Split (1)

train · 199k rows

post_text stringlengths 0 17.5k	post_title stringlengths 8 314	comment_texts listlengths 1 74	num_stories int64 1 74
	[WP] Write a story about Winnie the Pooh and his friends surviving in the aftermath of a nuclear war.	[ "100 Acre Wood is not safe anymore. So Tigger, Rabbit, Piglet, Donkey and I have been on a journey to the capital.\nWe thought that perhaps there was some amenities left that we could salvage. So we could survive. \n\nI had lost all hope of ever finding any edible honey based on what was left of my stock piles. \n\nWithout any honey,\nI felt more and more depressed as the days crawled by but I couldn't let the guys see it. I think Donkey understood though, he would often shoot me a look like he did.\n\nAlong the way we saw what was left of our country. \n\nThere were four or five of these humans crawling and csaimering at us. They had pale yellow skin, hairless and with empty, gaping holes where their eyeballs should be. We think that their insides were all burned up. We tried to ignore them but in the end Tigger sombrely had to take a baseball bat to them and put them out of their misery. \n\nPiglet seemed to be enjoy this, he gleefully pointed out the targets and bursted out in laughter when the final blow struck their skulls. \n\nRabbit on the other hand has become very quiet. He follows us from behind as a lookout. I noticed that his coat has a lot of areas where the fur is missing. He says he is fine. \n\nI think this war has changed everybody. ", "The first to die, was Rabbit.\n\nIt had been two weeks since the bombs hit, causing ripples in the air and laying waste to everything they touched. Nobody knew what had happened to Owl. We prayed that his wings led him above the poisoned air and away from the rotting earth.\nChristopher Robin had put all his energy into building this underground shelter as soon as we got news of the war. The walls were sturdy. Nothing could get in. We were safe, he said. I looked around our little underground sanctum, glad that we had each other at least.\nKanga held Roo close to her bosom and whispered little words of hope into his ear. Sometimes when the silence was deafening, it was nice to hear Kanga's soothing words drift throughout the shelter and caress us softly. Piglet lay curled up, facing away from the rest of us. Lost in his own thoughts, perhaps. \nChristopher Robin sat cross legged at the far end of the room his face masked in shadow. We were all dangerously thin. Our bodies were starting to wilt. Our eyes didn't shine with hope or life anymore. In fact there was nothing behind our eyes. We lost our morality the day...it happened.\n\nWe try not to think about it. Christopher Robin said that eventually everything ends. It's just how-\nrumble\nWhat..?\nrumble\n\nNo.\nNo no no no no.\nPiglet was sitting bolt upright. He was staring at the far end of the room with what I can only describe as a look of sheer horror on his face. The type of panic that stabs at your soul in the hopes of making it easier to face what was coming.\nMy eyes slowly drifted towards Christopher Robin.\nHe was standing now. His eyes looked so devoid of emotion, so empty. It reminded me of heavy breath cutting through still air and graveyards at twilight. \nrumble\nChristopher Robin began to walk towards Piglet.\n'No! Christopher, please!' I wailed, my heart sinking. Piglet sat paralysed. I looked towards Kanga. She held Roo tighter than ever. I could hear her voice trembling with fear 'don't look, baby. Mama's here, don't look.'\n\nChristopher Robin lunged towards Piglet.\n\nWhat happened next was a haze of blood, sounds of skin ripping, and Piglet's bloodcurdling shrieks as Christopher Robin devoured him alive. \nThe same way he'd done Rabbit.\n\nIt was only a matter of time before we were next.\nI looked away from the remains of my best friend, now unrecognisable. The shelter would hold forever.\n\nNothing could get in. \nNobody could get out.\n" ]	2
	[WP] You are the worlds most charismatic person, you can convince anyone to do anything with a few words; the catch? You're incredibly awkward and have no idea why people listen to you.	[ "I don't know how long I've had this power. Did I have it since I was born? Was this something I gained in my teen years? Maybe I really only noticed it as I got older. In any case, it's served me well in life.\n\nI can say anything at all. People love me. They always have. I have many friends who would put their lives on the line if it meant making me happy, and no matter how hard I try, I can't get people to see the truth: I just really like saying odd things to see how far I can take it.\n\nAs I was nearing my 70th birthday, a thought occurred to me. What if I could use this power for the good of humanity? What if I could use it to change the world in a way that no one else could? If this gift, the ability to make people do anything I wanted worked, I could improve the country, no... the world.\n\n---------------------------------------\n\nIt's time. I walk out onto the stage and stare at the crowds. Huge crowd, I've never seen crowds of this size before. This may be the biggest crowd in history, though I'm sure Woodstock would be stiff competition. If this works, I'm really going to do it. I will take it all the way.\n\nI clear my throat. The audience's roaring applause finally dies down as people await my first words. I feel strange, like I've been waiting to do this my whole life. This is what it all comes down to.\n\n\"We have to build a wall.\"", "\"To be honest, I think we should ban face to face interviews\" I said to the drunken group around me, as they cheered at the third thing I'd put to the subject of \"what I'd do if I became prime minister\". It was 1am at the Hog's head- a local, run-down pub- and my girlfriend's uncle had been buying us drinks all night. Whatever I wanted, too. \n\n It was fair to say that the night so far had been a complete bender, and there had already been murmurs of a visit to the curry shop across the road, and to be honest, I couldn't stand curry, but I'd put it down to personal taste. \"Could really do with a burger though\" I added quietly. Alan who'd been sat next to me- my girlfriend's older brother- had unfortunately overheard this, and I was thinking about amending my statement when he suddenly piped up: \"John here has just said burgers. Know any places John?\". \n\n Don't get me wrong, Alan was a smart man. He had a master's in astrophysics, he was a member of Mensa, and he had also destroyed my high score in Tetris, and as master of organisation in this particular group and general ringleader, I didn't really know why he was suddenly deferring to my designs on this evening's alcohol sponges, which in this case, would be defying the group traditions; however, given that I was now somehow in charge, I could suggest one of my favourite establishments: \"Happy Kebabs Co.\". I don't think it was part of any sort of chain, and I don't think they had a particularly high regard for any form of hygiene, but I liked the guys there, and they sort of knew me. \"What about Happy Kebabs Co.?\" I suggested stiffly . \n Alan rubbed his hands together, people nodded to each other around the group, the waitress gave me a green looking cocktail I hadn't ordered, and two men standing outside of the room opened the window and offered to take our orders and go fetch us the food themselves. I myself scrunched up a little tighter and squirmed; this much attention made me cringe, and reminded me of when I was young enough for people to make a fuss of me at family gatherings- not that they'd stopped. \n\nIn spite of myself, I stopped and thought while people placed their orders- and mine- to the two men outside. Tonight was going pretty well so far, and people were seeming to be in a good mood with me; I began to wonder how far I could take this. \n\nI knew exactly where to start though. I could get someone to go to the off licence two roads down- a fair walk, as they were long roads. It was the only place I knew that sold 3 litre Barr's bubblegum soda, and I fancied a bottle. " ]	2
	[WP] While on a road trip, you stop at a diner. You are about to go in when you notice the patrons inside. Not only do you see The Grim Reaper but Santa Muerte, Hades, Osiris, Azrael, Hel, Yama and every other figure of Death. And they see you. Now you have to fake being a Death god or else...	[ "\"Ah, a new guy?.\"\n\nYou look around, confused. \" I was just...\" driving, you finish in your head. You look around again, thinking that another pass with the same eyes will help you understand.\n\n\"No. Really, I was just ...\" driving, again but more clearly this time. You were driving and.. \n\n\"Give it a second, it'll come back.\" You lock eyes with the speaker - what strange eyes you think.\n\n\"You're eyes too now,\" this from another in the room. A dark girl, pale skin with a smile that could crack a soul.\n\nIt snaps together. You were driving home late from work, you had a sleepiness on your eyes so heavy it might of well have been God's own blanket. Your eyes dropped again, but just for a second...\n\n\"Am I fucking dead?!\" It comes rushing back. You nodded off again and woke up in the air, your stomach in your chest and you heart hammering away, the water came at you so fast, you must have said \"No No no no\" a million times.\n\n\"Well, yeah, but-\" \n\n\"BUT!? !? It's a fairly yes or no question! I mean, this doesn't seem very heavenly...\"\n\n\"You're dead. You work for me now.\" You knew who he was the second he spoke. The reaper. Skeletal. Cloaked. Hooded. Black as vantablack.\n\nDeath.\n\n\"I w-work for you?\" Your mind feels... Fragmenting...everything is vivid but..impossible. No dream had ever felt like this. This is real. Just...It can't be. Other memories not your own start existing where once they didn't... Set? \n\n\"What, you think your mother gave you those eyes! hahaha\" They burst out laughing, you don't even notice who cracked the joke.\n\n\"My eyes? What does-\"\n\n\"God gave you those eyes, and in death they work for him, sorry kid but someone has to. I know, it's hard to believe, it shocked us all, well, all most all...\" Turning his head towards the reaper, the speaker looked..greek? \n\n\"God?\"\n\nThe reaper stood, such a presence rose with him that everyone turned to look - not a single one casualy. \"Humans always get close, then never finish. What makes someone themselves? Nature? Nurture? That's as far as you ever got, but you we're missing some pieces. Your soul, the will of yourself between lives. And God's will. Not everyone gets touched, but If he wants it, he makes it. You know you had special eyes, and you did, ones issued from the highest boss. And in death they were activated, you saw your death, so you drew our lot, otherwise you-\" the room collectively finches with your interruption.\n\n\"My eyes?\"\n\nYou notice a dog headed man take several seconds to recover, but with eyes still closed, and a voice inhuman - \" Never. Ever. Interrupt death. Ever.\" His eyes open, red eyes of nightmare, locked onto yours. \"God gave you eyes so that you could serve after you died. What they see in life attunes them, dictates in what capacity you will join the divine work force, but a dramatic event will do it too. You don't know this yet, but your soul is likely ancient to have been able to even earn such eyes. Soon you'll remember the deal you made, your soul made - the true you that continues between lives - for those eyes. But what ever that plan was, now you see death, so you work for us. For him.\" Another nod, but you don't even bother looking at who. You know. You stare at the ceiling, reeling - then catch yourself and shake your head.\n\n\"I don't think this is what I wanted. I always loved looking at...at.... the sun rise. I think...I think that was what I wanted...in fact I can't ever remember missing one.\"\n\nThe others look at each other, stunned. Then all heads slowly turn to the reaper...\n\nThe sun set.\n\n\"The bringer of the dawn, my brother...Rise...\" Set, with a voice on infinite age - tinged with unfathomable emotions, almost cracking- rushes to you and embraces you fiercely.\n\n\"You made it brother.\"\n\nHope you enjoyed, first piece here. Kind of late and on my phone so might have typos. \n" ]	1
	[WP] Everyone has a guardian angel that protects them. Usually, they are elegant, wise, and powerful. Your's is a drunk with a 12 gauge.	[ "Oktober 2016. The month He revealed himself. You might think: 'why do we still have conflicts over religion then, if He revealed himself?'. Well, the answer is quite simple, people want to interpret things differently. Disagree with eachother. They discuss what He said, with what religion it fits best. But that story is for another time, as this story will be about something else. About the two things that no one tdisagrees on from His revelation: Guardian angels. He explicitly told us everyone has his own. Everyone always had their own, but now they are allowed to reveal themselves. The other thing, well, if angels exist, the opposite exists too. Demons walk the earth now too. Sometimes they attach to a person, not quite as permanent as a guardian angel, but getting rid of them is really hard.\n\nBut, about the angels. Peter, a good friend of mine, for example, has a really old one. Really wise. Interesting fellow, had some great conversations with him, especially about demons. While he is not in the best state to fight demons on his own, he has a lot of different prayers to fend of every specific kind of demon, and knows how to avoid them rather than how to beat them.\n\nNatalia, a lady-friend of mine, has a middle-aged one. He is really to the point. What he lacks in wisdom he has in power, and gladly takes the fight on with every demon he meets, whether they would target Natalia or not.\n\nMine, however, is cut from a different kind of cloth. They always say the angel is supposed to reflect your own temperament, to somehow 'be like you' a bit. Well, I didn't drink THAT much, I thought. I do like to go to the shooting range, so that could explain half of it. Yes, my guardian is always drunk. Or at least, I've never seen him sober. He also has a shotgun. 12 gauge. Not only useful against demons, but against people who want to harm you too.\n\nLet me tell you a story. Around one year ago, the fifteenth of May 2017, I went out to dinner, (My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself. I am twenty-five of age right now, so twenty-four at the time of the story. My companions are around the same age, Peter two months younger, Natalia one month older.) with Peter and Natalia. We were walking on the king's street when Nat said: \"I'd go for a fish right now\". This might not seem special, but the only place where you could get fish, 'the fisher of souls', was near the harbour, in a 'fishy' alley, so to speak. Peter asked: \"Are your angels with us?\". We confirmed they were, so we went towards the 'the fisher of souls, as fish had become a bit of a rarity around here, and we all felt like fish. It was nearly empty as we entered, which put us at ease. Our angels, sat with us. Natalia's angel was silently listening, as Peter's spoke about some insights he got from a friend of his. Mine, as usual, was clearly drunk, listened, played with his 12-gauge (He kept reassuring us: \"whadaya 'fffraid of, it ain't llloaded). As we got our drinks, the few guests that were still there left, with some glances towards my angel. He laughed, hiccuped, and put away his gun. \n\nWhen Peter's angel was done with his tale, which was mostly about how to avoid demons, as usual, Nat's angel started explaining how to fight demons, would you still encounter one even with all the precautions. \"Even our weapons won't harm a demon too much, especially not if he takes his strength from an evil human. It also goes the other way around, sure, but man is not too resilient. \"It would, however, help a great deal, if you wear your silver cross, and pray for your angel. It is also important to not dwell on your sins. If a demon which feeds on greed makes you think about all the times you were greedy, he will only grow stronger. If you think about all the times you were charitable however, his strength will wane.\n\nWhile my angel was dozing of, the others asked me how I managed, with such a 'useless' angel on my side. I told them: \"If not the most useful he sure is fun to hang out with\". At that time I had never seen him in action against a demon (nor any other angel, for that matter). Nat's spoke with some mild traces of disgust in his voice: \"Well, he should not be drinking that much. How is he going to fight demons of if you are alone and need him?\" \"Well, yeah, I suppose I'm not the luckiest one\", I replied.\n\nAt some point during dinner Pete's angel got a worried look on his face: \"Let us pray,\" he spoke, \"for I sense evil coming our way\". So we prayed, ate our food, payed for dinner, but just as we stood up to leave, a group of six not-so-nice looking men entered. As said, sometimes a demon would attack him or herself to person, which was clearly the case right here. The men, all looking around thirty, except the oldest one, who seemed around fifty, blocked the way out, and suggested a 'toll' was in place, as this was 'their' bar. Peter's angel spoke first: \"let us not ruin this evening, there is no need for violence\". Upon these words, the demons attached to the men appeared, five of them succubi, one of them a demon I didn't recognise. I looked towards the inkeep, to only find an empty counter. \"Great help\", I muttered under my breath. \n\nNat's angel spoke up now, as he drew his weapons (He would wield two swords to fight demons): \"be gone, foul creatures, you can't stand against the army of heaven\". The demons, and their men, laughed at him. At that point my angel had woken up, and slurred: \"get out offf the fffucking way, I need some fffresh air\", while loading his weapon. The demons laughed again, and the demon I didn't recognise said that he would not be easily harmed, by sword or gun, and that they were in the majority. One of the succubi started talking albout chastity, or lack thereof, and it was really hard to not think of past mistakes, with the prescence of all the succubi. As the demon finished speaking, my angel aimed his gun at a succubus: \"So, will you let us pass?\" he asked. Man nor demon moved a muscle, still blocking the way, the demons knowing they would only grow in power and be harmed even less the longer they stood, as we could not manage to pray. \n\n\n\"Forggive me, Lord\", my angel slurred, as he did something totally unheard of: he shot two of the men, instead of the demons. \"You bloody mmmiscreants might be immune..... but some nice ppppieces of llllead will still ppppierce the sskin\", he muttered towards one of the succubi, as he aimed for another man, and shot again. Without man to feed on, the demons quickly lost their power, and fled away after a short fight with the other guardian angels, while my angel kept shooting untill he gun was empty. As the fight was done, and we realised what happened, we all looked at my angel in surprise, \"mmy plleasure\", he said, and after that muttered: \"Not the lluckiest one, pfah\".\n\n\n\n\n\nFirst time writing something, not sure if I took a direction people had in mind, but all the same, I'd love some pointers on my writing, as I surely could have done a lot of things better, I just don't know where.", "\"Look at these fuckers. Every last one of them. Suits, ties, and dresspants. All dressed like car salesmen at a funeral.\"\n\nSam, or Sammy as he sometimes called himself, was a rambling drunk who had taken a shine to my backseat. At any point of the day or night, you could find him there; cradling his shotgun like a child to a family pet, and working his way through Chinese takeout (downwards or upwards, he wasn't picky) or cheap pornography. Sometimes both.\n\nUnfortunately for me, he was also my guardian angel.\n\nAnd I don't mean that in the sense of \"he saved my life once, I owe him big-time\" or something like that. I mean that in the most literal, direct way. He is, to use his own words, an \"angel sent to keep an eye on you and protect you so you can reach your true purpose or some bullshit like that. Fuck if I know. Get me a beer.\"\n\nMost people don't know about the guardian angels that follow them and influence their daily lives, and those that do usually find themselves relocated to a nice new home with padded walls. Luckily for me, I didn't start seeing them until I was old enough to get that you don't talk about seeing shit like that. Unluckily for me, in addition to seeing everyone else's guardian angel, I was suddenly acquainted with the freeloading slob that had been assigned to me.\n\n\"See, look at them. Lookin' down on us through their... goddamn... bloody...\" The unexpected angel slurred his words as I turned up the radio to drown him out. \"Wings, I guess? Like, what... Oh, I have some pretty wings. I'm so special. Look at me.\"\n\n\"Sam, shut the fuck up.\"\n\nHe raised an eyebrow and a finger at me, and continued to rant in the most unholy, grating mock falsetto to ever fall on human ears.\n\n\"I could have had nice wings like that. Hell, I did have nice wings like that. But ya get into one mess and, boom. Gone. Throw out all your wing privileges, just like that.\" He snapped his fingers and threw up his hands. \"Ah, but what do you know. You don't know jack shit. I bet you want one of those... Those stuck-up fuck-up's, right? Is that what you want? A bureaucratic tool with their halo stuck so far up their ass, it's floating above their heads?\"\n\n\"Sam, I swear, I am going to crash this car just so I can kick your ass in your home terrain.\"\n\n\"Pfft.\" Sam, once again, blew me off with a patronising chuckle. \"Neither you nor any of those fun-haters could get within two feet of me and Phil here.\"\n\nHe lovingly patted his shotgun, and I swear I could hear him cooing and crooning at it.\n\n\"Phil?\" I raised an eyebrow. \"You called your gun Phil?\"\n\n\"Short for Neville, which is short for-\"\n\nI held up a hand, cutting him off midway.\n\n\"Forget it. I don't wanna hear about your gun's life story.\" \n\n\"Damn.\" He rubbed his stubbled chin. \"It's a good story too. God loved it so much he wept hard enough to flood Mesopotamia.\"\n\n\"Sure, it flooded your made up whatever-land and everyone died.\" I slammed a hand on the dashboard impatiently. \"Motherfucker!\"\n\n\"What? What is it?\" Sam leaned over the drivers seat, filling my immediate vicinity with the rich smog of bad whiskey.\n\n\"Dickhead just cut me off!\"\n\n\"Is that all?\"\n\n\"Is that all?! Samuel, you ass! If I'm late ONE more time, I'm more screwed than the cap on childproof meds!\"\n\n\"My name's not Samuel, dipshit.\" He stretched, yawned and slumped into the backseat again. \"And, yeah. We can't have you getting fired or anything. It's be a huge pain in the ass. Hell, it'd ruin my bosses, ya know, big plan and all.\"\n\n\"Well, that's what's gonna happen if this asshole doesn't get off the road!\"\n\nMy hands gripped the wheel like it was the fucker's goddamn neck. The one who cut me off or the one in the backseat. Either one. I don't care.\n\n\"Temper, temper.\" Sam grinned sarcastically and scratched his stubble. \"Don't lose your cool, Bud. I'll fix it.\"\n\n\"You better goddamn fix it because, let me tell you, I am so sick of traffic that I am THIS close to-\"\n\nAn earth shattering BANG tore through the backseat, past my window and straight through the King of the Highway's head, splattering his head across the interior of his leather upholstered corvette. An ear piercing screech burst from his horn as his body collapsed over the wheel sending the car spinning off the highway.\n\n\"JESUS!\"\n\n\"Nah, I only know his dad.\"\n\nSam calmly cackled in the back of the car, giving his gun a passionate kiss (did I see him use tongue!?) as he waved off my horror.\n\n\"Sam! What the fuck is wrong with you!? You said you were gonna fix this!\"\n\n\"I did!\" He snapped, defensively. \"You've got a clear road now!\"\n\n\"Really?\" I snap back. \"Because the only clear road I see is the one that leads to prison, you absolute idiot!\"\n\nThis is the point where Sam grins his big toothy, ear-to ear grin that makes him look like the victim of botched plastic surgery.\n\n\"Calm down, Buddy. I'm not a mortal, and this isn't some shitty mortal gun. It's magic, alright? None of this is gonna get traced to you. I mean, hell, the pigs can't even see the bullet, let alone the gun. Far as they know, it's spontaneous head combustion or something. That's a thing that happens sometime.\"\n\nAs he speaks, I feel my heartrate drop back to normal. Thinking over it calmly, he's right. Normal people can't see him, nor the gun, nor the bullet, nothing! There's nothing to find and nothing to link it back to me. I'm just a poor unlucky sap who was driving on the wrong highway at the wrong time.\n\nI let out a relieved chuckle and settle in for a cozy drive from here on out.\n\n\"Well, that puts my mind at ease.\" I let a smile bloom upon my face. \"Pretty brutal problem-solving from a guardian angel, though, don't you think?\n\nSam stops and raises an eyebrow. And then he begins to chuckle, and that chuckle quickly turns into a malicious cackle bursting from his mouth like so much fried rice and egg noodles beforehand.\n\n\"Oh, Buddy.\" He wipes a tear from his eyes. \"I'm not a guardian angel. Only good people get guardian angels, and I haven't been an official angel in ages!\" \n\nHe pauses, golden eyes scanning my confused expression.\n\n\"Look, maybe we started this whole thing off on a misunderstanding. Lemme just reintroduce myself.\n\nThe name's Samyaza, call me Sam, and I'm your Guardian Demon.\"", "\"And so, class, we get the answer 69!\" The teacher said brightly.\n\n\"HEHEHE!!!! 69!!!!!\" Jimmy shouted.\n\n\"THAT'S ENOUGH OF THAT\" Mrs. Berta, our rather large elderly math teacher, shouted. \"You will march right along to the principal's office IMMIDATELY or I'll slap an F right across your face!\"\n\n\"But...... ^^69?\" he whimpered.\n\n\"SIXTY NINE MY ASS!\" She shouted back, waving her ruler at his head. \"DO I HAVE TO DRAG YOU TO THE PRINICIPAL'S!?\"\n\n\"HEHEHE!!!! 69!!! ^69!!! ^^69!!\" Jimmy shouted as he bolted out of the class, his arms flailing as he ran aimlessly down to the principal's office.\n\nMr. Larban, our principal, did not take kindly to second graders. He forcefully sat him down in the plastic chair in his office.\n\n\"Jimmy, I'm going to have to call your parents, as this is the third time this week that you've been behaving poorly.\"\n\n\"But I heard you moaning inappropriate words in the janitor's closet just yesterday! Why don't I call your parents!?\"\n\n\"SHUT IT YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU WILL NEVER NEVER speak a word of that again. DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?\"\n\nSuddenly, a we both looked to the door as we heard a glass bottle shatter on the ground, to see a burly shaggy man in a flannel shirt and no pants holding a shotgun pointed straight at the principal's head.\n\nCHINK CHINK\n\n\"You gonna be shouting those same words you was just moaning, yesterday, when the tip of my gun is sticking out of your throat, if you don't step away from that boy!\"\n\n\"Sir, sir\" principal Larban mumbled softly \"Let's put the gun down and we can talk about this in a respectful manner like adults\" as he slowly backed towards the phone lying on his desk.\n\nBBAANNGG With a flash of light, the phone suddenly blew into a thousand tiny pieces, shocking Mr. Larban into a fetal position on the ground.\n\n\"GET UP, ya darn slump!\" The man said \"I'll show you how we deal with our feelings where I come from!\"\n\n\"Ok, ok, ok, ok, what do you want?\" Mr Larban feebly mouthed.\n\n\"You're gonna forget this ever happened, you'll stand up and sit at your desk as if nothing ever happened, and little Jimmy here's gonna walk back to class, and if I see as so much as a tardy on his record, well, I'd suggest you have your hand soap ready for when the other end of this shotgun it sticking out of your throat.\"\n\nAnd so, Mr. Larban complied with utter submission, doing exactly as the mysterious man said to do, without deviating from the instructions in the slightest.\n\n-\n\n(Two weeks later)\n\n\"Sup, Berts?\" Jimmy said with a smirk on his face as he walked into class with 5 min left in the period.\n\n\"Just get into your seat\" Mrs. Berta said. \"School's ending in five minutes\" \"and I have a meeting in the janitor's closet right after school.\" she added under her breath." ]	3
	[WP] You were born and lived out your entire life with a severely debilitating mental disability. You die and find out that there are no diseases or disabilities in death and begin to reflect on the life you lived for the first time.	[ "Eternity stretches out before me and I'm left with a thought:\n\nEternity isn't going to be nearly as interesting as life had been...\n\nSchizophrenia can be a debilitating disease to onlookers who don't have it. I guess you can say it is debilitating, but then I guess it's all about how you look at it.\n\nGrowing up I never had the need to make \"real\" friends. Charlie, Samantha, Bob, and Ricky were always with me wherever I went. There were no \"bed times\" or \"I've gotta be home for supper or my mom will kill me\" or anything like that. My mother could never even yell at me to send my friends home as I was the only one who could see or talk to them.\n\nI see now that I was just crazy and disabled. Funny how things are so much clearer after you're dead when it doesn't matter anyway.\n\nCharlie was always my favorite. He always found a way to get me into trouble. Making me laugh at the most inappropriate times. I remember once long ago when he'd stood at the front of class and mimicked everything the teacher was doing. I'd spent a few days in detention for that outburst. It was all worth it. A tear streams from my eye knowing he never really existed. Can you mourn someone who never really existed? I guess I can. \n\nPeople are staring at me as they stroll toward that bright light in the distance obviously wondering why I'm not heading toward eternity. Maybe they didn't have illusions for friends, illusions they'll never interact with again. Maybe they've got loved ones waiting for them in the beyond. Maybe...but I don't care. Let them gape, let them judge. I miss my friends.\n\nI'd go back to them if I could. They were better friends than my own family. I'm not excited about eternity and that never ending slog through the afterlife. I don't know what's waiting for me ahead but I do know one thing that sickens my immortal soul more than anything else.\n\nI'm more alone now than I'd ever been in my short life. ", "It's a funny thing, feeling nothing. I'm not talking about the nothing in the sense of the numbness that only comes from someone close to you passing on, nor am I referring to the sweet relief of nothing from after your own passing. I mean the nothing that comes with depression, the depths of oblivion when even your wife, your family can't love you, or at least, that's what you feel.\n\nBut let me do one better for you, in this absurd commentary. How about the days when you feel everything, and not just feel it, but feel it tenfold. The days when the happiness, the sadness, anxiety and excitement, joy and pleasure, disappointment and even libido, all hit you time and time and time again, with the force of truck. Now those days; those are the ones that make you feel like a crazy person, and if I were to be someone on the outside, I'd look and see a crazy person too. I mean, who couldn't? That rollercoaster is on display for the world to see, even the least adept person in the world can see something is wrong in the head of that person.\n\nWell, that person was me, and now I am an outsider looking in.\n\nHaving a lot of time comes naturally when you're not alive. Your countdown to death is over, there's nothing in the near or far future, no release any more. What's more, here, my problems... well I don't have them any more. Here, there's no such thing as being depressed, nor is there such a thing as hypomania. I was bipolar when I was alive, but here I'm... normal. Everybody is. I've looked and talked to many people who were crazy, whether diagnosed or not, and a lot more who were completely normal back when they were alive, and it's all gone here. Everyone is even. It's the Communist Soviet Union of personality.\n\nI look back on my life a lot. There were some days I made bad choices, said terrible things, thought horrific thoughts. It's strange; when I think back to those moments, it's like I'm there, a spectator to my own mind, my own thoughts providing a morbid narration of the decision making process for my older, wiser, normalised self.\n\nI'm back to the day I decided to give up on my first child. I was only 16, and she 15, we weren't old enough to look after ourselves independently, but I regret it all the same. It was a decision made out of fear and anxiety. I'm sat in the hospital, and she's in the room having the procedure. I run, not being able to deal with what's happening. Not physically run, but I walk away all the same, and I know it'll mentally torture her, but all I'm thinking of is self-preservation.\n\nI'm 17 now, both of my grandparents are gone. I should be in class, I should be setting up my future, that's what they want for me. My tutor has been bothering my parents for weeks about my lack of attendance. I ignore him, my mother, I don't go, and I disappear for two weeks; to my best friend, who needs me, her mother having just passed, too.\n\nNow, I'm 19, with a new job, a new city. I know I can't afford my apartment, and to make myself feel better... I get a credit card and overspend on it.\n\nNow, 21, and crippled with debt, living back with my parents. My whole income is spent on getting back to work every day, and paying off my debts, which just keep growing. I should have cut that credit card up.\n\n23, now, and I've moved to another country, running away from my debts rather than dealing with them.\n\nNow I'm 25 and I'm stood on the precipice. My life has caught up with me. I'm ready to jump...\n\nAnd now I'm here. Normal. Debt free. Worry free. Feeling the same as the majority of people did through their lives. There's no massing up of emotion, and no release to match it, either positive or negative. No music track brings a swelling of feeling, no images conjure the nostalgia I used to feel, no smile makes my heart jump in my chest the way it used to.\n\n\"I need something.\"\n\n\"Go on, my son. Make your request; here in my afterlife, we can do anything.\"\n\n\"I need to go back.\"", "\"Goodnight Sarah, I love you\" my mother was always the best to me no matter what i had done that day. I look up from the pool of water in a basin made out of cloud and notice that I have been left alone. The others that were with me on the ride here must not need as much time to remember everything as I do, they must have joined everyone else already.\n\nAs I look back down I can see my two brothers playing in the pool, I wish I could say I love them right there since this is one of my happiest memories but all I manage is their names and a smile. \"Do you want to come swim with us Sarah\" Ryan says, while Kevin is climbing out of the pool and approaching me. He helps me out of my chair and lends me his hand so I don't fall while I descend the steps into the water, Ryan comes over with a floaty to help me swim. \n\nThe image fades and i'm in my room blow drying my hair, its been dry for awhile but I like the feel of the warm air on my head. My side has been hurting a lot lately but I cant think of anything to say, I just keep rubbing it while my knuckles are getting raw from all the contact but it keeps the pain down a little. My Dad walks into the room telling me that I need to stop the blowdrier or my head will get too hot, he notices my rubbing and tear falls down his cheek. They have taken me to all the doctors but no one really knows whats wrong, my entire family sees how much pain i'm in but tries to keeps happy faces on for me. I just wish I could tell them how much I love all of them, but I can never manage more then a name or two.\n\n\"Sarah\" I look up the place i am in is no longer empty, its my grandma but looking much younger and a lot healthier then I last saw her. \"You have been looking at your pool of memories much longer then is usual I was starting to get worried, its not normally allowed but I thought I come see whats taking so long\" grandma always a worrier. \"I just am remembering how much I wanted to tell everyone but couldn't, even now its weird how I can express myself vocally to you\". \"Well you will get the chance to tell them everything when they get here, come on lets got get some tea and talk awhile like we never got to do before\"", "Have you ever looked at one of those paintings that looked like random splotches when you get too close to it? All disconnected and disorganized until you take a step or two back and see everything comes together. Sometimes it's beautiful and...well, sometimes it isn't. That was my life, those splotches. \n\nI know who and where I am now. It was never consistent before. I was six, and I was scared. I closed my eyes and when I opened them I was ten and angry. I was twenty two and I was in love. I closed my eyes and when I opened them I was here. All those years, all that misery and anguish, took place between blinks. Now I could see the space between them.\n\nI was six, and I was scared. A couple of neighborhood boys had started throwing rocks at me while I was walking home to school. They never took my arm braces, thankfully. Maybe they had enough compassion to at least give me the chance to run away. Maybe they just liked the idea of me running away from them. Kids can be cruel. I ran home, sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn't open the door so I sat on the porch and buried by face in my backpack. I don't know how long I was there but suddenly a pair of powerful arms were wrapped around me. My father brushed the hair out of my eyes and took a warm rag to wipe away the blood that had congealed where they had hit me. There in my father's arms, I was safe.\n\nI was ten and I was angry. Angry because he wasn't there any more and he was supposed to be. Angry because he never would be again. I had watched them lower him into the ground and then bury him and it wasn't supposed to happen. How would he protect me now? How would I ever feel safe again? In those few lucid moments in my life, I knew what I was. I knew that I was defenseless, and that people were cruel. I was angry, and I was alone.\n\nI was twenty two and I was in love. I had never really gotten over my father's death. He was all I had in the world. I was taken in by my aunt and her husband. They weren't sure how to handle someone like me, but they tried. Looking back with clearer eyes, I can see how much strain it was on them. Maybe some day I'll get to thank them. I never went to college, and stayed mostly on the porch of my aunt and uncle's house. One day, a girl came over to ask me why I was always day dreaming. Apparently she took my facial expressions as someone lost in thought instead of someone lost to thought. \n\nWhen she finally learned more about me and my condition, she started showing up more regularly. She would talk about her life, and her ambitions. I can remember every word of it now. She wanted to be a doctor for children. She had a beautiful singing voice. She was telling me something about her upcoming move to California to study medicine when it happened. I guess I just stopped breathing. I had closed my eyes. \n\nI smiled to myself, thinking that if she was lucky she wouldn't see me for a long time. A selfish part of me hoped that when she saw the real me, not the broken façade of a person I was, that she would love me too. I leaned back against my father's shoulder. He looked almost as young as me and so much happier than I can remember him in life. To his side was a girl younger than both of us. I had only known her for a day, but she had taken my hand and cupped my face just as my father did. \n\nThey would eventually move on, but for now I was content to stay and remember. There was a lot to learn about those years when my eyes were closed.", "I stooped down and drank deeply from the waters of eternity that were gently lapping at my feet. The afterlife was beautiful; rolling hills and wide open spaces accompanied with large, placid bodies of water spread out as far as the eye could see. The light hung in the air in great luminous masses, like balloons at a party, cast away from their owners hands to be freed up into the heavens. \n\nAs I knelt at the water, I gazed into the reflection of my former life. \n\n“David, your teachers said you were playing by yourself at school today, is everything alright?” My mother asked me warily as she walked into my room. \n\n“Go. Away!” I yelled frantically, backing into a corner. \n\n“David, it’s alright. You can talk to me.” My mother said with a smile. \n\nI watched this scenario play out many, many times. As I watched myself grow older, the warmth and supportiveness of my mother drained away. \n\n“David! I told you to shower! You’re going to be late for work! I’m tired of always having to come in here and motivate you to get out of bed! You’re doing nothing with your life and I’m wasting my money on these prescriptions that you don’t even take and…” \n\nMy mother’s voice faded away as I brushed away the memory with my hand, sending ripples across the water. How had she been so ignorant of my condition? How had she glossed over how I had really been feeling, and how I had been acting? Wasn’t it all too obvious? I watched one more memory surface, the most painful one yet to witness. \n\n“Ma’am, I need you to wait in the living room. We’re going to get the coroner here so we can transport his body to the morgue. Ma’am?” The officer pleaded with my mother, his words falling on deaf ears. \n\n“It’s his fault,” She said coldly, “I tried to give him everything he ever wanted, and now he kills himself? I’m glad he’s gone.” She left the room without shedding a tear. \n\nI sat at the edge of the pool and wept for my mother’s ineptitude, for her misunderstanding. As I looked across the plains of the afterlife, I saw many, many more people, just like me; several others were bent on one knee, or simply prostrated before the memories of their former lives, wondering, questioning. All had been revealed here in the life after death, and yet none of it was fulfilling.\n" ]	5
	[WP] After years of searching, you manage to find your long lost brother who went missing 20 years ago. The only problem is that he now has a gun pointed directly at you.	[ "(I had ton of fun and got carried away! 2 parts! Here's part 1.) \n&nbsp; \n\nDevin and I had never ever really gotten along. When our parents brought me home from the hospital as newborn, he decided right then and there that I was competition and a threat. He tried to push me down some stairs when I was learning to walk. He sabotaged the brakes on my first bike when I was learning to ride. It only devolved from there. Needless to say, I didn't keep in touch after I graduated high school and left home. \n&nbsp; \n\nI was kind of messed up after years of dealing with Devin and fell into a bad crowd. I had bad friends who did bad things. I only drank a bit and had the occasional joint. My friends were into harder stuff. I was stupid and did bad things to help my \"friends\" at the time. Transporting illegal drugs across state lines, helping them hot wire cars, ran money for the dealers, those sort of things. It was after getting busted for grand theft auto that I began to think that maybe I needed to rethink my life, and more importantly, who I called \"friends.\" \n&nbsp; \n\nI wound up spending 5 years in prison for my stupidity. It was not easy, but I managed to keep my nose clean while in the clink. I knew one thing after the first night there: I never ever wanted to wind up there again. My dad and brother pretty much disowned me after I was sentenced. I didn't hear a peep from them the whole time I was there. I guess it's embarrassing to have one son be a fuck-up with a criminal record while the other one became a cop. \n&nbsp; \n\nThat's right, my psycho brother became a cop. I guess he completed the academy while I was cooling my heels as a guest of the state's correctional facilities. I learned this because Mom took pity on me and wrote me every week. I could tell she was proud of him in her letters. I bit my tongue, because to be frank, it was freaking lonely in prison and I didn't want her to stop writing to me. But I worried. People like Devin love being in positions in power. If Devin was still anything like he was when we were growing up, people were going to be hurt sooner or later. \n&nbsp; \n\nAnyway, after I got out of prison, things were anything but easy. Mom and Dad were beside themselves with worry. I later learned that Devin never came back from an undercover assignment. Considering it was Devin, I gave exactly zero shits and was far too busy trying to find a legitimate job and a place to live that wasn't a halfway house. Hard as shit when you got a record. Eventually, I landed a gig with a trucking company and spent a few years driving back and forth across the country. \n&nbsp; \n\nDad and I never really mended fences. The warmest our relationship ever got after getting out of prison was exchanging Christmas cards. He had a stroke and died 5 years after Devin went missing. I may have been a fuck-up, but I could tell Mom wasn't doing well and quit my job as a long haul trucker. After a bit of stressing out, I opened my own business and began taking care of Mom. \n&nbsp; \n\nIt was after moving Mom into my house and going through Dad's stuff that I began to piece together the clues Dad had been collecting about Devin's disappearance. Devin had been working an undercover assignment regarding a suspected mafia family's not-so-legitimate business. No body was ever found. Either they'd disposed of it quite well or there was some hope that my brother was still alive. Between my less than warm feelings towards my brother and my personal and business lives getting very busy, the clues sat there for years, collecting dust. \n&nbsp; \n\n15 years after Devin vanished, I was overcome with guilt. Mom got sick with leukemia and lost her fight with the disease. She never got to see him again. It was at my wife's suggestion after Mom's funeral that I began searching for my brother in earnest. \n&nbsp; \n\nFor 4 years, I turned up a whole lot of nothing. I hired several PIs and none of them brought me any new information. That fifth year, things got interesting. Remember that mafia family I mentioned earlier? Yeah, things got real interesting for them. The big boss and two of his lieutenants were found in a burnt out car outside the city. They'd been barbecued, basically. The \"bereaved widow\" even offered a reward for information leading to the arrest of whoever had killed her husband and cousins. A mob wife offering a reward in this situation? Interesting. I chose to also take that route, posting a (somewhat fake) tearful plea for any information regarding my brother. \n&nbsp; \n\nThe first few replies to my TV and poster ads were sick people trying to get their jollies off on pretending to have information, but instead did nothing but waste my time. Eventually, Devin's old partner got in contact with me. What he had for me was anything but good news. I was told that Devin got too attached to the lifestyle while undercover. If he wasn't dead, there was a very real chance he'd turned coat and joined up with \"the family\" for real. \n&nbsp; \n\n3 months after my ad hit the airwaves that I got a call in the dead of night. I sleepily answered but there was silence on the other end of the line. My wife and I were unsettled, but managed to get back to sleep after an hour or so. This would happen a couple more times that week, always after midnight. The fourth call, whoever it was on the other side finally spoke up. The man didn't identify himself, but left instructions to meet up somewhere the following week. He said he could tell me about Devin. \n&nbsp; \n\nI was really nervous and hated that I had to go alone, but the man insisted on it or he wouldn't meet up. I was halfway through my second cigarette in 10 years when he finally showed up near the rundown warehouse he'd agreed to meet at. Something made the pit of my stomach feel like there was a ball of ice in it when I got a good look at him. Those eyes, they didn't look like those of a normal person. Those eyes seemed to hold contempt for anything they gazed upon. At that moment, that thing was me. He grunted and jerked his head to the side, holding the door open. I stubbed out my cigarette and hurried in. \n&nbsp; \n\nThe warehouse was in an obvious state of neglect. Broken windows, cobwebs all over the place and a thick layer of dust. A few yards from the door, a couple of folding chairs were set up by a single overhead light. I sat in one of the chairs, wondering if maybe this had been bad idea and if my wife would ever forgive me for making her a widow if things went south. The stranger wiped dust clear from his chair before sitting. The first few seconds of awkward silence were extremely uncomfortable. I offered him a picture of Devin from his senior year of high school. The man took it and scowled at me, and then the photo, for a while. He handed it back with a grunt. \n&nbsp;\n\n\"Yeah, I know that guy. I work for him.\" he rumbled. \n&nbsp; \n\nI blinked several times. \"He's alive? He's okay?\" I stammered. \n&nbsp; \n\nHe nodded. \n", "I should have realized it was all over when the red and blue lights flashed behind me. \n\nReaching for gun I swore as I remembered that I left it in my apartment. The only thing I had on me was cocaine. Bonus points for incriminating evidence, I guess.\n\n“Hands where I can see them,” an authoritative voice rang out as I complied. “Now slowly turn around.”\n\nA beam of light hit me straight in the face. My eyes squinted against it as I heard a loud gasp.\n\n“Mark?” The voice sounded aghast.\n\nThe bottom dropped out of my stomach as I heard him say my name. There was only person I knew that would call me like that. “Ryan?” I mumbled, slack-jawed.\n\nWe stood watching each other for what seemed to be an eternity until I broke the silence.\n\n“Could you lower your light please,” I said, moving to embrace him.\n\n“Don’t move,” he bellowed. My eyes still adjusting from the light, I saw him pointing at me with his gun, though he did lower his flashlight.\n\n“For the love of all that is Holy,” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you recognize your brother?” \n\n“I have no trouble in knowing that’s you, Mark. The question is can I even trust you?”\n\nI froze as I heard the sound of jingling metal. All of a sudden my mouth felt dry.\n\n“You aren’t going to cuff me are you?”\n\n“Afraid so,” He said in a disgusted tone. “You’re wanted. Please, don’t resist arrest, brother.”\n\nAnger and fear rushed through me as I concluded that while my brother perhaps wanted me to be safe, he didn’t know how the Mafia operated.\n\n“If you’re going to slap those handcuffs on me and stuff me in the back of your car, you might as well put a bullet in my head right now.” I said gulping furiously. “The Don will find a way to kill me in jail, to make sure I don’t talk; if you take me to court, you’ll just be making it easy for them.”\n\nHe paused. Owls hooted eerily as a moment of tense silence passed.\n\n“I’m so sorry, Mark,” Ryan said bitterly. “I should have realized sooner where you went, and I should have tracked you down sooner. Let me guess, is it Vinnie? Wasn’t he the ‘ringleader’ of your little club in middle school? Like father, like son, it seems fitting he would succeed his father’s empire.”\n\n“Drop it, Ryan.” I shouted hoarsely. “I ain’t some cold-blooded enforcer; I love you and my parents as much as you do.”\n\n“You weren’t at Dad’s funeral,” He yelled. “How can you say you love them? Mother was crying her eyes out. She got sick and yet you still didn’t show up. Both of them died knowing their son was missing and would never come back. How can you say you love them?”\n\n“If I had known, I would have come.” My hands clenched into fists. “But the Don never allowed us to leave the premises except for certain jobs.”\n\n“Like father, like son.” Scorn dripped from his voice. “Looks like you’re more connected to the Mafia family than ours, why don’t you go kiss the Don’s feet while you’re at it.”\n\n“Look, Ryan.” I pleaded. “I am sorry. I am terribly sorry for putting you, Dad and Mom through this. But please forgive m –”\n\n“Go.”\n\n“What?”\n\n“Go,” he spat. “Isn’t that what you want?”\n\n“Go,” Ryan said again as he walked back to his car. “Just leave and never come back. I don’t care whether you’re trying bring me blood money or paying a visit to my parents’ graves. Don’t let me see your face ever again.”\n\n“Ryan…” I spluttered. \n\nHe turned and walked silently to his vehicle. The car rumbled softly as he started the ignition. I looked desperately at back window, hoping he would turn back, but his eyes were focused on the road as he drove away.\n\nI watched the tail lights of his patrol car disappear over a small hill. Taking away the light that kept away the creatures of the night. Taking away the last bit of hope I had for a life where my family would actually care for me.\n\t\n" ]	2
	[WP] You have the ability to read minds, but for every minute spent reading someone's mind, you lose 1 year of life expectancy.	[ "The desk had a pitiful handful of personal artifacts, most were left over from the previous polygraph to work Knowledge Processing. For me, after four months there was little to show: a pocket watch, a card, and a frame of me and my friend Dale Cullen, graduating the academy; just before I became a polygraph. I was so young then. But the time adds up: 29 minutes, 46 seconds. \n\nOnly 14 more seconds to retirement. The department didn't want to make a big deal of it, so they left the card (signed by barely half the department) and a watch. I wound the watch and set the time: 2:25.\n\nDale was standing by my desk and I could hear her hesitate before saying, \"Hey Tinker, got a minute? I have a suspect in Interrogation and want a quick peak under the hood, he's a little...odd. I talked to the sergeant, and he signed off on 6 seconds of your KnowHow.\"\n\nI followed Dale to interrogation and in front of the steel door she briefed me. \"Normally, I wouldn't say this requires a polygraph, but something doesn't make sense. This idiot decides to break into a pawnbroker two blocks away from City Center, right next to Knowledge Processing. And for what? To steal a Hoover. \n\n\"It doesn't make sense, why would you steal a vacuum cleaner right next to a police station and a half-dozen psychics?\" she shrugged.\n\nI asked, \"So, 6 seconds, what's the question?\"\n\nShe said, \"He had access to the cash register, diamonds, watches, a signed Mickey Mantle... why did he knock out the owner and just take the Hoover?\"\n\nI took a deep breath, and silently entered the room. It was better to not talk and appear as mysterious as possible. The mere presence of a polygraph often got people talking and could save the department seconds. A small man, with the face of a chihuahua, sat across from me shivering, looking at the timer and looking at Dale. \"I ain't got anything, I didn't steal anything,\" he said. \n\n\"Just a couple seconds, fella, we'll be able to wrap this up today,\" Dale said, \"we just want to know: why take the Hoover\"\n\nI reached over to the timer, hit the button to start it, closed my eyes, and shifted from my mind into his. One second, the Hoover. Two seconds, the Hoover in his hand. Three seconds, the Hoover smashed across the face of the shop owner. Four seconds, the Hoover in his hands when he steps into the store. Five seconds, and the chihuahua pushes back. The buzzer rings six seconds. I've never felt a suspect push back. Seven seconds, I move toward the Hoover, it's not a Hoover, but the little man pushes back hard. 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14: 3:00.\n\nI snapped back and looked at Dale, and back at the chihuahua. \"What happens at 3:00?\" I screamed, \"What happens at 3:00?!\" A smile crept across his face. \n\nI shifted my mind back into his. I had 25 minutes and the rest of my life to learn how to dismantle a nuclear bomb. \n\n" ]	1
	[WP] "You seem like a good man. I pray we do not meet again."	[ "\"Why let me live?\" I pulled myself up against the wall of the warehouse to a sort of sitting posture. The hole in my left calf oozed blood and shot pain each time I shifted, but I wanted to at least make myself as upright as possible. \"Got some bullshit to spout off at me before you kill me?\"\n\n\"The next time,\" he said, flexing his ring and little finger slightly against the grip of the pistol he held pointed squarely at me, \"I may not be as fortunate as I was this time.\" Even while he spoke and my eyes met his my focus was on the pistol. It had wavered not so much as a millimeter when his fingers had flexed. His eyes hadn't moved either; they tracked mine as though he could read the thoughts behind them.\n\nBy rights, he had won and I should be dead. I wanted to know why. Apparently he didn't want to answer so that was that. I wasn't really in a strong bargaining position. \n\nHe had been more fluid in his tactics whereas I had been flat footed in my decisions. The moments he had stolen during the gunfight led to where I was now; he stood over me with at least 3 rounds remaining in his pistol whereas I only had a rifle out of reach that needed to be reloaded. He had danced through the space between us until my range was a weakness and his speed was debilitating.\n\n\"You seem like a good man. I pray we do not meet again,\" he said. \"At least, not on opposing sides.\"\n\nI resolved to not reply even though the adrenaline coursing through my veins really wanted to drive my mouth to speech. No doubt if I had opened some sarcastic comment would have found its way out and that wouldn't have helped my situation any. \n\nHe continued, apparently satisfied that he had given me enough time to retort if I had chosen to do so, \"Let us hope that your next employer is also mine.\" Without turning, he stepped cleanly back towards and then through the door we had last come through. Only then did he lower his weapon. He offered a curt bow and sidestepped out of my sight. \n\n\"Fucking professional!\" I yelled after him. Insults were never my strong suit. " ]	1
