so who the fuck cares?\" \n\"You think your life sucks because you lost your jobs?\" I demanded quietly. \"You hit one little rough patch, and that's it? You throw in the fucking towel and throw away the next 70 years of life because 'who the fuck cares'? Well guess what bitch, some of us don't get a choice. I just got diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. Do you have any idea what that means? I'm going to be dead in less than a year, and unlike your selfish ass, I don't get a fucking choice, so don't bring your pathetic, no-good, self-serving pity party to the table and expect ME to care!\" It was then I realized everyone in the Starbucks was looking at me. At some point, I must've stood up and started yelling, judging by the looks on everyone's face. I muttered an apology to everyone and sat back down. Slowly, people returned to their own little worlds, while she and I sat in silence. \n\"Look,\" she finally said. \"I get that people have it way worst than me. I really do. But I can't help how I feel, you know? I can't just stop feeling that way.\" \n\"I know,\" I said. \"I understand... well, maybe not more than you think. But talking with someone really could help.\" \n\"Why the hell should I?\" she asked angrily, tears in her eyes. \"If I had cancer instead, and I decided not to get treatment because I didn't want to go through the pain of chemeo and radition and all that crap, would you be so quick to criticize?\" I sat, stunned for about a minute before I looked away and out the window. \n\"I... I actually had the option of getting treatment,\" I explained. \"It wouldn't make my cancer go into remission, but I'd stay alive as long as the cancer didn't grow resistant to the chemeo. The entire time though, I'd be tired and sick and... I just figured, it'd be better to cram as much as life as I could into what time I have rather than sit around, existing just as I could.\" \n\"So you do get what I mean,\" she said. \"There's always that chance something could come along and cure your cancer, but you don't want to go through the pain of waiting and hoping. It's the exact same thing with me, except I'm ready. I've reached the end of my cancer. It's my time.\" \n\"I can't just let you die,\" I said. \"I couldn't live with that guilt. And don't even think you can convince me that by you dieing, I'll see the value of getting treatment and hoping something will get discovered that can really help me.\" \n\"And don't you think you can just kill yourself, I'll see the value of living because I don't have a ticking time bomb in my body,\" she replied. We both sighed and sipped at our now lukewarm drinks. \n\"So,\" she said again. I looked up, and after a few seconds of her struggling to find something to say, I spoke up. \n\"Wouldn't it be nice if we could just flip a coin and go with that?\" I joked. She looked at me and I shrugged. \"Just trying to lighten the mood.\" \n\"Maybe it's not a bad idea,\" she said. \"No guilt for the other person, no pressure to keep going, just... pure chance.\" I sat there, staring back at her for a few seconds. Then I reached into my pocket and pulled out a coin. \n\"Call it,\" I said as I flipped it. \n\"Heads,\" she said as it hit the table. \nAnd that was all there to it.", "7 days ago started the weirdest week of my life. You see, I've never been much of a people person. My daily routine is to wake up, go to work, come home, and go to sleep for the next day. Pretty depressing when you think about it but hey, it works for me. Anyways, this one day I'm walking home from work and the next thing I know there's nothing. Out of the darkness came a blinding light that filled the seemingly endless space around me with pure white. My eyes adjusted to slowly but as I looked around I saw two figures. One stood tall with a black robe and scythe. I couldn't see it's body but it was fairly obvious it was the Grim Reaper. Guess that means I'm dead then, what a drag. Next to the reaper was a slender girl, my age it seemed. The reaper coughed a few times and spoke up informing us what had just happened. It seemed that there was a mix up in the quantum universe or something and only one of us was supposed to die. Problem was that the reaper didn't know which. Anyways that lead to us being told we would have 7 days to figure out which of us was supposed to die. \n\nOver the week the two of us got very close. We wanted to know everything about each other before we had to make the choice. It didn't take long but we fell in love. Not sure if that's because of the looming death or if she really liked me but hey, I'll take it. By the 6th day we were so close that neither could sentence the other to death. We fought over it for hours until a brilliant idea was hatched. We both decided that neither of us would die, we would tell the reaper that we refused to decide. That night I slept great, better than I ever had before, I finally felt alive. \n\nThe reaper showed up at the exact time we died 7 days ago. Again the blindingly white light surrounded us as a voice that sent shivers down the spine called out asking for our choice. I spoke up, telling the reaper that we had come to a decision and that I was happy with the choice. I held the girls hand as she cleared her throat and spoke out, \"We've both decided that he should be the one to die.\" My heart sank as I heard those words, I looked over with dread in my eyes. \"His life has been nothing compared to mine, he has chosen death.\" With that the reaper's scythe swung down across my chest tearing out my heart and pulling my soul with it. Guess I should have seen it coming. Oh well, at least here I can get back to my daily routine. I've gotta run, don't wanna be late for work. Today they decide what department I get to run, I'm hoping for Greed. They say I know someone that will be stopping by." ]	4
	[WP] [EU] The war between Pokemon and Digimon has raged on for 100 years. Finally, the stalemate is broken.	[ "In an instant it was all over. \n\nThe war had raged on for generations and many digidestined fought and died. Too many trainers-turned-generals lead their war beasts into combat. \n\nIn the beginning our digital friends and their pocket monstrosities were evenly matched. We could strike anywhere using their very own PCs against them. Hitting their hospitals and poké centers, raiding military installations from their phones. \n\nIt all changed when the mysterious general, simply known as Red, showed up. He employed strange tactics, dropping magcargo on bunkers, abandoning technology and using a psychic network of rare and ancient pokemon. Tides were turning all because of this seemingly immortal child. \n\nSo we devised an end game.\n\nThe trick was the gardevouirs. Capable of creating localized miniature black holes. A descendant of General Taichi Kamiya came up with the plan, we create servers in the digital world, cut it off from the real world at the same time we send teams of digidestined armed with black rings to take control of the gardevouirs. \n\nThe teams knew it was suicide but once the gardevouirs were captured, the psychic network would be alerted and the digital world would be closed. Haste was prudent.\n\nCommander Kamiya challenged Red to a battle. A settlement; a distraction. The mightiest Digimon of the digital world against the poke gods.\n\nThe battle raged on, Red's capsulated horrors never died, they just lost consciousness, returning to him. Kamiya had overwhelming courage in the face of his greatest adversary however he was losing the battle. \n\nHalfway through the duel, operation dark storm commenced. As fast as it started it was over. The rings were released and the order was given. Black holes appeared all over the planet and tore it a sunder.\n\nIn an instant it was all over. \n\nWe live peacefully now in the digital world. Waiting for a sign from the other side. To break through and start anew and, with hope, the next time will be a century of harmony.\n", "I know nothing about Pokemon or Digimon but here it goes:\n\n\nHe stepped through the clouds of smoke and stood between my opponent and I. We looked at him, then at each other, then back to him. He looked otherworldly, like a divine of some sort. His head was bowed slightly and his hands were balled into fists at his sides. With one swift motion, my beast and my opponent's were incinerated. We fell back in terror and began scrambling away. \n\n\nHe drew closer, hot on our trails. His silence was haunting. His persistence shook me to my core. He was getting closer to me, I knew I could not out run him. \n\n\nFearfully, I cried, \n\"What do you want with me?!\"\n\n\nHe looked up, his sharp eyes met mine. His sinister appearance grabbed me in and held my attention. Finally, he revealed a pack of strange cards from his coat pocket and shouted, \n\n\n\"I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!\"" ]	2
	[WP] Just because you are immortal does not mean you are indestructible.	[ "“I have to go.” I crossed the room, distancing myself from him. He watched me go, his face a contorting battle between rage and fear. He could never understand the call. If I stayed I would hate myself, just as I have in times past when I avoided that sirens call to fight.\n\nAs I picked up my green jacket he made to grab it out of my hands, “Dad, this isn’t your fight. This isn’t even your country!”\n\nIt was my turn to rage, “They’re all my fights!” I stuffed an arm through the sleeve and glared down at my son, at 20 his face still hung onto the soft, ruddy gleam of youth. I sighed and more calmly finished pulling on the jacket, “Gabe, you know who I am.” I looked aside, “What I am.”\n\nI felt, rather than saw him nod and continued, refusing to look at him, “I fought alongside the powerful Roman army, and did battle with Alexander and the Great Khan. As Napoleon rose to power I chose not to get involved, I settled with my then wife, Claire and turned away from the world.” I lowered my gaze to the floor, I could never hide this kind of over whelming shame, “Napoleon and his army swept through our town and killed everyone save me. Children, women, Claire, our 3 month old daughter.” \n\nI shook my head and brushed past Gabe, grabbing a heavy matching green bag from the floor, “I won’t see Hitler cross the ocean and come after you or your mother. I have to do what I can.”\n\nAs I passed through the door I heard his last remark, screamed with all the anguish of youth, “Just because you’re immortal doesn’t mean you’re indestructible!”\n\nI shuddered and softly closed the door behind me. As I walked away from my comfortable 2 story brick house, where Amanda had cooked so many meals, and laughed at my dumb out-dated jokes, and where I had watched Gabe grow from a tiny, inquisitive baby into the young man that had just railed at me I couldn’t help but think he was right.\n____________________________________________________________________________\nSubscribe to my subreddit /r/MaybeMadi for more stories by me! Feed back is always appreciated!\nლ(ಠ_ಠლ)", "Life is cruel. It's a fact, it's how the world works, life is cruel. No matter how long I've been around; I've never been able to escape the fact that life is cruel. You see, I've been around for over two hundred years, and in all my life, all I've realized is that life is cruel.\n\nImmortality is a curse. The fountain of youth would not be a curse, but immortality is a curse. I was granted immortality at a young age, the circumstances of this happening have been lost to me over the centuries. Of the few things I remember was that I was not the only one, but I am the only one left.\n\nImmortality means that you live forever, but as far as I can tell, it does not mean you're indestructible. My best friend, and the love of my life, Wendy, was not indestructible. She did not die from cancer, and certainly not from old age, but when she fell down the stairs and broke her neck, her immortality was cut short.\n\nThat was over eighty years ago, she was almost a hundred and twenty at the time. I've had to live without her for too long now. That pain has hurt me more than almost any other, that and losing my kids are pain that absolutely eclipses the pain of my day to day life. My body has withered, my bones are like glass, my skin tears, I can barely see, and I can't remember much. I have occasional moments of clarity, like this one right now, but it would seem Alzheimer's is setting in.\n\nImmortality does not mean that you are indestructible. Immortality just means you have to deal with the pain of life more than others. Life is cruel; and why would you want to be immortal?\n\nIf I could move my shaking hands anymore, I'm sure my last meal would be a bullet.", "Project Djinn, case file 17\n\n\nWhat follows is a digital transcript from the journal of Sir Wallace Marbey, OBE, from the 1901 expedition to the Rub' al Khali. Recovered 1950.\n\nEntry April 8th 1901\n\nI have just heard a most marvelous story from my guards. They say that out in the Empty Quarter, in its quiet sands travelers will hear a screaming forecasting a great evil. I would dismiss their claims as provincial superstitions however the nomads I've met have faced hardships that most in the civilised world just aren't prepared to imagine. But even they grew fearful when I asked them about the screaming.\n\nThe legend goes that in the time when the first King of the first kingdom was just a child the great warrior Gilgamesh was already a thousand years old. He had been stabbed and burned, scourged and gored and poisoned and yet still he lived. Towards the end they say his visage was barely human he had been so badly damaged in his life.\n\nBack when the Empty Quarter was a green oasis there was a battle for it. Someone cut Gilgamesh's head from his shoulders. His eyes still moved and his body struggled without end. Seeking to release him from his suffering the enemy cremated him in a specially made furnace, thinking that surely a fire that melted bronze would be enough to kill him at last and usher their honoured foe into the afterlife.\n\nHis body burned to ash but he did not die. All the atoms of his body were still riven through with his vital essence, struggling to hold the ash together as he was scattered by the wind. Gilgamesh was a hero, perhaps the greatest we ever produced, but now he is just a raving shadow of a man, that ancient mind spread across acres of lifeless desert. And that is why it is why the nomads warn that if you ever hear a screaming, out on the Dunes then run, because Gilgamesh is coming.\n\nMay 3rd 1901\n\nWhilst I had believed there was some truths behind my host's claims I believed there was a scientific explanation to be found. After the previous night I am not so sure. It began after we had bedded down for the night and set up the tents. We were eating our dinner by the fire, all huddled under blankets for warmth on the windy desert nights. At first that's all I thought it was, wind, howling a bit louder than before but as it grew I saw the fear in my guides as they began checking the fixtures on the tents and beating out the fire. My interpreter hurried me into my tent and pressed every scrap of cloth to entrance and crumpled it up around the floor of the tent. \n\n\"Gilgamesh is coming.\" He warned me. I wonder if scream is perhaps a mistranslation or if there is simply no better word for the noise I heard but no creature in God's creation can make that noise. The 'scream' moved throughout camp, slowly gathering from every direction. But it was not a chorus it was one voice, one dry rasping noise screech like stone being sand-polished but deeper, rumbling and hateful like a cornered wolf. \n\nIt grew louder and louder and pressed in upon us until I could feel it rumbling in my chest and in my skull. I felt as if we were in the roaring mouth of the Leviathan itself, waiting for it to swallow us whole.My guide threw himself to the floor and muttered his prayers to Allah whilst I chanted the Lord's Prayer, both of us muted from the other by that all consuming scream. I don't know if it was our faith or good fortune that saw us through; considering what I saw this morning I can say with certainty this is a truly godless land. \n\nThe man I had hired out in Abu Dabi was a good man, a father of five and he looked after me well in the time we walked this abyssal plain. In the morning light I found him buried to the shoulders with his face scratched away to the sinews and bone beneath, his mouth and nostrils packed full of sand. \n\nI think the streak of red, viscous sand and tattered rags was his eldest son. Even with his face blasted away, including the eyelids, his eyes themselves were still there in their sockets. I think it made him watch. I pray I am wrong.\n\nMay 6th 1901\n\nMy interpreter and I are heading back to the nearest settlement. We have not slept since my previous entry, we are walking through the the night to get back to safety as quick as possible. I don't think we could sleep even if we wanted to, we hear the screaming every few hours now, out in the distance. I fear that we were not truly spared by Gilgamesh, but rather he is simply playing with us. After all, what is a few days worth of waiting in his timeless half-life. \n\n\nMay 7th 1901\n\n-the following is an approximated transcription the handwriting was barely legible in certain places.-\n\nJust another day! Just another day and we would have been safe. The Lord cannot protect me, but I am leaving this journal as a warning for whoever finds it. I do not know to what corner the desert Gilgamesh will fling this book but please for the love of whatever God you pray to run. Run from the Empty Quarter and never return. \n\nI see it,standing before me, just watching, I think. It is a shape of a man, but blurry and imprecise like a soft brushed oil painting. He has no eyes, no mouth nothing, just a tall pillar of ash coalesced into the shape of a man. I think he is allowing me the time to write because no one has ever reacted to his presence by studying him. Further I suspect that whilst I study him, he studies me, and I imagine the novelty will wear off soon. Please tell Hester and Wilfred Marbey that my last thoughts were of them. \n\nGod Help us all\n\nHis Majesty's Servant, Sir Wallace Benjamin Marbey, OBE\n\n-These are the only known pages of Wallace Marbey's journal, when recovered all other pages were removed. Notably the paper left in the book's spine was not consistent with ripping or tearing but rather a clean cut, speculated to have come from some form of sand blaster.-", "Ever since man has been man, ever since he lost the sloping forehead and the knuckles calloused from their constant contact with the ground, I have been there with him.\n\nI have set foot on every land. I have left my marks in French caves, in Mediterranean pottery, in English tapestry, in Renaissance Italy, in luminated Bibles and German factories and 1970s electronics. I have dined with queens and fought with peasants. I have usurped kings and been drunk with plebians. I have killed and fathered and razed and built and destroyed and created.\n\nI have hated.\n\nI have loved.\n\nAnd I have lost.\n\nMore than anything, I have lost. Time and time again, I have lost. My friends, my enemies, my lovers, my children, but most of all, my identity.\n\nThere is no \"me\". I exist within humanity as her mirror, adopting the fads and the speech and the knowledge of those around me. I am man's reflection, all at once that of a fresh child, a strong adult, and a senile old thing a single rant away from the grave. I have left no marks upon history because I am merely the clay that history imprints itself upon.\n\nAnd I can't do it any more.\n\nPeople took notice when I first laid my shell down in this field, never to get up again. Word spread that there was a man living out here with no desire to move, or speak, or eat or drink or do anything at all. \n\nIf you can call that \"living\".\n\nThey sent journalists and doctors, priests and celebrities, scientists and politicians, but none of them made an impression on me. I've seen them all a thousand times before, and better versions of them too.\n\nAnd just as I was bored of them, they too became bored with me. \n\nOnce I stopped moving, the world moved without me. Once the world moved without me, I could be me. I could do what I wanted to do.\n\nAnd all I want to do is sleep." ]	4
North Korea has an alliance with China and sits on a ton of artillery.	[WP] The US congress declared war with North Korea one hour ago, tell the story from the perspective of a South Korean stationed at the DMZ	[ "Prestigious yeah, but boring as hell. The Joint Security Area is so formalized. Every day we march out here, relieve the guys that stood here for the last four hours and then settle in and wait for our relief. Perfect uniform, perfect posture, standing as unmoving as possible, trying to look intimidating. Yeah, we do it, they do it, and it all means nothing.\n\nWe're two hours in, two more to go. The sun is high in the sky and the weather is perfect if a little breezy. Six of us, six of them. Hell, would anyone know if we just sat down and played some cards? Yeah, cameras everywhere. Ah well, settle in, let the mind wander a bit.\n\nTran has a little cold or something. Every couple minutes I hear this sniff to my right. He's gonna catch hell after we got relieved because every sniff knocks me out of my little happy place I let my mind wander to.\n\nAcross from us we have Doof, Eric, Queen, Lace, and two new guys. We give them all names based on the stories we make up about them. Not a lot else to do when you stare at a few guys four hours a day. Eric is a bad-ass. You can tell. It almost makes me nervous to stand ten yards away from that guy with a loaded gun. Funny, because there has to be enough ordinance aimed right at this spot to take out a platoon of tanks, and I'm scared of the psycho with the AK.\n\nDoof and Queen are good chaps. Doof needs help tying his shoes and Queen is happy to help him because then he can get on his knees in front of him. Yeah, one of our not-funny private jokes at the JSA. Lace likes to dress in women's clothing, but he can't do it in the barracks except late at night in the latrine. That makes him mad, so he likes to strangle puppies in his spare time.\n\nI wonder what they say about us.\n\nSix of us, six of them, perfect uniforms, loaded guns. Lots of time to think.\n\nI hear some distant thunder. Crap, it is NOT going to rain on us. I HATE standing still in the rain. The sky looks clear though.\n\nThen Queen turns his head, hey that's new, and some kind of horn goes off somewhere on our side. Fuck, air raid?\n\nTwelve guns fly from shoulders to hands in a blink. There's a flurry of fire, and all of us hit the deck. I'm not sure if I'm hit or not, but I put my second shot into Queen straight across from me. There's screaming and gunfire all around. None of us have any cover.\n\nMy left arm has quit working. They all look dead or badly wounded. I look at Tran. I look away. Down the line Park is moaning as are a couple of their guys. What do I do now?\n\nI lie there and bleed. I should reload. I should run. But I just don't feel like it.\n\nThe first shell hits.", "\"Shit, I got center post again?\" \n\nShin Dong-Jin had only arrived 6 days ago, yet was already missing his eSports career back in the states. Trading in his PC and headset for a gun and tacky helmet was not on his bucket list, needless to say. Unfortunately, the South Korean government beckoned him to fulfill his civic duty...as if he had a choice. \n\n\"6 days down and...\"\n\nHe briefly crunched the numbers.\n\n\"...725 days to go. This is gonna be dull.\"\n\nIt could be worse though. Food in the belly and a roof over the head, all provided by the government, is nothing to thumb your nose at when considering how bad it is across the border. Shin stares at the green-clad man 20 yards in front of him. It's such a strange reality: a few strides away is a hungry and brainwashed soldier. It's not his fault. It's all he knows. It's all he's allowed to know. \n\n\"Oh good, she's on shift today!\" he thought to himself, briefly snapping out of the surreality of the situation. The slightly flirtatious glances they both exchanged throughout their watch made him hope for a day where peace may endure once again between the two countries. \n\nHe hoped too soon. A commander on the other side marched quickly towards his guards. After a couple commands were shouted, the smile on the girl's face vanished. Simultaneously, tourists behind him began to panic as they began checking the news and social media. War had begun. \n\n\"OK, maybe this won't be so dull after all...\"", "\"I can't believe it.\"\n\"We're out of toilet paper again.\" A young man sits on a worn, white toilet seat with one leg propping the stall door closed. His dark navy blue pants scrunched up and expanded again, resembling a rag-tag accordion.\n\n\"What to do now...\" he looks down and peeks at his underwear -- old. Pondering his options, he decides to go full wild -- it was quite the dry spell anyways. Limping over to the sink, he realizes that he could use paper towels.\n\nBut it's out, too.\nRats.\n\nIt soon became cognizant to the young South Korean man that the \"spell\" was indeed not as dry as first perceived, and thinking of the long hours until release, he knew something had to be done.\n\nThe hand dryer has been spotted.\n\n...\n\nThe young man, almost shimmering with relief and excitement, passes through the restroom door and find his way to his station. He sits down at a table and quickly realizes that his 'solution' wasn't quite complete. And then he saw the short green man. And the man saw him.\n\n\"Oh shit.\"", "Yejun let the lyrics form in his head. I’m still breathing. I’m ALIVE! He had been listening to the radio last night, catching the latest American song. It had been hazy, but he enjoyed the acidic taste of the instruments. It helped him with his job, he reasoned. The exchange of culture was important. \n\nStill, his roommate liked to make fun of him. “Going to move? Find a nice sturdy wife?” \n\nYejun kept his spirits high. He was a handsome man, one with a future. When he wanted wife he would honor his mother with a local girl, handpicked for her beautiful hair and clear skin. A girl a little like Minso, one of the female officers that roamed the halls. \n\nYawning into his sleeve, Yejun tried to keep his eyes open. It was almost time for the shift to change. \n\nHe was about to check the clock on the wall when Minso entered the room, her voice louder than normally allowed. “I need someone to come with me!” Minso demanded. “We need to have a meeting.” \n\nYejun was the only one still on duty. Wu was supposed to come soon, but it was another—ten minutes. \n\n“I cannot just come with you. What is wrong?” \n\n“Bbalgaeng-i!” Minso was softer now. Still the venom could have downed ten grown men. “Are you deaf?” \n\n“Has something happened?” he asked. \n\n“Have you been locked in here forever?” Minso demanded. “How did you not hear!?” She was stricken, her round face collapsing upon itself. She had short hair, a practical choice during these times. Still, Yejun thought she looked rather beautiful, a savior. Now she appeared very young, afraid. Powerless. It made her more human than he liked, something that rarely happened. \n\n“The commies!” Minso said. She was so loud. Yejun preferred the silence of this position. It was steady work. Boring. Now it seemed Minso was full of electricity. \n\nJooyun came around the corner, his hands adjusting his coat. His hair was cut short, making his round face even larger. “Has she been commenting on the news? Why not just tell him, boseul-achi? Or do you want to scream like an American?” \n\n“Cheon-jo has declaired war on bukanistan.” Minso finally spoke after swallowing the true words she was burning with. “We are going to war.” \n\n“War?” \n\n“The Americans have decided to take on the might of the ghosts. And we are likely going to have to pick a side.” \n\n“Why wouldn’t we pick the Americans?” Yejun asked. \n\n“We don’t get to pick sides,” Minso said. “We just get told where to die.” \n \n", "My brother told me to write this. He says that Americans eat up first hand war stories, and it might make enough to buy me a new leg. I apologize in advance to my American readers, English is not my first language. \nI was stationed at the DMZ. I was an engineer who worked on the automated turrets that ROK deployed. The military payed my college tuition under the agreement that I would work for them. I studded abroad at MIT, thus I spoke English quite well. This became my undoing. \nI made it through basic training, but I was nothing special with a rifle or any other weapon. All that was issued to me was a K5 pistol. It always felt awkward in my hands, and I never liked the idea of taking a life. \nThe US planed it all. They had been slowly stationing troops in our garrisons over the past month to give them the advantage. As an English speaker, I was assigned to a squad of a group known as SEALS with the understanding that I wouldn't see combat, only translate. \nWhen the declaration came, nothing changed. No one believed that the DPRK had the resources to launch an assault against us. We were half right. \nI was making my rounds to the turrets, when suddenly, they wurred to life. Hundreds of turrets firing thousands of bullets every minute began firing at will across the DMZ. The noise sent me to the ground. Lucky me. A bullet ripped through the air where I was not a second earlier. Then the artillery hit. \nThe sound of bombs falling isn't something that can be described in words. It's a shrill scream, that splits the mind with its horror. The first explosion hit near the turret to the east of the one I'd been working on. \nThe explosion is a beautiful thing. It's not anything like the movies depict. The explosion is a manifestation of raw power. The distance from myself to destination added to its beauty. The squeal of the bomb died slightly after the blinding flash of light, due to the difference between the speeds of light and sound. The flash leaves the observer blind making the shock wave seem more powerful. The ground shook as the sound hit. I never heard the sound, only felt the vibration of the world and the sudden ringing in my ears. \nI must have laid on the ground for five minutes before a US humvee picked me up. Those people saved my life. Not five minutes after we had left, the turret array was completely destroyed, along with anything, or anyone, that was unlucky enough to be near it. \nWe drove for a while before I regained control of my body and mind. The soldiers were clearly American. It was too dark to tell by skin tone, but the way they held themselves made it plenty obvious. When the attack came, it's as if a switch was flipped. The Americans stopped being human and became warriors. We drove for a bit in silence before another mind shattering explosion hit. The world flipped and lit on fire. My right leg was crushed under the vehicle, but the adrenaline kept me from feeling a thing. I looked around, and the Americans were dead. I gripped my pistol close to my chest. The hunk of cold metal felt alien to my hands. \nI scanned the aria for the source of the explosion. A tank lumbered into view bearing a red star. Apparently, the Chinese had the same idea the as the Americans. The tank was abruptly stopped by a head on collision with what I later learned was an American RPG. English speaking voices began to rummage through the wreak of the humvee. One member of the squad, luckily the medic, saw me. He ran over to me and began to tie a rope around my leg. That's when the bone saw came out. No amount of adrenaline can prepare you for the feeling of your leg being sawn off. I don't know if it was the loss of blood or the pain, but I blacked out. \nI woke up in a field hospital. My whole leg hurt, which was odd, considering it was only about a quarter there. That ended my service, and you all know how the story ends. The Chinese/DPRK assault buckled the border defenses , but a coordinated push by the US, UK, ROK and, Russia, who had been begging for an excuse to expand into China. Korea was united and claimed the bottom half of China, which allowed them to have a seat on the UN war counsel. Northern China is now southern Russia. Kim Jong Un is no more and the former DPRK citizens are recovering and adapting, slowly but surely. ", "The Americans have this expression called ROK-Ready. We call it something else, but you hear the UNCSB staff member say 'ROK-Ready' in your ear often enough as the visitors look at us in awe, the name sticks. It's the stance us guards take for ourselves whenever visitors are in Panmunjon, or, the Joint Security Area. \nOr, as it was once called an hour ago, the \"Truce Village.\" \nI stand half-exposed behind one of the three blue houses that sit on this threshhold between South and North. ROK and DPRK. The Americans loved their acronyms. What makes ROK-Ready special to the visitors, tourists and UNCSB staff isn't the intimidation, the wide stance, or the confident arms held behind my back as I stare across the border. \nIt's the stillness. \nNo breaks. No talking. No emotion. The American and ROK infantry may have guarded, patrolled, and monitored the other side, but it's the Military Police who stand the line. This special unit of the JSA. I worked hard in my mandatory service to be here. \nStanding on the brink of chaos. \nTo me, there is no greater honor. \nI still think so as I stare across the empty pavilion, poised behind half a blue house, and all that was coming. Could be coming. The Northern guards abandoned their posts an hour ago. \nNo, I didn't crack a smile as they did. \nThat's not what it means to be ROK-Ready. \nStill, we expect artillery shells at worst. Seoul stands 120 miles from Pyongyang. If they wanted to bomb our capital, they would have done so an hour ago. I'd still be here either way. No amount of studying, discipline or Taekwondo training would have stopped a shot to my face, but I think--- no, believe the Northern Army understands the retaliation of cross border hostilities. More so now than ever before. \nThis same respect was held for Seoul, apparently. \nWhat wrath would have lit the day on fire if the North had done so? For now, I cannot see it. \nNo booms behind me. \nNo armies ahead of me. \nEven now, General Scaparrotti of the Combined Forces Command was mobilizing the garrisons. This included all 28,500 American soldiers currently stationed across Busan, Osan... the Yongsan garrison was only 40 minutes away. \nWhat a force they would be. And we would join them. \nWho knows when the first assault begins? \nThe Northern guards didn't know. \nThey no longer stand in the back of Panmunjon. \nI didn't know. \nI remain here, ROK-Ready. \nSoon, we will be ready to march across this line I stand behind. The Demilitarized Zone no longer. \nNo orders came to relieve our posts yet. Had there been any sign of hostility, we'd have been ready to take our emergency posts. But the sudden logistics of organizing an army for war was unexpected, even to the station commander. \nI will be ordered to leave soon. \nFor now, I remain here with pride. \nStill. \nSilent. \nReady. \nWhen we're done, there won't be any need for guards on this border anymore. \nI will be one of the last who stood here when the war began. ", "One second ago my friend yelled at me that the armistice agreement was just dissolved by the United States. Now I am on a cloud sitting in front of a big desk, behind that desk is an old man with the name tag Saint Peter. He looks at me and says you are the first of many welcome to heaven. To his right I see a glorious bald eagle spirit sing you will be avenged. \n\nI think to myself huh all those artillery canons that the North has pointed at the DMZ and Seoul really do work. I hope them Americans Bring Freedom to North Korea. the end. \n\nEdit: added my rationale\nFor an explanation of my story. We are still at war with North Korea only an armistace agreement was signed not a peace treaty. Any soldier currently standing on the DMZ would be canon fodder for all of the artillary that the North has pointed at the DMZ. Granted the North would lose but a whole lot of shells would land on us first.\n\nI am not an expert, I was in the army and in field artillery but never in NK all of my knowledge comes second hand from friends I had that were stationed in Korea during the 90s", "I'll take a stab. Keep in mind I have never been to South Korea and my knowledge of South Korean culture is mostly limited to the many great films that have come out of South Korea. \n\n----------------------------------\n\nKyung-min Nan stood in position at the DMZ. It had been just over an hour since the United States had declared war on North Korea. He supposed it was only a matter of time until one of the world superpowers got fed up enough with North Korea to do something about it. Even China in recent years appeared to be at their wit's end. \n\nOnly a matter of time, indeed.\n\nIn the short amount of time since the declaration of war, the DMZ had already seen dramatic changes from its day-to-day operations. Kyung-min Nan had manned his post at the DMZ for many years whenever he was ordered to do so, gazing across the small, proverbial valley at the North Korean soldiers opposite him, everyone silent, stoic, ready. His duties had become routine. For years he and his fellow soldiers would stand at their posts, staring, gazing, watching. It was tense, sure, but after so many uneventful years, one starts to forget the tension -- starts to forget the precarious and fragile nature of the DMZ itself. It is the dividing line between two opposed, polar opposite nations; the dividing line between ideologies; the dividing line between war and peace. Or at least, it was. Now it was just an abstract border.\n\nNow, there were no North Korean soldiers opposite him. Now, Kyung-min Nan stared at empty posts. A childlike part of him wanted to cross to the North Korean side of the DMZ just for the sake of doing so, perhaps to see what those North Korean soldiers saw for all those many years they stared at each other. \n\nProbably isn't any different, he thought. \n\nKyung-min Nan supposed he shouldn't be surprised that the North Korean posts had been abandoned. After decades of grandstanding and empty, naive threats by Kim Il Sung and his progeny, they were finally getting a first-hand experience of the capabilities of the world superpowers and just how far behind they were. \n\nFor decades -- ever since the Korean War, when Kyung-min Nan's own grandfather was still a young man -- South Korea had deferred to the United States military, and for good reason. Unlike North Korea, the South Koreans had personally witnessed the military might of the US and, more importantly, how their might had only grown exponentially year after year, outpacing everyone else on the planet -- at least as far as anyone could tell. South Korea had bought into the Western view of the world after World War 2 and in no other part of the planet were the differences between the ideologies of communism and capitalism more apparent. South Korea went on to prosper while North Korea quickly fell into debilitating, nationwide, unending poverty.\n\nEven now, the South Korean military was, to many extents, beholden to the approval of the US military. They could take no significant military action against North Korea without first consulting US military advisors. Kyung-min Nan supposed that some of his fellow Koreans may take issue with that fact, but he considered it a small price to pay for the backing of the strongest and most capable military force mankind had ever seen. \n\nKyung-min Nan often spent his uneventful days at the DMZ wondering if South Korea would have taken action against the North sooner if they were not so beholden to the US. Either scenario is just as likely as the other, he supposed, but at long last, the US had taken the initiative and made the decision many likely considered inevitable. \n\nIn the hours immediately following the declaration of war, more and more of his fellow South Korean soldiers joined him at the DMZ while the North Korean soldiers disappeared, retreating deeper into their own territory, likely to buckle down for the mainland battle.\n\nOnly, there wouldn't be a mainland battle. At least, not one as the North Koreans expected. Not one that any person would reasonably expect given how wars have been fought throughout human history.\n\nBut this was a new era of human history, with unprecedented technology, and one of the major players was the greatest military might human civilization had ever witnessed. North Korea had been a country stuck in the past for its entire existence, and they would soon discover just how far behind they were.\n\nOnly a few hours after the declaration of war, one of Kyung-min Nan's closest friends from their days at boot camp joined him at the DMZ. Jae-suk Dahn told him that he and several other soldiers saw the arrival of an enormous US fleet off the coast only a couple hours ago. Although he wore an uneasy smile and was clearly impressed by the sight, Kyung-min Nan could tell the sight of such a force made Jae-suk a little unnerved. The reality of their situation was beginning to set in. People will die. Loved ones will be lost. Innocents will be killed. Korea will never be the same. \n\nDays went by. Kyung-min Nan and his fellow soldiers continued manning their posts at the DMZ. \n\nWar feels a hell of a lot like my every day duties, he thought. \n\nThey had expected some shelling, or some sort of attempt at an ambush -- something. But nothing came. No gunshots, no bombs, nothing. \n\nThis is war?\n\nKyung-min Nan supposed it was foolish, in retrospect, to expect any direct, adverse action by the outmatched North Koreans. The US had positioned their naval fleet strategically along the Korean coasts and had already made quick work of the North Korean Navy. In what was essentially a matter of hours, North Korea was entirely landlocked. Their Navy was devastated almost instantly while the US Navy didn't suffer so much as a scratch on the paint of even their smallest ship.\n\nKyung-min Nan's uneventful days at his DMZ post were soon accompanied by the sound of roaring jet engines overhead. The US had deployed their state-of-the-art F-22's to establish air superiority. Unsurprisingly, air superiority was establish almost as soon as the US arrived. Hell, it was something South Korea could establish itself given how inferior North Korean aviation assets were. The US Navy had also deployed F-18 Super Hornets and F-35s along with other fighter-bombers to perform bombing runs on key North Korean military targets. In a matter of hours or days, the North Korean military had essentially been dismantled, and not a single South Korean or US soldier had even stepped foot across the DMZ. \n\nThe North Koreans were prepared for a mainland battle, but as Kyung-min Nan expected, they would never get a mainland battle. The US was quick to deploy drones to take out individual targets and infantry, as well as to supplement the bombing runs by their manned aircraft. The North Koreans had no feasible way to fight back. With each passing hour, they lost countless soldiers and military assets, yet they were powerless to retaliate. No enemy soldiers to shoot, no way to challenge air superiority or threaten enemy aircraft. \n\nJust over two weeks after the declaration of war, the order finally came down. Kyung-min Nan and many other soldiers were to venture out of the DMZ and into North Korean territory. \n\nFinally, Kyung-min thought. \n\nTruth be told, he wasn't sure what to think. Would they encounter resistance, or had North Korean morale been completely destroyed by the US and South Korean joint military strikes? Would they find soldiers wanting to surrender? Would they have to be concerned with soldiers posing as innocent civilians, only to turn it into an ambush? Had North Korea somehow been biding their time, waiting for the opportunity to play their hand? Kyung-min Nan let out a short chuckle at that last thought.\n\nWell, at least one of those scenarios almost certainly won't happen.\n\nAs the hours ticked away and turned into days during their march into North Korean territory, the reality of war's consequences revealed themselves piece by piece, sense by sense. First, it was the smell. Burning forests and buildings. Burnt bodies. Then it was the sound of distant explosions and aircraft overhead, with the occasional distant screams and yelling of people fleeing from some unseen carnage. Then came the sight of dead soldiers, bloody soil, the ruins of houses. Kyung-min Nan tried not to dwell on the dead civilians he saw along the way -- innocents merely caught in the middle.\n\nCollateral damage is inherent in war. You know that. Be strong.\n\nAs the sun began to set one day, however, Kyung-min and his squad came across a kneeling, lone North Korean soldier. His uniform was ripped and tattered, his body bloodied and burnt, large chunks of hair peppering his head. He did not appear to be armed. Kyung-min and the others drew their weapons and aimed them at the soldier, shouting orders that were likely incoherent to the North Korean.\n\nAs the North Korean looked up to gaze at them, Kyung-min saw the soldier was no older than he was. He saw in his eyes anger and hate, but also fear and desperation. Kyung-min couldn't shake the thought that the young man was only an enemy because he had the misfortune of being born on a different side of an arbitrary border. This soldier had seen more horrors in the last few days than most will likely see in their lifetimes -- even Kyung-min Nan.\n\nAs if ignoring their shouts, the soldier slowly began to get on his feet, his eyes somehow remaining locked with those of each South Korean soldier. The shouting became louder, the orders more forceful. The lone, beaten soldier remained silent, eventually turning his gaze only to Kyung-min Nan.\n\nKyung-min put his finger on the trigger, and in that moment, the world went silent. The Earth stopped turning. \n\nKorea would never be the same.\n\n", "The lamps are going out all over Asia, we shall not see them lit again in our life-time.\n\nHere, within sight of the DMZ, I look out into the dark that is the North as a river of fire and steel arcs over my head before gravity pulls it inexorably down into the homes and industries of ten million people. During the first world war they called it \"Drum Fire;\" it's a sound no one has heard in the century since - artillery fire so fast, so intense, and so concentrated that it sounds like a drum-roll. \n\nThe people of Seoul hear it now. The drums of this war will not fall silent until their cadence is drowned in blood.\n\n" ]	9
	[WP] A noir night in the life of jaded and sarcastic Mario, P.I.	[ "It's-a me, Mario, private-a investagator. Today-a's my 57th-a case this-a year. It's about-a Bowser again-a. My client-a is a dame-a named Toadette-a. She-a came in and asked about-a a man-a named Toad. I-a asked for-a payment in advance-a. She hestitated, but then-a gave me 2 mushrooms and a Starman-a. I pulled down-a my lucky red cap-a. Me-a and this cap-a, we've been-a through a lot-a together. \"What-a does he look-a like?\" I ask.\nShe-a paused to think-a. \"He has a red-and-white spotted cap, and he's wearing a vest,\" she-a says.\n\"Where-a was he-a seen-a last?\" I inquire-a.\n\"Near World 1-5, just near the flag,\" she-a responds.\n\"I'm-a on the case-a!\" I-a say enthusiastically-a. \"Let's-a-go!\"", "Another harsh night rolls by like a shell against the crumbling blocks of this Toadstool town. Another night of me waiting by the phone in the dark, collecting dust until she's in trouble again. Another night of the inevitable creeping up and knocking on my single room office, begging for my services until I free her again. Roll credits. Hit the reset.\n\n\n\"Mario, plumber to P.I.\" That's how the business card reads, and it raises a lot of eyebrows. Hell, sometimes it does for me too. There isn't much time for fixing faucets when she has you fighting foes, hired hands hounding your path until the big boss loosens his grip on his Peachy boomerang. I wish I could say the coin calls to me, but I've never needed the money. Curiosity seems to pull me back in each time, and the transfer to investigation was only natural.\n\nMy brother tried to get me to stop my pursuit long ago. It's a vicious cycle, and he's lost his patience too many times to count. He's become background noise in my life. I blame her for it. The questions, though, still flood my head: \n\n\"Why does she get into these messes time and time again?\"\n\n\"Does she want to be a captive?\"\n\n\"Why reach out to me if she does?\"\n\nMaybe she wants to be subjugated by the King Koopa. Even more so, maybe she just loves my pursuit of her. Watch the mustachioed man race to her cage and desert him at the first sign of resolution between them. It's a sickness, but damn if it has twisted my heart and made it numb. She seems so genuine in her cries of desperation, but it can't be a coincidence how easily she's taken by a group of uncoordinated goons under Bowser's rule.\n\nThe phone rings. After a second of watching it vibrate, I pick up the receiver.\n\n\"It's-a-me, Mario.\"\n\n\"Mario, please come to the castle. I have baked a cake for you. Yours truly.\"\n\nShe hangs up.\n\nAs I put the receiver down, I think back on all the adventures, close calls, defeats, wrong castles, and friends I've sacrificed along the way. It's come to the net sum of zero. Such a meaningless pursuit. Maybe I should just leave her, just say I'm tired of the game.\n\nBut I'm not. It's my purpose, it seems, like I'm not in control of myself. I know I'll run the race, bop the baddies, recharge my legs with mighty mushrooms, and get the girl, no matter how brief it is. I adjust the straps of the overalls. My boots are tightened. I walk to the hat rack and grab my lucky red cap. The tattered gloves slide over my fingers. The mustache is ready.\n\nLet's-a-go.\n" ]	2