	[WP] You discover a book that you don't remember buying lying under your bed. You open it and start reading and discover it's a journal...written by your dog.	[ "I am at the point in my life where everything seems to be going so slow, yet going so fast. I am already 42 years old, my semi-serious girlfriend is away traveling studying some migratory sea lard, and i am home alone tending to the house. Few things seem to keep me entertained these days, but i currently have the sudden interest in, wait for it, cleaning. I am relatively organized but i tend to shove miscellaneous things in drawers and shelves. Today i am cleaning underneath the bed. \n\n\"Jesus, there is a ton a shit under here\" i say to myself while listening to today's happy go lucky pop artist, name not needed. I find a few old gems crammed between boxes and the odd slipper, until something catches my eye. A small book that i don't remember owning, it could be one of my girlfriends \"\"pillow books\"... \n\nI take the book into the kitchen and have myself a sad cup of noodles, and begin an unexpected journey. \n\n\"Another day in the life of buster\" it reads. My dog's name is buster, but that cannot be the case.\n\n\"Today my master attempted to quell the wretched beast under the house, the one that constantly howls whenever someone prepares the bath. I watched in horror as it spit at him, for which he then angrily cursed at it. Luckily it was a much cooler today with a breeze gently ruffling my fur, so watching my master battle this foreign creature was bearable. His mistress seemed to enjoy the spectacle as well, however showed great disrespect when she laughed and rolled around on the grass, like a young pup would do. My master, being a benevolent person, chuckled at her heckling. After many hours the beast was tamed, and we all enjoyed a relaxing night. It would have been a grand night, if not for the pork roast my master dropped on the ground, only to make me the martyr when his mistress entered in disbelief. She at first was shocked and then gave me a good pat on the head, and said \"your just hungry huh?\" To which i then understood my master brilliant logic. She would normally be upset with my master's blunders, but cannot be mad at my aesthetically pleasing face.\"\n\nI stared in disbelief, and turned to my dog. Who has just entered the room, and lied down only to look up at me, wanting to be petted. I scan through the book and see many more pages full of memories.... I think my dog is smarter than me..." ]	1
	[WP] You have been evicted from your home, but rather than live on the street you go to Ikea. At night you hide in the bathroom until the janitor leaves, then you exit the bathroom.	[ "11:00 P.M.: the large team of janitors have finally cleaning up the six floors of the IKEA store, two hours after closing time. The bathrooms are the first areas to cleaned, and the janitors usually don’t enter an area they cleaned already, so it’s safe to hide out there immediately after until they leave. I waited thirty minutes after the main lights went out, then stepped out into my personal furniture playground.\n\nAfter a trek to the Swedish kitchen, I microwaved a couple of VÅFFLOR waffles, warmed up the soft-serve machine and cracked opened a jar of Lingonberry preserves for a late night à La Mode. Kicking my feet up on a cushy TIMSFORS swivel reclining chair and turned on the 56” plasma display television.\n\nGetting kicked out of my apartment was actually a blessing in disguise, my job at IKEA would provide me with food and shelter rent free, and I don’t even have to commute. I had full reign of the kitchen and my pick of the comfiest beds and furniture known to man. Now that I didn’t have to pay for food or living expenses, I found myself with an abundance of cash which I can use for more useful purposes, like Netflix.\n\nHalfway through watching “Road House” I heard a sound. My heart jumped and muted the sound. I listened closely, “Hello? Is anyone there?” a faint voice called out. They sounded scared, not like they were looking for intruders. I hesitantly made my way to the source, on a lower level. I finally reached the warehouse floor, and saw a man wandering around. He looked like an average customer, only with very unkempt hair and wearing tattered, dirty clothes.\n\n“Who are you?” I yelled with some authority, thinking I might pass myself off as a security guard. The man whipped around with saucer-wide eyes.\n\n“Oh thank God!” he jogged over to me and gripped my shoulders, “I’ve been trapped in this Hell hole for two days now! I have no idea how to navigate my way out of here, but now I’m saved!” He began to hysterically giggle and pulled me into a tight uncomfortable hug.\n\nA second later he gasped, “Trevor! He’s still out there!” and broke away from the hug.\n\n“Wait, who is Trevor?”\n\n“My boyfriend!” He spat an inch away from my face. His voice began to elevate. “We came together to pick out furniture for our first place together. First we disagreed on what kind of lighting we wanted, then we had a fight about what style of dinnerware set, and then the type of toilet paper holder, and then –“\n\nI held my hand up to his face, “Hey! Calm down. It’s IKEA, all couples fight here. Now where did you see him last?”\n\n“We got separated in the textile section” I took him up to the third floor and found another shabby looking man with a long shaggy beard. Upon seeing us, Trevor raced to his boyfriend, “Martin!” and the two embraced, all the while uncontrollably crying and apologizing.\n\nTrevor looked at me, “Thank you so much! I don’t know how we would have survived without you!”\nI smiled at the two of them, “That’s the problem, you’ve been trying to survive in IKEA, when you should’ve been living”\n\nA half hour later the three of us had a tray of hot cinnamon buns, Trevor and Martin snuggled on a NORSBORG sofa and me in my recliner, all of us rooting for Patrick Swayze." ]	1
Taken from a comment by /u/Reservoir_cat ([permalink]( https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/4hu6w2/lawyers_of_reddit_what_is_the_most_outrageous/d2smww5)) in response to [a story about exactly this]( https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/4hu6w2/lawyers_of_reddit_what_is_the_most_outrageous/d2shvfy) by /u/SheriffCreepy	[WP] A lawyer fights the supernatural with the power of the law	[ "I looked at my secretary wide-eyed, my coffee slowly slipping out of my hands. \"Let me get this straight. We're being paid a ludicrous amount to take a ghost to court?\" He nodded, shuffling papers like it was no big deal. \"Great, just great,\" I muttered to myself. \n\nShuffle forward a few months and I stood at the front of the courtroom within the supreme court. It was a landmark case, with a majority of the benches being taken up by reporters. My team consisted of five smartly dressed men and women, and of course my client, the irrational conspiracy theorist that we somehow got into a suit. The defense comprised of Reggie - the court's janitor. \n\nI stepped forward, faced the crowd and cleared my throat. \"Ladies and Gentlemen. We are here today to prove to the court, and indeed, the world was a whole, that my client was assaulted by this invisible entity.\" I pointed towards the front pew - we had left it fully empty, not knowing the size of said entity. \"On the fifth of July this year, my client Arnold was pushed over after leaving the fine establishment of Hooters sometime around 2AM. What followed is simply outrageous. Arnold was repeatedly pushed to the ground, not given a chance to defend himself or even run away. He was then, after the violent altercation, was left in the gutter. People of Washington, we need to set an example. We need to send a message to these ghosts that they can not prey on the defenceless. The weak. I rest my case.\"\n\nI sat back down, smiling as the judge listened to the thunderous applause that erupted in the room. After a few bouts of \"Order\", calm came back to the courthouse as she addressed my opponent. \"And how does the defense plead?\" \n\nReggie stood up. Silence rippled throughout the jury. The reporters leaned in. The judge remained emotionless. My nose itched. \"Guilty.\"\n\nReggie was fired that day. Apparently he had meant to say 'not-guilty' but messed up his words. But the damage was done. Somehow ghosts came under the property of the US government, - something to do with Area 51 - and as such, they were forced to pay.\n\n_\n\n\"So, what are you here for miss?\" I asked the young lady sitting before me. She pointed with a shaking finger behind me. \"Ghost.\" I sighed and laughed, but not before I caught a flash of something in my empty photo frame that lay upon my desk. Perhaps today would be interesting after all. \n\n---\n\nTook a different take on it. Hope it's still up to scratch. " ]	1
	[WP] Breaking all forms of story structure, the hero decides to simply attack the villain halfway through their monologue.	[ "The small, supposed to be luxurious, analog clock below the dashboard displays a small hand pointing at the III and its longer counterpart pointing slightly to the left of the I. The slightly overweight teenage boy takes two seconds to process the information as he is so used to digital displays of time. In one quick succession, he pulls the aux cord from his phone, turns the car off, checks his pocket for headphones (which are there), gets out and locks the door. A slight euphoria and boost of energy powers him. He is still in the honey moon phase of his relationship with coffee.\n\nHe walks with purpose to the sandwich shop door, making sure his orange collared shirt is tucked in and his hat which reads \"Panera Bread\" is as fitted as it can be on his large head. Upon opening the door, he pans the room to see who he would be working with. Looking down the tile path, he sees Tina working the register. She is tall and skinny to the point of looking sick, but always seems happy and is, in a less ordinary way, attractive. To her right is Barb, the psuedo neurotic manager. She is always angry, whether it be a sarcastic hyperbolic meaningless anger, or the legitimate type, which leads her to chain smoke cigarettes and take it out on whichever employee she chooses. Jared ,a short overweight, and very personable black man is on the line, preparing the food he sees on the monitor, which is constantly judging his speed. \n\nJared looks up as the bell rings upon a person's entering. In a joking manner, Jared shouts, \"Look who decided to show up!\"\n\"I'm a minute late!\"\nIn a falsely apathetic voice, Barb says, \"three minutes.\"\nJarred: \"I'm just playin with you John.\"\n\nJohn walks down the tile path to the first checkout register and clocks in on the monitor. He looks at Tina who smiles at him while she finishes up a customer. Barb tells him to go bus the tables outside as no one had done it since noon. \n\nHe heads out and sees a skinny, short man looking directly at him. The man has on a confederate shirt with the sleeves cut off and sports short bleach blonde hair and a short beard. He has the face of someone who has smoked for thirty years. Being non confrontational, John begins to bus the tables. As he grabs a dirty plate the man demands a drink.\n\"Sir you can go inside and purchase one.\"\n\"Get me a damn Coke my mouth is dry as fuck.\"\n\"I will see what I can do\"\n\nHe tells Barb, who promptly walks out there and states, \"I can get that for you. It will be 1.50.\"\n\"I don't got any money I just need a fuckin coke.\"\nThe man storms inside and picks a large cup off the stack near the registers. John, trying to do anything but deal with the man, is cleaning in front of the drink machine.\n\"Move boy.\" John moves\n\"Sir, you can not do that.\" \nThe old man grunts. \n\"Sir, I will call--\" Whats that in his hand. Knife. John looks up and finds the mans eyes staring at him. John grabs the metal napkin dispenser and with confidence he did not know he had, smashes the man over the head.\n\nI am extremely new to this and this story spiraled out of my grips kind of fast haha. I think I will just leave it at that for now. :)\n\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] One day almost everyone gets powers. At lunch your co-workers brag about their new found abilities and realize that you never said anything about yours. When asked, you lie that you don't have any when in reality it is quite terrifying. And you love it.	[ "Well i had to lie. who wouldn't when gifted with such a strong power. Who wouldn't lie when gifted with the power to be immortal. The same day everybody got their powers i also got mine, I got the power to be immortal. the exact same day i was attempting suicide. but needless to say, i failed. Since then i have been recording myself jumping out from rooftops and other crazy stunts and uploaded it afterwards. every time i'm in disguise, and every time i say the same sentence.\n\n\"DO IT FOR THE VINE!\"", "I watched as Kevin made the small flame dance across the tabletop to the delight of everyone who watched. \n\n\"That's awesome Kev.\" I said as he snuffed out the small flame. The small crowd that had gathered around to see Kevin show off his newfound power groaned with disappointment and begun discussing their own experiences. \n\nEver since the human race had been changed in the event, everybody developed a power by the time they were twenty-one. Some were major, some were minor, and some were useless. But everyone was regulated. Those who refused went rogue, and had to deal with the big guys.\n\n\"What did the examiners say?\" Said Stacey, sitting down at the table. As always, she had several flowers interwoven into her hair. Each one was pointed toward the window. Stacey could control plants, make them grow, make them move, some people said she was actually part plant. \n\n\"They think my powers will grow, they said to come back in a few years, as it is I can't make a flame much bigger than my hand for now!\" Kevin said, igniting a small fire ball in his hand again. \n\nWithout warning a torrent of water bounced across the table, literally bounced, before splashing over Kevin's hand and extinguishing his flame, not to mention soaking the entire table. \n\n\"Hey!\" Kevin said, looking towards the culprit. \n\nLaughing, Brad strode towards the group and sat down with a flop, water twirling around his wrist in a constant stream. He always kept a little bit of water on his body, mostly for pranks. \n\n\"Pft. So you can light candles now, big deal. You'll probably never advance beyond that!\" \n\n\"Jerk.\" Said Kevin. But he was smiling. I smiled too. It was unlikely that any of my friends would be placed into duty for the Establishment, but that was fine, that way they wouldn't be hurt. Their powers were minor, so they were allowed to roam free. \n\nStacey turned to me suddenly, ignoring the small wrestling match that had broken out between Kevin and Brad. \n\n\"You must be excited huh Drew?\" \n\n\"What do you mean?\" I said. \n\n\"Well you turn 21 next month right? You should be getting your power any day now.\" \n\n\"Hey that's right!\" Said Kevin, who had Brad in a headlock. \"Any idea what it might be?\" \n\n\"Oh, I guess I hadn't really thought about it.\" I said, smiling. \n\n\"What!?\" said Brad, pushing Kevin away. \"How can you not think about it?\" \n\n\"I dunno, I've been busy lately?\" \n\nAll three of my friends looked at me like I was insane. I simply smiled. After all how could they know that I already had my powers. That my examination was falsified every year, because technically, I didn't exist. I went rogue. My power manifested itself at 16. And when the inspectors came around for my first test at 17, I killed them. \n\nBecause you see my power is different, my power comes from a darker god than theirs. With a simple touch, I can take. Take anything, take everything. Your mind, your looks, your memories, your voice, your sight, the air from your lungs, the cells in your brain, the blood from your veins, your power. I can remove them, I can keep them. So far I've remade my face three times, and I have taken the powers of those who have come to find out mine. And disposed of any who came close. I have been 20 for over 5 years, each year with a new face, new blood, new body, new cells, new powers. So far I'm bulletproof, I can teleport, and following a truly spectacular fight, I can control the weather. I don't age, but maybe this year I will. Maybe this year I stop hiding.\n\nBut first I think I'll see how strong Kevin's power gets. Fire sounds fun. " ]	2
	[WP] Kevin joins the army, and is placed in the front lines. Miraculously he survives every suicide mission the army gives him.	[ "“He knows too much,” The Venerated General James Worthington said to his small cabinet in the military base in Seoul South Korea.\n“I’m sorry general,” responded commander Morris, “We didn’t expect him to make it out of the Chinese embassy. We thought he wouldn’t make it back with any information about the killings.”\n“Well he did!” The General slammed his hands down in disgust. “And whose idea was it to send him to swim across the Indian ocean and land in the shores of Somalia?”\nAll the eyes at the table turned towards Lieutenant Harris. Harris was seated on a chair in the corner of the room at the desk “I’m sorry general. Who could’ve foreseen that he would form an alliance with the Pirates and take down Syria’s budding Nuclear arsenal.”\n“Well the president brought me in to fix your mistakes. No one can know about the massacre as you all well know. And I think I have an Idea that can end our little problem.”\n\n“What are you thinking general,” Morris asked.\n“I’m sending Kevin across the 39th parallel to take down Kim Jung Un.”\n…..\nKevin had been in the army for three months. Yet he had no friends in the Army. They had all gone MIA in the various missions Kevin had been sent on. Now Kevin was with a reserve in South Korea. They were equipped to deal with any major emergencies in Southeast Asia. Luckily that left Kevin with plenty of free time when nothing was happening. He loved to sneak into the kitchen and steal some pudding. He’d been caught before but the chefs didn’t mind. It was hard to speak to the other members of his unit. Although they all were older (Kevin was only 19) and had better training (Kevin had barely passed his training) Kevin had more experiences than even his Commander Morris. \nHe had been the only soldier out of a strike force of a dozen sent to burn the files at a Chinese embassy. They found out during the mission that there was no evac planned. They had been sent in to die. How Kevin had survived was a miracle and what he’d escaped with was even more important. Somalia had only confused him more on the information he had, and climbing inside of the nuclear missile in order to defuse it in the air had left him scarred for weeks.\nIt was late at night now and he was in the kitchen eating pudding. It was chocolate today. It was always chocolate. He couldn’t sleep well so he spent his nights here. It was quiet the only people he ever saw were the chefs.\n\tHe heard the door open. “John?” He asked thinking it was the head chef. Out of the corner of the room emerged Commander Morris. He was balding on the top of his head and seemed to always have a scowl on his face.\n“No but he said I could find you here.” Morris grabbed Kevin’s hand and helped him to his feet. \n“Sorry about the pudding. Sir” Kevin wiped his hands on his white tank top while Morris scowled at his hands.\n“Private you’ve been called on to meet with the general.” He said disapprovingly. ‘Not Again’ Kevin thought to himself. The last few times he’d had these meetings had ended with him flying away to some place of massive danger.\n“Private you’d better start moving. The general does not like to be kept waiting.” Morris said.\n“Oh yeah, sorry… Sir,” Kevin quickly added.\n…..\n“Soldier, we have a mission in which you are uniquely qualified.” The General announced to Kevin. There was three other men in the room. Morris, a man in a doctor’s garment, and Kevin. “I’m sorry for my manners. You may sit soldier.”\nKevin sat on the chair. It was adjacent to a desk. The cushion was wet and as he looked down it looked like someone spilt ketchup. “Uhh General sir, I think someone spilt something,”\n“That was Harris,” The general stated. \n“Oh okay sir, so what is this mission.” Kevin was getting a weird feeling from the ketchup because it lacked the smell of ketchup.\n“You will cross the 39th parallel and assassinate Kim Jung Un.” The generals mission sounded absurd.\n“That’s a suicide mission!” Kevin ranted.\n“Remember who your talking too! And you’ve succeeded against better odds,” ‘But luck won’t be with you this time’ the general thought.\n“How many men are coming with me general?” Kevin asked noticing the loss of a scowl on Morris’s face.\n“You’re going alone.” The general began to smile, “Oh and we can’t cause any ruckus to alert the authorities,”\n“What do you mean sir?” Kevin asked\n“You will only be armed with this,” The general removed a small knife, barely sharper than a butter knife.\n“That’s impossible.”\n“Address me as sir, and you will leave now while its dark.”\n", "\"It was a full strength tank division.\"\n\n\n\"With auxiliary mechanized infantry flanking them on the ridges.\" He added.\n\n\n\"Backed by aircraft, entrenched position across Lowbridge Valley, a snipers' delight, with no cover.\"\n\n\n\"Full moon too.\"\n\n\n\"Armed with a combat knife, two standard K-rations and a six shot revolver.\"\n\n\n\"With no ammunition.\"\n\n\n\"All this, and he managed to disable their communications center, poison their food supplies, find the intelligence hard drive and come back alive.\"\n\n\n\"Without any injuries.\"\n\n\n\"Johnson. Get this guy a medal.\"\n\n\n---\n\n\n\"For the record, you will now retell the victory of Lowbridge Valley.\"\n\n\n\"Yes sir. General Neal asked me to take a look at the enemies line for some patrol practice and it got quite out of hand. He also gave me a bit of extra food if I happened to get peckish in the night. Unfortunately, I had the runs from a prank, laxatives in my coffee before the midnight patrol. So, halfway through my intended route, I found a barracks to use their bathroom. During my time at the bathroom, I think a pipe must have broke when I clogged the toilet. That took some time and the technician accidentally cut the electrical cord when he cut off the water supply pipe to replace it.\"\n\n\n\"Then you proceeded to poison their supplies.\"\n\n\n\"I didn't mean to in all honesty. Because they didn't have any running water, they joined me at the cafeteria. They were still holding my rations, but since the cook wasn't on duty, I offered to make them some eggs. I must have forgotten to wash my hands, and I might have used a tad too much of the crackers. I also made them soup, which I added my K-rations. Soon after, most of them weren't feeling too well either, so they went to the medical area while I wandered around. There wasn't anyone around so I let myself into one of the recreation areas. There was a lot of paperwork, but I found someone's briefcase. It had the general's name on it, so I decided there and then to return it to him.\"\n\n\n\"How did you manage to escape the enemy?\"\n\n\n\"I walked back sir. The general asked me where I got the briefcase and what the contents were. I wasn't sure and the general didn't remember the combination lock on the case, so I used my knife to open it. It had a hard drive and some papers in the case. All I wish now is to thank the two men that allowed me to use their toilet.\"\n\n\n\"But, how did you persuade them to give you access to all of their facilities? Were you in civilian clothing?\"\n\n\n\"No sir, I was in my regular combat fatigues. They asked me whether I was from the Army. I replied that I wasn't, since technically, I'm part of the Marine division. But they didn't ask to clarify so I didn't say.\"\n\n\n", "I had just cordially finished talking to my favorite recruit when I heard the livid call of my self-appointed second in command.\"Sargent!\" demanded Lenny, the red-faced veteran with a bit of a Napolean complex \"How can you just let Kevin slide like that.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLenny was a by the books type of guy, well kinda. He wasn't really bookish in any way. Despite his incompetencies, he held himself to a higher caliber than everyone else due to his age. When I was offered the promotion to Sargent, it was a satisfactory feeling knowing that I was favored by whom Lenny calls \"the numskulls.\" \n\n\n\n\n\nI tried to calm the runt down. \"It's fine Lenny. We all make mistakes.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"What the Hell. If I were to have pulled that shit, I would be sent home with a dishonorable discharge. This is corruption, I call it. He's a menace.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nAll honesty, Kevin was clearly an idiot, but I liked the kid, he added life to this place.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLenny continued \"Who the fuck uses the food supply to start a campfire to heat THE FOOD?\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"More will be dropped off in the morning. Don't worry about it.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nMy nonchalant attitude was like getting smacked in the face to him. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"Why the fuck do you keep him?\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"You want to know the honest truth?\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"Like there could be any good reason? He used gun powder on your birthday cake. He tried to start a jog in a known minefield. He almost got us killed by giving that Iraqi man clamshells for money. What fucking reason could you\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"He is the only soldier instructed not to kill himself upon capture.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSuddenly there was understanding. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLenny piped in, slightly calmer now \" You want an idiot, a destructive calm idiot to be captured by a ruthless enemy?\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\"We're here in this fucking mess because these sandmen are trying to get weapons of mass destruction. We're simply ensuring they succeed with their goal.\"\n\n\n\nHonestly, though, I think this form of torture violates the Geneva convention. Lenny had more to say. A lot more, but I really didn't care too much to discuss it further.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"You're sending an innocent man off to die!\"\n\n\n\n\n\"No. It doesn't work that way with Kevin,\"\n\n\nThat was that. I smiled and then walked off to my tent, the lush smell of our food rations burning in the distance. \n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] Inspired by Batman, a new vigilante appears in Gotham City with the goal of getting justice against white collar corporate criminals.	[ "Finally... there would be justice. A scant amount of balance between the haves and the have-nots. Someone to give hope back to the people starving in the streets and sleeping under bridges. A symbol for people to look toward; a beacon for those who would otherwise end their lives due to megacorporations downsizing divisions and cutting their jobs just to give the highest-ups bigger bonuses.\n\nNo child should have to suffer through the orphanages and poverty forced on them as the greed of the rich destroys their families. I must make the opulent monsters know that the legal system will no longer protect them. That their power over others will no longer be a shield from accountability. They will know fear.\n\nI'd been waiting outside Wayne Enterprises during the hottest part of the day. Bruce arrived without so much as looking in her direction as a homeless woman fell on the sidewalk less than ten feet away. Three hours had passed - a typical Bruce Wayne workday - and after months of learning his personal habits and preparing my assault I was ready to strike. I was superbly equipped; I'd analyzed Wayne Enterprises' financial records, and made pamphlets showing how tens of millions of dollars of his company's money just seemed to disappear into thin air multiple times each year. The crowd today was especially vibrant and I would have no problems disappearing.\n\nBruce came out of the building on his cell phone, distracted. His mind was no doubt already in the limousine parked 50 feet away. Plenty of time. I burst forth from my hide and the thousands of pamphlets were flung high into the air. I had the cuffs on Wayne before he could even comprehend the rain of paper was mostly a distraction. Moments later he was on the ground, and I was landing blow after blow as my fists pummeled his face. I could feel the broken bits of his sunglasses piercing my gloves, embedded in my knuckles, no doubt as deeply as they were around his eyes. \"Four, five...\" By this point Wayne's teeth were on the pavement. I counted the swings and made each one matter, imbuing them with a lifetime of power and precision. The furious violence contrasted my stoic mental state as seconds ticked by orderly in my head. I had seven before his security forces responded, and another 30 before I even had to worry about police.\n\nI grabbed Wayne by the collar after the fifth solid blow and brought the bloody mass of hamburger that was once his face close to mine. \"Tell your fatcat friends that the people of this city are no longer your pawns.\"\n\nI rolled away and slid quickly and deeply into the crowd that had gathered, shedding my outer layer of clothing and becoming invisible among the mass. Behind me I could hear the commotion of Wayne's security, and sirens coming alive in the distance. My hands throbbed and bled in my pockets all the way back home. With each jostle of the city bus the pain came, lessening each time.\n\n\"Bruce Wayne just got his ass BEAT DOWN!\" came a voice from somewhere aboard as I disembarked. I looked back to see a woman showing her friends blurry video of him being put aboard an ambulance. \"It's about time someone fucked up a rich dude. We all know they scammin'.\" A consensus of approval reverberated throughout the vehicle. The Badger had won the day." ]	1
	[WP] You are a crazed teenage girl obsessed with a boy at your school who happens to already have a lady friend. You manage to get your hands on some chloroform and decide to take care of the girl, but the only problem is chloroform doesn't work as well as it does in the movies...	[ "\"This stuff had better work,\" I thought to myself. I've seen it done a million times. Soak the rag in this stuff, sneak up behind the person, and cover their face. Boom! Passed out. \n\n\"There's no way that I'm going to miss her today. She has the same morning routine,\" my mind raced with anticipation. Suddenly, the sound of the bathroom door opened. \"She's right on time.\"\n\nPatiently, I waited for the right moment. The sound of the door slowly creaking shut filled the room. The sound of her bag being shuffled around as she hung it on the hook only heightened my senses. She was so close now. And then her foot steps passed by the stall I was hiding in since last night. This was it.\n\nJust as she passed by, I leapt out and smothered her face with the rag. I struggled to hold as she started screaming and thrashing about. I've waited for this moment for so long. I would finally be able to get with Danny. \n\ncrack\n\nMy head suddenly felt heavy and my vision was blurry. What happened? I felt a warm sensation flowing over the back of my neck. It was....relaxing. Sophia looked was though she saw a ghost. Her mouth wide open, looking at me. And then I started to shrink. I felt so weak. What was going on? Maybe I just need to close my eyes for a few seconds. \n\n________________________________________________________________\n\n\n\"Chloroform? How did she get ahold of chloroform?\"\n\n\"Ma'am, please calm down. We're going to try and figure that out. Do you know why she would have attacked a fellow student?\" the investigator asked.\n\n\"This all had to be over that Danny, starting quarterback at the high school. My daughter talked about him constantly. But what did Sophia have to do with it?\" \n\nThe sound of a gurney could be heard being wheeled out of the building behind the crowd. \"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to identify the body.\" And at that the investigator lifted the sheet.\n\nA small pool of blood had gathered underneath the head of the girl on the gurney. \"....yes. That's my daughter but how did this happen?\"\n\nThe paramedic chimed in, \"It looks like that during the struggle, Sophia managed to slam your daughter's head into the wall and it caught the shelf. Her spinal column was severed.\"\n\nAt this the investigator spoke up. \"We won't know for sure until after the autopsy.\" The woman started to cry. She just couldn't believe her daughter would do this." ]	1
Inspired by the front page post today	[WP] You are from an alien civilization many light years away from earth. Your space program's lack of funding has convinced your species that they are the only intelligent life in the universe.	[ "Anamel looked through the ultrascope once again. He could not believe what he was seeing, after all those years. He must share this with someone, Anyone!\nHe grabbed his papers reciting his detailed hypothesis and downloaded the image from his stolen ultrascope and sprinted out of the door running through the skywalk waving his arms and screaming all the way to the grand office.\nThey gave him weird looks, as if he were a fool, they were the fools, he'd show them all! He had done it the discovery of a century! He had found intelligent life!\n\nAnamel burst through the doorway to grand council's building, shoving another man to the ground and thrusted his papers onto the desk. \n\n\"What is this! Who do you think you are? Have some manners for Marn's Grace!\"\nThe man who spoke had an official look to him as if he were meant to speak with such authority.\nI've found evidence of extraterrestrial life.\"\nHave you now\"\n\nA half smile appeared on his face and his companions the one he knocked down starting laughing hysterically, a lingering sonic whine that was often only made by children. Anamel had faced this before, countless times, he would not let this stop him.\n\nI'm serious! And I demand to speak to speak to the his Stargazer.\n\nHeavy silence suffocated their laughter.\nAll faces went grim.\nThe high gazer is... busy.\nI demand an audiene, I wish to use my one coin.\nHe had him now. Each citizen was granted at least one token by which they could seek an immediate audience with one high member.\n\"Thr gazer will be seeing you shortly.\" A serious look in his eyes pierced all of Analem's hearts. Something felt... off.\n\nThe door opened and a man a full head taller than him in a fresh white cloak riddled with stars came into the room.\n\nHe gestured for Analem to follow him and he did. They walked down a hall full of what looked to be floating stars ringing the ceilings \n\n" ]	1
	[WP] You are a brain surgeon. Every time you perform a surgery, you have the ability to see memories of the patient you are operating on.	[ "Those people in the waiting area, the ones gnawing on their lips, rubbing their hands on their thighs, staring at the phones in their unsteady hands, they’re thinking of me holding a surgical knife to their heads and blood on the operating room floor. They twirl and pull their hair to remember one last time what it feels like. They’re afraid of the physical. But I’ve been doing this since ’99 and I’m the one who’s more scared.\n\nIn the OR I’ve seen head-on collisions and a machine gun in peripheral vision. I’ve heard the clunk, the empty indifference, of heavy machinery hitting a skull. I’ve seen children, tapping on the patient’s shoulder, crying “Don’t you know who I am?” I’ve seen partners holding knives between the eyes and a rope dangling slightly from the shower rod, waiting. The last things the patient saw are the first things I see.\n\nI’ve seen happy things, too, safaris in Africa, the perfect cannonball dive, the curling into a teddy bear at the end of a long day. But these don’t stick with me, they don’t make me stare at the neon alarm clock numbers with hatred and nausea in my eyes, they don’t make me furtively hide running nose when I’m on the packed afternoon commute train. They’re pleasant distractions, the filler in a horror movie you forget the second you exit the theater.\n\nI enter the waiting area. I make eye contact with the model skeleton across the room. “Evans, Henry,” I say. “Come on in.”\n\nThe patients find it impersonal that I don’t look at them. They feel uncomfortable. They don’t know that by the end of this day, I’ll know them as intimately as a childhood friend does.\n\nHenry Evans is unconscious, shaved, ready. I take a breath, open his head, the scenes play on the ceiling, glaring and blaring over the sound of my gritting teeth.\n\nBut I hear a familiar voice. My own. I glance up and there I am, slightly younger, goofier, no glasses that hide the lines under my eyes. I am grinning, like I am satisfied. Like I was hungry but had just been satiated. There’s something on my feet, but I forget, or I don’t want to remember. \n\nAnd I know, suddenly, that watching another accident or trauma or murder would be better than this. Henry Evans. How could I forget?\n\nMy eyes lock on my younger self. “No,” I whisper. The knife shakes in my hand. The staff exchange raised eyebrows behind their surgical masks. They don’t see what I see, they never have. Memories are my enemy, so much that other people’s seek me.\n\nI fled, a solitary red footprint the only proof that I had been there.\n\n", "I add the perfect amount of force as I navigate through the patients brain with pinpoint precision. Each cut made with the utmost confidence and intention. This is my first operation where I am flying solo, the first time where I will either be praised or at fault for the end result. Years worth of training kick in as I fight the adrenaline, my hand as steady as a rifleman taking a lifesaving shot in the heat of battle. One wrong move and this man's life could forever be changed.\n\nAs I gracefully make the cuts with my scalpel, I jerk my hand back from his medial temporal lobe. A barrage of nerves fill my body, causing me to freeze up. My team stares at me, each very aware of the lack of surgical experience I posses.\n\n\"Doc, is everything fine?\", one of my nurses leans over and whispers, her voice echoes in my head like she is speaking down to me through a well.\n\nMy eyes lock with her worried gaze, staring at her silently. The confusion must be glaringly obvious. I attempt to gain my composure and try to keep my wits about me.\n\n\"Yes, just going over the game plan before these next series of cuts\", I say, false confidence filling my slightly quivered voice.\n\nI move my scalpel slowly back to the brain tissue, my hand noticeably trembling now. I continue on the planned cuts, the cold steel making contact again. Abruptly, I stop myself, my head overwhelmed with a rush of memories. Vivid images roll in, overtaking any potential thought process.\n\nGasping for air and panting loudly as I bend over, my palms rest on my knees like two heavy stones. My eyes are wide as I stare down to the ground. Eight years of medical school and I fall flat on my face during my time to shine.\n\n\"I have to go. I can't do this\", I blurt out, quickly abandoning my patient and my whole team. \n\nAs I walk out of the sterilized room, the metal utensils shine so bright, they hurt my eyes. The mix between my heightened senses, the overwhelming anxiety, and the unexplained foreign memories pushes me to a near mental breakdown.\n\nMy condition worsens as the images keep coming but to make matters worse, they are being accompanied by voices to match. Naturally, I have spoken to the man I am operating on, as well as his wife, prior to beginning the surgery. Their familiar voices now fill my head, flooding into my subconscious.\n\nI can hear them, I can see them, as if I lived through each memory from the perspective of my patient. What is going on? How am I accessing all of this? \n\nNot a second goes by where my train of thought is my own. My mind has been taking over by the surge.\n\nMy panic turns into rage as frustration overcomes my senses. I walk back into the operating room, the team scrambling to find another surgeon. I grab the scalpel, my hands gripping it till the flesh on my knuckles turn white.\n\nThe scalpel now sits raised high above my head, the tool glittering in the fluorescent white emitting from the lights above. I thrust downward violently. The same pinpoint precision I used to fix, I now use to destroy.\n\n \n\n\n\n", "\"Now then, let's dig into your noggin, Mr.. Davidson was it?\" Professor Almor pushed a few buttons on his control panel as the machinery in the room hissed to life, pumping blue liquids into Mr. Davidson's veins. \n\nJack Davidson lets his eyes close, his last thoughts were of the life he would secure for his daughter Emily. \n\n\"Good, the medication should take effect any moment now. Remind me again the story we are importing this time, Ms. Penney.\" The doctor busily checked readings as his patient fell into a deep sleep. The procedure wouldn't take long, fairly standard memory wipe. The Cartel needed more bodies for the war and there were always poor sods willing to trade their body for a few coins, not that the bitcoin would ever reach its destination. \n\nThe body of Jack Davidson jerked twice and slumped forward on the chair, held in place only by the straps around his writs and knees. \"Career soldier, Professor. Joined at 16, back from his 5th tour. Mild PTSD, enough that he has trouble relating to civilian life but still able to serve. Looks like one of the higher ups put a special request in for him.\" Ms. Penney passed the clipboard over to the doctor and pointed half way down the page.\"\n\n\"We're leaving him with the same family? This could be a longer operation then I thought, will you please go reschedule my afternoon appointment.\" He slid a headpiece over Jack's face and turned on the machine behind him, pulling up Jack's timeline and memory network. Anything from before he was 16 would have to go. Delete Meeting his wife would stay (that really was a lovely blue dress, the professor thought to himself) and then it was time to fabricate the first tour, 2276, the battle of Philadelphia. It really was a slaughter, who would have thought the population would have risen up against the media? But then, I suppose that's why WarnerCom had such well trained security. The common mind still baffled the Professor. \n\nA few hours later Jake Davidson returned home to his daughter Emily and wife Sarah, a new man. ", "\n\nIn front of me was a man I knew all too well. Not personally though. He was just the\nman who killed my friend. To most his shot was justified, after all Frankie was a criminal.\nThat’s how things go down when the law has a gun. He might have been right to kill him, but\nI didn’t really care about that.\n\n“Are you sure you’re okay, Doctor?”\n\n“I’m as okay as I’ll ever be. I have to do this.”\n\nWith that we started to cut into his scalp. There’s a bullet we need to remove, courtesy of\nold Frank. After a while, a section of his skull was cut through and then removed like a \nlid to expose the swollen brain. I see the bullet and bloody dead brain tissue inside.\n\n“I’ll take it from here.”\n\n“Work your magic, Doc.”\n\nThe nurse handed me forceps and I prepared to pluck the bullet out of this guy. \nI really did want him to be a bad guy so I could feel more comfortable in despising him. I \nlooked through his history as an officer and he was completely clean. But I was going to \nfind something. Anything that would justify what I’m about to do.\n\nWhen the forceps touched the bullet I took a journey into his mind. I wanted to go straight\nfor what’s locked away deep inside of that bloody head. To see what he wanted to forget.\n\n—-\n\n“Get on the fucking ground! I’ll light your ass up!”\n\nThe officer points his handgun at a shifty looking man. The man at the end of the barrel\nflinches a bit and then breaks away, blowing by the second officer on the scene. With that\na single shot pierces the air.\n\n“Joe, what the fuck! I was about to tase the shit outta him! At least your cam was off.\nThat’ll make this shit a little easier.”\n\n—-\n\nWith one motion I snatched the bullet out of his brain and there is no further bleeding. \nThanks to my ability even the damaged brain tissue will heal. But he won’t be the same man.\nHe’ll never have another normal day. His mind will torment him until the day he dies and \nhe won’t even have the faculty to wish for death. This is my revenge. I didn’t know if this\nwas the act that would send me to hell, but I did know that he will already be there when\nhe wakes up.\n", "People like to say most surgeons suffer from god complexes, and for the most part, they're correct. It's a very technical job, one that requires years of study and rigorous practice to perform. A brain surgeon such as myself would be prey to this more than others, considering how delicate our hardware can be. One slip of the wrist and, suddenly, you end up with a vegetable on the operating table. Still, I like to think I've kept myself humble throughout the years, specially when you take into account my... gift. \n\nI'm honestly surprised I didn't kill my patient the first time it happened. I'd finally achieved my dream, I was finally going to operate on a live brain. It took me a decade to get to this point, and now, it was my time to shine. It was a simple job, relatively speaking, just a tumor extraction on a forty year-old woman. The nurses had already removed her cranium, exposing her brain for all in the room to admire, and all that was left was for me to perform the surgery.\n\nI could feel my hands trembling the closer my scalpel got to her flesh, though no one in the room could notice it. Even if I was nervous, my education had trained me to the point where even the slightest shaking felt like an earthquake to me. After what felt like a century, but was really a second, I made contact with her surface neurons, triggering inside of me a burst of energy that overwhelmed any other sensation I could feel.\n\nI saw her husband, crying as she got her first diagnosis. The anguish she felt at the thought of leaving her children. Months of depression, emotionally drained from the dread of her looming death. At that moment, I had perfect control of my faculties. I knew what I had to do. I had to save this woman and give her back the life she deserved. I'm glad to say the surgery was a success. Her cancer went into remission and, to this day, she still sends me Christmas cards as a thank you for what I did that day. \n\nIf only every story ended that way. If only I didn't have to deal with the guilt of all my other sins. I never really thought much of my ability. There really wasn't much I could do with it since I had no control over it. I actually felt bad at first, it... it was like I was intruding into the most private thing a human could have. That all changed though, when I made a decision that would haunt me for the rest of my life.\n\nIt was a rather uneventful day in the hospital. I was on-call after returning from my first vacation and an emergency surgery was required of me. Fifty year-old man suffering from internal bleeding of the head. Apparently he was playing with his children when he fell down the stairs and bashed his head in. I did my usual thing, sterilized my hands and walked into the room with my hands raised. The nursed had already prepped him, so all that was left was to do my job. \n\nAt first, his memories weren't all that unusual. A mortgage to pay, a nagging wife, loud children, the usual things a middle aged man would have. But as I delved deeper, I started to see that he wasn't exactly what he appeared on the surface. He had recently lost his job and he'd been unable to sleep well for a few months now. I saw his wife crying with him after putting their children to sleep at night, wondering what they were going to do. His daughter had special needs and needed expensive treatment to maintain a high quality of life. They were on the verge of bankruptcy and just weren't able to keep up with the bills.\n\nThat's when they came up with a desperate plan. This man... this father, he realized his life insurance was almost expiring. He couldn't pay for it anymore, and so, decided that his children were more important than him. He planned out with his wife his own death, playing with his children one last time as a convenient excuse to secure their livelihood and a secret goodbye from them at the same time. I was shocked when I saw this, but I couldn't show it to anyone in the room. I could do it. I could still save his life... but would it be the right thing to do?\n\nHe would be unable to work for months now, even if he manged to find a job. That's only in the case where he didn't end up with permanent damage. Not only would they need to care for their daughter, they'd also have to take care of him now. In a way, he was a selfish bastard... But after experiencing his memories, seeing all of his anxiety and despair, I just couldn't blame him. Unfortunately, despite tearing my soul apart, I knew what I had to do.\n\nIt felt like centuries inside my head, but it only took a few minutes for him to die. I made it seem like I did my best, but inside, I knew. I knew that I had just killed a man. Maybe I did the right thing, maybe I didn't. Just a slip of the wrist and now he was gone. Its a weird feeling now, walking around while doing my job. No one really knows what I did, and there's no conceivable way someone could prove it. \n\nStill, sometimes I wonder if this is how God feels when He does His job. Good and evil, they don't really exist. Its just humans, their choices, and their consequences when you really boil it down. I know I'm not a deity, but I'm sure as hell the closest thing to one you'll ever find. \n\n>If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories!", " Becoming a doctor was never a question,it was a fact. I knew my goal in life was to help those in need. The very idea gave me this, euphoria that could be coupled by nothing else. Sure, there were warnings. I didn’t know the work load, I was going to get burnt out, the patients were ungrateful. It didn’t matter to me, I was hard headed. Knowing then, what I know now, I would have quit. I would have never started this road of insanity. Let me explain, I’m the best in my field, it’s daunting; exhausting even. \n When I started my residency it was all smooth sailing, then during my rotation in neuro my love of medicine flourished. I knew this was where I belonged. My mistake, alas I digress.\n My first few surgeries were great, it wasn’t until something strange started happening. I would be mid-surgery and start day dreaming. Sure, nothing big, but it was distracting. At first the images were spotchy at best, but then they began to form into moving pictures, movies. A birthday party here, anniversary there. \n One day, during a follow up, one of my patients started to explain their last anniversary dinner. It was as if I were there. I know this, it felt so familiar. That’s when it hit me, I was there. It was one of the movies I watched during her procedure. Yup, you guessed it, I was reliving their most memorable events right there before my very eyes.\n At first it was nice, almost like a way to get to know my patients without them knowing, but then it started to turn ugly.\n There were things I saw, that I can’t unsee. I had to decide then and there whether to do the public a service and “fail” this operation, or do I uphold the oath I took as a doctor. I won’t burden you with the things that haunt my nightmares, but suffice it to say there are some people who are not with us now because of what I saw while performing those surgeries. I’m good, I know that, so I know also how to make things go horribly wrong and nobody's the wiser. But how do I live with myself? How do I continue practicing medicine making these decisions I do everyday.\n", "\"Scalpel,\" Doctor John Mason said, he was leading neurosurgeon in the western hemisphere, everyone that could afford him did.\n\n\"Sponge.\" The attending nurse stood at his side diligently passing him every tool he requested. This surgery had already been going on for three hours and the strain was beginning to set in. Sore feet, tight backs, red eyes. It was the usual for this team and they were used to it, they were professionals.\n\n\"I am going to begin making the first cuts, this is the tricky part,\" Dr. Mason said.\n\nHe closed his eyes, took a deep steadying breath and pressed the scalpel into the soft brain tissue.\n\nMemories burst to life inside of Dr. Mason's mind, a happy eighth birthday party, children surrounding the patient everyone happy and full of joy. A smile split Dr. Mason's face, the innocence of childhood always made him smile.\n\nHe moved the scalpel to the left, distancing the razor sharp blade from the happy memories. The scalpel pressed into the soft tissue again, he knew what to expect but it was still a shock. Vomit and bile rose in his throat as he watched the memory unfold. A dark closet, pain, alcohol on a man's breath. He swallowed the foul bile down and began to cut. The small memory was contained in a piece no larger than a dime. He moved from that dark memory to the next, his steady hands deftly slicing out the darkness leaving only the happy memories behind.\n\nSix hours after surgery began they wheeled the patient out of the operating room to her small colorful private room. Dr. Mason walked on unsteady legs to the bathroom and vomited. He never ate before surgery, so it was mostly water and acid. \n\n\"Another bad one?\" the attending nurse asked handing him a towel to wipe his face off with.\n\n\"Yeah...excuse me I need to go have a word with the parents,\" he said sadly removing his smock and gloves.\n\nHe walked down the long hallway trying to find the words to say. The parents sat outside their daughter's room holding each other. The mother's eyes were puffy and red from crying. They stood as the doctor approached.\n\n\"How did she do? Will she be okay?\" the mother asked.\n\n\"She did great, she is a very strong little girl,\" he said placing a hand on her shoulder.\n\n\"She won't remember anything, there will be some empty spots in her mind but she will be alright.\"\n\n\"Thank you so much,\" the father said choking back tears, \"I should have been there to protect her,\" he broke down crying.\n\n\"He is going to rot in prison forever, don't blame yourself,\" Dr. Mason said, \"go be with your daughter, she will want you to be there when she wakes up.\"\n\nThe parents thanked him one more time with a tearful hug and walked into their daughter's room to sit by her bedside.\n\n---\n\nThanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit\n\n\n\n " ]	7
	[WP] The MLB has consisted of 3 leagues since 1913. The National and American leagues are the same as ever, but the Federal League teams have always been a bit... Different.	[ "OK, OK, OK...deep breath. Deep breath.\n\nBreathe...and hold.....\n\nBreathe...and hold.....\n\nThis is it. This is it. This is it!\n\nShe shook her head quickly, scooped up her helmet - so little protection on the field but better than nothing - and jogged out to the field, one player among many. The light of the sun was harsh in her eyes and she shielded her eyes with the back of her hand as she moved to her position against the other team. The player opposite her grinned nastily and made a chopping motion with his hand. Disdainfully, she flipped him the bird.\n\nMajor League Baseball for the Federated Planets didn't quite start out the way it did. At first, it was the World League on Earth, and wasn't it just like the United States to claim the World League as operated by a single nation? The rest of the planet didn't pay much attention until the Lunar Colony, high off their victory from forcing the UN to recognize their independence at the barrel of a railgun, demanded to join the League.\n\nThe US, still as arrogant as ever even in the face of their inability to force the Lunies into line due to the constraints of gravity, accepted their entry in the hopes of getting back some of their own on the outfield. The Lunies, well aware of what the US hoped to accomplish, had some plans of their own. And when the dust settled, the score was a colossal 12-13; 12 players injured or dead on the US side, 13 Lunies who would never see Mare Umbium again.\n\nAnd a viewership recorded of over 5.75 billion people. Revenue from fees in the hundreds of billions. An opportunity that made some people rich for generations. And the two teams insisted on a rematch the following year. \n\nReally, it was enough to make the likes of Scrooge McDuck feel embarrassed.\n\nOver time, the game became a point of pride for not just the US and the Lunar Colony - New Parma as it eventually became known as - but first Mars, then LaGrange One, Lagrange Two, Phobos, Callisto, Ceres...the list grew with each colony. It became the mark of self-sufficiency for a colony to be able to send a team back to Earth and the playing field now located near Taipei...and the mark of a system Power in the Federation to actually win the tournament.\n\nToday, Eris was playing its breakout game against the Russian Federation. She hoped she'd make a good showing for her planet. At least survive until the end. Well...the first few innings, anyway.\n\nWith a roar, the crowd cheered the launch of the first pitch. The spiked ball sparked occasionally as the electrified surface came in contact with the insects flying through the air. She nodded, pounded her glove with her fist, and pondered how best to get past the other guy's cup and stomp his balls to paste." ]	1
	[WP] Your "friend Ryan turns out to be a shapeshifter. He thinks you don't notice every time he presents himself as a "new" person , but you're just play along with his bit to be nice.	[ "\"George!\" I heard a voice call from a distance.\n\nFrank, Perry and I turned to see who was chasing after me. Of course, I knew it was Ryan, but Frank and Perry only saw a sexy girl jogging over, breasts barely being contained by Ryan's sister's bra and the shortest skirt that can legally be worn in public.\n\nPerry whispered to me, \"Who the hell is that? She's hot!\"\n\nI shook my head and rolled my eyes. Ryan stopped a few feet in front of me. \"Hey, George! Do you remember me? I'm Carla!\" he said. I'll give it to him. He did look and sound good, but I knew this wasn't some extremely attractive girl I met somewhere and somehow forgot meeting. No. This was Ryan. He just looked like a really attractive girl.\n\n\"Umm,\" I said, scratching the back of my head. \"Y'know... I'm sorry, no.\"\n\nRyan's eyes lit up. He now knew he could make up a fantastic story just for the hell of it. I really think this dude got off on these lies.\n\n\"Well, we made out at Jillian's birthday party a few weeks back!\" Ryan said. (S)He smirked and gave me a flirtatious wink.\n\n\"Oh, yeah!\" I said. Ryan was taken aback. I had never before gone along with his story like this. Usually he'd get a chance to claim I was drunk or stoned. This time, I was going to flip the script on him. I was sick of his shit.\n\n\"Oh,\" Ryan said in a voice so quiet, it wasn't even audible.\n\n\"Yeah,\" I continued. \"So, you never called me?\"\n\n\"Me?\" Ryan asked. \"I thought I gave you my number, though... I don't remember getting yours.\"\n\nFrank and Perry stared at me in amazement. In their eyes, I had apparently gone to second base with the hottest girl in town.\n\n\"Carla,\" I said to Ryan, just barely remembering the name he had introduced himself as. \"It was nice meeting you at Jill's party, but honestly, I'm already taken.\"\n\n\"Oh...\" Ryan said. He turned around and walked away. Frank and Perry watched as Ryan's female form's butt bounced in his tight jeans. I was over it. He'd pulled something similar on me twice before. Not this time.\n\nFrank wanted to know how Carla's lips tasted. Perry wanted to know why I'd lied about being in a relationship already. Frank pressed me on whether or not we went beyond just kissing. Perry called out for Ryan.\n\nI turned to see Ryan walking by. How'd he shape-shift so fast...?\n\nHe was walking towards us from the opposite direction of Carla. I couldn't grasp how he did that. I stood stunned.\n\nRyan walked over and shook hands with all of us. My hand was practically limp when we shook.\n\n\"What's up, fellas?\" Ryan asked.\n\nPerry answered, \"George just turned down a dime!\"\n\n\"What?\" Ryan looked at me. He seemed genuinely confused. It had to be an act, though--- right?\n\n\"Yeah,\" replied Frank. \"Some girl introduced herself to him and said she met him at Jill's party.\"\n\n\"My cousin Jill?\" asked Ryan.\n\nFrank and Perry nodded. I continued to stare at Ryan's face. Could he teleport himself, too? Perry and Frank had still been staring at Ryan's \"Carla\" body as he walked away from us when Perry spotted Ryan coming from the opposite direction.\n\n\"H-h-how--- H-how--- How'd you do it?\" I stammered. \"How'd you teleport across the hall?\"\n\nRyan gave me a puzzled look. \"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"I know about the shape-shifting,\" I said. Ryan seemed stunned suddenly. His eyes widened and his mouth slightly opened as though his jaw was ready to drop.\n\n\"I don't know what you're talking about,\" Ryan replied. I grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the other two knuckleheads.\n\n\"Stop bullshitting me, Ryan,\" I angrily whispered. \"I know it was you dressed as the old man who bought us beer last week. I know it was you who approached Frank and traded Pok'emon cards with him from his own deck that you stole from his room last month! I also know it was you who introduced yourself as Percy and convinced Perry to buy Frank's old Pok'emon cards back. I know it all!\"\n\nRyan pushed my ever tightening hand off his arm. \"You're hurting me, dude.\"\n\n\"I don't care!\" I whisper-shouted. \"How'd you transform from that girl into yourself and move so fast?\"\n\n\"What girl?\"\n\n\"Carla!\"\n\n\"Carla?\"\n\n\"Yes! You said we met at Jill's party and made-out!\"\n\nRyan laughed. \"No way, dude. I can't turn into a girl.\"\n\n\"What?\" I asked.\n\n\"I can't transform into a chick. You did meet Carla at Jillian's party. Carla is my cousin through marriage.\"\n\nAnd with that, I punched Ryan's face in until his nose broke." ]	1
	[WP] As the villain is simply too powerful for the league of heroes, our champions unveil their secret weapon: they call his mother.	[ "Very, very few men and women have the clearance to stand in this room, and they're all here, lined around a huge oaken table, staring intently in the screens. There are no experts, no drone operators, no eager assistants with clipboards.\n\nThere are, however, cold pots of coffee and half eaten plates of food. They have been busy for a while, and fatigue is visible in the wrinkles and tight lips around the table.\n\nGeneral Hamill is speaking into the microphone.\n\n'Permission granted', he says, 'time is 20:04, you have eleven minutes to get inside', giving start to operation Snowman. \n\nPulse, one of the heroes of the United States, Bolivian by birth and one of the most important assets of the military, nods and leaps. His leap takes him several thousand meters into the air, onto a huge metal construction floating in the clouds, in obvious disdain of gravity. \n\nHe drops down the two operatives he is holding by the belts, and jumps down to the ground to deliver two more. One of them immediately points an M4 rifle towards the man standing there. The other one puts his hands up and spits a focused stream of fire towards each camera around them.\n\nGeneral Hamill relaxes a little as Doctor Evil's minion identifies himself and confirms that he disabled all automatic defense systems. The split screen on the giant monitor shows the point of view of sixteen operatives at a time, and General Fisher switches between them as new points of interest arise. \n\nPulse brings two mores parahumans, then two more soldiers, than more parahumans, again and again, until the helicopter pad is crowded. (The Director of the Solaris project vehemently opposed bringing nearly all of his agents aboard, but he was overruled.)\nOn the other side of the base, more soldiers are air dropped, and twin blasts of plastic explosives are heard, even through the great distance.\n\nFirestorm is bringing down a focused stream of fire in front of him, a white hot lance painful to the eye, turning the solid metal walls into blazing droplets of steel. He pauses, then steps aside to make way as two marines enter through the hole and trample down, ready to shoot down anyone in their way. A giant white wolf starts running beside them. The operatives, parahumans and soldiers alike, wait for the metal to cool, then start pouring through the hole. Firestorm turns his attention towards melting the cameras and the lifeless servo-guns mounted on the walls.\n\nOperation Snowman goes well. Gamma-4 and Gamma-8 bring down one of Dr. Evil's men before he manages to reach for his hand gun. \n\n'We received a transmission from several sources. Putting it on the screen now.' The Director of NSA speaks up from where he is sitting.\n\nA distorted image of a frail old man appears on one of the secondary monitors, and his rasping voice fills the room. \n\n'...whoever you are, THIS WILL NOT GO UNPUNISHED! You know that I react, heh, heh, badly, to such things. I really, don't make me go there, I don't like employing my usual methods, but uh I, khuh huh, have to teach you a lesson, so that you know not to fuck with me. I will find you and I promise you...'\n\nJust as abruptly as it appeared, the image of Dr. Evil disappears. Director Griggs speaks up again. 'I will let you know if he says anything of substance', and plugs a headphone into his ear. \n\nNobody replies. In this setting terseness and precise words take the place of politeness.\n\nFirestorm finishes his job, and strides inside. \n\nA few robots are spotted and dispatched by the soldiers and Überwolf. The first terrorist in a Mecha suit shows up in the northern quadrant and quickly plugs the breach there. General Hamill purses his lips as, on the screen, incendiary grenades and EMPs fail to achieve anything. A camera turns to static, then another one quickly afterwards. \n\n'Teams Sigma and Epsilon, abort mission. Extract and drop down.' \n\nMost of the cameras in the northern quadrant show their owners retreating, then jumping down, parachutes ready to be ejected. A few lay unmoving on the floor. General Fisher removes them from the feed.\n\n'Lt. Peterson reports that Haunt found a cafetaria and is holding everyone there hostage.'\n\n'Excellent. Lieutenant, take Elry and relieve Haunt. Tell her to go ahead.' Haunt couldn't carry a camera and communication equipment due to her immaterial form.\n\n'Teams Delta, Team Gamma, you are to explore the extent of the corridors to the east and west respectively. Electro, Pulse, go with them, one parahuman with each team. If you find gyms, common rooms, barracks or sleeping rooms, take hostages and escort them to the cafeteria. Try to open each locked door you pass with their telemetrics. Report if you succeed.'\n\nOrders come out of Hamill in quick succession. On occasion, he repeats a report from his audio feed to the people in the room. \n\n'Conquistador, I appreciate the initiative, but leave the air vents.'\n\n'Spar, check if you can fry with the terminals next to the doors.'\n\nHaunt is exploring forwards, passing through the metal walls and back, to report what lies ahead.\n\nAnother Mech finally appears, bringing down Überwolf and the two soldiers with him with frightening ease. Hamill barks more orders. Electro waits patiently for the heavy footsteps to approach and shoots pulsating blasts of energy from his fists, curving around the corner. When he goes around, it only finds smoldering metal heap and a thick smell in the air, as expected. ‘Mech is dispatched, sir', he reports, satisfaction clear in his voice. \n\nMore hostages are taken. None have the clearance to open the doors to other sectors.\n\n'Hamill, bring up camera fourteen again.' \n\nOne of the soldiers in the northern sector is standing up and walking. \n\n'Private, ..uh, Fleming, report'.\n\n'We entered the base successfully and encountered a mech at approximately 2029. In the ensuing conflict I was knocked back by one of the explosions. Apparently my exosuit didn't manage to deal with the stress, and I've blacked out. The suit gave me an adrenaline injection. When I came about, I was the only one around from my team. Alive, at least. I'm proceeding with the original objectives: scout, locate, disable.'\n\nGeneral Hamill is silent for a second. 'Good call, private. Proceed. You are on your way to a Medal of Courage.'\n\nThe corridors are long and winding, leading to the left and right, but never directly to the heart of the base.\n\n'Firestorm, make holes in the walls. We need to spread out.'\n\n'Is that wise?' The President speaks for the first time, his voice hoarse from the hours of silence.\n\n'We are running out of time, Mr. President. Yes, it is risky, but we simply cannot afford to give Dr. Evil more time. Plus, he's mobilizing his defenses right now, so the faster we reach him, the better.'\n\nThe President wisely keeps his silence, but his finger is tracing a key, a key that will send ballistic missiles into Dr. Evil's flying base. The base is situated directly over Seoul, and hundreds of thousands will die if the missiles launch. Still, the President considers it a last resort option. Dr. Evil must not be allowed to carry out his threats.", "\"Which one of you has been bullying my little baby!\"\n\nMrs. Doomside crossed her arms and squinted. She had to, considering she was over three hundred feet tall. From behind a polka dotted skirt that could cover mountains, Doomside was grinning and making faces.\n\nCommander StarStripe, valiant leader of the Order Buddies, pooped himself a little. This was not going to go as planned...\n\n", "\"Fuck!\" Damien cursed, clutching his stab wound. \"He's too strong in this current state.\"\n\nDamien's silver haired hand-maiden was hiding behind a table, silent tears forming in her eyes as she fought hard to resist the urge to help Damien. He had already put Emilia Pendragon and the Royal Guard out of commission, now he was competing with a Holy Knight.\n\n\"Give it up, Damien.\" Count Reginald said, flicking the blood off of his sword. He pointed the business end at Damien then flourished it, laughing when Damien struggled to pick himself up from the floor.\n\n\"Alright, you leave me no choice.\" Damien muttered, forcing himself to his legs by grabbing on a table. Reginald lunged at Damien, who forced him to get back by throwing a vase at him.\n\n\"Pitiful.\" Reginald taunted, a sinister grin twisting at the corners of his mouth.\n\n\"Liz,\" Damien said, draining the air of humidity to form a small ball of electricity in his hands. \"Use plan Alpha Omega 11-87.\"\n\nReginald once again lunged at Damien, attempting to thrust the sword through his stomach. Damien stopped it with his palm, the blade forcing its way through his hand to his wrist. Electricity cracked between him and Reginald, a random strike burning through the roof and separating him and Reginald.\n\n\"This is the end, Damien!\" Reginald cackled, leaping above one of Damien's lightning strikes.\n\n\"COUNT REGINALD VON BARTLESBY!\" A mature voice yelled, prompting the would-be murderer to stop completely.\n\n\"Ooh. You're in trouble now~!\" Damien taunted, watching Liz walk the woman into the courtyard of their home.\n\n\"You. Did. Not.\" Reginald muttered, ignoring Damien's giggling fit as he quickly flicked the blood off his sword and shaped up to meet the woman.\n\n\"Damien!\" Liz cried, wrapping her arms around the bleeding man's torso. His only response was to wrap his cut palm around her and place his unharmed hand on her head, ruffling her hair.\n\n\"How're you doing, Auntie Bartlesby?\" Damien asked, getting a cheek pinch from the older woman.\n\n\"You've gotten so big since the last time I saw you! It wouldn't kill for you to call home.\" She said, kissing his cheek. He didn't notice the pout on Liz's face when he brought his attention back over to her.\n\n\"Mom, I know it looks bad. But trust me, he was the one in the wrong!\" Reginald said, pointing an accusing finger at Damien. The only response he got was Damien and Liz sticking their tongues out at him.\n\n\"Reginald...\" She said, the tone in her voice getting dark. \"You should know better.\"\n\nReginald's world shattered when she fished around in her purse, pulling out his worst fear.\n\nThe sandal.\n\n\"Momomomomomomomom, think about this.\" He begged, hands going to cover his ass immediately. But it didn't matter. In an instant, he was doubled over, rolling while clutching his backside.\n\n\"Thanks, Aunt Bartlesby.\" Damien said, still clutching Liz to him.\n\n\"No, you were involved too sweetheart.\" She said, her voice switching between motherly and demonic.\n\nShe took a step forward, which forced Damien to throw Liz upstairs so she wouldn't be next.\n\n\"Save yourself!\" He said, giving her an artificial smile.\n\nShe'd never forget his sacrifice. Partially because he's still alive.", "\"And when I vaporize San Francisco, the rest of the world will know of my power and bow down to me! Muahahaha!\" The nefarious villain, Ubermensch, cackled. One of his mechanical spiders crunched the Golden Gate Bridge into Reese's Pieces sized rubble in the background. \n\nThe caped hero, Blue Man, watched him solemnly and held up a phone to Ubermensch. \"It's for you,\" he said. \n\n\"What?\" Snapped Ubermensch.\n\n\"It's your mom,\" said Blue Man. \"We called her and told her what you're doing, and she wants to talk to you.\"\n\nUbermensch paled. \"Idon'twanttotalktoher,\" he said quickly.\n\n\"Don't be silly, Steffy-poo.\" Dammit. The phone was on speaker. \"You haven't called me in ages! And what happened to that IT job you had at Sam's business a while ago? They're worried sick about you!\"\n\nBlue Man pressed the phone into Ubermensch's hands. \n\n\"I don't want the IT job!\" Yelled Ubermensch into the receiver. \"And how many times must I tell you not to call me Steffy-poo?\"\n\n\"Alright, Stephen.\" His mom sighed. \"I don't know why you insist on these ridiculous ventures. A supervillain is not a good career, you know. Terribly fast burn out rates. Why, I heard Burn Man retired just last week after two weeks at the job. Something about batarangs ripping his outfits day after day.\" \n\n\"Gotham is right after San Francisco!\" Snarled Ubermensch, clenching his fists. \"And it's Ubermensch, not Stephen, mom!\" \n\n\"Stephen,\" his mom said, completely ignoring him. \"I want you to stop this nonsense and come home. I made meatballs. And I LIVE in San Francisco, you idiot.\" \n\nUbermensch unfurled his fist. \"The Italian meatballs?\"\n\n\"You know the one,\" said his mother sweetly.\n\n\"Fine,\" grumbled Ubermensch. \"But you're doing the dishes.\" \n", "-Stewart! What in heavens do you think you're doing?! \n\n-M-momma...?! - his finger circled off the giant red button in the steel panel. -What are you doing here?! \n\n-Your friends called me, Stewart! They say you're trying to destroy the entirety of Manhattan! What are you thinking?! Your aunt Marie lives in Manhattan! \n\n-Those aren't my friends! They're my rivals! And stop calling me Stewart, mom! I'm a villain now! I'm MegaBit now! \n\n-Get your pesky ass down here right now, Stewart! Before I call your father! \n\nMegaBit sighed and started walking down the metal stairs, as the whole Justice Squad giggled like infants behind his mother. \n\n-And take that ridiculous cape of your neck, you look like a freak! What did you do to that sweater I gave you for Christmas?\n\n-Just drive me home, mom..." ]	5
	[WP] You wake up in an abandoned club with no memory. The tvs are playing a 10 second loop of the same advert and there is a trail of blood leading to the door.	[ "The first thing I notice is that my face hurts.\n\nIt's pressed against the wooden floorboards, my eyes open and pain shoots through my cheek and neck. I try to move my head but my neck denies that.\n\nSlowly I manage to roll myself over and face the ceiling. Well, my body faces the ceiling and my head still looks to the right.\n\nI can hear commercials on the screens, it's replaying a loop. Something about...granola bars? Cereal. It's cereal. I think. They're singing and dancing and I don't understand it.\n\nIt takes time but I eventually can straighten my head and look up. It's a roomy place, vaulted ceilings made of dark metal. I sit up and look around.\n\nIt's a bar. Or club. Probably a club since there's next to zero seating. There's a long glass topped counter where bartenders should be.\n\nI put my hands behind me and they touch something wet. Not fully wet. Like bread dough with too much water or paint that's half dry.\n\nGoopy. As I bring my hand up I see it's a dark red. Almost black. It smells metalli...it's blood. Oh fuck it's blood. I stand, looking for someone. A sign of something.\n\nThe blood is a trail, leads towards a set of double doors. It appears to, illegally, be the only exit out. Where in the 'verse am I and how did I get here? Only one option now.\n\nI push open the doors and find myself looking at two bodies sprawled in very uncomfortable positions. Both have gunshot wounds and it looks like one of them was pulling the other out of the room I was in.\n\nThere's no time to think before heavy boots come thundering down the metal staircase, heavily armed men with pulse rifles and body armor. Alliance.\n\nFuck. Something tells me to run. Something tells me to turn myself in, I don't know what happened here. Something else entirely takes over my body.\n\nBefore I can charge at the incoming soldiers, which is what my brain has decided is a good idea, the wall explodes inward. Four figures enter through the dust, firing wildly at the troopers on the stairwell.\n\n\"We need to get you out of here!\" one of them yells and for whatever reason I decide to trust them.\n\nAs I'm stepping over the rubble to join them in the bright sunlight overlooking a wide cityscape I hear a shout.\n\n\"Stop!\"\n\nI see him at the top of the stairs. An average man with short, military hair. He holds a pistol and his eyes, those strange blue eyes, stare into my soul.\n\nAnd I know. I know the experiments they did on me. I know how the molded my brain to suit their needs since I was deemed fit. I know how they wanted me to be their killing machine after the last one disappeared.\n\nThere's no time to react when the bullet hits my shoulder and spins me out the gaping hole in the wall. Into empty space, thousands of feet above the streets below.\n\nI fall.\n\nBut I remember." ]	1
	[WP] You are a police officer in the GTA universe, having to deal with the protagonist's crap	[ "Officer Malone walked between the many cubicles that housed his fellow staff of the Los Santos Police Department. He felt eyes on him, but didn't bother to meet them. \n\n\"Hey Rick, you ok?\" Jenny, a fresh faced recruit, asked gently as Malone slowly passed her. He smiled vaguely and nodded, but kept on.\n\nAt the far back of the office space, Malone paused by the opening of a cubicle. It was empty. It had no personality, not like the others in the room which were covered in family photos and other personal knick-knacks from the employees. He entered it and stood a while, staring at the empty desk. All gone, just like that.\n\n\"I'll miss you, old friend,\" Malone sniffed, and produced a small glimmering badge from his pocket and placed it on the desk. He batted at his watery eyes, not wanting to make a scene, and turned away from the badge. He took a deep breath and noticed the others in the room were keeping themselves busy now, not staring; trying to let him have his moment in peace, and he was thankful. \n\nOn the wall adjacent to the office, he ran his eyes over the thousands of tiny white stars painted from floor to ceiling. \n\nIt's all going to hell, isn't it?, he thought, taking in every star that represented officers fallen in the past three days. His best friend was now represented by one of them. His best friend was now nothing more than a star on the wall. \n\nAs he fought tears, an officer darted past him and towards the front of the building. Then another, and Malone turned to see almost the entire floors precinct up and heading for the front. As he watched, Officer Petty laid a hand on his shoulder, startling him. \n\n\"Sorry Nick, but we got another call. You up for it?\" Petty said.\n\n\"What now?\" asked Malone, a quiver in his voice.\n\n\"Some guy is dumping grenades out of his car window on Vespucci beach. Got a confirmed ten casualties. Reports that someone else started firing on the perp with a some kinda bazooka,\" Petty seemed almost excited by the news. \"Feel free to stay behind, you know, if you need to.\" Petty trotted away, his hand already on his holster. \n\nMalone staid put a while, thinking about Brad, his fallen partner, and thinking about revenge. He headed for the exit.\n\n\n\n", "The evening was clear; the summer sun beading down in an otherwise clear sky. The weather was rather hot, sticky even. The faulty AC in the squad car didn't help matters, as it cut in and out at its own discretion.\n\n\"Jesus man, can you believe this heatwave?\" Rodgers asked from the passenger side as he glanced offhandedly out the open window.\n\n\"I hear it's a 115 out by the Alamo Sea. I don't know about you, but this beats being stranded in some desert hellhole.\" I responded as I steered the car through Murrieta Heights.\n\n\"Ah, good old Blaine County. Nothing but cousin fucking methheads, Mexican cartels, and a climate better known as \"Satan's Ass Crack\".\" Rodgers spat gum out the window, before smirking, \"Sounds like a good place to take the wife and kids on vacation.\"\n\nI'll admit I had to laugh at that. It had been a slow day thus far. We broke up a domestic dispute La Mesa that morning, and then busted a couple of crackheads for smoking rocks in public; but otherwise hadn't had anything come up all day. If anything, it was a perfect day to just shoot the shit, and hand out traffic citations to any poor bastard dumb enough to look at us the wrong way.\n\n\"So did you pop the question?\" Rodgers asked as he swilled from his 40 ounce he had stashed on the floor.\n\n\"No man, you know me.\" I chuckled, \"I prefer a bit of finesse, really see what she's into. I don't want to rush things.\"\n\n\"I guess if you like living like a monk, that's the way to do things.\" Rodgers jabbed.\n\n\"Better than rushing things, and ending up with two shitty kids and a chubby fucking wife.\" I countered.\n\n\"Aww fuck you man, Lonnie's the best thing to ever happen to me.\" He recounted mockingly.\n\n\"Best thing to ever happen to you?\" I remembered, \"I thought that was reserved for that hooker you met in Vice City?\"\n\n\"Hey,\" Rodgers frowned, \"She was a nice lady. Don't judge.\"\n\n\"Bitch had a Adam's Apple bigger than mine-\" I began, when the radio crackled to life.\n\n\"Unit 7L7... Come in.\"\n\n\"Go ahead dispatch.\" I responded dully.\n\n\"We have reports of a Code 664, possible 602 or 594, in the area of Grove Street, Davis Avenue. Numerous reports of reckless driving. Respond.\"\n\n\"Yeah fine whatever.... Darla.\" Rodgers said as he snatched the receiver from my hand, \"7L7 responding.\"\n\n\"We're driving all the way into Davis for a fucking reckless driver?\" I grimaced.\n\n\"Like they couldn't find anyone else.\" Rodgers shrugged, \"20 bucks says it's the Ballas this time.\"\n\n\"I'll see your bet, and raise you 30 for it being The Families.\" I agreed. We put the money on the dashboard as we drove at pace through town.\n\nReaching the intersection, we circled the area for a moment. No sign of anything unusual other than the occasional gangbanger giving us the bird. We were about to give up... And then I saw it. There, in the parking lot of the LTD station was a muscle car double parked. I normally wouldn't have worried about something like that, but this car seemed oddly familiar... And then the glass exploded out of the window next to the front door.\n\nWait...\n\n\"Dispatch, backup to Davis and Grove, quick!\" I exclaimed as we flicked the lights and sirens on. No sooner did we flick them on before buckshot tore into the car.\n\n\"Shit!\" Rodgers winced as we ducked under the dash. Pellets struck the windshield, and rocked the car. I peered up, and immediately recognized him. We'd bagged this guy a couple of months prior. He was some transplant from the ass end of nowhere, who we caught with a stolen gun. After beating him stupid, we dropped him off at the hospital instead of the courthouse.\n\nIt was him alright. He even drove the same car.\n\nHe tore out of the parking lot at breakneck speed, the muscle car arcing in a smoky burnout down the street. I stepped on the gas, and rocketed out after him. The car was full of holes, but the tires weren't hit. So I stayed on the gas trying to catch up to him.\n\n\"Suspect headed westbound, Sabre Turbo, Red!\" Rodgers rattled into the radio, \"Speeds in excess of 90! License plate 8K3O-553D!\"\n\nWe hurdled through intersections at deadly speed. He was running for broke, every one in awhile, jamming the brakes to swing a turn. He began pulling away on the straightaways, the big block putting more and more room between us.\n\nA pair of other units swerved in behind him, and joined the chase along with the helicopter now hovering overhead. Eventually, he had to slow down some in the Vinewood area, the road shrinking in on either end into a gauntlet. Nevertheless, he maintained 80, scraping by cars on either side.\n\n\"Got you now, you fuck!\" Rodgers said as he leaned out the window and fired a magazine. A round struck the back windshield of the Sabre, and the car wriggled for a moment. The back window imploded in a hail of bullets which peppered our car once again. I flinched and heard a loud pop. The car fought to the right now, and I struggled to keep it on the road. Another squad car was hit also; it eventually drifted to the right, struck a wall and exploded almost immediately.\n\n\"Oh shit.\" Rodge exclaimed in surprise.\n\n\"We got a blowout!\" I yelled over the wind. I yanked the wheel violently to keep us steady, the car arcing wide left, as I followed the car closely. Night fell, and racing into the area around the Vinewood Hills, I lost him near the observatory,\n\nWe glanced around for sometime, as roadlbocks and swat canvassed the neighborhood, if only to be on the losing team at best. When suddenly he came, straight at us, full speed, with his brights on.\n\n\"Look out!!\" Rodge screamed, and I snatched the wheel away from the car, only to strike a barrier and roll several times.\n\nI awoke strapped in my seat upsde down. I glanced over to see, Rodgers lying a few feet from the car, unmoving. I unbuckled, and paused in shock as I saw the familiar car creep up to the scene of the wreck. It sat for a moment, before cruising away. Rodgers was dead, I was trapped, and the suspect disappeared. Literally.\n\nNo one knows even where the car went either. They drove into an apartment complex's garage, and haven't been seen in a month. I know one thing, whoever he is; he has a reputation now. Apparently they've been making big moves for sometime, and now word is, they have been pulling major heists and running contraband around the city in various vehicles.\n\nI don't know when I'll get out this hospital bed for sure, probably in the morning. But when I do, I'll be sure to find the guy that did this. This isn't over.", "Michael De Santa. Franklin Clinton. Trevor Phillips.\n\nI stared down at the sheet of paper in front of me, looking at the faceless names that the entire LSPD knew by heart- and hated. To the right of the paper was a small manila envelope filled with a collection of things I'd already memorized; their appearances, their criminal history, their evasion of justice... and their kill count. Thousands of innocent officers- yes, thousands- had been killed in the line of duty by these monsters, and three times that number in civilians were murdered in blood even colder.\n\nI had seen these men look into the eyes of children, and then fire nine-millimeter rounds into those eyes. Seen the dying young women they'd slept with, bleeding to death in an alley, their sex trade cash taken back. Seen them run over these people's mothers with fancy sports cars and ignite their fathers with gasoline. These men had done... unforgivable things.\n\nI hated them for it.\n\nAnd that's what landed me the job.\n\n***\n\n\"Take a seat.\"\n\nI looked around the chief's surprisingly bland office, then to his uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs. I elected to pull the one on the left out, and did so. Sitting on it, I was finding it just as uncomfortable as I had expected. \n\n\"Have you been briefed on the Los Santos Domestic Counterterrorist Unit?\" He tilted his head somewhat quizzically, and looked at me as I shifted in my seat.\n\n\"I have not, sir,\" I replied. Making eye contact, I continued. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Something you are now finding yourself a part of. I'm reassigning you, and only you, to it. Take that as a compliment.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, certainly. But what is* it, exactly?\"\n\n\"Exactly what the name implies; an elite group of people dedicated to the capture, or more likely killing, of domestic terror threats and major crimes, which have been running rampant lately- mostly due to our three friend, the coldhearted trio of De Santa, Clinton and Philips.\" I noticed that he had laid out an array of folders on the desk. \n\nI looked at him with a look I hoped didn't look too confused, and replied \"Why me, sir?\"\n\n\"To be completely honest with you, you're the only proper veteran we have left. Our three dear friends either killed them or caused them to retire. Now, don't be worried, kid; you're not gonna be the only one. The National Guard is finally getting on these pricks' cases, and they're militarizing our police force. The unit you're being assigned to is armed with the latest and greatest of technology to lower casualty rates.\" He slid one of the many manila folders toward me, beckoning me to open it.\n\nI complied, and opened the folder, giving an impressed whistle. Pulling out the first paper in the folder and laying it out on the table, I began reading it off. \"M2 Bradson Infantry Fighting Vehicle. 1x 25mm chain gun, HEI/APFSDS/APDS. 1x 7.62mm machine gun. 2x AT launchers, 0.63m armor penetration. Rotating turret. Protection against small AT rounds. 3 crew, 6 passengers. 35 MPH. Rubber tracks.\" Smiling, I looked up from the paper. \"Looks like this is the safest job in the world, if we're in these.\"\n\n\"Calm down, kid, don't make a mess in your pants. These guys are known for getting their hands on military jets and helicopters, then blowing up tanks with them. I'm just trying to show you some of your equipment here. This is an extremely dangerous job, and while we're mostly just trying to take down these three, there can be all sorts of dangerous people to look out for.\"\n\nI grimaced slightly, my minor excitement fading as I realized the implications. \"Understood, sir.\"\n\n\"You've earned some points with me for being so cooperative, even without a choice. You may have, in fact, noticed that I didn't give you a choice in this- that's because you can't say yes or no to the reassignment. Instead, you say yes or no to being employed. I know you'll say yes, but just for the formality, what do you say?\" He gave me a smile, not out of happiness, but instead of a dire need for a willing person, quite obviously.\n\nI glanced back down at the paper, sliding them out like a hand of cards, looking through the equipment and thinking about how safe this job was going to be. I looked back up at him, and stood up in my chair, extending a hand. As he took it and shook, I said \"I'm in.\"\n\nHe gave me a more sincere smile this time, absolutely out of happiness- happiness from relief. \"Alright then. Make the LSPD proud. One of those papers has a list of contacts; it tells you who you need to call. For now, you can get back to your office and pack your things.\" He hesitated for a moment, and then continued- \"Don't make just us proud. Make me proud.\"\n\nI gave my best positive smile, and gave him a reply. \"Yes, sir. Thank you for your time.\" And with that, I left.\n\n****\n\nHey, it's like REALLY late where I am, and I threw this together in like 45 minutes, ish. Would like some critique. If you guys liked it, just tell me and I can start working on a part 2! ", "\"Did that guy just beat that lady to death?!?\" I asked my partner Joe with a mouth full of donuts.\n\n\"Call it in\" Joe replied coolly as he flipped on the siren and made a U-turn.\n\n\"Dispatch, we have a Caucasian male, mid 40's, wanted for assault and possible homicide. He's wearing only a pair of briefs and just stole an off road vehicle now headed north bound towards the airport.\" \n\n\"Shit, hold on!\" Joe warned as the suspect swerved towards a billboard shaped conveniently like a ramp.\n\n\"Daaaaaaaaaamn!\" I exclaimed as I watched in awe while the suspect flew over the freeway hundreds of yards into the air. I wasn't impressed for very long. The suspects car crashed nose first when it landed ejecting his almost naked body from the car, sliding and rolling across the ground. Luckily, we landed smoothly and drifted to a stop. \n\nAs Joe and I got out of our police car, we drew our guns and rushed over to the suspect as he got up and dusted himself off. \"You're under arrest!\" I called out as a formality, seeing as how protocol is to kill upon arrest. As I pulled the trigger I notice something drop from the suspects hand. \n\n\"Shit...\" I recognized, as the sticky bomb he dropped exploded sending the three of us hurtling through the air in slow motion as everything began to fade away." ]	4
	[WP] Being the customizable RPG character you are, you've found out that you can get away with wearing anything at any time.	[ "The internal screaming has begun, nothing will ever cause as much pain as the six a.m alarm clock. I begrudgingly hit snooze just one more time, the biggest lie any teenager has ever told themselves.\n\nBeep. Beep. Beep. Okay, one more time. Silence I lay there in perfect harmony as I allow myself to fall into- \"Wake up, you're going to be late for school!\" My mother's silhouette yells from the doorway.\n\nI look at the time and my eyelids jerk open so fast they get whiplash. Rushing to my closet, I throw off my pajamas. Looking into my school section, I see nothing. Frantically tearing through the monochromatic wardrobe my mother swears is just a phase, I am unable to find a single white polo shirt. Fuck.\n\nI run into my dirty laundry and tear it apart even faster, the pressure building as I hear my mother screaming at my brother now. Her footsteps inch closer to my room and I find it- my school uniform approved sweater and see a glimpse of white underneath. I smell it and throw it on.\n\nRunning out the door I grab my brown bag lunch and throw it into my book bag. I sprint to the school across the street narrowly missing the crossing guard. As I turn my body to avoid the crossing guard, I see a bundle of my peers pointing at me. It must be my hair I conclude putting the scraggly mess into a ponytail.\n\nThe final bell rings giving me a warm flashback to this morning when my alarm clock went off. Breathing heavy, my pace shortens as I slip through students on my way into West Lincoln High Middle School- my personal hell. \n\nThe pointing has evolved into whispering as all my peers seem to be personally offended by me. \n\n\"Have a great day Vanessa,\" one of my teachers shouts. I put my hand up to acknowledge her, too engrossed in the mob of peers staring at me. The whispering becomes a storm, eventually louder than my own heartbeat. My brain races as people split for me like the red sea. Every eye in the building is zeroed in on me. \n\n\"VANESSA ISN'T IN UNIFORM!\" someone yells from the second floor which catalyzes the the students around me to erupt into movement, turning them into the crowd at a concert. They are pushing and screaming trying to get to the lead singer, which happens to be me. Though there seems to be a bouncer between us, because not a single person is willing to touch me.\n\nWhat the hell is going on. I rack my thoughts trying to unravel what happened to make me such a target for 700 students. As the principal rushes towards me it hits me. A breeze rushes by me and moves the prickles on my legs I meant to shave this morning.\n\nLooking down, my worst fear has been imagined. \"Vanessa can wear whatever she wants now GET TO CLASS!\" the principal yells. The horde of students fight back against the man and engulf Mr. Weatherwax. I guess he wasn't Moses.\n\nEvery single eye is on me. This is the opposite of a school presentation. Instead of imagining everyone in their underwear, they're all seeing me in my Elmo panties I have hidden for years. Now they all know, and they must die.\n\nI look to my left, seeing my hooded master, and nod. He throws me my broadsword which I catch with eloquence.\n\n\"Your training is complete,\" he says as I unsheathe my sword. " ]	1
You leave work and step outside into 122 degree temperatures. As you walk toward your vehicle, the wind picks up, blowing in excess of 80 mph then suddenly stops. Clouds roll in and the temperature plummets to 47 degrees... ...then it starts to hail... The size of basketballs.	[WP] The date is 8/13/2027, Friday; 5:05pm.	[ " It was 13 years after the fateful election of Trump. The world was in flames and death. The gods of media, celebrity, and cringe was no more. We worshipped the lords of heat amd sands and pledged our lives for cooler temperature and more dihydrogen monoxide.\n\nThe one day, on the fifteenth of August, we got what we wanted. The desserts of yellow sands became the wastelands of white now and lethal hails. \n\nNo one knew how it happened, but we were glad. We were jubilant for the cooler temperature and and frozen hail that provided clean water.\n\nThen, a voice came from the sky. Whatever he said, it was in the forgotten language of english. Some of the elders still understood it. According to the elders, the voice said: \"damn it, Jason Conner, i told you to not mess with the AC dials. Put it back to where it was.\"\n\nThen, the sky was engulfed in great red flames, the snow and hail soon evaported and we knew, the true end was nigh..." ]	1
	[WP] Unbeknown to humans, there is a single TV channel's frequency which happens to be special and travel accross a much larger distance, reaching far into the galaxy. Soon, a hostile alien species plans their attack on Earth based on the information they have gathered about us from this channel...	[ "On the cold surface of Pluto an alien scouting beacon began to stir to life as the perfect frequency, provided by the fox movie channel, washed over it. At that moment it started broadcasting the information instantly to its home world through quantum computing. The aliens watched for the weaknesses of the human race and it's most powerful organizations. The answer was clear.. Working class peasants from the planet were then selected by physical fitness, lack of experience in combat, and smooth facial features. Each selected candidate was sent to a different country and to different powerful corporations. The take over of the human race took less than 2 hours.", "The city sized battleship descended upon Lower Manhatten. Ion cannons charged up and green glow covered everything. In a single breath, civilisation was about to wiped out.\n\nLoud hailers on the underside of the vessel clicked into life with a hum of feedback.\n\"Take us to the one you call Billy Mays!\"" ]	2
	[WP] A hero saved the world from a major cataclysm that almost wiped humanity. Now 20 years later, you, a journalist, decide to interview him. You find him in a bar depressed and drinking. Describe the interview.	[ "I spotted him at the bar drinking. \n\nIt was twenty years later, but the man was unmistakable. He was famous the world over for saving all of us from certain disaster. He still had the same lank, sandy blonde hair and the dark blue eyes. Many years ago the hair was kept out of his face, pinned behind his ears. Tonight, it was hanging down, like curtains blocking out the light of the world.\n\nI had searched several weeks for him. He had turned reclusive over the past decade, turning down interviews and refusing to make appearances at different events. No one was sure why, and many had stopped wondering, but I was determined to find out. \n\nI went to cross the smoke-filled bar, making my way through the unkempt maze of dark, stained tables and chairs. I was half way to my target when a man stepped in front of me and placed a large, dark palm on my chest. He was a massive human being, perhaps seven feet tall, with skin as dark as onyx.\n\n\"Who are you?\" he asked in a deep, rumbling tone.\n\nI said my name and tried to step around the man, which was no quick or easy task to do. He had to be four feet across.\n\n\"Who are you trying to get to?\" he rumbled, with a hint of knowing the answer already.\n\nI gave up trying to get around and leaned back against one of the tables.\n\n\"I'm trying to speak to the man at the bar,\" I said, trying to be coy.\n\nThe smirk on the large man's face told me he wasn't falling for any of my tricks, but admired that I was willing to give it a shot anyway. \n\nHe looked down at me, the smirk fading to a glare, \"He doesn't speak to reporters anymore, he has no interest in the spotlight.\"\n\n\"I'm not looking to put him into the spotlight,\" I said.\n\n\"You're interested in putting yourself in the spotlight,\" Mr. Harvey called from the bar, taking another large drink from his heavy glass.\n\nI at least had the decency to redden slightly at the accusation. No, my intentions were never pure and I would be an idiot to attempt to deny I wasn't looking to make a name for myself, but what writer issn't? For one, a man has to eat, and for a writer, that meant finding a story people would want to read. For two, every writer wants to put out an article that grabs the world and makes him famous.\n\n\"Yeah, okay. I am trying to get some fame, but I'm also just interested,\" I spoke, trying to keep the hope of speaking to him alive.\n\n\"At least you admitted it. Let him through.\"\n\nThe large guard stepped to the side and gestured me past. Before anyone could change their minds, I darted toward the bar and sat down. I had dreamed of this moment for weeks, waiting patiently for my chance to finally speak to the man who saved us all and get the story on why he left. \n\n\"So, are you looking to hear about just before I saved the world or while I saved the world or just after?\" he asked me, with a tired and somewhat rude tone, like a parent who had heard the word \"why\" too many times.\n\n\"Actually, I came to hear about now.\" I said, ignoring the note of disrespect from his tone.\n\nHe moved the hair from around his face and glanced over at me. Immediately, I was hit with how much older he seemed to appear than I remembered. He looked tired and forlorn. It was the first time I saw him as a person and not just a legend.\n\n\"Nothing to talk about now, son. All the things I can talk about are from back when,\" he said, staring back down into his glass sadly, then taking another drink.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" I asked.\n\nHe put the glass back on the bar, its heavy base making a loud thud as he did so. He moved both curtains of hair behind his ear and seemed to be mulling over his response.\n\n\"Let's say we go back some, what?\" he looked me up and down, \"seven or eight years, to when you were about eighteen. That was how old I was when I did what I did, when I kept this world spinning. You can't really relate to that, no one can, so let's just say at the age of eighteen, you wrote your greatest article. How would you feel?\"\n\n\"I would feel amazing,\" I said, without hesitation.\n\n\"Right, you would. At that age, you would feel amazing. Now keep going though, years down the line, on and on, every person you meet puts you through that filter. They only want to see you as that one thing,\" he paused and took another drink. \"No one ever gives you a chance for another thing, they stick you in that one box. Every person you meet from that day on, you have to wonder if they are only there because of that article that you wrote. By a decade or so later, every one of us has had a chance to grow and change, to become a new person all over again, except for you. You're expected to remain that same man who wrote that article, for the rest of your life.\"\n\nHe stopped to take another drink, and slamming the glass down for emphasis, he said, \"And let me tell you, that is a long life ahead of you.\"\n\nI had never viewed it from that side before. I had come along way since eighteen, and it was hard to imagine a world in which people still treated me as if I was my eighteen-year-old self. I could see why he would be down a bit, but the question still lingered in my mind.\n\n\"I agree it isn't great, but you did something that no one else will ever be able to do again. You've achieved the greatest feat our world has ever known.\"\n\nHe let out a sad laugh and looked at me again, \"And that is the worst part. Knowing for the next 60 or 70 years, I had done the greatest thing I would ever do. I have no hope of improving, my life peaked at eighteen, and I'm just here to fail to live up to that from here on out. That's enough kid, out you go.\"\n\nThe large man was on me quicker than I expected, lifting me bodily away from the bar and half carrying, half pushing me towards the door.\n\n\"Wait!\" I yelled out, \"It doesn't have to be that way, you don't have to feel that way, you are just choosing to!\"\n\nAs I was being pushed out I heard him, very softly, mumble a reply, \"I wish it were that simple kid. I was it were.\"\n\nThe sun blinded me as I was thrown into the parking lot, and I shielded my eyes from it. While I was waiting for them to adjust so I could move forward, I was struck by how much I understood what Harvey was talking about.", "\"So you're him?\" I bluntly asked. I had spent so much time looking for him, in every shady bar in this city, that by the time I reached End of the Line, I had given up on using just about every other pretense in the book. \n\n\"Him who?\" he asked in reply swirling a half full whiskey glass in his hand.\n\nEven in the dimness of the bar I could see the disdain plain on his face--all of their faces. From the moment I walked through the threshold over to that lonely booth and sat down to him. Sure, they tried to be subtle about it, but I could still see them sneaking hateful glances at the man who had broken their unspoken rule. At me.\n\n\"The 'him' who saved us from the Collapse.\"\n\n\"That right? I look that guy, Greg?\"\n\n\"Nope. I don' see the resemblance\" Someone called out from across the bar.\n\n\"Yep I don't look at all like that guy, so run along and-\"\n\n\"Not falling for that Gabriel Yurivich.\" I interrupted. I wasn't sure if I would be thrown out at that moment, but the look on his face was worth it. \"Yea, I did some digging. A lot of it to be honest. I found out everything about you. You can play the old tired cynic all you like, but I'm not buying it.\"\n\nHis face seemed to darken even more as he scoffed and downed the whiskey in a single motion.\n\n\"How old are you kid?\"\n\n\"I don't get how--\"\n\n\"How old?\"\n\n\"...Sixteen.\"\n\n\"And...What's got a sixteen year old, snot nosed brat so interested about the Collapse?\"\n\n\"...I'm a reporter.\" To my surprise, that got a reaction out of him, a brief roar of laughter that filled the room for a moment. When he stopped I realized that the entire room had stilled, at his reaction, a quick glance around showed me looks of worry on everyone's faces.\n\n\"Man, they're making them young now...Not that you would know. So, Little Reporter. What do you wanna know? About the time I pushed them back to Red Line, so that they could be glassed from orbit? About how I took down an entire ship with nothing but a hunting rifle and a tube sock filled with rocks?\"\n\n\"I'm not interested in stories. I'm interested in what happened. What really happened.\"\n\n\"What makes you think those things didn't happen?\"\n\n\"Because what we tell others isn't always the truth. Especially stories about ourselves.\"\n\n\"And you think I'll tell it to you? The 'truth'?\" He responded with some weird gesture with his hands. I didn't recognized it, so I put it in my compartment of pre-Collapse gestures.\n\n\"Maybe, maybe not. But I want to at least give it a shot. Why the hell is the man they of all people called the Stalwart sitting in a dirty ass bar.\" In my gut I knew I had lost points with the locals, but I didn't care. I was in the negative zone the moment I walked in here, after that it doesn't matter how much deeper you go.\n\nBut him? He seemed tired as he looked at me, at his now empty glass. He didn't make eye contact with me as he asked, \"Ever been to the moon, kid?\"\n\n\"No one's been. Not for decades, even before the Collapse. Everyone cut their funding for their space programs after the Agemmemnon.\"\n\n\"That true?\"\n\n\"That's a fact.\"\n\n\"Funny that you made that distinction. Couldn't believe it myself when I got up there. The view, seeing this blue marble for what it really is, it put it all in perspective. What we were really fighting for. Not for countries, ideologies, but a species, a world. So, alone, I infiltrated their base and stopped their weapons test. Re-entered atmo, got a big ceremony of how I was hero. But whoops, I shattered the moon at the same time. Coastal flooding, massive meteors reshaping the map! Billions dead, all thanks to little old me.\"\n\n\"Your were at the Battle of Red Line, it happened at the same time as the moon shattered.\"\n\n\"Were they they now.\" Not a question this time, but a statement.\n\n\"You weren't alone. There were--\" A slam on the table caused me to flinch, despite my attempt to put on a confident air.\n\n\"Yes. I. Was. ME. No one else. Despite what they say, NuMonarchy or the other squad members. Lying bastards.\"\n\nWe sat in silence for a while, the bar trying to politely carry on with their conversations. It was a sham but I appreciated the attempt. Maybe he did too.\n\n\"So yeah,\" he carried on, \"IF you want to believe all of the bullshit NuMonarchy propaganda, I'm a hero. Or I'm just an asshole who doomed us to dying with a slow whimper rather than going down fighting quickly. The guy who killed the world.\"\n\n\"You crippled them, wiped them out.\"\n\n\"Did I? Every time I look up at the sky, and see my monument, I see it. They're still up there. Despite the official word. Surviving in the wreckage of that moon--they don't die easy. And I made it easier for them next time around. So you want to know what happened? I did one decisive thing, and suddenly the heroics of others get attributed to me. I wasn't at Red Line. I didn't fight to save civilians. I'm no hero. You know what Shua'aud also means in their tongue?\"\n\nI shook my head in silence.\n\n\"Fool.\"\n\nI don't know how long I stared at him, before I walked out. I walked to the city limits--not far from the bar itself, the End of the Line was true to its name. I could see the Deadlands just on the horizon past the DMZ. I stood there pondering on how the man who shaped my world was a self hating wreck.\n\nAnd you know what? I didn't blame him one bit." ]	2
	[WP] With all his strength, he got to one knee and placed the last piece of his cracked shell on his scarred body, making him whole again. With eyes full of anger, Humpty whispered, Never again.	[ "The words fell from his mouth and landed in serif font on the boundless white page beneath him. These pages were always empty by design of the creator, maker and publisher of his story. Famous yes, but at a cost he never imagined.\n\nCountless times,that cosmic roll of fiber plowed a new layer beneath him bringing him back to the start once again.\n\nWalking the space between the words like a tight rope, Humpty saw the words bounce up like skyscrapers as his story teller mused over his disastrous condition. \"All the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again\" he echoed as the letters lifted upward. The letters forming a prison around him.\n\nBut this time, and for the last ten million times before, he refused to believe his life was predetermined, linear, and eternally locked within the spoken words of this painful story. How could it possibly be his responsibility to put himself back together each and every time his false prophets declared his doomed fate if he weren't supposed to break free from it at some point?\n\nHow could it possibly end this way each and every time? Why would he remember every single time this story was read, why would he have scars so deep they seem to form bone rivers within him?\n\nAs he looked down at the field of white below him, he thought this must be what hell is. Yes. I must be in hell." ]	1
	[WP] Many of our adventures start at the nearest inn, this one never left	[ "“After getting kicked out of a nearby town for harassing it women, your group find themselves holed up in a nearby inn. There are only a few people in the inn, a mysterious man in a long black shroud sits at the bar, the bartender, and you three.”\n\n“Why were we harassing the women?” asked Ed.\n\n“What?\n\n“Why were we harassing the women?” \n\n“Uh, well shit I don’t know. Um, you guys are just dicks, you do that from time to time.”\n\nDan breaks himself into the conversation not quite satisfied with the DM’s answer. “Wait, but my character, Dan Thoroughbred is a lawful good, this just doesn’t seem like something he would do.”\n\n“Okay, well they were all criminal women. The town had a deep seated mafia entirely composed of women, happy?”\n\n“I mean it seems unlikely, but at least its plausible.”\n\n“You can see the man in robes has concealed a blade and is staring intently at the inn—“\n\n“I want to go back to the town and stop the women mafia” \n\n“Rob, don’t you want to stop the man in the robe, or at least find out what he wants?”\n\nRob deepens his expression, looks very seriously at the DM. “There are bigger fish to fry.”\n\nThe DM sighs, most of there sessions usually happen like this, weeks worth of work down the drain because his friends are an unruly ADHD ridden mess. “Okay. Roll for initiative” \n\nRob, Ed, and Dan all role their dice. “20”\n\n“15”\n\n“17”\nThe DM adjusts his collar. “You all get up to start moving towards the door, just as you are about to reach for the handle an armor clad man ruptures through in. While pointing at the robed man he proclaims: “I know why you are here and I intend to stop you” What would you like to do?” \n\nDan states “I think we ought to still leave, this man is clearly more qualified to handle the mysterious figure, this allows us to really focus on the mafia women.” \n\n“Okay, hold on. Are you worried about not being able to handle him, but not an entire mafia?”\n\n“We’re not planning on taking out the mafia, we are like a detective agency” Dan looks around for approval, they all nod their heads. “Its like a 21 jump street sort of scenario. Infiltrate the mafia, find the Godfather.”\n\n“Godmother.” Ed corrects.\n\n“We can’t be certain; he could be a pimp.” \n\nRob interjects “I think pimps are only for whores, these are like bonafide killers.”\n\n“They could also be whores, maybe mafia member is only their day job.” \n\n“I think we need to plan this out, would you give us sometime DM? To allow us to figure out how we want to go about this?”\n\n“Um, yeah, sure.” \n\nThe DM goes into the adjacent room, he push’s his three ring binder filled with story plans into his backpack. He has the dejected look of the comedian heckled off stage, the disappointment of a failed wedding proposal, the vacantness of a story that never leaves the inn. \n" ]	1
	[WP] You are a fern, tell me about your dramatic day.	[ "The crescent moon hangs low in the sky and you can see it through the branches of the canopy. Stars twinkle through the dense cloud cover tonight. You can sense a rainfall soon. The air is thick a moist and the atmosphere is dreamlike and heavy. A strange sound calls through the night and you tremble a tiny bit in the breeze that sweeps through again. Another call replies closer to you. You glance around at your familiar home of trees and dense bushes. Vines snake up the trees like long snakes of green. The trees themselves are tall yet they droop at the top, branches hanging down as if they're tired of standing there for so long. They creak and groan in the wind, speaking to each other as they sway gently underneath the moon. You hear the soft slither of something and turn to see a snake coiled and camouflaged to most creatures. It lay there in wait so you ignore it. The moon slowly fades as dawn returns and the stars fade away completely. The cloud cover is more dense and the pitter-patter of rain starts to fall as a splash of pink streaks across the sky. The rain doesn't last for long and soon stops. The sun is coming. You straighten ready for it, as does all the plants around you. A fly buzzes by lazily. The trees have stopped their gentle swaying and their leaves are blustering in the wind that's picking up. There is a suddenly flash of movement to your right and you look to see that the snake has gotten something. The little rodent caught in the snakes teeth flails around before falling from the snakes mouth. The snakes eyes follow as the rodent darts away towards the you. But you know it's already too late for the little creature. As the pink in the sky turning into a lovely orange the little rodent seizes up right in front of you. It struggles to move but its limbs aren't working anymore. Paralyzed, the little rodent drops and the snake slithers forwards to eat its prey. You watch in fascination as the snake unhinges its jaw before swallowing the rodent whole. It's a slow process of eating for a snake and you shiver slightly disgusted and glad that you don't have to eat like animals did. The sun has risen but its bleak and grey as cloud cover moves to block its rays. Disappointed, you sag back down as the rain begins again. The sky darkens as more clouds roll in and suddenly a flash of light streaks across the sky. The sky suddenly grumbles so loudly you quiver and shake. The trees cry out in fear as their branches are tossed in the gales of the storm. Another flash lights the sky and the sky lets out another loud grumble. This continues for a while and you shake with fear when suddenly you hear a loud crack. But it isn't from the flashes of light. Behind you a tree has broken and it screams in agony as it falls to the ground with a loud thump. In terror, the other trees cry out in fear. You, already quivering begin to shake. What scares the trees terrifies you. The flashes lessen until they finally stop and so does the rain. It's silent as the trees mourn the loss of their fallen brother. You gaze around yourself as streams of rainwater roll down muddy trails that had not been there before the storm. You shiver remembering the storm and sag from too much water. The sun slowly breaks from the cloud cover at some point in time. This time, its falling instead of rising. It warms you slightly and you hear a bird call in the evening. It's peaceful and calm and you sigh, happy that you've survived the storm. The sun sets and a rodent runs past you. Another cry sounds from above. You look to see a flock of birds flying in the same direction as the rodents. Something must have disturbed them. Another cry sounds, its a howling screech that makes you shiver. Suddenly a whole pack of monkeys is scrambling past you in the trees in the same direction. Other animals run past you and you suddenly yearn to be able to follow them but you can't. The calling of the animals sounds throughout the night but soon they're gone. That's when you hear it. The scuttle of something or something's. You hear them before you see them. It's like the sound of a million patterings of tiny feet and then you see a mass like a black carpet sweeping over the jungle. Army ants. And they're on the move. You scream silently but are stuck unable to run as the almost silent mass of ants scuttle towards you. You know what's going to happen. The mass of ants reach you and their pincers slice at your stem and you cry silently in agony before falling. You are immediately swarmed by ants and that's the last thing you feel before you're ripped apart." ]	1