	[WP] This year's senior prank: Overthrow the government.	[ "The front line. \nWas it her place?\nFor so long she had been conditioned in a society, to say women couldn't fight in wars. \nYet here she was, at the head of the cavalry. \n\nHer name was Mrs. Tween and she had an army of 40 strong at her back, armed to the cane and mounted on mighty mechanical wheelchair steeds. \n\nShe tried to shout but her voice box wasn't what it was 70 years ago and and you could hear was a little squeak saying \"Charge\" \n\nThey accelerated, full speed towards parliament, through the doors and up the ramps. \"Two tangos one o' clock!\" Shouted Greg. \nMrs. Tween looked up and saw the two security guards ahead, this is where they were at an advantage, the guards were too baffled to know what to do.\n\"Leave this to me\" The cold, bloodylusty, throat cancer voice of Linda, came from behind Mrs. Tween and before she could say anything Linda accelerated on her modified scooter and shot past her, driving full speed at almost 10km a hour towards two petrified guards. In a swift moment, Linda held out two knitting needles, impaling them through the chest.\n\n\"Oh my goodness!\" Exclaimed Greg \"What are you doing!?\" squeaked Mrs. Tween\nLinda looked up over them, past the two dead men on the floor.\n\"I thought we were overthrowing the government?\"\n\nA chubby bald headed man, with horn rimmed glasses and a can of beer sitting on his purple scooter started chucking, everybody turned their head to see what was so funny... it was Rupet, her husband happily chuckling away \"Okay okay, you got me, it was me, I told her we were here to overthrow the government\" \nThere was a chorus of sighs from the attacking force. \n\nMrs. Tween raised an eyebrow, \"Linda we're here to ask for higher pensions\"\n\nLinda just stared at them, mouth wide open, she looked down at the bodies... then then back up to them... and then back down to the bodies... and then looked back up to them.\n\n\"Well fat fucking chance we're getting higher pensions now\" Chuckled Rupet, before be broke out into uncontrollable chubby laughter.", "So this was it. I, the president of the United States, was completely surrounded. \n\nI didn't know how it could have possibly been done. A group of people, dressed all in black with bandanas over their mouths, had managed to infiltrate the white house. And they all looked far younger than anyone who worked here.\n\nThe leader of the group approached me. \"Surprised how easily we got in here?\" He jeered, his eyes unblinking and merciless as he kept his gun pointed at my chest. \nI stared back at him, refusing to show fear despite there being no reason to hide it at this point. \"How did you get past the security? The guards?\" I spat, demanding to know how this was even possible.\n\n\"Let's just say our tech team took out your pitiful technology,\" the leader replied, \"and as for the guards... They weren't a problem. Especially now that they're dead. Same goes for your colleagues that tried to fight back.\" he had a proud glint in his eye. These people, they did not contain any regard for human life whatsoever. It sickened me to the core.\n\n\"Anyway, now it's time to pay up,\" the leader said, and the entire crowd around me stiffened, as if they expected me to try and fight them at any second. \"Either you go down quietly, or the only remnants of you will be your horribly painted portrait in the hallway.\" \n\n\"I don't negotiate with terrorists,\" I said, unmoving. I was determined to keep my dignity, even to the death.\n\"I thought you'd be stubborn,\" the leader chuckled, \"So we have a proposition for you. We've planted bombs all around Washington, D.C. If you choose to die like a so-called hero, we'll detonate them all, killing an innumerable amount of people.\"\n\nSo this was it. They wanted the satisfaction of me handing over literally the entire country to them. I wasn't ready to call their bluff, either. That was a risk I wouldn't even think of taking. Not when lives are at stake.\n\n\"Very well.\" I said, trying to keep my composure. The United States is now yours.\"\nProudly, the entire band looked at each other with glee. Their sick, sick dream had finally been realised. The leader looked happiest of all. \"You know, I've got only one thing to say to you, old man.\" he said.\n\"And what's that?\" I asked, desperately controlling myself from launching onto and beating down this spiteful creature.\n\n\"YOU JUST GOT PRANKED, BRO!\" \nThe entire cohort pulled off their bandanas, revealing the grinning faces of senior high school students. They all exchanged many a high five as they cheered that their practical joke had been pulled off.\n\nI breathed a sigh of relief.\n\"You crazy kids and your pranks\" I chuckled, shaking my head.", " \"Are you sure Donnie's plan is going to work?\" Jeb asked nervously. \n\n\"I've looked over the plans myself, it will all be fine.\" Benny responded. \"Just because your father used to be in the office doesn't mean you have to be a puss about it all.\" \n\n\"Yeah Jeb don't be a puss\" Marco repeated. \n\n\"Look, if you're not okay with our side of the plan, go over to the other side with Romney and the other baseball jocks.\" Chris said. \n\n\"No, I want to be a part of this!\" Jeb cried. \"Would I have brought us some Dunkin' Donuts otherwise?\" \n\nFinally, Donnie spoke up. \"Jeb you are a hot mess. Everyone else on this platform is more qualified than you, and frankly-\" \n\n\"That's enough.\" said a familiar voice. \"We all have to work together if we're going to overthrow those stupid one percenters.\" \n\n\"As much as I hate to side with him, Donnie's plan is best if we are going to overthrow those elites on Wall Street.\"\n\n\"Yeah Bernie's right! We're going to have to come together to make America great again!\" Donnie shouted. \n\nThere was a murmur of agreements across the room. \n\n\"We need to get this one percent of the one percent of the one percent out of the office!\" More agreements from the crowd. \n\n\"This country cannot go on in this state!\"\n\n\"We need this to succeed!\"\n\n\"To make America great again!\"\n\nThe room exploded into applause. Then Jeb spoke up. \n\n\"But this is all a prank right?\"\n\nDonnie stared at Jeb.\n\n \"Jeb?\" \n\n\"Yes Donnie? \"\n\nDonnie puts on wicked shades.\n\n\"You're fired.\"\n\nJeb walks through the door in shame as the room spontaneously combusts while Bernie blows MLG air horns into the glorious fireball that consumes them all. \n\nAnd that fireball's name was\n\n\n\n\nJOHN CENA\n__________________________________________________________________________________________\n\nWow i'm tired. sorry for the shitfest.\n", "\"Ok, do we all know the plan? This is going to be extremely dangerous and we might not all make it out but if we want to go out on top and live on here at Capitol High as legends, it has to be done.\"\n\n\"Devin, you'll head off the security by creating a diversion with your firecrackers.\"\n\n\"Casey, once they've responded to the noise in the hallway, you'll set off the stink and smoke bombs to disorient and confuse them.\"\n\n\"That's where you come in, Grace. You have the in since you've been working closely with the VPs assistants this last year. You'll slip one of them an urgent message from a family member of the VP requesting his immediate departure. With he and his security removed, there will be one last line of defense between Jack and the President.\"\n\n\"And that's when it happens. Jack rappels down from the rafters taking the President into a chokehold.\"\n\n\"Now, George, you're the key to all this working. We'll need you to slip in and take the stage as soon as Casey's done his job, at which point, you'll calm those on the floor and take the lead. \n\n\"What do I say? How do I address a crowd of that magnitude?\"\n\n\"Tell them: 'The Student Council is dead. Long live the King!'\"\n\n_____________________________________________________________________________________________\n\nThanks for reading \"Coup d'école\"! More of my work at /r/Socrates_Burrito. I welcome constructive criticism and advice." ]	4
	[WP] Your dog accidentally speaks English in front of you.	[ "Today was a hard day. 12 hours of sweat, blood, and tears. I lost one of my favorite patients today and it's hitting me harder than ever before. She was only 27 years old, exactly 2 years younger than me. I've never had a sister before, and I can honestly say that she was the closest thing to one for me. She once told me that we were soul sisters. Such a beautiful soul, a rare thing to witness these days.\n I'm sitting in my car, in front of my apartment watching the rain splash violently on the ground. After about 10 minutes, I finally pull myself together. I hop out of my car, and walked slowly towards my apartment. My light blue scrubs are soaked now And I'm not even phased one bit. I see my best friend staring at me from the window. His white tail swings back and forth, increasing with speed with every step I take. I swing the door open and he greets me with the same excitement and love as he usually does. I pick up him like a child, all 15 pounds of him and gave him a big squeeze. I set him back down, walked to the kitchen and gave him a nice treat. \nI took a shower, put some pajamas on, and jumped on the couch. I stared at the ceiling and started to cry. The tears wouldn't stop flowing out, and my heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces. Bubba jumped on the couch and made his way next to me. I've always been so amazed how in tune he is with my emotions, he definitely knew I needed a hug. I wiped the tears from my face and picked him up and laid him on my stomach. I grabbed his face with both my hands and gave him a little peck on his little black nose. I stared at him, he lets out a sigh and says \"do you think you could put some food out for me?\". I immediately freaked out and jumped off the couch. \"Whh-what. Did. You. Just . Say??\" I screamed frantically. He stayed on the couch, silent. I'm thinking I've gone mental and just need to get some sleep, so I shake it off and walked to the kitchen. He follows me and I start laughing hysterically. \"Hey, dog! Do you think I'm fat?!\" Nothing. \"Hey, dog! What's 1 plus 1?\" Silence. I set his food down and walk towards the bedroom. I could have sworn that little bastard said \"phew, that was close\". I ignored it and went to bed. I swear I heard him speak. I swear I'm not crazy. I swear.", "I was sitting in my chair, lit only by the glow of my monitor. I heard a whimper off to the side.\n\n\"Hey buddy, just a minute, okay? I've just gotta finish this one quest.\"\n\nI squinted, trying to figure out where to go next before I could finish it. Another whimper.\n\n\"Dude, come on, just give me a second, then I can take you outside, okay? Seriously, I just want to finish this, then I can save, then we can go.\"\n\n\"No damn it, I want food, not walks! It's been hours!\"\n\nI nearly jumped out of my seat at the unfamiliar voice, spinning around at the door, fists raised. I must have looked ridiculous, still sitting. The world outside was dark. How long had I been playing? Also...\n\n...wait, what? I looked down at Maurice. \"Did you just...? No.\" But the look was all over his face. I've only ever seen him look this embarrassed when I caught him with one of my socks stuck on his snout. \"You totally just -\" my face squinched up \"- did you?\"\n\nI swear his eyes darted back and forth, then he said - he actually said \"No, uh... I mean... woof.\"\n\nI was flabbergasted. \"You just said that in English!\" I yelped. \"You didn't even bark, you just said woof!\"\n\n\"Yeah, uh... oh boy, this is awkward,\" said Maurice, looking to the side. \"Listen man, I didn't want you to find out about it like this.\"\n\n\"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'LIKE THIS,'\" I thundered. \"THIS IS A THING THAT OWNERS SHOULDN'T FIND OUT ABOUT THEIR DOGS AT ALL!\"\n\n\"I agree,\" Maurice shot back, \"and normally they don't! But... I mean, I haven't eaten, I'm hungry and loopy, I messed up!\"\n\n\"YOU MESSED UP? THIS IS A THING THAT ALL DOGS CAN DO?!\"\n\n\"Well, no, not like... you know, the really dumb ones. But some can. Also, can we talk about the word 'owner?' It really weirds me out.\"\n\nI pinched the bridge of my nose. \"Okay, okay, we can... whatever. We can figure that out. In the meantime, you've been able to understand everything I've said?\"\n\nMaurice looked at the ground. \"Ehhh... yeah. Listen man, I think you need to get over Helena. Like, I really think it'd be good for your health, get your mind on something else. Like butts or something.\"\n\nI smashed my face with my hands despondently. \"Oh my god oh my god you've been able to understand everything I've said this is worse than when I thought I hung up on my boss and didn't oh my god...\"\n\nMaurice's tail started to wag. \"Well, on the bright side, you've seen me pooping, and picked it up. Very vulnerable moment for me. We're even, as far as I'm concerned. Now... how about that food?\"", "“Getting old is tough, huh ol’ sport?” I said rubbing my dog underneath his chin. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to play more or find a girl for you.” Rupert for the first time in his life, appeared to have tears in his eyes. “Aw man Rupert don’t cry buddy, I’m sure the surgery is going to go well.” Rupert stayed on his slide and licked my hand softly. “I’ll be right there with you. It’s going to be okay.” There was a stillness and quietness to veterinarian’s patient room. For the amount of money you pay I’m surprised they just make your wait, even when you have an appointment. I was scared for Rupert, they are only removing a tumor, but the vet said it had an 80% success rate. I’m sure Rupert will fall in the 80%, and even though it’s not covered by insurance it is worth it for the chance to spend a few more years with Rupert. I got him almost a decade ago, when I graduated college and moved to Madison, WI. First months were rough, since I didn’t know anyone. But somehow, I knew I had a four legged friend waiting for me back at home. \n\nA dog started howling in a room next door, and Rupert sat up whimpering. I got down on the floor with him and gave him a big hug. “I love you buddy, everything is going to be okay.” Rupert sighed and said, “I love you too.” Immediately following, Rupert gave a sigh that he normally does when he gets into the toilet paper. I sat up and gave him a good look, “Did you just speak Rupert?” Rupert gave one of his whines, as if saying ‘What me?’ I gave him another intent look. Rupert sighed “Yes, I have picked up a few English words.” I jumped up with excitement “A few? This is amazing Rupert.” Rupert had tears in his eyes again “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” I gave him a pat on the head “I’m glad you did.” Rupert popped back up from his side, “You can’t tell anyone, it breaks the code.” Rupert laid back down “I’ve said too much, but just promise me you won’t tell okay?” I sighed and began to gently rub his belly. “You got it buddy.”\n\nJust then a technician popped her head in. “I’m sorry Dr. Stanley is running a bit late, he should be in 10 minutes. I’m sorry for your wait.” Just like she closed the door and went off to tell the other patients the doctor was running behind. “I’m sorry,” Rupert whispered. “I’m sorry I broke the code, I’m sorry I got sick, I’m sorry you had to pay for surgery, I’m sorry it’s half your savings, I’m sorry that I may not make it, I’m sorry I haven’t been a better dog…” I began petting him again. “Shhhh, shhh, you have nothing to apologize for. I owe you a lot, this is the least I can do for you.” Rupert got on all fours, and gave me a few licks on the cheek. The technician popped her head back in “Dr. Stanley will see you now.” \n" ]	3
Human heart has been replaced with constant flow turbine, cybernetics has enabled seamless control of robotic arms and limbs etc etc	[WP]World where people schedule a service with the mechanic, to service parts of their body	[ "\"Look, you were here. We checked all the basics like feeling response and reflexes. You even saw the connections looked clear when I opened up your arm. Unfortunately, it's not a simple problem. What year did you say your arm was again?\"\n\n\"It's an '05. I don't see what that has to do with anything though. All of my friends have '03 USRBAs and they haven't seen any issues and those are an even older model.\"\n\n\"Look, bud, US Robotics in '04 experimented with a new soldering method that was pretty unsuccessful. They never could quite get the carpel tunnel system to function properly. I hope it's not that, but I'd need to take a closer look because it's kinda expensive to fix. It's a relatively easy process though. Send out the wrist to the machinist to grind down the titanium a little and rerun the nerve fiber optics through the bone instead of around them. It'll fix your problem and your arm should feel like new. The USRBAs are good arms, US Robotics just could never figure out how to get the fingers to not cause pain through the wrist without a fortune.\"\n\n\"Thanks for the help. Maybe I'll come back tomorrow.\"\n\n\"I can do the work here. You could go to the dealer, but they'll just replace the problem with their own part which can't be a long term solution and it'll cost even more.\"\n\nSure, whatever, I couldn't help myself from thinking on the way out of the shop. All these bio-monkeys were the same. Diagnosing what wasn't there and trying to make a quick buck.\"If only I had lived in the good days of the 50s, this wouldn't be a problem\" was all Diane could think of as he got into a hand stand to run home.\n", "Sat down to look at what was left, eyes lowered to the floor, subdued with lilac coloured tremors that fluttered through the pin wheels of his mind. The whisper of static as he pulled his shirt off, the imperceptible crackle as charge jumped across the smooth matt finish of his back. Clicks and whirs, he watched his hand rise slowly, finger limply pointing he stroked the thin white line that trickled down his sternum, two cents of flesh stretched between the adjoining plates of machined titanium. This is all that was left, this was his ammonite: the testament of his own, singular evolution. It reminded him of who he used to be, a sentimentality from before his deconstruction when life was raw and unfiltered, things like love and hate would rise and fall with alarming transience, but it was life, it was real. Now he will only feel at a time deemed suitable for him to feel, methodically regulated to ensure his maximum efficiency. Yet somehow this thin white line allowed him the faintest memory of what it's like to feel; running the sensor-lined pad that substituted for his finger tip through this particular groove created something within him that wasn't meant to be there, something they couldn't regulate, and as such this seemingly benign act was his own act of revolution: a revolution of colour and life and love. His lips twitched in a smile as he connected the electrodes he had prepared before him to the nape of his neck, and leaning forwards, his finger limply pointing, he flicked the switch." ]	2
	[WP] When the demon actually appeared, I knew it was a bad idea to tell him he was summoned just to see if it was true.	[ "They say the devil hums a tune when he walks. It loops around and around, rising higher and higher, reaching so close to the crescendo and loops back to a soft hum to rise again. It whistles through his teeth, swirls around his cheeks, comes out through his nose and many have made the deal only to hear him finish the tune.\n\nHe appears as you imagine him to be. Sometimes a rotund business man in a navy blue wool-blended suit, buttons bursting at the seams. A man dressed in black with a solid blood-red tie. Others as a crazy fool, jumping and hollering with a dirty face. To others he's well kempt and polite. Always a man though. Never a woman or child.\n\nHe lurks and prowls and approaches. Stories are told and his name changes. Nick, Scratch, John or James. Every man of fame and fortune has heard his name come across his lips, given him their mind, body, soul and blood. Once given, his children aren't to escape. A lineage taken, tampered, tainted by the will of the father.\n\nIf one was to summon him willfully, rather than him peering into windows and stalking his prey, if I could draw him to me, I could hear that wonderful tune. \n\nI took to researching the deals in how the others have met him, through black magic and random occurrence (The latter being much more common) but each person met was at wit's end. Seems the devil is to be drawn to misery. To those whose land did not produce enough fruit, to those in trying marriages eager to flee, those who felt the affect of the world beat down upon them but no force to beat back.\n\nQuickly, I dispersed the remaining funds in my account to activities that the Devil lurked. Dark corners of alleys. On powder, pills, casino's, and women. \n\nMy meeting with the Devil would be under my terms and intellect. I aimed to trick the trickster and as days and weeks went by, further reducing myself to be an appetizing treat for him. His mouth would water at the chance of such a soul and I would dare not agree to any deal or bargain that he may offer. My soul is my greatest gift, my legacy would be the one man who tricked the Devil.\n\nIt happened months after I set out on my goal, I awoke on a park bench to the rising sun. Dew evaporating across the blades of grass, the wind chilled the morning. I shivered quietly in my thin coat and straightened out my beard with my hand.\n\n\"Excuse me sir. Mind if I have a seat?\" \n\n\"As you wish.\" I said.\n\nThe man in a charcoal suit, slipped his hand into his inner pocket, pulled out a stainless case, tapping a cigarette out.\n\n\"Beautiful day. Isn't it?\" he breathed deeply. \"Smells like spring.\"\n\n\"I've seen better days.\"\n\n\"I know. Well, no need for formalities. I am the one you seek.\"\n\nI looked him up and down and for a moment I was tempted to laugh and question but there was a peculiar way he held his shoulders back, how the long drag of the cigarette lingered about him, the blue smoke swirling into his coat, which lay no doubt in my mind.\n\n\"You've certainly went through a lot of trouble to see me. I could have come long ago and truth be told, I wish I did. You seem to be a lesser man now. Hardly worth my time. Never let it be said that I am not sympathetic.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm glad to have found you but it is I who has the upper hand here, for there is not a thing I want from you. I want neither fame nor fortune or the desire of a beautiful girl. My name is self-made and it is I who lured you out. Broken and beaten though I am. I am the man who has summoned the Devil and left with his soul. No man before can claim that.\"\n\n\"Very well\" putting out his cigarette on a droplet of water \"Seems you have won...\"\n\nHe cackled as he walked away and there no was tune to be heard.\n\n\"Wait...\"\n", "\"...Azmorath Davartiir!\" A small gust of wind made the center candle flare as I finished the last phrase. I made a... weird satisfied noise and slammed the ancient book together as I quickly swivelled around to get the broom. But the candle flame kept growing. Eyes wide, I turned back and stared and the flame reaching towards the ceiling. As I stumbled over to grab the fire extinguisher, the flame turned a sort of... greenish... purple... The colours in our world just aren't enough to describe it.\n\nThe candles at the edges of the pentagram reacted similarly, except they reached toward the center flame, circling it and creating a helix of otherwordly flame. I realized I held the extinguisher in front of me asa if it's cold carbon dioxide could save from the deamons from the nether worlds.\n\nSuddenly the outer flames were sucked into the center, and in a flash they dissapeared. For a split second I was standing in darkness and confusion, clutching a tube of pressurised gas. Then the portal truly opened were the center flame had been, with enough force to throw me back and send the extinguisher flying across the floor. The flames had only been coloured by the nether, but this was made out of the stuff itself. It's vivid... colour illuminating the entire room.\n\nI let out a wheeze as I started breathing again, for what felt like the first time in my life. The portal's started to expand, it's edges creeping across the room. A shape resembling the frantic scribbles in the book started to form out of the glittering mass of Beyond. Two horns form, as did two arms and three legs. Or possibly two legs and a tail. Lastly its golden eyes crystallized and opened, the gaze... passing over my head. It seemed to realize this, and lowered the gaze to me on the floor. The extinguisher finally came to a rest next to one of the candles.\n\nI slowly rose from the floor. HAIL SUMMONER I fell back down to the floor as the voice boomed around the room. This time I was a bit quicker on my feet, patting my clothes to remove the dust from the attic floor. I raised my finger and opened my mouth. Several times. At last I could produce a feeble\n\n'hey...' GIVETH ME THY COMMAND The voice again startled me. I shifted uneasily, my hand om my hip, only general murmors and noises coming from my mouth.\n\nWHY DID THOU SUMMON ME That was the question wasn't it? It was started with me finding this ancient book in a local book store and ended with... this. Not much more to it. After a few tries I managed to motion towards that book that had taught me the ritual.\n\n'I found this here book...' THAT GIVETH THE HOW, NOT THE WHY\n\n'Well... There's not much more to it. I just kinda wanted... to see if it worked.' AND FOR THAT THOU RISK THY LIFE AND LIMB?\n\n'... Did I?' I can only compare the rush of air coming from the demon as a tired sigh.\n\n'Bye?..' The golden eyes fixed themselves on me and I retreated a step or two. HATH THOU- did ya read the rest? On how t'end this?\n\n'Yeah.' Did ya notice how the givin' of a task is, how shall I put it, fairly central? Look; it's actually impossible for me to leave without gettin' somefin' to do, so just ask for a buttload o' gold or what have ya. I shuffled over to where the book was lying on the floor, and slowly picked it up.\n\n'Yes but I just thought...', then I remembered something more, 'But I also noticed this note about not trusting the demon, and how everything it would give you would end up being the end of you.' Oh... well don't ya mind that, that's just... 'Written in blood.' Well it's just- 'Actual blood.'\n\nA strained silence filled every space in the confined attic. I went and retrieved the fire extinguisher, just to do something. Because trying to think of a solution to my... situation didn't seem possible. When I faced the demon once more, it seemed to have made up its mind about something.\n\nLook: I 'ardly get called anymore. Finally, for the first time in two hundred years, I get called and it's by... The demon seemed lost for words. ...you. I looked down at my second hand designer shoes. Do ya have any idea what two hundred years in the frickin' nether fire is like!? I thought of the university lectures, and in particular Mr. Gray.\n\n'I think I can imagine, yes. And you can't do anything else?' No! I'm completely powerless unless one of you calls and orders som'ink. The only thing I've got is to keep at the person doin' the wish, and do anyfin' vaguely related to that wish! Round about then, I had an idea.\n\n'But you can fulfill any wish, right?' Yeah... 'cept wishes for more wishes o'course.\n\n'Then I would wish you to stop behind a demon... nether... thing and become a normal person, if you so desire.' For a moment the demon considered this, then the indistinct mass gave the impression of the biggest smile I have ever seen.\n\n------------------\n\nIn the flat below mine lives Smiles Harkness, a nice old chap, together with the Bernese Mountain Dog Cuddles and the border collie Fuzzy. We spend most nights together playing board games (as long as they're not Ouija boards), once I'm done at the institute and Smiles have checked all of today's contracts at the bureau.\n\nAs we're usually not alone, and it's a bit bigger, we use my flat. At the end of the night the two of us say that Smiles, when going back down home, is \"returning to the nether world\". It's a little in-joke of ours.", "A knock on the door.\n\n\"Hey turn the music down. Turn it..down. TIM! The music\" \n\nThe music cuts. Its 3:15 am Saturday morning. You're in a room full of your friends. Tim, Bobby, Lisa, Kelly, Rick. You hate Rick, but he's there anyway. You've all managed to make it back to your apartment as a group from a long night out, which in itself is a miracle. You almost lost Lisa and Kelly to the food truck outside of McPatty's pub. \n\nA 2nd knock on the door.\n\nBobby chuckles \"Wait..the fuck. That's some timing..did any of you hit other people up to come late night?\"\n\nBobby takes inventory from the group, everyone responds.\n\n\"Nope\"\n\n\"Nah dude\"\n\nLisa, \"What? I want pizza.\"\n\nHuh. Strange. You get up to answer the door. It is your apartment after all. \n\nYou stagger over to the peephole, making your way through the wafted smoke that still lingers from the \"medicinal\" plants that Rick brought with him. You still hate Rick but he gets good weed. Eh, he's really not that bad.\n\nYou look. It's a young guy, maybe 29, 30 years old. Looks like he managed to have an even better night than you did. He's leaning with one arm against the door, holding on for dear life. You open the door and he nearly falls in your arms, catching himself at the last moment.\n\n\"Woah man..can I help you?\"\n\nRick chirps \"Yeah what's this guy's deal?\"\n\nYou ignore Rick. He's always doing shit like this.\n\nThe young guy says \"Uh yeah, I'm looking for a Kevin. You guys summoned a demon? Look I'm pretty smashed right now...I wasn't expecting any work calls is it cool if I just come in and we can do this in a little bit?\"\n\nYou're not sure what to say. He must have been listening outside the door for a few minutes when Rick first started talking about it. Fucking Rick.\n\nYou laugh nervously. \"Look pal, that's funny but you should go home. Its kind of weird you were listening to our conversation..that whole demon thing was a complete joke. You know someone that lives in the building? You need help getting to their apartment?\"\n\nHe stares at you-almost..through you. In spite of yourself you get the chills.\n\nLisa suddenly notices the stranger that's been standing in your doorway for the last minute. \n\n\"Is that the pizza guy??\"\n\nBAM. A 16 inch Cheese pizza pops into existence on your living room table. \n\n\"WHAT THE FUCK\"\n\n\"Woah dude this weed is wayy too good\"\n\nLisa \"Yaaaayyy! I love pizza..how did this get here?\"\n\nShe dives right in and grabs a slice, completely nonplussed. \n\nYou, on the other hand, feel like you are going to throw up. And it has nothing to do with the 6 shots of Fireball Tim forced down your throat a few hours earlier. \n\nYou're frozen-scared, confused. The demon walks right past you and sits down next to Kelly on the couch. Right where you were sitting. He's an attractive guy now that you take notice. Kelly takes notice too. \n\nYou think to yourself \"what the fuck is happening.\"\n\nThe demon introduces himself to the group as Dante. Everyone is completely silent, except Lisa.\n\n\"Oh my God, this pizza is so good!\"\n\nDante settles into the couch. He looks comfortable, and not nearly as drunk as he was a minute ago. \n\nFinally Tim has the courage to say something.\n\n\"So..uh..you're a...demon, huh? That pizza shit was some like, magic or whatever?\"\n\nDante says nothing, he just turns his head in Tim's direction and takes a sniff of the air.\n\nBAM. An ounce of the stinkiest weed you've ever smelt manifests itself on your table right next to the pizza.\n\nOK, you say to yourself. This guy is not what I was expecting. \n\nTim and Rick are all about it.\n\n\"I LIKE this guy. Let's fire it up eh? What else ya got, how about some beers?\"\n\nBAM. A 24 case of ice cold Heinekens get thrown in the mix.\n\nYou, your friends and the demon proceed to party for the next 2 hours. Turns out, Dante is actually a really nice guy. Born and raised in Haites, he moved to Portland a few years ago for work. He happened to be in the area on some business earlier in the day decided to take our call because he needed the overtime for his kid's upcoming dental work.\n\n\"Can you believe how much that shit costs? 15k for a set of metal wires? What are they, made from artisinal iron ore?\"\n\nYou talk about everything. Its strange really. You and your friends have known each other for so long, its always been difficult to integrate any new people into your group. Not Dante. Dante fits in like he's been with you guys from day one. Turns out he's also a NY Rangers fan, just like you. He loves the new guys, JT Miller, Lindberg and fuckin hates Girardi, that worthless fuck. Just like you. Rick and Tim are both in finance. The two of them and Dante discuss forex futures for over an hour. Dante makes Lisa another pizza and she's thrilled. Kelly just sits there and bats her eyes when he talks. \n\nIt's now 5:45 am, and the sun is starting to rise. Dante notices and stands up.\n\n\"Look guys, I had a great time tonight but I've got an appointment at 12:30 today and I need to prepare.\"\n\n\"Alright man, what a night! We had a great time, hit us up next time you're in the area and we'll go out.\"\n\n\"Absolutely\" Dante says. \"But here's the deal. I've been here for over 2 hours and my boss is going to transfer me to the Des Moines, Iowa branch if I don't bring something, anything, back from our meeting.\"\n\nTim chimes in, \"Fair enough brother, happy to help you out. What do you need?\"\n\nDante grins devilishly. You start to feel nervous again.\n\n\"Its not a what. It's a who.\"\n\nThe room goes silent. The tension is palpable. Everyone is glued to their seat--even Lisa is paying attention.\n\n5 seconds goes by...10 seconds goes by...you get an idea. \n\n\"You can take Rick?\"\n\nBAM. Rick and Dante disappear. \n\nYou never saw Rick again but hey, he was an asshole. \n\n\n\n", "Black smoke rose out of the center of the pentagram. I’d seen enough of them on Supernatural to know how to draw one by heart. In case I actually managed to do it, I didn’t want to be the girl that died in the introduction. Always be prepared!\n\nThe body of a man appeared. He was dressed in a blue tailored suit, with smoke still rising from the collar of his shirt. I waited for his head to appear – it didn’t. His shoulders moved as he looked around the room, and down at the pentagram. \n\n“Ah!” he said, dug around in his pocket and retrieved a pen. “This is some fine work. One of the strongest I’ve seen.” \n\n“Uhm,” I gathered my words. “Thank you.” Linda Blake put me up to the crap, and I fell for it. Never in a million years did I expect to actually summon him. I didn’t even think past the spell and ingredients. Bird bones were tough ones to get.\n\nThe demon bent down. “Problem with these, and not the metal kind—\n\n“Hold on,” I said and held up my phone. “I need proof.” Holding my phone up to get him in the frame, I noticed that only the pentagram was showing. I looked up, heart fluttering. He was still inside. I exhaled a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. \n\n“What do you want?” he asked. “I see you’re new to this so I’ll explain how it works. Fame, fortune, dead enemy, or whatever else you want.” He looked at the walls of my sister’s bedroom and shook his head. “A meeting with a boyband. All for the cost of one soul. A retraction of a summoning ends in immediate death and the confiscation of a soul.”\n\n“Wait what?” Confiscation of a soul? “And the room’s not mine.” I was actually embarrassed in front of a demon. But wait! Apparently I wouldn’t be for long, since he was going to kill me. Silver linings! The only reason I painted it here was to get my parents to question her sanity and hopefully send her away to some catholic school. That was a reach. One I was willing to take. She burnt a giant hole in my sweater. \n\n“Yes. Your soul is a deposit.” \n\nI opened my mouth to protest. The demon held out a long twig like finger to silence me. “I could have made deals with three humans by now. You’re costing me business.”\n\n“No,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “Alright look, I’ll make you another deal. I’ll open the trap and set you free and we call it even.”\n\n“Ah.” He nodded, the smoke floating up and down. “We go back to my previous point. Mental works best.”\n\n“What?” I frowned, watching him as he bent down.\n\nHe took the pen and scratched the circle of the pentagram. I walked backward, until my back reached the wall. Shit!\n\nThe demon stepped out. “I can’t cross, but earthly objects can. Always be prepared, I say.” He winked.\n\nI watched him wide eyed. A thoughtful demon. That was my fate. I imagined myself, eternally crawling through the houses of the desperate and stealing their souls. “What else can I do?” My lip quivered. “Oh God! Oh God. Please don’t take my soul.”\n\nHe walked up to me. My trembling fingers knocked against the wall. The pen spun between his fingers. He lifted it up to my nose, tapped it once, and said. “Don’t call me again, ‘kay?”\n\n“Okay.”\n\nWith a theatrical explosion of smoke, and the sound of rumbling thunder, the demon was gone.\n" ]	4
	[WP] Write a story with the most chilling, terrifying villain you can imagine.	[ "The most chilling villain is one who has lost all humanity. This is the person who was once good, but has chosen to abandon that goodness in pursuit of some great and terrible beauty. Money, power, fame, women, drugs. They lose their remorse because they are so used to shutting themselves off, because they know that in order to achieve greatness beyond compare, they must abandon humanity. It's men who act civilized, but are really the most animal of us all; they turn themselves to some form of intellectual savagery, for the sake of nothing more than etching their legacy. From a distance, such a person doesn't seem like a villain; but when they approach you, when their intent to destroy comes face to face with you, you will lock up, you will fight for every step away from them, you will find yourself so weak in their presence, much the same way that a deer finds himself immovable in the headlights of a moving car, or the way a possum plays dead in the hopes that the bear will go away. When you meet such a person, and one day you will, then you will have met your villain.", "She never left your side, not once. She held you through the ups and downs, the punches and kisses, the game winning goal and broken bones. It’s hard to imagine life without her, but then again, would it really be life if she left. \n\nShe kept pace wherever you went. Between heartbeats and heartbreak, she was your constant, never faltering and never fading. Every day you held her in your hand, and her hands were on yours; she was your everything. \n\nBut sometimes you would neglect her, forget just for a moment and life would pass by. You would hear her name in a song or see her in a picture, and suddenly that moment would last a lifetime, filled with images of your childhood, your first crush, your last hellos and the ones that never said had a chance to say goodbye.\n\nAnd that is when it hits. You were nothing to her; a mere drop in an endless stream. All these years together, but for what? If you died today, would she care? Would she keep marching on, unyielding to the whims of man? A lifetime of love, of memories and friendship, of embarrassment and triumph, yet a lifetime so short and insincere. She had given you so much, only to rip it away at the last moment.\n\nSo, as you lay on your final bed, you will look back on Time, your Time, not with admiration or hatred, but with regret, like every man before you. \n" ]	2
	[WP] During your morning bus ride, the person next to you dies.	[ "An exasperated expletive leapt from Preston's sleep fuzzed mouth, momentarily cutting through the dulcet oohs, aahhhs, and pleas of \"Is it too late now to say sorry\" blasting out of a phone drunkenly deposited beneath the bed last night. Aimlessly groping for the device it dawned on Preston that he was late for his work-study shift at the library. Late for the third time that semester. After a three-year boycott the local Thursday night cover band had regained its awful charm for the second-semester senior and his friends. A wild-eyed desperation to squeeze every drop out of their liquor filled education had captured Preston. He didn't particularly care about his job but he had fought hard for the languid Friday morning shift whose sparse responsibilities allowed him to tool around on the internet and catch up with his readings. Well, that was before he had embarked on this particularly vicious binge, he should have known that second semester senior year was no time for an early Friday shift. Preston's mind jumped between self-admonishment for his scheduling stupidity, the slim chance of verbal reprimand by his bespectacled and hushed sexagenarian boss, and the bus schedule. He hopped out of bed, grabbed the jeans from last night, and searched his closet for a clean button down. Quickly clothed he ran through the list: wallet, keys, phone... shit. He jumped down onto his hands and knees following the the manicured wails of Justin Bieber to just underneath his bed. Okay. He stepped out of his room and bound down the stairs of his two story clapboard New England house. His bus would arrive in five minutes and it was usually a six minute walk to the stop, he quickened his pace. It was cold out and he immediately regretted not bringing a sweater but it was too late to turn back. Hurriedly, he looked down at his phone and calculated his bus' arrival: one minute. He was only a block away from the stop. Weezing, Preston furiously power walked his aching body to the stop. A hydraulic gasp, a gust of warm air, and the swipe of a card later he thudded onto the hard plastic of the first available seat. Sweeping his unwashed hair off his face Preston looked down towards the rest of the bus and was struck with a peculiar feeling...nobody was sitting or standing within a five seat radius of him and hushed murmurs filled the air. Suddenly his nostrils were hit with the stale stench of urine and unwashed humanity...he looked around frantically, scared that he had just sat in a pile of vomit or worse. Nothing, until he looked down at his feet. Directly underneath his row was a crumpled dark mass, laying perfectly still. Preston shot up out of his chair. \"Holy sht!\" Preston yelped, as a waves of shock, embarrassment, and fear crashed over him. The guy was fcking dead. There was no question. \"DRIVER!\" he yelled, suddenly taking initiative borne from being the only one stupid enough to sit directly on top of the dead man as the rest of the bus denizens all suddenly burst into action, hollering commands toward the driver. Preston tried to make his voice heard over the others but it didn't matter, the group had delivered the message ten times over and the bus was stopping. Scared to touch the man, but even more scared of looking like an a*hole, Preston quickly rolled the dark huddle of cloth out from underneath the seat, careful to tuck his hand into the sleeve of his shirt. \"Well damn,\" Preston thought, \"at least now I'll have a good excuse for being late to work.\" A wave of relief and self-satisfaction washed over him as he thought of the sympathetic pats on the back he had waiting for him when he told everyone this story. \"How could everyone else on the bus have acted so callously,\" he wondered, as two blood shot slits gazed up past Preston's feet and into infinity. And to think he only had to survive a few more months until what he was desperately trying to out-drink would inevitably catch up to him - black gowns and rows upon rows of gleaming parents. \n\n", "She always told me to call her Dorie, just Dorie. Sweetest old lady anyone ever met—she’d ask me about my little son Jake every day and if I was seeing any new “young numbers” after my divorce last year. I never had a grandma and formed a bond with her everyone else who rode the 7:15AM Red Line was jealous of. Or maybe they were just annoyed that we talked the whole hour it took for me to get to my dishwashing job. \nDorie had the voice of a screechy goblin from a Harry Potter movie but a heart of fresh-baked cookies—she also perpetually toted a cup of 7-11 coffee. But I noticed something odd this morning. \nNo cup of coffee—and she was asleep? I gently touched her shoulder right when I sat down next to her, left side, third row back. \n“Dorie, hey, you seem tired today? Are you OK?” I asked.\nNo response. The driver kicked the bus into gear and it shook forward. I guess she was tired today so I decided to let her lean on me this morning while she slept. \nHer shriveled mouth opened as her head lay at a right angle on my shoulder. But blood came out. I screamed and the bus shoved to a halt as Dorie hit the front seat. I had taken a CPR class last year when my son was born and my instincts took over—I straddled over her in the middle of the bus and began doing compressions as everyone watched in glazed terror. \nThe ambulance came in ten minutes. I carried her limp body like a bag of feathers and gave it to the EMTs. There was so much she gave to me and so much I forgot to give.\n", "Who was she? \n\nThat was a good question. The most obvious one, to be certain. I hadn't seen her long in life. Her face, content, wrinkled and calm, Sat with the eyes open. They looked on, focused on something far away. It was as if she was looking through the seat in front of her, something intangible. Who could tell now? This woman would never be able to reason anymore. She wouldn't bake any more bread, the kind I could smell on her, nor smoke another cigarette to leave a lingering choking sensation in everyone else's nostrils. \n\nWhere was she going? \n\nWho would miss her there. She had a small bag with her. Maybe a gift. Maybe a gift to an old friend, or to a grandchild. People who wouldn't see her again, who wouldn't taste the bread, who wouldn't smell the lingering smoke. People who would no doubt hear of the happening. That was the thing I couldn't get past. \n\nYou see in my line of work, asking questions only hinders the process. If you ask questions your will is not true. That is what makes my next question more important. It makes it the most dangerous. \n\nWho wanted her dead? Why?\n\nThe sweet old woman did not hardly notice when I stuck her leg with the small syringe. Maybe she had nerve damage from all her years. What could this woman have possibly done? By now I am thinking more thoughts, ones that make this more complex. How many stops will it be before they realize? I am close to regret now. I can feel it tugging on me as I get off the bus. \n\nI will think tonight of the bread and the smoke, of the bus, and of the little old lady who's last company was the man who took her life. Maybe I'll stop by the bakery. ", "\"Damnit,\" I thought as I stepped onto the Metro, \"this thing is packed.\" \n\nI tucked my briefcase under my arm and surveyed the area. Finally, my eyes fell upon a single seat open next to a seemingly nice old man with a cane. He smiled at me and nodded at the seat, to which I reluctantly took. \n\n\"How are ya today, my boy,\" he grinned, his tired eyes focused on me. \n\n\"Not to bad, sir. Just another day at the office as usual.\" \n\nTruth be told, my day was shit. I had blown a huge account the prior week and my boss had just canned me. All I could think about was the wife and daughter I had to go home and tell. A small tear began to creep down my cheek as I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes. \n\n---------\n\nThe old man looked down at his shoes and up at the flickering light on the bus. He appeared silent as if he was knew exactly what happened to me today. \n\n\"Yknow, kid. You got the rest of your life ahead of you. You've got a beautiful daughter at home and a wife that loves you. You'll find a new job. Not only that, but a job you'll love.\" \n\nMy eyes opened and I jumped back into my seat nervously. \n\n\"H-how did you know all that?! You must be mistaking me for someone else, old man.\"\n\nHe smiled again and wiped his large glasses on a kerchief he pulled out of his pocket. Specks of red dotted the white canvas. \n\n\"I was a lot like you, son, young and dumb. You'll learn. Life teaches you a thing or two when you get to my age. Lost my first job when I was 14 and my second job when I was 20. My first wife and I had a beautiful boy, but I was a drunk. I pushed both of them away and we were separated for some time. Finally, I got the guts to get back on my feet and become a welder... And a damn good one! I quit the booze, quit the life I screwed up. My wife finally came back to me and my son, who was almost 15 at the time, came around to like me again. He's 45 now and I barely see him. My wife died 2 years back and I've missed her everyday since...\"\n\nHis voice drifted off as he continued to look at the flickering light of the metro. No one else seemed to hear any of what we were saying. A small tear then started to run down his wrinkled face, but the smile stayed. \n\n\"I'm sorry for your loss, sir...\" I said softly. My mind drifted to my own parents who I haven't seen in ages. Wasn't my dad turning 60 today? Shit. A bigger sense of sadness crept over as I began to realize I had been blind to what really matters for a while. \n\n\"Now you're starting to get it, son.\" The old man looked at me and smiled, sending a feeling of warmth over me. \n\n\"Mr. Libroski, it's time to go.\"\n\nA man in a white suit was standing in front of me and the old man. He was glaringly handsome, almost as if his face was glowing. His smile made all of my worries and sorrows subside. No one else seemed to care that a man with a white suit was blocking the entire aisle. \n\n\"Well, kid, it's been a good ride. I'll be seeing my wife in a moment or two. Maybe we'll meet again someday.\" The old man laughed as he worked his way out of the seat and grabbed his cane. He took the hand of the man in white and walked off the bus. \n\n------------\n\nMy head snapped up as the bus hit a bump. The old man next to me, who was slumped on my shoulder, doubled over and fell into the aisle. \n\n\"Mr. Libroski? Sir!\" I yelled as people began to wonder what the commotion was. \n\nI shook him to try and wake him up, but it was too late. The medics came and pronounced him dead at the scene, a stroke. As I looked over again at the body one last time, I could see a smile on his face as if he was in a peaceful slumber. \n\nAn officer came up to me and told me he had to ask me some questions. Once he was done, he asked me if I needed anything. \n\n\"Yes, sir,\" I smiled through tears, \"could I use your phone to call my father? It's his birthday today.\"", "It was a sunny, breezy monday. I was on my way to work, my usual commute on the bus. A young man, can’t have been more than 30 sat next to me. We did the natural awkward shuffling and exchanged curt nods. He had bright green eyes, but they were underscored by blotchy purple lines. He had clearly spent many nights awake, from one thing or another. Curious about this man who, by all appearances led a conventional life, clearly held something inside him, I inquired about his occupation. \n\nHe responded “I’m involved in import and export.” \n\nI assumed he would launch into an explanation about such an obviously cryptic comment. He did not. My provocations for more detail got me terse, monosyllabic responses. Catching the hint, I choose a different line of questioning in hopes of a conversation to relieve some of the tension that was now palpable around us.\n \n“So, do you have a girlfriend?” \n\nThis, at least, seemed to him to be worthy of a full sentence. “ Yes, her name is Roxy. She is the most wonderful thing in my life, nothing else has ever made me feel so relaxed and happy. But I haven’t seen her in a while’’ \n\nBy now, we had spent at least thirty minutes on the stiflingly hot bus, and I had removed my jacket. So his sweating was unsurprising, however as it fluctuated into strange chills, I asked him “Have you got the flu?” \n\n“I’m fine, I just miss Roxy.” he snapped. \n\nI was shocked by this anger: before now he had seemed a withdrawn introvert. At this point I stopped talking to him, sensing some instability, likely a result of his girlfriend not being with him lately. I would have changed seats, but the bus was its usual state, we were stuffed like anchovies in a tin, so I was stuck with my seat partner, as undesirable as that prospect was. By now he was hunched over, clutching his coat to him, obviously ill. \n\nI was distracted by some hip-hop blasting out of the headphones of a youthful looking man dressed casually “O-X-Y MORON!” \n\nAs I turned to ask the kid to turn down his music, a heavy weight fell on me from the side. I turned, and saw his pallid hands over his chest, writhing as if he were being tortured.\n\n “ Is anyone a doctor?!?” I exclaimed, as he slumped to the ground, all mirth having left his green eyes, leaving a dead moorish color. \n\nAfter what seemed simultaneously to be an infinity and a percentage of a second, a gray haired, no nonsense women came up to us, and felt for a pulse on the sprawled body that had a moment before seemed to be reasonably fine. \n\nA moment later, she stood, her eyes hard and sad, “Roxies claimed another.” \n\n“If this woman is known to you, and a killer, surely we can apprehend her?” I asked. \n\nShe grimaced at my naivety, “Roxy isn’t a who, it’s a what: Roxicodone is a dangerous and addictive opiate, and it’s leading to a rash of deaths in this city.” \n\nThe seductive siren Roxy had claimed another soul, and it seemed that that man would not be the last.\n\n(new at this, would love constructive criticism. thanks)", "The inside of the bus was ripe with the smell of sweat. \n\nI had to breathe through my scarf to prevent myself from gagging, even on a normal day. But today, instead of a mild mannered citizen sitting adjacent to me, it was a man who appeared to be mentally ill. He wore a faux leather bomber jacket, covered in grease stains and perforated with tears. His pants had torn open at the knees, and he wore only socks, which reeked of sour milk. Gross. He stared into my eyes, not with wonder or intrigue, but with the same expression one would bear after having just witnessed a car crash. His facial hair had warped into what appeared to be a Fu-Man-Chu, and he was missing all four of his front teeth. Oddest above all else, be wore a traffic cone atop his head. He was a short man, and it didn't appear to hinder his ability to use entranceways, much to my surprise. \n\nHe leaned over to me, and whispered in my ear;\n\n\"Hey kid.\"\n\nHis breath smelled like Cheetos and malt liquor. I tried not to move.\n\n\"Wanna see a magic trick?\"\n\nI wanted to scream. No.* I thought. I don't want to see a magic trick.\n\nHe reached into his jacket. My internal panic alarms were going off, full red alert. Time seemed to slow down, as the traffic wizard pulled a handgun out of his jacket. \n\nI tried to scream and only let out a cough, choking on my own spit, as he put the barrel of the gun in his mouth, and looked me straight in the eyes. \n\nHe pulled the trigger.\n\nSeveral things happened at once. The bark of the gun caused a steady whine to develop in my ears, the window of the bus cracked, fracturing into the reflective relief of a spiderweb, and was simultaneously painted a pleasant shade of crimson. \n\nThe bus screeched to a halt, and I stared into his glassy eyes, mentally screaming, but too shocked to express on my current internal musings. \n\nAnd somehow, even with the force of a 9mm round, the traffic cone managed to stay on his head.", "Ear buds were firmly planted in and I was thoroughly spaced out watching the blur of side walk, building, and Human. It was my favorite thing to do on my day off; plant myself on a bus and just watch the town. I watched as the scene was dotted with a few sparse vivid points of color but mostly the greys, navy’s, and blacks you associate with our down town area but it was a beautiful enough day.\n\nThere had been an old woman who had sat down next to me a few stops back she was knitting something in a deep hunter green and gumming or chewing on her lips. It was off putting but I was chewing a hole in my cheek so I decided to not pay too much attention to it. I sat and watched my frame of world from my safe seat while she fiddled with her yarn. \n\nThat’s when the too soft hand lightly touched mine. It sent chills through me. I took an earbud out;\n\n“Hmn?”\n\n“Be a dear would you?”\n\nShe motioned to the yarn ball that obviously escaped just moments earlier that was now warbling under my feet from the motion of the bus. As I reached down the bus began to brake for the next stop. The ball bounced on the floor radiator but I was able to catch it before it unraveled all the way to the front of the bus. \n\nThe yarn ball was neatly wrapped and had been lovingly made. I could recognize the care taken on the wrapping. My fiancé had loved knitting; she mentioned it was cathartic. To be honest I was just as cathartic for me to watch her. Everything she did was measured and delicate and I could get lost in the repetitive small motions she made. She would be in her favorite big blue chair sitting with her legs crossed in it next to the bay windows staring fixedly outside but not missing a stitch.\n\nI plucked some stray fuzz off and handed it back. \n\n“What are you making?”\n\n“Just a scarf. I’m just learning now. Imagine it; me, learning this now. When I was your age I just thought all old ladies just came with the knowledge of how to knit.”\n\n“Not so old” and she didn’t really look it. Now that I was paying attention to the world inside the bus she was clearly on the retirement cusp and couldn’t be more than 65 or 70. She was thin and tiny. A nice satin blouse clung with wisteria printed on it was draped across her and what she would no doubt call trousers. The wisteria blouse was elegant and made her look beautiful. \n\n“You’re kind to say that honey. You know, I hear those things are really bad for your hearing,” motioning to my earbuds, “but I suppose you don’t care. Everyone is plugging their ears up with those now anyhow.”\n\nIt was true a cursory glance told me most on the bus had headphones on or earbuds in at least one of their ears; even the one other person talking to their neighbor. Acutely and awkwardly aware of how rude my actions were I decided to put the other one back in. A beat or two passed and she shifted away from me but kept her seat and to her task.\n\nI turned my gaze back to the outside un-focusing my eyes and letting the world properly blur. \n\nMy play list ended and I check my phone to switch to something new. Glancing up the woman was still there. She was struggling. Her scarf was lumpy and it looked like she had dropped about a quarter of her stiches. \n\nI pulled my earbuds out. “You said a scarf?” I recognized the way that would sound. She just looked at me. “Here” I paused, “may I?” I motioned over to her needles.\n\nHer face had tightened quite visibly. I knew my rudeness was coloring her view. “Please, I may be able to help.” She handed me the scarf reluctantly. “Actually, do you have a second spool? I don’t want to mess up you place.”\n\nShe dug around in her too big bag and procured a ball of hideous white plastic yarn and plastic set of needles. I smiled simply. My fiancée always had multiple sets on her too she always said she never knew when she would want to work on something new. \n\nI tied off one end and began demonstrating the best I could. Before long we were stitching in tandem in quite concentration. \n\n“My fiancée loved to knit.” It was a simple thing I shared but it was a crack in my reality. The woman was staring at me too intently. I didn’t say anything else for the next few stops.\n\nThe bus was starting to get crowded for the lunch rush now and I could feel people sitting down and getting up repeatedly to my other side while the Wisteria woman and I focused on our stitches. After a while I felt the last one get up and no one replaced them.\n\n“Wisteria was her favorite flower.” I did not look up to see if she heard. She might not have even cared. Maybe she thought I was full of it due to it being too coincidental. It was true enough but strangers don’t care. \n\n“What’s your name honey?” Her voice dripped with sympathy. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to explode or cry. So I just turned my eyes back to my knitting and she followed suit. \n\nIt was getting late in the afternoon when it struck me as odd that she was still sitting with me knitting. I glanced from my scarf to hers it had definitely improved markedly but her hands were still. I assumed she was napping so my eyes flickered up to her face. She was resting quietly against the chair back. She was still beautiful. \n\nAt the next stop I got up and quietly told the driver. He asked everyone to get off the bus. I waited for the police to respond; I wanted to see she was taken care of she was human enough for me to care.\n\nThat was the last time I was able to enjoy my bus rides. \n", "You slumped to my shoulder and i shrugged,\n\nHalf-hearted.\n\nAnd i; too brittle and British in this weak Monday sun, \n\nBroke silence with a sigh, and accepted your gentle weight.\n\nAssuming sleep: No Fucks given.\n\n\n\n\nThis bus of ours....\n\nShuffles and idles on its bleak morning rounds\n\nand i doze in the traffic's warble; snoozing in its steady bass.\n\nYour old Nokia rang - Obsolete now. \n\nStarting me from sudden sleep -\n\nCracking its screen as it fell to the floor between my legs; \n\nYour hand resting open, and falling to my thigh.\n\n\n\n\nI picked up your blinking relic;\n\n'Home' - winking green - \n\nTurned to hand it back...\n\nSaw your grey mask.\n\nWondered why you stared so?\n\nAnswered your incoming...\n\n'Hello?!'", "Asher Vega.\n\nHis neighbors would comment on how he was a nice man, quiet and respectful, kept to himself and would always return a friendly smile.\n\nWithin 5 years of moving into the neighborhood he had established himself as a community leader.A small business owner who devoted most of his time to managing and running his bakery. Attending city meetings and even taking on additional responsibilities to keep his neighbourhood clean and safe.\n\nHe would be missed by everyone (especially by the older ladies). He would spend his free time jumping between businesses and restaurants rubbing elbows and making friends. He had made himself an asset to his community, firmly setting his roots and making himself comfortable.\n\nHave you ever met one of those \"beloved by all\" who always seem to good to be true? Well, this was one of those cats. Sure, he was known for being a real sweetheart, a champion among men and overall someone you would bring home to mama.\n\nHowever, they don't hire me to take out the \"nice guy\"\n\nThat's right, Mr.Vega, or as people in the trade knew him Hector Vismo. A real heavy-hitter in our world, as far as his accomplishments were concerned. By the age of 18 he had already killed 5 men simply out of curiosity, evaded arrest 4 times, robbed 3 banks and burned down 2 of his halfway homes and this was all before his professional career took off.\n\nA war criminal, mercenary, slaver, sadist and psychopath, he torched villages in Mozambique and traded children in Singapore. As far as humans go he was the worst around.\n\nHis cause of death would be chalked up as a heart attack, but those who know, know better.", "Two scoops into my cup of cornflakes and I taste blood. I don't know where it's coming from but I read somewhere that the iron is good for you. It goes down easy as I swallow. \n\n\"Mind passing me a tissue?\" A voice asks. \n\nI acknowledge it with a shake of my head. They only gave me one when I made the purchase, I'll be using it shortly.\n\nMy alien-eyeball looking ear plugs squish in like foam. I decide to play Justin Bieber, just loud enough that the girl behind me won't sing along. \n\nI catch a glimpse from my partner, the music seems to be working. \n\nThe final jerk is a satisfying one, and the old cobbler next to me has fallen asleep. \n\nI hop out, flinging tissue to dirt. As I pass the old fella and lean up to say hello, he's still out.\n\nPoor guy. \n\nThat's the problem with riding the bus. \n\nNobody gives a rat's ass if it's your stop or the next.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "I was so sick of riding of the bus, but I couldn't afford a car. There was always some kind of weirdo sitting next to you. That day was no different.\n\nA pale, sickly looking man fell asleep in the seat next to me. At least he wasn't lying against my shoulder or anything. It must have been some kind of record. The day before, it was a man with a nagging cough. The day before that it was a woman with a baby that just wouldn't stop crying. At least today's annoyance was quiet, but it didn't change the fact that there was a guy sleeping next to me.\n\nIt occurred to me that the man hadn't even moved since I sat down. I leaned toward him, listening for a breath, but all I got was silence.\n\n\"Somebody help!\" I yelled. \"This man isn't breathing!\"\n\nThe man's eyes shot open, his face contorted into a beastly mix of wrinkly scars. He let out a high-pitched hiss, exposing two razor-sharp fangs. Before I could even jump out of my seat, a fiery tingling sensation spread through my body as the man latched his teeth onto my neck. Everything went black.\n\nI woke up in a haze. My stomach screamed at me in pain; it felt like I hadn't eaten in years. At first, I thought I was still on the bus, but it smelled different. I peeked my eyes open to find I was sitting on a train. A woman sat down next to me and I closed my eyes.\n\n\"Somebody help!\" she yelled. \"This man isn't breathing!\"", "The windows of the bus that were usually only touched by the rain and the occasional passenger that leaned its head on it, were now completely covered in blood and bits of pieces of brains.\n\n\nI’d told the lady next to me good morning before sitting next to her, as there weren’t many free spots left and I’d rather sit next to someone I vaguely recognize than a shot-up druggie any day. She’d greeted me back, flashing her usual warm smile, the ones grandmothers give their dearest grandchildren.\n\n\nFor the first time, however, she asked me my name. Though I was a bit surprised, I told her.\n\n\n“Elliot is a nice name,” she said, more to herself than to me. “Heading to work? No car?” \n\n\nAnybody would be getting suspicious by now, but since I lived alone and rarely talked to my friends these days, I could use the company. \n\n\n“Yeah. Haven’t got a license. Bus isn’t so bad though, beats walking or biking.”\n\n\nShe hummed some sort of agreement and left it at that.\n\n\nI saw my stop coming up and started to get up, but she sat me back down, putting a firm hand on my shoulder. \n\n\n“Hold on just a second, dear, can you hold this for me for a minute?” She handed me a piece of paper. I figured it was a shopping list or something similar.\n\n\nI looked at the paper and inspected it. It looked ripped off of a blocnote in a haste. It was folded in half so I couldn’t read the text. \n\n\nI heard the lady tell me to take care of myself before everything in my right ear fell into a loud beep that made my head hurt.\n\n\nShocked, I turned my head to face her, only to notice there was no face to behold anymore, just a limp body covered in blood and pieces of brain and god-knows-what. The light from the window of the bus was blocked by a wall of thick blood splattered across the glass.\n\n\nI stumbled out of my seat, thoroughly shocked by the entire scene and disgusted by the still warm, mushy human remains on my shirt and lap.\n\n\nSomewhere far away, I heard a woman call 911, seeing as I was in no position to do anything at the moment, let alone call someone.\n\n\n-\nAfter having calmed down at the police station, I remembered the piece of paper I hadn’t let go of the entire time. In fact, I’d nearly crushed it in my fist.\n\n\nChecking to see if nobody was around (though I knew fully well there were security cameras around), I opened it and skimmed across it.\n\n\nIn neat, cursive writing, there was a phone number written across the paper. I didn’t recognize the country code, but the number was very long, at least 15 numbers. It was clear it was a phone number, though, as it was divided into parts of two letters, and there was a crude drawing of a phone beneath the number.\n\n\nI pulled out my phone and called it before I could change my mind. Though my rational mind it was a very stupid thing to do, an invasion of privacy even, the extremely bored part of me (which was about 80% of my entire being) just wanted anything exciting to happen. And it had just happen and it was about to continue.\n\n\nThere was static first, for about twenty seconds straight. Just when I considered hanging up, a series of beeps broke the static, followed by a voice that sounded just too real to be a robot, but wasn’t distinctly human either. A bit like those voices you hear on those weird number stations on the radio. They always creeped me out, and this voice did the exact same, leaving me in a cold sweat.\n\n\n“807, you have finally reached us?” the voice asked. I thought I recognized a hint of curiosity in her voice.\n\n\nI hesitated, but then figured it was best to play along. My voice was obviously male, though, so I’d only be able to fool the “person” on the other end if they really were a robot. I decided it wasn’t worth the shot. \n\n\n“Well, no. 807 has died today. I will continue for her.” Immediately after uttering those last words, I regretted it. I had no idea what I’d be getting myself into.\n\n\nIt was silent on the other end of the line, and I swallowed. If the police came in now, I was screwed.\n\n\n“As you wish,” the voice told me. “We will contact you shortly, 808.” The static returned and after thirty more seconds, the line went dead.\n\n\nI was rendered speechless. I had no time to think it through, though, since a police officer came into the room seconds later.\n\n\n“Call to your mom?” he asked, eyebrows raised. I nodded and he didn’t seem to question it.\n\n\nThe interrogation went as smooth as it could have, with me having no ties to the deceased at all and clearly just being an innocent bystander, unfortunate to have witnessed a suicide. He suggested therapy if it had left me extremely traumatized, but I told the officer that wouldn’t be necessary. \n\n\n“Alright then,” he sighed and stood up from his chair. He put a piece of paper in front of me on the table between us and handed me a pen. “I’ll need your name, phone number, and some other details.”\n\n\nI filled in all the blanks obediently and went on my way.\n\n\nI called in sick in the office and headed home, deciding to walk. I needed the fresh air, the coppery scent of blood still trapped in my nose.\n\n\nOn my way home, I bumped into a man in a suit who seemed to be in a hurry. He excused himself and kept walking before I could answer. I looked back a minute later and saw him staring at me. He turned his head when I met his gaze, though.\n\n\nI dismissed it and kept walking.\nTwenty minutes later, exhausted by the walk (I really needed to exercise more), I approached by apartment building, only to find my name taken off the list of tenants at the front door.\n\n\n“Huh?” I said to myself, before receiving a firm blow to the head and passing out.\n" ]	12
	[WP] "It's a nice day out, isn't it?"	[ "Thought I would continue a story I written a while back with one of the characters. You can see it here:\n\n[First Story](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3oyjjv/tt_a_man_is_slowly_walling_up_a_friend_of_his/cw1muee?context=3)\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nOutside the edge of town, in a wooded area, you could only see the backs of their head below the slope, were two men sitting beside a stream. One well dressed, business like and formal. The other, suited clean but like an old veteran. You could hear the water running and almost taste it in the air, the foliage is so green here. The red ran into the water like pouring wine into a glass. \n\n\"I didn't want it to turn out this way\" He knelt beside him, but his knee not touching the ground. He didn't want to dirty his suit, \"I don't know what is going to happen next.\"\n\n\"Yeah, well. This is with all things.\" The other man looked for a place to prop up himself upon, finally settling for a rotting tree.\n\n\"This place makes you crazy, I can tell you that much.\" He raises his arm into his pocket, fumbling for his cigarette case inside his jacket pocket. When he pulls it out, the click open reveals his last, he looks at his friend for a light.\n\n\"Yeah, come here.\" He places his gun down beside the tree, away from the well dressed man. The lighter was old and gold plated, he remembers his father gave it to him. When he lit his cigarette, they both let out a sigh of relief, but the well dressed man coughs for a bit. \"You should have quit long ago, I told you to before you got into politics.\" \n\n\"I tried, but have you ever wanted something so bad it's all you can think about, like a constant thirst?\" He stares into the water for a moment, watching run down the slope. \"It was in the way of my focus, so I thought 'why not embrace it and fix it when I am comfortable?' The thing was, I never really was comfortable even after we won the election. I thought about a lot of things; a brown man, running a white farming state, in the midwest, filled with mostly republicans. Who would have thought being endorsed by another brown guy, but a business man from an energy company would swing everything my way. What your group has done, it didn't bring a united people, it created a free market, more chaos and fucking speculation! Do you know what you've done? Robert! Look at me! Do you realize what is happening, we made history and the corruption will be noted in every fucking book!\" He begins to cough.\n\n\"It's a nice day out, isn't it?\" Robert looks upwards towards the clouds, he gaze wanders down towards the woods and can see the sun is an hour away from setting. \"It sure was, a nice day out. Sometimes, when you see a chance you have to take it. We've all had these moments, and most people don't actually act. Their mistake. Can I have a drag? You probably won't finish it.\" Robert looks at him, he's holding his chest, the blood seeping through his shirt, and his knee finally touches the mud. Their blood mingles into the water like a pair of dancers in a pool. \n\n\"Your going to die sooner or later, the bodies are piling up Robert.\" His lips were bloodied like a kiss from deep red lipstick. One arm curled into his chest and the other holding him up from the mud, he catches his balance for a moment and wipes his face with a sleeve. He turns towards Robert, and his face looked pitiful. \"I'm sorry, I'm fucking sorry about the girl. She cried for a little while, but her whimpering broke me, you realize how human you really are in the presence of death.\" Tears falling from his face.\n\n\"She liked lemon drops, you know? She left tiny little yellow marbles on almost every surface because she thought they deserve to exist, so she only took so much from them. You invited her choir to one of your events a couple of years ago. Everything would have ended amicably if you didn't come into my home. If you didn't go into my basement. If you didn't come looking into things that didn't concern you.\" Robert's arm began it's journey for the gun again.\n\n\"This made us monsters.\" He handed him the cigarette almost finished. \"I think it's better if some of us let go.\"\n\nRobert's hands full, gun and cigarette, places the butt in his mouth and empties his gun of the remaining ammo. He tosses the bullets into the stream and inhales. He looks at the gentleman in the suit. \n\n\"Senator Vincent Smith, the great brown hope of North Dakota, sitting beside me outside of a town in non-vital voting district. Your shorter in person, you know that?\" \n\nVincent's suit muddied from the stream on both arms and legs. He sits back, and looks at Robert for a moment. His face grew pale over the course of the conversation, the sun was setting. Vince reaches back for the cigarette, Robert passes it back. Vince stares into the sun for a while, takes a drag, shuttering on inhale and finally exhaling a few moments, he feels relief. Robert sees one last tear roll down his cheek.\n\n\"You're right! It was a really nice day out, wasn't it?\" Vince's body falls back into the grass, his hands on his chest, the cigarette butt fell into the mud beside his leg. His suit was dirty but still looked great.\n\n\"Fuck.\" Robert forces his own body back up, leg bleeding, he felt dizzy on his feet. He tries to walk away from the stream, back into the woods. \"I could probably find my truck, I think I can get it going. I know I can.\" \n\nHe tries to talk to himself for reassurance. As he gets further into the woods, the vertigo takes hold, and he slips away long enough to fall back to the ground. \n\nHe knows his fate and will bleed out here, \"It was a nice day out, baby,\" he mutters into the darkness." ]	1
	[WP]In super villain academy, prospective villains are allowed to conquer and rule a small rural county to prepare for world domination. 85% of students drop out during this class.	[ "(Part 1)\n\nThe rural countryside really was quite striking. Beautiful, rolling green hills, a sleepy little town, nestled in the comforting arms of a small valley. There was even a main street that ran through the center of the town. Kind of a cross between a Norman Rockwell painting and your typical small college town. Vermont, he thought to himself, stepping off the bus at the station. Definitely like upstate Vermont. He took a deep breath and savored the brisk, clear air. It was miles better than the constant smoke and smell of sulfur of the main campus of the Academy, he thought. Whatever mad genius who decided to build the academy under the site of a freaking active volcano should be dragged out in the middle of the street and shot. Preferably in front of his family and loved ones.\n\nThe young man straightened his black jacket and hefted his backpack on his shoulders. He had been traveling for several hours at that point, not under the best of conditions. First was the supersonic hydrofoil ride from the Academy dock to the airport. Then an 8 hour flight in the hold of a converted military transport plane, strapped in an uncomfortable seat to the cargo netting. Then an additional 4 hour bus ride to this sleepy little town. Stretching, he luxuriated in being able to reach out and not immediately touch another living being. He took another deep breath and exhaled loudly and audibly. Seriously. It was really nice here. He started walking down from the bus station towards the center of town.\n\nMinutes later, he found himself in front of a small coffee shop right off the main street. Sandwiched between some brownstone and brick buildings, the plate glass window facing the street showed into what looked to be a cozy sitting area. He could see the corner of a small stage, covered in white Christmas lights, and some mismatched tables and chairs. There were a couple of people sitting at the tables, drinking out of oversized and colorful mugs and teacups. As he made his way to the door, he could see flyers plastering the door and alcove. He stopped and looked at them curiously. Colorful sheets, advertising everything from open mic nights and poetry slams to support group information and piano lessons, all competing for his attention as a tapestry of small town activity. The door suddenly opened to the sound of a jingling bell, and a pair of young girls came out, laughing. He could smell an intoxicating blend of fresh coffee and pastries beckoning to him from inside as he made his way inside.\n\n\"How can I help you,\" asked the short-haired barista in front of him. He looked up at the large chalkboard above the counter, hand drawn and lettered in chalk. There was a large, copper espresso machine cheerfully burbling away next to them. A burst of steam hissed out, followed by the clanging of metal pitchers. The man stroked his chin in contemplation.\n\n\"Can I get a cappuccino?\" he asked finally. The barista smiled, nodded and immediately set to work. The man watched her as she worked. She was very efficient as she worked, no wasted movements. Each step, flowing into the next. \n\n\"What kind of milk?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, what?\"\n\n\"What kind of milk? For the cappuccino?\" she asked, pausing for the first time since she started the order. The young man started, embarrassed for holding her up. \n\n\"Ah, sorry. Whole milk is fine,\" he answered hastily.\n\n\"Nice. Living dangerously. I like it\" she cracked a smile. She immediately poured the milk into the pitcher and started cranking the knob on the antique machine to adjust the steam. The machine complained at first, but soon found it's voice and a creamy aroma filled the air, accompanied by the squeal steam escaping the small metal wand. The barista stared at the pitcher, her one hand on the knob, the other holding the pitcher by the handle, but with her fingertips just touching the base. Suddenly, without warning, she cranked the knob and the machine sputtered to a stop. Turning, she poured the pitcher into what looked like a large yellow teacup with a faded daisy on the side.\n\n\"Here you go. Enjoy,\" she said, and turned back to the machine, wiping it down. The young man stared at the top of the cup. There was an beautifully drawn leaf in the foam. He started to say something to the barista, but she had already moved down the counter on another errand. He carefully balanced the filled to the brim cup and made his way across the worn, wood floor to one of the tables in the window.\n\nSitting and enjoying his first sip of the smooth cappuccino, he pulled out his Academy assigned tablet and logged in. A large, crimson sigil blazed to life on the screen, then faded as he brought up his e-mail. There was a waiting message in his inbox. He clicked on the icon, and looked over the missive.\n\nAssignment: Prepare for World Domination.\n\nWelcome to Hamiltonia. This is your practical exam to see if you have absorbed and processed the information that we have provided for you during your training period and stay at the Academy. You have 364 days to conquer and rule this small, rural county. You may take whatever action you think is prudent, and will be provided with a budget for your expenses. Please remember to record and account for all receipts, and submit them to your Academy-assigned accounting specialist. At the end of the simulation period, all activities and machinations (even those already in process) will be halted and graded by a panel of evaluators. Be aware, you will be observed at all time during your stay. Part of your evaluation panel may also be inserted into the simulation at any time, so please plan accordingly.\n\nDuring your time in Hamiltonia you will be expected to show understanding of and utilize properly the techniques and methodologies that you have been instructed in. Additional points may be granted for creativity and effectiveness of your chosen strategies.\n\nPlease be aware that while total and complete annihilation of Hamiltonia is a valid option, we ask that you do not construct any devices capable of physically destroying the area. If you decide on using a \"doomsday option,\" please submit your plan for said device for review by the evaluation committee, but please instead use the provided encryption passkey attached to this e-mail on your tablet, and the simulation will be immediately halted and you will be graded at that point.\n\nGood luck. We look forward to seeing what you can do. Hail DoomCo.\n\nThe young man let out a slow breath. He stared at the e-mail on his tablet for a few minutes longer, reading it over again. The encryption key attached to the e-mail blinked cheerfully. He took a sip of his cooling cappuccino and brooded. He had always been good at brooding.\n\n\"So you're the latest, eh?\" chuckled an old man, sitting at another table. Another old man sitting at the same table snorted derisively, and turned the page of his newspaper, pointedly ignoring them. Both men were dressed in matching plaid shirts, one red, the other green. The man who had started talking first chuckled and waved a hand dismissively at the other.\n\n\"Don't mind him. So you're the latest one, eh? Come to 'subjugate' and 'conquer' us, eh?\" he asked.\n\nThe young man looked back warily. Was he being tested already? He tried to remember what his instructors had said about first contact with a possibly hostile enemy population. Never head straight along into conflict. Especially with a force of unknown strength. Infiltrate. Observe. Gather information.\n\n(end Part 1)", "BZZTTT \"Aaron the Undefeated? Jim from the City Council is here to see you.\"\n\"He isn't dead yet, Maggie?\" \"That's what he came to talk to you about.\" \"Send him in.\" Aaron eyed the shiny red button next to his laptop. It was connected to his computer via a USB cable and came with a plastic flip top. He sighed. Someday, after he had gotten his degree, he would have an actual red button attached to an actual doomsday weapon. For now this cheap thinkgeek trinket he got for his Secret Santa would have to do. His door open slowly as the silver hair man walked into the office. His right hand removed his white bucket hat and held it against a while polo and cargo shorts. \n\n\"Hey A-Man. How's it hanging?\"\n\"Why aren't you dead Jim?\"\n\"That's what I came to talk to you about. May I?\" He pointed his hat at the chair. \n\"Whatever.\"\n\n\"So, Aaron, you sent the Sheriff to assassinate me earlier. What's that all about?\"\n\n\"I want you dead.\"\n\n\"Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot. I could have been more neighborly when your henchmen imprisoned the mayor. Instead of asking who you thought you are, I could have welcomed you. And for your part, you could have not instituted Martial law. We were both in the wrong.\"\n\n\"Why. Aren't. You. Dead.\"\n\n\"Well, you sent Sheriff Kane. We've been friends since way back. He also hasn't seen his wife in a few days so he's got other things on his mind.\"\n\n\"The Sheriff disobeyed me? I will have him killed next.\"\n\n\"You can't do that.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"He's head of the police auxillary club here. If he dies his deputies won't follow you. And the council will have a fit.\"\n\n\"I will have to have the council killed next.\"\n\n\"By who? In this scenario you've got the only guys with guns pissed off at you. Besides, the council has to meet every week. It's in the charter.\"\n\n\"I don't care about your charter.\"\n\n\"Look, I know you're new here, and I don't know how they do things where you're from, but here we follow the rules and the rules say we need council meetings.\" \n\n\"They can run them from their cells.\"\n\n\"Not Beth.\"\n\n\"Who's Beth?\"\n\n\"She's on the council. Sciatica, bad back. Those hard cots would hurt.\"\n\n\"I don't care if she's in pain.\"\n\n\"Ohhh no. Beth is intimidating when she's healthy. Put her in constant pain and she will take your head clear off.\"\n\n\"What do you want, Jim?\"\n\n\"Other then not getting murdered?\"\n\nJim looked expectantly at Aaron for a time.\n\n\"Well, there's a little league game later. The Bobcat's are playing the Knights from Park Valley. We'd love for you to come by. We do a little pre-game bar-b-que.\"\n\n\"The only bar-b-que I want to attend with you people involves me with a flamethrower.\"\n\n\"My your a prickly one. Well look, no one's forcing you to come but it would mean a great deal to the kids so just think about it.\" Jim stood up and put his hand out to shake.\n\nAaron knocked it away.\n\n\"We'll make a neighbor of your yet. See you later chief.\"\n\nAaron slumped in his chair. The semester is just another 2 months and 27 days long.\n\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] After a mysterious string of disappearances at your workplace, you figure out that every single person who steps into a certain elevator vanishes before they reach their floor.	[ "Rumors most of the time to me where just that. Rumors.\n\n\"Oh! I heard that Jerry and Sarah are secretly going out! I hear they're planning to elope to Russia to get away from their jobs!\" \n\n\"I heard the boss use to be a biker in a big gang. I swear I saw a tattoo on her shoulder that looked like it could be gang related!\"\n\n\"How’s the baby doing?\" \"What are you talking about? I'm not pregnant.\"\n\n...I may have been slightly biased on my opinion of rumors. They were all based on simple speculation and stupidity. My employees were certainly a smart group do not get me wrong, its just they had a knack to entertain themselves at others expense. However, there was one \"Rumor\" not just in our office, but in our building, that I wholeheartedly believed in.\n\nThe rumor about the service elevator\n\nIt started off as a scare. One of our employees had disappeared from the public eye. Seemed odd especially since the police said they never found a body, but I assumed something was up with his life and after returning home he had just... driven off. What was I supposed to do? I had supplied phone numbers and other information to the police. What else could I do? I couldn't lose sleep over it. It’s not like I ever got any sleep in the first place.\n\nAfter that, no one disappeared for a while. For about a year in fact. We all forgot about it and had moved on. All we had lost was a intern. No big deal. \n\nThen the disappearances came back up again. And they became… More frequent. After about a week 3 people had already disappeared. The police had shut down the office building for investigation and to keep us all safe. However after the investigation was over, they had found nothing. The last person to see one of the victims was questioned, however all he was able to tell them was that he had seen the worker go down the service elevator since the normal one was under maintenance. The police took nothing of it, however I was not so naive.\n\nThe rumor began to spread. First it was just a joke at lunch time. However soon it because a widely believed phenomena all across the building. The families of the people who had been lost had even begun to bring flowers and other reminders and leave them outside the elevator. Every day as I walked past a new reminder of the missing people would appear. I normally ignored them, until notes from their children began to appear. \n\nI brought up the elevator to the police on their final check of the building. That maybe it had something to do with the disappearances. However after making a rudimentary check of the elevator for any place to hide a body and checking the service hatch, since there was only one person who had been related to the elevator, they ruled it out of the case.\n\nMy employees, despite believing in the rumor, were less than willing to help me investigate the occurrences. Many of them brushed me off even saying they were just that. Rumors not to be believed. Others who believed it urged me not to even enter the elevator. I found it hard to disagree with them. However I wasn’t going to just stand by as my employees were sucked into some void. This needed to be investigated.\n\nAt the end of the work day after waiting for everyone to leave to go home, I slowly made my way to the service elevator. Our building wasn’t very large in the first place, so I always wondered why we needed a service elevator in the first place. It looked old and rickety. It made me shocked that someone would even enter the thing instead of taking the stairs. \n\nPressing the button I waited for the doors to open. I could hear the old pulleys slowly pulling it up the elevator shaft as it made its way to my floor. Soon the doors opened and I was met with something that looked like it was out of the 1800’s. The walls of the elevator were made of a fence like walling that let you see the walls as it went down. The light flickered and sometimes even turned completely off before coming back on, and the entire thing was rusted from head to toe. \n\nGetting cold feet for a moment, I thought back to exactly how old our building was. It was a busy office building in the center of San Francisco. It was 4 stories high and to my knowledge was build in the late 1980’s. So what the hell was this elevator doing here?\n\nDeciding that maybe it wasn’t worth my life to find out, I let the elevator close before opening it up again. Insuring that the timer for the door to close would not expire while I was inside. I then set my mobile phone on the inside of it and turned on facetime, before running out as quickly as possible. \n\nI heard the elevator doors close behind me as a I rushed back to my office to answer the call that was currently being sent to my laptop. Quickly accepting it I was greeted by the sight of the elevator slowly descending to the bottom floor. Just as I had expected.\n\n“Well I guess it had nothing to do with that old elevator anyways.” I said to myself. About to turn off the camera and go retrieve my phone, I noticed movement on the floor. Was it… Opening?!\n\nIt was! The floor was slowly opening revealing the elevator shaft below! The gap was growing bigger and bigger. At the rate it was going, there would be nothing to hold onto and you would fall to your death!\n\nIt then hit me like a sack of bricks. That was exactly what happened. \n\n[Not my best work but I was bored and the thought came to my mind. I hope you all enjoyed it none the less. Lots of unexplained stuff in the story as well and it just feels rushed to me, but it seemed like a waste to just toss the story.]", "There's something wrong with the elevator in my office building.\n\nIn the past 12 weeks, 22 people have vanished without a trace, without explanation, without reason. The 22 unfortunates were of varying and diverse backgrounds, races, political views, and socioeconomic status. I work as a security guard at a large firm who's name is not important, based in a city who's name is not important. The only relevant information, is that everybody who is missing, has disappeared after entering a specific elevator. They will enter on their specific floor and never exit.\n\nThe elevator is not directly accessible through the main areas of the office. It's down a hallway and around a corner, not easily seen and out of the way enough so that not many people use it. The only times it's been used is when there's a line for the main elevators. 12 weeks ago, there wasn't an elevator there. I know this for a fact, although I can't prove it. 13 weeks ago, the hallway was a bare wall.\n\nI have seen 14 people enter the elevator, although there isn't any proof of that. I remember seeing it on the live feed from the security camera directly across from the hall. I remember that I recorded it with my phone the second time it happened. Then the third. Then I was sneaking in my old digital camera. Then I bought a new camera to record it. Then I was recording with all 3 cameras I owned and my phone. Each time somebody enters the elevator, they disappear from the recorded footage, as if they'd been edited out. All the recordings I took, no matter on what medium, VHS or digital, they disappear.\n\nThey've been reported missing, of course. Everybody in the office still remembers them. There was John, the kindly aging accountant. There was Walter, an African economist who emigrated about three years ago. There was Delilah, my wife of 10 years. The only thing is, I never married, Walter never got a visa, and John never existed. In fact, none of them existed. There isn't any documents, no records, no houses, no cars in the lot, nothing that would mark them as real except for our memory of them.\n\nAnybody who enters that elevator, never existed. I bought rat and sneaked it in during the night. I put it in the elevator, set it to got to ground floor, and nearly fell down 14 stories worth of stairs trying to beat the elevator. Where the elevator should be, there's a blank wall. I checked my bank accounts. There wasn't any record of purchasing the rat or the cage. I was simply missing $20. There wasn't a record of it, wasn't an explanation, wasn't anything to mark that the rat ever existed.\n\nI bought a camera that was able to stream to my phone. I put that in the elevator. I watched as the doors closed, as the elevator began to descend, as the feed ended as the elevator stopped. There was no record of buying the camera, just a missing $300.\n\nI've put an out of order sign in the hallway. I've told everybody I know about it. Nobody believes me, at least not fully. All they can see is the police not doing their jobs and a mentally ill security guard mourning for his wife. They knew my wife. They fucking knew my wife. They worked with her for half a decade and they can't accept that she's not real. They can't accept that she never existed. They don't know what I've seen.\n\nI'm going down tomorrow. I need to know if she's alive. And if she's dead I have nothing to live for.", "\"Come on Ben, just a couple floors, it'll be a quick ride.\" Cheryl nudged him with her elbow. \nI could tell he wasn't too keen on it.\n\"That's the elevator where everyone goes missing,\" I said.\n\"What do you know about that?\" Cheryl asked with a bit of mockery.\n\"Just what I read in the news. Same stuff as you. And I overheard some of the cops talking when they were here investigating last week,\" I replied.\nBen let out a sigh, \"ah fuck it, let's give it a go.\"\n\"No hold on,\" Cheryl interjected, \"I want to know what you heard.\" She was looking at me now with a bit more concern than before. \n\"Well, you know how five workers have gone missing?\" They nodded. \"Apparently this happened before, a couple decades ago, this same building.\"\nThere was silence. \n\"How many?\" Ben asked.\n\"Don't know. They think at least forty people before it stopped. They never figured it out, never found bodies either.\"\nBen let out a slow whistle. Cheryl paced back and forth. \nWe were alone on the floor. It had been cordoned off for two weeks when the first disappearance occurred. The elevator doors stood before us, two tired looking pieces of metal, the chrome surface dim and scratched from years of use. I pressed the button going up.\n\"Oh no. What'd you do that for?\" Ben pleaded.\n\"How about one of you take the stairs to floor 18, and wait for one of us to get off?\" I said.\nA quick but intense game of rock, paper, scissors ensued. It was decided. Ben would go up to floor 18, Cheryl would ride the elevator up, and I would wait here on floor 12. \nAs Ben got to the stairwell door, he turned to me and said, \"this is stupid. We will call you from the 18th floor.\" With that he took off.\nThe elevator arrived, sauntering in its pace, and waited a moment before opening its doors. It looked normal inside. \nCheryl got in, clicked 18, and looked at me.\n\"I better not go missing asshole.\" She let out a wry smile as the doors slid shut.\nI looked up at the number display. Each floor was counted off, no unexpected stops, and after close to thirty seconds, the display read 18. \nThis is it. Moment of truth.\nI held my phone in my hand, waiting for Ben's call.\nHis caller ID popped up on my screen and I answered right away.\n\"She's gone dude,\" Ben said. \n\"Stop fucking with me, put her on the phone.\" I replied.\n\"No, she is gone. The elevator was empty man. Are you sure it didn't stop on another floor?!\" Ben's voice was full of panic. \n\"No, it didn't. What do you we now?\" I asked.\n\"I'm riding back down to you,\" Ben said.\n\"Are you crazy? You'll go missing too.\"\n\"If I go missing, maybe I'll find Cheryl, and figure this out.\"\nThe phone disconnected. I looked back up at the number display. Sure enough it was counting down again. My heart thumped in my chest as each second passed. I began to feel dizzy from all the adrenaline.\nThe elevator lurched to a stop and the doors peeled open, revealing an emptiness inside. I dialed Ben's phone in a frantic haze of worry, only to hear ringing coming from the floor of the elevator, where Ben's cell phone was laying." ]	3
	[WP] Denver, Colorado is the last American city on earth. Everything past city limits is the enemy.	[ "We had just flew back into DEN on wednesday. Not a smooth flight, but nothing like that bothered me. You would already know, if you knew me for long enough, that the threat of death never phased me. I loved to confront death in fact, I am an adrenaline junkie in totality.\nThat's why I was coming back you see; Denver had what I lived for. I touched down at 10pm, and by 11pm we had made it to the club. It was cool but nice out in the southwestern state. Denver nightlife contained an animated and young crowd. College students mostly. Some a little younger than that. \nWe didn't sleep that night.\nWe left for highway 70 after our haze had subsided enough that we could follow a GPS to the nearby mountains. \nWe now believe it is the altitude keeping us and others safe. The people below us, everything below us we've been told, are infested. Some people are down in the lodge below where we were before. I decided we couldn't risk being anywhere but the highest elevation available.\nWe've been infested by ourselves, something has taken over billions of human bodies and mutated them. The bodies are decaying rapidly and growing fungus in sickening fashion. They're eating everything alive. \nIncluding each other.\nThe only news available to us now is the radio communication from ski patrol, the storms are picking up and the Snow had arrived. Normally this would be just my cup of tea. The risk of death is so immanent that my world falls into that deep surreal relativity. Not this time. This time I have a death wish, I want to die. I cannot imagine a better way to go than to burn out while blazing down the mountain cutting through the trees and rock like magma.\nI stand at the top, temperatures falling faster than night and I breathe. I look down and death looks back. I catch fire as the summit falls away and a steep backdrop of falling snow and rock replace it.\nI feel the shatter of bombs on mountains nearby shake the earth. The infestation may have never reached me. But I was infected by the opportunity. I descend into the foothills to face an army, but I am dead before they reach me.", "Fair warning: Didn't stick strictly to the prompt, but saw an opportunity to build on it and go from there. Hope you enjoy!\n__________________________________________\nYou know, it was always a stretch, that \"Mile High\" nickname. In reality, it was just a gimmick for a city, which in large part lay below that imaginary line. Of course, in recent times, the larger part of the population had relocated westward up the foothills of the Front Range, thus reaffirming the ill-conceived moniker. However ironic, this geographic maneuver was the only reason Denver survived, the last American city on Earth. \n\nSure, there were scattered settlements in the mountains above and an enclave or two down the range to the south, but no other settlement had the means that we did to protect what they had. In fact, since the fall of Colorado Springs and the subsequent stream of migrants to Denver, the next largest community outside city limits lay 400 miles to the southwest. Where the city of Albuquerque once stood was the largest of many air force bases, now known as South Denver, just over 20,000 in size, set up by the elder council of Denverites in an effort to patrol the skies.\n\nEver since the successful invasion of the States fifty years ago, that was all we had left. The skies, and a clearly defined portion at that. One mile high was the general rule of thumb, but it was probably closer to 5,350 feet than 5,280. Anything below was far from secure. \n\nYou see, as the invaders moved inland, the American government, decrepit naval strength captured, inferior ground forces in flight, made a last ditch effort to strengthen the Air Force. And it worked...to a degree. From the new capital, Kansas City, not but 50 miles from the front, the fighter jets, which they were able to develop with their remaining resources, took off. At first, the success in the sky was minimal, that is, until the government was overthrown, forcing the remaining military to retreat back to Denver and Salt Lake. Above the towering peaks of the Rockies and the high plains around, the newly coined Mountain West Air Force protected the skies. \n\nHunkering down on the ground, the military focused all of its efforts to the air, where modifications were made to ensure continued preeminence at elevations above 4000 feet. Although the goal proved to be too lofty, or rather too low, moderate success rates were had above 5000 feet. Salt Lake fell and with it the West. So too did Billings and with it the North. But in the East and South, Denver and Albuquerque stood strong. Everything above 5400 feet in control of the Denverites.\n\nSo, here we are now, a nation stuck up in the clouds. 5 million of us perched along the Eastern slopes of the Front Range, only the bravest, or most desperate, venturing into the constant war zone between 5000 to 5200 feet. Below that, everything belonged to the enemy.\n___________________________________________________\nThanks for reading \"Perched Along the Eastern Slopes\"! If you enjoyed it, subscribe or just stop by to read more of my regularly updated work at /r/Socrates_Burrito. I welcome constructive criticism and advice!" ]	2