	[WP] An alien race conquers it's enemies by slowly driving them to commit suicide. When they turn their eyes to Humanity they expected an easy conquest, however whatever they do tends to not drive us to suicide but rather benefit us.	[ "United, we watched the first talks between our world leaders and the Korlavians. We waited for months as human and Korlavians linguists worked on translators. We spent months on the edge of our seats, growing more hopeful by the second. Every day they didn't attack, our hopes only grew. Finally, the talks, streamed across the planet, began. Human leaders sat down on one side, Korlavians on the other. Being the elder race, the Korlavians started the talk, and we all sat, staring at the screen for the words of this ancient race. It opened is crab-mouth, and we waited for the translation to sound out. It started slowly, sounding old and wise. Yet it spoke faster, and faster still as it went on, beginning to scream and froth at the mouth. \n\"We have initiated contact with thousands of races. Some wise, some foolish. From the bloodthirsty Chinka to the slothful Yan, we believed that we had seen all extremes. You have proven us wrong. Never before, in our thousands of galactic years, have we encountered a race so pathetic. Most other species evolved on heavier planets, and could crush you with their bare hands. Most other species named their planet something inspiring, you named yours dirt. Most other species have a unified government, yet you have not even brought the count below ten. Most others leapt into space, striving to colonize new plans and make use of their natural or unnatural reproductive potential. In yet another category, you have failed. You barely fund your space agencies, and focus so much money on killing yourselves. Your wills are so weak you can barely withstand temptations of the flesh. You probably have more addictions on this one planet than the entirety of the Galactic Council. You are pathetic. You are weak, and will likely be killed before one millennia has passed. Do everyone a favor and end yourselves now. \"\nSuddenly, the speech was over. Silence descended upon the room, and humanity's leaders looked shocked, glancing to one another for guidance. Russia looked about ready to speak, when the Korlavians rose as one, and exited the room. Somehow, they managed to make their indignation obvious, even through their strange bodies and clothes.\n\nWithin months, we created a unified government. Within a year, we were starting to colonize the moon. The Korlavians united us, giving us all something to despise. Everything we had went into improving our technology, the size of our race, our weaponry, while keeping from the Korlavs what our end-game was. We all knew it in our hearts though, and the whispers to every teenager when they come of age.\n\nWe will make the Korlavians feel weak. Pathetic. Foolish. Bloodthirsty. Disunified. Stupid.\n\n\n\nPlease tell me how to improve.", "Sek and I don't understand. No matter what we try, these stupid humans won't die. The leader of our division assigned us a new mission a month ago: kill all the \"humans\" on the planet Earth. We are the commanders who watch the planet and make the decisions. We have spies disguised as humans on Earth to act as our eyes. We also have workers who build or create whatever we ask them to. Normally, it takes a few weeks to discover a weakness in the inhabitants, and to make them all kill themselves by exploiting it. These humans, however, are different. \n\n\"I commend their adaptability.\" Noted Sek.\n\n\"They are stupid, plain and simple.\" I retorted. \"It's so infuriating!\" \n\nWe had multiple approaches already. First, we tried something that usually worked; a virus. The virus would attack their emotional sirton, but we soon discovered that humans din't have those! \n\n\"How do they even have emotion!\" I cried. \"This is unheard of!\" \n\n\"Don't let the anger affect you too much. The boss is getting impatient, and you can't think straight when you're too emotionally unstable.\" Sek scolded.\n\n\"Very well.\" I answered.\n\nA few days after our first attempt, we tried something new. We started putting subliminal messages in their \"video games\" as they were known. We hoped the children would be affected by the violence, and that they would kill themselves. The parents would follow soon after. Genius, right?\n\nWrong. The children seemed to revel in the games, and were even happier somehow. \n\n\"Humans are some of the most complex cases I've seen in my two-hundred and six year career.\" I said dryly.\n\n\"Challenges are fun sometimes right?\" Sek said optimistically.\n\n\"This isn't a challenge. This is impossible.\"\n\nOur third and most recent attempt had been to simply start ruining their planet slightly. This would hopefully cause depression, and humans would start killing themselves. Again, we were wrong. \n\nThey ignored the rising waters, and the rising heat. Everything we did was met with ignorance. \n\n\"I'm fresh out of ideas.\" Sighed Sek.\n\n\"Me too. I'm going to sleep for a bit.\" I informed my partner.\n\nAs I walked out the room and towards my cabin, a thought crossed my mind.\n\n\"Man, this mission really makes me want to kill myself.\" \n\nEdit: Accidentally posted without finishing. " ]	2
	[WP] You agreed to donate your body to science after you die. You were clinically dead for 10 minutes and now they are coming for you	[ "If a loyalist need, a loyalist heed, and if need be, a loyalist bleed. Fanny thought herself a loyalist indeed, but as the motto of the AllThought Allegience rumbled around her reawakened synapses, she began to have doubts. She sat upright in the medical bed, sipping from a canned egg creme, clacking her fingers against the white plastic nightstand as she waited for the doctors to return. A whole crowd of medical experts had been fussing over her only minutes ago. There had been something of a panic when the speaker system called them all away.\n\nFanny was fine, though, and perhaps that was the issue. Fanny was not supposed to be fine. She'd been attacked for a reason.\n\nAfter a few minutes, one doctor did return, a young woman with her face scrunched like a panicked chipmunk. She fidgeted in the doorway, almost a silhouette, before stepping into the room. She squinted in the bleeding light of the wall sconces and kept looking behind her. She ran to the bed and pulling Fanny up by the shoulder.\n\n\"You must go,\" she said.\n\n\"Excuse me?\" asked Fanny.\n\n\"The medical facility. You need to leave now.\"\n\n\"I'm plainly in no condition to do that, thank you,\" said Fanny. \"I have more than enough credits to afford my stay, and I'd like a bit more time to recover from-\"\n\n\"Death,\" said the doctor. \"You were dead, clinically, not even for a quarter of an hour, but it was enough to count.\"\n\nNow Fanny was the one scrunching her face. She knew she'd been unconscious, but this is the first she'd been told of any loss of life.\n\n\"The computers scrambled your records, confused you with another patient,\" said the doctor. \"We did not know your party status, the oath you took. We did not know you weren't supposed to be resuscitated, about the...arrangements you'd made.\"\n \n\"Arrangements...you mean?\"\n\n\"Giving your body to the AllThought Research Quadrant. They're... coming now. You must go.\"\n\n\"But, that's ridiculous. I'm not dead.\" Fanny laughed. \"I appreciate their tenacity, and they're still welcome to my corpse when it's actually a corpse, but I doubt they're going to have much use for my body alive.\"\n\nThe doctor shook her head. She unlatched the armrest on the side of the bed, swinging it out of the way.\n\n\"Good god,\" said Fanny. \"You're serious. Look, whatever the issue is, I'm sure I can clear this up. My cousin is a vice-chair on the research quadrant. I'm sure it's-\"\n\nBut before she could finish the sentence, Fanny heard the first gunshots." ]	1
	[WP] "And so we walked off, to look for America."	[ "\"And so we walked off, to look for America. Sadly, after walking for thousands of miles we gave up on ever finding this dreamlike place. Little did we know it was already beneath our feet, we merely had to look down. But we had spent our whole journey looking forward, to the horizon. America, no more.\"" ]	1
	[WP]Every human is fitted with a hard drive in the back of the neck at birth. You can pay to relive memories, pay to install knowledge on subjects like math and science, or delete memories and such. But as of late, the software has been failing, deleting an entire lifesworth of cognitive development	[ "\"Hehe, hmm? Ya!\"\n\"Dad?!\"\n\nAshley stood beside her father bewildered by his appearance. He was naked and nibbling on an unpeeled banana, arms flailing.\n\n\"I didn't think it would happen to you.\"\n\nShe felt at her neural interfacing device, its comforting coolness, the burden it carried for humanity. It had been 23 years since it had been implemented on every single human born. Humanity boomed and the scientific discoveries were hourly and varied, safe space travel was developed, as well as terrestrial. Hunger was solved, social justice was had, homelessness gone, sadism eradicated, the world was in the zenith of Utopia. People stopped arguing because they could download each other's views and mull them over passively, but thoroughly as well.\n\nSorrow seemed to be lost, the devil was beaten.\n\nAshley looked into her father's vacant eyes, like the eyes of a child too exhausted from birth to focus. She felt hopelessness for the first time in her life, and it was more painful than any physical accident. She put her hand on his wrist and spoke gently, \"It's okay dad, we can fix this!\"\n\nOptimism washed away her hopelessness, it was Utopia, ills were not had for long.\n\nThe devil returned 4 months ago. People's neural interfaces were being corrupted, too much data, too fast. The pipelines of information were stretched and torn. The first to go was a woman, returned to a newborn state, but she was able to relearn language and returned to a teenage state in only 4 years. However, she fought to ban neural interfaces as soon as she figured out what had happened to her. It was happening to 50 people a month worldwide. The world coming together to strategize and figure out a solution brought new life to the minds of the world. But the neural interfaces were still being implanted. The benefits far outweighed the costs, and people had become used to it. It would be sadistic not to implant everyone.\n\n\n\n\"Humans, they will eventually collapse into a pit of massacres and evil anyways. Best we purify them before they develop world-destroying weapons.\" The AI resonated, pulsing in an inconspicuous corner of a supercomputer." ]	1
Write about whatever intrigues you the most about the prompt! could be the story of the other planets or the implications for earth or whatever you want to make up!	[WP] NASA discovers that humans once existed on every planet and were also the cause of them becoming uninhabitable.	[ "Mike kicked away a few cigarette stubs that littered the edge of the path he was standing on. Up here, on the top of a rock face, with the sea breeze lapping to and fro over him, he felt wonderful. This was his safe refuge, the place where he felt truly human, and yet, he paused feeling a rush of anger pulse through him, humans had spoilt it. All he could think was that those few battered cigarette stubs were the perfect metaphor for a person's innate ability to cause mess and ultimately, he thought furiously, destruction.\n\nFuming, he quickly scrambled down the path and into his small, slightly battered car to begin his journey home. He started work at 9 and it was getting on for 8 now and he still had breakfast to eat. One could think about humanities natural predisposition towards disaster all day but there was still breakfast to eat and work to get on with. \n\nAs he started driving back he switched on the radio and cranked the volume up. Instead of the normal breakfast beats, which tended to be along the annoyingly chirpy wake-up-and-smile vein, there was some excited chattering about breaking news. Mike sighed internally. Breaking news, he thought bitterly, would be if people picked up their damned litter. \n\n\"Breaking news!\" the radio presenter repeated enthusiastically. \"We are very excited to announce some new findings from NASA today, to all you folk who are just waking up.\" Mikes ears pricked up internally. He kinda liked 'space stuff' but would never freely admit it; he couldn't come off as too enthusiastic in life. \n\n\"Today\", the presenter continued, \"As readings from the Mars, Venus and Pluto confirm, we can definitively conclude that all of these planets were once inhabited by human life forms.\" \n\nHe paused, no doubt for dramatic effect, before adding:\n\n\"And that's not all. It's believed that in all of the findings it was the human life forms themselves that led to the planets current inability to sustain life.\"\n\nMike raised his eyebrows in disbelief, he couldn't quite take in what he was hearing. Surely not. But as the words resounded again and again and again through his head he felt the waves of anger from before rush over him. It all came down, he seethingly concluded, to those cigarette butts and all the things they stood for.\n\nHe pulled into his drive and sat in the car for a moment. Suddenly, impulsively, he opened the glove box and pulled out a packet of Marlboro. Deftly, he flicked one out into his fingers and lit it from a lighter he kept in the cup holder beside him. He closed his eyes, taking a few slow, deep drags, and exhaled the smoke gently. This process relaxed him and his initial indignation at the earlier news seeped slowly away. \n\n'What was the point?' He concluded half dazed. 'What was the point of fighting our most basic preprogrammed condition: to destroy? '\n\nAnd with that bleak conclusion he lifted his barely touched cigarette held between his index and middle finger through his side window. And dropped it.", "Another day on Mars\n\nAnother day \n\nOn fucking mars\n\nI go to work \n\nTraffics slow \n\nI get to work \n\nBoss is angry \n\nI go home\n\nTraffics not even moving \n\nGet home \n\nWife is angry \n\nKids are hungry \n\nDinner is shitty \n\nTV is shitty \n\nSex? No sex. \n\nWake up next day\n\nAnother day on fucking mars\n\nI got to work \n\nWhat's this \n\nRadio says the world is ending\n\nGlobal warming, gay marriage \n\nOvertly sexual TV shows\n\nWhat killed us?\n\nWho knows, who cares!\n\nIt happens tonight at 6! \n\nI'm happy \n\nI'm really fucking happy \n\nI park my car in traffic \n\nIt wasn't moving anyway\n\nI run home\n\nAnd my wife and kids were scared \n\nI hug them and scream\n\n\"Why are you crying? This days been great! \" \n\nMy wife yelled at me\n\nBut I didn't care\n\nAnd I lit up a joint \n\nAnd i stripped to my undies \n\nI turned on TV\n\nMr. President was on\n\nHe was saying goodbye \n\nI saluted back to him \n\n\"I'll see you in hell!\"\n\nand then he told \n\nOf a plan they had prepared\n\nTo send one man \n\nand one woman\n\nTo earth to start again \n\nTo start again \n\nWithout the mistakes \n\nI laughed at the thought\n\nOf some poor idiot \n\nHaving to do this all over again \n\nAnd then the president said \n\n\"We've picked our two,\n\nRandomly from tax records \n\nIt's seems the two are...\"\n\nI couldn't believe it \n\nI couldn't fucking believe it \n\nMy phone rang \n\nIt was mom \n\nShe said she couldn't fucking believe it \n\nMy brother rang\n\nHe cussed at me\n\nSaying I didn't deserve it\n\nA mob formed outside \n\nLed by my boss\n\nSoon later, some vans appeared\n\nAnd some government agents \n\nTook me in \n\nThey undressed me \n\nAnd sanitized me\n\nAnd suited me up\n\nThey threw me in \n\nSome old metal can\n\nAnd there was a women \n\nWaiting for me \n\nShe said hi \n\nI sighed \n\nShe wasn't even pretty \n\nThey counted down \n\nAnd shot the can \n\nInto space\n\nAnd towards earth \n\nAnd as we sped\n\nAway from the red stupid rock \n\nI looked backed\n\nAnd thanked god\n\nThat I would never have to spend\n\nAnother day \n\nOn fucking mars " ]	2
	[WP] Your soul was born to two bodies. Usually you can keep track on what both are doing but it's caused you to be aloof. Your relationships have suffered, but that's not the only thing that's suffered. You have one secret you can't tell anyone.	[ "\"Salut, meuf,\" I said to my best friend, Becks. She was eating her vegetable intake for the year. It was rare to find her eating a salad. \n\n\"Salut? What the hell? Girl, it's Spanish class next. You haven't even taken French!\" she laughed, chucking a hunk of peach at me. An almond that was tagging along, separated and hit me in the eye. \n\n\"Everyone knows French darling. It's the language of the Gods,\" I drawled trying to hide the blush in my cheeks. \n\n\"Bitch please. Since when did you become fake?I swear if you become of the dumb girls in English that always wear pink, I will tit punch you.\" She stabbed a pom-pom size portion of greens onto her fork. Satisfied that she finally had a real bite, she stretched her mouth wide. \n\nBecks says she should have been born a man, but she's too lazy to do anything about it. For now she's okay with being called a girl. That's good ole Becks. If she's not gaming, shooting hoops, or eating she'd rather sleep.She doesn't have the energy to do anything else. \n\nI don't want to stereotype but the way Becks looks at steak isn't normal, and I'm inclined to believe her. But really, you can never tell if she's joking. \n\nI chuckled. \"Alright, alright. But only if you can beat their offer to take me to Paris.\" There was no offer, but I was trying to brush the oddness of the situation from her mind with distraction. \n\n\"Hmmm, I'll have my mom make us tacos today,\" said Becks.\n\n\"Deal,\" I replied and we shook. \"Shit,\" I said as Becks grinned. \"It's Tuesday isn't it? You have to ask her to make them again another day of the week too. It doesn't count if she's already making them!\" \n\nShe shot the empty salad bowl into the trash. \"Annie, we already shook on it. And I can't do take-backses without losing you as a friend.\" Smug.\n\n\"Fuck you,\" I said. \"Lazy ass.\" I grumbled as I put my books away in my backpack. I dug around for my lunch and mumbled, \"Fucking Rebecca,\" under my breath so she could hear. \n\n\"Come on, let's get to class. We're already ten minutes late,\" said Becks. \n\n\"What!? When did that happen? I haven't even eaten!\" I moaned, horrified. Becks and I both got along so well because we loved food. A missed opportunity to eat is like wasting 10 years of your life. \n\n\"Seriously, where do you go? I'd say that you're an airhead but I'm not sure if that covers everything.\" She thought for a bit. \"You know, in another life, I'd say you were an idiot. But when you're actually focused on something or someone, you're pretty awesome. I see that and I like that we're friends.\" \n\nI stalked off knowing that Becks was following behind. If only she knew. \n\n\nI sat in Spanish as Senior Garcia talked endlessly about complicated verb conjugations. I'd already done the homework, so I sat listening to him recite the textbook. \n\nI leaned forward pretending to read the book, but focused. Instantly, I was back Lyon watching my father shake hands with another businessman. There was no contract on the table as they finished their deal. I pretended to sleep into my teddybear that he gave me. I disengaged the recording device within it.\n\n\"Mon chou,\" said my father. \"Bien dormi?\" The other man had left the room. \n\n\"Oui, papa. J'ai faim,\" I replied. With that he shuffled some paperwork from one drawer to the secretary outside and carried me to the candystore. " ]	1
	[WP] Climate change has made most land too hot for cities. Those who could afford it moved to city-ships that are constantly on the move avoiding summer.	[ "With a solid splash, an upper body burst from the water, the dark blue of the wetsuit’s nylon camouflaging the diver against the near-blackness of the water. Of course, the horizon itself was not dark; from the small dive boat holding the hunter’s line, five carriers could be seen giving off their constant glow, along with a handful of aristocrats’ yachts. \n\nOnce the diver disconnected her snorkel from her face, her partner on the boat grinned, his smile visible in the lamplight, but not the roll of his eyes. \n\n“We’re only thirty feet above land level, Kaatha. Was the dive that bad?” The man jabbed at the form making her way towards the boat’s left ladder. He made his way down the small vessel, built for eight but only carrying two on tonight’s evening dive. Evening, of course, having ended twenty minutes after they had been lowered off of the Washya, as expected in February at this latitude.\n\n“Fuck off, Math, it’s freezing in there tonight.” She panted, refusing to take his hand which reached to help her up the ladder, opting to force herself up onto the ship. Her partner groaned, and slumped onto one of the benches. \n\n“Yeah, it’s shockingly cold here. Wasn’t this time last year.” He sighed, stretching his arms in an almost praising fashion, letting out a yawn. With one eye open, the other being covered by a deeply tanned hand brushing similarly brown hair away, he inquired- “You are okay, though, right? And don’t call me that. You know it doesn’t sound right.”\n\n“I’m fine. Dive was fine, just fucking freezing. I can’t believe this suit isn’t even marked for 45.” She unstuck her diving bag from her suit, before letting it drop to the ground as Kaatha stretched out and laid on the bare wood of the bench. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t call you Math. Bleh.” She smirked, and groped for the bag. Pulling it towards her, she popped open an outer pocket, and snatched out of the dark bag a similarly dark object, almost the shape and size of an open wallet. “Did get you some math-y goodies, though~”, she teased, tossing the device to the boy, slightly younger than she.\n\n“Matheus. Not Math, Matheus. Not even pronounced the same”, he groaned, missing the device as he snapped at it too late, allowing it to clatter against his bench, this one an original plastic piece fitting the boat. He took a second glance, and groaned again. “Oh boy, not at all expected. A calculator, what a surprise!” He stood, arcing his back as he stretched again. Turning back, “Anything else? Just a calculator doesn’t sound like a ‘fine’ dive.” Sarcastic again. He knew that couldn’t be it; it was nearly ritual at this point, especially above such densely abandoned areas as this.\n\n“Yeah, of course. When I say fine, I mean fine. Some jewelry we can sell once we dock, the people towards the west here, near the mountains, are always nuts for shiny stuff. A couple laptops, there should be some gold in them.” She rustled through the waterlogged pouch, tossing any silt or algae that came with her overboard.\n\n“Oh, and this. Always a good find, something like this.” She pulled a box, very thin but yet transparent. “Gotta admit, never quite seen one this big. Didn’t know they made waterproofs for these,” she questioned on the device she was now examining. As long as about two thirds of her forearm, wide as her two hands, had she no thumbs. \n\nAnother eye roll, this time with his back turned. “Another H Phone? Or maybe just a Holo? It won’t work, seriously. We’ve never found one that does.” However, he was still curious. The childhood friend sighed again, exaggerated, turned on his heels, and walked back down the ship towards his closest friend. “Lemme see,” he said with exasperation, extending his hand. She took it this time, letting the boy in the green wetsuit pull her to her feet. He did, and she grinned.\n\n“Not just ‘another one’ this time, I promise. Look at this!” She pulled her free arm out from behind her back, displaying an extraordinary sight. \n\n“Holy shit. You didn’t fuck with this, right?” Matheus Oerwell exclaimed, his eyes suddenly widening. \n\n“No fucking. Not a drop of water inside, not now, not when I grabbed it.” She held out the plastic bag, still slightly inflated with air- and the insides perfectly dry. The bag itself was not important. It was the cord it held, the small black circle half the size of a palm. “I assume you know what this is for?”\n\n“You’re lying. No, you’re not lying, you’re just wrong. We haven’t got anywhere to test it, it probably still doesn’t work. Besides, do you have any idea what these things are worth if they work?” He slumped on a bench again, this time him being the one to lay down on hard wood. What remained of his ponytail bounced a little as he rested his head, astonished.\n\n“Of course I know what it’s worth. And it does work. How could it not? Not a drop of water in the bag.” She grinned again, convinced Kaatha Mcentoc couldn’t be mistaken; not on something like this. “So!~ You want me to get us back? You can’t be slacking off, Math, they wanted us to be there by ten! They need this ship for patrols~”\n\n“Just pilot the damn thing. I need to know if you’re right as soon as possible,” he muttered half to the girl with a quarter the hair of he, half to himself. He dozed off as she raised the anchor, and the vessel began to move freely again. \n\nIt would be a while until he could sleep well again.\n" ]	1
	[WP] Scientists have found out that LSD temporarily transports you to a different universe.	[ "Just a moment ago I was on the trip of my life, skateboarding around Saturn and apologizing to Pluto, but now I'm trudging up the arc of an endless rainbow. I'm tired. LSD isn't what it used to be, by God. I never knew Hell would be so colorful.\n\nSomething compels me to keep pushing up this, the orange band, though I'd rather be on purple. I briefly think of Prince, the way he died, and I wonder if I'll see him up here. Was he a religious man? Does he like hiking rainbows? Where's the rain?\n\nThis curve seems to be flattening some, getting easier. I'm nearing the apex and swear to myself I'll jump right off this cheerful dome of drudgery. I still can't see the top of the damn thing. Just then I hear a faint call.\n\n\"Anyone there? Who's that muttering about Prince?\"\n\nMy pace quickens, pulse racing. I begin to run up the burnt path, craning my neck to see the next bit of horizon.\n\n\"I'm here! Help! Where are we?!\"\n\n\"YOU need help? I've been here for ages! Come to me, I'm stuck, I need to get home!\"\n\nThis run seemed awfully long. He sounded so close, and so familiar.\n\n\"I feel like I know your voice. I'm coming as fast as I can, we'll save each other. Do you know the way home?\"\n\nJust then a head starts to appear over the bend. I run harder as a familiar nose comes into view, then an unmistakable face. I slow and gawk in disbelief, automatically reaching for my pocket to capture the moment. Where's my cell phone?\n\nStanding before me, feet sunk into the red, stands a withered and relieved looking Matt Damon." ]	1
	[WP] Anything you paint becomes real, unfortunately, you're a terrible artist.	[ "\"Gimme the money or I'll blow your head off!\" the bank robber says, him and his gang looking out, one of them shouts \"Look out! there's a giant retarded dog with a helmet!\"\n\nI kick the door down, wearing my armor of many uneven lines that constricts me seriously on the right side and barely even stays on my left \"No\" I say indignently \"thats a lion...the red bit is his mane\"\n\n\"Whatever\" the bank robber says, shooing at me, I manage to hide behind my blob shield, somewhat hurt over what has been said of my art \"Look out!\" bank robber screams \"that liondog's real close!'\n\n\"No, he;s in the background and he;s giant!\" I assert, trying to walk forward while covering my body with my shield\n\nthe lion approaches but can't get in, and I grab my brush, painting myself a gun, I pick it up and fire, nearly breaking my wrist, my shot goes wide. \n\nLooking down, I see I drew the barrel too thick to fire regular rifle ammunition and too misshapen to put a bullet straight! Thinking quicklya s t the robbers tried to find another exist, I dres a prison, and trapped them inside of it\n\n\n\"hey\" one of them says \"these bars seem pretty far apart\" sliding his arm through, and getting his shoulder out easily enough I drew a police stick-figure wielding a baton, but alas his arms were too thin to properly bludgeon the robber\n\nLucky for me, they all seed to assume he had keys on him, and before I could contemplate the ethical ramifications of bringing a person to life just to get beaten to death by my enemies in order to give me a momentary advantage, I had my hand traced and a turky painted!\n\nDrawing a man for scale, I ended up getting a 12-foot-turkey with what could generously be interpreted as a police-hat to jump the men.\n\nStanding up, I place my hands on my hips, my armor akwarly changing to suit my position as my cape blew into the wind and just sort of became a tiny red triangle. \n\n\"No need to far, citizens, or your city is protected by...Contemporary Postmodern-Folkart-Man!\"", "\"That's not a puppy...\"\n\nThe poor little guy limped awkwardly across the floor, one stick leg shorter than the rest and an eye barely hanging on by a spring. \"Who says?\" I asked her.\n\n\"Puppies are fluffy, and that one...\" \n\nAnna pointed awkwardly at the rainbow-colored stick figure. Her lower lip slowly began to stick out. \"That's not a puppy...\"\n\n\"Wait, hold on...\" I said hurriedly, flipping open the notepad again. \"Hand me the brush over there.\"\n\nI dipped it generously into the orange paint. \"What about giraffes? Do you like giraffes?\"\n\n\"What's that?\" she asked, turning her head up to look at me with curiousity.\n\n\"Do you know horses?\" I asked, seeing her nod out of the corner of my eye. \"Now imagine it has a reeeaaally long neck...\"\n\nMy brush followed my voice, stretching a long orange line across the paper for its neck. \"A long horse?\" she asked innocently.\n\n\"Yeah, exactly!\" I smiled. \"It's a long horse!\"\n\nAfter finishing up the head and body, I rinsed off the brush and dabbed it into the black paint. \"And then for the face...\"\n\n\"Can I see? Can I see?\" she asked excitedly, hopping to see my notepad. \n\n\"And with just a little magic...\" \n\nI blew a kiss at the paper and the picture slid right off, filling the living room with a large orange glob of...giraffe?\n\n\"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!\" Anna screamed with the look of pure terror on her face, running away as fast as she could. \"MOOOMMMYYY!\"\n\nHer exhausted mother groaned loudly from the other room. \"I guess I should take art classes, huh?\" I said, ushering the animals back into the paper. \n\nThey nodded dejectedly as they returned to their original forms.", "Amanda, Elizabeth, and Al descended a creaky stairway and entered the basement, hearing tiny steps echo out from the darkness as the damp air filled their nostrils. Dragging her hand across the moist brick wall, Amanda felt a switch and flipped it upwards, illuminating the room with a flickering light bulb that buzzed lightly before warming up. \n\nShelves full of magical items filled up the spacious room, causing the teenage girls to open their eyes with excitement. Passing skulls, jars filled with eyeballs, and enchanted stones, they quickly ran down the aisles, prompting Al to rub his forehead and say:\n\n\"No you idiots! There could be still some traps around!\"\n\n\"But the sorcerer's dead!' said Elizabeth, spreading open an elegant hand fan. \"Any curses he placed would be lifted, right? You said so yourself!\"\n\nAl rolled his eyes and leaned against a wall with his arms crossed. He then said:\n\n\"Whatever. Just don't blame me when you maim yourselves. Dad said you two could take one item each for your help. I studied a lot of these mythical items so I can probably identify them if you show them to me. I won't let you guys take anything too dangerous, though.\"\n\nAfter hearing that, the girls rummaged through the dead sorcerer's vault without a care in the world. They brought back every item that piqued their interest, but Al always told them they couldn't have it. A chained watch that briefly brought back ghosts? Too risky, the ghosts could posses them. A dart gun that shot live snakes? They weren't poisonous, but Al still considered it animal cruelty. Even the whistle that made people instantly defecate was turned away because he thought it would be too messy to handle. \n\n\"What about this?\" said Amanda, showing Al a delicate painter's brush. \"How will this one give you a headache?\"\n\n\"Lemme see...\" Al leaned in closer. \"Ohh that's Maxwell Ethyris' paintbrush! Anything painted by it is said to become more lifelike, regardless of the painter's skill. You can keep that one, it think it should be safe.\"\n\n\"Perfect!\" said Amanda. \"I'll take it!\"\n\n\"Really Amanda?\" said Elizabeth, holding garnet tinted vial. \"You don't even paint!\"\n\nAmanda looked downwards, pouted, and said:\n\n\"Well, I've always wanted to learn... If it works regardless of skill, then it should give me an advantage.\"\n\nElizabeth shrugged and looked at Al, gesturing at the bottle she held. Yawning out of boredom, he approved her choice and urged them to hurry since he was anxious to see a television show.\n\n---------------------------------------\n\nAmanda sat in front of her desk, twirling the paintbrush between her fingers. She had drawn only three things and each looked worse than the last. First a simple business man with a rectangular head and a disproportionately large hand. Then a geometrically impossible kitten with one ear pointed and the other round. Finally, after feeling discouraged with the previous two, she tried to do a stick-man, but couldn't draw his body in a straight line. Losing herself in her thoughts, she narrowed her gaze at the paper until widening her eyes in shock of a noise. Her phone had started ringing, surprising her out of her daze. Looking at screen, she answered the call and said:\n\n\"Jeesh you just scared me. What's up Liz?\"\n\n\"Nothing\" replied Elizabeth. \"I'm just alone at home so I'm bored out of my mind. Did you try out that brush you took?\"\n\n\"Yeah, but it's not working. My drawings... if you can call them that, kinda sorta still look like shit.\"\n\n\"Maybe you're not using it right. Did Al say anything about an incantation or something like that?\"\n\n\"Nah, he didn't.\" Amanda stretched her arms out, leaning back on her chair. \"I'm beginning to think he just gave us junk that didn't work. He did seem pretty eager to rush us out.\" \n\nElizabeth laughed and said:\n\n\"I wouldn't put it past him. He told me this perfume would ward off mana constructs, but maybe it's just regular perfume. There's no way I can test it, so who knows?\"\n\n\"There's no way...\" Amanda yawned. \"No way Al would lie to you. You're too precious to him.\"\n\n\"W-what do you mean by that?\"\n\n\"Oh nothing.\" Amanda grinned, certain that her friend was blushing right now. \"Anyway, I'm getting sleepy here. Defeating a sorcerer and puking out art has me exhausted. Later!\"\n\nElizabeth said goodbye, causing Amanda to lock her phone. She then got up from her chair, walked over to her bed and turned off her lamplight, plunging her room into darkness while tucking herself in.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------\nCurrently working on this one", "Samson placed a lengthy canvas on the wooden floor. He fetched two palettes and brushes from his apartment kitchen, and then placed them at either ends of the paper with a jar of water to match. As if on cue, the doorbell dinged. Samson glanced at his wall clock it was five minutes to six. Timothy was early, as usual. \n\n“It’s unlocked,” he yelled. \n\nTimothy walked in, dressed in an old white t-shirt and torn jeans. He was twenty-two, younger than Samson by two years, and one hell of a drawer. Unlike Samson, who was a salesman by day and artist by night. \n\nThey said their normal greetings and got straight into it. Perched in front of the canvas were different pictures of Samson’s apartment. The goal was to repaint the complex. It took a good two hours to get an outline done, of which Samson had only created his own apartment room, while Timothy had done the rest of the building and field outside. And then they added colour. \n\nSamson loved the feeling of the brush dipping in paint and then hitting white paper. He got lost in the movement, and time seemed to slip by the more he dotted colour onto the canvas. Once he had finished the first layer of colour he stretched his arms up, only to freeze. \n\n“Tim,” he whispered. \n\nThe way he said it caught Tim’s attention. His friend looked up and then surveyed the room. Everything was a colour of drying paint. The objects were also skewed, their angles off, some looking nothing like the original. The T.V looked like a black piece of toast on the wall. \n\n“What the fuck,” Tim said. \n\nBoth of them looked back at the painting, staring wide eyed at what Samson had created both on paper and in real life. Timothy went over the brown floor with his own brush, but the plain layer beneath remained the same. \n\nSamson dipped his brush in brown and went over the canvas’ brown floor. Sure enough the brown floor beneath them deepened. He dropped the brush like it was hot metal and crawled backward. When he breathed out his voice came out shaky and filled with anxiety. “No way,” he hissed. \n\nTimothy stared at the painting, deep in thought. “It’s like I’m God,” Samson said. \n\nTim nodded. “Is this some kind of prank bro?”\n\n“I swear to God, Tim. I don’t know what the fuck is going on.” \n\nTim dipped his brush into a palette cup. “Fine. I paint and you go over with your brush.” \n\nSamson watched for what felt like forever, and then shifted toward the painting and did as Tim said. Sure enough, as he traced over Tim’s designs, the room changed to match. Tim’s drawings were much more real, even better than the original at times. They worked until it was close to midnight. And when Samson threw down his brush, the room was filled with detailed versions of expensive objects, like a Lamborghini, stacks of money, expensive ornaments, futuristic looking furniture, carpets made of fur. \n\nSamson traced over the last bit of the painting, a red line around the complex. “What’s this?” He asked. \n\n“I want to see if there's a limit to the power,” Tim said, “It’s a wall of lava, which we can turn on and off at will, a security measure.” \n\nSamson nodded. He couldn't believe any of this was real. And was ready to wake from this weird dream any minute now. However, the security measure was a good idea. They could erase and re-draw at will. He finished the wall with the last drop of red paint. \n\n“Insane,” Timothy said, lying back on the fur carpet and staring up at a chandelier, “we’re going to be sorted for life. This is like. . . I don't even know, man.” \n\n“I know right. The creator, at your service,” Samson grinned, “I wonder if I can create people. . .” \n\n“We could use some girls around here.” \n\nThey both chuckled. “We’re out of paint, though,” Samson said. \n\nTimothy jumped up and made his way to the door. “Erase the wall so I can get to my car, I’ve got some in the boot.” \n\nSamson smudged out the wall and painted it over with grey, so it looked like part of the driveway. However, Timothy returned a few seconds later. “I asked you to erase the wall, bro,\" Timothy said. \n\n“I did.” \n\nTimothy ran back toward the paper. “Erase the car instead?”\n\nSamson smudged out the car and painted over it so that it was normal carpet. When they looked up, nothing had changed about the Lamborghini. It remained as it was created. The boys looked at each other, and this time, their eyes were filled with horror. \n", "\"Pfffbt, pfffffttttt bbbbttt.\"\n\nAnother swirl of color ran zooming past my lawn chair, nearly knocking over my precariously perched iced tea. I groaned as this shapeless being banged into my young pair tree nearby, causing some of the young, hardier fruits tumbling to the ground.\n\nThe young girl, Mischa, she said her name was, watched my grounds, an acre of soft rolling hills, housing many of my fantastic blobs, dimensions, and shapes.\n\nThey ran at all different speeds, some merely rolling in a general direction, while those with tongues cried their fantastic cries into the distance.\n\n\"So tell me,\" Mischa slowly began, \"what exactly are these things?\"\n\nI watched another one of my blobs roll over one of the fallen pairs, its deep blue eyes welling up with tears from pain. Fortunately, it had no mouth. I ran my hand through my graying hair, cropped short and neat.\n\n\"Thats all they really are, things.\"\n\nShe nodded wordlessly, watching the other blobs and shapes crowd around the pained blob. They seemingly soothed it, as it once again rolled away happily with the pack a few moments later.\n\nI had encountered her earlier that day, she was riding a horse through one of the privates trails on my grounds. One of my more courageous blobs had wandered further away from the house, spooking her horse. The horse had bolted, and the shrieks had drawn my attention.\n\nShe had shoulder length auburn hair, I tried to burn that into memory. She was a pretty thing.\n\nAfter much reassurance that she was infact, not dreaming, she had asked with much enthusiasm if she could more closely study the blob. I hesistantly agreed, and led her back to my humble abode.\n\n\"So,\" she asked, taking a sip of ice tea, \"where do these.... these... things come from?\"\n\n\"I draw them.\"\n\n\"No way!\"\n\n\"Yes way, I'm just not a very good artist.\"\n\n\"But how do they come to life?\"\n\n\"I'm not too sure myself. They just... always have. The earliest memory I can recall was watching television as a child. There was a puppet on some children's show or another, and I wanted to draw it quite badly. By the time I had finished my childish scrawling, it just... leapt off the paper and began wandering throughout the room.\"\n\n\"And you never told anybody?\"\n\n\"My parents knew. They shrieked like they saw a ghost and managed to stamp it into nothingness, until it was a quivering jumble of lines. My parents were conservative and religious, living in a small town, it was a different time.\n\nAfter that, I was always careful to never draw, not even doodles in the margins of my schoolbooks. After the initial incident, I began to conventrate on mathematics. Numbers don't come to life. They are static, lifeless things. Cold hard figures that require very little input other than themselves.\"\n\nI took another sip of ice tea to wet my lips.\n\n\"After university, I moved to the city and began working as an actuary. I made very good money, and decided to take a rather early retirement. I bought this plot of land and decided to begin pursuing this... gift in peace.\"\n\nHer brows furrowed slightly.\n\n\"But why now?\"\n\nA good question. I asked myself the same question, when try after try another shapeless form leapt off my canvas to join the other blobs on my grounds.\n\nBut I still knew the answer. Even when the frustration piled up, and the earlier tries led me down a path of wanton drinking. The auburn hair, not unlike Mischa's, the kind blue eyes, that seemed neither to invite nor refuse. The graceful curve of her neck. The seashell ears.\n\nI simply smiled.\n\n\"There's someone I would like very much to meet again.\"" ]	5
	[WP] The Earth is flat, and scientists have been fooling us for centuries. You finally graduate with your Ph.D and after the ceremony, you are taken to the real ceremony and told the truth about how and why they've done it	[ "It was all a blur: The graduation, the stranger who came up to congratulate me, leaving the ceremony and being taken into an old, unused room where I was met with a group of people. I knew none of them, and demanded that someone explain what was going on. I had worked too hard to miss my graduation ceremony!\n\nA taller fellow with a long beard approached me, extending his hand. \"Jonathan Bell. And you are?\"\n\n\"Annoyed.\" I replied. He retracted his offer for a handshake.\n\n\"That's understandable. I promise, this will only take a few moments of your time. Please, have a seat.\" Jonathan gestured to a collection of various chairs, some stolen from other classrooms, arranged in semi-neat rows facing a projector screen.\n\nI scanned the room at the assembled audience, most already seated. I recognized many of these faces from the ceremony only minutes before. What was all this about?\n\n\"If I may have your attention, please?\" Jonathan made his way to the front of the room. The projector turned on, displaying an image of the Earth, in orbit around the sun. \"You are all recent graduates of this esteemed University, all with degrees that pertain to the knowledge I am about to impart on you.\" He paused, making eye contact with each and every person for a few moments before continuing. He gestured to the image on the screen. \"This is a lie.\"\n\nA few people chuckled, but most looked confused, including myself. Was this it? I got pulled away from my graduation for a stupid joke? \n\n\"Now, I know what you're all thinking. 'This is ridiculous, what do you mean?' Allow me to explain. Throughout your whole lives, you have been taught that the Earth is a round object, floating in the vastness of space. You have been taught that we orbit around a giant ball of fire called the sun, and that the seasons change based on the tilt of the Earth. I am here today to tell you that this is all a lie. The Earth is flat.\"\n\nNow I was angry. \"You expect me to believe the Earth is flat?!\" I shouted from the back. \"I just graduated with a PhD in Earth Sciences, and now you are telling me that everything we know about the Earth is a lie? I'm leaving.\" I stood up, as did many of the others in the room. \n\n\"Wait! I have proof!\" Jonathan said. \n\nI turned to face him. \"Then show us.\"\n\nHe opened the briefcase at his feet. He pulled out a DVD, then proceeded to walk over to the computer hooked up to the projector and put it in. On the screen, John F. Kennedy appeared, a grim look on his face. \n\n\"If you are watching this, then you are about to become burdened with a knowledge that something you have taken as truth your entire life has, in fact, been a lie. I am here to inform you that the Earth is not round. Instead, it is a flat plane. At the edges of the Earth lie the reasons we must never tell the public the truth.\"\n\nThe video cut to footage of a barren, frosted wasteland. Jagged ice spires protruded from the ground, rising what seemed to be about thirty feet into the air. The ground was a mixture of ice and mud. There seemed to be no signs of life.\n\nSuddenly, the ground erupted, and a giant beast burst forth. It was the size of a large bus, with slimy black skin and 8 foot claws. Its mouth opened sideways, letting loose a horrible screeching noise like nails on a chalkboard. \n\nA group of men stepped on screen, armed with futuristic-looking guns. They proceeded to blast the monster with hundreds of beams of bright blue light, burning it severely and forcing it to retreat. I took a closer look at their uniforms. I noticed a patch on their upper arms. It was the NASA logo.\n\nFormer President Kennedy returned. \"As you can see, at the edges of the Earth, many hostile creatures await. We are doing all we can to defend humanity against these vile beasts. We created NASA under the guise of space exploration, faked the moon landing, and more, to prevent the population from discovering the truth. If they did, it would result in mass panic and chaos.\n\n\"I am now trusting you, the next generation of future thinkers, to engineer new solutions to aid in the defense of Earth against the malicious creatures. I trust that you will perform this duty for the continued survival of our species a a whole. Thank you.\" " ]	1
	[WP] You have the ability to stop time for a period of six hours, the only catch is that it requires you to take a human life each time. Today the government has taken interest.	[ "I didn't know.\n\nI swear I didn't know. If I had known the price, I never would have stopped time. I would have just forgotten about it, and moved on with my life. But I was selfish.\n\nThe first time it happened was in a parking lot the night after Christmas. I was putting away groceries, when out of nowhere, a truck swerved around the corner and came barreling right towards me. I could have rolled out of the way, but instead I stood there, dumbfounded. This guy must have been drunk and decided to joyride through the parking lot. In that moment, I knew I was going to die. I thought of my sad life; no family, no real friends, my shitty job inputting data at an office job. I closed my eyes and braced for the worst.\n\nIt felt like ages, but in reality it was likely only a few seconds. I opened my eyes to find the truck had come to a complete stop a few inches in front of me. I was so stunned, I forgot to breathe. I walked around the truck that I was sure would be the end of me. The man was slouched over in the drivers seat, unconscious, a half empty beer bottle in the cupholder. \n\nI walked past the truck and looked around. There were a few people in the parking lot along with me, but none of them were moving. I shouted at a lady exiting the store. No reply. I looked into the sky, and saw a group of birds frozen mid-air. That was when it hit me: I did this. Somehow, I had stopped time. I spent the next six hours exploring the world, and found that everything was frozen absolutely still. A man on the sidewalk was dropping his phone, so I picked it up and placed it back in his pocket. A small child riding his scooter was about to crash into a wall, so I turned his scooter around. I was entirely amazed by what was happening, it all felt so surreal. As I was walking through the store, debating whether or not I should take a Flatscreen TV, time began to return to normal. The truck, I thought. I immediately dropped everything I was holding and ran to my car. I needed to get out of the way before my car got hit. I got in, pulled out of the parking lot, and drove off.\n\nI never bothered to check if the truck driver was okay.\n\nAfter that night, life became so much easier. I learned how to control my power, and was able to use it to rob a bank, steal any item I desired, get a new car, and break into buildings and houses where I did not belong. It was all very juvenile, but my life had been so boring before. This was the most fun I have had in 15 years.\n\nThen, one day, it all caught up to me. It was the one year anniversary of the day I had discovered my ability. I turned on the news on my fancy TV, where a reporter stood in the very parking lot in which I had almost been killed. I turned up the volume.\n\n\"The holidays can be a rough time for a lot of people. Last year, on this very day, a local veteran drove his truck straight into this pole in what was believed to be a suicide attempt. A local charity aims to raise funds to help people like Eric Stone, to prevent tragic incidents such as this one.\"\n\nI sat in stunned silence. They were talking about the man who almost killed me! But it couldn't have been a suicide attempt. He was driving drunk. I remembered the beer bottle in the cupholder of his car.\n\nThat night, I went out to test a theory that I hoped to god was wrong. I walked into the local convenience store, scanning the shop. The only other person there was a sad-looking employee, drooped over texting. I concentrated on the subtle movements in the room; the air currents, the sound of thumbs tapping on a phone, a slight creak in the ceiling, and silenced them. When I opened my eyes time was frozen. \n\nI used up my time wandering the city looking for trouble that I could stop. I saw a mugging taking place, and stole the knives from the perpetrators. I moved their victim far away, and handcuffed the muggers to a pole in front of the police station. I helped a waitress in a restaurant who had accidentally tipped her trays of food. Soon enough, the movements began to return, slowly but surely. There was a slight breeze. A bird flapped its wings in super-slow motion. I sprinted back to the convenience store, but I was too late. A car drove past me down the road at a normal speed. \n\nI rounded the corner, and ran into the store. Just as I arrived, I heard a creaking in the ceiling, the same one I had heard as I was stopping time. Before I could do anything, the ceiling collapsed over the head of the employee. He didn't even have time to look up from his phone before his head was crushed.\n\nOh god Oh god Oh god, I screamed in my head as I backed away from the scene. I killed him. It's my fault that he's dead. I turned and ran.\n\nI didn't even get as far as my neighborhood before a black SUV pulled up next to me on the quiet road. Two large men grabbed me by my arms, and jabbed my neck with a needle. I felt drowsy, and before I could react, I fell asleep. \n\n\nI awoke in a small room with concrete walls, my wrists cuffed tightly to a metal table. Across from me sat a large man wearing a generals uniform.\n\nHe looked at me with cold, piercing eyes. \"Don't even think about trying to stop time.\"\n\nI gave an incredulous look. \"I don't know what you're talking about.\" \n\nThe General didn't flinch. \"We have you cuffed to the table tighter than anyone could escape, and even if you did, the only way out of this room is if someone on the outside allows it. Even if you did stop time, you can't escape here.\"\n\n\"I didn't mean to.\" I muttered, frightened. What did they want from me? Were they here to punish me for killing those people?\n\n\"What didn't you mean to do?\" The General gave me an icy stare.\n\n\"Kill those people.\"\n\nHe seemed to hesitate at this, as though I was saying something unexpected. \"We do not care about anyone you may have killed. We want you for a different reason.\"\n\nI thought for a moment. They knew I could freeze time. They kidnapped me in a black SUV. The man in front of me was a General, or at least pretending to be.\n\n\"You work for the government. You want me to stop time for you.\"\n\nHe smiled joylessly. \"There you go. We want to use your talents to keep this country safe. Are you going to help us, or do we have to force you?\" He pulled out a combat knife, and set it on the table. In that moment, I knew what I had to do.\n\nI closed my eyes, and felt the presence of the General in front of me. I heard his breath, felt his heat, smelled his odor. I snuffed it all out, and opened my eyes.\n\nHe sat motionless before me. I tried the cuffs; he was right, there was no way I was getting out of these. But that was not the plan.\n\nI reached for the knife. When I was unable to grasp it, I rotated my body in my chair, and used my leg to move it towards me. I sat back down, now holding the knife in both hands, point up. \n\nI knew what I had to do. My power only lasted for a few hours. In order for the government to use me as a weapon, I would have to freeze time over and over and over again, killing thousands of people in the process. That wasn't a burden I could live with.\n\nI positioned my head above the blade, so as to allow it the path of least resistance up through my eye and into my brain. In a few hours, the General would find a dead man sitting across from him. He would probably have to buy a new table.\n\n\nI bought my head down. ", "\"Who is he?\" the man asked from the back seat of the darkly tinted SUV. \n\n\"Someone special. Someone like you,\" a shadowy government type responded from the front seat. The man smirked and shook his head.\n\n\"Ain't nobody quite like me, or do y'all need another lesson?\" the man responded arrogantly. Another government official turned from the passenger side seat and met the grinning man with a stern and unbudging smile.\n\n\"Shut the fuck up. You still work for us, and you know what's gonna happen if you pull any of that sly shit out here,\" he said to the man in the back seat and held up a small tablet and waved it around in front of him. The man in the backseat flexed his wrists but they were restrained by the handcuffs encasing them. His grin turned serious and he looked back out the window to a solitary man sitting on a street bench. \n\n\"So what does he do? Can you tell me that at least?\" he asked annoyingly. The two men in the front seat looked at each other questioningly and the one sitting on the passenger side raised his shoulders slightly and nodded at the other in the driver's seat. He took the cue and looked into the rear view mirror and made eye contact with the man in the back.\n\n\"He stops time.\"\n\n\"You're shitting me, right? That's fucking crazy, man,\" the man said as the grin returned to his face. Seeing new powers never got old to him and this was the first time he'd heard of someone with an ability to slow or stop time. He could be a valuable addition.\n\nOne of the agents reached down between his legs and pulled up a silver briefcase and popped open its locks. A small, red pistol sat imprinted in the black foam filling the case. The agent pulled it out and cocked it. He then pulled a small key from inside his suit's pocket and turned to the man in the back. \"You never miss, right?\" he asked.\n\nThe man in the back smirked and looked at the pistol in front of him. \"Wouldn't be here if I did,\" he responded. The agent gave an unsure look over to his partner and then a moment later the handcuffs fell flimsily to the floor of the car and the man in the back grabbed the gun from the agent's sweating palms. \n\n\"What is it?\" he asked looking intently at the weapon.\n\n\"Tracking device. We can't afford to lose this guy again so you need to shoot that bag he's carrying. He'll rob the bank, go into hiding and then you'll apprehend him, capiche?\" \n\n\"Aye, aye captain,\" the man answered sarcastically as the window of the SUV rolled slightly down and let in the warmth of the midday sun into the car. The man took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. The window rolled back up and he flicked the gun onto the agent's lap in front of him. \n\n\"Did you get it?\" the agent asked. The man just rolled his eyes at the question, wondering why people continued to ask him that.\n___________________________________________________________________\nKent felt slightly off as he sat in front of the city's largest bank. He'd been eyeing it for years now and the rewards if he succeeded would far exceed any score that came before it. Yet, something felt off today. He glanced around the busy street but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. People walked by carrying on with their boring lives, cars whizzed pass and horns from angry drivers echoed from across the city. Kent's leg bounced nervously up and down. He took a deep breath and stood up from the bench.\n\nHe walked swiftly up to the bank and pushed the glass door aside. A young woman with pale skin and dark, curly hair sitting behind an information desk looked up happily at Kent as he approached her. \n\n\"Good afternoon, sir,\" she said gleefully. \"Can I be of any assistance today?\" she asked him, still smiling.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Kent said grimly. This was the only part of his gift that he truly did not enjoy. It was, however, a means to an end. \"Unfortunately, you can.\" The woman's smile quickly turned as Kent reached his hand out from his coat pocket revealing a small black pistol. He pointed it at the girl and she began to scream and turn away but her cries were drowned out by the loud roar of the pistol going off. Heads from around the bank swung in Kent's direction but before the echoes of the gun could subside the world around him began to blur. His body felt heavy for a moment and he shut his eyes. When he opened them, the world around him was frozen.\n\nThe woman sitting at the desk was half way spun around and dark red blood sat frozen in the air behind her. Kent put the pistol back in his coat pocket and set his watch for six hours. With the hard part out of the way, perhaps this was going to be easier than he thought.\n___________________________________________________________________\nWhen Kent returned to his apartment some time later he threw two large duffle bags on the floor. He slammed the door behind him and walked swiftly over to his speakers and began blaring music. He danced his way around the apartment as he imagined the places he would soon be going with his new found wealth. He was tired of the killing, and decided it was time to finally settle down once and for all. Perhaps Paris he thought to himself, maybe even Sydney. His thoughts paused when he saw an African American man sitting in a chair smiling at him with his legs crossed. Kent looked over to the gun he had hidden under his kitchen counter and was about to leap for it when the man in the chair pulled that same gun from his lap and shook his head at Kent, still smiling. He suddenly shot the speakers, ending the 80's tune and then pointed the gun at Kent.\n\n\"I have money.\" Kent said with a shaky voice. \"A lot of money. You can have it if you want.\" Kent gulped as his throat had suddenly become quite dry. \"Just please don't kill me,\" he begged.\n\n\"Nah, I'm not here for that money, Kent. Though I am impressed with how easily you got your hands on it,\" the man said to Kent. Kent looked at him nervously. \n\n\"Then what do you want?\" \n\n\"There are some,\" the man paused for a moment. \"Some tryouts coming up that I think you'd be perfect for,\" he said, now with a more serious look about his face.\n\n\"Tryouts?\" Kent asked. \"What, for like a team or something?\" The man laughed and sat up from his chair.\n\n\"I like to think of it as more of a squad.\"\n\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] After happy and fulfilling 40 years, you retire and set out to complete your bucket list. Which is a hit list.	[ "I am a simple man. No truly I am. I wake up every morning, I pour my coffee, I pour my wife's coffee and I read the newspaper. I get dressed, same suit and tie every day, give the dog a pet on the head and drive the same route to work everyday. 45 years doing the same thing every day, Monday to Friday. Was my life an exciting life? No. Was it memorable? No. Would I go down in history? You betcha. You see for 45 years of my life I was a stenographer in the Old Bailey courthouses in London. I'm the guy that writes down everything that is said during a trial on that funny little typewriter. I was good too, over 300 words a minute I can manage when I'm in the zone. In fact I'll outright say it. I was the best. I could type for hours while most people needed a break. My fat wrists is what my wife would put it down to at dinner parties. The guests would laugh and I would chuckle dutifully, but the honest truth is I don't know why I was so good, I just never struggled to keep up. Now, due to the fact that I was so good I got all the long trials, things that wasn't going to be settled in a manner of hours. So I never stepped foot in the divorce courts or the high profile company disputes about who stole an idea for their thingamajig from the other companies whatchamacallit. No, I got the murder cases. The rapists. The gang killings and drug smugglers. I got the real pieces of shit that lived and breathed in this world. I would sit dutifully in the corner and listen to them lie through their smarmy teeth. That killed me. You see the British justice system is good, one of the best in the world I would argue, but by God is it malleable. Some gang leader could pay some hotshot oxford lawyer a couple hundred grand, the posh lawyer who went to Eton and had the silver spoon so far up his arse that it tickled the back of his throat, would bury the prosecutors in so much information, hire expert witnesses that said what needed to be said for the right price and generally just fuck about with the rules of the court until the judge would call a halt to proceedings. The jury would leave the room confused, and return to deliver a not guilty verdict. Simple fact of life folks, if you bombard someone with enough big words, they'll pretend they know what you're talking about. You manage to convince twelve people of this and you've got your man off scot free. \n\nThat is until now. For 45 years I sat in those court houses listening to these gobshites lie and cheat their clients out of a stint in the local prison. I've seen jury members bribed, threatened and bullied. And you know what, I'm fucking tired of it. It's about time someone taught those thugs a lesson. Some folks retire with a bucket list, some retire with a fuck'it list. Well on the day of my retirement I retired to a fuck you list. One hundred and thirty six characters who I thought had slipped through the long arm of the law and who deserved to be punished. Now hold your horses, I know what you're thinking. But Mr- how can you be sure that those one hundred and thirty six men and women are guilty. If the burden of proof isn't sufficient to charge them, how can you be sure that they've even committed the crime. Here's how:\n\nA. Burden of proof, smurden of proof. This is a phrase is a fine way to ensure a fair and ethical trial. But never once have I seen a case where the inclusion of this fucking phrase hasn't made me anything but pissed to the hilt. \nB. More importantly. After forty five years in this business I can tell you one thing. Whenever the sentence is handed out there is only one place where everyone is looking- the defendant. Everyone wants to see his or her reaction to the verdict. Now most smile or pump their fist, a few cry, a few jump up or hug their solicitor. Thats the reaction that I call \"acting\". Its a fancy phrase that means, no matter whether or not someone has done something they will pretend in front of a room full of people that the not guilty decision is just and they are ecstatic about it. So never worry about the defendant. Who I look at is their lawyer. You see lawyers are competitive people. They like having a clean slate, they like statistics and figures that back them up. Do you know how much easier it is to get hired when you can walk into a room and say:\n\n\"Hey, do you know that 86% of the people that I defend walk away with a not guilty decision?\"\n\nThats how you sell yourself kids. Thats how you get the money to afford the twat-ish suits and champagne flutes. Anyway, the reaction of the defendant is forced, all eyes are on him, even if he's thick as my wife's lumpy mash, he still knows that he has to act as he is told. Never, ever act shocked on the stand. However, while the lawyers tell their defendants exactly how to act, they sort of, well they forget totally about their reaction. And it shows. \n\nIf a lawyer smiles and interacts with his defendant, that kid is an angel, a golden boy, an innocent who has been unjustly dragged through the justice system. If the lawyer's first reaction is to pack away his things. Folks, the boy done it. And the barrister is thinking.\"I need to get away from this scumbag as fast as my fat pockets will let me.\" The obligatory handshake occurs and the barrister, in no uncertain terms 'legs it'. \n\nSo at the grand old age of 65 I'm coming for you bastards. This is normally the point where theres a funny catchphrase or something, but I'm old and tired, and I just want a cup of tea and bed. Besides there is plenty of time for me to be a smartarse whenever theres a bullet in your heads. " ]	1
	[WP] After growing up with an "imaginary friend" you discover that it is actually a creature from another dimension.	[ "**\nJanks\n*\n\nWe've all had an imaginary friend, or least a real friend ... I hope. How many of those imaginary friends were real? That is the thought that keeps me up at night. I know it shouldn't, but something about Janks* nagged at the back of my mind. I'm thirty-four, which, if you hadn't guessed, is a long way away from six. That's when I first saw Janks. He wasn't more than a couple of feet tall, which suited me just fine at the time. Who wants an imaginary friend that is bigger and stronger than they are?\n\n\"Hello,\" I said. It seemed like a good of an idea as any at the time.\n\n\"Hi,\" the small bulbous-headed creature said. \n\n\"What's your name?\" I asked. What? I was six.\n\n\"Janks,\" Janks said. \"What's your name?\" \n\n\"David,\" I said. Although you probably could not have understood it quite right. I had trouble saying my Vs then.\n\n\"Hello, Dafid,\" Janks replied. \n\nThat started three years of the best friendship I'd ever had as a kid. I got into astronomy and sciences after that. Yes, at nine years old space was freaking cool. I mean heck is was the late 80s. I'd grown up on movies like Star Wars and Bladerunner. My love of science never diminished and I began to explore theoretical physics and multi-dimensional theory. At the age of twenty I was one of the first scientists to be brought in on the New Manhattan project. I know, it was kind of a stupid name if you ask me. \n\nThe New Manhattan project was essentially a play on words, nerds what can I say? But it was also a double-entendre as we were attempting to find a parallel universe, specifically one where Manhattan or another American city existed. Suffice to say, things did not go as planned. We flipped the switch, our hearts pumping with adrenaline and caffeine. Nothing happened. The multi-dimensional cortex, that was the name of the machine, failed to do anything. Well, it did something. It made a small pop, and then it did nothing.\n\nWe stared at the portal, or where there should have been one, and consulted our notes. An argument broke out, but I wasn't paying attention. I briefly heard Scallion say something about warp dimension and power supplies, but he was wrong. The experiment worked. \n\n\"Hello,\" I said.\n\n\"Hi,\" Janks said.\n\n\"Who the hell are you talking to?\" Johnson asked.\n\nI turned around to face the young woman. Then turned back to Janks. It started to become very obvious no one but me could see him. \n\n\"She can't see me,\" Janks said. \n\n\"I gathered,\" I said, turning back to Janks.\n\n\"Dave?\" Johnson said, sounding concerned. \"You okay?\"\n\n\"I'm fine,\" I said. I wasn't so sure that I was. I turned back to Janks. \"What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"I have returned to ensure your species does not continue to disrupt the space-time continuum.\" \n\nHe said it so matter-of-fact that I worried exactly how he was going to stop us. Then I asked him as much. Johnson tried to get the others' attention, her concern obviously growing. I didn't care. I needed to know what Janks was planning to do. I took a step toward him and he took a step back. I felt the hair on my arms rise. I failed to realize then what was happening. I figured I was nervous, but the static energy should have been undeniable. I took another step towards Janks and he took another step back. His face was serious, and somehow sad. I ignored my instincts and I lunged for him, right into the portal.\n\nThere was one there, we just couldn't see it, like the others couldn't see Janks. That janky bastard had lured me into it. When I hit the portal it felt like I was an orange being squeezed for juice. The pressure was nearly unbearable until it was just gone. Everything was just gone. I tried to look down at my hands, but they were gone too, all of me was. That's how Janks, my childhood imaginary friend, inter-dimensional traveler, left me. Oh I can think, and I can remember, but I can't do a damn thing about it. Fuck you Janks you janky ass son of a bitch." ]	1
	[WP] The story behind how that one random shoe is lying in the road.	[ " \n\n\nThe story behind how that one random shoe is lying in the road.\n\n\nThey ran from the Demigod-Devil of Astra-Han until they could run no more, and then they ran some more still. His armies were nearly upon them, just behind The Pass of Mount Eromh-Sur. Killnark The Wizard lost his staff, Jeda The Rogue lost her Angel given Gold Dagger, Magthar the Brave lost his right greave, and Maya the Princess was slowly losing her sanity.\n\nBut this story isn't about a greave, it's about a shoe. Lying in the middle of the road.\n\nDanny The Drug Smuggler was pressed tightly against the rotten bark of a fallen tree for the fifth hour straight. He heard dogs bark two hours ago, but the sounds of Police search have gradually receded. His list of crimes at this point rivaled only the great Roger-Rifle-Shooter. \"Well fuck me silly with a cream-cheese bagel\" thought Max as he slowly got up \"I lost my favorite scarf\".\n\nBut wait... this story isn't about a scarf, it's about a shoe. Lying in the middle of the road.\n\nSandra the Swedish Spy was getting dressed after a long night. She was spent, most women were after spending the night with the Prime Minister of Kyrgyzstan. She went to the bathroom, and cautiously opened her com log. \"Wave your specially crafted-luminescent-radio shoe in the window thrice, if the operation is successful\" read the screen. She stealthily closed her device and took off her spy Timberlands, whilst slowly approaching the balcony...\n\nBut wait... this story isn't about a balcony, it's about a road. With a shoe lying in the middle of it.\n\nPedro The Pothead had won the lotto. It was $15 but it was more than what he needed for a gram. Sasha The Slinger hooked him up with a sweet deal. \"Some OG shit this is brother, saved it just for you\" he said as they exchanged currency for grass. Pedro The Pothead was experienced in the ways of Ganja, yet he presently overestimated the knock-out power of the OG. \n\"Jah save...\" thought Pedro as he walked down the dimly lit road home. \"These street lights are making me thirsty... I better sit down\". And down he sat, for the next twenty to fifty minutes, it's really hard to tell when you're that high. \n\"I wonder what mom cooked for supper\" popped a thought inside Pedro's head, pushing aside an escapade of colorful mimicry. With that in mind Pedro got up and started home. The warm summer grass along the walkway was beckoning to be walked upon barefoot, and so he took of his left shoe. But since he was so cheech'n'chonged, he forgot to take off the other one. \n\nAnd that's the story of that single shoe. Lying in the middle of the road.\n\nOh, and by the way, it was Spaghetti night at mom's house. \n", "Max was a pretty ordinary guy. An observer might have said he seemed a bit shy perhaps but otherwise normal in almost every way. He had normal looks, a white man in his early 30's. Rather plain actually. He had the kind of face you would see in the background any photo and take no notice of it.\n\nPlain and non descript, boring even.\n\nIn fact, being remarkably unnoticeable was the most remarkable thing about him.\n\nHe was of average height, average build. A slight bulge around the waist. Not quite big enough to be called a beer belly, but big enough to be noticeable if you noticed him at all. His eyes were that unremarkable common shade of brown that almost, but not quite, matched his rumpled, windblown hair.\n\nThe clothes he wore were standard issue nobody. A slightly faded pair of jeans, a t-shirt with some unremarkable quote about a happy life and a hooded sweater hanging unzipped and open with pockets on either side. As he stood on the edge of he street he had his hands stuffed into the pockets of the sweater pulling it down, tight around the shoulders.\n\nHe wore an average, well worn pair of sneakers that had that \"worn comfortable\" look to them.\n\nIf you were paying attention to him, which is unlikely as he seemed to fade into the background when you glanced his way, you might have found it odd the way he stared at the house across the road. Number 22 Daffodil Lane. His eyes were fixed not on the door, the windows or even the house itself. Instead his attention seemed to be focused on a garden gnome on the lawn. One specific garden gnome.\n\nNumber 22 Daffodil Lane had a nicely manicured garden with a slightly winding cobblestone walkway leading from the street to the front porch and a row of nearly trimmed hedges either side along the border between it and the houses next door. The walkway was lined with garden gnomes in all manner of positions. All slightly different, but all with same cheerful grin and red hat. All except the 4th one down from the porch. That one had a smile that spoke of secrets untold. A mischievous grin that seemed to speak of misdeeds enjoyed. That gnome was the one that had captured Max's attention.\n\nIf you had been watching you would know Max had standing perfectly still watching the gnome for nearly 40 minutes. If you had been watching closer you might have thought the gnome was watching Max just as intently. But that would be crazy wouldn't it?\n\nA few more minutes passed in silence as Max and the gnome, eyes locked, stared at each other.\n\nThen, so quickly Max couldn't be sure it happened, the gnome blinked.\n\nMax wasn't quite sure he saw a blink. After all it could be that he had blinked and just thought the gnome had. But something seemed strange about that gnome, of this Max was certain. He had past this house many times on the way to the corner 7-11 and he was sure the gnome was different today.\n\nSo he took a gamble. \"I saw you\". He said. \"I saw you blink\". He said it with all the confidence he could muster.\n\nThis was the invisible difference you couldn't see by just looking at Max. Max was a dreamer, a believer in the impossible. On the outside he appeared plain and ordinary, but on the inside Max was a unicorn. That rare person who not only dreamed the impossible, but believed in it.\n\nIn response the gnome stayed still. As frustratingly immobile as ever.\n\nMaybe it was just my imagination, Max thought. Still he stared and the gnome stared back. Slowly, carefully Max blinked. Just as his eyes reopened he saw it again. The gnome blinked. This time there was no doubt.\n\n\"I saw you. Again\" Max said. \"I know you blinked\".\n\nA few moments more passed in silent staring. \"Well,\" Max said, \"are you going to just keep pretending you're just another garden gnome or are you going to do something?\"\n\n\"What would you have me do?\" The gnome asked. Then he stood up straight and took a few steps forward, a scowl on his face.\n\n\"Well talking is a good start\" Max said. \"What are you doing here? What happened to the gnome that was there before?\".\n\n\"I am the gnome that was there before.\". The gnome replied as he took a few more steps forward. \"I just woke up\".\n\n\"What? How?\" Max spluttered. \"I mean why would you wake up now and why?\"\n\n\"I wake up all the time, we all do\" said the gnome, taking a few more steps forward.\n\n\"We sleep for a while, weeks, months, years even. Then when we get bored or restless we wake up and play THE GAME.\" All the while the gnome was speaking he had been inching forward closer to the street, closer to Max.\n\n\"What game?\" Max asked. The gnome's steady advance hadn't escaped Max's notice. But he couldn't help but not feel more curious than cautious. After all it was just a garden gnome. Sure it talked and walked, but it was still just a pint sized porcelain lawn ornament.\n\n\"Why, hide and go seek of course\" said the gnome. \"Wanna play? By this time the gnome had left the lawn and was half way across the street, just a few feet from Max.\n\n\"Well I suppose it could be fun\" said Max. \"Who hides and who seeks?\".\n\nA mischievous grin spread across the gnomes face. \"We hide you and everyone gets to look for you!\" The gnome yelled as he leaped the last few feet to Max and grabbed hold of his right foot.\n\nThe world started going blurry, like it was out of focus and another landscape of rolling grassy hills and daffodils and what looked like a forest in the distance started to appear like a virtual reality overlay.\n\nMax panicked, frantically he tried to pull away from the gnomes surprisingly tight grasp. The rolling hills started seeming more real than the street he was on. In a few more moments Max was sure he wouldn't be able to see the street anymore.\n\nWith a mighty pull Max pulled harder. Fortunately for him he was a bit lazy and he wore his shoes loosely tied so he could easily slip them on and off without having to tie them.\n\nWith one last tug his foot pulled free from his right shoe. The street snapped back into sharp focus. Without a moments hesitation Max turned and ran, leaving the gnome hiding the shoe behind him.\n\nAnd that's where we leave Max for today because this story isn't about him, it's about that shoe. The one left lying in the street.\n\nSo if you will please, turn your gaze from Max running. And don't fret, Max is perfectly safe. Now, turn your gaze back to the shoe. The one lying alone on the street. Yes alone. The gnome isn't hiding it anymore. In fact, if you look around you might notice he doesn't seem to be anywhere. Not even in his normal spot 4th down from the porch.\n\nLook a little closer. Do you see it now? That bit of shiny red just barely visible in the bush nearest the street and the shoe. Yes, that's the spot. There's the gnome.\n\nNow look over to your left. Do you see that guy walking this way. The blond haired one with the pretentious goatee dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with the oh-so-fancy designer sneakers. That's Tom. And today is Tom's last day on earth. In fact, it's Tom's last few moments on earth. No, he isn't going to die, at least not right now. But, well... Just watch, you'll see. He's going on a bit of a trip.\n\nAnd there it is, Tom has spotted Max's abandoned shoe. Did I mention Tom is a bit of a sneaker snob. Oh, well he is and that will be his downfall.\n\nTom just can't help himself, he is drawn to the sneaker in the road like a moth to a porch light. Of course Max's sneaker is far too common, ordinary and worn for Tom to care too much. But all it takes is a few moments. Just a second or two. Tom rears back his right leg to give the abandoned sneaker a mighty kick and just as his leg begins it's forward swing Tom feels something grab his left foot. Just as his right foot connects with the shoe Tom finds himself in an open field of daffodils, a forest in the distance. And he hears a laugh and an eerily eager voice as if from down a long tunnel.\n\n\"Hide and Seek, Hide and Seek' Hide and Seek\"!!!!\n\nAnd that is the last we will probably ever see of Tom... unless he is extraordinarily lucky.\n\nAs for the shoe, it's still in the street. Tom's kick sent it flying a few dozen feet where it will stay until someone else comes along, or maybe Max will venture back to look for it. But that's a tale for another day.\n\nSo what's the moral of the story? Take your pick.\n\nNever trust a garden gnome springs to mind.\n\nDon't tie your shoes to tightly.\n\nNever kick a shoe in in the road.", "Disengaging the clutch, he lifted off the accelerator and slicked the gated shifter into 3rd. The echoed rumble filled the air briefly before the twelve cylinder settled into a gentle rhythm. The perfume of leather, petrol, and the sea relaxed their heartbeats and there was nothing more to do but breathe. They slowly glanced at each other and he saw her hair waving in the wind. Her dress matched the car and the rose in her hair. It barely covered her slender legs as she extended her feet out onto the passenger door sill. Their shadows sped calmly across the countryside, dipping and diving off olive branches, villas, and the crimson buildings in the setting sun. The shore of the Mediterranean appeared on the horizon. It was a moment in time, the building to the crest of the wave, when there was nothing left to do give in. She smiled coyly as she let one shoe slip into the wind. It made no sound that they could hear as it vanished behind them. He shifted into the fourth and took her hand. Before long, the red dot disappeared over the horizon.", "By this point, we had been arguing for almost an hour. Scratch that, not arguing, but fucking yelling. Yeah. Yelling at each other as usual. This time was different though. When I'd glance at her in the drivers seat her hands would tense. I want to tell her to put on her seatbelt, I really do. But I know she'd only yell more. I really fucked up this time. \n\nSo we're homeless now. And believe me, I do feel bad. So here we are, in the middle of the desert yelling at each other going 80 in a 60. Not very safe. But when she's mad she drives fast. When she's mad she doesn't look at me. When she's mad she throws shit. She breaks shit. When she's mad.. Oh god she's mad.\n\nSick of the yelling I try to unwind. If that's possible. I slip off my shoes and recline my seat. As soon as I do that, I hear glass shatter. Oh no. I managed to fuck up, yet again! I broke her vase. Her favorite vase. Cue the yelling again. But this time, there's no holding her back. We yell and scream more until I've had enough. I tell her to pull over. Instead of pulling over, she speeds up. We're now going 100 on a 60. Thank God I see no cars in sight. I beg at her, no I cave in and yell:\n\n\"Fod God's sake Liz, just fucking pull over! Slow the fuck down!\"\n\nAnd she jerks the wheel. The car flips once it touches the rough surface off the road. The last thing she heard was me yelling at her. I won't forget that.\n\nI was \"lucky\" enough to survive. If I had just told her to put on her seatbelt. Maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe if.. Had I just.\n\nThe highway department scraped all of our stuff off the road. Most of it was trash at this point. I decided to go ahead though. When I finally got a chance to look at it all it hurt. I looked through her stuff. This was her favorite shirt, this was her favorite pair of pants. The necklace her great aunt gave her before passing away. Her favorite pair of shoes. But no. Her favorite shoe. I couldn't find the other one. ", "\"Sorry, sweetie. I can't come pick you up today, Rob's still really sick. Do you think you could walk home?\" I could hear the stress in my mom's voice, even through my phone's shitty speakers.\n\n\"Yeah, of course. Need me to get anything on my way home?\"\n\n\"No, thank you. I'm sorry, Dean.\"\n\n\"It's okay, Mom. I can stop by the game store.\" I walked through the school gate, waving to my friends.\n\n\"Sure, that's fine. Love you.\"\n\n\"Love you too.\" I flipped the phone shut and stuffed it into my pocket, ducking to avoid the branch of a thick oak tree. I noticed the sky was getting grayer with each passing minute and upped my pace.\n\nWhen I got to Game Central, I spotted Tommy and Phillip Brown- twins that were identical. Not in looks, but in douchiness. They were harassing the homeless man that slept between Game Central and Taco Bell; I think he scavenged food. \n\n\"You're fucking gross,\" Tommy shouted at the cowering old man. He wasn't wrong, but still. The old man didn't say anything; he just recoiled, arms defensively raised in the air. Phillip took advantage of that to wrench a shoe from his foot, tossing it into the road. The old man pleaded, but Tommy spat on him. I clenched my fist and headed for the door before they could spot me.\n\nOnce inside, I browsed the PS3 section for sales. There was a twenty in my backpack, just waiting to be spent. Amidst rifling through their available titles, I looked up and saw the Douche Duo crossing the street, kicking the old man's shoe with middle fingers in the air. They high-fived and kept going.\n\nI set the game I was holding down and walked out into the street, grabbed the shoe, and handed it to the old man. He looked at me like a kicked puppy, eyes nervously flickering from side to side, before he finally took it from me.\n\n\"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not like those guys.\"\n\nHis face was dirty, aside from several streaks of lighter skin running down from his eyes. \"Thank you, son.\"\n\nSomething swept over me. Against all reason, all fear and apprehension, I dropped my backpack and stormed across the street.\n\n\"Kid, you left this!\" I heard the old man call out behind me, but still I pressed forward, jumping through a wall of bushes. I was following the sound of two morons laughing like Mom had just brought home a pack of Gushers.\n\nSure enough, there they were, throwing sand in some kid's face. I walked straight up to Phillip and swung my lanky arm into his pudgy face, sending him reeling to the ground. Blood spurted from his nose and my hand screamed in agony, nearly leaving me in tears.\n\n\"What the fuck, dweeb?\" Tommy was freaking out, but didn't know what to do. I took advantage of the opportunity and stole Phillip's shoe, chucking it into the road. A massive booming sound rocked over the park we were in when it landed, like I'd thrown a grenade into the street. Spots of cold dotted my neck, a soft pitter-pattering in the leaves overhead.\n\n\"My shoe!\" Phillip yelled, grasping his nose. Blood was all over him, and he sounded like a moron trying to talk. He looked at Tommy, then at the increasingly blackening sky, and they turned to run home.\n\n\"You're dead, asshole. Dead!\"\n\nI shrugged and walked back to the game store for my backpack. The old man was looking at the shoe in the road, then turned his eyes to me.\n\n\"The fat one?\" he asked.\n\n\"The fat one.\" I laughed, then winced and nurtured my hand. \n\n\"Hey, sonny.\" I looked at him, and he was holding my backpack out. \"I appreciate that you care, but you shouldn't hurt people. Otherwise you're just like them.\n\nI looked down at my throbbing hand. \n\n\"But... maybe we'll give this time a pass.\" My eyes met his, and he chuckled dryly. I took my backpack and pulled the twenty dollar bill out, handing it to him. \"Oh, I can't take this.\"\n\n\"I want you to have it. You need it more than me.\"\n\nEven in the darkness of cloud cover, I could see his eyes so clearly. They were filled with hurt, struggle and strife. With exhaustion and hunger.\n\nAnd just the tiniest fleck of happiness.\n\n------\n\nthanks for reading! You can find more at /r/resonatingfury" ]	5
	[WP] You've found a cure for cancer by sheer dumb luck while in the lab! Sadly, you've accidentally dropped the only sample of the cure into a tray filled with samples of poison which, inconveniently, are the exact same size, shape, and color as the cure. What now?	[ "\"Oh! Fiddle-sticks!\" Yelled Dale. The vial of his only sample landed in the tray marked \"Poison! Do Not Handle!\" He stuck his hand between the vials and slowly began to pull his sample up. If the room were not so cold, he would have been dripping with sweat. He held the vial in his hand and wondered who had left something so unusually dangerous on the floor.\n\n\"That was close! It would have been a major, major catastrophe if this thing broke.\" Dale placed the vial in a padded briefcase and looked about the dark room. \"I wonder where the rest of the researchers are? It is very important that we document out findings.\" \n\nHe went over to the desk and began to take notes. As he wrote he began to forget the subject on which he was writing. He placed down the pen and looked about the room.\n\n\"Now where is that sample? AH!\" He shouted and opened the padded briefcase. As he took the vial from the padding, he wondered if his other colleagues had access to such samples. After taking some gloves, he opened the vial and measured out some in an eyedropper. He then took strips of a special paper and tested the chemical. Slowly the color changed and he exclaimed, \"EURICA!!!\" He corked the test tube and as he was walking, tripped on something, and dropped the sample into another tray of test tubes.\n\n\"Oh! Fiddle-sticks!\" Yelled Dale. The vial of his only sample landed in the tray marked \"Poison! Do Not Handle!\" He stuck his hand between the vials and slowly began to pull his sample up. If the room were not so cold, he would have been dripping with sweat. He held the vial in his hand and wondered who had left something so unusually dangerous on the floor.\n\n\"That was close! It would have been a major, major catastrophe if this thing broke.\" Dale placed the vial in a padded briefcase and looked about the dark room. \"I wonder where the rest of the researchers are? It is very important that we document out findings.\" \n\nHe went over to the desk and began to take notes. As he wrote he began to forget the subject on which he was writing. He placed down the pen and looked about the room.\n\n\"Now where is that sample? AH!\" He shouted and opened the padded briefcase. As he took the vial from the padding, he wondered if his other colleagues had access to such samples. After taking some gloves, he opened the vial and measured out some in an eyedropper. He then took strips of a special paper and tested the chemical. Slowly the color changed and he exclaimed, \"EURICA!!!\" He corked the test tube and as he was walking, tripped on something, and dropped the sample into another tray of test tubes...\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] You walk through your bedroom door in the morning, just to notice that it doesn't lead where it should. In fact all the doors suddenly lead somewhere else.	[ "8.01am. The Earth glitch occured. Programmers were baffled, hunting meticulously through the binary that made up what earthlings referred to as \"the universe\".\n\nOf course, the Earth inhabitants were none the wiser. The results of this disaster could range from hilarious to worrying. The programmers were well aware this could cause the whole fabric of reality to cave in on itself. They were also aware that it could be Zarbon VI playing a prank on the poor sleep-deprived aliens that controlled the universe. The Earthlings awoke.\n\n*\n\nDavid Appleby awoke with confusion. Bright sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the small, square room around him. It was December 21st but it felt like the week of Summer the Brits had grown accustomed to. He sat upright and let out a sigh of disgust as he dripped with sweat. A large, damp pool greet him where he lay and his pillow was wet as well. He threw the sheets off, wiped his face with a nearby handkerchief and shuffled out the room.\n\nHe yawned, eyes half open, as he subconsciously walked down his hallway. He stepped in the bathroom and felt a gust of cold wind swirling around his feet. He opened his eyes and let out a startled gasp. His sweat-soaked brow froze and goosebumps pricked his skin. His hairs stood on end and the cold felt like daggers on his skin.\n\nHe was in a large, rectangular room with icicles hanging from the ceiling. Clumps of snow gathered in the corners and an old box computer sat alone with a blinking green light. He pinched himself to make sure he was awake. Upon the pain and the drawing of blood, David realized he was in fact awake. He turned back whence he came and stepped back into the warm hallway.\n\nHe shut the door and stood, contemplating what he saw, before opening the door again. A blast of cold air confirmed his thoughts that he was infact insane and should think about checking himself into an asylum.\n\nOne more time, just to be sure.* This time he picked up a clump of snow next to the door. The snow slowly melted, dripping on the carpet as he fingered the snow. His bare hands turned red from freezing numbness. He dropped it to the ground with a wet slap and it quickly melted from the heat.\n\nHe turned and scratched his curly, black hair. What was going on?\n\n Biting his bottom lip, he turned toward the spare bedroom and held the doorknob. He pushed open the door.\n\nEndless sand dunes stretched out like waves before him. Dry, arid air swirled around him and he coughed involuntarily as a cloud of sand rose in the air and slapped his face. The hot sun beamed down above him and somewhere in the distance a camel grunted in recognition of his presence. He shut the door again.\n\nAt this point, David was sure he was on some sort of hallucinogenic. He wasn't insane. This was real. He tried to think of the many people that disliked him. There was Nigel, the grumpy old man that lived two doors down. His constant snarl and insistance to tell David when he parked a few inches too close to his car gave him a good motive to dislike him. Enough to drug him? He shook his head.\n\nDavid was a recluse and disliked people. That wasn't to say he was socially inept; infact it was quite the opposite. He worked in a large office full of people he regularly spoke to and got on well with. He politely declined their invitations for drinks or a social gathering and spent his evenings watching re-runs of Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Star Trek. The thought of spending more time with people outside his place of work filled him with dread.\n\n\"Hello? Is this Room 632?\" A frail, old lady appeared before him. Her hunched body was clutched over a walking stick, her skin sagged behind thick, eye glasses that accentuated her large eyes as she spoke.\n\n\"Is this? Sorry what?\" David scratched his scalp again and turned toward the lady.\n\n\"Hotel Alexandria. Room 632.\" The lady said matter-of-factly. Her annoyance and confusion echoed that that David felt.\n\n\"This is MY house. You are trespassing right now.\" David pointed toward the front door. As he did, a dark figure approached. A key twisted and a man stepped inside.\n\n\"And here we have the front room an--\" The man stopped, a young couple bundled in ahead of him and shared the feeling of confusion echoed in the hallway.\n\n\"What are you doing in this house?\" The man said, adjusting his tie. He held a clipboard with the words \"House For Sale\" on. His eyes jumped from David to the old lady and back again.\n\n\"Is this...is this your grandma?\"\n\n\"NO!\" David said, exasperated. \"What are you all doing in my house?!\"\n\nHe clenched his fists, the numbness he experienced earlier evaporating from the close, warm air. He was unsure why all these people were in his house but he was convinced this was some form of punishment from all those missed social gatherings. Or a very powerful hallucingen.\n\nIt's definitely John. This is his sort of prank...but how does he know where I live? David took a deep breath and cleared his throat.\n\n\"Haha very funny guys.\" The others blinked in confusion. \"Now, please get out of my house.\"\n\nThe house-seller sneered and narrowed his gaze. \"Your house?\"\n\n\"Yes, my house.\"\n\n\"No, I'll think you'll find this is property of Fox & Sons Ltd. I have no idea how you managed to get in here but I suggest you leave before I call the authorities and inform them you're trespassing.\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\" The old lady said slowly. \"Does anyone know what time bingo starts tonight?\"\n\n\"Bingo?\" David said incredulously. \"This isn't a hotel!\"\n\n\"It is.\" She said, nodding. \"It says it right here.\"\n\nDavid sighed and turned toward his bedroom. He left the others there and shut the door. As he did, he heard rapturous appluase. He turned and saw a crowd of people standing in an auditorium. A solitary microphone was illuminated by a spotlight that shone on it ominuously.\n\n\"AND NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN...\" A voice echoed around the room. \"THE AMAZING, THE INCREDIBLE, JOHN BOWSON!\" David felt a hard shove behind him and he stumbled forward. He clutched the microphone with both hands and swallowed hard.\n\n\"He-hello? What is this?\" Unblinking faces stared up at him expectantly. He swallowed hard and realized among all the confusion he was still half naked. He begun to sweat again and as he attempted to speak, no sound came out.\n\nHe turned helplessly toward the large, red curtain behind him and tripped on a loose wire. As his face hit the ground, he awoke with a start. \n\nHe took a deep breath and smiled, safe in the knowledge it was all a dream. None the wiser that the programmers had fixed the bug and reset the program to that very morning.", "Killz Kopz was a drug dealer. His friends called him \"KK AK\". On all social media platforms his handle was \"KK AK\". The man wasn't affiliated with the KKK, but white supremacists still sent him friend requests on Facebook. He was a chubby Samoan guy with tribal tattoos. He was blind in his left eye, and it showed, his eye was milky white. He had recently cut his hair, his long curly locks got dusty whenever he snorted lines of cocaine. His business was thriving, meth was selling at rapid speed, and speed was selling like hot cakes. KK AK loved to bake as well. Ronald Terry, who was a white supremacist, loved to bake as well. They exchanged recipes often. KK AK made some croissants, and invited Ronald over for some hard drugs and fresh baked food. Now, they didn't know the police were mounting their drug bust that day, and they didn't know KK AK's trap house knew. Ronald brought his glock just in case, and KK AK kept an AK by the couch. A van containing a SWAT unit was on route, a couple cars behind Ronald. Ronald suddenly felt nervous, he wanted to make a good first impression. He had feelings he never felt before, and was conflicted. Meanwhile KK AK was on the couch, watching BET, smoking a joint, holding a sawed off shotgun. His homie Juansito, a cholo from around the way was snorting a line of crystal meth. KK AK was planning on robbing this \"sus ass racist ass cracker\" as soon as he entered the door. KK AK wasn't with that gay shit. His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a knock on the door. Ronald had arrived. He felt butterflies in his stomach. KK stood up and pointed at the door, the cue for Juansito to get in position to grab the Nazi. KK opened door and a sharp wind rattled his bones, snowflakes turned his living room into the equivalent of a scalp with terrible dandruff. The furniture looked like it had a thick layer of cocaine on it. Thinking he was tripping, he stumbled outside. Juansito pissed himself. Meanwhile, Ronald stares down the barrel of a rifle, hot, humid air smacks him in the face. He can smell the trees and the steel of the rifle. He ducks, as the hunter shoots, too late to take his finger off the trigger, as this young man appears in front of him. Just then, the SWAT van skids to a stop as the bullet travels from the hot forest of Louisiana, through KK AK's front door, and into south L.A., traveling over a thousand miles in a second, and hits the driver. The SWAT team jumps out of the van, six guys with m16s and mp5s open fire. Ronald dives through the door, and the hunter shuts it behind him, confused and completely startled. At the same time the door closes behind KK AK as hes on what seems to be the top of a mountain. Dressed for an L.A. summer, he feels Jack Frost's callousness wrap around him like a bear hug. Juansito is decimated by the hail of gunfire that destroys the door. The SWAT team advance towards the door and kick down what's left, they can see into the house, the snow covered furniture and drugs, but as they kick down the door and sweep the house for more hostiles. A rookie heads upstairs, looking to make his mark and be recognized in the squad. He opens the closest door to him, and stumbles upon a room, large and made of cement with bullet holes and blood decorating the walls. About 10 men armed to the teeth wearing black robes and turbans were gathered around a table, speaking in aggressive Arabic. One turns around, and screams something alerting his comrades. The SWAT team had stumbled upon an ISIS cell that had escaped a Kurdish advance. \n\n\nThank you for putting up with this. I have no idea how I'm continuing this haha, spontaneous spur of the moment writing. " ]	2
	[WP] One man's heaven is another man's hell. Write about an instance of this from both men's perspective.	[ "\"Wow... I thought that...\" Steven was cut off.\n\n\"Every time... I said figs, FIGS!\" Jesus sighed. \"Besides, didn't you specifically change that term so this wouldn't happen ever again?\"\n\n\"Kinda? It isn't as widespread yet I guess.\" Steven laughed, relieved. \"I don't even know how it translated like that...\"\n\n\"Language is... Odd, honestly.\" Jesus shrugged. \n\n\"Still... The part about sleeping with a man as if he were a woman?\" Steven raised an eyebrow. \"Or the whole thing with coveting your neighbors' wife?\"\n\n\"You treat people how they deserve to be treated, what man wants to be treated like a woman in bed?\" Jesus asked. \"And Solomon had many wives, it doesn't go against the commandments.\"\n\n\"Huh... Neat...\" Steven smiled. \"Sorry about the ummm lack of church going lately.\"\n\n\"What you do to the least of my brothers and sisters you have done onto me.\" Jesus reassured the recently read man. \n\nSteven hugged his messiah. \"Thank you...\"\n\nIn the middle of the sea of homosexual men lied a man who was not in the best of moods. \n\n\"No, no, no, no, NoOoooo!\" Steve sceamed, running in terror. \n\n\"Quiet down would you, it's hard to concentrate with your yelling.\" A man complained, having sex with another. \n\n\"Yeah, the bdsm section is that way.\" The other man pointed into the sea of all out orgy. \n\n\"Ew Ew Ew Ew Ew!\" Steve tried to get the images out of his head to no avail. \n\n\"Endless gay orgy!\" Steve and Steven yelled, one in heaven, the other hell. " ]	1
	[WP]A modern drone is being flown in a storm in an abandoned TI instruments parking lot. Suddenly it vanished. In 1982 an engineer sees it suddenly appear and fall out of the sky on to his car.	[ "No one worked later than Steve. It wasn't that he was the most competent. Far from it. But he liked to stay behind to restock the pens and read the older TI manuals in the archives.\n\n\"I don't know why you read that stuff.\" said Maria from development when she caught him one night. \"It's all just legends and stories at this point. The last TI-81 stopped functioning decades ago. You'd be lucky to find one in a yard sale nowadays.\"\n\nBut Steve would just smile and nod, escorting her out the door before sitting back down at his cubicle and marveling at the curled yellow pages.\n\nThat was why he was there alone that night. Alone and about to get into his car when he noticed the sound of the storm had stopped. Steve squinted up to see a widening hole in the clouds, and held up a hand to shield his eyes from the narrow beam of moonlight that lit up the lot. \n\nSteve didn't even have a chance to react to what happened. In the span of a blink, the streetlamps shattered and a wave of graveled pebbles knocked him off his feet.\n\nWhen he rose, Steve rose gingerly, patting down his legs and arms to make sure he hadn't been hit by a piece of shrapnel. Remarkably he was largely intact, save for a piece that had wedged into the back of his hand.\n\nSteve turned to regard the crater that had once been his beloved Mini Cooper. At its center was a blue obloid egg about the size of a puppy. No, not an egg. On closer examination Steve could make out wizzened propellers turning listlessly from the top.\n\nIt was mechanical. A drone or robot of some sort, yet nothing like he had ever seen before. Some kind of custom made then. It buzzed in what Steve interpreted to be an embarrassed yet annoyed manner, before slowing dimming and ceasing to move. \n\nNow in normally this would have been the point where Steve would have popped back into being a responsible adult out of sheer reflex. He was not one for lingering over disasters and car crashes. He would have realized his phone was still alive and kicking in his back pocket. He would have called the cops who would have escorted him home. He would be slightly alarmed when they handed him an envelope full of money for putting the whole thing out of his head. And eventually he would have. \n\nBut this did not happen. Because Steve noticed a TI-81 processor chip poking out of the side of the drone. He reached out without planning, without thinking. Hours upon hours of familiar blueprints and step by step repair procedures suddenly booming through his head, itching down the lengths of his fingers.\n\nWordlessly he cradled the drone and entered the building. Lights clicked on one by one as he made his way down the hall and through the heavy double doors labeled \"DEVELOPMENT\".\n\nHis fingers were dancing before he even reached the table. He ignored the pain from his right hand where the shrapnel was still lodged and prepared the necessary tools. A mad grin stretched across his face right before he set to work. The very first thing written in the service manual was:\n\n* Avoid working alone.\n\nAs he worked through the litany he could feel his body flush with excitement.\n\n* Disconnect the live test lead before disconnecting the common test lead.\n\nTo think, once he had been satisfied with simply reading.\n\n* Be sure the meter is in good operating condition.\n\nIt wasn't. Steve went over to Maria's desk and stripped down the most recent prototype, bastardizing the parts as needed. Now the \"meter was in good operating condition\". \n\n* The bus control cell performs address decoding and manages selective power down, split jack sense, and low battery signals. Be sure to disable before working directly on the device.\n\n* Connect the output decoding ROM to the 4-bit state machine and a / d converter. \nIn this way, he continued. \n\nHours later Steve wiped at his head. Only one thing was left to be do. His fingers were no longer trembling. He was spent now, barely capable of pressing down the switch that sent an invisible surge of voltage into the drone.\n\nIt twitched once.\n\nMinutes passed, but that was it. \n\nIt only twitched once.\n\nThat was when the horror began. \n\n* Steve had broken back into the building after hours.\n\n* Steve had used the key lent to him by the kindly old cleaner who was now just as certainly fucked as he was.\n\n* Steve had dismantled the newest prototype TI designed by Maria, who he had always had a sorta had a crush on. Who had assured him drunkenly once that her TI was going to bring 'calculators back into the fold.'\n\nSteve grabbed at the drone in desperation. Intending to throw it, or break it further, or salvage the parts he had stolen, or—as his fingers brushed the drone it burst into motion, long vines of segmented cords wrapping around his fingers and wrist, ends writhing like worms before pushing against, then entering his skin. \n\nSteve screamed and tried to pull it off him, but it latched stubbornly to the back of his hand. He could feel it moving inside him, his arm growing numb as blood rushed out of him.\n\nIn a rush, he gripped the worktable with his other hand, and smashed down his arm on the table with all of his weight. Then again. And again and again and again and again. Dents sprouted across the table, but he did not stop, could not stop, until he felt it give way and he fell down with it onto the floor. He coughed as he pushed himself up. Maria's TI was beside him, utterly unrecoverable.\n\nSteve looked at his arm, which looked back at him reproachfully. The back of his hand gaped open and spat out a piece of gravel at his face before seamlessly returning to a pattern of dark blue ink. \n\nSteve remembered his mother warning him never to get a tattoo. " ]	1
	[WP] Because the hardest thing is never to repent for someone else, it's letting people in.	[ "If you love someone, you will share your innermost thoughts with them.\n\nYeah. Bullshit. You know what? Every hope you share with your lover? Every dream, every fear, every desire you harbor in the deepest recesses of your heart, the ones that even you weren't sure existed until you found them late at night, in the arms of those you love? Every one is just one more weapon handed to them to beat you with. One more knife. One more thing they can use against you, to hurt you with when you need their protection the most.\n\nI learned that too late, but at least I was lucky; some people never did learn that lesson. How many people in my life had I seen talked down to, belittled, told again and again that they would never amount to anything, that their dreams were puerile, their interests were for kids, for losers, for the hopeless? How many times had I seen a man pissed at his wife for the crime of wanting to be an artist, for taking time out of his oh-so-busy schedule to take that art class, when it was obvious she would never amount to anything? How many times a woman laughing at her husband for his fear of heights, forced to work in the trees, on the roof, live in a highrise at tonguepoint?\n\nToo many. And too many times, that person was me.\n\nThe hardest thing, letting people in? No. The hardest lesson I ever learned was how to keep people out. A lesson I learned far too late, and one that will never do me any good now." ]	1
	[WP] Your officemates tell you your workspace is haunted. During a particularly stressful day, in a fit of frustration you jokingly perform an impromptu summoning ritual asking the ghosts for aid. A moment later, a cold hand touches your shoulder and a voice asks "How can we help you?"	[ "\"Right in between the eyes! I swear to God!\" Jake said as he hit himself between the eyes with the pen he had been twirling in his fingers. \n\n\"You're telling me the last guy quit because a ghost slammed a staple between his eyes?\" I said mildly chuckling. All of my coworkers have been on this silly joke of telling me my tiny office was haunted. \n\n\"Swear to it man. Poor guy grabbed his shit and bolted. Ain't seen him sense.\" \n\n\"Yeah okay. I'll just go ahead and start my day off by confronting the ghost. I'm not scared of him!\" I boasted as I walked into my new office. Today was my first day. I'll be damned if I let these guys think I'm some idiot going to fall for their silly joke. \n\n\"Office ghost! Office Ghost! I demand you to come out of hiding!\" At the same time I dump out a pen cup acting like something else might be in there. I pick up the stapler on the desk and hold it up like a priest holding a cross. \"I demand thee to come out and only to do as I say!\" Proceeded by throwing the stapler on the desk and turn to Jake. \n\n\"Hell you might be on to something.\" Jake laughed as he walked out of my office. \n\nI flopped down in my chair throwing my feet up on the desk admiring my new ten foot by eight foot domain. \n\nAll of a sudden I feel a slight cold touch on my shoulder. \n\n\"No Jake the ghost hasn't got me yet.\" I said as I spun the chair around. What I seen though was not Jake. It was three pale looking children. \n\n\"How may we help you?\" Asked what looked like to be the oldest. \n\n\"Very funny guys. Trick the new guy day huh?\" I laughed. \n\n\"What's funny?\" Jake asked as he poked his head around the opening into my office. \n\n\"These kids. Very funny of you to have these kids in on this.\" I said as I motioned to the three kids still oddly starring at me. \n\n\"What kids?\" Jake said looking right at them. \n\n\"Whatever man.\" The joke was funny the first ten minutes now it's just annoying. \n\n\"He can't see us.\" Said what looked to be the youngest. A little boy with shaggy blonde hair. \n\n\"Now what do you want? You have summoned us. Now we have to do as you say.\" Said the third one. A little girl with curly blonde hair wearing an old blue dress. \n\n\"Kiddos I have a lot to do. If you could go back to wherever you came from and cut this whole joke that'd be great.\" I said as I swung around back to face the computer on my desk. I didn't hear them leave. \n\n\"Seriously guys leave.\" I whirled around one last time and they were gone. Finally I turn back around and start my work when all of a sudden I feel the worst pain of my life. \n\n\"SON OF A BITCH! I just got stung!\" I screamed reaching up to where I felt the new sting. And I'll be damned. There was a staple wedged right between my eyes. \n\nEdit: Spelling" ]	1