Choose an illness: Agoraphobia OCD Bipolar Generalized Anxiety Disorder Social Anxiety Schizophrenia or choose your own or write without choosing or use more than one from above Inspired by /r/MentallyIllButGenius	[WP] Thousands of Nikola Tesla type geniuses exist right now around the world. The only problem, mental illness prevents them from publishing their works. You are one of them, with a world changing discovery, but your scared of the world (Choose the disorder inside)	[ "\"To be frank, I think there may be something wrong with your daughter.\"\n\nMrs Halifax blinked in surprise. She coughed a little, then shifted forward in her undersized plastic chair. \n\n\"Wrong? Like she's slow?\"\n\n\"Well, they wouldn't call it that these days... Tell me, does she speak much at home?\"\n\nShe paused. Libby was always chattering away at home, but truth be told not a lot of it made sense to her. She would jump from one topic to the next at breakneck speed, hardly caring that her mum couldn't follow what she was saying. This morning it was all about drones, or was it tablets? Something that she wanted for Christmas, Mrs Halifax guessed. \n\n\"She talks a fair amount. I work nights, so I don't get to spend as much time with her as I would like.\"\n\n\"Mmm-hmm\", said Mr Wallace evenly. \"Well when she is in the classroom she is close to silent. Won't talk to her classmates, won't participate, refuses to answer even the simplest of questions. I don't want to worry you, but that's something we tend to see in backwar-\"\n\nHe stopped himself just in time.\n\n\"Ahem, 'differently abled' children\" he said, with the briefest hint of a smirk. \n\n\"Oh dear\" whispered Mrs Halifax, looking pained. \n\n\"But her quietness is not the main issue. Believe me, I sometimes wish there were more quiet children in my classroom! No, I'm sorry to say she is also a very insolent little girl.\"\n\n\"Oh surely you can't mean that? She's hardly ever naughty when she's at home!\"\n\n\"Well I'm afraid we see a rather different side to her here at St Cuthbert's. When we have our literacy hour she'll pick up a book, pretend to read through it in mere minutes, and then run up to the bookshelf to snatch up another book! In maths lessons she has decided to start at the back of her textbook, despite the fact that we are still going through chapter four! And perhaps the most disrespectful, one lunch time I caught her red handed with a screwdriver, trying to dismantle the classroom cassette player! It's just-\"\n\nHe inhaled deeply and pushed his glasses back up over the bridge of his purple tinged nose. \n\n\"I'm sure you can appreciate that it makes life difficult for me and the rest of the staff.\"\n\n\"I-I'm sorry.\" Murmured Mrs Halifax. \"I had no idea she was giving you so much grief. I've just been so busy lately, what with work and the new baby, I just didn't notice there was something not right with her.\"\n\n\"That's quite alright, sometimes it takes an educator to notice these things. But try not to panic, there are steps we can take to make sure Elizabeth meets all her targets. There's a special unit at the school, where they take things at a slower pace. A smaller class size, behavioural support workers, everything she needs to get back on track. And there'll be plenty of time for colouring, something I know she enjoys\" he said, gesturing towards the classroom's art wall. \n\nMrs Halifax was deep in thought as she contemplated her daughter's picture in the lower left corner of the display. Six years old and Libby had never drawn a pony, a stick figure family, or a rainbow. Just endless boxes and circles and arrows, scrawled over with indistinguishable words written in a childish hand.\n\n\"Actually... I do think she could use a bit of extra help.\"\n\n:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::\n\nShe walked up the steps towards the looming concrete building, a relic of the seventies craze for making university buildings as ugly as possible. Still, she felt a strange sense of peace here, amongst the books and neatly ordered lab rooms.\n \nA thick slab of paper sheets trembled in her hands. She was well liked by her lecturers, but she studiously avoided them as she walked down the corridor. \n\nA grey plastic box sat on the table in the departmental office. 'Dissertation Proposals, Electrical Engineering Undergraduate course' read the label taped to the lid. It was twenty to twelve, still hours to spare before the five o'clock submission deadline.\n\nShe hovered near the box, stepping back whenever a classmate entered to submit their work. Once the proposal was submitted, the worst part would be over, she told herself. She would just need to keep making regular appointments with her supervisor. And once the was final work was submitted, make a brief presentation to her classmates. She would go up on stage at graduation. Go to interviews at all the best research facilities. Get a good job. Build the machines she saw in her dreams. \n\nShe would prove them all wrong. \n \nShe would. \n\nShe would. \n\nShe couldn't. \n\nWhen the receptionist turned away to answer the telephone Elizabeth dropped her papers into the recycling bin. Without looking back, she headed home to bed.\n \nWhen she awoke, it was dark outside. \n", "The soft white glow of the street lights shimmered off the gently rained on alley somewhere in Manhattan. The rhythmic pitter patter of rain and drains punctuated only the by the occasional car driving by.\n\nIn the midst of this percussive profusion was the unmistakable sound of Alex Botham tightening the tarp on the back of his '86 Ford Ranger. His hands working deftly, ignoring the gentle rain drops as they splash on a wristwatch given by an ex-wife; with its eternal inscription of a love that turned to resentment before the battery ran out.\n\nIn a few hours he would be seeing the sunrise slowly light up the flowing Appalachian Mountains in West Virginia. It would be the easternmost sunrise for a few years. Time had finally arrived for him to leave the East Coast. The spooks seem to have finally been shaken off this time, although he was certain he had pulled it off last time.\n\nNew York had been about par for him. Couple of years into his job, co-workers had started following him into the parking lot in groups, calling him names. A few months later, his neighbors were doing the same. He knew the signs, and had started preparations to drift on to the West Coast. He had become accustomed to the abuse and observed the geographically nuanced variations academically. A decades-old observation had served as his beacon often: an abuser only gets gratification when the abuse works, and you can't fake being abused. If you can't fake being abused, the abuser often becomes violent. It had happened before.\n\nThe good news was that he was only being called a weirdo and creep. A few drifts ago, when he was passing through Texas, they had started questioning his sexuality. He was convinced it was the work of his enemies; you can get killed for that sort of thing. Their tactics had been distinctly different, with an almost clockwork efficiency that reeks of a government organization. He called them the spooks. Alex was certain the spooks had finally been led to believe that he was never going to get his shit together enough to finish the research. It may have taken two marriages and more than thirty years, but it looks like they had finally let him be.\n\nThe most despicable trick they tried was to get his last wife to slowly kill him. Alex kicked himself for falling for the honey trap every time he remembered Elisha. Another time, they tried to use his best friend to poison him. Jack finally gave up trying to get another assassination attempt going a few years ago. Most of the time, the spooks had been content keeping Alex stressed and miserable. It looked like they enjoyed blowing hot and cold at him.\n\nThat was all behind Alex now. He had made sure to not let anyone close enough to try to kill him for more than a decade. He would have liked to get close to people again to see if the spooks still tried to kill him. But he was running out of time. He figured he had about ten more years to save the money he needed to finish his research. If it the spooks decided to show up again, he would not be able to shake them off again. In another ten years when he was ready to work on his thesis, the spooks would be far behind.\n\nEverything would be fine after the research is published; the spooks will see that he is not a threat at all and they will let him love again; maybe in another fifteen years. Just about when he reaches retirement age.\n\nAlex chuckled as he mused that one does not get to do what one truly wants till they reach the top of Maslow's pyramid, however, most in society can barely scales the sides of that pyramid, held back by the shackles of debt, desires, dreams, and delusions. What is the point of getting to the point of having the freedom to do anything at the same time as when you don't really have to do anything anymore. He figured it must be different for folks who have not been chased by spooks for decades as his chuckle turned into a cough.\n\nA stray cat hiding from the rain under a car looked around as it followed the shrill echo of the cough down a wet alley in Manhattan." ]	2
	[WP] A post-apocalyptic story set in a fantasy realm.	[ "Rammi wrapped the old jacket around her sword, the blade's violent humming slowly reducing to a murmur as she cooed to it. Soul-Singer was a masterpiece, crafted decades ago by a master Smith-Wizard, but the vibrations of the blade made a really, really loud noise. \n\nA noise that let zombies know where you were hiding. Not practical, no no.\n\nShe peeked out from the little stall she had ducked inside of, then quickly hid herself again. There's like, a hundred fucking baddies out there. The hilt of Soul blinked at her, as if asking a question. No, dipshit. We can't just go kill all of 'em. We don't know if there are any more, besides. The sword blinked twice, then closed its eye. Obviously no more work to be done for him.\n\nRammi made a mental map of the town square, starting from herself and working her way out. To the north was the duke's castle, but that was a no-go; loads of people had tried to go there for shelter when he'd attacked, so it was a backwards graveyard now. The south was just fields, and Reverfell river, but that was dangerous too, since there wasn't anything to be seen for miles, and some wizards had gone hostile. East was Mount Jufi, which wasn't so bad, but fuck that, I'm not climbing. West it is.\n\nForests were okay, anyway. They had been really pretty, up until last year. Rammi was secretly a bit excited to get to escape through one, if she was being honest with herself. Alright, Soul. Be ready, but chill out until I need you for sure, okay? Soul-Singer opened his eye at her in what felt like a glare. You're gonna get me killed, doofus.\n\nAnd then she was off, jumping over the heads of the undead with practiced alacrity, her Lift Boots doing what she had paid for them to do. She hopped and sprinted her way across the square until she landed safely onto a bazaar's rooftops, and started jogging her way across the town. The city really was pretty, once upon a time; they had amazing buildings jutting into the sky like the talons of an eagle, decorated with the thin glass-magic that southern Kennduu was known for. With the afternoon light hitting it so softly, Rammi could almost imagine what it had been like when people had lived here.\n\nShe could imagine it, actually. Gorgeous, radiant, and perfectly distracting- the zombie that she nearly ran into almost got a free meal for it, and she panicked, leaping backwards with the help of her boots. \"What the actual fuck, man.\" The zombie grunted in agreement, and she felt her eyes go wide. \n\nThis thing wasn't a fucking zombie. It was a tower, a mass of sewn together body parts, little purple crystals jutting out of it everywhere. The string that held all of (him?) together was glowing black, and Rammi swore again, taking the jacket off of Soul in a swift, angry motion. Soul began to vibrate, his eye slowly creeping open. \n\n\"You're just the cutest little girl, aren't you?\" A boy, probably a couple years younger than her, slid out from behind the zombo-goliath, smirking at his joke. She felt like spitting on him, but he was behind the zombo-goliath, and the big guy was probably going to get upset at that. She could, though.\n\nSo she did, a flying arc that spanned more than fifteen feet. It landed square in the middle of his forehead, and he reeled back in disgust, the goliath mimicking his movements, and Rammi couldn't help but laugh a little. Soul vibrated with the rhythm of a chuckle, and she couldn't help but feel a little bond with him.\n\nThe Goliath obviously felt the same way with his boy, and he charged at her, massive arms raised high in the air, ready to punish her for her insult.", "“The time is approaching for a third generation to spawn since our world was lost. You must learn what your fathers have nearly forgotten. With every passing winter I see people deviate from these ways as if they cannot die, as if they are greater than all else.\n\nI have told you this land was once the subject of Hillgraze, a modest farmland, but we were corrupted by those far away in our Liege’s lands and especially the city of Strongrock. Damn upon them. The High Lord could draw a surplus of food with the methods his brightest minds invented. He could build beautiful cites in a matter of years. All this power blinded him from his humbleness.\n\nHe and his people disposed of order one by one. They ate with no end, laid down weapons and forgot the honor of being a soldier, turned their backs on those above us.\n\nHillgraze stayed untouched for a long time. We kept our honest ways until even I was putting aside studying and turning to lameness.\n\nThe Cold One saw this, he spoke unto the Right One and the Self One, the Strong One and the Fleet one, the Wise one and the Clever one, even the Warm One. They passed on this word across the sky.\n\nFirst came the Coldest Front. This was a warning, yet we kept to our disorder. The loss of friends and isolation from nature did not stop us.\n\nSecond came the Yieldless Harvest; our bickering stomachs were not enough to beat us into knowledge.\n\nThird came the Reward. The only souls that followed an orderly way were the thieves and bandits. Luck came upon them and they took from the disorderly.\nIn an anger, the many Ones came upon us with their armies. They slaughtered turning that dreaded Strongrock into a brittle stone.\n\nI took up arms when they came upon a village at our borders. Most of our good soldiers had died fighting for our Liege. Those that returned were the brave that had order. It was now down to the town boys like me to use farm tools against the Singulaurot.\n\nWe sat behind the trees and trusted the veterans who peeked past the branches. A war cry had swept us like the wind. We ran out as if we could win. The other boys blanketed the small force of Singulaurot while we ran at them.\nI saw my three best friends killed by the dark soldiers. Our numbers thinned and those who remained began to route. I was going to join them until I caught the eye of a horseman, agent of Strong One.\n\nBehind his black faceplate was the truth. I learned then, of all our lack of integrity. I saw his mounted soldiers riding after those timid enough to flee and I ran at him with my hatchet. He cut me across my arm and his horse stepped on me. Then he put his hand forth and cast a curse that has not left me until this day.\n\nHis men left me alone as they killed all of the other town militiamen, if they could be considered men. The Singulaurot made defenses in the town and piled up the corpses of their brethren who were being returned to their realm by disintegrating into embers.\n\nI could see my town on the horizon and some villages among the hills that were under attacks of their own. I might have had a better chance of surviving in the wilderness, but I understood the need of order so I made way back to made own town on an ox-pulled cart to help defend it.\n\nMy wounds had two days to heal by the time the Singulaurot began besieging us. This force was small, but we were no match for them. No one had truly won against the Ones, perhaps a battle or two, but never the war.\n\nThey bound together salvaged wood from the villages and leaned it against our defenses. Both men and women fought the dark soldiers as they ran onto our short walls. Mail from a different world went against bare breasts. My curse let me live, at a price.\n\nSo, I tell you now, look at this list, it is our clan’s code. This is the order that protects us. You make your bolts now and practice your crossbow, but when you go out to hunt, don’t fashion yourself the master of the forest until you earn it. The Ones strike down the undeserving.\n\nThe winds carry the quick scrapers that will tear apart a slow man. The dire wolves have crept back from the caverns and warlocks roam across Hillgraze releasing their creations upon us.\n\nDue to these dangers our only choice is to become to thieves who rob those that settle the land. Enjoy your life while it lasts though, for my curse will take the years of my spawn that I was meant to lose.”\n", "Where she traveled now there remained very little magic to tap and that left her vulnerable. Her journey crossed vast expanses of newly formed wasteland lacking in water, in food, in magic. She was forced to avoid the remaining ley lines where even now great thaumaturges rose up against one another and blistered the earth under their faction’s banners. The sects now wantonly waged wars of attrition, recklessly consuming and destroying resources and mystic power. Madness. \n\nBy channeling what remained she could briefly become invisible or barely float and walk without trace but the dead would still see her and the eyeless abominations could smell her. She might turn a blade or an arrow but there wasn’t enough here to fight back. She could only rely on stealth, perception and cunning to get back to her coven. Not that they expected her back. All had agreed that her desperate pursuit was suicidal. Yet here she was, maybe a week from sanctuary, maybe a month. Seven months had passed and unbeknownst to her she had already been mourned. \n\nAnd now from the freezing wastes the cult of necromancers had come attracted by the chaos. No single faction was strong enough to abate them anymore and they joined the war by animating hordes from fields of blasted corpses left in the sorcerer’s wakes. Their cold legions were little more than a nuisance for the remaining belligerents but the dead scoured the contested lands of the living, man and beast, unlucky enough to be outside of the protected bastions. \n\nShe traveled only in the moonless hours of the night. Slow progress but the penalty for impatience would be death or worse. Each dark journey ended long before sunrise with a search for a place to conceal herself and be still and quiet, watchful and mindful of every movement and of every sound. Her route was planned as meticulously as possible but many of the old maps were now false and more than once she found herself frantically hunting for shelter exposed by the horror of breaking dawn. \n\nShe admonished herself to be prudent, to be patient, she was so close, and while she did not have that for which she was sent, she did have something immensely valuable. She had proof it was not a legend and she had insight of where it may lie. But she had to remain alive to carry the knowledge to the others. She had to bring them hope.\n" ]	3
	[WP] The main character is a villian. He is not secretly a good guy with a depressing backstory, and there is no happy ending.	[ "Just wrote for another prompt, but fits this one too.\n\nI am a wonderful person; devoted wife, self sacrificing mother, obedient daughter, choir director and chair of the Town Charity Commission. It's not my fault my dearly departed husband couldn't handle my few midnight rendezvous. I can't be blamed that my daughter is an ungrateful hateful bitch. I gave my everything to that girl, and she threw it all in my face. After I put her father out of the picture, I still had needs. Thomas was my man! My daughter may be 5, but she had no right to do those things with him. I had to punish her, you see? She forced me to do it. There wasn't that much blood in the end. But that's all okay, because I'm pregnant. Thomas will make a good father.", "“Doctor—!”\n\nShe was interrupted by the clank of wood and glass. He had lifted a bottle of whiskey and begun pouring into an already wet glass on his desk. He took a sip.\n\n“This is impor—”\n\nHand having not left the bottle, he gestured it at her; an offering for her to join him. She shook her head, mouth still open in disbelief.\n\n“Doct—”\n\n“Now, what is the trouble Miss Fischer...”\n\nHe stood up.\n\n“...that you would you barge on in, interrupting such a quiet...”\n\nHe took a breath as his shoulders rised and settled into a strong and rigid frame.\n\n‘...and lovely afternoon.”\n\n“It’s Mr. Dalloway, he’s been in an accident,” she spoke more calmly but an octave higher in urgency.\n\nHe turned his back against her gaze, and looked out upon a sun spotted hillside.\n\n“What’s his condition?” he replied, his tone now colored in his profession. \n\n“Critical. Internal bleeding and one of his lungs has collapsed.”\n\nHis eyes shifted from the window to the wall. It was lined with degrees, awards, and honors. But there was one that stood out; outlined in dark mahogany and a silver trim, an ornate certificate, a star-shaped medal, and a purple heart gleamed in the sun.\n\n“Oh our dear friend Frank, let’s see what we can do for him.” \n\nHe turns around and walks towards the door, each step resounding as the wood flooring echos his departure. She closes the door behind them.\n\nFreshly waxed limestone had now been the purveyors of their stride as the doctor and young nurse proceed towards their patient.\n\nAlong the hall, an older, but well kept man spots the pair and the pair him. \n\n“Cut down on the red meat Bobby” the doctor said lightly with a half smile.\n\n“If I can’t have it, why do ya’ll serve it?”\n\n“Southern hospitality. But be smart Bobby, I wanna see you on the course soon,” he said, pausing in his step.\n\n“Oh you bet Ricky, I can teach you a thing or two about your drive.”\n\nThe doctor smiled and continued on his way, swinging his arms as if polished iron was in his hands.\n\nAfter a few swings, the two had reached their destination. He took the chart from her hands.\n\n“Wait here, and close the door.”\n\n“Yes Dr. Rivers,” she said unusually, now with the same calm as the doctor.\n\nHe stepped into a soft sunlit room. It dimmed as the cold fluorescent light from the hall was flushed out with the closing of the door. It darkened as Dr. Rivers walked to the window and shut the curtains. Before him was Francis Dalloway, a man gasping for breath. His eyes were glazed over, barely focused upon the doctor. \n\n“Ricky, good...to see you.”.\n\n“Always, a pleasure Francis.”\n\n“Please...call me...Frank, like you always do.”\n\n“Oh Francis, it seems you’ve gotten yourself into quite a bit of trouble.”\n\nDr. Rivers tossed the chart onto the tray beside Mr. Dalloway. The intubation equipment Miss Fischer had prepared rumbled.\n\n“Aren’t you...going to...help me?”\n\n“Aren’t I? Don’t I always? I’ve been helping you here for almost fifteen years now.”\n\nHe turned and smiled at Mr. Dalloway. Bedridden, he seemed to almost shrivel as the doctor towered above him.\n\n“What’s...the problem...Ricky?”\n\n\n“And in these fifteen years, you’ve gotten old. And that’s ok—we all get old.”\n\nMr. Dalloway coughed repeatedly. He was fading by the second.\n\n“Francis, the problem, you see, is that your company got old, and you outlived it. Not as a winner, but as a loser. You have debts, debts that I will not pay in your place.”\n\n“But...we’re friends Ricky...you’re the godfather...to my daughter for Christ’s sake...and the war...we fought…the same war Ricky”\n\n“Ah—I’m glad you brought that up Francis.”\n\nHe gathered himself and looked past Mr. Dalloway, past the bedding and the wall, as if he was looking at something distant.\n\n“Back when I was stationed in Montecassino, times were hard. We had our backs to the wall and I had to make hard decisions. I watched my fellow soldiers—no, my friends, lose ground, and then lose limbs, and then lose their lives. And the few of us that survived—we emerged from those bunkers, or what was of left them, and we had to make a choice.”\n\nHis eyes began to water as his voice began to shake.\n\n“I had to leave friends behind; I tried to bring ‘em, but as we slowed, and the artillery gained, and the rations depleted; we made a choice. We left ‘em—and they wanted to stay, for our sakes.”\n\nBy now, Mr. Dalloway’s skin seemed as white and thin as paper. A flash of anger shown in his eyes before quickly dispersing into despair.\n\n“...Janette...” he said weakly.\n\n“...And the children. You’re worried about your family aren’t you? Don’t you worry Francis, I’ll take good care of them. I’m the godfather after all,” Dr. Rivers replied, with an unnervingly genuine smile.\n\n“You...mon—” \n\nDr. Rivers switched the machine off beside Mr. Dalloway. The heart rate monitor slowed to a drone. \n\n“Thanks for staying behind Frank.”\n\nDr. Rivers opened the curtain once again. He recognized one of the hospital’s lollipops in Mr. Dallaways coat. He transferred it to his. The door opened before him as Miss Fischer heard his approaching steps. \n\n“Oh Miss Fischer, we tried our very best but we simply could not save the poor man.” \n\n“A tragedy, Dr. Rivers—I’ll have Williams skip the autopsy.”\n\n“Good. I’m going to step outside for a moment, enjoy the summer air a little. Care to join me?” Dr. Rivers said coyly as he moved in the direction of the hospital entrance.\n\n“Yes, I’d love to, clear my head a little.”\n\nThey made their way out of the building, Miss Fischer keeping a pace behind. He held the door open for her.\n\n“I see you little angel, you waiting for someone?” Dr. Francis asked, approaching a little girl seated outside in one of the hospital’s gazebos. He recognized her as Bobby’s daughter. \n\nShe nodded shyly.\n\n“I’m sure Bobby will be out soon,” he says as he hands her the lollipop from his pocket.\n\nShe smiles and takes the lollipop. The two leave her, making their way to a small garden just left of the hospital fountain.\n\n“You’ve never told me any about the war before Patrick,” Miss Fischer mentioned in curiosity as she leaned against the picket fencing.\n\n“What are you talking about Sarah?” \n\n“Sorry—I just overheard a little when you were with Mr. Dalloway.”\n\nHe paused a short moment.\n\n“I was never a soldier Sarah. Could you even imagine it? Me killing?” he laughed lightheartedly, staring at the gold embossed letters that sat above the hospital entrance.\n\n“Dalloway & Rivers General Hospital” it said, shining in the sun.", "\"I can´t remember my Father ever hitting me or being abusive, my mother was the typical mousey, stay at home mom that loved her kids\", he tries to sniff the blood back up his nose, the salty taste of blood and sweat is already in his mouth. \n\"Could i have a drink of water?\" his chains rattling at his feet and wrists.\n\nJarlo Hungus, straightens his tie and steps towards the cooler. It has taken three months to track town Titaniamum, both of them zigzaging across the globe, it hasnt been hard to track down this peice of scum, the trail of carnage he has left begind him has been staggering. The Market bomb in Rio, the cable car sabotage in Austria, the list went on and on in a seemingly mad radmon sprial. \nThe government had tasked Jarlo with cornering the lunatic and quickly and quietly putting an end to the terror. \n\nAnd so here they found themselves in this 3rd floor apartment in downtown Marakesh. Jarlo would find out quickly what made this creep tick before putting him out of his misery. \n\n\"So\" Jarlo began \" If it wasnt an abusive childhood that made you like this what wa it?\" he bends to flip the blue plastic mold of the water cooler, when he feels the breath on the back of his neck and the low manical rasp \"Because i fucking like it\" and the boney hands begin to wrap around his chin and head. the laughing fills his ears before the SNAP drowns out the evening´s setting sun\n", "All at once, the symphony began.\n\nAll at once, the three dozen bombs through the city detonated and every local news channel cut to me on top of my skyscraper of choice.\n\n\"Hello,\" I said through my skeletal carbon fiber mask, \"Several thousand people just died. I want you to think about that. Buildings in this town that took years to build, all full of thousands of people each, just crumbled. The last comparable tragedy to this happened 17 years ago and everyone still remembers the many people who died.\"\n\nI stood from the chair I'd positioned in front of the camera and my cameraman panned up for a more intense shot. \"That event was nothing next to this. Ten times the violence in so much less time. I advise everyone to stay in their homes. Those in the streets will be massacred soon, and I assume most of you would like to live longer. Thank you.\"\n\nThe feed dropped and my cameraman nodded to me as he jumped from the roof. I pushed the chair and camera down after him. I smiled at the chaos below until my helicopter arrived. I stepped onboard and one of my men handed me a coffee. I pushed aside my mask and took a sip. \n\nWe cruised over the carnage for a while, my militia dominating any forces that dared stand up to them.\n\nGod damn, Folgers is pretty good.", "The pocket knife in my hands glinted, reflecting the harsh white light thrown by the halogen lamp overhead. Knives are beautiful. This one especially. Lost my virginity on this one. What a great memory.\n\nA great, heaving sigh escaped my lips. \"You're really not making this easy for me, mate.\" I love how my voice echoes in this room.\n\nI allow my shoulders to stoop as I take pause to look around. It's a nice place for interactions like these. Cliched, but with just enough style. Metal table, metal (uncomfortable) chairs, and barren cement-brick walls. One single halogen bright as the motherfuckin' sun in the middle of it, centered on the table. Almost poetic.\n\nSlowly I place my knife on the table, making sure that the blade lines up with the edge. \"There's a kind of beauty in symmetry, don't you agree?\" I look up at my charge. He doesn't respond. Can't blame him; it is kind of hard to speak with such a dirty sock stuffed in your mouth. I can see in his eyes that he agrees, at least deep down, so it's fine. His eyes are really bloodshot, fixated on me as I move around the table separating us. His head follows in kind to a point, his body fixated to the chair with intricate knots of rope.\n\nI'm now behind him, relishing in the panic displayed by his body language. He can't see me, and has no idea what I'm doing. My hand reaches up and slowly runs through his brown, curly hair. He shudders and I smile. My hand balls into a fist intertwined with his hair as I slowly pull his head back. \"Don't worry about me, love. You worry about you. If I'm going to do something rash I'll tell you first.\" His eyes were wide in what could be interpreted as terror. Pants-shitting terror. This friendly approach always seemed to have that affect. It helped that I was touching him in slightly sexual ways.\n\nThis man who's hazel eyes locked with my own blue ones was a man who had a great influence over a... party I was interested in. No not party like a soiree, party as in a certain individual. Someone I needed to lay off of me for a while. Everything I was attempting needed for this man in front of me to convince that party to stand down. At least for a day or two.\n\nMy hand left his hair, stroking down his cheek in a sweet caress that in any other setting would denote a touch between two lovers. He wrenched his head away in disgust and started to cry. A little too intimate? Oh well, I'm sure he'll be fine. Muffled sobs came from behind the sock, a guttural sound made in the throat. I like to hear them cry. I took the sock from his mouth, craving that soloist part of this symphony.\n\nWith bated breath I waited for the next sob, but it didn't come. Instead there was only his ragged breathing. \"I'm disappointed in you. I thought you'd outright cry or at least scream a little.\" I said, leisurely walking back around to the chair on the other side of the table. \"FUCK YOU!\" My charge spat, some of his enraged spittle splashing onto my glasses.\n\nI reach up and take off my glasses, cleaning them with my t-shirt. \"Please don't spray at me, it's not very polite.\" Another smile crosses my lips, one that I hope looks friendly. \"I've been a fairly welcoming host. I haven't hurt you, I don't want to hurt you. All I require is your cooperation. That's it, that's all.\" I lean forward, my hands laced together. I hope it looks like those old sly detective movies I used to watch. Smooth operator detective looking intimidating, cool, and relaxed all at the same time. I hope I look like that. \"Will you do that for me? Give me your cooperation?\"\n\nMy prose is met with another string of expletives, mostly consisting of \"fuck\" and \"cunt\" and the like. I lost interest for a moment. I let him get it out of his system. Damn this knife is gorgeous. It was a simple flip-to-open styled blade. Spring loaded. Carved wooden handle, two-and-a-half inch blade with serrations near the hilt. Polished to be almost like a mirror. Beautiful.\n\nHis tirade had stopped at this point. In fact I suspect it had stopped a good while ago. He now sat silent, his eyes periodically darting from my face to the knife in front of me. I stroked the knife with my index finger as I looked to him and smiled. \"Now that you're quite done, I just want to say that your daughter is just as beautiful as this knife. Please, take it as a compliment, I insist. Now I'll ask again, will you cooperate? Please.\" I kept my voice monotonous for the most part, stretching out \"just\" and \"beautiful\". It had the intended affect, I was glad to see.\n\nMavers immediately seemed to shrink in his chair, like air escaping from a balloon. Only there was no hilarious imitation flatulence. Just a man withering in front of his host. \"Please don't hurt her.\" He whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper, pleading with all the desperation he could muster.\n\n\"No. No, no, no, no, no. Don't you worry. You just worry about yourself.\" My tone was unexpectedly cold there. Reel it in, man.\n\nThe sobbing started up again. So did his pleading. I don't like pleading. I've never liked it since I first became intimate with my knife and the innards of another human being. It's so pathetic. I'd much rather they bark and bare their teeth at me, but usually when you mention family members all their courage goes by the wayside. \"OK, now. Time to stop your whingeing or the sock goes back in.\" I dangled said sock in front of him. It took him a few moments, but he did stop. \n\n\"Good boy. Now all I want is for you to say that you'll cooperate. All I need from you is to threaten Thompson for me. I'll give you a knife to help, they're lovely.\" I grabbed my knife for affect. \"You must do it exactly as I say. You just take the knife to his wife. Carve her up a little. You don't have to kill her, I see the worry in your eyes.\" The crying had started again. \"You just take the knife like this,\" I gripped the knife in my hand, fingers encircling the handle, thumb on the spine. \"And you make a motion like this!\"\n\nI swung the blade, catching the bridge of Mavers' nose in the process. Blood dribbled down the sides and the tip. He cried harder, in pain. His tears mixed with the blood, diluting it to a light pink-crimson colour. \n\n\"I'm sorry, I didn't warn you about that. It's just a little nick, you're fine. Anyways, you swing it like that, but get her a little deeper. I think Thompson will listen to you then.\" I set the knife back down in it's place. My fingers intertwined again. \"Now, do I have your cooperation?\" I waited for his response for ten minutes. \n\nI could see his internal struggle, reading him like a book. He wanted to give in, to say that he would do it. But Mavers was a man by-the-books. Couldn't be a Police Commissioner without that nature. His high moral upbringing and values tore and screamed at him to not give in. To not become a criminal by his own definition. His morals won. He uttered a simple \"No\". \n\nI could feel myself getting angry as a sigh left my body. \"I'm sorry but this isn't something you can say no to. I asked you the question so that we could have a conversation. Now, will you cooperate? Think about your answer carefully.\" By this point I had picked up my knife and was pointing it at him.\n\nAgain he refused, this time adding that he'd never cooperate and that I can go and fornicate with myself. Well, that was a shame. My patience was gone and I had other means of getting the results I wanted.\n\n\"I'm sorry you feel that way, Mavers. You'd best make peace in these next few moments.\" With that I leaped over the table, toppling the man to the ground. He screamed as I shoved the sock back into his mouth. I was on top of him, straddling his chest. My hand came down to his throat, nails digging in on either side of his trachea. I felt the soothing warmth of blood seep under my fingernails as they pierced the skin. That lovely coppery aroma started to waft up from the wound.\n\nMy fingers dug deeper, an audible pop breaking the sounds of his muffled screams. My fingers had gone deep enough to take hold of his trachea, and now was the fun part. It's like one of those party poppers they give you. You grabbed one end, gave the other to another party-goer and pulled until there was a small pop and confetti went fucking everywhere. I took hold and pulled, memories of birthdays long past flashing into my mind. I pulled and his trachea came with it. Thinking on it... the snap was almost the same as the popper. The confetti this time was blood.\n\nThere wasn't any more screaming, kind of hard with a hole in your throat. His eyes were wide. Starting to cloud over as the first throes of death started to take him. \"Don't worry, my friend. I'll end this quickly for you. It so hurts me to see you like this.\" I pushed my blade between the third and fourth rib on his left side, plunging it straight into his heart. I could feel the muscle pumping and jerking the blade around, set to a feverish pace as Mavers' adrenaline surged.\n\nThe jerking slowed. Then stopped. I kissed him sweet goodnight on his cheek.\n\nI withdrew my blade and wiped it on his button-down, called my clean-up crew and left the room. I had an appointment with Mrs. Thompson I couldn't miss.", "The night was cool, and shadows fell heavily between the lights of the vacant city street. At the narrow opening of a crowded alley I stood poised and ready, eyes set hard on the road. It would not be long until he arrived, his nightly routine seemed to always lead him back to my place at about this time of night. He'd never have known I was there; as far as any of them knew I was stuck in Afghanistan for another two weeks. Luckily for me, the war had stopped for just long enough to provide me with time to wage one back home.\n\n\nI knew he'd be there, the allure of my beautiful wife was apparently too good a bait to resist. I didn't even flinch when the bold blue headlights of his ritzy two-door sports car cut into the darkness surrounding me. He wouldn't see me - lust is an excellent distraction to reality. So good in fact, that when he opened my door and entered my goddamned house, he didn't even think to lock the door. \n\nNeither of them heard a thing as I entered with ease, and made my way up the stairs to the bedroom. Over the sound of their licentious, filth ridden destruction of our marriage, who could've heard the small sound of my 12-gauge getting ready for action?\n\nI made them pay for it. The shocked scream of sudden light being thrown over their foul lewdness was music to my dance of vengeance as the shotgun raised to fire. \n\nThe music played an eternity, plenty of time to savor their stricken faces of utter terror and guilt. It finally reached its wild conclusion when two consecutive booms of buckshot blasted at hundreds of miles an hour into the heaving flesh of my friend and wife. At last, the music was silent. \n\nHowever, an encore was already prepared - eagerly waiting to be poured from the Jerry can wrapped in my hand. The liquid was poured, a match was struck, and the glorious sound of flames burned long into the night. \n", "\"I don't like this, Jerry. This isn't fun anymore,\" says my colleague with the video camera.\n\nThe crowd continues to move past us. This city doesn't really care about just a couple of kids going around pulling pranks. Dunno what those guys on the web were talking about when they said to stay away from this City. I mean, these people don't do jackshit.\n\nAnne's word goes through one ear and exit right out the other. I swear, she's always way too worried about this sort of stuff. Too scared for her own good. What's the worst that could happen? Some hobo who gets his collecting cup kicked away comes at us with a shoe? Please, what a joke.\n\n\"Anne, relax. Nothing's gonna happen with us. Nothing's happened so far. I'd say we're safe,\" Bryce replies to the girl.\n\n\"I don't know, Bryce. Spring break's let all the shitheads from the colleges around here out as well. Maybe we'll get unlucky and mix up some drunk bro for a methhead.\"\n\nMy man chuckles a bit as we keep on walking through the park. I stare down at the map on my phone. Great place, honestly. Beautiful trees. Lovely pond. Got five different reactions from the panhandlers around here. This'll break our viewing record for sure.\n\nI'm beginning to really like Bryce's suggestion about going on break here. Better than DC or NYC for sure. Interesting folks too. Gave a girl my number when we passed by the bus-stop earlier.\n\n\"Bet you think she's gonna put out easily? That stranger you literally just met?\" Anne speaks up.\n\n\"I dunno. She was pretty great looking in that grunge set-up. Bit too muscly for me though. Great legs though.\"\n\n\"Very nice legs,\" Bryce smirks.\n\n\"For fuck's sakes, you two. Can't you be a little more serious about this trip?\"\n\n\"Hey, come on. If you wanna go around and interview the locals of the 'big-city,' to learn about their cultural habits and junk, you go ahead. That's why we stuck you in our group in the first place,\" I reply.\n\nMy stomach's growling. We really need to stop by a place to eat... Let's see.\n\nDonut shop looks nice. Got four outta five stars and the pictures look neat. And clean. Unlike this pile of dogshit that I accidentally stepped in. Dammit.\n\n\"Didn't think it was fair to do this thing all by myself. From the recording, to the question-making, to the editing...\" \n\n\"Hey, come on Anne. Who paid for your plane ticket here anyway?\" I think she's forgetting her place right now.\n\n\"You did? So what?\"\n\n\"I thought it was a fair exchange. You get to the city. I get some prank video footage recorded. And you get a great subject for our little film-culture project bullshit.\"\n\n\"If you were smarter, you would have hired someone to do this project for you instead while you and meathead here run off and wreak havoc on some poor girls at the beach,\" Anne continues to fiddle around on her camera, pressing some weird buttons and toggling some weird bits that I frankly don't give a shit about.\n\n...\n\nShit. She's right. Why didn't we do that?\n\nBryce's stomach growls loudly, \"Hey, Jerry. I'm hungry. Found a place to eat?\"\n\n\"Yup, donut shop. Right across the street from this corner and down the block. Let's go.\"\n\n\"I'm on a diet. No thanks,\" Anne pipes up. She's getting more irritating by the second.\n\n\"Yeah? Who said I was paying for your lunch?\"\n\nShe doesn't respond. We continue down the intersection past the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Place reeks. Really reeks. Like someone decided to make a perfume of the men's bathroom before deciding to throw in some skunk shit for the shits and giggles.\n\nThe neon light of the donut store is visible from where we are. Bryce breaks into a run. I follow suit, though I'm much faster than he is. Anne just slowly breaks into a jog like the lazy bitch she is.\n\nYou can never find good help these days. I swear. No one ever wants to have fun anymore, it's all study-study-study and no play at all. Sheesh.\n\nBryce comes to a stop at an alleyway a few buildings before the store. He quietly gestures to me to come to a halt. Anne is heaving and huffing by the time she gets to us.\n\nIn that little dark alleyway, there was a man. A greasy, sleeping man with a face so full of hair, you'd mistake him for a bear. He's snoring as loud as one too.\n\nA smile curls up on my face. Anne shakes her head at me. Bryce gives me the nod. This is going to be fun." ]	7
	[WP] People gain "lives" by collecting special rare tokens like in video games. As such, the sanctity of life has been drastically reduced.	[ "The blond, scrawny boy stood in front two wooden doors which were magnitudes upon magnitudes larger than him. Adorned with crimson velvet and gold handles, the smokey brown, lacquered doors were worth more than any amount he'd ever imagined.\n\nThe room he stood in was ever more decadent with blindingly white marble floors, enough animals on the walls to fill Noah's Ark and furniture entirely structured with ivory.\n\nHe was in a suit too roomy for his meek frame. To make it worse, it itched like fire, and he'd been standing in the same spot for nearly an hour. But the boy was there to undergo the passage the rest of his family had undergone: Meeting the eldest of their line.\n\nA buzzer rang from a speaker next to the doors.\n\n\"Jimmy,\" breathed the raspy voice of what could hardly be described as human. \"Come in, child.\"\n\nAfter a large thud from the lock mechanisms, the doors slowly swung inward to the room before him.\n\nJimmy was unprepared for the sunlight flooding in from the window of a wall directly across which greeted visitors. His eyes darted downward to the black, tiled floor. From there, his eyes followed a linear red carpet which started from the room's entrance to an oaken desk in the center. Behind it was a green, leather swivel chair, turned away from him.\n\n\"Come on, now. Don't make me wait any longer,\" the voice instructed from the seat.\n\nJimmy hesitantly inched into the room. When he had traversed the red carpet halfway toward the desk, the doors began their return to the ever ominous closed state.\n\nAs he gazed behind him to the doors, and as the view to the other side slowly thinned into nothingness, he couldn't help but feel trapped.\n\nOnce more, a loud thud from the doors' locking mechanisms sounded. A noise to bring him back to reality.\n\nHe turned back forward and again made his way.\n\nFinally, he stood before the desk, before the green chair, before his elder. Before Carlton Evor.\n\n\"I-I'm here, sir,\" the boy spoke, his voice revealing him still early into youth.\n\n\"Good. I'm- cough I'm glad you're here. Jimmy Vaughn, that's a good name. I once knew an Edward Vaughn years ago in England. He took me on my first deer hunt, but that was years ago. More years than I can remember,\" the elder Carlton said. \"Or maybe I just don't want to remember how many years ago that was hah.\"\n\nJimmy remained silent. He was unsure what to do, and the same went for his family.\n\nWhenever those in his familial line reached 18, they went to meet Carlton. They would put in a request, and someone with Carlton's office returned notice.\n\nBut this was the first time Carlton reached out to meet someone. The first time he wanted to see anyone before that person reached 18.\n\nJimmy was from a poorer branch of his family, but not too bad off. Below average described him, his mother, his father and his two older sisters adequately.\n\n\"I'm sorry for going on my little rants, Jimmy. Old age and all, you know. Or maybe you don't know hah! Oy, I'm doing it again.\"\n\n\"My parents and my sisters told me we're supposed to be talking about the Tokens?\" Jimmy asked, which he originally intended to be a statement instead.\n\n\"That's right. The Tokens. The life outside of life. The Reaper's currency. The soul made of gold. Stop me if you've heard these overly dramatic descriptions.\"\n\n\"Stop.\"\n\n\"Hah! I like you, Jimmy boy. You're so unlike the rest of your family. You simply don't give a fuck about trying to smile and impress me. ...How old are you again?\"\n\n\"I'm 11, sir.\"\n\n\"Don't tell your mother I dropped the F-bomb. It'll only cause headaches,\" Carlton said, coughing heavily.\n\nThe elder still hadn't turned his chair around to face Jimmy.\n\n\"Anyway, I've monitored you, your siblings, your aunts and uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents, your great-grandparents-times-however-many is needed to reach my direct offspring. Even my own daughter and sons were concerned with pleasing me each and every way, never engaging me as human. Just because- just because I had the most Tokens in this fucked up world. Sorry about the F-bomb again.\"\n\nA silence fell between the two.\n\n\"Do you know how that made me feel, Jimmy?\"\n\n\"Sad?\" the boy responded, almost instinctively.\n\n\"Empty, boy. Empty. Hollow. But, yes, sad is applicable, too. However you, Jimmy, you give me an old feeling: Hope. Even though your two older sisters aren't 18 yet, I know enough about them to see they're just like everyone else in my bloodline. So very obedient.\"\n\n\"I don't understand how I can help, sir.\"\n\n\"Help me? No no no. You're not here to help me. Each time one of our kin has come to me when they reached 18, I converse with them, and I use the word converse lightly, to see what kind of potential they may still hold. Maybe they want to help me, like you asked about. Maybe they want to help themselves, build an empire of their own.\"\n\nBefore Carlton could begin his next sentence, he started a ravenous coughing fit. Louder and louder, each cough became more intense than the last.\n\nJimmy even saw a few blood droplets fly in various directions from behind the green chair.\n\nCough. Cough. Cough. Cough. \n\nThen one which almost seemed to have shook the room.\n\nFinally, instead of a loud, thunderous wheeze to end it all, Carlton only let out a sigh to release whatever air he held in his dusty lungs.\n\nJimmy didn't know what to do. His eyes widened. His mouth was agape. Although he was young, he understood what had transpired before him. His elder had died.\n\nThe boy's left foot stepped backward instinctively to get away, but before he could make more movements, a golden glow shimmered from a cabinet to his right. And as quick as it appeared, the light vanished.\n\nCough.\n\n\"Did I die?\" said the raspy voice from behind the chair. \"These damned Tokens are getting me less and less mileage each time.\"\n\nThe boy screamed. And though he wanted to run, he only screamed in place as his back slowly lurched away from the voice.\n\n\"What?\" Carlton asked, a inquisitive tone in his voice. \"Never seen someone die before?\"\n\nJimmy continued his scream until it lowered and lowered into a subtle \"ahh.\"\n\n\"As I was saying before the Grim Reaper rudely interrupted me, all of our kin come before me so that I can judge their potential. To help them along with their desires, I bestow one Token. After all, taking over the world or becoming an overworked and stressed out novelist can kill a person.\"\n\n\"I- I- I- There's nothing I want to do yet,\" Jimmy stumbled through his words, finally able to answer through his shock. \"I want to have food and a bed.\"\n\n\"Yes! cough Yes!\" Carlton said slightly louder than anything else he'd said during their conversation, which surprised young Jimmy. \"You want nothing. Even I want things, and I already have everything. You, Jimmy boy, I want you to keep wanting nothing. I want you to take that feeling and carry it with you to see where your life and the lives of others lead.\"\n\n\"But how's that going to help?\"\n\n\"Don't want to help, Jimmy. Just help. In the drawer to the right of you are three Tokens. Take those, Jimmy! Take those with you toward your life's journey.\"\n\nJimmy looked back at the cabinet where the golden glow emanated from earlier.\n\n\"Sir,\" Jimmy said, meekly, \"I think you just used one of those Tokens.\"\n\n\"In the drawer to the right of you are two Tokens. Take those, Jimmy! Take those with you toward your life's journey. I'll get back to you about a third one.\"\n\nThe boy did as he was told. Through the antique cabinet, he grabbed the Tokens. In between his two palms were golden coins the size of a quarter. Each had the number 4 engraved on them.\n\nAgain, the doors opened after the familiar locking mechanisms churned their gears.\n\n\"Jimmy, help not because you have to. Help because it's who you are,\" Carlton said before Jimmy started for the doors. \"Oh, and don't be a stranger. Visit me anytime. Just don't tell the rest of our weird family.\"", "The impact of the supply pod shook the trees around them.\n\n“South-west, near Lake Kawal”, Rose shouted from the pinnacle tree.\nAn audible grunt echoed through the group, \n\n“The lake is less than a day’s walk away, we’re almost certain to get their first if we leave now”, \n\n“This area’s too crowded. We have enough tokens for another month, lets leave this pod and get a head start on the others, we’ll get the next drop when it’s safer” Lor was most visibly pissed off out of everyone, he had been ever since they left the mountains.\n\n“A head start in which direction? We can’t go back to the mountains with Tanchi and Flint wounded, the hills to the east are hardly easier to traverse and are crawling with people regardless. We either stay here or move towards the lake. Standing still doesn’t sound like getting a head start to me.”\nRose jumped down just as Hoch finished, \n\n“Lor, I’m sorry. Honestly. But if we go on this wild goose chase it’ll just end up getting even more of us wounded, or worse. We have to keep moving.”\n\nLor’s face dropped in defeat. He grunted and walked away, busying himself tending to the horses.\n\n\n\nThe group gathered themselves and set off quickly, with Lor and Rose going ahead as scouts. Within half a day they were walking alongside the lake, the supply pod clearly in site on the coast a few kilometres away. \n\n“Rose?”\n\n“Hmm?”\n\n“Do you think she’s alive?”\n\nRose looked blatantly surprised. \n\n“I… Umm..”, she stood still for a few seconds, clearly deep in thought. Lor stared at her, a look of desperation on his face.\n\n“She has tokens with her and she is as able as any of us at surviving but… Lor, We hardly survived the blizzard with shelter and a fire. I’m not saying it’s impossible but… It’s.. It’s unlikely. I’m sorry.” \nRose gave Lor a look of sympathy as he turned and walked away, his head bowed.\n\nThe rest of the walk was spent silent. They arrived at the pod and busied themselves opening it, an activity Rose never found got any easier. \n\nHoch was confused, usually they opened the pod and came out to meet the rest of the group but this time they hadn’t moved. He had been watched them for the entire thirty minutes since they opened the pod. They had just been sitting there, perfectly still. He had thought it was perhaps booby-trapped and they had been killed but decided that was absurd, who would have done it? The pod had been visible for a good few hours now and anyway, I’m sure a booby-trap would have been more of an obvious death. As he drew closer he could tell they were clearly alive, though they were both staring intently at something on the floor, a piece of paper? \n\nStanding next to Lor and Rose, he read what was on the paper.\n\n“The experiment is over. There will be no further tokens.”\n\nHoch fell to his knees.\n\n", "The blood-red orb was coldly solid against my fingers, throbbing with a faint pulse just barely stronger than my own. I'd gripped it tightly in my fright, pulling it from my pocket to bring it against my skin as soon as I'd sensed danger. After such a close call, my heart was racing, and no surprise. It takes more than the discovery of dark magic to recondition fight or flight instincts millions of years old, and I was still buzzing with adrenaline.\n\nAll around me on the street, bodies were fizzing with red smoke, some already starting to re-congeal, shaking their heads and looking vaguely annoyed. The bus that had caused all the trouble was already half a mile away, front end covered in more blood than just one incident could account for, barreling down the streets of our small town at over seventy miles per hour. It was nothing strange, and for the most part it kept to the roads, since they were fast and hitting people on sidewalks tended to slow you down.\n\nHowever, hitting a car slows you down even more. So, when somebody had stopped their safety-feature stripped hot rod in the middle of the street, rather than stopping or slamming into it, he had swerved around. And of course, instead of going into oncoming traffic, he'd plowed through the pedestrian filled sidewalk. It was a mess, and pretty rude, considering how many orbs he'd just popped just to save a few seconds. I had been close to biting it myself, the side of the bus sideswiping my arm as it flew past. Nothing broken, but I'd scraped the back of my hand, and it stung.\n\nRubbing it gingerly, I took a look down at my girlfriend, who had been holding that hand. She'd gotten caught under the tires, and was looking nowhere as pretty as she had when we'd gone out. As I came off the adrenaline high, I wrinkled my nose a little at the scent of smashed guts and spilled blood. Everyone else was back in one piece already, save for her, and people were starting to stare. Clearly, she hadn't had an extra life on her when the bus had hit, and people were \"tsk tsk\"ing her carelessness. \n\nI felt largely the same, sighing and rolling my eyes before I knelt down beside her. The crimson marble throbbed faster as it came near her, visibly changing size as I held it firmly between my thumb and forefinger, pressing it against her skin. It sunk cleanly into her flesh without any resistance at all, as if I'd dropped it into empty air. \n\nI straightened and brushed off my jeans as the red smoke began to billow around her, emanating from her exposed wounds, concealing them as they were gruesomely re-knit. Still a little irritated about being made late due to her forgetfulness, I softened a little when I saw her eyelids flicker, putting a hand out to help her up. Still unable to resist saying something, I chastised her gently, \"You're lucky I love you.\"" ]	3
	[WP] to win the U.S presidential elections, every candidate must fight to the death in a gladiator arena.	[ "Today was the day. Our factions had spoken, and chosen a challenger, a true warrior in their eyes. Someone who understood what it was like to be stuck in a gritty, bloody fight. You see, long ago the American people had realized that foot soldiers do not like war. They do not do it because they enjoy violence, violence lends itself only to pain, but the poor and those who thought they had no future often had no choice, the citizens were sent to fight wars of attrition that monarchs and leaders were entirely disconnected from. The reality of blood, and agony, and bleeding to death slowly in a stifling hot jungle or a cold, muddy battlefield was unknown to them. They were blinded by absolute power, not by mustard gas.\n\nAnd so, it was decreed. First, we will nominate two men who hold our ideals true. Then, we will force them to make good on their promise that our country, and their ideals are worthy. It is only through a trial in which one must risk that which is most precious, his life itself, in tribute to our nation, that we know he is a man who represents us, the people, and the nation. It was instituted after the civil war, in which the most American lives had been lost because individual leaders placed their ambitions above the people safety.\n\nBut now, it was 1932, and we were seeing something that we hadn’t considered. FDR, the man whom many supported, and who had been elected on the Democratic ticket, was a known survivor of Polio. He had, however, been crippled by it. His opponent, Herbert Hoover, on the Republican party, was often described as inadequate, lacking the morality, charisma, and damn-fool luck of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. But the rules were the rules. \nIt was February 19th, a national holiday. Factionists filled the streets, bearing symbols and colors of the man and the party they supported, all marching toward the White House. On this day, the lawns were ornamented, bleachers as large as the House itself stood, opposing each other, looking down on a sand pit. The candidate would march out of his side of the crowded, bleachers, supporters yelling their support, looking wild and crazed, ready to see their chosen man prove himself. This day was chosen so that any severe wounds incurred during the fight could adequately heal before he was sworn in on March 4th. The crowds were lively with debate, one could overhear “ I love Franklin dearly, he’s a true man of the people, but he's got no chance with that cain in one hand. Hoover’s gonna decapitate him. Fastest election in history is my bet” said one myopic man. \n\t\n“ That’s a load of bull! You don’t survive polio without strength, and I have no doubt FDR’s got enough in reserve to take on this fat lump” said a woman decked out in FDR paraphernalia. Across the sand pit, the Republicans were cheering loudly, feeling assured of their victory. “Our man’s got the whole damn FBI training behind him, and he’s only got to kill a polio weakened idealist,” spat a man with a jutting, jaw, and eyes that flared with bloodlust.\n\t\nThe Liberty Bell, specially imported on these occasions, made its awkward, cracked tocsin. Hoover rushed into the pit, waving his hands, urging his supporters to yell louder, basking in the glory of his assured triumph. Out of the other tunnel, a man walked, with a slowed, limping gait. He was assisted by a cain. They eyed each other. Franklin’s face was unreadable, a book closed, then padlocked shut. But Hoover gave a menacing grin, showing far too many of his teeth, his jowls bulging like a dog with Rabies. Again, the Liberty Bell tolled, signaling the start of the fight. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for this. This fight, would determine our nation's fate in the coming years of hardship that seemed inevitable.\n\t\nImmediately, Hoover pushed hard, using his retiarius gear, a net of razor wire, and a piercingly sharp trident. He clearly thought himself as worthy to wield it as poseidon. FDR gave, using his already battered cain to fend off the brutal, forceful jabs and stabs. He kept backing up, giving ground. The Democrats were screaming, “where is your toughness bred through suffering?!”, as the Republicans shouted “finish him, he is not fit to fight, nor to lead!”\n\t\nFinally, it appeared as if Roosevelt was on his last legs, and he put on knee down, grabbing his cane with both hands. Hoover, sensing opportunity, threw his Trident, directly toward his opponent. At the last second, Roosevelt separated his grip from the cane’s worn shaft, revealing a dazzling, elegant blade. The Trident, blocked by the blade, fell into the sand, and FDR rolled forward, at what must have been the cost of much pain, but it paid off, because he came up, standing with his hidden sabre pinning Hoover. He looked to the American people, who resolutely, in a show of unity, first held out their fists, turning them over, displaying an inverted thumb. Franklin nodded, and quickly slid his sword into Hoover’s neck. Hoover fell to the ground, choking to death, his lungs filling with his own blood, not ichor. \n\t\nFDR calmly cleaned his blade, resheathed it in the cane, and addressed the American people, “Any man who thinks himself a god, Of infallible wisdom, above mortals, will become a tyrant with poisonous ideology, or realize his imperfections, but willfully ignore them, leading to foolish and costly mistakes.”\n\t\n And although Roosevelt would go on to fight wars, he was willing to make the hard choice. He protected thousands of Americans in the years to come, and while undeniably a vile act, saved thousands of lives, Japanese, American, Ally and Axis by bombing a militant, ideologically poisoned Japan. This prevented an invasion by land, which would surely have been more costly, in both lives and resources.\n\t\nNo man can ever be perfect, no government can ever be perfect, no world will ever be perfect. But those who try to make a difference, those willing to risk any number of things to do what is right, are the core of humanity. No weapon, no regime, no man can ruin this. So hold it dear, encourage the flames, until they emblazon you to do what is right.", "This was it: the Big Day. Election Day.\nNovember 8, 2016, dawned clear and bright. Thousands of spectators snaked their way through Washington, D.C, to the enormous coliseum that stood at the Mall, while millions more tuned in at home.\nToday was the event every American citizen had been looking forward to since the end of the primaries. The results of the primaries had been dismal. No candidate had a clear victory in either party, and the parties themselves had shattered as a result. No one knew what would happen--President Obama was leaving, and no one could get enough votes to take his place. Then, Representative Bannister from Texas introduced The Bill. With overwhelming support, The Bill flew through both chambers of Congress and over the president's veto. In a few short weeks, construction began on the enormous arena that would host the program. Today was the culmination of that effort.\nThe coliseum stood next to the Washington Monument, watched over by the Lincoln Memorial. The Reflecting Pool ran through the center of the arena. On an island in the middle of the Pool and stashed around the floor were weapons, of all eras, of all shapes and sizes. Over a ten-foot barrier that ringed the battlefield rose two hundred rows of benches that were rapidly being filled by a bustling, chattering crowd.\n\"Good morning, Washington, D.C!\" boomed the voice of ex-president Jimmy Carter. He and the president's family, as well as other high-ranking officials, sat in the High Box that overlooked the whole arena. The crowd roared at his words, scattering clusters of pigeons from the rafters.\n\"Today is a momentous day,\" he continued, \"for today marks the beginning of a new era of politics. No longer will delegates hum and haw over who will please the most people; no, now we return to our roots. Let the first Presidential Games BEGIN!\"\nAt this, gates in the walls rattled upward, and out stepped the candidates. \nDonald Drumpf wore his best suit, his overtanned face and flyaway toupee hidden behind a full-face helm. He lifted the facemask and grinned at the crowd.\nBernie Sanders was dressed in the outfit he wore as a teen: a hauberk of chain mail, crimson tights, and soft leather boots. Upon his chest was emblazoned a caricature of a blue and white donkey, and a plume of white hair sprouted from the top of his conical cap. \nHillary Clinton wore a neat blue business suit, her hair impeccably coiffed with enough hair product to stop a bullet.\nTed Cruz stepped out, a sad sort of half-smile on his face. He wore a suit as well, black and covered in small silver Zodiac symbols.\nEach of the candidates was greeted with a mixture of cheers, jeers, boos, and laughs. The candidates raised their hands, waved, and prepared for battle. Drumpf slipped his facemask down again; Cruz sighed resignedly and set his shoulders, that small smile still on his face; Hillary knocked on her hair; and Bernie did a couple stretches. The spectators held their breath.\nMoments later, a trio of fighter jets rent the sky, dozens of fireworks lit up the arena, and the battle commenced.", "\"Hello, for those of you just joining I'm your battle commentator, and that's all you need to know me as! I'm bringing to those of you on the radio and viewing it now in depth descriptions of on going happenings in the ring! This election I'm joined by current president: Barack OOOoooooobama! say hello Barack!\n\n\"uuuhhhh hello, citizens viewing the current proceedings, I am indeed your president, adding to the on going commentary with my own, twice survival, in these uuuhhhh games.\"\n\n\"Looking on the democratic side Sanders is really going for that stone wall approach with his two aspis shields, steadily gaining on Hillary.\"\n\n\"UUUhhhh honestly I wasn't expecting Hillary to come at this brawl with that Zweihander after that sparing match in my first election, It seems like she uuhhhh really got her swings in order this time around.\"\n\n\"I can tell, Sanders is really having a hard time keeping up with all overheads she dolling out! WAIT! He just rolled left under a vertical swing from Hillary, he's going for a haymaker, BOOM! Man that's gotta hurt with that shield he's got on.\"\n\n\"It's uuuuhhhhh just like back in 2008, too much strength on one particular strike. She's not on the ground thanks to her uuuhhhh planted blade, most of my trainers would have gone out with as little as uuhhhh pommel to the face, end him rightly indeed.\"\n\n\"Looks like Sanders is going in for another haymaker, he's got some intense momentum going in that run. He's raising his shield, this could be it for Hillary! Oh! And a surprise upswing from Miss Clinton! Sanders is on the ground, and that finishes the primaries on for the democrats! Hillary seems to be leading the pack at the moment but seems like it might be too soon to tell!\"\n\n\"Uuuuuuuuhhhhh I have a question.\"\n\n\"What is it Mr. President?\"\n\n\"Mr. Trump just shot Kasich with what appears to be a revolver. From my experience guns were not tolerated on these battle grounds.\"\n\n\"I just got word, Trump bribed his gun through security and is surprisingly strong despite this disparity in rules. That said, Kasich is surprisingly not dead and is managing to barely hold his against the much closer Cruz.\"\n\n\"I have not seen such an odd approach in uuuhhhh tactics before, as far as Cruz's quote on quote \"weapon\" goes.\"\n\n\"Yeah, heavy iron armor under a strange layer of Kevlar has made him all but invulnerable to Trump's gun, but I'm seeing some heavy resistance with his off hand pike.\"\n\n\"This uuuhhhh seems a bit uuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh unfair, and not as interesting and somewhat balanced as the democrat battle.\"\n\n\"That was the main reason we decided against guns, sir. And with that both primaries are finished! Any final thoughts Mr. President?\"\n\n\"I uuuhhhh won't say either way who I'm rooting for, but uuuuhhhhh I'm looking forward to a bit more fair play all around. This election lacks a certain uuuuhhhhhh I don't know, like a finality we wish this election could bring...but that remains to be seen.\"\n\n\"Wise words sir. Anyway! Until next time, I'm your battle commentator, and happy voting!\"\n\n\n ***\n\nPost battle, 5:37 pm\n\n\n\n\"Ms. Clinton.\"\n\n\"Barack.\"\n\n\"I see your still struggling with that uuuuuhhhh sword there\"\n\nShe looked up at Obama, still clutching at the bleeding wound from Sanders. She'd been having trouble keeping her thoughts together since she'd left the fight, and knew she wouldn't be able to keep herself going without medical help.\n\n\"Oh don't talk down to me,\" she said trying to rush this conversation \"I could have won.\"\n\n\"Maybe, but you need to show the crowds you're strong. They'll need a strong leader after me.\"\n\n\"Oh spare me, just like you spared McCain.\"\n\nObama sighs at the jab, it was a common one. He had been the first president to show mercy in his final fight, and everyone held some sort of reservations to the fact.\n\n\"I came here to offer advise, not to have one of my successors taunt theirrrrrrrr superior.\" \n\n\"Then get to it, I'm starting to get a headache.\"\n\nObama let out another sigh and tried his best to put as much emphasis into his gaze as he could.\n\n\"Lincoln's secret past has come back to haunt us...and I'm gonna need you, some others, and a whole lot of garlic if we're gonna save this country...again\"\n " ]	3
	[WP] Reincarnation exists, and you can remember only the last thing that happened to you in your last life. You were murdered in your last life. Now you've found your killer, what do you do?	[ "He had entered the trench with bayonet on rifle\n\nMy dying screams did the booming cannons stifle\n\nMy last memories were of my own blood\n\nLeaving my body and mixing with mud\n\nAnd then that life was taken away\n\nAnd I was born again on another day\n\nHow many years passed I knew not\n\nI had no inkling in which battle I'd fought\n\nA whole lifetime of peace and one memory of violence\n\nThe sound of battle raging before I slipped into Silence\n\nFor many long years after I returned\n\nIn my head that memory burned\n\nThen one day out of the corner of my eye\n\nI spotted the man that caused me to die\n\nMuch older now his head now all white\n\nAll decked in medals an honourable sight\n\nHe marched with his comrades in a sombre parade\n\nHow could the watching public allow this charade\n\nA murder in their midst did they not care\n\nHe killed me does no body care\n\nUp to a monument did this march go\n\nAnd once there did the murderer slow\n\nOut from the crowd he walked alone wreath in hand\n\nLegs so frail it was a wonder he could stand\n\nAt base of the pillar he laid it to rest\n\nThen he stood there in silence with a hand on chest\n\nAfter a few moments he began to sway\n\nAll of a sudden his legs gave\n\nA few of his fellow marchers came to his aid\n\nWalked off with him crying, all left but I stayed\n\nI walked to the base of the cause of his grief\n\nStood there quietly with his wreath\n\nIn memory of those who died in the fields of France\n\nMay they find peace where the red poppies now dance\n\nA tear in my eye I began understand\n\nWhy that man had marched with brass band\n\nFor a murderer he certainly was not\n\nJust another young boy by the great war caught\n\n\n\n", "The only thing that I could remember every day like it happened yesterday was my death. My last death that is, the cold metal sinking into my brain, then everything shutting down. Like the light-switch of my life had been turned off, and then flickered back on again in my new world. Where I'm only a child, but a very mature and silent child. Because reincarnation isn't supposed to happen, and nobody would believe me if I told them my past. To them, I'm mental. Traumatized by fantasy worlds, and now they've taken it a step forward, by sending me to a psychiatrist. \n\nHe asked to be alone with me. I only said alright to get my clingy new father's hand off my shoulder. That was a mistake, because now I see it. The way his eyes narrowed as the heavy wooden door closed, and how his hands seemed agitated. They had the same life as the man a decade ago, with a few new scars and wrinkles. His skin now, in the light, was sickly pale, and he looked like someone who held a superior mindset. He looked like Chase Helterin. \n\nChase Helterin the killer. My killer. \nI was already at a psychiatrist, so I decided to play a risky card. \n\"Chase, why were you drinking a daquiri on September seventeenth at a nightclub in 1985? That's not a good example.\"\nHe seemed taken back. Good, I wasn't even started. \n\"Sienna, it-\"\n\"Call me Kat, like the girl you killed. The bullet didn't work though, did it?\"\nI was hurt, and I wanted him to know it. \nHis eyes crinkled in confusion, and then alarm as it struck him. \"You're her?\"\n\nClearly he knew about reincarnation. But what about karma?\nI clasped my hands in front of me, placing on the innocent child look. \"I'm just a kid, with mental issues and a bullet scar.\" \nTesting his limits. \n\"Why did you come back? Is this a joke to you, because I will kill you again!\" \nHe never did have a very good temper. \n\"Child abuse.\" Was my flat reply. \nI heard the drawer in front of him click open, and a heavy weight be lifted as the slider groaned in relief. \n\"I wanted you dead.\"\n\"Why?\"\nI never got a reply." ]	2
	[WP] A hungry alien entity has infiltrated a maximum security prison. The prisoners can't escape and it doesn't show up on security cameras. The guards don't believe them, even as prisoners regularly die of seemingly natural causes.	[ "“I’m so hungry and tired. Tired of this meaningless existence.”\n\n\nFrank startled awake. He looked over the edge of his bunk down to the lower bed. “Roy is that you?”\n\n\nRoy groaned. “Is what me?”\n\n\nThere usually isn’t much heavy sleeping in prison with all the inspections and flashlight patrols to make sure the inmates stayed inmates. Still, Roy was a human, and like all humans he detested being woken up.\n\n\nThe nameless voice whispered again, “So tired. Release me in emptiness. Release me... to the void.”\n\n\n“Seriously, cut that shit out.”\n\n\n“Cut what shit out? Go back to sleep man.”\n\n\nAdrenaline still pumping through his veins, Frank sat up in his bunk. Few things frightened him these days. Getting beaten to within an inch of your life and shanked a few times will do wonders for your fear of death. And once you conquer death, then there really aren’t that many fears left. Except, perhaps, losing your sanity.\n\n\nRoy could hear Frank breathing heavily. He sighed and figured that since he probably wasn’t going back to sleep soon, they might as well make conversation.\n\n\n“Hey Frank, you still upset about Joe? Maybe it’s those pills Dr. Lucas gave you man”\n\n\nFour years ago, Frank and his partner-in-crime Joe had found themselves serving a decade at the Penitentiary of New Mexico for embezzling funds from their Fortune 500 oil company. Being a jailbird wasn’t so much a miserable experience, and the two had each other’s backs most of the time. Actually, pretty much all the time, except that once in the prison yard with the Aryan Brotherhood when he did get beaten half to death. \n\n\nWhen Joe passed two months ago from an unexpected brain aneurysm, Frank had met with the prison psychiatrist. The good doctor had misdiagnosed his patient’s unwillingness to leave his cell and incontinent mood as depression. So he prescribed a triangular blue pill to take twice a week under his supervision.\n\n\n“You’re probably right”, Frank agreed. “I’ll ask him in the morning. Sorry about that.”\n\n\n“Fuck off. Get some sleep”\n\n\n“Free us… end the cycle. Become one with the infinite…”\n\n\nFrank did his best to ignore the voices. He drifted off into fitful sleep and nightmares trying to outrun a darkness chasing him down the hallways of his cell block. He fell into a dream of when he would finally finish his sentence. His blonde beach bunny mistress was running up to meet him when wispy tendrils of dark smoke suddenly emerged from her fingertips and orifices, reaching out to clutch at him.\n\n\n“There is no escape for you. Free… Free yourself from this madness. Enter the void”\n\n\nFrank didn’t go back to sleep after that. In the morning, he traded a few cigarettes with Sysco in C38 to get an appointment with Dr. Lucas..\n\n\n“What seems to be the problem Frank. You look unwell”\n\n\n“I’ve been hearing things. Hallucinating. I keep hearing these angry dark voices. Telling me to kill myself, or to free them or… well I’m not sure what they want. I think it may be those pills you gave me.”\n\n\n“I see.”\n\n\nDr. Lucas frowned. Frank was a difficult specimen to understand. Certainly he couldn’t take Frank off the meds now that they were so close to working.\n\n\n“Frank, I want you to continue taking those pills. You’re showing remarkable improvement”, Dr. Lucas offered. “Remember… you couldn’t even step foot outside your cell just a month ago?”\n\n\nFrank didn’t remember it that way. “I didn’t need those pills then, doc. I was just lookin’ out for myself without Joe to cover my back”.\n\n\n“Maybe… maybe not. Hey listen, I think the hallucinations are going to go away on their own, so just tough it out for one more week. Here, let me prescribe you some Oxycitalopram, it should help a bit”\n\n\n“Okay… one week.”\n\n\nDr. Lucas wrote out a prescription to give to his aide. “Try and get some rest. Let me know if the medicine acts up again. Otherwise, I’ll see you soon”.\n\n\nEven with the new pills, Frank continued hearing the dark voices and having nightmares. He’d wake Roy up in the middle of the night with crazed mutterings.\n\n\n“They’re coming for us. The darkness will consume this world.”\n\n\n“The guards, the warden, the doctor. They’re all in it together. There’s only one way out”\n\n\n“I see it all clearly now. Joe told me last night. The end is nigh.”\n\n\nRoy had been in the New Mexico Supermax for twenty years and had seen this kind of stuff before, though never firsthand. Prison crazy, he thought, as he buried his head in his pillow. Either he’ll come to his senses or someone will shank him soon. He had half a mind to do it himself.\n\n\nThree nights later, after enraging the cell block with a bloodcurdling scream, the guards had Frank placed in solitary. It was a little strange to some people that Dr. Lucas reneged on his agreement to visit, but the psychiatrist was a busy man.\n\n\nTwo days later, after a surprisingly quiet night, a guard found Frank prostrate on his bed, dead of an apparent heart attack. It’s only then that Dr. Lucas paid a solemn visit.\n\n\n“The poor man.” Dr. Lucas remarked sympathetically in front of the guards.\n\n\n“Well, at least it was a quick death”, remarked one.\n\n\nThe other agreed, “He was a little shit thief. I know you don’t see it my way doc, but maybe it’s good that he’s dead”.\n\n\nDr. Lucas nodded, turned away, and began walking. Once he was far enough from his latest victim, he dropped the solemn masquerade, smiled, and licked his lips. After living with humans for a decade, it had become second nature for him to mimic their emotions, and Lucathoon was incredibly… satiated. Frank had been his greatest psychic feast yet, and so simple to cook; just a small dash of telepathy. And delivering justice, which is not a foreign concept to his species, always made the meal more savory. It’s too bad the prisoner didn’t last much more than a week before he succumbed to the side effects of sleep deprivation and adrenaline exhaustion. The imagination of that man! Lucathoon rubbed his tummy skin. He wouldn’t have to feed again for months. \n", "At the back of his cell, Big Mike stared out into the dimmed hallway of the Greensboro Maximum Security Prison. It was 3am, long past the time when quiet hours would be enforced. Normally it would be tranquil at this time, which is why Big Mike liked to be awake for it. Orange light from the common area lit up the hall with an eerie glow,through which he could see a faint outline of the man in cell 432. Eddie. Or Easy E, depending who you asked. He was acting weird, on his knees by the door of his cell clutching the bars. His face was obscured by the mop of hair that fell to the ground, his head hung low. He was laughing. No, he was sobbing. It took Big Mike a few more minutes to decide that he was not doing either, but something in between. \n\tSuddenly the man’s head snapped up, eyes rolling, glinting in the orange light. A horrific scream erupted from his lips. It echoed through the hall, ripping people out of slumber with their skin crawling and hearts pumping. Big Mike almost flinched, but showed no reaction. It was the scream of a cornered animal – pathetic and desperate and full of pain. The man began clutching his head and rolling around in his cell. His frightened cellmate began calling for guards. Other cells began making noise too, shouts for quiet, others for help. “The fuck is going on?” said Tommy P, rolling over on the top bunk. Big Mike didn’t say anything. He never did. \n\tGuards flooded the hall, banging on cell doors to keep the inmates back. Hands that extended into the hall were given a sharp rap to the knuckles. All were pointing towards cell 432. Tommy P rushed to the cell door to get a better look. Big Mike held back, studying the situation with quiet intensity, expressionless: one hand on his chin, one clasping his elbow. Some thought he was dumb, others knew not to think that. \n\tThe screaming continued for another ten seconds as guards fumbled with keys and shouted for Eddie’s cellmate to move away from the contorted body writhing on the floor. There was a click as the cell was unlocked, and like magic Eddies body went rigid, straightened as if he were simply taking a nap on the cool concrete. The mutterings and banter from other cells was suddenly hushed as a guard bent down to take Eddie’s pulse. Seconds ticked by, and Big Mike knew this was the quietest the Greensboro Maximum Security Prison had ever been at 3:02am. \n\tThe guard stood up, shaking his head. “Drugs, probably” he said to the head guard. Those words sizzled through the hall as if on a fuse. A second of shock passed, and then the glass-like silence shattered into a million pieces. Inmates grabbed the bars of their cells and shook them so violently the windows rattled. “THAT’S THE SIXTH TIME THIS MONTH YOU BASTARDS!” Shouted Tommy P. “FUCK YOU!” “THERE’S SOMETHING IN HERE!” “HE’S BEING EATEN ON THE INSIDE!” were a few of the discernible shouts amid the chaotic hall. Big Mike blinked. It was the 6th time someone had done died this month, though each been a little different. The only thing that was the same was that bone-chilling scream that each had made just before the convulsions began. \n\tThe head guard Turned and shouted “EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP! THERE IS NOTHING IN HERE EATING PEOPLE ‘FROM THE INSIDE’! ANYONE WHO SO MUCH AS WHISPERS ABOUT ALIENS GETS 30 DAYS SOLITARY, THAT I PROMISE YOU!” \n\tAnd then the sirens began. Red lights replaced the orange as the long, fearful drone resonated through the building. Something was wrong. Inmates screamed to be let out. Tommy P’s eyes widened in fear. Big Mike raised his eyebrows. \n" ]	2
	[WP] Everyone is born with at least one superpower. Some, like flight or telekinesis, are useful. Some, like super-fertility or the ability to change your eye color, are inconvenient or just pointless. You're part of a crime-fighting team with powers from the second category.	[ "\nMe and my team are secondary heroes, people with super powers that are completely useless. You read that right, our powers are completely useless. There are five of us. First we have TimeT who can tell you what time it is. Seriously that's his power, he can tell you the exact time, down to the very second. He is in charge of telling people when to act. Second we EyeS who has the ability to see really well. She is in charge of identifying the targets. Third we have Sweaty who just sweats a lot. We put him in when we need a distraction. In the fourth spot we have Harry who can grow his hair at will. I still don't know what we have him for. And lastly there is me Meg. I can grow my nails to any length I want. ", "Beep Beep, Beep Beep\n\"TODAY'S THE DAY!\" the young man says as he jumps out of bed. Quickly getting dressed in his crime fighting outfit the boy looked at himself in the mirror with a grin on his face. \"O.K Arnold calm down I know it's the day I finally get to do my first actual task in the battle but it's only 4 in the morning so I should just slow it down and calm myself.\" \n\nArnold talked to himself a bit more established basically all he just said until It was almost time to bike to the building. After all it was 27 miles away so Arnold needed to get moving before 5 a.m.\n\nLooking one last time at himself he looked at his orange hair trying to see if it looked o.k, he readjusted his C.F.S.A (Crime Fighting Super Allegiance) Gloves TM, and finally he made sure he had his C.F.S.A Boots TM on since he forgot to put them on during his first class for this job. \n\nRushing down the hallway Arnold threw himself on his bike right when he got out the door and starting his daily routine of biking to keep himself fit for battles. \n\nEventually at 6 a clock on the dot right when the building opened. It was a normal police station basically but much bigger raining 50 stories high the first 20 floors were for teaching hero's in training and the rest were for meetings for hero's. The higher up you were the more important you were to the C.F.S.A. \n\nArnold immediately threw himself in the building while the tiny man was still unlocking the door and ran to the front desk. \n\n\"Please address your reason for being here sir\" said the very bored man sitting in front of Arnold eating radioactive donuts. \n\n\"I am Arnold Buttflinger and I am here to find my room for group W in the low rank minor power league of hero's, I... its my first time doing a mission.\"\n\nThe man had a grin on his face, probably because of the kids last name. He said in a very sarcastic tone \"wow you must be sooooo exited well your room is in oh let me see here... room number... room number...\" His eyes widened \"Room number -23.\n\nThe man gave the key card to the elevator to Arnold and said \"good day\".\n\n\"Uh good day to you too Mr. ... Brookfaulten\" Arnold said looking at his ID card.\n\nWalking to the elevator he wasn't discouraged all beginners probably start on this level Arnold thought to himself as he pressed the button that lead to his room. Exiting the elevator he found himself in a hallway that had a very worn couch, a bucket of water with paper cups next to it and a rusty old door leading to the meeting room. It had a W printed right on the door and said M.C.F.S.A on it.\n\n\"It must stand for mighty or masterful or or... \" Arnold questioned looking at the M. Then the door opened and a large muscular black man said in a low voice \"Minor... Minor is what it stands for. \n\nThe door was slammed shut and Arnold loomed down to the couch and sat down. He sat there for a while until it was 5 minutes until the meeting. \"Why minor\" he thought to himself was he that not important.\n\nEventually he got up and went in the room inside was a very fancy long table and 8 chairs. Each chair had people's names on it. He sat in the seat next to a really cute pink haired girl mainly just because it said Arnold on the seat. \n\nThe black man suddenly emerged from the shadows when the clock struck 7 and the meeting began. \"You are the M.C.F.S.A group number W. I am your leader and mentor. All of you have talents but your talents or powers as some may call it are not very good so here we are. These people are your team. You will need to get to know each and every one of them personally. While missions are taking place you will all sleep in the same home. We have given you all a 8 bedroom home to live in while operations are taking place so don't worry.\" The man turned on the projector above him on and put on a PowerPoint. \"These are your teammates.\n\n 1st we have James Madison who has the power to turn water into piss.\" The boy in the picture had black hair and black eyes he had a grin and was relatively tall. Also he sat on the opposite end of the table. And on a side note ew what was up with that ability.\n\n\"Next up we have Lilly Mallvert who has the power to make anything she puts in her mouth into a girly object such as dolls, makeup, shoes etc. This could be useful if you face of against someone with a weapon and you disarm him boom put it in her mouth and it is useless to them.\" The girl had pink hair and... wait she was the one next to Arnold. Also of course she would have a cute power to go along with her cute appearance. \n\nAs they went through all the people listed each one was pretty useless except a few. Eventually they got to Arnold though but Arnold couldn't stop blushing when they started talking for some reason.\n\n\"Last we have Arnold Buttflinger...\" a couple giggles came out of a few of the men in the group. \"His power is to turn into a girl. That's it, this can be used to go undercover in operations or I don't know other things I guess.\"\n\nThe three girls in the group had their eyes suddenly light up as if god just bestowed upon them someone they could talk to and explain things to at certain points in time which I guess was what they saw. \n\n\"Anyways today you will settle into your rooms and get to know each other until then so here are your key cards to the room and see you all tomorrow for your mission briefing.\n\nNote I may continue this on this thread if asked to but I'm thinking of starting this as a full series on my own where I will of course give credit back to this author. Anyways if anyone thinks that's a good idea I'll trust whichever idea gets more points or if no one likes this I'll just forget about it. Anyways thanks to the author of this thread for the prompt and I will see everyone later" ]	2
	[WP] Tired of all the death and aliens... Just write a mildly funny/light headed story please	[ "Max awoke one morning to find a box at the foot of his bed.\n\nIt had a label on it. In neat handwriting, it read:\n\n> To Henry;\n\n> From God.\n\nMax was fairly sure his name wasn't Henry, and he was fairly confident that a box at the foot of a person's bed was the standard manner of communication for infinite cosmic beings. Especially at the foot of the wrong person's bed.\n\nAfter a short period of self-doubt (his name was Max, wasn't it?) Max sat down and thought about his options. The all-powerful deity hadn't bothered to give the full details of 'Henry', and sure as hell hadn't put a return address. Max had a sneaking suspicion, though, that if there was a return address, it would simply read 'Heaven'.\n\nMax shrugged, and decided to open the box, pausing every few seconds just in case he was smote by lightning for daring to breach a holy vessel. No smiting forthcoming, he shrugged and ripped the box wide open.\n\nInside, there was a pair of stone tablets, with the numbers 11 through to 20 engraved them in bold, intimidating lettering.\n\nMax sighed. It was going to be a long day.", "Many people who have never been in a fight are really great at acting as if they are not scared. Ask any fighter at their most vulnerable and they will probably tell you that they are scared when they fight. Scared that they may critically injure their opponent or vice versa. The stage presence is a front, talking shit, waving your dick around, it's so you don't lose face in the public's eye. \n\nThat's my take anyways, on occasion you will eventually come across one or two bozos that actually believe they are invincible. Usually it's because they are tough opponents, and skilled naturally with no experience. Experience as my old teacher used to put it is the difference between knowing how hard to punch and knowing when not to punch at all. \n\nWhen you think about it violence is no different to animals than it is to humans. Fight or flight, predator or prey, that aspect will always remain true, if you corner a scared dog it will bite you because it has to. My first fight was a has to situation, I was terrified and my go to move was and still is one of shame.\n\nIt was fourth grade and my name was a target of ridicule for it's feminine quality and also rhyming with easily accessible words such as fairy and cherry. It only worsened when Jace Norris got involved, he liked my name so much I'm surprised he did not write it in bubble letters in his fucking notebook. \n\nJace became my own personal bully, day in and day out for two weeks straight I dreaded going to school. Him and his two socially retarded clones repeating verbatim every thing he would say like a cavern that just fucking followed him wherever. As you can tell I fucking hated this dude, so much that I seriously considered legally changing my name.\n\nIt was twenty five bucks a letter to change your name legally, an eight year old should not know that.\n\nAnyways, it got to the point where I decided I was not going to take it anymore the day before the asshole threw a dodgeball so hard at my fucking head that my ear started bleeding. I knew that if I let it continue things would get far worse, so on this particular day in class I decided I was gonna' fight the dick.\n\nTelling my friend did not help the situation he only told everyone else who was eagerly waiting for something to happen. The teacher got called out of the room and I knew it was coming, the opportunity for another ear flick as Jace naturally sat behind me in a fixed seating arrangement carefully chosen by Ms.Ellie.\n\nFlick, my ear stung and I stood up instinctively.\n\n\"Fuck off, Jace!\" I said heart almost leaping out of my chest at the surge of adrenaline flooding my body. I knew my face instantly turned red because I could feel the blood rush and surge through my body.\n\n\"Fuck you gonna' do about it?!\" he said standing to meet me.\n\nI had no clue what I was going to do about it, but there it was before I knew it was happening my foot flung back for a fifty yard field goal and let loose. The contact my light up Reeboks made with his pelvic bone will always haunt me. A dry thud padded by denim.\n\nThe whole classroom gasped and held their breath as Jace fell to the floor clutching what might have been left of his manhood. He gasped too but in a much more audible knocked the wind right out of me sort of way. \n\nIt only stunned him momentarily though because he got right the fuck back up and threw a haymaker directly at my nose. It busted and cut the tissue internally causing droplets of blood to stream from my nose. It made my eyes water, but for some reason it felt great and I giggled like a fuckin' lunatic. \n\nIf you were to ask the other kids what happened after that, some might tell you I was crying while beating the shit out of him. Truth was I was laughing because I did not expect to still be standing, and it surprised me into action. I tackled him to the ground and got two or three good hooks in before the teacher rushed in and grabbed me by the collar.\n\nThat is the day I fell in love with fighting, because it scared me, and because I wanted to know my limit. " ]	2