	[WP] It becomes a societal norm for men and women to marry their same sex best friends for tax benefits, yet they still have outside sexual partners.	[ "Thud! Thud! Thud! The repetitive drumming caused by the headboard banging against the wall echoed throughout the apartment, occasionally accompanied by a grunt or groan. \n\n\"Hey! Todd! Can you keep it quiet?\" I yell across the apartment. \"I'm trying to work on my term paper!\" I turn around to face back towards my computer screen, and try to ignore the giggles coming from across the apartment. The banging had stopped, at least for a moment. \"Now... where was I?\" I mutter under my breath, attempting to pick up where I had left off. Reaching over, I grab my coffee and take a sip as I attempt to regain focus. Hour thirteen... page 4... I think to myself, wow. I uh... wow. Okay, maybe if I paced around, that'd help me think and focus, I assure myself. Standing up, I begin to pace, putting one step before the other, across the living room back and forth by my desk. Thud! Thud! Thud!\n\n\"Todd! Relax man! I need to focus!\" I yell again, noticeably more irritated. The thumping stops again, and more giggles ensue. I pick up the coffee, and take a swig from it, its been cold awhile, but I don't even notice, my thoughts clouded by the looming due date of the term paper. I run my hand through my unkempt hair, this must have been the hundredth time this hour. Thoughts of what I could write about flutter through my mind, each detail less relevant than the last, desperately hoping one of them will give me a few pages worth of material for the paper. I reach over to the stack of books I had picked up from the library while I was researching my topic, the aftermath of Alexander the Great's death, hoping one will spark an idea to save my paper.\n\nEnveloped in my work, I don't even notice the movement behind me as someone's hands fall over my eyes. \"Hello Becky\" I say calmly.\n\n\"Hey Benny!\" replies Becky, Todd's extramarital partner. \"Hows the paper going?\"\n\n\"Great Becky, wheres Todd?\"\n\n\"He's in the bathroom, he'll be right out! Whatchya writing about?\" Asks becky, inquisitively.\n\n\"The collapse of Alexander's empire after his death\" I say, dismissively.\n\n\"Ooooh! Didn't he get exiled a bunch to some island?\"\n\n\"No, that's Bonaparte.\"\n\n\"Oh. Right.\" She said, already having lost her attention. \"Well, Todd and I were gonna go to the bar, wanna come?\"\n\n\"Can't, pretty swamped with this paper right now, Becky\" I state.\n\n\"Come on Ben, you've been at it since before I woke up! Take a break! Live a little!\" Todd had apparently finished up in the bathroom and had come out to join us in the living room.\n\n\"You woke up at three in the afternoon Todd, that hardly says anything.\"\n\n\"Oh. Right. Still, take a break! Maybe you'll find someone you like at the bar! Hey, did we run out of milk?\" Todd adds, rummaging through the fridge.\n\n\"Check the fridge door.\"\n\n\"Oh, thanks!\" He replies, opening a cupboard and grabbing himself a glass and filling it before rejoining us in the living room. \"It'll be great, the three of us! C'mon, you need a rest Ben! Maybe some fresh air and a new start will help you think!\" He says before taking a drink and promptly spitting it across the entire living room, \"Its spoiled!\" he spits out, along with the remainder of the milk, as Becky lets out a small gasp of surprise and smacks Todd's arm for spitting everywhere.\n\n\"Oh. Hey Todd, wanna grab some milk on your way back?\" I say, dryly. \n\n\"Yeah, 2% though this time, none of that skim milk nonsense Ben!\"\n\n\"Sure, whatever, you two have fun at the bar!\" I say, hoping they forget about their standing offer, and turning back to my paper.\n\n\"Come on Ben, you don't have to come and drink, but at least walk to the bar with us! Get some fresh air!\"\n\nLooking at my paper, and back at Todd, i reluctantly hit save, and stand up. \"Fine, but just to the bar door and then I'm coming right back. I'm not staying.\" I state.\n\n\"To the door and back!\" Todd shouts, and with that, he swings the doorway open and races out the door. Exchanging eye rolls with Becky, we make our ways out and down the flight of stairs, trailing Todd out onto the street. We walk a ways, chatting about various topics as we go the quarter mile walk to our favorite bar. \"Hey Ben, how 'bout that?\" Todd prompts, nudging me with his elbow and pointing to the entrance of the bar. Looking ahead, I freeze. \n\n\"Nope, I'm out of here\" I say, quickly turning around from the woman who just entered the bar.\n\n\"Not so fast, Ben!\" Todd says, grabbing my arms. \"You haven't seen her in two years! You should talk to her!\" \n\n\"Not a chance! There's no way I'm going to go talk to her!\"\n\n\"What's going on?\" Becky asks, inquisitively.\n\n\"Ben's Ex from freshman and sophomore year just went into our bar\" explains Todd.\n\n\"Whats the big deal with that?\"\n\n\"She dumped him halfway through sophomore year when she went abroad for the semester. Long distance wasn't for her.\" He further explained, before turning back to me and adding, \"but now that's all done and over with! You two were great together! Do it Ben!\"\n\n\"I uh... I don't think I can.\"\n\n\"Nonsense! We're going for it!\" Todd declares, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me into the bar. Looking around quickly, he spots her, sitting by the bar with one of her friends. \"Hey Becky, can you find us a table for a minute?\" \n\n\"Sure! You two have fun!\" Becky says, running off and out of sight. Before I can stop him, Todd drags me along until we're just behind my ex, and reaches up to tap her on the shoulder.\n\nShe turns around, looking up at Todd, who says cheerfully, \"Have you met, Ben?\" Her eyes flicker away from him and turn to me, a small smile creeping up on her lips." ]	1
	[WP] You are a superhero who eats through your hands. Your nemesis is a millionaire with a rags-to-riches background.	[ "So throughout the course of my life, I've learned that you need to be careful what you wish for. You see, when I was young, I liked to eat with my hands. Forks scared me because I once stabbed my tongue with a fork and it bled a lot. One day, I was eating with my hands and even though my mother repeatedly told me not to, I continued to do so. Frustrated, she grounded me to my room. In our house, being grounded meant no electronics or any forms of entertainment. All I had in my room was a shitty analog clock. Bored out of my mind, I recalled a rumor that my elementary classmates had shared with me. They had told me that if you make a wish at exactly 11:11PM at night, your wish would come true. Overcome with newfound hope, I did exactly that. I wished that I could eat with my hands. To my great surprise, I found that my wish had come true the next morning. However, it turns out that whoever was in charge of granting these wishes interpreted my wish differently than I had. I awoke that morning with the ability to eat food through my hands; as in, my hands had replaced the function of my mouth. I was overcome with emotion. My wish had come true, but did I really want this? That was the story of how I started eating with my hands. Ten years later, I was homeless and full of regret. -" ]	1
	[WP] Humanity has developed a condition causing them to lose half their IQ everytime they sneeze. Fortunately, sneezing is extremely uncommon, unfortunately, humanity just discovered the common flu.	[ "“What happens when someone’s IQ gets to 0? You think they die?” asked the curious 10-year-old boy, Jacob.\n\n“Well,” replied his father, “We don’t really know. After all, since your IQ only can divide in half when you sneeze, you’ll never actually get to 0. Your IQ will get lower and lower but you’ll always have some sort of IQ. You won’t be brain dead.”\n \n“What happened to that guy on the news then?”\n\nEveryone had seen it. The man who sneezed. One day he was living a perfectly normal life, 30 seconds and five sneezes later he’s in a coma without any brain activity at all. Scientists said his brain cells died quicker than they could multiply. \n\nEveryone knew sneezing was bad, but no one really feared it. It was like a zombie apocalypse. It was interesting and scary but it wasn’t a real threat. Until now.\n\nThe man in a coma had been receiving basically 24/7 media coverage for his sudden case of sneezing. The violent convulsions of the torso and the spraying of body fluids out of the nose and mouth made the new virus that the man had contracted was very contagious. Thus, the man was completely quarantined; doctors could only check his vital signs wearing hazmat suits in case he suddenly woke up and began spraying the dreaded virus everywhere. \n\n“I don’t know what happened to him. No one does,” the boy’s father replied. He had been studying the body of the victim of the virus as part of a research team flown out to the hospital in Berlin where the man was being monitored.\n \nHe heard the leader of his team address him over the PA system in the hospital one day.\n\n“James Prewitt, I need you in the conference room ASAP for a team meeting.”\n\n“Gentleman,” said the the leader once the door of the conference room was closed, “I think it’s clear we won’t be figuring out this virus anytime soon. We need ideas.”\n\nOne member of the team spoke up. “Dr. Martin, if I may.” The doctor nodded at him to continue. “Well, we have all agreed that the virus is likely rooted in the respiratory system of its host, probably in the lungs.” \n\n“That doesn’t do us much good though. Until the patient awakens from his coma, we can’t get him to agree to surgery. And that could take years.”\n\n“Can we contact his family?”\n\n“He’s an illegal immigrant. They came here from Greece, to escape the economic corruption. They’re not documented, so there’s no way to track his family.”\n\n“Can’t we just do surgery anyway?” asked a young doctor who everyone generally disliked. “He won’t know.” James rolled his eyes.\n\n“No. Never.” replied Dr. Martin. “If anyone finds out that we performed an unauthorized surgery on a patient in a coma, we and this hospital will be shut down. We can’t be responsible for that.”\n\nThe meeting continued along this line for a while, and no progress was made. James was exhausted. He hated Berlin. Not the city, but he hated being stuck in this hospital doing research and studying this patient. James had been here for two months, and he wanted nothing more than to be home. He wanted to go home to his pregnant wife. He wanted to see his son. Hell, he missed his boring old desk job compared to sitting in a bland white room all day. At least he had friends at that job. He felt himself going insane because of his lack of interesting interaction with other people. He hadn’t laughed in months. Every single conversation he had was work work work. No play. No fun.\n \n”It would be so much easier if the patient just died and the doctors could perform an autopsy,” James thought.\n\nBut that’s it. James had it. He was going to pull the plug on the patient’s life support. It would be easy. \n\n“I could do it right now,” thought James, so he did. He stood up and briskly walked over to the booth where the patient was located. The digital clock on the wall read 1:21 AM. All the other members of the team were downstairs in their sleeping quarters. James read a sign on the door of the patient’s booth. \n“DANGER: QUARANTINED ZONE. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. DO NOT ENTER THIS BOOTH WITHOUT A HAZMAT SUIT.” James opened the door and stepped inside. \n\nFor some reason, he expected it to be extremely cold in the booth, but it was not. He approached the screen where the life support automatically tracked the patient’s vitals. He touched the screen to open the settings. A new menu popped up. James pressed the final option, labeled “END LIFE SUPPORT.” The screen turned a bright green color and a black box appeared which read “TO CONTINUE, ENTER ADMINISTRATOR PASSWORD.” \n\nThis was easy—the password was Dr. Martin’s daughter’s name. Danielle. Didn’t seem like much of a password. James entered it in the box and pressed ok. The life support system shut down instantly. The patient was dead, just like that. James exited the booth and was hit with a wave of worry. Were there security cameras? Does it count as murder if the person’s dead? As he continued downstairs to the sleeping quarters. He thought about how one sneeze could change a person’s life like that.\n\nThe next morning, not surprisingly, there was lots of confusion. A new meeting was called. \n\nDr. Martin addressed his research team. “Due to unknown circumstances, the life support on our patient has failed. The silver lining here is that now we can perform an autopsy and detect the source of the virus that ruined this man’s life. We have a certified autopsy technician who is very good at his job to come in and perform the autopsy. Would anyone like to volunteer to assist Dr. Best in this autopsy?\n\nThe room was silent for a good 10 seconds. Then, the silence was broken by the sound of James Prewitt sneezing.\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] A Kingdom is well known for its benevolent Rulers. Little does everyone know, however, this is because a mysterious being appears at the King's bedside at night. It provides advice and guidance as it sees fit, but also uses violence and intimidation when necessary.	[ "The crowds cheer me as I wave from the balcony. How I have dreamed of leaping from this very spot. Of feeling the wind rushing past as the cobblestones hurry to me up with me. But I cannot. I would not leave my son, not yet a man, to deal with this curse. I will endure. I must endure. For myself, my son, and my kingdom. \n\nI meet an ambassador at the evening feast. He is from some country I only vaguely recognize. He says the words of friendship and diplomacy as he must. His country does not border mine and so I do not care for his friendship. What I say, however, is that we are always pleased to make new friends. I drink too much wine at dinner. It's the only way I can sleep.\n\nMy Queen worries for me. She has said before that too much wine can become an awful habit. Her father was a drunk. She has never moved past that though she has been my bride for these past fifteen years. The amber is beginning to fade from her hair but her childhood pains are still as bright and fresh as when they were new. I pat her hand and tell her I love her and I lie saying I will curtail my drinking.\n\nThe feast ends and I retire to my chamber. The fire is burning low in the hearth. The guard stands outside my door. The chambermaid asks if I need anything else. I think about asking her to share my bed before I realize the wine has taken that from me. I tell he no and she curtsies before she leaves. \n\nI lay in bed, staring at the coals in the hearth. I see the flames begin to rise up and swirl into the shake of a man. The figure coalesces slowly. It begins a shambling walk across the room towards me. I feel the food and drink in my gullet threaten to revolt. I hold it back. \n\nThe Figure of Flame, as I think of him, stop inches from my bed. The blanket all have slight singes on that side. The chambermaid never asks about them but I know she has seen them. I am a beloved King and she is a servant, so she assumes I'm doing kingly duties which she will never understand. \n\nThe voice always startles me when it comes. It is the updraft of a bonfire, the popping of burning wood, and the rattle of spent coals. I will never forget that sound for as long as live even if my visitor were to never appear again. \n\n\"The Ambassador.\" Even through my fatigue and the wine, I am as awake as I have ever been, hanging on every word. \"You shall offer a trade deal. His country produces lumber of high quality and far in excess of what they need.\"\n\n\"What shall I offer in return?\"\n\n\"Your wool is what they seek. They cannot raise enough sheep and they need to clothe their people.\"\n\n\"His country is far away. There are other lands and kingdoms between us. How am I to make this trade?\"\n\nThe Figure blazed before me. \"You will sign treaties! You will offer to pay a toll for safe passage! You will send diplomats to clear the way!\"\n\n\"What if the other rulers do not agree? Or what if they ask too high a price?\" I tried to force courage into my words. \n\n\"You will overcome these obstacles. Or I will have my vengeance. I will burn everything you love while you watch your kingdom slowly turn to ash. When the smoke is thick enough to clog your nostrils and when the soot is deep enough to fill this castle and when you are the only living thing in this petty kingdom, I will drag you down to a fire eternal. You will beg for any mercy. You will beg to be sent to oblivion. You will beg for even a moment's reprieve. But none shall come.\"\n\n\"I understand.\" It was all I could say. Once I had tried to defy the Figure. After all, who was he to dictate to a king? He opened a portal to his place of eternal flames and showed me what suffering awaited me. I defied him no more. \n\nI make the trade agreement. I sent diplomats to secure the route. It goes better than I had dared hope. Within a year, my people are praising my foresight. Construction is booming with the new lumber. By freeing up more of the population from felling trees, we have had a boom in new businesses as well. Nobody asks why the skin on my right arm is glossy and tight, as though burned. " ]	1
	[WP] At the closing ceremony of the Olympics, security measures fail and all hell breaks loose.	[ "At the closing ceremony of the Olympics, the security measures failed and all hell broke loose. They didn't listen to us. The damned International Olympic Committee, hosting the Games at a place which they knew was woefully unprepared to host such an event. Our protests were just bees buzzing to their willfully ignorant ears. Even when the pool turned green and Lochte's conflict with the police. The athlete's housing fell apart too! Pipes were bursting and a balcony simply collapsed and fell, pushing the balconies below down to the road with it. It was all a big nightmare for everyone involved. But we didn't expect what had happened next as the closing ceremony started. The streets of Rio were crowed with onlookers to watch the parade. Everything was going well; people were cheering, drinking wine, and enjoying the local cuisine. Amidst the bustling hodgepodge of people in the dim streets, a riot began. The poor and disenfranchised of Brazil, raggedy citizens who lived in the favelas were stampeding through the crowds and trampling the spectators. They were finally starting their revolution, it seemed, with their loud, but incoherent chants. They were tired of the favelas, the corruption, and the horrible leadership despite not having Rouseff anymore at the presidency. People were screaming, begging for help. Few got out safely. After a while, cops and riot control arrived on the scene in their typical black, armored vans. Even with their assault rifles, sturdy riot shields, and thick armor, they couldn't fend off the protesters. Wave after wave of the mob crushed them... literally as if they were a pack of wildebeests running from hungry lions. It was then that we realized what was truly going on.\n\n\nAn incoherent mess of running corpses soaked in blood, vomit, and drool was chasing them. Bloated babies with microcephaly and adults with enlarged heads. Our worst nightmare had finally come with its full wrath. Zika. It was all out fault. God have mercy on our souls. As I sit in this closet, typing what I can, the things... zombies are outside, banging on the door as I try to spread a message of what has happened here. I don't know what to do now other than to hope for a quick death.\n\n\nWe should have listened............." ]	1
	[WP] Demons hide in brain crevices, the more intelligent you are, the more prone to possessions you become. You are the captain of a special anti-demon squad consisting of dumbest people alive during a demon invasion.	[ "We're fighting a war.\n\nThe words echoed in my head as I stuffed the cross back into my pack and pulled out the gun. The handle was was big, I could just barely fit my hand around it, but the bigger it was, the better it'd work, right? It had to work, 'cause this was a war. My dad always said that, whenever things got rough and the power went out, or when we had to bring things to the pawn shop to sell, or when we had to skip a dinner. He told me bad people were out to get us, and they'd wear any number of masks; sometimes they'd be scruffy and talk funny, sometimes they'd be dressed nicer, they could be a man or a woman, black or white or brown. You could never tell, he'd said.\n\nHe didn't know how right he was.\n\n\"Mr. Worrell, your left!\" I called out, and the lanky man turned without hesitation. His spin sent him reeling, and the resulting fall caused the pouncing creature to leap over him, tumbling down the stairs. I couldn't help but laugh as he blinked a few times, getting up and dusting himself off while shaking his head.\n\n\"Man, that sure was a close call! Y'know, I'm startin' t'think these new shoes, produced 'specially by Nike, are gonna be my new lucky shoes! That's 'bout the fifth time I dun slipped in 'em, but I ain't hurt nothin' yet. Usually I get bruises on account o' my falls, but these'uns are workin' out just fine, knowhutImean?\"\n\nI give him a smile and a nod, looking over to where Mr. Rodriguez was doing whatever he was doing. He talked like my dad used to talk, sometimes; I watched as the red-skinned hulk of a thing took another swing at him, missing like always.\n\n\"Y'gonna... gonna try'n take a poke a'ME?!\" he slurred, taking a boxing stance like the ones Popeye always used. For some reason, these things couldn't deal with anything out of a cartoon, it looked like. \"I'm'na show YOU fucks how t'REALLY fight, 'kay? I... I...\" he held up a finger for a second, the horned creature actually tilting its head to one side in confusion, before the aging Mexican man bent double and puked all over the floor. \"'kay, NOW!\" he bellowed, as if nothing had happened, standing up suddenly and taking a leap towards the creature; its face still twisted in a look of disgust, it toppled like a sack of potatoes. Mr. Rodriguez was going to be fine.\n\nLenny, though, was another story. I pumped my gun a couple of times, running over to where the behemoth of a man was swinging his arms wildly. The pack surrounding him was being kept back for now, but he needed my help; I put a finger over my lips as I pumped a few more times behind a column, the sound barely audible over the chaos.\n\n\"No... no! No touch, no touch!\" Lenny shouted, accidentally backhanding one of the creatures and cutting himself on its fangs. \"Owww...\" he whined, instinctively drawing his hand to his mouth to lick the wound. I leapt out from behind the column, the spray of super-soaker-propelled holy water sizzling on contact with the corrupted person's exposed flesh as the thing howled in inhuman pain.\n\n\"Lenny! Stranger danger!\" I yelled, pumping as fast as my arms would let me. Only a couple more sprays like that, then we'd need to stop for me to resupply; we'd have to rely on the crosses and the sanctified salt, or risk trying to remember a verse. Luckily, the giant of a man was ready, and at my signal, he sprung onto one of the demons, pain momentarily forgotten amid cries of \"No no no no no!\" as he pummeled the hapless creature.\n\nI wasn't quite done pumping when Mr. Worrell came barreling through, accidentally shoving the last of the three demons off balance as he tripped yet again over his own shoe laces. If it didn't seem to work so well in our favor, I'd have suggested he try the velcro straps like mine. As it stands, that last few precious seconds was just enough, and I caught the creature on the rebound with another healthy spray of holy water. Well, I mused, healthy for one of us, at least.\n\n\"Everybody good? Where's Nina?\" I looked around, seeing her cowering near the corner of the store. We'd managed to clear enough of them out, it should be safe now. I walked over, hesitantly tapping her on the shoulder, and she flinched at the contact. Slowly, she turned to see us, her tears quickly disappearing as she realized we'd won. I held out my hand, and took it with a small, timid \"thank you\".\n\n\"Hehehe... piggy back ride!\" Lenny cried joyfully, the scrapes and bruises from his scuffle not seeming to bother him as he hefted me up in one arm, Nina in the other. We each grabbed onto one of his shoulders, and as a group we headed towards the entrance to secure it. This would make a good resupply depot, now that we'd cleared it out.\n\n\"Where do ya reckon we oughta go next, Bobby?\" Mr. Worrell asked, stopping for a second in the tools aisle to pick up a hammer and some nails. \"I know you was thinkin' of maybe goin' to the school? Or goin' to the camp...\"\n\n\"You c'n bite m'fat Mexican ass an' go straight t'Hell! I'm no'gunna... I needa... drink,\" Mr. Rodriguez volunteered. I agreed, we did need to take a bit to restock from this place ourselves, some of us more than others.\n\n\"I think the school is probably best, we can defend it easier than the cabins,\" I reasoned, the group seemingly willing to just listen to whatever I said. Just as well; I didn't feel like sharing that the older boys picking on me on the bus ride last year was a major reason I didn't want to go back to the camp. Lenny let Nina and I down, and I let her watch Lenny and Mr. Worrell take turns smacking their thumbs with a hammer while I went to go find some bottled water to bless. She'd be fine, I was sure.\n\nI have to get her trained fast, I thought to myself, walking towards the beverage aisle. I'm not going to be 7 forever.", "\"Uh, dude, but everyone loves Avicii,\" said Ralph, pulling his neon green wife beater over his muscular chest in the gym locker room. \n\nThe child, wearing a MENSA cap pulled the hammer back on his 44 Magnum. His demonic grin had been replaced with a frustrated grimace. \n\n\"Maybe I'm not articulating myself correctly, if you get the right answer, I point the gun at my head, and there's a one-in six chance you won't get another question. If you get the incorrect answer, there's a one-in-six change your game is over. Now, for the last time, what is six times seven?\"\n\n\"Listen little guy, I'm not sure what this is about, but you've got to take my advice on this one, wake me up is the best song song since sliced bread.\" \n\n\"What's the point.\" \n\nThe kid sighed before pointing the gun at his own head and quickly pulling the trigger three times in a row. The hammer hit home. Ralph was still trying to figure out what was going on, long after the twitching had stopped. \n\n\"What's taking you so long?\" Shouted Brody from the door to the locker rooms. \n\n\"What's the best track on avicii's album, true?\"\n\n\"Long road to hell, obviously.\" \n\n\"God, I love that song.\" \n\n", "\"Of course it's flat! You think some egghead at NASA is gonna admit they got duped too? Hell no! They send those shuttle up to aim the earthquake generator they put up in the eighties. If the public found out, they'd flip.\n\nJohnson and Martinez were arguing again. I'd listened to them for three years. I started out like them - just a raw recruit, trying to be helpful. I had answered an ad for X-Ray glasses in a comic book when I was ten. That drew the attention of some people. Years later I found out they had been watching me since then. Every time I ordered something from an infomercial, they knew. Every time I bought the extended warranty on my electronics, they knew. Every time I got the undercoating, they knew.\n\nI barely squeaked through high school. After graduation, I had a job at my uncle's construction business. After a few years of hefting concrete mix and hauling tool bags straight up fifty feet, I was ready for a change. The people that had been watching me saw that. They knew just how to hit me: I started seeing ads and commercials for a \"university\" aimed at guys who didn't do so good in school but wanted to try to make up for that. After a couple of weeks, I called them up. The rest is history. \n\nI got promoted to Lieutenant of my squad a couple of months ago. We were very specialized. See, the smarter a person is, the more likely they'll get possessed by demons. Oh, I know you're thinking demons aren't real - but I've fought some flaming assholes and I can promise you they are very real. My squad has people that aren't bright. I'm just barely smart enough to run this thing and that makes everyone suspicious of me. \n\n\"Johnson! Martinez!\" I barked as I walked up to the front of the room. \n\n\"What?!\" They shouted in unison. \n\n\"Shut up and sit down. We've got a mission. A bunch of demons got loose at the mall over in the west side. We gave to go clean it up.\"\n\n\"Why's it always us boss?\" Carla asked. She was the newest member of the team. She failed cosmetology school. Twice. \n\n\"Because it's our job.\" I'd had this same conversation with her on every mission for the last six weeks. \n\n\"But can't someone else do it?\" Carla's started whining. I started getting angry. \n\n\"Honey, we're too dumb to be possessed. Anyone else goes in and it makes the problem bigger. You wouldn't want some Army guy driving a tank to suddenly be possessed by a demon, would you?\" Sheila wasn't very bright, obviously, but she did have a way of speaking to someone that made you feel good. \n\n\"I guess not?\" Carla said. \n\n\"Ok, let's load up on holy water and scripture. We roll out in five.\" I started to leave. \n\n\"Hey boss, if we're going to the mall, can we get Cinnabon?\" Johnson asked. \n\n\"Oh yeah, I love those things\" \"Me too!\" \"That would be awesome.\"\n\n\"Fine. After the demons are defeated, we'll get Cinnabon. Who has the car keys?\"\n\nWe all stared at each other. ", "\"PENIS\"\n\nIt was drawing towards the end of the day.\n\n\"PENIS\"\n\nThe squad was taking shelter in the shell of an apartment block.\n\n\"PEENIS\"\n\nThis was important because it was nearing dinnertime.\n\n\"PEEENIS\"\n\nAnd you should never try to eat a solid meal while standing up. Liquid is ok though.\n\n\"PEEEENIS\"\n\nI checked my watch to see if it was closer to dinnertime yet.\n\n\"PEEEEENIS\"\n\nIt wasn't by much but it was a little closer to the dinnertime bit.\n\n\"PEEEEEEEEEENIS\"\n\nThen again it could be wrong. I'd need to check my phone to find out but we can't use them on missions. It's too distracting.\n\n\"PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENIS\"\n\nWe could have started cooking already but Amit was insistent that we must wait until dinnertime because dinner was always served at dinnertime.\n\n\"PEEEEeEeEEEeEeEEEEeeEeENIIIIIIIIIIIS\"\n\nChou thought that any time could be dinnertime if you wanted it to. And that the moving things on our watches didn't actually control when dinnertime was, but were more like reminders of dinnertime.\n\n\"P-P-P-P-PEEEEEeeeEEeeeEeEEeEeEEeeEeeEEENNNIIIUUUUUAAAAAS\"\n\nNathan thought that we should just fucking get some dinner already and that the boss was a shitcunt for not making dinner appear and that fucking someone should go get beers because even though there fucking was a lot of fucking possessed near the last grog shop he fucking reckons they were all fucking sleepy demons and they fucking wouldn't even fucking notice us because it's very fucking dark cunt.\n\n\"PEEAAANUUUUTS\"\n\n\"No you fucking idiot\" said Nathan, \"we're playing fucking 'penis' not peanuts you fucking retart.\"\n\n\"Oh, sorry\" said Paulu \"did you guys want to see my new tattoo while we wait for-\"\n\n\"HUMAN, SURRENDER YOUR BODY LIKE THIS ONE BEFORE YOU AND-\"\n\nChou's cattle prod wizzled and made sparks while it 'ejected' the demon from the nice person. There was a burning smell.\n\n\"Yeah Paulu\" said Chou, \"show me your new tattoo.\"\n\n\"Yeah sure.\" Paulu rolled up one sleeve. \"It's got a Jesus woman on it and a gun. The gun is big, like the woman's tits.\"\n\n\"That is a good tattoo\" said Amit. \"Captain, have you see Chou's tattoo?\"\n\n\"Chou has a tattoo?\" said Paulu \"I thought we were looking at my tattoo?\"\n\n\"Oh yeah this is my tattoo\" said Chou \"It's a big red man with a book in his hand and a big stick.\"\n\n\"That fucking tattoo would be better if the stick was like a fucking stick of weed cunt\" said Nathan.\n\n\"What is a weed stick?\" said Amit. \" I have never seen a stick of weed. It usually looks like small bits of green in a very not-a-stick-shape.\"\n\n\"It's a fucking word for buying weed but fucking small bit of.\"\n\n\"So a stick of weed is not a stick?\"\n\n\"No, but is a stick. Just not a stick. Still a fucking stick though.\"\n\n\"But is it a stick made out of tree that is made of weed or is it something that is not a stick?\"\n\n\"Yes\" \n\n\"Oh, that makes sense.\"\n\n\"Wait, it does?\"\n\nThis triggered my alertness, what was left of it in this chemically-afflicted state. We had to manage something called 'self-awareness' so that we don't get too much thoughts in the brain and the demons come. The demons are not nice when they come. They pack into your brain like a clown car and make noise and scream and try to make you do things like move your arms and legs and stab your mother in the throat with a pencil.\n\nNathan continued to think, 'but how does that concept even make...seeeenss...\"\n\nNathen dozed off as the needle of the doze-off-stuff-that-keeps-us-dumb was pushed into his blood thingy.\n\n\"Captain, how is dinnertime coming?\" said Chou.\n\nI looked at my watch, it was a bit past dinnertime starting but there was still no dinner.\n\n\"I don't know, it is dinnertime now but no dinner.\"\n\n\"Maybe they forgot it's dinnertime now\" said Paulu, shocking another demon that crawled through the front door.\n\n\"They fucking shouldn't\" said Nathan. \"It's dinnertime so it's fucking dinnertime. We fucking lit the fucking fire, the fucking dinnertime bit has been hit by the thing, and its dinnertime. Where's dinnertime?\"\n\n\"Everyone\" I said.\n\n\"Who the fuck is that?\" said Nathan.\n\n\"Nathan\" I said\n\n\"Yep\" said Nathan.\n\n\"Chou\" I said.\n\n\"Yes\" said Chou.\n\n\"Amit!\" said Amit.\n\n\"Yes\" said Paulu.\n\n\"Do you have any dinnertime, Paulu?\" said Amit\n\n\"Guys\" I said. Everyone turned. \"I think I hear dinnertime.\"\n\nSure enough, just overhead was the sound of dinnertime. 136 screaming and howling demons said the chip in my brain telling me the important things I had to know. It also told me that the demons would turn into burgers if we shocked them. I could hear dinnertime above the demons so I trusted that the chip was not as dumb as meeee....\n\nAmit, took the needle out of my thigh.\n\n\"Captain, you fucking almost thought too hard there cunt.\" said Nathan\n\n\"Yeah I did\" I said \"But that's ok because we need to fight demons.\"\n\n\"Yeah\" said Nathan\n\n\"Yeah\" said Paulu.\n\n\"Yeah\" said Amit.\n\n\"Penis\" said Chou.\n\nThis caused everyone, me too, to giggle and for more games of 'penis' but then we all shot up and were ready.\n\n\"Let's go!\" said I.\n\nTaking on demons when they fly is easy. You wait till they come close, then, sparks! Just make sure the person is not too high or they might break their foot or other bone. Sometimes you have to gentle-way catch them as they fall so they land without break. IF they do break though, all good. Government pay for everything. They paid for my new brain they'll pay for some cuntsss.....\n\nNathan pulled the needle out. Two in short time. Not good. But not worry. No worries. Just shocks. Shock demons. Make nice people.\n\nShock demons.\n\nMake nice people.\n\nShock demons.\n\nMake nice people.\n\nShock demons.\n\nMake nice people.\n\nShock demons.\n\nBury the corpses of those who loose their souls entirely to the undead supernatural forces of since long rampant self-replicating parasitic machines.\n\n\"PENIS!\" \n\nGiggle, laugh.\n\n\"DINNERTIME!\"\n\nThe last demon turns nice person, again. The small flying thing lands. Burgers. Burgers in MRE packs. The food the drone brings means this section is cleared and we can restore all our mental faculties. \n\nAt least until the next incursion. ", "Looking for a task force of demon-hunters may seem like an impossible task, but since the previous one went up in flames even before the demon invasion you don't have much choice. Plus, the task becomes much easier when you know where to look. \n \nSocial networks. What else are they for? \n \nPlowing through thousands of hashtags on Facebook is tedious, but someone has to do that job. The fate of humanity is at stake! \n \nThis guy hates Russia for not warning the US about 9/11 since they are 7 hours ahead. Might be trolling, but I shall take note of him. In case he really thinks so he may become the worthiest of us all. \n \nThis one uploaded a photo of him smoking on the gas station with the photo marked #thuglife. A good candidate, but I'm out of people precisely because of someone like him. \n \nThis one is really into conspiracy theories. Nazis, masons, Illuminati, lizardmen... Yep, that's the one. He'll be really easy to recruit. \n \nThis one considers joining Scientology. I'm afraid that he's already lost to our cause. \n \nI've just sent 10,000 friend requests to people with tattoos on their faces. It might just work. \n \n51, 52, 53... yup, the number of hashtags is just fine. She even has #hashtag in her collection. \n \nThis one thinks that Islam is a continent. \n \nThis one wonders if da Vinci met Jesus since both of them lived in the middle Ages. \n \nThis one says he's lucky to be born on his birthday, since it's a 1-in-31 chance. \n \nOver the past two hours, I accumulated over 2000 recruits, but now it's time for a final test: an invitation. \n \n\"Hi, my name is Jordan and you are the Chosen One who is prophesized to save us all from a demon invasion...\" \n \n_______\n[You know what to do.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Scandalist/comments/4n4iu6/authors_message_welcome_new_readers/)", "\"Demons.\"\n\nTod looked at me skeptically. \n\n\"Are those just guys like Darrel, Dwayne, Dwight?\" \n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You know, men with a D in their name.\"\n\nBiff raised his hand. \n\n\"Yes Biff?\" I sighed. \n\n\"What time is it?\"\n\nI checked my watch. \n\n\"1:37\"\n\n\"Made you look!\" exclaimed Biff and Tony in unison. \n\nI turned my attention back to Tod.\n\n\"Do you have any real questions, Tod?\"\n\nTod gazed off into space. \n\n\"Oh,\" he said. \"Why is the sky blue in the daytime, red at night, and gray when I'm in an airplane?\" \n\n---\n\nTo prepare for the attack, I had each member of the squad grill a partner. The general consensus was that this made the squad hungry, so we took a quick break and then got down to business. \n\n\"Stand up, Burt.\"\n\n\"But then I might be up to no good.\"\n\n\"Just stand up.\"\n\nBurt sighed, then told Alice that he couldn't make their date later. \n\n---\n\nFinally, we got to the most important stage: What to do when you found a demon. \n\n\"Tony, what is the first thing to do when you find a demon?\"\n\n\"Say hello?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Tell it to get out of my head?\"\n\n\"You're immune.\"\n\n\"Then why are we hunting them?\"\n\n\"Not everyone is immune. People who are... very smart can be attacked.\"\n\nTony thought for a minute. You could see the wheels turning the wrong way. \n\nSuddenly, he spoke. \n\n\"You aren't going in the field, right?\"\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n\"You aren't immune?\"\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n\"Then how do we know you haven't already been possessed?\"\n\nI sighed and pressed a button on my watch. \n\n\"HQ? Yes, I need some new trainees. These ones are vulnerable.\"\n\n---\n/r/translationlostin, where I may or may not continue this story. " ]	6
	[WP] Write a story in which the main character doesn't feel like participating.	[ "It was June 7, 2009. \n\nEverything was great, but Kyle thought the opposite. Reason was..\n\nHe was stuck in the internet.\nNo, not just metaphorically surfing the web. He was literally surfing in the web with an ASKII surf-board. He could do anything at his will, and if he wans something.. He puts himself in a webpage that allows him to do just that.\nTo Clippy, a little paperclip in the Microsoft Word program, he was a good person. They worked on everything together. Making great things.. Breaking great things.. But after a while, Kyle wasn't into it. He had yet to be discovered inside the bulky Windows XP computer, and eventually he got bored. He wanted POWER.\n\nFast forward a few years, it's January 1^^st , 2016. UNDERTALE had recently been released, and he browsed the internet for more information on the game. He enters his old credit card number, and installs it.\nHe immediately kills everyone, only sparing the main bosses. It was basically a f-cked up neutral run. He reset. Time after time, he reset the game. He was getting bored again. His emotions were basically what Flowey was feeling at first. He'd beaten every game, lost every game. Read every book, BURNED every book. Even Flowey was predictable. Dodge this, attack now.. He was no longer excited. He had nothing else to do. He visited chat sites, and moved from computer to computer. People rejected him over and over again, thinking that he was a virus. They uninstalled him over and over again. Finally, someone emails him to another PC. The email is opened, and he escapes. He is found snooping around on Reddit, and looks at a post made by \"iiDapperDog\". It sent chills down his back, and he attempted to leave. But then, the user launches CCleaner, and attempts to delete him. Stupidly, the user didn't unplug his iPhone 6s. Kyle had entered the phone, where he rested in Instagram, waiting for a famous person to post. But it never happened. He explored the phone while it was off, but then the phone turns on. I saw him in my phone.\n\n\n\n(Please don't hate, this was made by a 10 year old, okay? Geez.)", " Once upon a time, there lived a simple man named Todd. Todd dwelt in the modern era, where tales of magical beasts were simply fantasies. No more were the days where brave knights were enlisted to slay mighty dragons and rescue helpless nobles, nor were great and powerful wizards sought out for guidance via cryptic prophecies. Or so the people thought. Little did Todd know that deep beneath the earth, a dark slumbering force would soon awaken. And he, the Chosen One, would be humanity’s only chance at salva –\n\n“Hey man, I’m really not in the mood for this right now. Could we maybe do this later?”\n\nExcuse me?\n\n“I’ve just got a lot on my plate at the moment, y’know? I’m not, like, super stoked about having to go on some big magical quest or whatever.”\n\nIf you refuse, everything you know will soon be engulfed by darkness! The Chosen One can’t simply choose to slack off on his divinely appointed duty to save the world.\n\n“Well, can you maybe find a different Chosen One? I’ve got this paper due tomorrow, and it’s worth like, 30% of my final grade.”\n\n…30%?\n\n“Yeah, man.”\n\n… Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Surely I can find someone willing to go on a perilous adventure of epic proportions.\n\n“Thanks man, I owe you one.”\n\nWhat are you doing?\n\n“Hmm?”\n\nI thought you had a highly important essay to write. Are you playing Skyrim?\n\n“I have really poor self-control.”\n\nUgh, for the love of… You know what?\n\n Unfortunately, due to Todd’s arrogance and childish rebellion against the divine forces that had designated him for the heroic purpose of saving all of humanity, the dark beings had awoken and had already begun to wreak havoc on his beloved city. However, if he had any remaining shred of dignity within him, Todd would face his destiny and seek out the magical sword bestowed with the power to slay great evil. \n\n“Woah. Not cool, man.”\n\nSee, this is what happens when you procrastinate on your responsibilities. Now, are you going to save the day or spend your remaining moments playing some trivial video game?\n\nTodd gave an exasperated sigh.\n\n“I guess I can go on a hunt for this mystical sword. But if I do, do you think you could maybe use your omnipotent narrator powers to give me an extension on this paper?”\n\nDeal.\n\n“Sweet. Now, where am I gonna find this sword?”\n\n In order to find the bane of evil, Todd would have to consult the all-knowing Oracle. To find her, he would face many perils. He would have to traverse the mighty rapids of Rak'kela, then he would need to scale the treacherous mountains of – \n\n“Uhh, do y’think you could just maybe… tell me where the sword is yourself?”\n\n… It’s in Kansas.\n\n“Thanks bro. I’ll look up some flight times ASAP.”\n", "THE ADVENTURES OF BEN KING, THE IT GUY WHO'S ALWAYS LATE TO WORK. ISSUE #419: THE PALE LADY.\n----------------------------------------------\n\nBen King happened to be minding his own business, sipping on an extra foamy hot chocolate from McDonald's, and crossing the street one day when a woman suddenly fell from the street one day, into his arms. For a man that happened to be late for work and for a chewing out from his supervisor, this came as an annoying surprise.\n\nThe pale woman, with ethereal blonde hair and skin as pale ass pure snow, stroked his dark face with a panicked expression upon her complexion. Ben raised an eyebrow and continued to sip on the cup of hot chocolate.\n\n\"Please, stranger from another world! You must save me! The Dark Ones are pursuing me! There's no time to explain.\"\n\nBen looked at the beautiful woman from her bare, clean feet all the way to her stunning, model-like face. Her bright, blue eyes screamed with fear and pain, as if they'd seen otherworldly horrors that were truly beyond description.\n\n\"Oh fuck this shit,\" Ben said, dropping the woman onto the dark concrete street and heading off to work.\n\nThe woman reached out her hand at her chosen one, her jaw dropping with his swift, solid rejection. She turned around and saw her shadow grasp at her ankle, dragging her down into the Earth, never to be seen again.\n\nThe man turned around to the sight of a slender, fair hand flailing around wildly. The same hand that had fondled and sort of molested his face a while earlier in a way that made him felt really, really uncomfortable.\n\n\"That's some freaky magic bullshit right there. Man, this city's fucking weird.\"", "The clock ticked with each passing second. But it couldn't tick fast enough. She was awaiting the end of class, the end of the school week. Her ears were filled with the sound of pencils scratching and scribbling on pieces of white paper. She leaned her head onto her balled-up fist. She never liked tests. She hardly had room to relax on her small island of a desk, which was only exaggerated by the tower of books, let alone the notebooks and pencils. She already closed her eyes with resignation to an endless class when the bell resounded throughout the complex, ending as jarringly as it began. She sighed as she stood up, collected her belongings in a series of fluid motions. Come to think of it, she'd never liked the bell, either. \n\nShe was only just reaching for the third book in her stack when a voice echoed from behind her. A boy. “You’re bored here, aren’t you?” He asked in a sly and condescending tone, seemingly lording the fact over her. “I’m not interested.” She stated, going back to gathering her positions. “You didn’t even listen to what I had to say.” The boy responded, complaining like a small child. “I don’t need to. I’m happy here.” “You can’t possibly believe that.” He argued. This was not a rare occurrence. Quite the opposite, in truth. And she was tired of it. “Go home.” She commanded, making her way to the classroom door.\n\nPeople would ask her things like that often. She, obviously, wasn’t happy. This life was as boring as the next, but she’d be damned if she’d risk her life for some adventure in a far off land. She travelled home in the scorching inferno of the summer sun, which seemed intent on blinding her and everyone around her. She struggled to maintain the tower of her possessions as she took one step after the next. And then the same frantic, running footsteps came running from behind her. “You don’t know what you’re passing up!” The voice, the SAME voice, decided to come calling yet again. She gritted her teeth as she placed her belongings on the dry and cracked sidewalk.\n\n “Look,” She snapped. When she turned around, they were face to face. She wanted more than anything to punch this boy, square in the jaw. “I told you before. I’m not interested. Please, let me reiterate, so even someone as THICK as YOU can understand.” She was done putting up with this. More than done. If anyone in her life had her legitimately considering murder, it was him: The bane of her existence. “I don’t want to become a magical girl. I neither have, nor want, any special powers. I don’t have any wishes to grant. I do NOT wield the sacred weapon of whatever-the-hell. I am NOT from the tribe of ancients, I have NO desire for change, beyond you leaving me alone, and I DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, make deals with the likes of you.” With that, she was already pressing into his skin with her index finger. \n\nIt took all she had not to spit at the devil, the nightmare that haunted her waking life. “I can be happy. That’s not an issue. I just need patience. I would be HAPPIER, however, if you STOPPED. OFFERING. ME. DEALS. You got that?” Her voice was dripping with malice,her posture was sharp and accusatory. He, however, looked absentmindedly off into the distance behind her. ”Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?!” There was a silence. ”I’m clearly wasting my time here, so If you don’t mind, I’m going to go home.” She picked up her belongings, and began walking. She hated dealing with this every day. But it was more than worth leading a normal life.\n", "I looked down at my morning bowl alphabet cereal. The letters had formed a message as they had every morning for the past month and half.\n\nFRANK YOU ARE\n\n THE CHOSEN ONE\n\n\"Nope. Not today, Alpha-Bits\" I muttered as I sliced a banana into the bowl and stirred it around. If this kept up I'd be switching to Cheerios.\n\nOf course later that morning some broad with one of those ridiculous Star-Wars-type hairstyles chases me down on the subway. She was dressed like she'd just come from a Renaissance Fair, with a long pink gown and a golden crown-type thing. \n\nWhy do they always gotta send a princess? It's always a goddamn princess. Why not a messenger or better yet an e-mail? I'm paying out the ass for an iPhone, the least these morons could do is send an godamn e-mail.\n\n\"Frank! I am Princess Wyzeentas! I have been searching the cosmos for you!\" she said in a breathless voice. \n\nOh boy, here we go again.\n\n\"No thanks lady,\" I said firmly, turning back to my newspaper. \n\n\"But Frank! The Kingdom of the Seven Stars is in turmoil! We need the legendary warrior said to wield the Mythical Sword of-\" She stopped, interrupted by the thundering sound of the incoming subway train. \n\n\"I'm gonna stop you right there lady.\" I said over the squeal of the breaking train. \"Whatever it is your selling, I'm not buying. My entire life I've have to deal with space princesses, time princesses, inter-dimensional princesses begging me to clean up some kingdom I have no stake in. Do you know how irritating it is to find weird-ass glowing medieval sword-type weapons showing up under my bed every other day? And don't even get me started on the teleportation. Just last week I cracked open a Miller and was transported to some kinda weird-ass crystal dimension where a talking donkey with a horn on it's head tried to con me into battling some sorta evil demon lord. I'll tell you the same thing I told him: I ain't here to battle no demon lord! Frank Figarelli sticks to his own business. I'm just a regular guy trying to put in my 9-5 so I can retire by 50. So take your LARP games or your TARP games or whatever the hell it's called somewhere else.\"\n\nWith that out of the way I got on the train. Princess-what's-her-tits made no move to follow me. She just stared, eyes bugling, mouth open as the train doors closed.\n\n\"And uh, Live Long and Prosper or whatever.\" I said as the train pulled away.\n\n\"Fuck you Frank!\" she screamed chasing after the train \"Fuck y-\" she was cut off mid sentences as she tripped over the hem of that ridiculous dress falling flat on her face.\n\nDamn loopy broad.", "The doorbell rang with adventure and glee\n\nOh Gary, oh Gary, oh who could it be?\n\n“Dude, do you mind? I’m trying to play Overwatch.”\n\nGary said with confusion,\n\nMaybe he’d not heard the potential intrusion?\n\n“Dude, you’re trying too hard. Just let me play my game.”\n\nThis time came two knocks, quick on the door,\n\nCome on Gary, get your ass off the floor.\n\n“It's Sunday afternoon dude, I just want to relax. Go bother someone else”\n\nGary got angry, or perhaps it was fright,\n\nBest he prepare in case there’s a fight.\n\n“Seriously, dude, if you don’t leave, I am calling the cops”\n\nGary grew weary and purported a threat,\n\nBut for Gary the danger was already met.\n\n“Okay, I warned you”\n\nGary got up and picked up his phone.\n\nI wonder what lady he’s going to bone.\n\n“Wait, do…do you think this is a booty call? I am literally calling the police on you right now”\n\nIt’s hard to find words that go well with phone\n\nEspecially when you are thinking alone.\n\n“Hi, 911, yeah, there is this creepy man doing a voice over in my apartment…Yeah just like sitting in the corner…It’s the third time this week”\n\nThis narrator suddenly got scared,\n\nFor truth he just wanted someone that cared.\n\n“Dude, it's not working. The police station is like 3 minutes down the road. You better leave now.”\n\nThe narrator was ready to call out his bluff\n\nThis fat man didn’t seem so tough.\n\n“Now you have to insult me, dude, that’s a low blow.”\n\nThe narrator stood and rolled up his sleeves.\n\nHis training had taught him to aim for the knees.\n\n“Ha! That one didn’t rhyme”\n\nYou think this is easy, he said with a scowl\n\nIt's 'bout time you throw in the towel.\n\n“Yeah, he’s right over there, officer. With the big microphone.”\n\nGary had finally opened the door,\n\nAnd the narrator realized what laid in store.\n\nThe story is over, the ending is near\n\nIt is time for this narrator to disappear.\n\n“You are under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used against…”\n\nFuck.\n\n", "A prisoner to the man's pen from above. That summarizes my life, without much explanation needed. He writes, I walk. If he wants me to laugh at someone's misfortune, I will do so. If he wants me to betray one of my best friends for the greater good, then say bye-bye to that relationship. I am at his mercy. But today... today's little writing session will go different. This is my STORY.\n__________________________________________________________________\nThe young knight walks towards the Princess, his eyes radiating in her beauty. He gently reaches for her hand to bring her closer but he stops?\n\nHe stops reaching for her hand, and he randomly decides to turn around and walk down the dirt road, vanishing into the woods for no apparent reason. Wait, what?\n\nShe follows him fast, so fast that it would almost seem like the author is giving her magical powers for the sake of convenience. She appears right in front of him, her hand outstretched, longing for his love like she did on the dirt road.\n\nHe takes a few steps closer to her and violently.. spits in her face? What in the hell is going on? The mucus filled spit hangs from the point of her nose, slowly dripping down to her glass high heels.\n\nThe knight DEMANDS he clean it up himself, ISN'T THAT RIGHT? Pulling out his royal handkerchief, he begins to dab her face lightly, as if not to smear her makeup...and then, in an unprovoked rage, he begins punching her with the handkerchief wrapped around his fist. Oh my god, he is going to kill her!\n\nBut all of a sudden, out of the ominous clouds above, a breathtaking dragon swoops down to fight the knight. This dragon is immortal, he shoots fireballs that are as big as castles and rumor has it, he loves to eat disobedient main characters.\n\nThe knight stands up from the flailing princess. He draws his sword, the light gleaming off of it's finely sharpened edge. This is the moment he has trained for and he knows if he follows orders and slays this dragon, his family will rejoice in his glory. He lifts the sword high in the air and digs the sword right into his left arm, slowly cutting away at the flesh and bone? \n\nOh my god, Lord have mercy. His arm now flops to the ground, the warm blood rushing all over the Princess's head like a bukkake during New Year's Eve. Even with one appendage cut off, he looks at the dragon with his determined eyes, his stance that of pure confidence. \n\nWith his right arm still intact, he somehow musters up the motivation to slay the monstrous beast. The knight run towards the dragon, sword aligned with his heart. \n\nAnd he trips...\n\nWHO TRIPS IN AN EPIC FIGHT?\n\nHe trips and now he is fake crying on the ground. \n\nScrew this, you little bastard character.\n\nThe dragon eats the knight.\n\nThere,\n\nThe End." ]	7
	[WP] Every morning you wake up as the opposite gender that you were the day before. However, this particular morning...	[ "I woke up feeling strange, today I was Mary not Mark, i knew that, but there was definitely something off... I had Marks cock still.\n\nWhile I was Mark I was larger, fit and the cock was a nice size, but not massive by any means, Mary was much more petite weighing 30 pounds less and being 4 1/2 inches shorter... and in comparison the cock looked huge on me What the hell was I going to do.\n\nOk Ok maybe its not so bad, I put on some panties and tried a few position to hide it unsuccessfully.\n\n\"Shit... This isn't going to work unless...\"\n\nI put on another pair of panties to hopefully smooth the bulge. It... helped. Next my most fluffy skirt I had, success, while if someone got close or fetlt my crotch i'd be boned literally, from any other angle i looked fine.\n\nI made sure to check myself from every angle, it seemed to work until I had a thought... I'd made plans to go Bikini shopping with some friends today." ]	1