	[WP] Your favorite children's cartoon cast is all grown up (or significantly older) but still in the same line of work.	[ "My feet hurt, my eyelids grew heavy from lack of rest, and my unshaven beard is long enough to be feared at this point. The only thing I had eaten in two days was a cheese omelet from the French restaurant down the street. But none of that mattered, for tonight I finally did it.\n\nAfter losing my mother to breast cancer a decade back I devoted my life to a cure. So much of my adolescents had been spent developing frivolous technologies and gadgets. I never knew what my end game was back then, take over the world perhaps? Maybe I just did it all to prove to my life long adversary that he is the lesser scientist. The days of utilizing my superior intellect for childish rivalries are long past. \n\nTaking this job as a professor was just a means for funding. I don't mind teaching higher level biology, physics and chemistry, but it's far from my passion. Plus it saves the university money having one person head the whole science program. This provides me almost unlimited funding for my research and personal laboratory. \n\nAfter many years, sacrificing countless relationships, my work has finally paid off. My lab, wall to wall chalkboards filled with formulas, glass beakers and vials meticulously pieced together, is in an such pristine order that it alone should win me a nobel prize. The work put in to achieve this is so complex and convoluted I am not sure even I would be able to recreate it. Luckily I did not have to, all I had to do was make it this once for the final product. \n\nI had synthesized the cure to cancer. Tomorrow morning I will transcribe my formulas from chalkboard to infallible pen and paper and present it to the University along with this single vial, sure to change the world. But for now, I will sit here and empty my mind while drinking a single glass of Scotch I discretely brew in my office. The phone rings from the security desk out front, then the speakerphone begins to speak to me.\n\n\"Professor Dexter, your sister is here to visit you. I am just going to buzz her in.\"\n\nIt takes me a moment to realize what is happening. The security codes chime and the steel doors slide open, a blonde woman with large blue eyes and blonde pig tails skips recklessly inside.\n\nMy blood runs cold and panic rushes over me as she begins to carelessly touch and topple over the very first thing she sees, the only thing I can muster blurts out of me:\n\n\"DEE DEE, GET OUT OF MY LABORATORY!\"", "S: \"Like Fred...seriously, we know how this is gonna turn out, like why even bother, man?\"\n\nSD: \"Reah, Rred!\"\n\nF: \"We have to find out who's scaring everyone away, Shag!\"\n\nV: \"Jinkies, Fred, it's another guy in a mask! You know it, I know it, we all know it.\"\n\nF: \"But it could be a ghost, guys! This time it actually could be!\"\n\nD: \"But it won't be, Fred. They're right. Old Mr. Johnson is the guy. Think about, he has motive and opportunity.\"\n\nS: \"Like yeah, Fred. Why don't we like let the police do it this time? Like, I'm ready to skedaddle. You with me, Scoob?\"\n\nSD: \"Reah, Raggy. Ret's reraddle!\"\n\nV: \"I'm with you two, let's leave.\"\n\nF: \"Okay wait, guys! I have a confession.\"\n\nD: \"We're listening...\"\n\nF: \"Guys, I know it's old Mr. Johnson in a mask. I already know it.\"\n\nS: \"Then like what's the point, man?\"\n\nF: \"I...I like it.\"\n\nSD: \"Ro on...\"\n\nF: \"It's thrilling to me. It's...it's fun.\"\n\nV: \"We've had lots of fun over the years, Fred, but we're old now. We need to move on.\"\n\nF: \"But I can't move on...don't you see? It's the only way I can...\"\n\nD: \"Yes, Fred?\n\nF: \"What I'm trying to say is...\"\n\nV: \"Don't leave us hanging, Fred.\"\n\nF: \"It's just that...seeing those guys in their masks and then removing them...\"\n\nS: \"Like, out with it already, man!\"\n\nF: \"You see...that's my fetish.\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] It's 2073. We can now completely synthesize food and new "extreme vegans" have risen that won't eat anything that occurs naturally.	[ "\"I like my goop extra salty, not extra sloppy!\" Gorp was having a bad day today. Not only was the food synthesizer messing up his order, but he was also named Gorp, which impacted his daily life drastically. From when he was a little boy, when everyone else was called Twitter, Tumblr, Reddit, or Facebook (A short list of the most popular names). His parents, being extreme vegans, had named him after their ideology: eat only artificial substances with no natural ingredients. \"Sorry sir, won't happen again\" The synthesizer said as Gorp was brought back to reality. Gorp grabbed his lunch from the synthesizer and began his walk home. On the way, he saw some of the landmarks of the city: a giant hot dog named Tony (the city's mascot), a statue of the former dictator Floda Reltih, and the giant tower of the (Wo)Mann corporation. He entered his house with a stereotypical \"Mom, I'm Home!\" and walked into the kitchen. His mom was already eating her Green goop with a side of orange goop. \"Hi sweety, did the synthesizer confuse your order again?\" He groaned, \"Yeah that's why it took me over an hour, I had to keep arguing with it. It keeps mixing the food up with my name.\" He took out his lunch and looked at the package: \"XTRA SUGAR FOR DEVELOPING TEENAGERS, PACKED WITH AMAZING CARBOHYDRATES AND PROTEIN!\" However, what Gorp did not read when he looked at the package was the fine print, which read, \"Natural and artificial ingredients.\" Gorp and his mom ate their goop in silence, that is, until Gorp started writhing in his seat. \"Gorp! Honey what's wrong?!?\" His mom asked. Gorp just let out a moan as he continued to writhe, \"Muuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.\" His mom ran over to the other side of the table and looked at the box, \"Oh my 4Chan, he ate natural foods!\" She began to slap his face with no effect. This went on for several minutes until Gorp began coughing. Soon a pristine apple popped out of his throat, and he let out a dying shriek before making the full transformation into an apple tree.", "Damian brushed a stray dreadlock from his face and glared at the man in front of him in line at Wholest Foods. \n\n\n\"What an inconsiderate asshole,\" muttered Damian to his girlfriend, River. \"Doesn't he know that organic almond milk comes from almonds that are oppressed by the neo-agricultural industry?\"\n\n\nRiver nodded in agreement and hitched up her PsuedoHemp^TM jeans. Ever since she learned that all belts were at least 0.5% corn-derived, she refused to wear them. \n\n\n\"Exactly,\" said River. \"And on top of that, he's using a reusable cloth bag! Doesn't he know that the material used to make his bag is excised from innocent cotton plants. He's literally a murderer.\"\n\n\nRiver and Damian had recently converted to the Vegan-X lifestyle. To support all life on Earth, they vowed to never consume any good derived from a living organism. \n\n\nIn their Falso-Plasto shopping bags, they had with them a weeks worth of food: a jug of lithiomilk, EGS (fake eggs - an acronym for Embryos Genetically Shaped), happi-chicken (chicken meat grown on carbon-infused aluminum sheets), and of course, 50 packs of energy cubes. Energy cubes were all the craze that summer. Each cube contained one molar mass of each of the first 90 elements on the periodic table. \n\n\n\"We should tell him off,\" said Damian, wiping a bead of sweat from off his brow. \"Maybe some public humiliation will cause him to change his ways.\"\n\n\n\"Be careful!\" said River. \"You just wiped your bindi off your forehead. You don't want to lose your inner chakra today, friend.\"\n\n\nDamian began frantically searching for his bindi. He could immediately feel the lifeblood of his inner Self escaping through the stringy tendrils of his dreads. After two minutes of futile searching, he stormed over to the man in line. \n\n\n\"Namaste, dude. Do you know much pain you are causing Mother Earth today?\"\n\n\nThe man turned around. \"Excuse me?\" he said. \n\n\n\"Almond milk is made by beating thousands of almonds into a pulp, and then blending them until they scream out into liquid. Just for that single jug of almond milk in your hand, five thousand almonds were taken from their families and murdered - just so you can get your calcium in a \"fun\" way. Do you like contributing to genocide, brother?\"\n\nThe man looked flabbergasted. \"I...I had no idea,\" he said. A tear swelled at the corner of his eyes. \"I would never want to hurt anyone.\"\n\n\n\"It's okay, friend,\" said Damian. He reached in his bag, and pulled out an energy cube. \"Here, try an energy cube. River and I decided to buy some today and try them out. Apparently they have each of the first ninety elements of the periodic table in every bite. That way you can get your energy straight from like, the Big Bang, the way the Universe intended.\"\n\n\nThe man took the cube from Damian and took a bite. And then he died. \n\n\n\"Hm, that's weird,\" said River. \"Maybe we should spring for the organic energy cubes instead.\"" ]	2
Some dreams stick with us long after we're awake. Please write a story based on it, with as little creative deviation as possible from the memory.	[WP] A story from the earliest dream you can remember.	[ "It always started the same way. I would be standing in a field of tall grass that came up about half way to my knees. The sun is out shining as brightly as ever, and birds are flying in the sky. If I listen closely enough, I can even hear the crickets.\n\nOff in the distance, I see the little girl. She can't be more than five years old. She's wearing a black dress that has flowery patterns all over it. She's holding a glass of water in her right hand and a balloon in her left hand. Today, the balloon is red. It was green yesterday and blue the day before. She's whistling a happy tune while she's walking.\n\nBut that's when things dramatically change. The clear blue sky suddenly turns into a menacing blood red. The ground begins to shake violently. But the little girl is still whistling, oblivious to everything that is going on.\n\nFrom underneath the ground, a hideous monster claws its way out. Its body looks like a collection of intertwined pythons. It is covered in blood and it is going after the little girl.\n\nI try to shout to her. I have to warn her. But no matter how much I try to shout, nothing comes out of my mouth. I am confused. Why can't I say anything? I have no time to wonder about that, I think to myself. I have to save her. So I start to run. Or at least attempt to run. My legs feel like they're made out of lead and it takes every effort that I can muster to just get one leg in front of the other.\n\nIt's useless. Before I can take even a few steps, the beast has grabbed her. As she is grabbed and being lifted into the air, she drops the balloon and the glass. They both float away and shatter respectively in slow motion. Her scream is piercing. When she finally turns around to see what has happened, the beast doesn't hesitate. It doesn't even smile to acknowledge her fear. It simply opens its mouth to reveal its countless razor sharp teeth and it bites off her torso. As the beast chews, I can hear her bones crunching in her mouth.\n\nI fall to my knees, still trying to shout. Still nothing. I pound my fist into the ground. Why? Why is this happening again? As tears roll down my face, the monster's head turns around sharply and it glares at me. Its eyes are burning. It wants to kill me, too.\n\nThat's when I wake. My eyes open and I bolt right up. I'm covered in sweat.\n\n\"It's only a dream, honey,\" my mother tells me sweetly when I tell her about the same dream that I've had.\n\nBut I see that little girl every night. The only thing that changes is the color of the balloon.", "What's this room? I don't remember it being in this level, I thought as I moved my character into the conspicuous room. It was empty, save for a door which lead to another room, which was equally as empty.\n\nWeird, I thought. Then, the noise started. It echoed through the speakers, piercing my eardrums. I couldn't do anything to drown out the noise that never seemed to end.\n\nI slowly stretched out my hand to close the game window. It felt like an eternity before my finger reached the button and closed the game. But the sound didn't stop there. The piercing wail still vibrated through my speakers and into my eardrums. My wallpaper turned into emotionless, pale faces that looked like Victorian masks. The wail that seemed to emanate from those faces pierced my heart and mind.\n\nI reached down towards my CPU to shut down the computer once and for all. Once my finger hit the button, the wail instantly halted and a weight was lifted from me. Then, I noticed a disc in the disc drive. I didn't put one in. As I hit the eject button, my palms were wet with sweat. The disc slowly came out. Taking a closer look, I realised the image on the disc was the same Victorian wailing faces that were on my screen moments ago.\n\nAnd they were moving. They were wailing, just like on the screen. No sound came out, but the same wail pierced me, as if it were still ringing in my eardrums. The name of the disc, in an intimidating font, was the last thing I remembered. The Mask.\n\nI wake up, bed drenched in sweat. There are things you never remember, but there are things you never forget." ]	2
	[WP] Everyone received a number ranking them on their productivity to humanity. Every month they update. Today is April 1, yesterday you were number 1382947344, today you are number 2, right behind your 7 year old son with autism.	[ " April 1st, the first day of what we had come to call the \"effective quarter.\" The quarter of the year in which new ranks are handed out to the children born during the year. I watched my son play alone with some rocks. Packs of other children roamed the expanse of playground equipment and shaped field around the education center. My son sat alone, a symptom of his inability to communicate, let alone connect with, the other children. The dull tone chimed, signaling the end of morning energy release and the children began hustling toward the center. My son glanced at me one last time and then wondered toward the center himself. I turned away and began walking toward the fiscal district where work waited.\n Turning the last corner, I happened to see the ranking ceremony take place on the screen across the street on the edge of the entertainment district buildings. Seventy two new ranks were being given out to seventy two new citizens from 1 to 364 days old. \n I paused a moment, work could wait. That was the sole perk of being ranked greater than one billion but not above 4 billion, work didn't much care if you showed up as long as you're assigned task was completed by the deadline. My work was done yesterday.\n The children were laying, sitting, or standing in a line on screen. At exactly 10am, the children's uniforms all began to glow. A number was being etched remotely unto each. A few minutes later and the numbers were done, the highest read 236,542,987. Applause rose from the croud, and the proud parents swept their children away. It was all for show, the shirts were special for the occasion. In reality, a person's rank didn't matter after the first few years of school when a person's life plan was decided. No one bothered displaying it or even checking it after then, life became more important. Except, today was different.\n A violent vibrating from the assistant upon my wrist told me I had an important notification. Probably Zach from work wondering if I was staying home with my son again. I opened the Display. A world of images and data only I could see laced into my mind from the bionetwork emanating from the Assistant Wrist Mount System I wore upon my wrist. One notification. Violently gold, the utmost urgency, I had never seen it before.\n\"Your rank has been upgraded. You are now Number Two.\"\n My mouth opened slightly and my face hung in a stupified expression. What? Upgraded? No one's rank ever changed, it was assigned at birth. What was going on? Then the fear sat in. What did this mean for me? My son...\n I sleek black vehicle rolled around the corner and pulled up to me. No one I knew had a car. The city was so small, we walked everywhere despite the dividing presence of the roads between districts and buildings. A single stout, clean man in a grey tuxedo jumped out of the front passenger seat and opened to door for me, instructing me to get inside. I slowly stepped into the vehicle. Inside the vehicle was spacious and open, larger on the inside somehow. The effect was unnverving. My son sat in the seat beside me, looking at me in the silent pleading way he does when he doesn't understand something. I couldn't answer. Why was he here too?\n\"Hello, Mr. Derilict.\" I snapped to the man opposite us in the car. The chancellor. The man who unofficially controlled the Council who governed all of the Established Community of Human Nations. \"I'm here to retrieve you. It appears you and your son here have been upgraded. You may not understand as it rarely happens, but the top one hundred in the rankings aren't assigned at birht, they are upgraded from existing humans upon the death of the previous rank holder. I have bad news, the Imperium Legion has assassinated Lord Emena and his husband. The Community is without leadership.\" I couldn't process all this. It was insanity, the Legion was destroyed. The Lord was just on the screen he was watching... what happened... the only thing I could whisper was, \"what about my son and wife?\" The man blinked slowly and pondered a moment. Then, \"the good news is, your son was upgraded with you. He is the Number One. I don't know why you were both upgraded, but unfortunately, your wife was killed in a construction related explosion at the expansion site this morning. You need to come with me. The Legion may have infiltrated our system and gleaned the rankings. Your wife may have been killed. We need to leave.\" At that moment I realise we were already off planet. I didn't have a choice. My life had changed.\nWhat is going on...", "Before anything, there was the ranking system. The system ranked each person by how productive they were to humanity. It was something the government made with the dawn of civilization, but never released. Everyone was ranked, and white men didn’t dominate the top 100. They didn’t want to explicitly tell women and men that they were equal, or that all races were equal- so they didn’t. It was the best kept secret for years, until someone from the inside leaked the whole list. The country was outraged. People who were doctors and scientists were at the bottom of the list, some of the homeless population was on the top- the whole world order was changed overnight. \n\nPeople on the top of the list were praised as gods. They were brought to the castle, a now famous mansion that held the top ten most productive people. For all others, they were free to live however they wanted. Of course, your number signified your employment status, and relationship status, too. No one knew what the last number was, so anything under 5 billion meant social death. I, along with my son and husband were at a comfortable 1,382,947,344. My husband was about a hundred over me, my autistic son about a hundred under me. I was happy with our arrangement, as sometimes I went over my husband, sometimes he went over me, but never more than a few hundred. Henry seemed to always stay at 1,382,947,244, exactly. I always figured it was some weird thing with the system, but he was happy, and so were we. \n\nUntil April 1rst came around. Henry and I shot up from our billions to number one and number two. We were now the most productive people on the earth- with Henry above me. It wasn’t uncommon to be ranked below your child, so it wasn’t exactly a shock, but it still hurt. I didn’t understand it. My husband, Bill, was still in the billions. He didn’t shoot up with us. What didn’t make sense was the fact that Henry and I didn’t do anything differently than usual the past month. And now all of a sudden we’re one and two?\n\n“It’ll be okay, Jack. I’m sure you two will be back home next month. Get me some souvenirs while you’re up there, okay?” My husband tried to console me. But I was still extremely anxious about the whole thing. What do they do to them up there? No one ever questioned it, and once a new number one was picked, the old one was forgotten. \n\n“Yeah,” I replied, trying to convince myself. I was worried enough about myself, but what about Henry? His whole routine will be disrupted, and he’ll have to start over for this entire month. The consistency of his ranking kept him pretty calm- this would ruin him. A knock on the door interrupted my train of thought. \n\n“Mr. Jack Renning? You’ve seen the report. Please gather your things, along with Henry, and let’s go.” A gruff voice vibrated through the closed door. I knew that it’d be quick, so I had packed up everything beforehand. \n\n“Yes, we’re coming. Henry is-“\n\n“Open the door, sir.” I followed the command, and a burly man stepped right in, and grabbed Henry and I. Henry protested, but the man just shushed him, throwing us both into the backseat of his van. We drove for a long time. The seatbelts around us clacked against the metal of the van, and the man had some sort of classical music playing. Why were the two most important people in the world being treated so badly? I didn’t understand. Finally, we stopped.\n\n“Out.” The man commanded, and we followed obediently. Around us was desert, with a small house about 20 yards away. It was a comfortable temperature, sure, but it was the desert. There was nothing around here for miles. “This is your home for the next few days. Do not try to escape. Do not try to make contact with others. Either of these actions will be handled with early extermination.”\n\n“Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what’s happening. I thought we went to some sort of mansion? I don’t mean-“\n\nHe cut me off with a hearty laugh. “I can’t believe they still feed you that bull! No! You don’t get a mansion, you get this house. One word, my man. Overpopulation. You think the government would rate people on their productivity, and then actually release that list? Nuh-uh. This is the kill list- the computer picks for us. It’s based on a lot of factors, but it’s mostly random.”\n\n“What?” That was all I could get out, horrified by this news. The government had been killing people randomly to stop overpopulation?! And ranking them, making them believe that the more productive they are, the more accepted they’d be- just to randomly throw them to the bottom, or to the top, to be killed?\n\n“I know, I know. It’s pretty messed up. I saw my own sister thrown in this hell-hole. And before you ask, yes, I am heartless. Yes, I am a psycho, and yes, I enjoyed seeing her die. We’re the only kind of people they could trust to hire.” He revealed, reveling in my horror. Henry screamed. I cried. And he laughed, he just stood there and laughed.\n\n“Pick your poison- or not,” he chuckled, presenting an array of weapons, including vials and syringes. “We let the top two choose their way to go, the rest just get a surprise. You don’t have to pick right now, we like to make the others jealous. We have a few days for them to come. You stay here, until you don’t.” \nI couldn’t move a muscle. There was no way out of this. There was no way to save Henry. I just stood there. \n\n“Ooookay. I guess you’re choosing later, then. I’d suggest getting to the house. But it doesn’t matter to me when you die.” And with that, the man turned back to the van, got in, and started it. He revved the engine, did a doughnut, creating a storm of sand, and drove away. \n\nBy the time he was gone, I was on my knees, and Henry stood by me, frozen. \n\nThey were going to kill us. That was a fact. I needed to save my son. That was another fact, and I’d do anything to make that happen. I took a deep breath, and got up. I need to save Henry. I wiped the sand off of my pants, and took Henry to the house. \n\nIf I was going to die, it would be protecting him.\n" ]	2
	[WP] "Oh, but she doesn't need a mask." Turning towards her, "You're already wearing one", he smiles.	[ "\"Oh, fuck you,\" I snarled at him. \"Not all of us were born with all of our parts.\" He furrowed his brow, almost fired back some indignant reply, then turned on his heel, friends in tow.\n\nLife was a shitshow. Not only was I born without a left arm - it stopped at the elbow - I was missing my right eye. I wore a partially medial partially decorative mask to try and hide the ugly surgical scars.\n\nI turned back to my drink, prosthetic hanging limply from my shoulder. The taste had long since filtered from my mouth, and I was already too drunk, but night after night of humiliation drove me into a funk I couldn't escape from.\n\nMaybe another drink would help me forget why I was here. But it's so frustrating - I was an aspiring author. And all of my writing ends up being some loosely fitting allegory of my life, no matter how boring and railroaded the prompt is. Prompt calls for a mysterious lady with no morals? Too bad, you're getting an angry drunk cripple. ", "The man pushed past your friend ripping the small mole, thought only to a birth mark, from your face. \n\nYou cry out in pain. The blood begins to pour but gravitates towards the centre of your face, a metallic bundle of bubbling mess floats in place while it calms itself out with an ever intensifying spin. It began to slow, the man in the jeans and stripped shirt looked on in awe as he studied the reaction of your body. Your eyes begin to strain from looking centre for way to long.\n\nFinally the sphere stops spinning, and indicates a journey to your face. It touches your nose.\n\n\"First the nose\" the man says \"Lifeline of the entire body, used to absorb the essence of the air\"\n\nThe ball begins to mould around your nose travelling into your nostrils, stopping when the pressure and pain begins. A small look of relief is flicked off with the man's next statement. \"Don't think you have any control because it stopped, it is your blood after all. That being said, it's your heart and you don't tell it to beat.\"\n\nThe liquid metal, no, not the best way to describe it. Liquid metal is hot, this was lukewarm and it cracked as it moved.\n\n\"Don't worry about that. The transition or the process will become much more smooth over time\" He laughed.\n\nThe metal cracked as it repeated the process with your mouth, stopping in the gullet when the pain became to much. You felt sick at the thought of the next movement. Like a terrible insect it reached your eyes. Luckily it circled them, the process was completing itself and it felt most satisfying the more it filled out your face.\n\nYou fell to your knees as a small circle of darkness surrounded your eyes, limiting your eyesight around you but some how focusing it. An intense feeling of natural ambition like a crazed animal using its claws for the first time. \n\nYour face felt no different, though you yourself felt amazing. The mask was complete.\n\n\"What is this mask?\" you asked, shaking with excitement.\n\nHolding out his hand, he caressed a line of words he had clearly said a thousand times \"Its not a mask you've put on, its a mask you've taken off\" ", "\nThere were five of us sitting in the room. We were being briefed, it wasn’t the first time I had done this. The target: an Italian Villa on Pompeii, rumored to have one a large, priceless collection of art. Works of Van Gogh, Rembrandt and Monet, pieces by Salvador Dali that had never seen the light of day. Picasso, and Kahlo, locked up, hidden from the eyes of the world. Of course, I didn’t care about this. Art was just art. It didn’t help me until it needed to be relieved from its current owners. When that couldn’t be done legally, I was called on. I thought I knew all the players in the game, at this level in the black market you don’t know anyones names, what their faces look like, or their family. But, you know the real them. You know how they react under pressure. You’ve depended on each other when you're lives are on the line. There is honor among criminals, especially those of us that serve together like soldiers.\n\t\n\tMovies would have you think we vied for the greatest heist, all we really want is to do the job as cleanly as possible while not dying. Then take our cut, and disappear. But the one who called us together, who was hosting this Who’s-Who of the underground art theft world was an unknown entity. Who did he represent? Could he be trusted? I was known as Athena, the tactical warrior. My specialty was planning heists and, when my plans went wrong, slitting throats. Acrobat turned to me,”do you think we can trust this guy? I don’t like it, this sounds all wrong. Too much money. I mean, for that fee we could be breaking into Fort Knox.”\n\nI replied “The fact that he was able to even access us all means this is fuckin’ real. You ever seen Vet actually listen during the presentation? You ever seen Key hold his hand up to ask a question about the security measures?”\n\nThis seemed to satisfy Acro. He was quite a character. He was born missing one spinal cord, and had an unnatural flexibility. Vet, pretty self explanatory. He was a soldier. Served in Vietnam. Got picked up by the CIA. He’s overthrown democratically elected republics the world over. He says he couldn’t take it anymore, so he ran off. But he can’t live on the grid, lest the CIA return to him with some questions then throw him out of an airplane. So now he runs Special Op for art thieves.\n\nKey’s brow furrowed at something our host said. I had never seen that before. He broke in, “I’m sorry you said there are multiple Big Brothers? And a… how many tons is the door? Do you know what it would require to get through that door? And even if we could the Big Brothers would have gotten plenty footage of us, and alerted the security measures. I assume you’d like to avoid that.” He looked like an emo Mark Zuckerberg, with his hilarious Guy Fawkes mask. I think he wore it partly ironically, partly so people would underestimate him, and of course it was made of a material that did not come out on clearly on security cams.\n\nOne of us had said nothing up to this point. His name was not eponymous like ours, but a toast to all those who have escaped what they were not meant too. Prisons, poverty, drugs, death. Sutton, after a famous prison escape artist. He was shrouded in the dark corner of this room, only a pockmarked wrist, covered in an italian silk shirt, from which a dark hand emerged, loosely holding a Sherman cigarette. 20 dollars a pack, hand rolled in New York. The sort of vice only someone who hates living and their money, but needs to make money and live well to prove to their past child-selves who were always told they would be nothing, beaten down but refusing to give up, preferring bitter success to easy failure. He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the venetian carpet, stifling the spark from it with a stamp from his bespoke shoe.", "She stood there shocked, never in a million years had she imagined the interview going like this. The ad simply said \"Assistant needed,\" and paid a rather spectacular amount per hour. He had turned his back to me very early on in the interview. There was a glass of water on the table. This interview however seemed to be more of an interrogation. The questions all seemed hostile. To break the intensity she tried to make a joke. \n\n\n\"So, this isn't a 50 Shades of Grey type assistant position is it? I won't end up wearing some leather mask will I?\"\n\n\nHe replied \"Oh, but she doesn't need a mask,\" he turned towards her, \"she's already wearing one.\" \n\n\nHer voice quivered \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\n\"You wear the mask of decency my dear,\" he replied.\n\n\nShe was stunned. The man continued.\n\n\n\"I will not continue to lie to you my dear. I'm the killer the newspaper talks about. These job interviews are how I've gotten my victims, and you're the next. But before the poison from the water you drank kicks in, I would like to talk. You wear a mask of decency, you pretend to care about people and you pretend to be ethical. You go home and sit and watch tragedies on the news as if it's a sitcom. You sit there with your buckets of popcorn and endlessly watch human rights decay. These very same news companies talk about my being inhuman and me being a monster. But who is the real monster, me for shedding the blood of my victims, or you and the rest of society for shedding the blood of decency with your television sets and absolute unceasingness towards humans. You all wear a mask of decency my dear, I simply have shed mine.\"\n\n\nThe woman's head hit the table, she had died, his monologue being the last words she heard. The man stood up, and began to drag her body away. \n" ]	4
	[WP] You wake up in the last saved position/checkpoint of your favourite video game.	[ "I turn over in the bed and see Kate is still sleeping. I quietly roll out of the bed, but by the time my feet touch the ground Kate is already up and right behind me. “Lovely night, eh” she says in that sexy thick Irish accent that first grabbed my heart. “Nothing like a lover’s embrace to start the day,” I reply with a huge smile on my face. \n\n“What are we doin’ today love?” Kate asks. “Well, I promised the MacCready I’d help him with a special assignment today,” I say with a sly smirk on my face. “He asked if we could stop by The Third Rail to see him.” I had barely gotten the words out my mouth before Kate grabbed me and kissed me hard. She looked me right in the eye and said “The only thing better than getting pissed is starting a fight…I think we can manage both there.” I laughed and said “Well as long as it’s not like that bar we went to that was owned and operated by robots. What was it called again?” “Ahh, I forget love, but we were right pissed that night,” she said laughing as well. “I still have no idea how you pissed off the robots so much that they tried to kill us. Good thing I hadn’t drank nearly as much as you did, who knows if we would’ve made it out,” I said slightly sincerely. “Well at least the drinks were free,” Kate said while winking.\n\nWe started making our way across the wasteland, few words passing between us as we learned fairly early that discretion was the better part of valor. We made it into Goodneighbor with no significant problems. It was late when we got in as we had to travel all the way from Sanctuary on foot. I’d have called for a Vertibird pickup if I didn’t find out about the Brotherhood of Steel coercing settlements around the Commonwealth into giving up a portion of their crops. I couldn’t stomach working with people that claimed to work for the benefit of the very people they threatened. I was sure they would get theirs in time. \n\nIt doesn’t matter how late you get to The Third Rail, the place was always in swing. Kate and I went through the door and Ham just waved us on through. “I’m gonna go grab a drink from Whitechapel,” Kate said, kissing me on the cheek. “Go on baby, I’ll be right there, I’ve got some business to attend to,” I said, preparing myself to meet with the hired gun, MacCready. \n\nI moved into the backroom I knew he’d be at, his type didn’t like to advertise their whereabouts too loudly, but ask them for a favor and they’d give you a price. In this case, he’s the one that had a favor to ask of me. Some of his old allies had it out for him. He wanted to stack the deck in his favor, which was a smart move when dealing with the Gunners.\n\nHe gave me the rundown on two targets, Winlock and Barnes, whom were leaders in the Gunner hierarchy and very dangerous men with plenty of subordinates to use as cannon fodder. MacCready offered me 200 caps to complete the job. “Hmm, I’m not sure it’s worth 200 caps to infiltrate a Gunner base and take out the whole camp. That’s the only way I’m going to even see these guys, everyone dies or they’ll just keep coming. MacCready clinched his teeth together and grumbled “I’ll give you 250 caps for the job.” “Sounds like we have a deal,” I said with a smile on my face as we shook hands.\n\nWith the deal done I figured I could start enjoying what was left of the night with Kate at the bar. On the way there I saw a beautiful woman in a red dress on stage. She looked me right in the eye as I entered the room and in the sweetest singing voice sang out, “I said I need a favor, I'm a little short on caps but I'm a good, good neighbor,” and she cast a wink right at me. I was paralyzed for a minute by her stunning display on stage, but that’s when Kate threw her arm around me, playfully slapping me on the face saying “don’t get any funny thoughts love,” as she handed me a beer while laughing.\n", "(Dark Souls: PtDEdition)\n(Direct quote of the opening cutscene's dialogue)\n\"In the Age of Ancients the world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of gray crags, Archtrees and Everlasting Dragons. But then there was Fire and with fire came disparity. Heat and cold, life and death, and of course, light and dark. Then from the dark, They came, and found the Souls of Lords within the flame. Nito, the First of the Dead, The Witch of Izalith and her Daughters of Chaos, Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights. And the Furtive Pygmy, so easily forgotten.\n\nWith the strength of Lords, they challenged the Dragons. Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales. The Witches weaved great firestorms. Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease. And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own, and the Dragons were no more.\n\nThus began the Age of Fire. But soon the flames will fade and only Dark will remain. Even now there are only embers, and man sees not light, but only endless nights. And amongst the living are seen, carriers of the accursed Darksign.\n\nYes, indeed. The Darksign brands the Undead. And in this land, the Undead are corralled and led to the north, where they are locked away, to await the end of the world... This is your fate.\n\nOnly, in the ancient legends it is stated, that one day an undead shall be chosen to leave the undead asylum, in pilgrimage, to the land of ancient lords, Lordran.\"\n\nThis is my fate... Cursed with having to extend the Age of Fire... Or to usher in the Age of Darkness.\nI gaze down at my body, noting the Darksign emblazoned on my left hand. \n\nI am Undead.\n\nSlowly standing, I take a look at my reflection in a pool of standing water - checking to see if I am as mummified as the Chosen in the game.\n\nI hear a rustle above me, and Oscar drops the key to my cell. It lands just in front of me, disturbing the still water. The ripples snap me out of my stunned stupor.\n\nThe key is picked up, the wrought iron being cold to the touch. It fits into the keyhole, as expected. I swing the door open and walk down the narrow corridor, moving past the Hollows as quietly as I can. My hands wrap their way around my body, it's freezing down here. I make my way to the courtyard, where I expect to find a bonfire, left to be stoked with the last little bits of Humanity I have.\n\nIt's gone.\n\n'What? This isn't right. What's going on?' are the unexpressed thoughts that come to mind, unable to vocalise as my mind is running through the possibilities.\n\nIf I die... Am I gone? Kaput? Do I get to go back home?\n\nDo I even want to go home?\n\nNo matter. I must continue, for going hollow, to lose my mind...\n\nNever.\n\nWith a calming breath, I open the large doors to the Asylum Demon. I look up, and see the Demon on the roof, before me. Looking around, the door is still to my left - I can escape as the Demon jumps down. I've only a broken sword, grasped tightly in my hand. Naked, afraid, armed only with a broken weapon.\n\nIn I walk, confidently. I watch the demon jump down, and its impact makes the floor quake. I somehow stay on my feet as I charge towards the door on my left, it somehow opening on the demon's leap down. As I exit, I glance back at the demon. It's staring at me through the gate, its visage grinning at me. \n\nNo bonfire here, either. Figures.\nThe next corridor has the Hollow wielding a bow. Some things never change.\nI duck into the small room to my left, a corpse has a rectangular metal shield, handle made for my hand - it's my shield.\n\nAn orange glow envelops my field of view - it's a message. It reads,\n\n\"Good luck.\"\n\n...I'm screwed.\n\n\n(Notes: First writing prompt! Also, yes, I own a shield. I fight in the Society for Creative Anachronism, or SCA. Look it up on youtube. Pretty fun stuff.)" ]	2
	[WP]A time traveler decides to become a deli owner. A shaken young man comes to their deli for a sandwich. It's June 28th, 1914 in Sarajevo.	[ "I failed at being a hero in the future, Michael Carter thought to himself. I came back to the past to escape that failure. I couldn't become famous - I was a terrible hero - is this destiny calling? Michael started to sweat.\n\nIs this my redemption?\n\nHe pulled out a shiny and whimsical object. Hidden from view beneath the deli counter, Michael aimed the device at the young man.\n\nI wonder.\n\nThe was a loud bang at the front door. A commotion - the Archduke's motorcade was passing by. The young man glanced over, startled, and jumped forward.\n\nRegrettably, this caused our hero to miss his shot.\n\n\"Shit!\" Michael exclaimed, raising his weapon for a second try. The young man glanced over his shoulder at Michael and dove to the ground. A woman outside screamed. The cafe burst into motion.\n\n\"For heaven's sake! What happened to you!\"", "Let me start by saying that I can’t tell you the future. I can tell you what the future was, but that’s not real useful. I can’t tell you much about the past either – nothing that you couldn’t read in a history book for yourself at least. There is one thing I can tell you though. If you ever build a time machine, make sure that the fuel source is something that was possible to synthesise before the 23rd century. Either that, or don’t be stupid enough to jump back to nineteenth century Europe.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI was stupid. And now I’m stuck on the slow road from 1878 to whenever I bite the dust. It’s not so bad. My augmentations protect me from the worst of what the era can offer. I wish I could help my unaugmented ancestors. It’s tough to watch men shrivel away to wrinkled husks in no more than sixty or seventy years. There’s not much chance of fixing that though. Without a link to the global net I’ve got about as much chance of reverse engineering my augmentations as I do of refuelling the machine that brought me here. That’s another tip for any aspiring travellers out there – you can’t uplink to the neural net if you holiday in an era before it was invented.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nAt first I acted like a tourist, ticking off all the sights and events I could remember without a reference. It turned out that wasn’t anywhere near as many as I’d hoped. Guess I always just took it for granted that the information would be out there to download. I wasn’t a very good tourist anyway. Let’s just say that the 1800’s didn’t suit my delicate constitution.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nSo I did what anyone does when they’re sick of travelling and can’t get home. I tried to create a new home for myself. Sarajevo seemed like the natural place to go. I spoke the language and, even with a few hundred years between us, I hoped that I might blend in with the local culture. I set up a little delicatessen and made a modest little life for myself. Months turned into years and years turned into decades. It was lonely, but more than tolerable.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI never imagined trying to change history. It frightened me to even consider the hubris it would take to want to play god like that. Then one Summer’s day, temptation came knocking at my door.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe young man who took shelter in the entryway of my shop was utterly unremarkable. I turned a blind eye to his loitering. It wasn’t as if I had customers pounding down my door this early in the day, nor did I have anything in the cash drawer to worry about him stealing at this hour.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI’m sure you’ve realised by now that I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, what with getting myself stranded and all. Well, let me prove it again. I saw the glint of a weapon in his coat. Unlike anyone with half a brain, I decided to shout at him for bringing such a thing into my shop. I deserved to be shot. I wasn’t though. When he turned around his saucer-like eyes showed more fear than I’d even thought of feeling for my own life.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“Please, don’t turn me into the authorities,” he hissed in a desperate whisper.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“Why shouldn’t I?” I shot back without a moment’s attention given to the fact I was threatening an armed man with nothing but breadsticks and sandwiches to defend myself.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“You are a Serb, are you not?” he asked. My accent often threw people off, but his ears were sharp enough to pick out the similarities between my accented German and his even over the gulf of a few centuries.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“Yes. So are a lot of people in this city. What’s it to you?”\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“I am only carrying this weapon as a means to kill our oppressor,” he said with a nod back towards Appel Quay. He didn’t need to tell me that he was referring to the archduke and his parade.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“I don’t care. You don’t belong in my shop. Throw the gun away and get the hell out of here. I don’t want any trouble around here no matter what you believe in.”\n\n&nbsp;\n\nTo my surprise he readily pulled the gun out and dropped it into the bin by the door. The young man visibly relaxed as he did. The cruel, steel thing had been weighing him down. He positively scrambled out the door to escape it.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nEven I wasn’t foolish enough to leave a pistol in my trash can. Doubly so when tensions had been running so high in the city lately. As I carried the bin out the back to dispose of its contents my mind started to drift. The stories my grandmother told me as a child came back unbidden. They always had a similar theme. The suppression of our culture, the purge of our icons, the dwindling minority of Serbians who could even speak their traditional mother tongue nowadays. No matter the topic, every story my grandmother had ever told ended with the same moral; that it was their fault. The Greater Austrian Federation. And even with the office of emperor long gone, she never let us forget that it had all started with Archduke Ferdinand and his overtures to France in the 1920s. The very same Archduke Ferdinand who just so happened to be approaching my delicatessen in his motorcade while I held an automatic pistol just outside of arm’s reach. An evil idea began to hatch inside my head. Maybe the future wasn’t written in stone." ]	2
Or wall, singular.	[WP]Just include the sentence: "It came through the walls."	[ "######[](#dropcap)\n\nThe first sign was the flickering of the lights, the candles guttering in their holders. \n\nNo one paid it heed, errant drafts a common thing in a vast castle such as this one. Instead the hostess motioned for a guard to shut the door, the robed figure doing so, sliding the wooden door closed. Hilary Flint sat in a discreet corner, his sword sitting sheathed across his lap. He had switched from Elvish court robes to something more comfortable at Faith's insistence; she seeing how the layers and folds had made him uneasy. He wore a knit tunic and broadcloth trousers tucked into stout boots of brown leather, a homemade cloak of green and white pinned 'round his neck by a silver brooch. \n\nFaith was having tea with an old acquaintance, the pair having not seen each other in nearly a decade; a pittance in the lifespan of an immortal Fae. Both had changed from court dress and into pleasure wear, which to Flint's oblivious eyes merely meant two or three less layers and a great deal less finery. The two young girls conversed and laughed, and discussed gossip and politics; who was wooing who, who made a deft and scathing insult at the morning's poetry contest and who would be the likely catch of the Winter Court. Flint ignored it all, focusing his ears on the sound of the cardinals singing outside, the noise of the servants moving about their duties, the still guards standing outside in the hall...\n\nHilary Flint frowned and rose from his seat, clutching his sword by the scabbard. Faith ignored him, used to his strange and in her mind erratic nature. But he knew one didn't live long as a mercenary without a keen sense of self-preservation...\n\nThe door slid along its fitted channel, the lightweight design whisper quiet. Flint glanced down the hall, spying the three guards standing at attention at the top of the stairs. He then glanced the other way, towards the other suites. Nothing. He was about to chide himself and slide the door shut when a dreadful realization washed over him.\n\nThere were only two guards there before...\n\nJust as he was to shout alarm, one of the guards moved, spinning to his left and throwing something towards Flint. He ducked, the sound of sharp steel sinking into the wooden post behind him.\n\n\"Son of a bitch. Assassin! Alar-\" \n\nHis warning was cut short as a dagger tried to find his throat, only a desperate leap back saving his life. Flint lashed out with his sheathed sword, the scabbard cracking his assailant's skull. He fell like a sack of wet grain, giving Flint just a moment to examine his attacker. \n\nHe wore the blue and white armor of the Alathir Clan, its owl reminiscent of that of the ancient city-state of Athens, but he looked nothing like a High Elf. His features were sunken and sallow, evidence of malnutrition or hunger. His teeth were filed into narrow points like a sharks. \n\nA cry from inside the room tore Flint away from his observations, the veteran warrior rushing inside the suite to see two more assassins, these clad in dark blue. Faith's friend had already retreated into the opposite corner, knocking over a low tables and spilling tea and sweets all over the carpet. Faith to her credit tried to rise, the long drooping sleeves of her robes interfering with her efforts at repelling her attackers. The two assassins sensed this and moved forwards, daggers and short swords held at the ready. \n\n\"Dogs!\" Flint shouted, unsheathing his sword and rushing between his charge and her assailants. He leveled the broad blade at the dark garbed killers. \"You know this blade!?\"\n\nThat seemed to check them, their slitted pupils narrowing at the sight of his black sword. \n\n<\"The blade of the betrayer!\"> one hissed.\n\n<\"In the hands of a Scathalaith! \"> the other echoed. \n\n<\"Aye, I wield it; the blade belongs to me. If you want it, come and take it.\">\n\nFlint didn't wait for them to attack, leaping over the toppled table and slashing at one of them with great sweeps of his sword. The agile assassin ducked under the attack, rolling towards the wall that he might catch Flint in the back. Flint didn't let that happen, kicking the broken table with the heel of his boot and catching the leg of his assailant. Flint heard something break, the assassin shrieking in its black tongue as its comrade redoubled its efforts. He placed Flint on the defensive, his twin daggers probing and stabbing for any weak point in the human's guard. Flint parried them all albeit barely; one whistled past his ear, and he caught his own reflection in the steel as it was drawn back. \n\nA gust of fire told him that Faith had finally gotten free of her robes, a desperate cry proof that Flint's wounded foe had more pressing issues than a mere broken leg. It was the second assassin's turn to be forced back, his initial burst of speed no match for Flint's greater endurance. The Fae seemed to realize that and tried to run, only to find his escape blocked by incoming reinforcements. Out of options and out of time he did exactly what Flint feared. \n\n\"Death to the False Gods and their followers! Glory to the Everchosen!\"\n\nWith that he stabbed his knife deep into his throat, slashing the wicked sharp blade about to sever his arteries. Flint swore. \n\nJust then did more guards arrive, familiar faces to Flint that paused to take in the sight of two slain killers and a mortally wounded one. \n\n\"Just what in the gods' names happened here?\"\n\nFlint shrugged, wiping the worst of the gore off his face with a sleeve. \n\n\"Sword practice,\" he merely said. ", "The moss is clawing at me. Closer every second. It came through the walls and now is onto the floor and the ceiling of just about every house in the country. No one knows what it is but anyone who touches it feels a slight sting and then dies. Just falls to the floor and doesn't get up. I stare at it longingly. I have been struggling with depression for the last couple of years, haven't talked to a real person in months, haven't fell the touch of anyone for longer that's for sure. So I stare at it longingly, wondering what to do, no one will miss me except the landlord who will just miss the rent. I think back on my life, the laughs I've had, or rather the lack of them. I need to touch it. And so I do. The sting? Check. The death? Not check. I touch it again. Nothing. I lie down in it. It speaks to me like no one ever has. It made me feel wanted. It promised me happiness but with one request. As The moss engulfs my hand. I know what I must do." ]	2