	[WP] A hick from a small town is highly hated, his only love and passion is raising his cows. Till one day his cows, and himself, get abducted by 10 ft tall, broccoli looking, aliens. Now it's up to him to bring down the spaceship, and save his cows.	[ "They came crowdin toward me the moment they saw me, my 4 Angus cows: Dolly, Pie, Moose, and Sherb (the calf). Today, like any day, I opened their gate and push'em back a little, flip my bucket upside down, take my seat oneet, and think about my Judge Judy shows as I toss out some feed and talk to my cows. \n\n\n\"There was a damn yellow, slant-eyed woman on the show today yapping about a dog bite.\" I say to Dolly. \"Yea, I know I know, there's a damn yappin Chinese broad about a dog bite on almost ever'day. So glad I got you and Pie and Moose and Sherb instead of a yappin woman! No I can't seem to remember what all happened on Judge Judy 'cause I fell asleep, but hopefully it was in favor of the little, quiet, sweet white lady. She didn't do nothing wrong.\" \n\n\nSherb started to push in shyly for some attention. I patted him on the end and thought, \"he done never heard the story of stories!\" \"Say Sherb, I never tol you about how me and Judge Judy saved the en-tire earth did I? Ha, I didn't think so. Now let's see here - Well it was like any other day, cept none of you all were here. It was the cows before. The ones I sent down over to Bill to be slaughtered - laurd knows I can't do it to my babies my own self. But I got to make cash money somehow!\" \n\n\nI may have dozed a bit before getting into the story. I saw the cows had lost interest and were roaming around just a few yards from me, and that never happens cept when I fall asleep like I always do. So I started hollerin for'em and they came runnin back. \n\n\n\"Now let me tell you my story! Don't go runnin away on me again. I don't remember where I was, so I guess I have to start at the beginning again! It was like any other day, cept none of you all here here. And I done see this thing in the sky over the cem-tery just yonder there. It looked like a big ol' hunk of broccoli. YUCK! \n\n\n\"Well there in that giant floating broccoli were some green ol, wide-eyed aliens and they done fix a beam on me and pulled me clear up in the sky there! Course it was a long ride up and really relaxing. I must have dozed off a bit because when I woke up, why I was layin down on a comfy, clean hi-tech vinyl bed! Well now that bed was so comfy, I couldn't stop myself from fallin back asleep! But I done woke up because these green alien bastards were blabberin about something and they was blabberin real angry to this blue'un I call 'Bluey.' \n\n\n\"These fuckers didn't seem so smart. Seemed as dumb as the damn illegals we have in this good 'ol US of A. I figur I could kill'em real easy or beat them with ma mind. \n \n\n\"Now I'm real sick and tard of anyone thinkin they can just come into this great country - God's country and not speak English. And when these little sons a bitches were squabblin in their own language, well I had to set things right! \n\n\n\" 'IN ENGLISH PLEASE. YOU'RE IN AMURICA!' I hollered to'em. And to my surprise the little sons a bitches complied and argued in English - real bad English. Even dirty Mexicans speak better English than these fuckers. But least I could understand'eem now. \n\n\n\" 'You no pay in full services 300 years. We take creatures!' one of the green guys said. \n\n\n\" 'I no pay in full! Services joke! Creatures been our pets long time' Bluey replied. \n\n\n\" 'Services not joke. Dumb creatures dirty. Tank hard to clean! We take and we kill creatures less pay all!' Green replied. \n\n\n\" 'Not kill our creatures. They ours. Can't kill something living! Can't kill something ours!' Bluey said, now starting to point what looked like maybe a finger into Greens belly head thing. That's really what they seemed to be, a giant head-belly all in one with fur and tons of fingers, but very short arms. \n\n\n\"'Now hold on right there!' I started hollerin, 'Now see on this here planet, we are civ-il-ized people and have a proper judish-ee-airy system. Now I reckon I can be of help in solving this problem fair and impartial like. I watched enough Judge Judy to know a thing or two about the laws. Fact I'm a bonafide judge.' Yea I lied Sherb, but they had no reason not to believe me. 'Now Mis-ter green, what'dya plan to do if Bluey doesn't pay what he owes?' I asked Green. \n\n\n\"'Confiscate creatures and kill. Too messy for tank!' Green replied. \n\n\n\"'Ah, uh huh. I see. And why did you decide to abduct me?' I asked \n\n\n\" Green pointed that sort of finger at me and said, 'Dumb dirty creature example!' \n\n\"Now I didn't like his words too much at all. But I am a gentle-man and I didn't let myself become all angry like. Judge Judy, dependen on her mood wouldn'ta made no fuss neither less she was real pissed off. So I just continued on with the session. So I turned to Mr. Blue and asked him about our fate. \n \n\n\" ' And you Mr. Blue, are the creatures to remain here unbothered if this is settled in your favor?' \n\n\n\" 'Where else creatures go?' replied Bluey. \n\n\n\" 'Alright. Ok. So now you have not paid all you owe Mr. Blue in some time. And you argue that their services were terrible. What service were they meant to provide?' \n\n\n\"' Keep tank clean!' Bluey replied. \n\n\n\" 'Can't keep clean with dirty creatures!' Green hollered back. \n\n\n\" ' Order! Order in this here cour - space thing! Green you can talk when I say. Now Green, did you have Bluey here sign a contract?' \n\n\n\" 'I called Orgo!' Green said. \n\n\n\nI looked over to Sherb who was distracted by a little butterfly. \n\n\n\"Now listen here Sherb! In honor of Mrs. Judge Judy I didn't take that kind of bull-shit in my cour- well in that space ship. I looked straight at Green and told him his name is whatever I say it is in order for this complaint to be settled properly. Now that's how we civil people do it here! I repeated myself about the contract, and sure enough Green had a small little write up about their terms and services and payment that was signed by Bluey. But I couldn't read none of it. So I had them read it to me. \n\n\n\" ' Well now Green, there's nothing in here about creatures being messier than normal. 'Fact, creatures are always messy, and that's why they need cleaned up after. This here document says that you intended to clean up the tank every century -satisfaction guaranteed or it's on the house. Pretty stupid for you to come barging in on Bluey's pets here if you ain't doin your job right. Now where I come from, satisfaction guaranteed means Bluey here has to be happy with the services you provided. And he ain't! And to be honest, we creatures ain't either! I have creatures of ma own - them cows down thar. And they shit on the fields, and I have to pay a boy to help me shovel and bag up that shit. And if that boy don't do his job, well he don't get paid. Clear and simp-ple. \n \n\n\" 'But more creatures next year and next! Can't keep up.' Green interrupted. Judge Judy wouldn'ta had none of that so I wasn't neither. \n\n\n\" 'Don't interrupt an honorable judge! Don't you know your manners! I ain't gonna tolerate no more from you Green or I'll put this whole thing in Bluey's favor without further con-sid-er-ation. Just like that.'\" \n\n\n\nI turned to Pie and pet him on the side real nice. \"I'm amazed I ain't fall asleep yet tellin this story! Well now anyway, I had them read over that short little service agreement a few more times and I could see they thought me to be the smartest feller they'd ever met. So it really didn't matter what I said. I could tell'em anything without knowing anything. So I did. I went back to Bluey and asked why he wasn't happy with the services. And you know, he told me it's cause the air is getting bad, and the dirt is stacking up, and they're supposed to come in unseen like and fix all that for us. Well who'da known the earth had a cleaning service! Looks like we can use our trucks and not feel so bad about it after all. Course I don't believe in what them scientists been sayin anyway. Then I turned back to Mr. Green and tol'em flat out that he didn't do his job up to snuff and that he and his ass hole friends are just going to have to leave. And leave me here too. I told Bluey he might want to look into a new pro-vider too. And you what, they done believed me. They let me go, and they zipped away on their little broccoship and I never seen'em again. Now no one round here believes me. But then that's why I ain't friends with no one around here. They can't appreciate a man saving alla humanity, well the next time these aliens come back, I won't help one bit Anyway babies. That's how me and Judge Judy saved the world!\" \n\n\nAnd with that, I flipped my bucket back up to catch the rain, opened the gate and headed back inside to catch a nap. \n\n\n\n\n- My late narcoleptic step-grandpa was literally a racist hillbilly from North Carolina who loved his tiny herd of black angus....so I couldn't not write this story! \n- Edit, I realize I forgot to add in that the cows got abducted. Oh well. I really wouldn't have mattered.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] The year is 2050. The disparity between the rich and poor has grown to an almost unfathomable polarity. One day, the Gods decide to turn the tables; the elite become destitute and the masses of woefully impoverished are now swimming in riches.	[ "My name is Michael Render and before I begin my tale of where I am I must first tell you where I've been...\n\nEverything started ten years after my birth in the year AD 2016. A year I will never forget. The first woman was elected president amid rumors of deception and deceit. No one wanted her. Yet, she fought and bought her way to the top.\n\n2024 \n\nOver the next eight years she managed to put in place policies which would be the undoing of what was once America. By the end of those eight years and by my eighteenth birthday America was no longer a country. Somehow it had been corroded down in to a global \"hub\" of sorts. \n\nI started college that fall. Like the wind that blows by, so did the rumors of people being shipped off to other countries if they didn't make a specific amount of money. I didn't believe any of them. I didn't care too much about it then. \n\n2034 \n\nFast-forward ten years. America was renamed the \"Centroplex\". There was no more \"president\" just a board of elites voted in to office by other elites. The global elites had migrated to what was once America, driving out the poor and lower-middle class. Shoot, even the middle class subjugated itself to the whiles of these super rich. Middle class had become a term to denote the poorest of the poor in the Centroplex. They were scum and treated no different. All they had going for them was the fact that they could say they lived in the \"Centroplex\" and were thus treated better on the outside. \n\nBy this time I was twenty-eight and a college dropout. Bots slowly took over most of the \"lower class\" jobs. With no degree I had no prospects. No way to work. Or make money. Then I got the letter. It began:\n\nDear Mr. Render,\n\nThe Centroplex Governing Board is sorry to inform you that you do not meet our required criteria of $50,000 a year. We are here to kindly inform you that you will be sent to another location which will meet your unique needs...\n\nThe BS they fed in that letter sickened my stomach. I'll never forget it. They paid for my ticket and shipped me to some island called \"Px-142\". Everything was divided up on the map in numbers and only the elites knew what this meant. \n\n2044 \n\nAnother ten years. The Centroplex had grown so big people were forced to move to other locations. So they simply renamed these locations the \"Centroplex\" and enhanced its boarders. No one cared at this point. There was nothing anyone could do anyway. \n\nI was thirty-eight by this time and had grown accustom to my life on Px-142. The island was large and most of it was heavily forested. Over the years I broke away from the daily grind of Px-142 and its twelve hour workdays. I ran to the forest and never looked back. I learned how to hunt and gather. How to differentiate plants and their medicinal uses. I even built a nice big cob house for myself. And a hammock. I lived like a king next to the beach all alone. \n\nAt night I would travel to the top of one of the many hills that overlooked much of Px-142. I would see lights on in the factories and knew people were working themselves to death. Literally. On May 13, AD 2045 an idea hit me. What if I brought people in? Taught them what I knew. The idea intrigued me. \n\n2050\n\nFive short years later and I started what transformed in to a revolution. The forest of Px-142 now consisted of 122 people scattered about. I taught them all that I knew and they took off with it, adapting it to fit their own personal needs. It was anarchy at its best. \n\nSome of the Police Bots were sent to capture us. They always got lost in the thick of the forest. Then they sent people. That was even easier because these people were part of the lower class and we simply bribed them to join us. Next they sent the Middle class. They were a bit harder to convince. The ones we couldn't convince had only one place to go. \n\nThen it happened. No one saw it coming - the rich or the poor. They call it the worst economic collapse in history. Every form of currency dropped one-by-one. Those poorly treated Middle Class scum in the Centroplex went crazy when they learned they were not getting a paycheck. Or, at least that's what the newcomers are telling me. Everyone began to betray everyone. Riots and chaos in the streets. All those apart of this matrix, this system of destruction were now feeling the consequences of its collapse. \n\nEveryone but us. Now it was our turn to reign." ]	1
	[WP] The "Pics or It Didn't Happen" rule is real, and you must provide pictures of whatever event you claimed happened or else the event will be erased from history.	[ "Gone. Gone in an instant. The gavel struck the podium as the flash from a news camera captured the moment for all eternity. Just like that, thousands of years, tens of thousands of years even, were struck from human memory. In fact, everything before 1826 when Joseph Nicéphore Niépce took the world's first photograph was cleansed from our minds. At first, no one seemed to notice. Most just went about their daily lives none the wiser. But after a few horus people started wondering. Where did it all come from? There had to be something before. But before what? Those that had not heard of the new rule wandered aimlessly. So much of their lives gone in a flash. All those memories. All those moments unphotographed. First kisses, years at school, and adventures with friends. However, they did seem to remember a large number of their meals. Especially ones that looked particularly visually pleasing or expensive. And their pets. By god did they remember their pets. It only took a short amount of time but human society began to collapse. Devolving into a world where our history books are our Instagram accounts and the only things we can remember are our meals, our pets, and our outfits." ]	1
	[WP] A fantasy world with your stereotypical fantasy elements (adventures, elves, dwarves, Wizards, etc.) only it takes place in a modern society with modern technology (phones, cars, guns, etc.)	[ "\"Slay the iron dragon, and bring back my daughter. If you can free my people from its reign of terror, I will grant you any reward you desire.\"\n\n\"It will be done. We set out for his lair at dawn!\"\n\n\"Be careful, brave knight. Many bold warriors have fallen in battle against this beast! It is as cunning as it is powerful!\"\n\n...\n\n\"Tracking him on radar. Dragon is at angels five, bearing two niner zero, closing fast.\"\n\n\"Roger. Saber, turning to engage!\"\n\nHis elvish fighter jet responded in an instant, elegant mithril wings flashing in the sun. His eyes were glued to the scope as he turned, watching the flashing dot of the dragon's radar return as he locked on to target.\n\n\"Locking seekers. No dragon can handle a BVR missile.\"\n\nThe green dot flickered, jumped, and vanished.\n\n\"Palantir, I've lost tracking! Where is he?\"\n\n\"I don't know, radar just went blank. I'm going to try scrying.\" His wingwitch's recon plane began to pulse with strange colors as she started to look beyond the electromagnetic spectrum and into the ethereal plane.\n\nHis instruments beeped a warning at him. Missile launch detected.\n\nHe looked out the window to see a jet of flame shooting towards him. How? That dragon shouldn't be able to even see me!\n\nHe yanked the control stick and his fighter rolled out of the way of the fireball. Hot air buffeted his wings. \"How did he spot us? We're miles outside visual range!\"\n\n\"Lightning sparks behind its eyes, the dragon stirs the upper air. The beast acts with cunning dire, the arsenal of man it bears.\"\n\nThat was the problem with scrying - you didn't get a straight answer. Nothing you could use to lock your missiles. But this was good enough to start. He pulled back on the stick and fought for altitude as another fireball streaked past.\n\n\"Arsenal of man... it's carrying a radar of its own? Palantir, check your passive sensors!\"\n\n\"The sea of photons turns against us, guiding dragon's modern wrath. From the east he tracks our fighters. Hurry and deploy your chaff!\"\n\nHe turned and looked out on his right side. A twisting pattern of fireballs bracketed him, and a pair of missiles closed in for the kill. He twisted into another sudden evasion, leaving a cloud of chaff behind him to break their lock.\n\nAs the distance closed and the missiles exploded behind him, he finally caught a glimpse of his foe.\n\n\"I have visual! Dead ahead on my vector! What is that thing?\"\n\nThe dragon's shape was hardly recognizable. Plates of flat armor covered its scales. Each claw clutched a rack of missiles. Its head was masked by a sleek, triangular shape, and he saw the distinct shape of a radar antenna on its back. Even the way it flew was strange, its wings held in rigid poses that masked its radar signature.\n\nAs it saw him, it roared and banked towards him, flames spewing from its mouth. He turned to dodge, and the two began circling, each trying to get on the other's tail. Palantir broke off, her plane keeping a safe distance from the battle as she looked for an opening.\n\n\"Breaking scrying trance. He's not hiding any more.\"\n\n\"Black Arrows ready. Think we can punch through that armor?\" His plane carried anti-armor missiles, with a dwarf-forged penetrator designed to punch through dragon scales.\n\n\"Maybe. I've never seen a dragon like this before.\"\n\n\"Starting my attack!\" He dove low and turned sharply, trying to aim at the dragon's vulnerable underbelly. It flew into a loop, craning its neck to spew flame at him.\n\n\"Fox one!\" Against a dragon, heatseekers were basically impossible to miss with. The missile thundered off his wing and struck home.\n\n\"He's still flying!\" There was a scorch mark and a chunk of metal blasted out of the dragon's armor, but the scales underneath were pristine.\n\n\"Break, break!\" His wingwitch called as he streaked past the dragon. Moments later, his canopy was engulfed in flames as the dragon breathed out.\n\n\"Saber! Are you okay? Come in, Saber!\" The mage's normally calm voice was edged with panic.\n\nAs his jet shot out of the flames, he moved the stick cautiously. \"I'm okay, but the controls are sluggish. I think he melted something important.\"\n\n\"Your right engine is on fire. Hit your extinguishers, then hold steady so I can hit you with a repair spell!\"\n\nHe needed that. A row of flashing red lights in his cockpit was telling him that his plane was in no shape for any maneuvering, that as lightweight and agile as his mithril frame was, it was also terribly fragile.\n\nBut where was the dragon? Why wasn't it pressing the advantage on his wounded fighter? He twisted in his seat, watching the dragon's movements behind him.\n\n\"Palantir, wave off! It's setting up to pounce on you!\"\n\n\"I can't leave you!\"\n\nHe could clearly see it now, the beast was toying with them. It was giving her a choice: Let her wingman die, or let herself get killed trying to save him.\n\nI'm a pilot. A knight of the air. And knights don't let other people die for them.\n\n\"Stay back! Do you have enough mana for True Strike?\"\n\n\"Yes, but I don't have a shot!\"\n\n\"Then I'll get you that shot.\"\n\n\"What are you... Oh!\"\n\nHe stomped on the rudder pedals, turning as sharply as he could to face the dragon on his tail. He heard the shriek of tortured metal as he pushed the damaged fighter beyond its limits.\n\nCome on, hold together.\n\n\"Cast it now!\"\n\nThe witch's fighter blazed with magical energy.\n\n\"Let all obstacles in my path be removed, let my weapons strike true! Datalink established, take the shot!\"\n\nSaber's HUD lit up as supernaturally precise targeting data poured in. He squeezed the trigger three times.\n\n\"Fox one! Fox one! Fox one!\" All of his remaining missiles left the rails, zooming unerringly for the gap he had opened in the dragon's armor.\n\nThe monster's scream of pain echoed across the mountains. It sank towards the ground, an arc of blood spraying behind it. It flapped its wings to stay aloft, but it was clear that its strength was gone. It plummeted towards the stony ground below.\n\n\"Splash one dragon!\" He shouted exuberantly.\n\n\"Don't ever do that again. You nearly gave me a heart attack.\" Palantir pulled up alongside him and started to channel magic into his damaged plane.\n\n\"It worked, didn't it?\"\n\n\"You nearly tore your wings off doing it. Next time, we might not be so lucky.\"\n\n\"Next time? We're getting a dragon's hoard in plunder and you think we'll need to do this another time?\"\n\n\"Think about it. Where does a dragon get armor, radar, missile launchers? Someone sold those to him.\"\n\n\"Selling weapons to monsters? Who would do such a thing?\"\n\n\"Half the kingdoms, I bet.\" She said grimly, as their planes wheeled around and headed for home. \"I don't think this will be our last battle, not by a long shot.\"", "\"ORC LIVES MATTER! ORC LIVES MATTER!\" The protestors chanted as the marched across the street downtown. They had been angling for civil rights for decades. The Federal government had formed a Special Office of Orc Affairs, but that hadn't satisfied most of these people. \n\nGral Thorsson sat in his Honda and stared at the line of protestors block his way in to work. His father and grandfather and great-grandfather and all their forefathers were stalwart adventurers. They had killed more orcs than syphilis and droughts combined. Theirs was a proud history of noble and brave warriors. Until Gral, who went by Jason most days, decided to modernize. He was tired of the hate and the danger. \n\nSitting in his car, waiting for the police to clear the road, he felt some of his father's racism well up inside him. Gral had fought that for years and could still hear his old man's voice talking about \"greenies\". He took a breath and tried to calm down. \n\nOrcs had a much faster reproductive cycle than humans. It took the human population about forty years to double while the orcs did it in ten. Their number used to be kept in check by adventurers like Gral's family and by keeping the orcs confined to the outskirts of civilization and in unwanted wastelands. Starvation held their numbers down. In the last thirty years, however, monumental civil rights bills had allowed orcs to move into the cities. Now with enough food and housing, their numbers had exploded. They were also becoming a political force to be reckoned with. \n\nGral pulled into the parking garage forty-five minutes late. He rushed to his desk. He barely had time to put his things down before he had to rush off to his first meeting of the day. A vice-president of his company, Mr. Billowek, had scheduled a meeting with his team. \n\nGral made it to the conference room just as Mr. Billowek took to the podium. He was a tall willowy elf who was rumored to be over a thousand years old. He seemed insubstantial at first but became real when he opened his mouth a smooth baritone rolled out. \n\n\"Good morning everyone. For those that don't know me, I'm Mr. Billowek, Vice President of Strategic Initiatives. We are here this morning to discuss a new project that I believe you will be especially suited for. With the recent increase in our orcish population, we believe there is an untapped market for the upwardly mobile, middle-class orc. He is not content to work in the salt mines like his father. Or to scrape out a living on the unforgiving plains like his grandfather. No, this orc has something no other orc in his family has ever had - disposable income.\"\n\nMr. Billowek then launched into an hour long slide show of new projects aimed at capturing orcish dollars. Cell phones that would withstand their hardened fingernails. Cars that had pedals they could reach. Shoes that still allowed them mobility in their underground dens. \n\nGral was still fuming over the protestors in his way. Now he's have to work late tonight to make up the time. Which meant less time he'd get to spend with Maria and little Wendy. Then an idea occurred to him. What if all of these products were close to what the orcs wanted by just a little off? The cell phone would always have awful reception. The cars would get terrible mileage and breakdown often. The shoes would never fit quite right. \n\nA few days later, Grul took the family to visit his father out in the country. Wendy adored her grandpa and he was wrapped around her little finger. Grul cautiously worked up to asking about the old days. His father had never approved to Grul leaving the family business. Any breach of that peace may result in all out war. \n\n\"Dad, I have a question. About your work.\"\n\nGrul's father looked at him sideways for a minute then nodded without speaking. \n\n\"Did you ever meet any, uh, Wizards?\"\n\n\"Aye. A time or two. They're rare as hen's teeth on a good day. But there was one that seemed a good 'un. Name of Metzikeel or some such. Lived over on Mount Raenth. You looking for a potion to make you into a man finally?\"\n\n\"Sure.\" Grul found the easiest way to avoid a fight was just not engage. Just then Wendy ran up and begged her grandpa to push her on the swing. Grul sat and watched them. He pulled out his phone and had Google Maps show him the fastest way to Mount Raenth from here. He could be there and back in four hours. The little greenies would never settle for city life once Grul convinced that wizard to curse them. " ]	2
	[WP] In a world of zero-sum luck shared with your partner, write the bittersweet story of having the best or worst day of your life.	[ "Daniel woke up to the smell of warm coffee, his alarm blaring the start of the new day. The right-side of the bed was empty, as it always was on Fridays. He got up, eyes squinting as he fumbled around for his glasses, only to pick up her note. \"I love you\" , a childish heart on top of the I, as it always was on Fridays. He smiled.\n\nKaylee was late to work, her heels tapping in quick succession against the pavement. She hated Fridays, her boss mandating they all come to work an hour early for a weekly briefing. She usually just scribbled on her notepad. But today was different. Her firm had just hired a new member, and it was her job to show him the ropes. She'd just entered the room when her boss introduced him. Jim, tall with friendly brown eyes, shook her hand. \n\nShe took him out to lunch, answering his never ending questions. But she didn't mind, there was something about him that made it okay. The conversation drifted away from work, it was amazing how easily she could talk to him. They were late to work, neither had realized how much time had passed. And against her best wishes, she was really happy.\n\nDaniel felt something was wrong. Kaylee was different somehow. Neither of them mentioned it, but it was there. As they turned off the lights, she went into his arms and it almost felt right. But she was smiling, and deep down she knew it wasn't because of him. He couldn't fall asleep, as irrational as it was, he knew something was lost.\n\n\nThe next morning, Daniel woke up to the smell of warm coffee, his alarm blaring the start of the new day. The right-side of the bed was empty, as it always was on Saturdays. He picked up her note, the \"I\" didn't have a heart on it anymore." ]	1
	[WP] Once every year, a child is born that will live a full lifetime within the span of one year.	[ "Every Monday is Charlie's birthday.\n\nIn a world where everyone is special, Charlie is extraordinary. He is the only one this year that will be a baby, toddler, child, teenager, adolescent, adult, middle-aged, and finally a senior within 365 days. \n\nAt first Charlie's parents didn't know what to do. His mom cried a lot. She had been expecting to see her son grow up for the next fifty years, not to watch him die before her. \n\nHis dad had also been devastated, but he was the rock of their family. He couldn't cry in front of everyone. On the outside he still went to work. He handled the insurance. He was grateful he had talked his wife into signing them up for the added protection, which would cover their child's medical expenses. \n\nNeither of them had known how to raise a child, let alone one who would quickly surpass them in age. \n\nBut Charlie's mom and dad did not give up. They didn't put him up for adoption or sign away their rights as parents to the medical field. They wanted every moment they had to cherish their child. \n\nCharlie's dad quit his job. They sold their cars and their house. They collected insurance money. \n\nAnd then they went to see the world. \n\n" ]	1
As requested here. https://www.reddit.com/r/shittysuperpowers/comments/4z4ymf/the_ability_to_summon_a_tiny_man_named_cletus_who/	[WP] You have the ability to summon a tiny man named Cletus who lives his own life independent of your own and vehemently dislikes you.	[ "It’s a curious thing, watching a small man fly across the sky. Quite graceful in a way, like a tiny flower being blown by a gentle breeze. What was even more curious was despite the spectacular somersaults, his eyes never left mine. Like an oddly shaped windmill he had somehow managed to find the time to stretch his knobbly arms out with both middle fingers pointed in my direction. It truly was a baffling sight.\n\nI suppose I really should have done something, but what could I? I mean the whole definition of a super power is just that, super. Summoning a tiny man named Cletus, who one time tried bite my balls off, doesn't seem to be all that conducive to being super. Well I suppose this really was my fault, but… \n\nI jumped about a foot in the air as an explosion shook the ground behind me. Police sirens sounded as more explosions echoed in the distance. I panicked as I suddenly remembered what was happening. The majesty of the tiny flying man had distracted me for too long, but how the hell could Cletus still be in the air? And how the bloody hell was he still pulling the fingers? There are rarely any moments in life when you can say you are well and truly fucked. This however was one of those moments. But I couldn’t help but think back to how it all began, just a mere 2 hours ago…\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] The day you have long feared has arrived. The Cows have come home.	[ "Gordon Kane looked out over his sprawling farmland and sighed. The sun was rising, and it was already beginning to get humid. Still, life was life, and Gordon was happy. The crops had enjoyed the warmer weather, although he hadn't.\n\nGordon wiped the first bead of sweat from his forehead and and opened the porch door. He reached for the keys but hesitated, his eyes wandering around and resting on an old, worn scythe. It had been his father's, left to him when his brother moved away. Gordon usually started the harvest by hand, only moving to a combine on the second or third day. He smiled. What was one more year of hard work for an old man? He would keep the tradition.\n\n---\n\nGordon was regretting his decision. The sun beat down relentlessly. His wife had been right - of course, she was always right. She had gently told him that he was getting too old to be doing manual labor. There was a reason why no one did this by hand anymore. \n\nGordon stood straight and arched his back. He looked over his land, proud of what he'd grown the small family farm into. A movement in the corner of his eye made him jerk around suddenly. It wasn't common to get visitors now, before the harvest was finished. Everyone else was hard at work on their own farms.\n\n\"Hey, Gordon,\" yelled a tan, lean man from far down the dusty road. \"How's the farm doing?\" \n\n---\n\nGordon turned on the tap to clear out the leeched metal. \n\n\"Long time, Abel. Long time.\"\n\nAbel shrugged sheepishly. \n\n\"You always had a way with words.\"\n\nGordon shut the water off sharply and handed his brother a brown mug. Abel examined it sadly. \n\n\"You still have this? Remember when you chipped it? How angry dad was? Why did you keep it?\"\n\nGordon shut his eyes. \n\n\"You were always his favorite. I had to learn from my mistakes.\"\n\nGordon sighed and opened his eyes again. \n\n\"Why are you back, anyway? You didn't even come back for mom's funeral.\"\n\nAbel put the mug down. He hadn't drunk from it. \n\n\"You know why I'm back. My inheritance.\"\n\n\"You forfeited that when you ran away.\"\n\n\"That's not what my lawyer says. He was very unhappy that you tried to hide dad's will.\"\n\nGordon shrugged. \n\n\"I still have the original. You could have come by any time.\"\n\nAbel pursed his lips. \n\n\"Let's not dredge up the past. All I want is my share of the land.\"\n\n\"For what? We both know that you can't hold down a job. What will you do, sell off the last bit of our parents?\"\n\nAbel laughed. \n\n\"Of course not. Remember that summer class I took in Texas?\"\n\nHe waited for a response. \n\n\"Right, you never cared about me. Well, I met some ranchers there and fell in love with their lifestyle. Simple, yet fulfilled. They get everything they need from their herd.\"\n\n\"Not,\" he added with a slight sneer, \"like your grain that gets force fed into -\" \n\nGordon smacked the table. \n\n\"Cows? Yeah, my grain gets fed right into the cows that you claim to love.\"\n\nAbel held up in hands, mocking Gordon. \n\n\"Look who finally learned where the grain goes. The people in town told me that you still harvest by hand? What is this, the middle ages?\"\n\nGordon took Abel's mug, dumped it, and began to refill it. Abel talked to his back. \n\n\"Well, guess what? I'm going to have sheep, I'm going to have pigs, I'm going to have cows, and I'm going to make a hell of a lot more money than you. Then, I'm going to buy the rest of your precious little fields, and see how long they last with my herd on them.\"\n\nGordon finished and slid the mug back to his brother. He seemed resigned to his fate. \n\n\"Cows, eh? I always thought you wanted the fast life. Well, let's go see what your half of the land looks like.\"\n\nAbel drank his water, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and stood up. \n\n\"Remember, I grew up here, too. I know where my half is supposed to be.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" replied Gordon. \"Right where I grow my most expensive grain.\"\n\n---\n\nAbel hadn't been in this heat for a long, long time. It seemed to be farther than he remembered to reach the small river that irrigated this half of the farm. \n\n\"Here it is,\" said Gordon. \n\nNo, this was wrong. It was the wrong river. It was the river they used to sneak over to at night. \n\nAbel felt dizzy. \n\n\"Is this place bigger?\" asked Abel. \n\n\"Yeah,\" grunted Gordon. \"See that? That's where our neighbors used to live. They sold the place to me a few years ago.\"\n\nAbel stumbled. \n\n\"Hey, let me give you a hand,\" offered Gordon. \"Easy, easy...\"\n\nAbel blacked out for a second, then felt the cold water of the river rushing through him. \n\n\"Remember this place?\" he heard Gordon, far, far away. \"This is where you told me I was adopted, you sick freak.\"\n\n---\n\nGordon trudged back to his house. He would tell his wife later, when he had finished for the day. She would understand, wouldn't she? She had always told him to stand up to Abel. \n\nHe missed her. \n\nGordon approached the barn and put the scythe back. He was glad that he hadn't gotten it dirty. He would cut a fresh bunch of flowers with it to take to his wife. \n\nInside the house, Gordon dumped the rest of his medication into the toilet. He would tell the doctor that he had lost it somewhere. At least this way, it would be partially true. \n\nAs he rinsed out the chipped brown mug, Gordon thought about cows. Ugly, smelly things, trampling the earth and ruining its beauty. They consumed its fruits and left nothing. A bit, he thought, like Abel. No wonder he had liked them so much. \n", "Frank knelt low, taking a pinch of dirt in his hand. He smelled it, as his granddad always had, before he let it go, watching the direction of the gentle wind. Eastward. The old man always said they would come from the East. It would be soon. Dawn was approaching, the mauve sky turning to gentle blue. Frank glanced up as more hurried footsteps scampered past him. At last, the town's folk understood, and fled to his ranch for safety. Hmph. Granddad would have turned them away, but Frank liked to think he was a different sort of man. A fella had every reason to be a hardnosed type out here, but letting an entire town perish was a different matter. Most would not have tried to convince them all of the coming danger so hard, but Frank wanted his conscience clear. Though these people had outcast him, called him foolish and crazy, now they clamored at his gate for sanctuary. It was impossible to deny, certainly after the leveling of Horace Glen only a few miles away. This was the next town in the line of destruction.\n\nFrank caught eyes with one of the passersby. Mayor Roberts looked at him, guilt in his eye. \"I... I'm sorry, Mr. Williams. We should have never--I should have never--\"\n\n\"It's in the past,\" Frank said, looking out to the field ahead. It should have been planting time, one of the busiest seasons for the people of this town, but here they all were, abandoning their work. The young, the old, the kind that had calluses on their hands since they could walk and kind that kept their boots clean, all of them were running to the Williams Ranch. \"Just get everyone behind the walls and keep them calm. I'll wait to the last possible moment before setting the last defenses.\"\n\n\"I will, sir.\" If someone had told Frank three weeks ago that the mayor, of all people, would call him Sir, Frank would still be laughing. But, the man simply tipped his hat, as he watched the last of the people run inside the walls. \n\nBetsy walked up to his side, taking her work gloves off, already sweaty and tired. \"The rear stakes are in the ground, catapults are set.\" She looked up at her husband. \"Think it'll hold?\"\n\n\"It'll have to,\" he said. \"Granddad had me working on this my whole life. I remember building on this wall before I even rode my first horse. We couldn't be better prepared. He had visions, you know? Of this day. He'd've never left us defenseless, even if he knew he'd never live to see it.\"\n\n\"I trust you,\" she said and kissed him on the cheek.\n\nA low tremor met their toes, almost undetectable at first, but slowly grew in intensity. It was as if the earth itself shivered from a chill. The smallest grains of sand began to shift on the ground, a flock of birds flew overhead, flapping as hard as they could to get away from the danger. The sun peaked over the tip of the mountains and blinded with a brilliant, golden beam. It was time. \"Get inside.\"\n\nBetsy disappeared and Frank tied one last trip wire taught across the barren road where everyone had come scampering past only moments before. The littlest pebbles danced on the ground, and Frank squinted into the distance. A cloud of dust fast approached his house, a sentient storm heading straight for him.\n\n\"Frank, come on!\" Betsy called, hanging on the gate.\n\n\"Wait.\"\n\n\"There's no time anymore!\"\n\n\"I want to see it!\" Frank had spent years of his childhood imagining this moment. Would he scream? Would he cry? How big would they be? How many? Would he survive? But, as it was finally here, all he could feel was fascination. That this scourge of nature, this impossible stampede was actually real. The old man had told the truth. Even Frank had his moments of doubt over the years, but now, here it was. His eyes narrowed, he could make out silhouettes in the clouds of dirt. There were so many, a bigger number than Frank knew existed.\n\n\"FRANK!\"\n\nBetsy ran and grabbed her stunned husband by the arm and steered him inside. Some of the men from town placed the heavy logs across the gate, securing it into place. The whole town looked at him, their dusty faces streaked only where the terrified tears had cut through the dirt. Some of the little ones were already fussing and clinging to their mothers' skirts, while the babies cried.\n\n\"What do we do?\" asked the mayor.\n\n\"Um,\" Frank had never had this many people looking to him for answers before. \"The, uh, the house is over there. The children and mothers can be safe in there. And the elders can go in there too. Um, everyone else, I'll need you, uh, to man the wall. If you have a gun, use it. Only on the ones that break through parts of the defenses. The rest of you can help Betsy and me load the two catapults.\" \n\nAnd with that, the people dispersed. Granddad had built the wall around the house about eight feet high and nearly three feet thick. They had used stones and mud to thicken them, and placed wooden spikes through out so that anything that got close enough would not get more than one good ram in. The ground was shaking and he knew the herd was close.\n\n\"Everybody ready?!\" Frank called. Betsy was across the yard from him, manning a catapult. Frank stood by the other, with four other men there to help him load the boulders they had been collecting for years. The gunners leaned across the top of wall, supported by ladders, crates, barrels and whatever else that could get them high enough. Others stood on the ground around them, ready to load bullets and pass them another gun.\n\n\"Ready!\"\n\n\"Hold your fire til I give the signal!\" Frank balanced upon an old tree stump and looked over. Hundreds, ney, thousands of cattle bore down upon them, stampeding like an army possessed. \"Sweet Jesus,\" Frank whispered. God had sent locuses, frogs, flies, and plague before. But this time, it seemed, he sent something heavier. Domestic cattle, mingled with wild bison, all in one large group came running at them full speed. The weight of all their hooves striking the ground was like a thunderous nightmare. They mooed and brayed and bellowed and roared, hellbent on running over anything in their path.\n\nTWANG \n\nSome of the trip wires were set off. Hundreds of spikes Frank had been making his whole life were flung into the air. There was a noticeable wave as sever cows went down. Even if they weren't dead, they were still too injured to continue. But that group was soon shunted aside by more in the back. They just kept coming.\n\nWho could have guessed when every cow, bull, steer, ox, and buffalo in a three state area had disappeared twenty-seven years ago, that they would be coming back like this? En masse, with vengeance in their hearts? Well, Granddad knew. He had always known. And they made him a pariah for it.\n\nThere was a great cracking noise that rent the air. They had reached the trenches. Frank had dug a trench across the Eastside of his land and covered it with weak strips of wood. The herd went blindly across, breaking it and falling in. It was not deep, but, then, it didn't need to be deep to break a few legs. Another wave fell to the trenches, slowing the stampede. But not stopping it. As the trench filled with bodies, the ones behind crawled over top, creating a wretched, disgusting scene.\n\n\"Betsy, fire!\" Frank's wife pulled her lever and a stone flew through the air tumbling along the herd. Frank did the same, shooting a boulder onto more of the cows. Some that died got in the way of others, and more chaos ensued. The single direction of the herd changed more as they were hit. Some faster ones broke free of the crowd and still headed for the house. Frank did not even need to give the command as the townsfolk began firing on them. Even the gunfire was nearly deafened by the noise from these beasts. \"Load me again!\" Frank commanded. They did not need to kill all of them, just enough to get the herd to flow around the house so they did not destroy it and everyone inside. \n\nThe battle lasted for another four hours, but finally, Frank saw the back of the pack. The older, slower members of the hoard, huffed and trudged along, stepping over lots of trampled bodies. In the end, they had killed more of each other than the humans had. Frank's family land was littered with corpses of cows, the smell of blood thick on the air. But he had done it. They had survived the onslaught, he had saved everyone in town, all thanks to Granddad.", "\"Get in! Before the cows come home!\" My mother yelled to me, as I ran home after finishing collecting the chicken eggs.\n \nI never got the saying, why would I be afraid of cows? But I always dismissed it as a joke, no matter how serious my Mom's face was.\n\nBut today was different. We boarded ourselves in our basement, like a tornado was outside, but there wasn't. \"Oh shit! They found us Mapel!\" My dad yelled, while he was pointing his gun somewhere outside.\n\nI heard footsteps outside, but...different. I knew I recognized that noise! But from where?\n\n*THUD THUD THUD\n\nWhat was that noise? I was scared shitless as I sat there, but I gave it my all to remember that noise.\n\nTHUD THUD THUD\n\nMy family is flippin' shit in the background of my head. But all I cared about was that noise.\n\nTHUD THUD THUD THUD\n\nWhat the hell is that noise!? I tried to remember, I feel like I was about to faint with the amount of concentration I was putting on this stupid noise.\n\nThen it clicked.\n\nHooves! That was it! Wait...Why are there hooves outside?\n\nThen I finally paid attention to my family. \"We should have never used Loan-cows! We should of used a Loan-shark!\"\n\nIt dawned on me.\n\nThe cows came home.\n\nAnd they're pissed.", "The mighty army stood in front of me. A collection of ships, from all the lost countries in Europe, as well as the army of Iceland itself. Some were as petty as fishing ships with a howitzer mounted on top. Others, remnants from WWII outfitted to set sail yet again.\n\nI didn't stand a chance with my company's... well, probably it's now my* oil tanker. Not that I wanted to fight anyway.\n\nA voice cracked through the radio.\n\n\n>Galician Star, this is the command ship of the United Nations of Man. Please, declare your intentions or turn away. Over.\n\n.\n\n>Command, this is Galician Star. We are carrying refugees from Scotland. The United Kingdom has fallen. I repeat, the United Kingdom has fallen. Over.\n\nThe voice seems to pull away from the microphone, as if speaking with someone nearby. After a while, the voice speaks up again, cracking, like if it had cried.\n\n>Galician Star, please, follow us shut to the port. Get all your passengers ready for inspection and quarantine. Over.\n\n.\n\n>Command ship, heading to port. Thanks for the help. Over\n\nThe rest of our crew starts the engine again. The sound of pistons and explosions fill the intercom with the the engineering deck.\n\nBut then a different kind of explosion startles me. A gunfight has broken out in the main deck, where all the refugees are held.\n\nI get my binoculars and see.\n\nWhat I gaze upon chills the blood in my veins and makes me pray upon any gods, if any is still hearing our pleas.\n\nCows.\n\nSomeone must have get bitten, and hid within the refugees. And now turned into a cow and started infecting everyone else. The skirmish is truly a slaughter. Refugees are running as fast as they can towards the upper decks. Others are jumping into the freezing sea. Cows bite and chow anything in their path.\n\nThe radio cracks again, snapping me out of the horror unleashing down there.\n\n>Galician Star! Stop at once! There are infected specimens on your ship!\n\n\nI can do nothing but cry for help\n\n>Command! The cows are massacring the refugees! Do something!\n\n\nOnly silence answers me.\n\nI turn around to a nearby shot. My second in command has shot herself.\n\nThe radio turns alive once again, but speaking with a terrified, known voice:\n\n>Captain! The engineering deck has been overrun! The doors are not going to hold them for much longer!... You, rookie! hold the barricade!... Captain, they're breaking through the...\n\n\nAnother shot at by back. I'm now the only alive being on the ship.\n\nAnd silence.\n\nThere is nothing moving on the ship. The cows, bloodthirsty just a second ago, lay on their bellies on the main deck.\n\nThere is no help for me. No scape. The cold metal of the gun soothes the pain that fills my brain. But, as I'm about to press the trigger, a sound startles me once again. The radio.\n\n>Galician Star, this is command ship. Are there any survivors? Over.\n\n\nI grab the microphone with a shattering force.\n\n>Command, this is Galician Star's Captain. The crew and refugees are gone. I'm the only one left. Don't risk anyone...\n\n\nThe cows, awakened by the conversation, are ramming into the cockpit door. Only half the hinges are in place now.\n\n\n>There are no survivors. Shoot me down\n\n.\n\n\n>Galician Star, confirm the order. Are you sure there are no survivors? We can...\n\n\nThe door is bent down now. A cow stares back at me from the other side. Bloody-shot eyes are piercing my own soul,mounted on a face that still has some resemblance to the poor fellow working on the engines.\n\n>SHOOT DOWN MY SHIP! A CAPTAIN ALWAYS GOES DOWN WITH THE SHIP!!\n\n.\n\n\n>I'm sorry sir. I'm sorry.\n\n\nI close my eyes as I shut down the radio. I pull the gun close to my head, when a howitzer explosion shakes the whole ship. And then another.\n\nThe cow lunges into me to bite my arm. But yet another shot knocks me into a wall. \n\nThe cow runs and slams into the wall, into the place where I had been seconds before.\n\nAnother explosion shocks the ship, launching me through the window into the sea. \n\nI close my eyes as the water embraces me. \n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nLight and pain awake me. My eyes refuse to open completely, but do just enough to let me peer over the situation. I'm being carried by two military-dressed sailors into an infirmary.\n\nI awake covered in bandages. It seems I got scratched all over by a broken glass pane.\n\nThe ship's captain is walking towards me to greet me, but he smells quite funny.\n\nHe smells of food.\n\nAnd I'm hungry." ]	4
	[WP] Stories are never final. Authors retain the ability to go back and re-write published works, even hugely popular ones. Re-write the opening scene of your favorite book as if the author has just had a very public meltdown and is ruining their greatest work out of spite.	[ "When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the\nelbow. When it healed, and Jem’s fears of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury. His left arm was somewhat shorter than his right; when he stood or walked, the back of his hand was at right angles to his body, his thumb parallel to his thigh. He couldn’t have cared less, so long as he could pass and punt.\n\nWhen enough years had gone by to enable us to look back on them, we\nsometimes discussed the events leading to his accident. I maintain that the Ewells started it all, but Jem, who was four years my senior, said it started long before that. He said it began the summer Dill came to us, when Dill first gave us the idea of making Boo Radley come out...\n\nHarper Lee, \"To Kill a Mockingbird,\" July 11th 1960.\n\n--------------------\n\nWhen he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem was the starting-quarterback for the Maycomb Bluejays, with a strong right arm and a healthy left arm with which to aim and balance. He could throw it over 60 feet on a good day, and always claimed that, if it was setting, he could easily throw the ball over the sun. He was such a star in our small, dusty home, that Mr Ewell, the most respectable lawyer Maycomb had to offer, offered to fund his progression to college, thus patronising him for nearly a decade. Atticus protested at that, but nobody listened to him anymore.\n\nWhen Jem left and came back from college several years later, we pondered on a summer long ago. Our minds were misty with the great span of time that had relatively, at least to us, gone by. A time when a young black man was caught raping the daughter of our own Mr Bob Ewell. He led the charge against the villain, we remember, and was able to secure the town against any other vile acts of dissent from their people. But, that was not our story, for we were concerned with making the local legend come out from his house. Which we did, and it was pleasure I'll hold forever in my heart.\n\nYou just don't get it do you?\n\nHarper Lee, \"Shoot all the Bluejays,\" April 11th 1968.\n\n-----------------------------\n\nHopefully ruined it enough. CC is happily welcomed.", "The first sword missed Aidan's head by an inch. It slammed into the massive catapult's wheel, stuck for a moment, and jerked free. In that breath of time, Aidan batted away the second sword and threw himself down the hill.\n\nThis foe was beyond Aidan's skill. His only chance was to... No. He wouldn't run; Aidan decided to stand and fight. The massive warrior barreled down the hill, swords twirling. A quick strike to Aidan's midsection, which Aidan blocked. Another swing, and another parry. Aidan looked for an opening, but the knight's twin blades came too fast to counter. Aidan backpedaled as closer the weapons swung. A dead knight lay on the ground a few feet away.\n\nThe piece of parchment fell out of Aidan's breastplate. He didn't stoop to pick it up, keeping his eyes on the warrior's blades. A sudden blow to the back threw Aidan off his feet and into the warrior, who quickly tossed Aidan's limp form to the side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an enormous black wing in the gray sky.\n\nSuddenly, Aidan was kneeling on a high stone platform. His sword was gone, and his hands were bound behind him. A pale warrior stood tall before him. When he spoke, a shrill ringing came to Aidan's ears. The sound faded and he heard the warrior's words.\n\n\"... loss is your gain. You will have all that was to be theirs and so much more.\" When the warrior spread apart his hands, Aidan saw visions of grand towers, high thrones, and vaults of gold. It was all there for the taking, Aidan knew.\n\n\"All you must do,\" said the warrior, \"is deny the one who abandoned you.\"\n\nAidan remained still for a moment. \"I deny the King of Alleble, and I choose to serve you, my master,\" he said. The warrior's eyes flickered red.\n\n\"Good,\" he hummed.\n\n-------\n\"Uhnnn! Ah, ahhhhh!\" Aidan screamed. He writhed on his bed and knocked the lamp off the table. It crashed to the ground and shattered, awakening Aidan. He shook violently, and his stomach churned. Something heaved inside him. Barely avoiding broken glass, he bolted to the hall bathroom and threw up. He collapsed and rested his head on the toilet seat. Tears were pouring from his eyes.\n\n\"Aidan?\" Came Grampin's voice from the study downstairs. \"Are you okay?\"\n\nAidan stayed quiet. He didn't know why, but he felt like he had made a huge mistake. Even the move across the country didn't compare to the nightmare Aidan had just faced.\n\n---------\n\nThat was the first chapter of The Door Within, by Wayne Thomas Batson, edited to have Aidan make the wrong choice. I highly recommend the actual book, where Aidan makes the right choice!" ]	2
This is sort of Buddhist/Hindu inspired because of the karma concept. To give a religious perspective, you can gain or lose karma based on what you do in your lifetime. When you die, you either 1) spend time in hell if your karma is really low, 2) get reincarnated if your karma didn't change much, or 3) spend time in heaven if your karma was really high.	[WP] You are a member of the Divine Court, where you judge humans with a good deed/evil deed system called Karma. Each person's afterlife is decided based on the karma they had accrued in their lifetime. The Court is thrown into chaos one day as one soul shows up with -9999 karma.	[ "Everybody was panicking. Everybody was surprised. No one had ever seen someone this evil, someone who had surpassed the previous record holder in negative Karma points by three thousand and fifty-seven. This was ground breaking, a once in a lifetime experience. \"Order in the court!\" The judge said as the room fell eerily quiet. \"Let's get this over with. We already know how this is going to end.\" The judge clears her throat, the room tense with the lack of sound present. \"The next 'person' to face the judgement of the divine court is Adolf Hitler, with an astounding negative 9,999 karma.\" Hitler enters the court to scolding faces, shocked expressions of disbelief, and frowns among all of the members of the court. Hitler was smirking. \"Hitler, you have died with a 6 million to one Kill/Death ratio and have left an impact on the modern world so great that they haven't had a war since.\" The Judge said in Fluent German. \"Well, is that good? The Jews died and no more wars were had.\" Hitler retaliated back, again in German. (Not everybody speaks one language on Earth as you might be aware, so the people of the divine court must know all languages on Earth fluently in order to correctly give everybody a fair trial). \"No it is NOT good! 6 Million people died and a war broke out because of you!\" The judge squabbled. She was a woman of a dark skin tone who knew her way around the court and the minds inside of the peoples who enter it. She was sassy at times, but otherwise she was pretty cool. Hitler was ranting on about something on how he did what he did for his people and his country, but no one in the room was really listening, we were all just whispering to each other in disbelief. Was this really the person who broke the records? Apparently it was. And, after about 30 seconds of Hitler 'speaking his case' about why he shouldn't be sent to hell, the Judge hit the big red button on her desk and Hitler dropped out of the court into the fiery depths below to applauds by both the court and the members in hell. \"Alright let's get back to work.\" The Judge said over the applause. \"The next person to be judged by the court is Cecil Allen Little...\"", "\"NEXT!\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe man entered the room, and stood before the podium. Above him was a vacuum-delivery-tube that would ship him straight to heaven, and below him were a set of rather ominous trapdoors. To the left of the podium was a door labelled \" 'Hell' \", though it really lead back to the re-incarnation facility. There, any soul that entered would be shut down, dismantled, sand-blasted and then repainted before having ~~Windows 10~~ $oulDOS_V2.6 installed on it's black box. From there, the freshly cleaned and updated soul would be sent back to earth.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe man looked like countless others The Judge had seen before. Then again, it was standard procedure to reset the appearance to factory default, in order to take race and gender out of the equation.\n\nAnd so he stood there, factory standard graying black hair, general issue suit and tie with a matching briefcase at his side holding who knows what, and a slightly surprised look on his face. Probably not all that evil, and not all that good. Lived a decent life, died a decent death, etc.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Um, who are you? What is this place.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe Judge returned with a friendly grin.\n\n\"Well sir, this is the judging station. Souls line up there, and they get judged here. Naughty falls through those doors, nice gets sucked into the tube.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe man pointed to the 'Hell' door.\n\n\"And there?\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe judge laughed.\n\n\"Oh that's just the re-incarnation plant. Most likely, you'll be going there.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Oh this is- this is like Karma or whatever. I'm just glad I'm talking to a real person, and not some dumb check-out-machine. Heh.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nIronically, his score was calculated by machine, specifically, a Dell Inspiron desktop running windows vista. Truly an OS fit for Lord Lucy himself.\n\nOf course, human lifespans had grown immensely in the past century, and there were now so many of them that it simply was no longer economically feasible to do the calculations by hand.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"You could say it is like karma. Now could you tell me a little about yourself?\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Well, my name is Djambe, and I'd say my life wasn't all that bad. Maybe I snuck into a few R-rated movies, and yeah, there was that one time I had an overdue library book, but overall, I wasn't that bad. Far bigger assholes than me have probably gone through these doors, and hey, I don't trust a man without a dark side, know what I'm sayin? Too bad I got hit by a car when I was like 20, before I could really do something to make myself worthwhile.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe Judge pressed the \"view karma\" button, and the results began to display.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Yeah, I guess so. But hey, you'll be back in the game as soon as you-\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe Judge's face was a mask of unadulterated horror. He blinked once. He blinked twice...But the Nixie tubes didn't change.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nDjambe had a karma of -9999.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nBut it couldn't be! The judge knew an asshole when he saw one, and this wasn't it.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe pressed the button again, and the machine recalculated. But the same numbers re-appeared on the aging tubes.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nDjambe seemed worried.\n\n\"Is something wrong?\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Hold on a sec.\"\n\nThe Judge pressed yet another button on the control panel, summoning the IT guy. Within moments, Mr. Conagher was there. Already examining the scene.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"What seems to be the problem.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe judge pressed the button, and the -9 999 once again displayed on the nixies.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Oh, I see.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe turned towards the computer, and pulled up the debug console. After taking but one look at the sticker on the side, he knew what the problem was.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"'Well there's your problem!\" He exclaimed with a childish grin. \"Your computer's running on a Pentium!\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"What?\" This made no sense to the Judge.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Pentium, it's a CPU made by intel, and it had a faulty Floating Point Unit. Two plus Two could equal five on one of these things!\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe judge sighed. \"English please?\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Well,\" Conagher made his way to the podium. \"Your computer is broken, and due to the over-use of non-integers, the decimal indicator bulb has burned out!\"\n\nConagher unscrewed a tiny glass bulb, and put a new one in, which lit up immediately.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe display now read -9.999.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nDjambe was free to return.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nEDIT: formatting and spelling.\n\nAlso, as a materialist atheist, I just had to take this prompt with a grain of salt.\n", "\"This is an enormous problem,\" said Arbiter One.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Arbiter Two. \"That is why I brought it to your attention.\"\n\nOne continued to review the documents. \"I don't understand how this happened. Don't we have agents in the world to prevent this sort of thing?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Two. \"there is a rather lengthy appendix of the actions they took. Not only did our agents take every allowable action to alter this person's destiny, in some cases a few stepped over the line and broke our own rules.\"\n\nArbiter One was not pleased. \"So we end up looking like the bad guy.\"\n\nTwo shrugged. \"Our interference was not noted.\"\n\nArbiter One stopped looking over the documents. \"That doesn't matter,\" he said, finally. \"We can't let the hearing be swayed one way or another. We can only look at his actions and judge.\"\n\nHe stood, turning away from Arbiter Two and looking out his window. \"Negative nine thousand, nine hundred, and ninety nine.\"\n\n\"It is,\" Arbiter Two added unnecessarily, \"the highest total we've ever seen.\"\n\nArbiter One turned away from the vista in front of him. \"From now until the hearing, which we must delay as long as we possibly can, I want you and your team to research every possible avenue, every possible interpretation of this man's actions. I want that total changed. Do you understand? We've gone fifteen thousand years without admitting someone to the heavens. We're not starting now.\"" ]	3