	[WP] Tell the story of a thief who steals a Kindle , thinking it to be an iPad, and begins reading, curiously at first and then voraciously.	[ "Christopher sat in the Quad of his campus feeling the insistent rumblings of his stomach. Hunger pains plagued him thoroughly and he couldn’t focus his thoughts properly anymore. The loss of his job had hurt his finances enough to hurt his stomach. It wasn’t enough that his mother used all of the money collected from his dad’s life insurance to get him registered for classes. It wasn’t enough that she worked double shifts as an RN to pay for him to live on this very campus. He couldn’t let her down, his love for his mother was his driving force in everything he did, and in everything he was. It wasn’t enough that try as he might Christopher just couldn’t make it across town after his Tuesday and Thursday political science classes fast enough to be as punctual as his manager would’ve liked. It just wasn’t enough.\n\nHe sat in the quad and refreshed the inbox to his e-mail every 15 seconds, hoping for a new job offer. Hoping for any shred of decent news really. He sat back in his chair and tilted his head toward the sky as he took a deep breath. The azure sky calmed him as he exhaled slowly and steadily in an attempt to ease his stress. His stomach rumbled ever more violently in the wake of more air sloshing in with the distinct lack of nutrient to follow it. \n\nChristopher watched the other students, their jovial expressions as some joked among small groups. Some cast off in isolation, alone at a corner table with headphones tightly affixed to their ears, they weren’t even here. He saw a group of young women chattering idly, gathering books and personal belongings as they began to leave the quad. One of the women was particularly upset, as she sounded off on her boyfriend’s infidelity yet again and how she couldn’t believe he had gotten with so and so. Christopher noticed she left her iPad behind, and being the upstanding character he was couldn’t help but try to get her attention in regards.\n\n“Miss! Miss!” he yelled towards her. She looked in his direction with an upturned nose and exaggerated scowl, answering promptly with a derisive, “Umm, no I’m not interested, don’t even think about talking to me.” She turned and begun to walk faster with her friends out of the quad before Christopher could utter another word. Her friends saying “I can’t believe he was trying to hit on you! O-M-G! He wasn’t even cute.”\n\nChristopher couldn’t believe the insult he now suffered on top of the pain he already felt. This moment, like so many others in his life, he had just wanted to do the right thing. Fuck her, he thought as he smoothly walked past the iPad and clutched it to his chest, I’ll just take this and sell it for some quick cash, at least this way I’ll be able to eat later. He quickly exited the quad himself for fear that the woman would notice the tablet missing and come looking for it. \n\nHe stole away to a quiet corner to examine his new find. He let out another deep sigh as he realized that this wasn’t even an iPad she had left behind, it was a kindle with a white cover. He groaned softly as he let this information settle, only his stomach acknowledging his plight. He opened the Kindle to see what was on it, perhaps she had downloaded a text book that he could sell the kindle as, if she even actually read any of the texts she was assigned. \n\nUpon pulling open the Kindle its back light went on and words appeared almost instantly on the screen with no input from Christopher. It was an article from a nearby hospital that spoke of the grueling hours and low pay the nursing staff had. How they couldn’t even get proper medical supplies being an under-funded major hospital in a low-income yet high crime area. The nurse they had interviewed was his mother.\n\n“When I first came to the hospital I saw Anita caring for a patient, and she sat with him and took care of him like he were her own. After walking the floor and observing for many hours all the different levels of staff and what they had to go through on a regular basis, I chose to do my article on Anita due to her diligence on the floor and the way she zipped around from patient to patient while here. I asked her what made her work so hard for so little. Why weren’t there more nurses that could help her? Though she was clearly exhausted this was her answer, ‘I do what I have to in order to get my son through school. He works just as hard as I do and together we help each other stand, just like the few nurses you see here. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my son or these nurses, because they know how to do the right thing.'”\n\nTears welled up in Christopher’s eyes. His mind reflected on something his mother told him a long time ago, about how even if someone didn’t deserve your kindness you never let them take it away from you, because then they would’ve succeeded in making you less than you are. He knew even this instance of ridicule and pain shouldn’t be enough to break him. He stood and slowly walked in the direction he had seen the group of women go in, hoping to be able to hand back the kindle with few words.\n", "When you trade kicked for kicks, \n\nStave off the steeple and yearn for corners, \n\nYou grow shadows.\n\nEmpty heads, empty pockets. \n\nWhen he took the tablet, \n\nHe thought it was his way towards cash,\n\nWalking the line between truth and hard lies, \n\nHe needed something to feed his dog belly. \n\nIt was a flame, Kindled. \n\nBooks on economics bored him,\n\nBut the simple stories, \n\nMade for a child, \n\nDownloaded for a friendless midnight. \n\nHe read about hunger, and games, and death.\n\nHe read until he found himself really thinking, \n\nThinking about the way his mother looked, \n\nTowards the empty framed walls, \n\nFor the diploma he did not have.\n\nHe yearned, like one does for the electric touch of reality,\n\nTo be better." ]	2
	[WP] After that she moved to the desert and only drank juice..	[ "It was wet. Everything around her was wet; it wasn't just water it was denser, heavier. She was stuck in a giant sugar-free jello all because she wanted to flee her sorority. This was hour fifteen and her diabetes was starting to make her nauseus. They'd thrown all kinds of things at her- insulted every action she has ever taken. It would all be worth it though- Alpha Gamma Row girls always got their man and their job. Six of the last seven presidents went on to lead a hospital department, make millions and marry a man either running a city or a hedge fund. She would own a portion of the world, if she could just last a little longer.\n\nMassie, the president this year, came tumbling down the stairs, \"what's up Sugar, how ya doing? Oh, sorry I probably shouldn't mention that word to a diabetic.\"\n\n\"I'm good. Four more hours and I'll be good.\"\n\n\"We've decided to extend that a bit actually...and you need to recite a sonnet every hour- see the tv over there? It'll be flashing through a few for you to choose from.\"\n\nShe managed it. Somehow she fought through the next six hours without passing out and memorizing the sonnets. She would never enjoy Shakespeare or Jello again but she was a queen in training now. Until the pinning.\n\nShe still hadn't slept. Jello was unsurprisingly difficult to sleep in. Memorizing the sonnets had taken the last of her soul and when they pinned her, the pick pierced her skin, causing a droplet of blood to soak her dress and take the last bit of sugar with it. Her head smashed into Massie.\n\nThe hospital room was bright white. Doctors were inspecting every inch of her and an iv was placed in her right arm. \"uh...\" she moaned.\n\n\"Ma'am, you...you're body is completely out of sugar. A normal person would have passed out hours ago but a diabetic...they should have died. You can't ever dip below 50 on your blood sugar again. Ever. You need to hide away in the desert and simply drink apple juice and eat snickers bar until you recover.\"\n\nShe frowned. This wasn't going as planned,\" the sorority is being sued- the entire sorority. The judge is probably going to rule in your favor,\" a nice pants suit wearing lady said to her. \"You'll be a multi-millionaire if that's any consolation.\"\n\nSmirking, she realized she'd won faster than any other president, she was too good for their sonnets and jello anyway.\n\n--------------------------------\n[end]\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] A fantasy story where the hero actually gets the kind of support he ought to be able to get, to help him on his quest.	[ "I am the tavern keeper of my town and in my younger years I was an adventurer as was my father before me.\n\nI had grown weary of the adventurers life and was prepared to settle down and enjoy my later years surrounded by friends,laughter and good yarns.\n\nThe only thing I'd kept from my adventures was a bow and a quill full of arrows given to me by the Feelufs, it was reward for slaying a Troll that would attack their trading caravans.\n\n\n\nIt has been 4 years now since I first heard tales of the Spider-Queen and her many children.\n\n\nThey all turned out to be true,\nour town was once a bristling happy place, with taverns filled to the brim of travellers and adventures alike regaling the townsfolk and anyone who would listen about their adventures and deeds.\n\nI miss those days, I miss the sound of new people.\n\nMany a adventurer had come seeking out the Spider-Queens head and the dominion it brought over her children,it was a worthy quest indeed, free an enslaved town and gain a powerful army the likes of which had not been seen before.\n\nThey all fell to her though,every last one of them, after they had fallen she would have her children carry their headless corpse back into the town and lay it at the steps of the Town-hall for all to see as a symbol of her victory and a reminder of her power over us.\n\nThis would not happen again,I would not let it.\n\nI myself would stop her, I would free our town.\n\nMy first action was to seek out a blacksmith, I would need good steal,only the best would do,only the strongest could withstand her venom.\n\nI'd heard of a fine Blacksmith by the name of Melvyn Trueforge, he had settled outside the town in a small village where he taught his skills to young apprentices.\n\nHe was a dwarf as were all good Blacksmiths, and like all good dwarfs he was fond of mead.\n \nI made sure to load a cart with the finest Mead we had in the brewery \"Captain Robins liquid coffin\".\n\nA good name I thought, if knew anything about dwarves it was that they loved the thought of a drink that might kill them,they actually took it as a challenge to drink it all and not die.\n\nI made my way to Melvyn's humble forge, after a days travel I arrived without incident, it was mid morning and the air was still crisp and fresh,still moist to the skin.\n\nI was not expecting to see anyone working a forge or anvil this early but there I saw a flame haired dwarven man hammering out a sheet of what looked to be flat iron.\n\nMe.\n\"A little early in the day to be shaping iron isn't it?\"\n\nMelvyn.\n\"It's not iron my lad, it's an old dwarven steal that yee need te, shape when the airs moist like a lassies quim.\"\n\nMe.\n\"Is it strong?\"\n\nMelvyn.\n\"Well yee could take a hit from a giants mace to yees chest and be no worse off, yee canni feel a thing when it's on, that's the secret yee see, it doesn't ever stay rigid, it bends and takes the hit for yee\".\n\nMe.\n\"How about flames? And a spiders venom?\n\nMelvyn.\n\"Ach yee must be mad, there's no spider venom that will melt this armour, and yee needn't worry about flames mi lad, it keeps the moisture from the air inside it,there's no flame that'll burn this, I'll bet my beard on that.\"\n\n\"Is that mead I see on your wagon there traveller?\".\n\n\"What are yee then? A brewer?\"\n\nMe.\n\"I'm on a quest to rid my town of the Spider-Queen and I seek you out Melvyn Truforge, I've come to commission you, to make me set of armour and forge me a great blade so that I may slay this vile creature.\"\n\nMelvyn.\n\"I've had runnings in the past with the Spider-Queen, she laid waste to mi homeland and killed my lassie and the weyans, I was in the kingdom of the Feeluf's trading mi steal for leathers and furs afor the winter come\".\n\n\"But tell me laddie, what makes you think you can stop her, how can you kill what so many others have failed to?\"\n\nMe.\n\"Because my friend, I've seen so many before me try stop her and know now where and how they have failed.\n\nI come prepared so as not to waste time running needless errands or trying to earn a reputation with a faction when that time could be better spent preparing for my quest,\nI have no-one I need to seek knowledge from I only have my quest to complete, I also have a cart filled with \"Captain Robins liquid coffin\".\n\nMelvyn.\n\"Aye so you do, yee give 2 days and I'll make yee the best armour and sword know to us dwarves, in the meantime laddie, yee best rest up and get yeeself a decent bow and arrow, I'd say yee best seeing the Feelufs about that.\"\n\nMe.\n\"I already have one from them, it was reward for slaying a Troll many years ago\".\n\nMelvyn.\n\"So yeer the one then, the nameless adventurer from years back, I heard yeed died at the battle for \"Stubbedtoes castle\".\n\n\nMe.\n\"I'm afraid not, during the seige my horse was spat on by a Stonespit Marauder, as it fell to the ground my leg was caught under it's weight and was crushed as it turned to stone, I passed out from the pain and when I awoke the field was still and silent with the scent of death in the air.\n\nI crawled back to the nearest town where I was taken in by the tavern owner and his wife, they nursed me back to full health, that's when I decided to settle and help them run their tavern, the wife couldn't stay with child, so I became like a son to them\".\n\nMelvyn,\n\"I see laddie,I'm sorry to hear about yee steed as well.\n\nYou know what they say is a good Stonespit Marauder?\n\nIt's the one that spits on yee wee man when it's time to consummate a marriage of convenience with the Bakers daughter.\n\nMe.\n\"Hahaha\"\n\nMelvyn.\n\"I thought yeed like that one, now it's time I got started on this armour and sword for yee, I'll take mi payment after the deed is done and we'll have a wee drink to yee victory, yee just bring that witches head to me tee see though laddie right?.\n\nMe.\n\"Consider it done my friend\".\n\nMelvyn.\n\"Alright then, yee can stop in the barn cs mee house is too wee to fit a big lump like you in, there's no steads in it so dunni worry my apprentices take em with em when they go to see their mammies and daddies, it'll be 5 days before they get back laddie\".\n\n3 days had passed and I said my goodbyes to Melvyn and thanked him for my armour and sword.\n\nThey truly were the finest crafted of their kind, the amour and blade seemed to shimmer and speak when the light caught them.\nI was especially fond of the helmet and the small stone horse that Melvyn had gilded onto the front, a reminder of my last battle and to always be prepared.\n\n\nHe looked optimistic as I left,maybe he was hoping that my slaying of the Spider-Queen would give him some peace or at the very least make up for his wife and children dying while he wasn't there to protect them, he didn't admit it but you could see the shame and frustration in his eyes.\nWhat decent man wouldn't feel like that?\n\n\nAfter 3 days travel I was in\"The forest of the many thorns\" were the Spider-Queens cave lay half a days travel to the east.\n\nAs I made my way inward I came to a bridge that crossed a stream, a large troll sprung out in front of my path.\n\nTroll.\n\"I be the keeper of this bridge,if you want to cross it either give me gold or solve a riddle, the choice is yours, but know this if you can't solve my riddle then it's death I will bring to you. Now what do you choose traveller?\".\n\nMe.\n\"Did you build this bridge?\"\n\nTroll.\n\"What do you mean traveller?\".\n\nMe.\n\"Well if you didn't build this bridge,and have no proof of ownership,how can you be the keeper of it?\"\n\nTroll.\n\"I be the keeper of this bridge.\"\n\nMe.\n\"You have already said that but what I'm asking is where's your proof?\"\n\nTroll.\n\"Us trolls have always been keepers of bridges, we don't need proof,that's the way it has always been.\"\n\nMe.\n\"I'm afraid you do need proof stating ownership of the bridge,otherwise what's to stop everyone from claiming the first bridge they come across and making a living off of it?\nSociety cannot function without rules and I'm afraid you're breaking them.\"\n\nTroll.\n\".........\"\n\nMe.\n\"Think about it for a second, you see a bridge and think \"I can make some gold from this\" only to go under it and find a dwarve or a human or even a Feeluf underneath it with a deed stating that the bridge belongs to them, you have no right or claim to that bridge and just have to accept it, if you went to the kings court they would be in the right every time.\"\n\nTroll.\n\"Only trolls keep bridges.\"\n\nMe.\n\"That's a stereo type.\nWhy would you even want to keep a bridge anyway? With the Spider-Queen in the area there's hardly been any travellers come through this forest in at least a year,you can't be making much gold from this, it must be lonely. Surely there's something else you can do, do you have any other skills?\"\n\nTroll.\n\"I am lonely and business has been slow these past few years, I've been spending more gold than I'm making. \nI've always enjoyed coming up with riddles\".\n\nMe.\n\"Well there we have it, that's something you can work on, I'll tell you what,why don't you accompany me to slay the Spider-Queen and when we're done I'll take you back to town and see what use your skill can be put to.\"\n\nTroll.\n\"I will travel with you then,friend?\".\n\nMe.\n\"Yes friend, now tell me can you read and write?\"\n\n\n\nMy new troll friend and I travelled to the Spider-Queens lair,slayed her without much trouble then returned to town were we set up a profitable puzzle-book business, troll would come up with the puzzles and the answers,I would use my spider army to distribute to books all across the Kingdoms.\n\nMelvyn drank himself to death on \"Captain Robins liquid coffin\" he will be missed.", "'Really, I have no idea what I'm doing or what I ever did to merit the position of 'Hero', here. Or even where I am for that matter, or what the story is so far.'\n\nThe Wizard archetype nodded, sagely. He wore a pointy hat.\n\n'So, having no memory of any previous events or even much of a personal timeline by which I'd normally use to characterise myself, I'm at something of a loss here.'\n\nThe Wizard nodded again. He it his pipe sagely.\n\n'So. What's the story here? I'm hoping for something to do with a magic ring, I was always partial to those kinds of stories.'\n\nThe Wizard choked on his pipe (sagely), the smoke billowing around the brim of his wide hat before dispersing around him. \n\n'Magic RING? No, son. I'm afraid this is nothing so simple as that. This quest is about a magic line.'\n\nNow it was the completely unremarkable protagonists turn to laugh.\n\n'Let me guess, a straight forward quest from A to B?'\n\nThe Wizard puffed deeply on his pipe and looked at the smiling boy before plucking a small green herb from the ground and giving it an idle chew (oregano). \n\n'Nobody likes a smartass.'\n", "The dragon YellowClaw has been terrorizing our village for ages. It killed my parents. It ate my best friend. It destroyed my collection of rare Pokemon cards. \n\nBut that all ends now. I, Jackson Prewitt, am 18 years old today. And I will travel up to that wretched beasts lair and take it out all by myself. With only a pocket knife in hand. \n\nI walk up the mountain where the lair is located, ready to unleash all hell. When I arrive, a wretched site greets me. My village must have sent a brigade of troops in before me. I curse inwardly. If only I had come sooner. My heart aches in remorse.\n\nMy comrades lay around, evidently injured and severely in danger as the dragon thrash around. Their bloodcurdling screams litter the air as their weapons drop one by one.\n\n\"Hooray!\"\n\n\"WE DID IT! WE REALLY DID IT!\"\n\n\"I can't believe we tied it up!\"\n\nTruly, a pitiful site. I pray for their saftey. \n\nOne of the troops spots me and makes his way toward me, as an act of desperation. \n\n\"Hey, kid. What are you doing here?\" He asks. Concerned for my saftey, he questions why I have come. He does not want me to end up like the rest of his comrades did. \n\nBut I fear no dragon. I strut past him despite his protests. He reaches an arm to stop me, to try and prevent me from fulfilling my destiny, but I shake him off. \n\nI approach the dragon as it thrashes around. Wide eyed, perhaps recognizing me from before, it tries to thrash at me. However I numbly dodge the attack by walking straight ahead. It cannot touch me. I am too quick.\n\n\"Hey kid, that dragon is tied up so it can't reach you, but don't get too close or- what the?!\" \n\nThe man cuts of as I circle around the dragon. The dragon does not turn around. I must have been moving too quick for it to see. And I start to scale the dragon, climbing on its tail.\n \n\"H-hey kid!\"\n\nThe dragon attempts to throw me off, but because I have weakened it so much already, I easily hang on. I climb the dragon slowly but surely, as my comrades yell out below me, cheering me on.\n\n\"GET DOWN FROM THERE.\"\n\nOh, I will, my friend. I certainly will.\n\nI am at it's head now, and the dragon is thrashing around more than ever. It is getting harder to hold on, and I am just barely able to catch my grip a couple of times. \n\nDespite this, I manage to pull out my knife and raise it over its head. If I go down, I will take this dragon with me. \n\nI thrust down with all my might. \n\nA flash of light fills my vision and I am momentarily blinded. Though I know I made contact with the dragon, even I was not able to tell exactly what happened, and the knife flew away from my hand. \n\nBut in a moment it was all too clear. The dragon fell to the ground, defeated, crushed, dead. And I stood atop of it unharmed. I must have channeled some secet holy power within in me to strike that fatal blow. \n\nI turn toward the soldiers and raise my fist in the air. The troops return my salute by pointing their smoking guns into the air, although they were already doing that. Comradary at its finest. \n\n\"What the hell were you thinking?!\" A female soldier steps forward, an angry look on her face. I am taken aback for a second, before I relax. \n\nThe girl that was so concerned for me was undoubtedly my lover. All heroes had lovers. And of course she would be angry with my reckless actions. But didn't she know that I had no choice? No matter. It would all be okay soon.\n\nI step forward and kiss the girl. I hold my lips against her for a solid second before she pushes me away, a look of affectionate surprise on her face. \n\n\"We did it.\" I whisper in her ear, even though it was clearly all me.\n\n\"WHAT THE FLYING FU-\"\n\nAnd all was well.\n", "\"Since you've been so kind to an old woman,\" the hag croaked, \"I'll give you a blessing. Every time you speak, roses and jewels will issue from your mouth.\"\n\nElle blinked. \"Actually, could I ask for some good hiking shoes instead? These--\" she gestured at her glass slippers-- \"aren't doing much for me. Terrible on gravel.\"\n\n\"Well,\" the crone said, \"I suppose so.\" She waved her hand and muttered something, and the high heels were instantly transformed into perfectly-sized (glass) hiking boots. \"You know, you're the first person who's ever asked for something different. They're usually too caught up in the idea of endless diamonds.\"\n\n\"Mama told me that diamonds are only valuable for their rarity and they'd be worthless if they were common,\" Elle said absently, bending over to touch the thin glass rods currently done into a bow. \"Are the laces flexible?\"\n\n\"Of course, of course. On your way now, girl, there's a prince who needs to be rescued. Oh, here's a map that will always show your position, and here's a guidebook. Common North Everworldian Flora and Fauna, it's the most comprehensive regarding trolls.\" With that, the crone chivvied her out the door of the broken-down hut and onto the forest path.\n\nLush, dense foliage surrounded them, and Elle's new map showed that the forest continued for another two days' journey.\n\n\"Thank you, fairy godmama,\" she said politely.\n\nThe old woman choked, and then let out a wheezy bark of laughter. \"Not the worst thing I've been called. You're welcome, girl. Now off you go.\"" ]	4
	[WP] You log on to reddit and see a post on /r/worldnews submitted 23 minutes ago on the front page with over 50,000 upvotes and 35,000 comments titled "We were wrong."	[ "After a long day of work, I slouch down on my chair and log onto reddit. On the Frontpage there is a post, posted thirty minutes ago with the ominous title, \"We were wrong,\" on /r/Worldnews. I clicked on the post, and when I see it, I become cold and filled with dread. \n\nNorth Korea fired their nukes at South Korea. Full retaliation expected. ", "The sun beat down on the surface of your skin, but not even the sweltering summer heat could challenge the feeling of complete joy and freedom that brimmed in your heart. As you opened the front door to feel the liberating coolness of aircon on your sweating skin, you throw your rucksack onto the dining room table. Time to meet three months of freedom!\n\nYou let out a content sigh as you lounge into the sofa. Your left arm lazily glides across to the remote, and your right hand drags your phone towards you. Turning both devices on in the same instant, you bathe in your life for the next few months. The channel muttered on about some controversial scientist winning some prize, but you ignore it in favour of logging into your one true home: reddit.\n\nAs the homepage loads, you see a post with 50,000 upvotes and 35,000 comments. \n\n\n\"Hey love! How was your exam today?\" Your mum's head popped out from the kitchen.\n\n\"Oh, it was great!\" You put down your phone for a second, and smile at her.\n\n\"Oh, good sweetie. You usually have so much trouble with math! I knew my little baby would do well!\" She laughed as she came out and pinched your cheek. You were 18. \"I am making a little dessert for you. It's your favourite, to celebrate the summer holidays!\"\n\n\nYou loved your mum. You really did. You'd always had trouble with math, and though you probably did not do great, you were sure at least half the questions were right. The longest question which was worth the most was surprisingly simple: after solving your way through all the difficult variables, you came up with a very clean final equation. \n\n2+2=...?\n\n4.\n\nEasy.\n\nYou looked back at your phone and to the same post. 30,000 upvotes and 45,000 comments. Man, the upvotes were fluctuating! You read the title: \"We were wrong.\"\n\nOh man. Was the article about the elections? Was it truly going to be between Donald Trump and Bernie afterall? A dystopia flashed before your eyes, a white house plated with pure gold. You shudder, and click inside, praying for Bernie to pull through. \n\n\"Today, mathematician Arnold Hernand has finally completed his proof that two plus two does not actually equal four, but five.\"\n\nWhat. the. fuck?\n\n\"It is incredibly complex, but the findings are valid. Scientists are still trying to disprove his finding, however attempts to do so thus far have been unsuccessful.\"\n\nOh shit.\n\n\"There has been much controversy over the decision by policy makers' reaction to this finding. A spokesman today said textbooks will be changed immediately, and Hernand's law will be a fundamental rule in math. Exams starting from those taken today will have their markschemes revised. We understand it is inconvenient, but a discovery like this changes the workings of society entirely. We are trying to find how all other scientific theories will hold up with Hernand's law. Economies are adjusting to the new concept that four is actually an imaginary number.\"\n\nYou sink into your chair, eyes blankly staring at the screen.\nThe comments ranged from those accusing the article of being fake, to the whole situation being part of a huge government conspiracy. Some were saying this was a new era for science, and excitedly proposing how this is the answer to some of life's unsolved mysteries. In the background, Arnold Hernand was giving an interview to the BBC.\n\nYou curl into a fetal position on the couch, trying not to cry. Maybe you should call up your friend, to see if those brownies she gave you were really safe to eat.\n\n\n", "The short title caught my attention and I immediately clicked the link. \n\n\"That's a fuckton of upvotes\" I thought to myself. \"This better be good.\" \n\nThe link wouldn't load. I tried again after refreshing the page. The post now had 60k upvotes, but it still wouldn't load up. My palms were sweating, I wiped them on my jeans. \n\n\"Must be their servers,\" I muttered. \n\nMy wife called to me from the living room. \"Honey, can you walk the dog?\"\n\nI rose from my chair and pocketed my phone, figuring I might as well seeing as it would be a good way to pass a minute or two. \n\n\"Sure thing babe\" I said as I strode towards the back door and called for the dog. \n\n\"Could you do me a favor and turn on the news for a minute Sheiland?\" I asked. \n\nA few moments later I was halfway out the back door when a firm voice filled the room. \n\n\"Men and women of America, I would advise you to stay calm and await further notice. The President is expected to speak on the issue any minute now.\" \n\nThe TV screen popped.\n\n\"Ah damnit the bulb blew again\" Sheiland whined. \n\nI checked my phone, the link had loaded. \n\nIt was a short text post, no more than two lines. \n\n\"We were wrong. Deeply wrong, about mankind. You don't deserve to live.\" \n\n\n\nEdit: Aliens using Reddit? Cheesy I know :p" ]	3
	[WP] You are a soldier fighting in the trenches of WWI.	[ "The heavy rain of dirt showered the men in the trenches, huddled in preparation to reply with their own rain of lead and heated blood. The sky lay overcast, shrouded in the smog of artillery smoke. Hot lead and musty dirt could be smelled throughout the air on the barren battlefield. A lone man stands erect in an instant, and brings up his rifle to his chest, jamming the butt into the crook of his shoulder, his sweaty check rested on the metal end of the firearm, the helmet upon his head slipping down his wet and dirty hair, slick upon his forehead. With a breath, he relaxes as much as a person in a war might, and retaliated with the squeezing of the trigger, the muzzle flashing hotly to let loose shells and flying lead. In that same moment as he fired, he flew back down to his haunches, kneeling in kind to the god of war that might spare his life from this apocalypse of mankind, that he might return home to his darling gal, most likely to be by the small radio that held news from the front lines of the war. Yet another blast from the skies above rained the cool dirt upon the soldiers, and pulled him mentally back to the action that would leave death in its wake.", "The Night March\n\nTrotting along the duckboards the presence of death is felt by all; it is in the shaking of the field gun that permeates the hallowed earth. The night is black as pitch, and one cannot see but the man in front of him. At Champagne, these men once sang; at the Somme they wept; in Passchendaele, they are silent, for there is no cry which can evoke the true horror of their martyrdom.\nWith each step the most awful sound responds, like the churning of rancid butter. The blood and the rain flow ceaselessly, and it turns the ground to porridge.\nMud.\nOur world is mud, and it eats us the second we let our guard down.\nThree men ahead a man fails to account for a sudden bend in the path. He slips and stumbles, extending his right arm to break the fall and the earth consumes it up to the elbow. He throws his left out for support and the world enjoys its second course; he is on his hands and knees, there is no hope of escape. The march halts, each man takes a knee and stares into the howling eyes of this, the latest victim. He, too, knows what must be done, but he is not strong enough to accept it, and so he pleads for rescue.\nIf only you could see him, then, as he turned his head round to watch his comrades leave him there in the rain. Few moments are as fleeting as when one's mortality is established. I wonder if he ceased his crying, if somewhere deep in the fields of Flanders there sank a man ready to be swallowed whole by the afterbirth of our national suicide. \nPerhaps his cries never ceased. \nPerhaps they are merely buried in the sea of destruction.\nAnd so the march continues...\n \n", "When you become a soldier, you expect a meat grinder. You prepare for enemy bullets cutting down your comrades, explosions shaking the ground near you, mines lying in wait to rip you to shreds. It seems almost inevitable to see long rows of graves on what were previously fields of battle and military infirmaries filled with mutilated and limbless troopers. What you don't expect is spending hours, days, weeks, and months in tiny spaces between two walls, fighting a second front against an army of rats, and waiting till you die in a pool of vomit rather than blood.\n\nThe worst part was definitely the smell, the putrid, rancid, appalling reek of rotten carcasses, dried sweat, and shit from the overflowing latrines. It seeped into every room and every object there. The food, the clothes, the walls, even the fucking cigarettes gave off the unmistakable stench of war. And worst of all there was no way out, not a single minute in a day where you could go on without inhaling that foul air.\n\nEventually some cracked. Be it to save themselves from the smell or to somehow get rid of the monotony of brown low walls, they peeked out. For a second a guy would raise his head above the parapet and gaze onto the burnt out No Man's Land, just to get his brains blown out in an instant. The snipers were always watching, always waiting, always ready to remind you that in this war you were a maggot, a creature that is meant to crawl on the ground and not even as much as think about glancing at anything, except for your boots in the mud.\n\nWe hated the snipers, but more than anything else we hated rats. Gorging themselves on the cadavers and our supplies, these pests grew to the size of small cats. I still remember waking up screaming under several disgusting furry bodies and hearing the skittering of those claws every waking moment of the day. We shot them, clubbed them, stabbed them, and burned them, but we could never win. The rats bred and bred, until hundreds, thousands, millions of new pests came pouring out of every nook and cranny. And those bastards brought with them something much more terrifying than teeth and claws.\n\nMany did end up in the infirmary, but it wasn't due to an injury. I didn't get the fancy talk from the doctors, but we all saw the results. Whether it were lice, typhus, diarrhoea, fever, foot fungus, or some other affliction, all I knew was that my comrades ended up coughing, vomiting, and shitting their insides out on those beds. There was no quick death from a bullet or a mine, no fine rows of graves, no queue of mutilated soldiers, only a long excruciating suffering, until you became just another decaying carcass in the trench, adding to the foul reek all around.\n\nThere is no glory to find down there and no just cause to fight for. It's not a test of bravery or a survival of the fittest. It's a long descent into what will make you beg the enemy sniper for a bullet. War is hell and it smells like shit.", "\"Well, this wasn't what you were expectin', eh lad?\" some large man asked with unexpected tenderness after what just happened, after what I saw him do, with blood and mud mixing together on his face. \n&nbsp; \n&nbsp; \nAn eternity earlier \n&nbsp; \n\nI am private Mark Goodhall, volunteered with my brother, Jeff and our friends Martin, Steve, Gregory, Vinny and Luke. We were so excited, going over seas for the first time, going to stare down evil in it's eye and and return victorious with grand tales of bravery and derring do. \n \nWhat fools we were.... \n \nEndless nights, just waiting, sleeping in mud, listening to artillery fire and the pops of gunfire in the forward trenches. Waiting in squalor, itching to be in the melee, to prove to all the world the the unstoppable force wielded by the Super Seven of Fulton, IL. We would kill the time by boasting about deeds we had yet too do, developing tactics and strategies on taking enemy trenches and defending against counter attacks. \n \nFinally, the call came and we were rotated to the front. Our time for glory has arrived. \n \nWe excitedly made our way to the front trench and Martin went to climb the ladder to peer out but some man, so covered in grime that he blended in with the wall yanked him down. \n \n\"What da' haell arya tryn' ta do? Git yerself keel?\" he growled, almost unintelligibly. \n \n\"What?\" asked Martin, a little dazed as we helped him out of the muck. \n \n\"You. Look. Out\" he drawled slowly, over enunciating his words like he was talking to an infant, \"You. Get. Killed. Got it? Them Krauts got snipers looking for green'orns like you. Easy pickins you are.\" \n \n\"Don't we have our own snipers up there?\" I asked. \n \n\"Yes, but they can't find them, and them Krauts can't find ours either, so they shoot every thing else. Like ya'll\" \n \n&nbsp; \n \nSo once again, we were forced to wait as men were moved around and the Krauts attacked every area but ours. We were getting antsy, doing nothing but listening to our big guns fire every now and then, and their artillery fire back, both groups guns seemed to land mostly in the no man's land, chewing up a large stretch of land littered with craters, barbed wire and pools of brackish water. \n \nOur stretch of land has started to get overly crowded, and rumors were circulating that command was getting ready for a massive push, and the numbers that accompanied these rumors were astounding. Tens of Thousands of artillery pieces and hundreds of thousands of men were going to charge over the the top and utterly smash through the German lines and cause complete chaos behind their lines, sure to win the war. Never learned the true numbers, but that didn't matter to us, we were finally going to be heros. \n&nbsp; \nThe day finally came, but to our disappointment, we were slated to be near the last to go over. But we took comfort in hearing the most devastating bombardment we have ever heard. A constant stream of shells screamed overhead to turn the enemies trenches to mush. We were almost scared that the artillery would do all the work for us and we voiced those fears to our nearby comrades. Most laughed at us and said that we would be wishing they did more a the end of the day. \n \nFinally the bombardment ended and our machine guns opened up, providing cover fire for our first wave, as if anyone could have survived such a deluge. Imagine our surprise as we started to hear return fire and our delight as we might have a chance to actually do battle with the enemy. \n \nWe were almost to to the top when we heard the boom of the enemy artillery. It didn't sound nearly as impressive as what we had, and most of the shells were falling short of our trench, so we laughed it off, climbed over and raced each other across the no man's land, confident in our immortality. \n \nWe heard snapping noises around our heads as we ran, I started to catch up to my brother Jeff when I heard Luke scream. We all stopped and stared in horror at him as he held what was of his jaw in his hand, blood pouring out over his fingers and back into his mouth as he lay on his back, quickly turning his scream into a sickening gurgle. That was when the sound of battle finally reached us, the shells screaming through the air, people on the ground, screaming in pain or in fear, the snaps and cracks of bullets passing too close to one's head and the cry's for mother, medic or mercy. Greg knelt by Luke, trying to turn him on his side so the blood would clear his throat, then he suddenly stiffened and fell over. killed instantly by a piece of shrapnel through his head, the rest of us looked at each other, knowing what we had to do, we continued running to the far trench. \n \nWe could see that our comrades had already taken the outer trench, so we'd be safer once we'd reach it. We ran, now terrifyingly aware of the sounds of bullets and shells, but with nothing else to do, we ran straight for safety. In a moment, the world went silent and the landscape spun and flipped and I found myself laying on my arm, bent unnaturally behind my back. I sat up, not knowing what had happened and curious as to why I couldn't hear or feel anything. I decided that I must be dead, and a ghost doomed to haunt the battlefield and I felt strangely ok with that. So I stood up and was promptly knocked down by some massive man who looked curiously intense and looked like he was trying to yell something at me. I just stared at him and was about to tell him that it's fine, he's ok when my hearing returned. \n \nThe chaos came back and so did my mind. I realized that broken arms hurt, a lot and began screaming in pain as my arm lay pinned on the ground. The only thing I heard the man yell was \"-ay down!\" and I complied. \n \nHowever, I began to panic, my arm was broken and I couldn't see my friends. So I crawled around, screaming out their names as tears streamed from my eyes. I think I knew that they were dead, but I couldn't find them, I needed to see them, I needed to let them know I was alive, that I would remember them. I don't know if all I was thinking made sense, but I was determined to find them. \n \nI felt like I crawled for miles, but in reality it was maybe only a few yards when a sobbing voice stuck out of the clamor of battle. I crawled toward it, the command of the giant to \"stay down\" seemed important in a way I still didn't quite understand. As I crawled, I heard the voice repeatedly cry \"Oh my God, oh my God, help me...oh my God, help\" in between sobs and intermittent noises. \n \nI crawled over a body and they voice near by changed from fear to anger, \"Get off him you bastard! You filthy aaagggghhhh!\" he screamed. \n \nI looked over into my brother's twisted face, his hands covering his stomach as he cried out in pain. I dragged myself to him and held him sobbing in my arm, unsure if he even recognized me. After a bit, the gunfire ceased, and the screaming of the shells stopped and I just lay there, in the mud, staring at my brother's face as he mumbled and cried, his eyes not seeing anything but the shredded body at his feet. \n \nAs the sun started to set, I noticed lights on both ends of the battlefield bobbing up and down, slowly getting closer. Jeff finally went quiet, not quite sleeping and his hands finally fell away, revealing a large hole in his abdomen and a piece of shrapnel sticking out of it. One of the bobbing lights got closer and separated into a group of smaller lights. I watched them, with curious uncomprehension until they reached us. \n\n\"Hey, we got a live one, no wait, that's two!\" \n \n\n\"Lemmy, you and Donald get to run the first stretcher this time.\" \n \n\n\"Wait a min, this one right here, his innards are messed up an' he's barely breathing anyhow, so just this one.\" \n \n\"Here kid, have some of this 'er, open up\" I felt something press at my lips and water flow onto my tongue. Until then, I hadn't realized how thirsty I was as the water moistened my mouth. I tried to reach for the canteen with my broken arm and yelped in pain. \n \n\"Slow down son, yer safe now, who's the lad on yer arm?\" \n \n\"Jeff\" I said, baffled, in my dazed state, that they didn't know who he was. \n \nOne of the men bent down and lifted him off me and then lifted me on to a stretcher. \n \n\"You're lucky kid,\" said one, \"if we hadn't broken through, you'd have died out here, those poor bastards up front will meet a sniper's bullet if they're lucky. Sorry about you're friend by the way, we'll do the only thing we can do, you'd best look away\" \n \nI stared at him and asked \"what?\" \n \n\"Turn him away lads and check his tag, if he was his friend, he doesn't need to see this.\" \n \nBefore Lemmy and Donald turned me away, I saw the canteen man heft his shovel. Out of sight, I heard a thunk and a clink as the canteen man read aloud, \"Jeffery Goodhall, eh? And this poor pile of rags is...Vincent ...By-an-card-ee?\" \n \n\"Biancardi\" I mumbled automatically as Lemmy or Donald reached to read my dog tag. \n \nCanteen man chuckled, \"you knew that one also?\" Lemmy or Donald whispered in Canteen man's ear. \"Ah, sorry about your brother. First battle?\" he asked gently and I merely nodded, as I realized the mess of a body I crawled over was Vinny's. \n \n\"Well, this wasn't what you were expectin' eh lad?\"", "June 30th, 1916,\nGommecourt, France\n\nPrivate James Goodwill\n\n\nDearest Christine,\n\nI have deeply exciting news (oh what news!) - we have finally been given the order. By the time you read this I will be sipping a proper cup of tea in a cafe in central Berlin! \n\nYou might think that I sound over confident but if you were here I promise you would agree. The sheer volume of men! A hundred thousand of us will be going over the top tomorrow, accompanied by enough artillery to bring about the Armageddon. Well that is exactly what it will be for the Krauts. \n\nCan you believe those numbers? I am told that never before has such a number of men been assembled. I don't know if that is true but it is very believable. Our boys stretch far into the distance on either side of me. Not that I can see them of course, they are tucked up in their beds under the ground. I will be joining them soon.\n\nCaptain Brown believes that the enemy will up and flee as soon as they see our numbers. He thinks the war will most likely end right then, and I think he is right. Oh, if only you could see!\n\nChristine my love, this means that I will be with you in a matter of weeks! Our life can continue from where we left off. Tell me, have I missed Harry say his first words, or is there time still? And is Michael... no... do not respond for I will soon see for myself. With any luck I will be home long before your reply could reach me. Keep strong for a short while longer.\n\nYou can not fathom how eager I am to leave this cesspit! Nine months soaked, stinking, underfed and very almost deafened. There is no escape from the squalor of the trenches. Even sitting at my desk whilst writing this, a fowl mud (I can not call it water, as it is as thick as porridge) laps at my ankles. As always I see the rats doing there best to swim through the gloop. It almost looks as if they are walking on it. I used to fear them a little, if you would believe it. Fear the rats - ha!\n\nI do have something else to tell you and I shed a tear as I write this. We lost your cousin Anthony two days ago to a type of influenza. I thank God that is not my fate. Where is the glory in disease? Please do no fret too much on that news and think instead of our reunion. I will see you shortly.\n\nLove always, your James" ]	5
	[WP] His eyes were dark, and there was nothing in them.	[ "I looked upon the face of death \nHis eyes were dark, and there was nothing in them \nOnce a friend, he laid there broken \nAnd all I could think was I'm glad it was him \nThat could have been me, laying there \nAnd there he will stay, decomposing alone \nBut in the end does it matter? \nWe'll all end up like that, we're just flesh and bone \n\nThey say fortune smiles on the brave \nTell that to my friend, for it got him nowhere \nThe only reason I'm still here \nI hesitated and escaped by a hair \nNow miles and years lay between us \nTo look at me now you couldn't really tell \nI once lived a different life \nKilling just to survive, but hey, war is hell", "“You sure ‘bout betting what you don’t want to lose, Cor? Can’t take back a bet after the dice roll…”\n\nI glared down at the pile of coin and a week’s work of necklaces and jewelled trinkets piled high before Grist, annoyed he felt the need to ask. My luck had been all spent climbing through windows and running from city guards, it seemed, and had left me none to spare for tonight.\n\nI had lost everything I’d risked my freedom, my life to steal in the hours since this game had begun. Now it was drawing to an end. I was turning my last gamble over and over in my hand. Something my mother had worn all her life. As a child, I had thought it was copper, but when I had taken it from her body, I found it was painted to hide the truth. It was gold. The crest had been hammered out, so I suspected it was something a lordling had “lost” during my mother’s whoring days, but I wondered at times why she hadn’t sold it if that were so. We could have done with the coin it would have fetched… but I had no means to ask her, now.\n\n“Maybe you’re right,” I mused, flexing my voice so I sounded half-convinced. “My dignity is in bad enough shape, as-is.”\n\nHis gaze darted to the ring, and his tongue flicked along his lip. “… Or, I could be charitable. That can’t get more than a half-lect at any fence, but I’ll put a full one in the pot. Double it’s worth if you win this go.”\n\nI rubbed my thumb other the hammered face for the hundredth time this evening, a nervous habit though told anyone sharp-eyed enough how wretched I was feeling. It had started as theatrics, but in this moment it was closer to truth than was comfortable. I wasn’t so attached to the ring that I’d lose sleep for gambling it. I had loved my mother as fierce as she loved me, but metal was metal. It reminded me of her, but there were other things that did that, too. And having a lect was better than not. If I could win this roll.\n\n“A full lect?” I echoed, forcing more greed into my tone than I truly felt. “… I know a fence who’d give me that, for a ring like this…”\n\n“Take it to that fence then,” Grist say with a gracious shrug. He knew it was a lie, if he even suspected I was telling the truth he’d be angry. No, he’d say it as a bluff to try to make the pot sweeter, but refused to give that power to me. I hadn’t thought it would work, but it was a trick someone like Grist employed. If I had simply agreed, he would be suspicious.\n\nHe smirked when I scowled at him. “It’s a walk,” I grumbled, dropping the ring into the table. Grist added another heavy coin, and lifted his brow at me. I picked up the dice and shook them in my hands. I held my breath and let them scatter on the table.\n\n“Skord’s breath!” I snarled. Seven eyes stared unblinking up at me. That was my worst roll yet. Grist laughed, throwing himself back in his chair. “Are these weighted?” I asked, exasperated. I was sure they weren’t, I’d held them all, and half of them were mine. Grist kept laughing. I picked up my tankard and muttered, “Whore’s luck,” into the foam before I drank.\n\n“I’ll keep it for you to win back next week,” Grist promised when his mirth subsided, though his grin stayed.\n\nI grunted, not sure if I should be grateful or not and wondering if it was a lie.\n“You’re luck’s poxed. Better ask a hedgewitch for an ointment, ey?” As he said that, the tavern door opened. Grist’s gaze had moved from my face to over my shoulder towards the door and his broke-tooth grin fell like a roof slate in a storm, a slack expression of surprise all that was left behind. I tensed on instinct. I was expecting a gang from the Warrens, or a troop of guards. What he hissed was not at all as I expected. “Cor, look there. Warlock.”\n\nHere? Down here in the grime? Not even their outcasts came this deep into Undertown. There was slumming, then there was suicidal.\n\nThe low, usual noise of The Festering Pit died off, all attention focused on one point, one person. I couldn’t look around without twisting in my seat and looking the fool, so I didn’t, though I yearned to. The way Grist’s gaze flicked from me to the figure in the doorway made the need all the greater, but I was the master of my own self.\n\nThe warlock spoke in a voice of ice and spider-webs, laced with power. “I come to reclaim property belonging to me. Keep to your seats and none shall be harmed.”\nI’d never heard of a warlock hunting down a thief - but then I’d never heard of anyone with balls big enough to rob from a warlock. Neither had Grist, by the confused fear on his face. No one said a word. No one moved.\n\nI waited a moment, for the sound of the guilty one panic and bolt. Everyone seemed to be waiting for that - even the warlock. After a dozen heartbeats, nothing had happened. Then I heard the warlock move away from the door, moving with a hunter cautious confidence deeper into the room. Tension prickled the back of my neck, down my spine as those footsteps wound their way around mismatched tables, closer and closer.\n\nThe fear that showed on Grist’s face told me it was him the Warlock was coming for. The frantic, nervous way he looked between me and the approaching magic-weaver. He looked ready to run when those steps came to a stop behind my chair. His scent was almost like the shore, unusual yet unmistakable. There was ambergris mixed with it, and a rich tobacco.\n\n“You. Stand up.” I watched how the last colour in Grist’s haggard face drained, how his eyes widened, but he didn’t move. Why didn’t he move?\n\nA hand closed on my nape, pinching hard, cool bands of metal and even cooler fingers biting, dragging me sideways off my seat. I yelped in surprise and struggled not to fall to the floor - which was helped by another hand catching the front of my shirt and twisting to get a sure grip. I still staggered, my body bumping into the Warlock as he forced me to turn to face him. What I saw made my insides turn to ice.\n\nHe had dark hair, long and straight with a few licks of silver among the darkness. His mouth was thin and twisted in displeasure. His features looked alarmingly familiar, striking a new, different fear in me though I was too panicked to figure out why. But his eyes, his eyes. They were a solid black. No iris, no whites. Just terrible blackness.\n\nI’d never seen a Warlock in person before - but no stories I’d heard of them mentioned their eyes.\n\nHis expression turned vicious, an insane grin that bared his teeth. I thought he was about to bite me, but instead he said in a purr like a river freezing, “And here I was thinking you were just an old ring.”", "His eyes were dark, and there was nothing in them.\n\n\"You ok?\" I said, smiling at him over the bar, as he sat there, slumped forward, oblivious to everything around him. He slowly lifted his head, looking up at me with that dark, empty expression of his. \"I'll have another please\", he said quietly, gesturing with the empty glass in his hand. \"Coming right up\" I said cheerily, keeping my eyes on him as I poured another pint of ale. A group of students at the other end of the bar suddenly cheered loudly as they downed a round of tequila shots. He slowly turned his head and shot silent daggers in their direction. Despite this hostility and the obvious morose and empty look in his eyes I was already warming to him. He had soft features and a very slight frame, definitely not physically threatening. And the way he spoke belied the deadness in his eyes, he spoke with a soft, kind voice, which stood in stark contrast to all those around him. I reckoned he was about the same age as me, around 21. I liked him.\n\n\"Something tells me you're drowning your sorrows\" I said brightly, as I slid the pint glass across the bar in his direction. \"Perceptive\" came the response, head raised but not quite looking me in the eye. \"Well I'm a people person I guess\", I said smiling, maintaining my gaze in his direction. \"That's something I've never been\" he sighed, looking down again. \"Well you're a downer aren't you\" I exclaimed cheerily, trying my best not to appear overbearing. \"What's your name?\" \"Matt\" he replied, finally looking me straight in the eye. \"Nice to meet you Matt, I'm Katie\". \"Nice to meet you too Katie\".\n\nI was getting somewhere. \"So what seems to be the problem Matt, what's your story?\" \"What's my story?\" He suddenly seemed a little more animated, some life returning to his dark empty eyes. \"Believe me Katie you do no want to hear my story, it's long, boring and pretty sad to be honest.\" \"Well that's where you're wrong, I do want to hear it. You never know, it might help cheer you up.\" \"That's really kind but I think I'm past that.\" \"I guarantee you're not Matt. Come on, tell me what's up.\" \n\n\"My life's over.\" \"What?\" \"My life... Is over\" he said slowly and deliberately, spitting out the words as though doing so would help him breathe more easily. I was perplexed. \"What do you mean your life is over? Your life is never over until it's over. No matter how bad things are.\" My smile was slipping as the seriousness of his expression was starting sink in.\n\n\"Well, my father and brother are dead, my Mum and my sisters are all the family I have left and to be honest that has all fallen apart. Happiness is a luxury that's out of my price range.\"\n\nShocked into silence for a second, I looked deep into his eyes and replied \"I'm so sorry, that's awful.\" It was all I could think to say. I mean, this certainly wasn't the conversation I'd been expecting, I thought maybe a girl had broken up with him. \"What happened?\"\n\nHe looked deep into my eyes in a way that sent a brief chill down my spine. \"Are you a religious person Katie?\"\n\n\n\nNot sure if I should continue or not, got a bit carried away with the detail! First time writing a WP!", "His eyes were dark, and there was nothing in them. Everyone was wondering what could have done this to Yego. The others were dead aswell, their bodies spread on the floor, heavily scarred and burnt. They were all old acquaintances. \n\n\"Were they eaten?\", Nara asked, referring to Yego's eyes. \n\n\"Nope, scorched.\", Yago said, uneasy. He could barely look upon his twin brother. \"I'm gonna fucking kill whoever did this. I swear.\"\n\nI had gotten to the grotto first. They had seen me inspecting the dead bodies when they entered it too. After doing some inspection of her own, Nara turned to me for answers. \"Did you see who did this?\" I didn't answer right away. \"Did you?\" \n\n\"Yes, and it left something behind.\"\n\n\"What? Do you have it?\"\n\n\"I have it right here. Let me show you.\", I gave her the signal.\n\n\"Yes, do it!\", she yelled excitedly.\n\nI pulled a pistol from under my blouse and shot Yago in the head. Then I threw the lighter against her. \"Burn his eyes, Nara.\"\n\nShe did it, giggling. And then I killed her.", " One late night after a party at Monica’s house, he asked if he bores me. \n\n “No,” I told him immediately. “I’m only bored if I can’t express myself. And with you I’m always just me, and I can say whatever. And I’m not- you don’t bore me.”\n\n “All I ever wanted was to be your good listener.”\n\n His dark eyes were beautiful, gloomy and dark, a young cuddled moon in lids of white brown, staring at me at late night, snowy march. I loved those eyes.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n In two months and nine days it will be our second anniversary. It will be two years since I first saw his dark eyes, his wavy, fluffy, hair that I’ve seen colored purple more than I’ve seen in its natural dark brown. The first few months, he would pretend, he laughed. He giggled like a sonnet. A gospel I adored. But the closer we got, the more natural he became. More confidently somber, less excited. It’s like every day he would learn to see less things, fall out of love with something he used to enjoy. His eyes were dark and he pretended to see things.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n After a few months, even the sex became raw and stiff. The heat of the moment blurred, and the kissing overshadowed by the rapid thrusts. When we read in silence, snuggled in the room’s cyan couch, as is our ritual since he moved in with me, he would no longer laugh, awkwardly, at certain points. The Unbearable Lightness of Being no longer made him cry or wince. His eyes were dark and slowly dying.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n “Are you happy?” I asked him one other night at one other party. Rachel and Mike’s patio. Dimly-lit, three tables of different shapes. And me, him, and his dark eyes.\n\n “A little bit,” he said. He liked to burn matches. Blank, silent, just burning matches. One after another. I loved every single one of his I-love-you’s but he seemed to love them less each time. A little, tiny, bit less. A friction of affection lost each time that you don’t notice until the accumulated loss hits you at once. He no longer reread The Unbearable Lightness of Being. And when he rewatched Seinfeld, he no longer ever laughed. His eyes were dark, and never stared at one thing for too long.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n By the time it was a year and a half into our relationship, he had stopped painting. All the books in his shelf accumulating dust. Every morning he’d go to work exactly at 8, and be back at exactly the right time. He slept a lot, and his daily showers became sporadic, almost weekly. His purple hair retaining its natural dark brown. I cuddled with him on the couch last Sunday, still wearing his black shirt from work. I told him we should go on a road trip. I told him I bought us both new colognes. I told him I started watching The Mentalist. I told him to tell me how his day was. I told him I loved him, every wrinkle and flaw, every pleasant surprise, every new thing I learn about him everyday. But His eyes were dark. His eyes were dark and there was nothing in them.\n", "There was no knock at the door. No stirring gust of wind as a window popped open and certainly no breaking glass. The house was quiet. Calm.\n\nDavid Holland had an active bladder, he had been to the doctor many times, asking about this very issue, but he had been assured it was not diabetes (the tests confirmed) and his prostate was normal. David just had a small bladder. He was born that way, and there was nothing he could do about it. \n\nSo, at 4 AM, in the dead silence of the night, he awoke and found himself stumbling towards the bathroom. The loudest sound in the house was his piss hitting the water. Even louder was the sound of the toilet flushing.\n\nDavid stumbled back towards his room. The restroom was across from his bedroom, but somehow on the way back David tripped, and fell on his back. The fall woke him, slightly, and he brushed hard at the crust around his eyes. As his vision was able to focus again he saw what he had tripped on. A man stood before him, in the low light of what would soon be dawn.\n\nDavid had never seen him before. Shadows fell about him as he moved forward, and lifted David up with both hands around his throat. A scream was cut off in David's throat as the back of the gargantuan hand fell across his jaw. David's vision exploded in streaks of light and television fuzz. A bit of blood and a piece of something from in his mouth drooped down, staining the floor.\n\nDavid tried again to say something, but the giant's hand came across his face again in the same languid yet powerful motion. David was silent as the behemoth pulled him in close, mixing the acrid odor of his blood in with the stale foulness coming from between the giant's teeth.\n\nDavid could only stare, silent, as the man grinned and squeezed down. David twitched, spasmed, thrashed, tore madly at the iron hands that were slowly choking his life away. The stranger stared, full of a palpable apathy. David stared, his eyes slowly fading away. In the last moments of clarity he could see someone behind the giant, stuffing his things into a bag. \n\nAnd in the end David was left looking into his murder's eyes.\n\nHis eyes were dark, and there was nothing in them.", "\"Your eyes are so dark and beautiful,\" whispered Julie in her seductive voice as Adam embraced her. \"It's like I could get lost inside them. Like there is nothing in them.\"\n\nAdam immediately pushed Julie away from his body. \n\n\"Umm,\" he started. \"Nothing inside them? What about vitreous humour? Lenses? Ciliary muscles?\" Adam looked quite visibly angry. Julie was taken aback by Adam's behaviour and she began to cry. But Adam wasn't finished with her yet. \"For God's sake. The RETINA?\" \n\nAdam stomped over to the bed and put his shirt and jeans back on. He wasn't about to waste his time with some dumb bimbo who didn't even know basic human anatomy. " ]	7
	[WP] In a dystopian future, doctors are expected to euthanize sick patients. You're the first in a hundred years to save someone.	[ "Hospitals used to be heralded as our saviours, just as Gods and monsters once were. Now they only save us the pain of a scream-induced death, as they slowly increase the liquid in our drips, or whatever it is we're supposed to do, until we're gone and can do no more. This was not why I became a doctor.\n\nI gained my degree as all others probably do: that is, I spent three or four years of my time, pondering over this and that, for a course that gave me the right to stand here and say, \"I'm a doctor. You're not (I would pause and point here), but I am.\" Of course those three or four years was also sprinkled, rather excessively, with nights out and alcohol, but hey, isn't that what university is actually about? It's not about the debt, or the education, it's about the sex and the booze – right?\n\nShe was lying on the bed when I arrived, her chart on the end of her bed told me she was perfectly capable of making a full recovery, but I had my orders: my orders came from above, in the higher ups of the private company that took over this hospital about a hundred years ago – my orders were simple: keep hospital beds clear, clear of life that is.\n\nIt was decided, when all the private companies finally managed to leech their way into the world's healthcare systems as the primary providers, that, rather than treating those who were sick, it was easier to kill those in their care to make a profit, than actually delivering the healthcare they claimed: of course they didn't do this themselves, no blood ever touched their skin as it touched mine, as it touched my colleagues. There is little point in complaining when you cannot change anything.\n\nSo she was lying there, and I knew she knew – or thought she knew – what was coming for her. It was probably a husband, could be a wife, or a child, it didn't matter which, she'd experienced it already: she knew. This was not why I became a doctor.\n\n\"I've made my will,\" she says to me, as I return the chart to the foot of the bed, and glance around at the private room I find myself within. I nod: what do I say to that? What can I say to that? Here is a person, ill now, but that could be better soon, and she's already bequeathed her feather boa to her cat, Candice, or something. In the old days, I believe it was customary to wish the patient well, but now we just nod. So I do.\n\nIt dawns on me, as I leave the room to check on another patient, that I have a clear obligation to this woman: yes, I could save any woman or man in this whole hospital, but it is this woman I'm drawn to, the woman with the feather boa-wearing cat, or not if that turns out to be the case. I have a duty of care to this woman, and will do until she leaves me, either the traditional way, or the way she actually deserves to: a clean bill of health, and back to her cat life or non-cat life.\n\nThere are medicine stores, I go there for what I need. I need just enough anaesthetic to knock her out. I know where to go. This is not why I became a doctor, but it is a lot closer than the alternative. I will save this woman. ", "\"Well, my boyfriend broke up with me and my cat died… I just feel like I’m falling back into all of my usual patterns… I can’t stop crying….\"\n\nHow much are you sleeping? How much do you exercise? \nDo you hear or see things that other people don’t hear? Do you have worrying thoughts that you aren’t able to control? How often do you slash your wrists or think about it?\nI ask all of the typical questions. \n\nThis is one of my trickier cases, believe it or not. 80% of my patients in my past 21 years of practice I have euthanized. This is standard psychiatry. These rates have been fairly consistent in the field for over 100 years. 80% of the people who walk through my door have a history of schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, anorexia, clinical depression, mild to moderate depression, self-harming behaviours, etc. The other fifth tend to be hypochondriacs, mis-referred, and/or dealing with a legitimate short term life issue that will pass. \n\nThis patient, Roz, is one of the few who I am not so sure about. I suggest she comes back in four weeks’ time. She stares at me with damp, desperate eyes. I’m really not sure if she is more desperate for her boyfriend to come back, for me to put her out of her misery, or for her cat to dig himself out of his grave. I’m glad I might be able to help though. But I don’t want to be too hasty. Break-ups tend to mess with people. Especially women. \n\nThis is my last patient for the day. I start packing up to head home. I feel a nagging uncomfortable feeling. It never feels good to have to tell a patient to come back. I try to tell myself it’s not my fault, it was a necessary choice for the patient, it is NOT a sign of personal failure. But I continue to feel uncomfortable. \nI take something from the staff pharmaceutical stash before I leave to manage my emotions, say goodbye to my colleagues, and can feel it kicking in before I make it down to the first floor and out the front doors. \nThe evening sun is a little brighter than it should be. Tomorrow will be a better day. \n\nOn the way home I stop for a green shake and then use the mobile treadmill around the waterwall. By the time I get home I feel great. I fall asleep feeling numb and wake up refreshed.\n\nThe next day I euthanize a 43 year old schizophrenic male named Alfreed, a 21 year old transgender person named Biannco, and a gay couple aged 33 and 54, one of which claimed to have dissociative identity disorder, and the other was bulimic, named Ricardo and Zaib.\n\nI felt great. It really is just uber-satisfying to know that I am performing my job well, efficiently, accurately, and ethically. It feels so good at the end of the day.\nBut I just couldn’t shake that interaction with Roz. She said she couldn’t stop crying. She said she was returning to her old patterns. What was I thinking?\nI tried not to be too hard on myself. I did have to use extra pharmaceuticals to enact this, which is part of company policy, and encouraged. Realistically, I knew that not anyone, even medical and mental health practitioners, are perfect. Everyone is harder on theirself. I vowed to do the right thing when the time came. At least I had a second chance, and it was fast approaching.\n\nI was between clients, sorting through some paperwork, when the front desk staff alerted me that I had a call. It’s common to get referrals around that time in the afternoon; I asked them to transfer it to my line. Absently, I answered it.\n\n“Dr Alvarez”\n\n\"Thank you SO much.\"\n\nI was confused. I didn’t recognize the voice. I do take a lot of pride in my work, and feel very much that I am helping others, as I am. But I don’t get thanked very often. Those who I am helping are dead. \n\"Oh, I’m sorry – It’s Roz Whitman. I was in your office three weeks ago. I am calling to say thank you so much for SAVING me. I thought I was completely lost, I didn’t know what to do. And your advice around exercise completely saved my life. I have been exercising every day since I saw you, and it has completely improved my mood. I had NO idea something so relatively simple could make such a huge difference for me. And to think I could have DIED. You are a fantastic doctor. I didn’t even know that saving people was part of your job description. Thank you so much. I owe you my life. I won’t be needing to come back to my follow up appointment. I will be highly recommending you!\" – CLICK\n\n“Wait – No!”\nIt was too late. She had quickly hung up.\nPanic set in. Terror. Nausea. \nI had “saved” her? “Advice”? Hadn’t I just asked the standard questions about exercise? Had I absently thrown in a piece of information about my own trips around the waterwall? \nI suddenly threw up- luckily, in my wastebasket. Quickly I washed it out in the sink in my office and sanitized the basket, and sprayed some scent neutralizer kept on site for patients with poor hygiene who have not yet been euthanized. \n\nI could be fired for this. I grabbed a couple of pharmaceuticals from under my desk – one for terror and one for nausea. \n\nSaving people is definitely not part of my job description. \n", "When did this world give up? What could drive a species to kill off their weak? What alternatives could there possibly be?\n\nStupid questions. They all were. The answers were etched in black and white across newspapers, websites, television scrollers before the Coalition took over and gradually silenced them. Those who could remember such a time numbered just two, including myself.\n\nThis world gave up when it hit capacity. We'd been growing exponentially for centuries, millennia even. Cities had grown and combined to cover continents. Crime was through the roof. Something had to be done if the species expected any sort of survival. And so, something was done.\n\nThe surge of the Coalition never came as a shock to any of the 42 billion humans on this planet. How could it? Few outside the Coalition were even aware of its existence, and even that meager number dwindled as disappearances rose. \n\nI was born into it; raised with the ideals hardwired within my psyche. When the Coalition made its silent coup d'état just days after my 7th birthday, it was just the plan that had been carefully brainwashed into me being realized. I’m now 83, a crime in and of itself.\n\nI was once a Doctor, bred by the Coalition for the position. The word burned like poison through my mind as I thought it. The title of Doctor had historically been one of pride, and many of my comrades still clung to this false source of hubris, but not I. There was no medicine anymore, no treatments. Well, one medicine... for one treatment… \n\nThe first Necessity was to infiltrate and cease all medical practices worldwide. What rationalization could there be for aiding ailments or procuring cures when the world is in such dire need of a lesser population? \n\nI had but two options for each patient that walks into my office. Immediate execution and carcass incineration or, in cases of rare or unseen diseases, shipment to the CCFTHQ (Central Coalition Task Force Headquarters) for study and large scale biological warfare weaponization. \n\nBut not this time. Not her. She must live. She must live to give birth to her child. To our child.\n\nTo this world’s last hope.", "\"You know why you're here.\" The voice was deep, and immediately commanded the entire presence of the room, and yet it did not seem angry. \n\n\"I do, sir,\" The paradox in his tone leading to a hint of uncertainty in my answer. \n\n\"You cured a defective citizen. We don't do that. Not for anyone.\"\n\nDefective citizen. Samuel, the six year old child with influenza and the five thousand other patients that were in my hospital that day were seen nothing more than defective citizens. Everyone that walked into my hospital to be treated never came out. The government makes us put every patient out of their misery, regardless of ailment. The deadliest disease in my hospital is the common cold.\n\n\"I've been working as a doctor for fifteen years, and have sent my fair share of patients into the recovery room. I just wanted one thank you note for my services.\" I was already in the shitter, so I didn't see any need in being respectful. \n\n\"You don't need to explain to me why you did it. I know why you did it.\"\n\n\"I just wanted, for once, to save someone. It doesn't take a genius to figure that one out.\"\n \n\"That is not why you did it. You might tell yourself that fifteen years of pent up aggression with a system that first trained you in how to save lives, and then had you promptly neglect all that training in order for you to become a proxy for the angel of death set forward the events that led to you being here in front of me, but that is just not true. You are, in fact, here because of your arrogance. You are here because you believe you knew better than the last one hundred years of physicians, better than the last one hundred years of policymakers who have kept this country from being completely destroyed, you are here because you believe that you are the only one who felt disillusioned with the system, and you are here because you believe it in your heart that what you did today was heroic. Now, I am not here to discipline you. I am here to tell you why what you did was wrong, and why what you did could have brought down this whole country. Thankfully it didn't, and this is because we got to Samuel before any harm could be done. His ashes were disposed of about two hours ago.\"\n\nFirst prompt I've ever done, pretty much stuck here. No idea what possible justification there could be to kill every patient, so instead of focusing on the actual process of saving someone, I pictured the aftermath and the surrounding government and such. ", "I looked him straight in the eyes, only a young man though he looked much older. I could see the fear in his eyes almost accepting his fate. \n\n\"I'm sorry...its just the way things are.\" I said grimly. \n\nHe must have noticed my cold tone. It wasn't that I didn't care, I couldn't care. This part of the job became second nature. Part of the routine. Doctors worldwide adopted the policy at the turn of the 22nd century. \n\n\"I understand but I'm sure there is something you can do...we can just keep it between us right?\" He stuttered desperately.\n\nI handed him a pamphlet titled \"Accepting Death\" a standard procedure for all my patients. The role of doctors changed over the years. When I was a child they were known as protectors, carers and people who would help you and make you feel better. It all changed after the Crop Wars. There is never going to be enough food to feed the masses. We can no longer take care of the sick. \n\n\"I can talk you through it after you have had a moment to clear your head.\" I said calmly stepping out to give the man some space. He glanced up from the pamphlet, tears in his eyes. \n\n\"Okay. Just give me 5 minutes\" He said softly with a somewhat forced smile.\n\nI closed the door behind me and went out the back for a cigarette. The damp humid air wouldn't keep me outside for long. Before I could inhale the last drag I heard a crash followed by the sounds of shattering glass. I immediately tossed the cigarette but into the alley and flung open the metal door to return to my office. Before I had a chance the young man pushed his way passed, his strength overpowering me, pushing me to ground. \n\n\"You aren't authorised to leave! You need to come back or I'll call the police!\" Shouted the nursed clearly distressed. \n\nI regained my breath and stood up preparing to give chase, knowing an escaped patient would likely be the end of my career. I ran through the damp dreary alley way towards the bus stop on the corner of the street. The man, despite suffering from an illness had far more stamina than myself as he slowly gained a greater lead. \n\nMy luck turned when a passing peace officer noticed the scuffle and pulled his vehicle in front of the young man. Just like that it was over. The man was no match for the strength of a government officer. He was wrestled the ground with a boot pressed into his face.\n\n\"He one of yours?\" The the officer asked sternly. \n\nI looked down at the man and I felt something I hadn't felt in years. Empathy. This man wasn't the tyrant government propaganda portrayed the sick as. He was somebodies brother, husband and son. \n\n\"He...is a friend of mine. We just had a little disagreement.\" I lied. I couldn't let this man be imprisoned and likely tortured to save my own ass. \n\n\"We'll get your friend back inside I can't have people running around thee streets like that.\" The office loosened his grip and nudged the mans limp body towards the kerb. \n\nAs the officer left the man looked up at me. \"Why did you do that? You could have ended up in jail?\"\n\n\"I can help you...I can't keep living this way\" I stammered. \n\n\"Help me what? Escape?\" He replied.\n\n\"No I can help save you, we have the medicine. I know it's breaking the law but someone needs to make changes. It wasn't always this way.\"\n\n\"You mean you can actually cure me? I don't have to die?\" Hope filled his eyes, his face lit up with an almost cautious joy.\n\n\"Doctors used to be healers. Believe me...there was a reason I choose this profession and it wasn't to end lives...there was once a time where we saved them\" I grabbed the mans hand and slowly walked him back to the office. \n\n\"You will have to come with me, there is no safety at the office. They will always be watching over me\" I said \n\nI took the man into my car I knew it wasn't going to be an easy mission. But if there is going to be any change in the world, if I am going to make a difference. I have to change the world one patient at a time. And it starts today. \n", "Just doing my job. \n\nThey plead, they cry, they sometimes scream. My answer never changes. Then the needle goes in, and they stop, fading into sleep.\n\nJust doing my job.\n\nA friend said that they'll have robots doing my job in a couple of years. Until then, I'm the closest thing they've got. It didn't come naturally at first. No, it took countless nights staring into the mirror, steadying my expression, perfecting my tone, chewing on those bitter words until my tongue was numbed to them. It took sixty-three procedures, after which, I stopped counting.\n\nThe first patient today was a boy of twelve years. Broken arm. Unlike the others, he lays still, staring silently at the ceiling. My four word mantra comes out anyway, cutting off pleas that were never voiced. The needle goes in once more. \n\nDisconcerting, but it's not my place to dwell. He's rolled out, and the next patient comes in soon after. It's another child, this time an eleven-year old girl with a deep cut on her leg, possibly infected by now. Her face was pale and dry. Perhaps she was already a ghost, because like the boy, she makes no sound nor movement as I bustle around the room, reassuring nobody in particular that this is just my job. She leaves the room in the same way, except her eyes are closed now.\n\nThroughout the day, more patients come and go. To my guilty relief, a handful are talkers, but the majority are unusually silent. The unnerving silence takes its toll on me; by the end of the day, I'm ready to anesthetize myself and pass out on a gurney.\n\nNear the end of my shift, another girl rolls in. Eleven, with a deep cut on her leg. I almost drop the disinfectant. Was this the same girl from earlier today? Her image aligns with my memory: everything is the same, from the slash of the cut to the expressionless face. It can't be, though. Impossible. She doesn't say anything, even though I've been staring at her for five minutes now.\n\n\"Just doing my job.\" This time, I say it to compose myself. The needle goes in, and it's time to wheel her back out. Memories from ten years ago swell in my head, back when I was studying to become a surgeon rather than an anesthesiologist. Suturing. We still keep the equipment around even if we no longer perform it. The needle feels new in my hand, but not altogether unfamiliar. My movements are automatic, but honed rather than dulled. I catch a glimpse of a smile as I finish sewing up her leg. A blink, and it's gone; she's still asleep, and her face is devoid of any emotion.\n\nA knock on the door. \"What's the hold up?\" Brown enters the room and sees my handiwork. \"Jameson, I didn't expect this from you. You know how it is. We'll get in trouble if the higher-ups see this.\"\n\nI nodded contritely, but Brown wasn't convinced. \"Look, there are patients I want to save too, but we can't just pick or choose. If you want things to change, you gotta do it all at once. Until then, just keep your nose to the grindstone and don't think about it too much.\" \n\nWith that, he wheeled the girl out, replacing her with my final patient for today. A boy with a broken arm, who once again treated me to a stony silence.\n\nI didn't look at him as I disinfected the needle. \"Just doing my job.\" ", "The man, if you could call him that, repulsed me. In parts his skin was peeling and beginning to fall off. Deep gashes that were cut into his now rotting torso left bleeding and infected wounds. He had lost most of one arm, and all of one leg. The smell reminded me of a whale that had washed up on the beach some years before. I was raised to despise creatures like this. \n\nHe was ill, sick and infected. He was impure. \n\nAnd yet the same feeling came as before. That nagging, clawing sensation at the bottom of my stomach. I felt pity for this man. Complete and utter pity. Perhaps it was this, and the knowledge that I knew I could heal this creature, that I broke the code of society. That day, I did not order his execution like so many others before him. Instead, I altered the course of his life. ", "It wasn't always like this. They say that from the first day a pre-med student takes their first freshman biology class to the day he or she graduates with their PhD, almost 60% of what he or she learns becomes obsolete, or even totally untrue. \n\nFor those 8 years I spent in school, it wasn't the science that I learned that had become obsolete. During my undergraduate years, I learned physiology, medicine, etc, all in hopes of helping cure diseases and well, helping people. With the rapid increase of prices for each hospital visit as well as the large upswing in the human population, all while the economy faltered and natural resource reserves plummeted, euthanasia became legal in all 50 states, and soon became the norm for dealing with severe illnesses and disabilities. In the year 2026, with the population nearly 30 billion, euthanasia became mandatory practice for anyone not well-connected.\n\nIt pains me to say, my job has dulled me from my very humanity. 2 decades of unplugging life-support systems, injecting cyanide in the mentally ill and handicapped has become routine for me. I know myself, as a college freshman in 2016 might read this horrified, it is impossible to explain or justify, but when society believes the systematic killing of billions is the only way to a sustainable future, there is very little I can do about it.\n\nIt was a Saturday evening at the clinic. I had been on call, as Maurice, one of my co-workers, had ironically called in sick. I jokingly said if I had to cover for him one more time, he would be the one I euthanized. He didn't find my joke funny.\n\nWhen I got there, Maurice was surprisingly there, his young son, standing behind him. \n\n\"Maurice, I thought you were sick today?\" I asked.\n\nMaurice's eyes failed to met mine.\n\n\"It's Sammy. He's, well, he's not so great,\" said Maurice, quietly.\n\n\"Tell me what happened?\" \n\n\"Well, uh, yesterday morning, Sammy's teacher called me up saying he had a fever. Well, I took him to my friend whose a pediatrician, and well...\"\n\n\"Well, what?\"\n\n\"Well, let's just say Sammy, well, he's dying. He's been diagnosed with bone cancer. The cells in his body that are meant to make bone tissue are reacting against him,\" Sammy said.\n\n\"Is it treatable?\"\n\n\"Yo, you know the rules as good as anyone. I guess it's what I get for being the son of a janitor, we don't have that kind of money, and even if I did, we'd get capitol punishment for it,\" said Maurice.\n\n\"That's not what I asked. Is bone cancer treatable?\"\n\n\"Yeah, with radiation theorapy and some of those rich people drugs, Sammy might have a chance. But even thinking about it-\"\n\nI cut him off. It told Sammy to follow me. He reluctantly obliged, taking one look back at his father. I had ironically never treated bone cancer. For almost a decade, I learned how to treat different forms of cancer, and for more than a decade, I had been unlearning it.\n\nFor the first few weeks, Sammy was in a bad way. Maurice had gone AWOL, probably fearing for his own safety. He handed in his notice, and that was the last I had ever seen him. I had to use the clinic secretly, to treat Sammy, and many times, we almost got caught. \n\nOn October 27th, 2042, Sammy Maurice Jones, 11, was declared dead, his remains cremated by the government. In reality, Sammy had been in my clinic, taking the illegal government treatments meant for the modern day Bourgeoisie. \n\n\"Is my daddy ever coming back?\" asked Sammy.\n\n\"I'm not sure,\" I responded.\n\nBy January, Sammy, albiet much skinnier and malnourished, was declared, by me, as cancer-free. For those few friends who knew the secret, we celebrated. For the next five years, I lived peacefully...\n\nOne night, my wife and I were woken up by a loud knock. It was the NYPD. I had been charged with the illegal treatment of the 1st degree, punishable by death. It was a high profile case, my name dragged through the dirt. I was called a traitor, a liar, a reckless disregarder of the well-being of society. On the stand in front of hundreds of camera (so much for the now-repealed 6th amendment), I was guilty on all charges. \n\nSo, here I sit, guilty, not for the countless murders that I committed but rather for the one I didn't commit, about to be injected by the same vile serum I refused to give to Sammy. Maybe I deserved this I couldn't expect anyone reading this to understand why I did what I did. Not for Sammy, that I do not regret, but to those countless people who I couldn't save, or more specifically, wouldn't save. It never hit close to home, it was always a strangers face, one wearing the design of resignation. As the black fluid was being prepped, I eyed it nervously, wondering what it was like to die. As the sharp needle entered my veins, a sharp burning sensation filled my blood-stream, and all I could see were those lost faces. ", "A young man comes into the clinic with his son who limps. The boy cries as he leans against his father. They check in and then wait in the antechamber for a doctor. A young blonde woman walks out to meet them and stops. She stares at them both. She knows them well. She does not say the name. She cannot. \n\n\"Hi honey.\" Says the man. \n\nShe rushes up to them and speaks in a whisper. \"What the hell are you doing here?\" \n\n\"Sam broke his ankle.\" \n\n\"You know what this place is. You know what I do. You promised you would never...\" \n\nThe man looks over his shoulder at the officer waiting in the street. The officer stands with his back to them. He is tall and strong and bald. The doctor looks at her husband and then to the officer for a few seconds too long. Then, she looks back at her son and bends down to one knee to look him in the eyes. She places her hands on his shoulders. \n\n\"Hi Sam, honey. Come on back, it's going to be okay.\" \n\n\"No, mommy, please...\"\n\nShe picks him up, though only a five year old, he is heavy. Sam doesn't fight her too much and hugs his mommy. She carries him to her examination room and places him on the soft table. She pulls the man inside and closes the door. She examines her son. She sets the bone and leaves the room. She returns and begins to fasten a cast around his leg. They wait for it to harden. The doctor forges papers and gives them to her husband. \n\n\"What do they say?\" \n\n\"Sam has a clean bill of health. He fell and scraped his knee. Go, please, go now. We may still pull this off.\" \n\nThe father carries his son back to the antechamber and outside where the police officer waits. He looks at them confused. \n\n\"Stop, stop. Did your son not receive treatment?\" \n\n\"Doc gave him a clean bill of health. Just a scraped knee. No need for treatment.\" \n\n\"No no, follow me.\" He grabs the father by his coat sleeve and pulls them back inside. The officer talks to the receptionist. \n\n\"We need a second opinion.\" \n\nThe father's heart beats rapidly. He holds his son close and tries to hold back his tears. Another doctor emerges, and the father is terrified. This man is a stranger. \n\n\"Examine the boy.\" Says the officer. \n\n\"Daddy?\" Says Sam.\n\n\"It's okay, Sammy.\" \n\nThe doctor looks him over. His father continues to hold him. He checks the injured leg last where he sees the cast. He looks at it with horror that turns into amusement. The doctor looks up and locks eyes with the mortified father. \n\n\"Clean bill of health. I appreciate your devotion, officer, but they can go home.\" \n\nThe officer tips his cap and leaves the clinic. The man holds his son and looks at the doctor. He just nods and winks. \n\n\"I'm an old school doctor. Keep him inside for a few weeks. Your wife does good work. I became a doctor in the hopes that things might change.\" He leans in and whispers to them. \"In this world, saving even one life might start a revolution. Thank you.\"\n\nOne tear rolls down the man's cheek. He turns and walks outside. They head home. \n\n***\n\nIf you like story, check my out my subreddit: r/nickkuvaas. " ]	9
	[WP] You have been chosen by God to create a new natural law of the Universe, but first you must justify how your law wouldn't break any of the others.	[ "“It’s a compatibility issue. You can’t change anything that’s already here,” He said, “everything’s built on something else, and if you alter the wrong thing it can all come crashing down.”\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe voice of God was simultaneously comforting and unnerving. It was less like He was speaking to you than speaking from and to everything at once. His words were made up of strange harmonics more so than mere syllables.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“This won’t interfere with anything,” I insisted. It was amazing how weak and ineffectual I sounded speaking after the force of nature that was Him.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“You can’t claim to know that. I chose you for this privilege because I consider you the wisest of your kin. I would have expected you to have the insight to know that things are connected in a way beyond your limited comprehension.”\n\n&nbsp;\n\nIf The Voice could frown I felt like it would have been just now. I spat out a grovelling apology, although I’m sure He knew exactly how sincere I was. They’d always said that God knew everything, and he’d given me no reason for doubt so far.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“I forgive your lapse, for it was preordained even before I summoned you here,” the voice replied. The implication was clear enough. He had known what I was going to do even while I, the doer, had not. My sense of pride was somewhat offended, but it wasn’t as if I could argue.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe’d invited me here with the promise that I could ask for any law I chose to be enacted across creation’s bleak darkness. It was the ultimate gift, given for reasons I didn’t know and probably couldn’t have comprehended if I did.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI’d always had a reputation for being headstrong and impulsive, but confronted with this opportunity even I had the good sense to still my racing soul and think things through. The possibilities were limited only by my imagination – and the pesky stipulation that my choice couldn’t interfere with anything that already existed. That was the difficult part. Making a case to the architect of creation himself that my desire wouldn’t cause the overwrought complex of natural governance he’d already constructed to come tumbling down.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“I know what I want…” I began, essentially just thinking out loud as I tried to reason my way to an acceptable request.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“I know what you want too. But it would destroy the natural balance.”\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“Surely there must be ways around it?” I appealed, once again unnerved at his ability to pluck the thoughts from my mind like ants off a hot sidewalk.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“There are.” The Voice stated simply. He didn’t offer up an explanation of what any of those might be.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“What if…” I trailed off again as my mind attempted to catch up with my words. Apparently He wanted me to play this guessing game. What purpose an all powerful deity could possibly see in that I couldn’t imagine.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“What if my law only affected a small place? Some small, unimportant place where nothing ever happens?” I asked. “I could go there and enjoy the…benefits…of the new law while it never so much as touched the rest of the universe.”\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe solution seemed far too simple to be the right one, but nothing was absurd enough to discard out of hand. Not when I was just a finger’s breadth away from seizing my most primal desire.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“That…would be acceptable,” God replied. My heart skipped a beat. I could scarcely believe that my desperate proposal had found traction.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“Then let me have what I want!” I exclaimed, a little too eagerly. “Please.”\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“And what would that be?” The Voice asked. Now it was just mocking me.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“You know what I want!” I insisted, “Let there…let there be light!”\n\n&nbsp;\n\nAnd in the little corner of the universe that I’d demanded, there was light. And I saw that it was good. I was the law of nature now just as I had wished…at least in one very small corner of the void.", "\"Look, you keep telling me that it's breaking the law of thermodynamics. Please, explain. Explain exactly how.\" \n\"Ok, well, I don't know. It's like - what if it leads to situations that result in the reverse of Entropy?\" \nGod was never very descriptive. \n\"What situations? Are you just making this up?\" \n\"No, I mean legitimate, conceivable situations. It's like, let's say the heat death of the universe is imminent.\" \n\"I'm following.\" \n\"But people are still working, right, and they-\" \n\"I've already thought about this! If the heat death is imminent, people won't be able to work anymore.\" \n\"Yeah, but the law doesn't make sense anyways. It's too specific and there are ways around it.\" \n\"What ways?\" \n\"Well, I guess you know - just ways, ok?\" \nI could tell that God was getting frustrated. \n\"I promise you, this is for the best. I'm certain.\" \n\"Ok, you know what? Fine. You can have your law.\" \nAnd that's the story of how I created a universe with a $15 minimum wage." ]	2
	[WP] Write a scary story that takes place during a single minute	[ "When she woke she was frozen. Her eyes heavy, her first instinct was to bring her hands to them to rub them. But she realized quickly that she could not move her hands, could not even feel them. Nor could she feel her feet. She panicked, her heart starting to race as she meant to scream out, but her tongue was heavy in her mouth and she realized that she had forgotten how to speak.\n\nA demon sat upon her chest, cocking his head at her as he traced a line with his nail down the center of her throat, grinning at her with sharp, sparkling teeth. His tail was a dagger that reached out behind him, glimmering in the morning light of her bedroom. As she watched, paralyzed, he began to bring the knife of a tail down, aiming to stab it into her chest as she silently tried to scream.\n\n\"Amy?\" the voice came as her muscles came back to life and she turned into him, her heart pounding and her cheeks wet with tears. \"Sleep paralysis again?\" he asked her, wrapping her in his arms.\n\n\"Yeah,\" she said softly. \n\n\"It's okay,\" he answered. \"You're okay.\" ", "\"Fozzy?\" I called for the dog in the foggy post-nightmare panic. The bad dream had already faded from memory, but the general feeling of unease lingered, enveloped me in it like the clammy bedsheet I pulled down to my waist.\n\nThe clicking in the hallway was unmistakable -- it was the sound of the ever-obedient Fozzy galloping down the wooden-floored corridor to answer his master's call. The sound soothed me; Fozzy was a 65-pound sweetheart, not a frothing, hulking behemoth, but calling him up to the bed and nestling into his short fur sounded like just the balm I needed after whatever had jerked me out of sleep.\n\nFozzy bounded through the open door wild-eyed and sat on his hind legs at my side. Looking up at me from the floor, he barked once, then whimpered, a nervous and insistent whine. I reached down to pet him, and found myself stroking wet fur, a curious matter for an inside dog with no way to get into the bathroom.\n\nHe whined again, then looked past me and barked at the window behind the bed. I sat up and cautiously pulled a curtain aside, expecting to see a squirrel or cat wandering through the plain expanse of our back yard, but saw only a steady rain hitting the glass." ]	2

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