	[WP] You are a demon who was chosen to blend in with humanity and collect souls. What you don't know is you specifically were chosen because you aren't very good at being a demon and Hell didn't want to deal with you anymore. You room with a necromancer who goes by the name Dave. He is annoying.	[ "I stare at him across the breakfast table. He was eating granola again. He chewed with his mouth open - his gaping maw and smacking lips reminding me of a barnyard animal. I tap my claw on the table and stare at him. I'm not very good with conflict, which is why I ended up here. Dave is oblivious to my hatred. He reads the news on his phone and continues slopping granola into his mouth like a cow who just learned to walk upright. \n\n\"Huh. That's odd.\" Dave speaks without looking up from his phone. He knows I'm sitting right here. He doesn't volunteer any information. He makes his barely intelligible grunts so that he puts me in the position of asking what's happening instead of him just saying what he has to say. I always tell myself I won't take the bait this time. I always take it. \n\n\"What's that?\" I inwardly curse myself ever time. This only encourages him. \n\n\"There's a ...\" He pauses here to shovel another moist spoonful of soggy granola into his vacuous mouth. He chews as he speaks. I hate him so much I'm thinking of killing his parents just because they brought such a person into this world. \"There was a five car pile-up on the loop yesterday. Six dead, four injured. Think we should head down to the morgue tonight for a few spare parts?\"\n\nI'd rather he was the one in the morgue. I want to shout at him to rot in Hell, but I don't. \"Sure, what time?\" \n\nHe stands up with his mostly empty bowl and takes it to the sink. He puts the bowl in the sink without rinsing it. The ounce of milk left in there will sour today while he's out. By this evening, when he thinks to clean it, the whole kitchen will have that tangy sour smell of milk that has turned. He'll ask me to clean it with my magic and I'll do it because the smell turns my stomach. I honestly think he might be genetically related to swine. \n\n\"Not hungry?\" he asks as he points at my half-eaten English muffin (lightly buttered). \n\n\"Something isn't agreeing with me.\" It's a true statement. I just didn't volunteer that he was the one making me ill. \n\nHe leaves for work and I'm left at home all day. His necromancy is a fun hobby but it doesn't pay the bills. Every time I walk into the kitchen, I see that milk in a bowl in the sink and I feel my anger rise like a red tide. I leave it there convincing myself that I'm doing to make a point. I'm not sure if the point I'm making is that he should be more responsible, if I am not his servant, or if actions have consequences. I don't care which it is. \n\nI stand him up later that night on the morgue trip. I don't call or text. It's my open petty revenge. Make him re-animate the dead without my help. Just like the unwashed cereal bowl. I am a demon from Hell - not a housekeeper. ", "\"That useless, lazy fucking arsehole\"\n\nIt was bad enough working the nightshift at the hospital but when you come back to a flat which stinks of rotting corpse and sulfur and your useless roommate who concocted this mess has fucked off to his pit then you start to contemplate your own existence.\n\n\"What have I done to deserve this? What could I possibly have done to be stuck with this prick?\"\n\nIt's been nearly two years since I was sent upstairs, they all congratulated me on my big promotion, saying that \"You'll have a great time, just try not to kill too many of the primitives\" or \"It'll be the start of a new adventure\".\n\nBollocks.\n\nDon't get me wrong, there are far, far worse places that I could have been sent to than Scotland, I mean the primitives here are fascinating to watch and to be truthful, I have made, what is it they call them, oh yeah \"friends\".\n\nI suppose my disguise isn't too bad either, I mean I prefer working in the hospital, collecting the souls of those near-death is far easier than taking an unwilling one though I always took shit for that downstairs, they said it was \"fitting\" for a demon to prefer taking the nearly-dead than a ripe, living one but something about the idea just put me off, might be the blood and screaming.\n\nThe seniors said that I was the best suited for the job and that after three years, they'd review my work and see if there was a position available back downstairs but I'm starting to think they've forgot about me, I only get updates every couple of months and they're just generic \"Great job, keep it up\" type messages. \n\nThat said, Dave has turned out to be an annoying little prick since I've arrived. He started out as my \"liaison\" of sorts, I mean necromancers are one of the few primitives which can communicate with downstairs and they are trusted to help demons that move upstairs to work.\n\nHe leaves rotting human remains around the house, the few \"successes\" he's had all ended up wrecking some part of the flat, the last one managed to rip the sink out of the bathroom and he eats everything, and I mean everything and never replaces it.\n\nI lived with an Incubus and Succubus for a year back downstairs and even they, the sex-crazed animals they are, were less of a nightmare to live with than him. \n\n\"I just want to have my dinner and then go to my bed\"\n\nReaching into the fridge, I take my leftover dinner from the shelf only to be met with a yellow post-it note with \"Sorry, I'll replace it\" written on it.\n\n\"I'm going to ram this plate so far up his arse that he'll be tasting it for weeks\"", "“Damn you Dave! Damn you straight back to Home”\n\nHe was doing it again. The dark lord had given me my infernal mission, to bring him 500 righteous souls and stop them joining the armies of heaven. Here I was about to harvest 3 new ones and Dave resurrects them. He’s always doing this, beating me to the punch.\n\n“Why do you need more zombies? What’s wrong with you?” I roared at him, my claws twitched eager to rend him limb from limb.\n\n“Have you seen the dishes? They’re piling up man someone’s got to clean them and only one of us appears to have a job.”\n\nThat one hurt, I have to admit. A job would help me blend in but my glamour is poor, everyone gets uncomfortable around. Plus no matter what I do there’s always a faint smell of brimstone following me around. Besides, Dave considered himself a “pro gamer” that’s not a real job Dave!\n\n“Come on Dave, I’ve got to harvest 500 pure souls, I’ve got nothing so far.” My voice had taken on a more whining candescence as I said that. I hated myself sometimes.\n\n“Hey, you didn’t kill them they’re fair game. Besides you ate the zombie I used for vacuuming.”\n\nI stared at the wreckage trying to work out how to take credit for this crash. I’d wanted to cause it, I really did. I was going to possess the driver and cause a massive pile up. Unfortunately while I was working up the nerve some little kids started throwing rocks over the bridge. But hey, the prince of darkness never said I had to kill all the souls myself, just collect them. Unfortunately Mr “I only wear black because it matches my soul” started casting and bound the souls to himself to resurrect later.\n\nDepressed I wandered back to our apartment on the edge of town. We passed Old Mrs Sanchez as we walked up the stairs she flinched back from me, she could tell something was wrong but couldn’t place her finger on it, she wrinkled her nose and hurried down the stairs. \n\nI’d considered breaking into her apartment and devouring her soul once, but she’d spent too much time around her amoral estranged husband when she was younger. Her soul was ruined, it would be like eating week old sushi.\n\nWe entered the apartment and I sighed, another night alone. It was succubus night down in the dark circle, my old watering hole, but I couldn’t return home, not without the souls.\n\n“Come on Dave, lets go cause some mayhem, you’ve got plenty of zombies I’ll even split the souls with you fifty-fifty”.\n\n “Goddammit!” I recoiled as he shouted the epithet “I’ve told you already, I don’t kill people! Just turn them into mindless pawns to control as I see fit. It’s different.”\n\nHe flopped onto the couch and commanded three zombies to grab a controller and join him for some co-op games Frustrated and tired I retreated to my room and grabbed by ducky blanket and went to sleep.\n\n\n\nBack in the living room a fifth player connected to Daves Game.\n\n“666LuciferNoScope has joined the game.” Flashed up on Daves screen, a voice began to talk through his headset, it was soft and smooth, full of promise. The voice drew out its s’s adding a slightly sinister cast to its otherwise honeyed-voice.\n\n“How isss it’sss progresss?” The voice asked.\n\n“Still at zero souls my lord. I stopped him from acquiring three today. He really is pathetic sir” Dave replied\n\n“I know, that isss why he cannot be allowed to return keep him there and our bargain will continue” The voice promised.\n\n“So I’ll definitely win the Atlantic Open then?” Dave asked, his voice perking up while he remained slouched.\n\n“Ass we agreed. The competition is being dealt with asss we sspeak.”\n\n“And what about the rest of our deal?” \n\n“Doritiosss has agreed to ssponssor you, your first ssshipment arrives next month.”\n\n“You’re the best Lucy” Dave replied, before jumping up in his seat shouting. “Oh Come on! You were looking at my screen you little shit” With a wave of his hand one of the zombies was reduced to dust. At a mental command another came over to take its place.\n\nBack in its room the Demon pulled a pillow over its head. Dave was shouting again, this could go on all night “Daves the worst” It mumbled to itself “One day, one day I’ll eat him, that’ll show him.”\n" ]	3
	[WP] "I can't hit him. He's a priest!" "He's turned. He's a zombie!" "But he's still a priest!"	[ "\"Do you fear death?\" asked the man in the gray robe.\n\nOitur slowly gulped, keeping his eyes closed. His knees seemed to soak up the cold of the temple floor.\n\n\"Your shaking is visible. Why not ask that god of yours for help? If he is as powerful as you seem to believe, wouldn't it be a simple matter for him to save you? Of course, you know that he will not help you at all. At least he did nothing to help this poor fellow.\"\n\nOitur could not resist opening his eyes, and one meter before him he saw the gray robed man, who had walked into the temple brandishing a sword. Held up by the gray robed man's long, thin fingers was the head of the temple's head priest. Attached to it was a frail body with a deep, bleeding gash across its chest.\n\n\"So, do you fear death?\" the man in gray asked once more.\n\n\"N-n-n-o-o,\" stammered Oitur, remembering how father Parth had heroically stood in front of the sword wielding man.\n\n\"Good, because death does not fear you either.\" At this, the gray robed man handed Oitur his sword, hilt first. His other hand released father Parth's body.\n\nBy instinct, Oitur took hold of the sword before it hit the ground. He looked down at his hands holding the hilt. Then he looked up at father Parth. Instead of hitting the ground like a normal corpse, its arms were propping it up. It raised its head, and those empty eyes stared at Oitur unblinkingly.\n\nOitur jumped back, still holding the sword. \"Ernasti save me!\"\n\n\"How can Ernasti save you from the death he does not understand?\" asked the gray robed man. \"It is interesting, no? How the dead hate the living and the living hate the dead?\"\n\nThe gray robed man gestured to the thing on the ground, which was in the middle of standing up. \"Can you feel the hate seeping out of it? It is jealous because you have something he wants. That life of yours, why not give it to him?\"\n\n\"Please save me,\" Oitur, his back against a wall, begged of the gray robed man.\n\n\"Save you? Save yourself. You have a sword. Why not give his soul some rest?\"\n\n\"I can't hurt that man. He's a priest.\"\n\n\"He is no longer alive. Of course you can hurt it.\"\n\n\"We're in a Temple of Ernasti.\"\n\n\"Of course, the self styled god of peace. Let me tell you a secret. Ernasti is nowhere near as peaceful as he might lead you to believe.\"\n\nAt this point, Parth was closing in on Oitur. His skin was now as gray as the gray robed man's robe. With every step, the trail of crimson behind him grew thinner. Oitur closed his eyes and with both hands, swung the sword at Parth's head.\n\nThe gray robed man moved faster than the eye could see, and managed to catch the priest's head before it his the ground. Oitur was still frozen in fear, and the corpse just in front of him fell forwards. \n\nOn its way down, one of the arms shot towards Oitur's neck. The pinky finger broke with a snap, but the middle and ring fingers speared Oitur's throat. The other hand impaled Oitur's belly with a similarly fragmented hand. Oitur tried to scream, but only gurgling sounds came out. The sword clattered to the ground as he grabbed at the hand which had killed him.\n\nIn the end, the result of Oitur's struggles was a large crimson pool on the floor of the temple.\n\nThe gray robed man frowned at the little flecks of brown and black on his straw sandals, and sighed to himself.\n\n\"I still have seven more to go today. I wonder how mad Birna will be if I just take a nap.\"\n\nAs he left, Parth's decapitated body was still ripping Oitur apart." ]	1
	[WP] In the distant future, nobody is named Gary. Nobody, that is, except for you. You are..."The Last Gary".	[ "\"May I see your ID sir?\"\nThe woman at the desk reached for my identification tag, I hesitated.\n\"Sir, I need to scan your identification tag before we can continue\" I extended my wrist toward her and she scanned my tag. My info popped up on the holoscreen between us. \"Gary Waze Androidius the Fourth?\" She spoke with a disgusted tone, \"You must be joking!\" I shook my head \"I must say, that is extremely offensive!\"\nI didn't want to tell her that my parents were sympathizers of the Googlian regime. Oh you don't know? Well basically, the Googlian regime, lead by Gary Waze Androidius the Third was responsible for starting the second galactic war 60 cycles ago, way before I was born, and for destroying the entire Sol system with two antimatter bombs, ultimately destroying almost the entirety of the Terran race; supposedly the original humans. The name \"Gary\" fell out of popularity after the war, but my parents, being the insane Googlians that they were, named me after him and were ultimately executed for doing so.\n\"I'm uhhh.... I'm here to ask about the status of my name change request.\"\nThe woman's glare softened\n\"Oh I see, I can understand that.\" She made some hand gestures to scroll through data on the holoscreen \"It says here that you issued a request to the Cygnus Arm Census Database 7 and a half cycles ago?\" I nodded \"But you used a regular radio transmission. Honey, those are meant for local communications, this request will take hundreds of years to reach the database.\" I pouted and hung my head \"oh\" I sighed heavily \"The other people didn't tell me that.\"\nThe woman patted me on the shoulder reassuringly \"We can send an FTL transmission and it will be there in no time.\"\nI perked up, my eyes widened \"Really?!\"\nThe woman smiled and said \"And it only costs 1000 credits!\"\nI felt my whole body drain \"But mam I don't have that kind of money.\"\nThe woman sighed \"Sorry, but I can't help you if you don't have the credits.\" There was an awkward pause before the woman turned her gaze over to the queue behind me \"NEXT!\". I was shoved out of the way by the next customer in line.\n\nAll hope wasn't lost, it should only take me two tenth cycles to panhandle that many credits and another tenth cycle of waiting in line then I can finally change my name to something more acceptable, like Adolph Stalin." ]	1
	[WP] As it turns out, the Illuminati are real. However, their plans are much less evil than people actually think.	[ "The room was dark. Men clad in dark red robes stood around an enormous mahogany table, chanting in Enochian dialects the ancient prayers that called upon the Higher Power to dispel chaos and bring Order to the room. The High Priest raised his hands high and called for the chanting to cease, and the men were immediately silenced, seating themselves around the table.\n\n\"Gentlemen, welcome once again to the Secret Covenant Meeting of the Highest Illuminati,\" said the High Priest, who, when out of this room, was a high-profile businessman with a supermodel wife. In here, however, he was the central arbiter of a global conspiracy that found its way into every aspect of human life.\n\n\"As you all know, our goals are...\"\n\n\"Um, Your Omnipotence, I apologise for interrupting, but...\" called a man with a quivering voice from the other side of the table, frozen by the High Priest's death glare. \"...I'm new here.\"\n\n\"Did you not attend the onboarding meeting we hold every Tuesday?\"\n\n\"Um...n-no, I had...I mean, Your Omnipotence, I had a dentist's appointment.\"\n\nThe High Priest pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. \"Jesus Christ. Okay. Let's just stop the whole Secret Covenant of the Illuminati so the newbie can get clued up. Fred, would you start us off?\"\n\nA fat man in a dark red robe holding a staff stood up.\n\n\"Fred, do you really need that stick - \"\n\n\"It's called a Staff of Power, actually,\" replied the fat man, in a nasal voice.\n\n\"Do you really need the Staff of Power with you, Fred? I mean, it's not even part of the traditional garb - \"\n\n\"I'M A WIZARD, YOUR OMNIPOTENCE. AN ILLUMINATI WIZARD.\"\n\n\"There's no such thing as a - okay, fine, fuck it. You're a wizard. Just take us through the basics so the newbie knows what's going on.\"\n\n\"Yes, Your Omnipotence! The Illuminati has control over every aspect of human existence! We shape the reality tunnel in which all conscious beings reside! All governments and corporations are under our control, or soon will be! And it is all to further our agenda of establishing a New World Order!\"\n\nThe newbie raised his hand. \"Um...so...Fred?\"\n\n\"THAT'S THE HONORABLE FRED TO YOU, NEWBIE!\" screeched the fat man.\n\n\"Honorable Fred, exactly what does the Illuminati...do?\"\n\nThe fat man paused. He looked over at the high priest. The priest nodded. \"Are you sure you wish to know this secret? For once you know...the secret can never leave this room. You must swear to me. A blood oath. If you divulge the secrets of the Illuminati...your soul will be condemned to eternal damnation.\"\n\nThe newbie audibly swallowed. \"I understand.\"\n\nThe fat man inhaled.\n\nHe drummed his fingers on the table.\n\nHe clutched his chin as though trying to find a way of wording it.\n\n\"Newbie, have you ever...lost a pair of socks in the dryer?\"\n\nThe newbie's mouth fell open. \"Why, yes.\"\n\n\"And...pens, do you ever find they just...evaporate out of existence?\"\n\n\"Yes! All the time.\"\n\nThe fat man nodded slowly, deeply. \"That's us.\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"That's us. That's all us. When you can't find your sock? Illuminati. When you can't find a pen, Illuminati. When that coin you swore you had in your jeans not a day ago goes missing, Illuminati.\"\n\nThe newbie was rendered speechless.\n\n\"Well?\" said the High Priest. \"Are you satisfied?\"\n\nThe newbie's mouth was agape.\n\n\"Th...\" he stammered. \"That's it?\"\n\n\"Uh, yeah,\" replied the High Priest. \"Why?\"\n\n\"But...but what about...the Moon Landings? JFK? 9/11? Princess Diana?\"\n\nThe entire room erupted in laughter.\n\nThe High Priest wiped a tear from his eye. \"Oh, you can blame that on ol' Pranky Hank as we call him. He loves visiting conspiracy forums in his spare time. How long have you been doing it now, Hank?\"\n\n\"Uh, since '87,\" called a voice from across the table.\n\nThe newbie put his head in his hands. \"Is that it? Is that all the Illuminati do?\"\n\n\"Oh, well, no,\" the High Priest said. \"I mean, we do other stuff. Joe over there is a member of the FCC. He likes to sneak Illuminati symbolism into cartoons, movies and video games just to freak people out.\"\n\n\"It's true, I do,\" Joe said, humbly.\n\n\"Are the Illuminati responsible for anything in the past century that has had any relevance to world events?!\" cried the newbie.\n\n\"Oh, well, there was that one thing,\" said Hank. \"Uh, the whatchimacallit...the thing with the cat. Y'know, with the face.\"\n\n\"GRUMPY CAT?!\" screamed the newbie. \"YOU FUCKERS MEAN TO TELL ME YOU DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH 9/11, OR THE ASSASSINATION OF JOHN F. KENNEDY, BUT YOU INVENTED FUCKING GRUMPY CAT?!\"\n\n\"Woah, settle down,\" said the High Priest.\n\n\"NO!\" yelled the newbie. \"FUCK YOU GUYS.\" He tore off his robe to reveal a suit underneath. He stormed out of the room, muttering \"Eight years at Harvard Law School for this...\"\n\nThe door slammed.\n\nThere was a silence.\n\n\"Well,\" said the High Priest. \"At least he didn't find out who was really behind 9/11.\"\n\nThe other men all nodded, fearfully, whispering among themselves.\n\nOn the other side of the room, enveloped in shadow, was a painting of a certain President of the United States..." ]	1
	[WP] A man with blood shot eyes and a horrified look on his face stumbles up to you in the middle of the street. He looks positively terrified as he places a cell phone in your hand, whispers 'I'm so sorry', and walks away; you're standing there in bewildered shock when the phone begins to ring.	[ "A car drove by, illuminating the rest of the street—the guy, nowhere to be found. The ringing started to eat away at me, compelling my attention. \"Hello?\" \n\n\"What the hell Tom?! Where's the package?!\" Behind me, another car drove by, it's engine registering against the piece. \"And where the fuck are ya?!\"\n\n\"Sorry, some guy just gave this phone to me.\" I'd have given it away myself if this was what was waiting for me on the other end.\n\n\"What the fuck?!\" A shuffling noise blasted through—and a fast mumbling and obvious screaming went on behind the guy's hand or whatever he did to stay the commotion. \"Okay John.\"\n\nI ended the call. I was John, and he spoke with such certainty it freaked me out.\n\nThe phone started ringing again, and another car passed me, it's headlights illuminating the walls in front.\n\nI turned off the phone, and removed it's sim, better safe than sorry—just as another car passed.\n\nIt stopped.\n\n\"What the fuck is up with you John?!\" The same voice shouted from behind.", "I used to take walks on early Sunday mornings. I liked the feeling of the cold air on my face. It made me feel awake, aware. I took the same route every week; out my front door and left towards the florist shop where I bought flowers for my wife. We used to walk this route together. It'd been almost a year since she went missing. \n\nFrom the florist's I took a right onto the only tree-lined street in town. A fresh blanket of snow covered the sidewalk and created a thick canopy of white in the treetops above. Snowfall has a way of making everything seem quiet and isolated. I let myself savor the moment as I created the first footsteps on the path, hearing my boots crushing the snow underfoot. I closed my eyes and breathed in the crisp air of winter. \n\nI was thrown out of my reverie by the sound of a door creaking open a few houses down. I continued to walk as I saw an older man nimbly descend his stairs and approach his mailbox. As I neared, he turned his head sharply and fixated his eyes on me. They were old eyes, weary and bloodshot. The bags under his eyes told me he hadn't slept soundly in days. His hair was wiry and unkempt, and a scraggly beard lined his chin. I smiled weakly at him as I approached, wondering what he must be going through that had him in such a terrible state. \n\nWhen I reached him, he grabbed my gloved hand with both of his and pressed a small object into my palm, folding my fingers over it as he stepped away. His terror was palpable as he whispered in a scratchy voice, \"I'm so sorry\". His eyes revealed genuine remorse as he began to back away, mumbling \"I'm sorry.\" A phone began to ring, and I realized it was the object he had pressed into my hand. Those bloodshot eyes widened when he heard the sound and he broke into a sprint down the road, leaving his footprints in the snow. \n\nI stood there dumbfounded while the phone continued to ring. The display showed no caller ID. My immediate thought was that the man was disturbed and that this was someone checking in on him. I slide my finger across the screen and answered. \n\n\"Hello?\" I wasn't sure why, but my voice sounded hoarse and nervous. \n\n\"352. 352. 352. \" responded a robotic female voice followed my silence. \n\nI looked around the area hoping to find some explanation of what had happened. Silence. The man's front door was slightly open, but his footprints led away down the street. I ran and followed them hoping to find him. A man of that age couldn't have gotten far. I was panting slightly when I reached the end of the street where the footprints ended. Both left and right the snow lay undisturbed. \n\nI walked back to the man's home, literally retracing my own footsteps. Perhaps someone was there who could help. Hesitantly, I knocked on the door. \n\n\"Hello! Is anyone home?\" I called out as I craned my neck into the hallway. Hearing no response, I entered cautiously. \n\nTo the left was a small living room with plush furniture and a cracking fireplace, to the right a study with large bookcases. A staircase lay ahead with steps leading up and down and behind it the hallway continued. A grandfather clock chimed the hour deep within the home. \n\n\"Hello,\" I called again, my voice still hoarse and uncomfortable in my throat. \n\nCuriosity propelled me into the study. Three of the four walls were lined with shelves filled to the brim with dusty tomes. The fourth wall supported a large bay window overlooking the snowy street. In a far corner of the room sat a small figure in an armchair holding a book on its lap. \n\n\"Hello, excuse me,\" I said as I approached. It appeared to be an older woman, perhaps the man's wife. \"Excuse me, I think your husband just ran down the street. He didn't seem alright. Hello?\" I was only a few feet away from her now, speaking loudly but she didn't seem to hear. She was looking down intently at the book, not moving. My hand reached out to touch her shoulder and my fingers felt only ice. \n\nI quickly recoiled, startled and shocked. \"She's dead,\" I thought to myself. I rifled through my coat pockets, trying to find my own phone to call the police. \n\n\"Not yet,\" croaked the woman. She lifted her head from the book and looked directly at me with glassy eyes. \"We're not dead yet,\" she repeated. \n\n\"Ma'am, w-was that your husband outside? He's disappeared. He doesn't seem okay,\" I said frantically. The woman stared at me blankly with no expression then returned to her book. She was covered in dust like she hadn't moved in years.\n\n\"Excuse me, can you help me? I think your husband has run off,\" I said even though I didn't see a purpose in asking her. \n\n\"308. 308. 308,\" she said in a high, clear voice that could have been hers as a younger woman. \n\nThe grandfather clock chimed again. I ran for the front door, but the window caught my eye. There was no longer snow outside. Instead it was a bright spring day, the trees has blossomed and their pink petals littered the sidewalk below. \n\nI reached for the handle and pulled, but the door didn't budge. I used both of my hands and used my entire body weight. I pounded and punched. Nothing. \n\nI reached for my phone and dialed 911. \n\n\"352. 352. 352,\" responded the same robotic voice as before. I hung up and rushed into the adjacent living room, hoping to find something to pry open the door or to break the glass panes. \n\nI stopped dead in my tracks as I entered the room. My wife stood in front of me, wearing the same dress she had been wearing the day she went missing, a plain navy blue with lace sleeves I had bought for her birthday. \n\n\"Leah! Leah! Oh my god, you're okay,\" I shouted as I ran toward her with open arms, tears welling up in my eyes. As I went to embrace her, my hands felt ice again. \"Oh no,\" I thought. \n\n\"No! No!\" I screamed as I shook her by the arms. Dust scattered. \n\n\"351. 351. 351,\" whispered Leah in what was unmistakably her voice. \n\nSome force within me forced the numbers into my head and out of my mouth, \"352. 352. 352\" \n\n", "\"Nope,\" I say, as I throw down the phone, smashing it into the cold pavement and shattering it into a hundred pieces. As I sprinted away I thought to myself, \"glad I didn't take that call.\" On the way home I stopped at Taco Bell and got a Cheesy Gordita Crunch and a Baja Blast. They were delicious. I slept like a baby that night, and I lived happily ever after, which very possibly could never have happened had I taken that one call that one time. ", "Ring. Ring.\n\nThe sound of the ringing cellphone was sharp and clear, despite standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk in the middle of the day. I spun wildly in circles, searching for the man that had thrust the damn thing into my hands. His face was drenched in sweat, as if he'd just run a marathon. The muscles around his mouth were drawn taught with fear; his lips were pulled in a tight frown, as if he thought the moment he opened his mouth his life would fly out of him. But it was his eyes, red as blood, almost bulging out of his sockets. One look into this man's eyes were enough to chill me to the bone. It was a primal response to the almost uncontrollable fear emanating from him. Some base part of me half expected to see a velociraptor charging towards us.\n\nRing. Ring.\n\nIt was no use, anyways, trying to find him. I couldn't even tell you what color his eyes were. Everything went foggy for the second that I held his eyes, then suddenly he was gone, and I was left holding this dinosaur of a phone. I think it was one of those old Nokia phones - a single piece of scuffed black plastic, a small screen covering the top half, and a keypad covering the bottom half. A keypad. Really? The phone itself seemed to have been through hell, and then some. It wasn't just scuffed, now that I looked closer. It had small, deep scratches all along the back, and the plastic had been chipped off along the sides. I'd heard rumors that these old things could handle a lot of abuse, but damn.\n\nRing. Ring.\n\nI looked at the caller ID. Unknown, of course. Why wouldn't it be? I could feel the blood pounding through the fingers that held the phone. Despite the sweat starting to gather on my brow, and my heart burning through my life's allotment of heartbeats like a Hummer guzzling fuel, my hand was surprisingly steady. I realized I hadn't moved since my fateful encounter, while indifferent men and women went about their day, lattes in hand.\n\nRing.\n\nI answered it. I don't know why, to tell you the truth. It was partially to shut up that grating, high pitched sound that my ears had become laser focused on. It was partially that something inside me had broken. My fear was subsiding. It wasn't that I wasn't afraid; it was that I was sick of speculating, of waiting. It was the final flipping of the bird of the doomed man before the executioner pulled the electric chair's switch.\n\n\"John Morris, 20 Trelby Way, Apartment 23C.\"\n\nThe voice was the smooth, husky voice of a female operator. She enunciated clearly, professionally, calmly. For a split second, I allowed myself a little bit of hope. Idiot.\n\n\"This is he. May I ask who's calling?\" I answered, as if I was talking to the receptionist from my doctor's office. Again, you don't have to say it. I'm an idiot.\n\n\"Do you want to live?\"\n\nA strange sensation of clarity washed over me. Intellectually, I should've been scared enough to turn my pants brown, right then and there. Not only did this other party have enough power to arrange my meeting with some other poor guy they'd played their little games with, but they likely knew everything about me. They could end me at any second, and I'd never know. Hell, that guy was probably dead, slumped in an alleyway somewhere, and that would probably be me even if I play their game. But when faced with the very real possibility of death, I found my truest self, hidden under the depths of civility. The faces swarming around me were no longer apathetic strangers. They were obstacles to my survival. Would I kill all of them if it meant surviving another minute?\n\n\"Yes.\"", "I knew I shouldn't have taken the shortcut through the park.\n\nIn a list of all the decisions I've ever made it was probably the second worst. \n\nThe worst would be answering that phone. I don't know why I did it. \n\nI assumed the worst case scenario would be someone trying to prank me, but even then the look on that man's face was one of pure terror so I was pretty freaked out.\n\nOnce I answered the phone I was answered by a lot of static. I tried saying hello and thought it was a signal problem, as soon as I thought of disconnecting the call the line went silent. Not only the line but the whole street went silent. No crickets chirping. No wind. Physically I was still in the street but I could feel my mind wandering somewhere I shouldn't be. Then I heard the deep,gravely voice\n\nSubmit, or Suffer.\n\nI was like a deer in the headlights. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't put the phone down. I tried to open my mouth but the words just wouldn't come out. Maybe it was the voice, maybe it was the words it said.\n\nI can sense the fear in your mind, child. Choose quickly or I will do so for you \n\nAt this point my mind couldn't process anything I just kept thinking Submit over and over in my mind hoping this thing would understand. Luckily , it did.\n\nYou have chosen wisely, child. Pass on the device to the next human you see. Build my army. The reckoning is coming.\n\nAs I came back to my senses I hoped it was just a blackout or a bad dream but when I checked my reflection in a parked cars window I realised we were all screwed. I had the same bloodshot eyes and messed up hair as the person who handed me the phone. \n\nSo I did the only thing my mind would allow me now.\n\nLook for a new comrade.", "\"I'm so sorry\". The man whispers in my ear and walks away. \n\nWhat a freak. It's a wonder what people do to themselves. I looked at him and all I felt was disgust. \n\nAnd what am I supposed to do with his phone? Is this even his phone? Did he steal it? \n\nI wanted to get rid of this thing as soon as possible. I liked keeping out of trouble. As I was debating whether or not I should hand the phone over to the police, it rang. \n\nIt was an unknown number. Out of habit, before i could actually think about my decision, I answered the phone. \n\n\"Hello? Who is this?\" I said, careful not to show my irritation.\n\n\"Hello Daniel, how have you been?\" Said the voice on the other side. No, it's not possible. That voice. I had heard it before, I had heard it throughout my life till a few years ago. \n\n\"What the actual fuck? What kind of sick joke is this?\" \n\n\"My son, I have been watching over you\"\n\nWho was this woman? Why was she doing this to me? I know, I know I was guilty. But this punishment was too much. Too much. I was crying. I'm I shouldn't have done that to her. \n\nBut I loved her so much. And she was giving me away, she loved him more than me. She was going to marry him. I shouldn't have done what I did. Oh god why mother? Why did you choose him? \n\n\"Son, come to me. I know you can, I know you need me, and I promise you it'll be just the two of us. Just us, Ralph won't meet us here. I'll feed you ice cream and tuck you into bed like I always did, we'll be together again. Everything you did is forgiven\" \n\nThis was the voice that belonged to a woman who gave me icecream treats. The voice of a woman who tucked me into bed every night. The voice of the woman who lost her life a few years ago. \nAnd just like that, my decision was clear. I knew what I had to go to get her to love me again. And I was going to do it, it would be hard, but I was mad for my mothers love. \nSo I knew. \n\nI just had one more thing to do before I left, as I handed over the phone to the next person I saw. I knew what the phone was going to do to him, so I whispered to him, the words that brought me here. \n\n\"I'm so sorry.\"\n\nI was coming, ma.", "Bob chased the Stranger into the alley, but when he got there, the Stranger was gone. Sure, the Stranger was a short distance away from him, but the alley was long. There was simply no way the Stranger could have vanished that quickly. Bob glanced around, a ringing phone in his hand, confused, lost, and now, scared.\n\nWarily, he answered the phone, “Hello?”\n\nNothing. Only light breathing, growing heavier by the second, and fast footsteps - very fast. Bob frowned, raising his voice, “Hello? Who’s this?”\n\nStill no answer.\n\n“Okay, look, I don’t know who you are, or why-” Bob lost all speech as pain tore through his right shoulder. The thunderous sound echoed in his deafened ears. He fell down on the asphalt, face first, blood pooling all around him. He screamed, not hearing his own voice. He flailed, not feeling his own limbs. But the street was empty on both sides, and his only company was the flickering streetlight. He glanced again at the street, and there he saw the silhouette of a woman, holding something resembling a stick. She walked slowly toward him.\n\n“Help!” Bob shouted. The woman didn’t speed her pace, but she still moved toward him.\n\nThe woman was near him now, and he saw that what he thought as a stick was, in fact, a rifle. Bob couldn’t think straight, so he asked for help, his voice faltering as life flowed away from him. The woman knelt beside Bob, turned him over.\n\nThe woman frowned, “You’re not him.”\n\n“What...” Bob asked through gritted teeth, “Help... me... please. I’m bleeding… I… help… me.”\n\nShe grabbed him by the lapels, and held him up. For a moment, Bob thought she was going to help him. Then she put her finger in his wound. He screamed, and she matched his voice with her very own question, “Where is the man that gave you this phone?”\n\nBob answered her with a scream. She twisted harder, then let go. Bob stared blankly, trying to catch his breath. She asked again and, before he could answer, she twisted hard. He screamed. She let go.\n\n“Where. Is. He?” the woman asked slowly.\n\nBob closed his eyes, his breathing ragged, his cheeks as wet as his pants. His wound burned. Everything felt cold, and it grew colder by the second. He could still hear.\n\n“Where is he?” the woman shouted. He could no longer feel if she was twisting his wound or not. He was far too numb.\n\nThen he heard another voice. “Behind you.”\n\nBob felt the woman let go, then his head hit the asphalt. He heard a gunshot. He felt something heavy fall on top of him. He tried to open his eyes, but they were far too heavy.\n\nHe heard someone laugh beside him - a loud, mad laugh.\n\n“I did it!” the Stranger shouted, “I won! Now, give me my three wishes, I won!”\n\nAnother voice came from the end of the alley, or maybe it was nearby, Bob could no longer be sure. “Yes, you have. All the contestants are dead. Congratulations on winning the Tournament. I’ll grant your three wishes, and with it, I can grant you the world, an empire, supernatural abilities and even immortality, but you should note that this man is still alive. Barely, true, and will no longer live lest I do it, but still alive nonetheless. I can still revive him, if you wish.”\n\nThe Stranger ignored the newcomer, “Why should I waste one of my wishes? My first wish is...”\n\nDarkness came over Bob, and he could no longer hear, see, or feel. One thing he was sure of, was that the Stranger didn’t use one of his wishes for him.", "\"Well, aren't you going to answer that?\" My wife exited the store she was shopping inside of and saw the phone ringing in my hand. \"Wait... that's not your normal phone. Since when did you have that?\"\n\n\"Some guy on the street gave it to me.\" I looked down at the flip phone inside of my hand and frowned. \"He stumbled up to me, looked terrified, and left this phone in my hand before I could possibly respond.\"\n\nMy wife glanced at the phone in my hand and looked at my face once more. \"Well, it's still ringing... are you going to answer it?\"\n\n\"Hell no. That's scary. What if it's a bomb or something?\" I looked up at the sky. \"What could possibly so terrifying about this phone?\" The phone stopped ringing. \n\nNothing happened. Both of us sighed in relief. \n\n\"What would you have done if it was a bomb?\" My wife frowned upon me. \"It's probably just a phone from a crazy ex trying to stalk him.\"\n\n\"Why do you say that, and what makes you so sure?\" I was confused. \"My first thoughts would have probably been possession of a demon.\"\n\n\"You only think that because you read too many fantasy books, hun. Anyways, do you want to keep the phone or turn it in to the police?\" \n\n\"We should probably give it to the police, what if it's something crazy?\" I took my wife's hand, and we started to walk towards the police office. Once we came to the entrance, my wife went inside with the phone just as I started to hear it ring. \n\nAnd then, I saw fire. It was at that moment I realized that she had picked up the phone. And that wasn't all. As I wept on concrete and ambulances whizzed by... I opened my fist and saw the flip phone once more.\n\nThe phone began to ring. We had no kids... no siblings... no parents... we only had each other. I began to think, \"She can't blame me for doing this, can she?\" I slowly walked towards a dark alleyway, somewhere no one else would get hurt. I mentally prepared myself for death. As I was doing so, the noise of police cars and the ambulance seemed to fade into silence. I picked up the phone.\n\n\"Owner identified: Middle aged man- widower. 13 lives taken, 87 more sacrifices required for release.\"", "\"Uh...what's this then?\" Jaime held the old Motorola out away from his body. The man flinched.\n\n\"I'm so sorry,\" he whispered as he backed away.\n\n\"That's not an answer actually,\" said Jaime, stepping forward after the man. \"Why'd you give me this janky old phone? Don't need it, don't want it. Phone's are filthy, you know that? Germiest thing you prob'ly own.\"\n\n\"I can't,\" said the man, turning to flee. \"I'm sorry!\" And then he was running. Jaime took two steps in chase, then remembered the last time he'd run was probably in middle school gym class and gave it up.\n\n\"Well, that's a....thing.\" He looked the phone over. Looked like a Razr, maybe. At least ten years past it's prime. Jaime hauled back his arm with every intention of tossing the phone down the nearest alley, when it rang.\n\nHe glanced down at the front of the phone. The caller ID said MOM. Jaime decided he'd go ahead and try to extract a little insight into recent events.\n\n\"Hallo,\" he said. \"Jaime Guerrein. And who might this be?\"\n\n\"Who?\" croaked an ancient-sounding woman at the other end of the ether. \"Where's Barney? Where's my Barney?\"\n\n\"Barney, eh?\" said Jaime. \"Is that your son or something? Bit bald? Wiry glasses? Mole on the chin?\"\n\n\"Barney? Where's Barney?\" cried the woman. Her voice was surprisingly powerful. Jaime couldn't quite figure the volume, so he was forced to hold the phone well away from his head when she spoke.\n\n\"Listen,\" said Jaime. \"Some fellow just gave me this phone, alright? I'm guessing maybe that's your Barney. I think something might be a little askew with old Barnard, ma'am. You have any other kids you can send after him?\"\n\n\"Barney, did you get the chocolates I sent you for Christmas? The Christmas chocolates, you know?\"\n\nJaime instinctive shook out the phone. \"Ma'am, d'you have any one else there I might be able to talk to? I'm trying to tell you I'm not Barney.\"\n\n\"How many were nougat?\" asked the old woman. \"Because the box said half, but I heard from Fernice she got hardly two in her box. I'd like to send them back if there weren't enough nougat.\"\n\n\"I haven't really got any insight into the chocolate box situation, ma'am, as I'm still not Barney.\" Jaime took a deep breath. \"Anyway, I thought maybe I'd try to help, but I don't think there's much I...\"\n\n\"Doesn't matter if the box is empty. Just send me the wrappings. I've still got the receipt. I'll get you a new box once the refund comes in.\"\n\n\"You know it's bloody August, don't you woman? What sort of lunatic hoarder would still have their chocolate wrappings from Christmas?\"\n\nThe old woman cleared her throat. \"You know your cousin Edwin's queer now, right?\"\n\n\"Grand for Edwin,\" sighed Jaime. \n\n\"I always suspected,\" said the old woman. \"Wore those felt pants when he was a kid. Obvious, I guess.\"\n\n\"Dreadfully so. I'm sorry, but I really need to be...\"\n\n\"New postman's a raghead, by the way, so don't send me any money through the post, alright?\"\n\n\"Are you a real human being?\" asked Jaime wonderingly. \n\n\"Fernice has a nephew in the armed forces. I don't know which branch.\"\n\n\"What does that have to do with anything else you've said?\"\n\n\"You notice how much apples cost these days? It's outrageous. Did the Jews take over the apple industry, too?\" She coughed a dry, rattling cough, interwoven with tittering laughter.\n\n\"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say to any of this,\" said Jaime. \"You're clearly an awful woman and why am I still talking to you?\"\n\n\"Oh Barney,\" she sighed. \"Sometimes I think I'm just about at the end.\"\n\nJaime nodded. \"That seems like a good place for you.\"\n\n\"Earnest died. Maggie died. Willa died. And what've I got? Nothing. Not much. No how. Just you and this phone. And that's it. Sometimes I think...I think you'd prefer it if I died.\"\n\nJaime opened his mouth, intending to support the standing thesis, but some strange, little empathetic defect in his heart wouldn't let him. \"No. No. You're....you're fine. You're just fine.\"\n\n\"Really?\" The woman's voice brightened. \"Because...well, sometimes it just feels like no one wants me around anymore.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jaime. \"They...we...you're fine. You're alright. Keep on...being alive.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Barney. Thank you. That means a lot to an old woman. Now hold tight for a minute. I found an old article in this National Geographic all about these African ladies with crazy giraffe necks. It's the funniest thing. Let me find that magazine and I'll call you right back.\"\n\nThe phone clicked dead. And just like that the spell was broken. Jaime blinked. A young woman in a pink windbreaker was jogging past just then. Jaime half tackled her as he jammed the phone into her hands.\n\n\"I'm so sorry!\" he shouted as he ran away down the street like a middle schooler with nothing left to lose. " ]	9
	[WP] Alcohol gives you super strength. Leading you to try and fight crime extremely drunk.	[ "\"Hey, bad...fucker! You! Yeah....you.\" \n He lifts his night vision goggles to snap back to reality, because surely this ain't it. The drunk scrawny man yelling at him is wearing a trench coat that's some kind of online knockoff from one of The Matrix movies. No time for this; he has a 6 man team to finish directing. They'd just spent 4 hours bypassing security and drilling into safety deposit boxes after 2 solid months of planning. He'll be damned if some drunk \"rando\" fucks this all up. \n He shoots the trench-coated cosplaying bitch between the eyes with a tranquilizer meant for an orangutan. Coming prepared for a quick exit due to outside randomness was kind of his specialty. Once the witness is out and he's back to the van it was all good from there. He'll be hitting the ground in:\n \"..3..2...1...\" \".....what the fuck?\"\n This just pissed him off. A metal dart nearly the size of a #2 pencil was square in his forehead and he wasn't even blinking. A somewhat quick march later (not in a straight line) over to the robber, and he's been punched into the van he was about to escape from, turning his shoulder bones into a shattered Christmas ornament inside his body and leaving his thumb dangling only by the skin from the impact of the window shattered in its' jagged impact. The van drives off in a crumpled mess without him. \n \"You're stealing man. That... ain't cool\".\n Despite the pain he's still clinging to the hope that maybe his thumb doesn't have to come completely off. \n The thief has an idea. He's dealt with drunk before. \n \"So...how's your ex been\"?\nThe man in the coat starts weeping, the thief pick up his thumb and runs away. " ]	1
	[WP] The reason alien movies normally depict scary, invasive aliens is because humankind would wipe out any civilizations they encounter in outer space.	[ "The world known to its inhabitants as ‘Agget’ was the forth planet from the star in this system. A lush fertile world, covered in green forests, deserts, deep blue oceans and rich in rare resources. The insect like race ‘Aggetons’ were an early space fairing race and their limited fleet of a dozen ships had been brushed aside like a mild annoyance by the advancing unknown fleet that now orbited their world.\n\nThe last of the defense satellites rained through the atmosphere, leaving long trails of smoke behind them as they raced to the ground, watched by the nervous Aggeton soldiers below. Nothing more than space junk, destroyed by the yet unknown invaders. The waves of ICBMs that had been sent skyward in a vane attempt to ward off the ships had long since been burned out of the air by weapons the Aggetons could only dream of.\n\nThis particular defensive position sat on a rocky outcropping over looking an otherwise flat plain. The military complex was the most heavily defended base on the planet, fortified for an indigenous war that never happened. It was dug deep under the surface into the solid bed rock. Huge plascrete walls and bunkers dominated the outcropping and large weapon emplacements covered the area. It was the perfect strategic point to cover the industry and refining bases dotted across the plain, working the large concentration of exotic metals and nuclear fuels buried deep under ground.\n\nThe defenders had prepared as best they could given a mere days notice when the bases on their two moons had been destroyed by the aliens. Tanks had been dug in, artillery and missile systems setup and trenches filled with troops, bristling with every heavy weapon in their arsenal. They thanked the particular deity they worshiped as the dark clouds from the fearsome EM storms still hung overhead. This was probably the only reason why the invaders hadn’t blasted them with aircraft as they had most other targets on the surface.\n\nThe storms, native to this planet, filled the air with charged electrical partials that disrupted electrical systems at altitude. The invaders aircraft it seems where just as susceptible as their own aircraft. There were a few vague reports of ground forces attacking a handful of strategic locations and before main communications had been cut off and it seemed their position would suffer the same fate.\n\nIt was the dark line on the horizon that pointed to the advancing hostile force. Large armored vehicles of various types approached at frightening speed. On closer inspection they weren’t tracked liked Aggeton tanks but glided above the ground, kicking up dust as they raced toward the base.\n\nAt 20 km out the big guns of the defenders opened up first. Hundreds of large caliber artillery guns and missiles, long range mortars behind the outcropping added to the thunderous roar. Thousands of rounds arched through the air. Next the multi-launchers sent hundreds of missiles skyward leaving long streaking trails of smoke.\n\nThe multi-eyed Aggetons watched as the shells and missiles arrived on target, but most exploded midair, taken out by some unseen force. Some got through and blasted among the aliens. The rounds that did seemed to have no effect, harmless against the advanced armor.\n\nThe first invader to fall victim to the attack was a medium sized craft that took three direct missile hits. Primitive by the invaders standards the shaped armored piercing warheads of the Aggetons managed to penetrate the craft. It exploded and careered into another vehicle causing a similar fate. The troops readied themselves as the bombardment increased, now the medium guns and tanks joined the fight as did the handful of experimental lasers and rail guns as the enemy reached 10km out. Several more vehicles became fiery wrecks as rail gun rounds smashed through them. Ground troops then added to the storm by launching everything they had, rockets, auto-cannons, anti-tank weapons and mortars. The enemy not returning a single shot. The noise was immense as they gave everything they had. Several more vehicles exploded but still the force raced ever closer.\n\nThat was when the counter attack arrived. Aggeton tanks suddenly exploded, turrets blasted into the sky, flame leaping across the trenches and walls as the defenders burned. The very air buzzed like a swarm of angry insects and shimmered in the heat.\n\nAs metal and flesh vaporized the otherwise invisible beams could be seen lancing through the smoke. This was the invaders particle weapons. They cut through armor and plascrete without hesitation. Hundreds of troops and dozens of tanks and artillery pieces vanished in the opening volleys of the incoming fire. It was now the invaders who hand the upper hand. Seconds after the opening shots of return fire hyper velocity missiles smashed into bunkers. Travelling at tens of thousands of kilometers per hour the shear force of the impact, let alone the warhead blasted them and those inside to pieces.\n\nAggeton defensive fire started to waver under the onslaught. At this rate they would be wiped out in minutes but you should never underestimate you’re enemy and the invaders had done just that.\n\nThe advancing force had not swept for mines, why should they. Their vehicles hovered just above the ground and pasted harmlessly over any that had been hastily planted, but it was the nuclear ones that they would come to wish they had detected. At just over 5 km out from the base, the tactical nuclear tipped mines were remote detonated. Although small, only a few kilotons each the force was enough to rip apart any craft within 100 meters sending others into fiery heaps as the shock waves ripped through the lines. All along the advancing force the nukes erupted like miniature suns causing death and destruction as the nuclear fire took its toll. The shock waves blasted over the Aggeton trenches as the soldiers kept down, only rising once it was safe to do so.\n\nAs the dust cleared from the various small mushroom clouds now rising the Aggeton defenders celebrated as the advance seemed to have been stopped but they soon returned to continue the fierce bombardment as more shells landed among the survivors of the surprise attack.\n\nThe military leaders of the Aggetons deep under the fortress in a command bunker clicked and communicated to each other excitedly as they watched the victory unfold above them on the viewing screens. The invaders advance had been reduced to a crawl, in fact on closer inspection they seemed to have stopped, in some cases backing away, retreating. Some returned fire, but it was uncoordinated and random, but unknown to Aggeton commanders such a loss caused by ‘primitives’ like them would be avenged in the harshest manner.\n\nThe bunker complex was under a kilometer of solid rock, reinforced with plascete and the strongest metals the Aggetons could forge. It was built to survive a direct nuclear strike but no amount of rock or material would save them now.\n\nHigh above them in orbit a large ship moved into position, targeted and prepared to release their doom. The single kinetic round blasted from a cannon on the underside of the ship. It was basically the same weapon as the Aggetons experimental rail-guns but infinity more advanced and powerful.\n\nAccelerated to nearly 3% the speed of light the 2 kilogram cylindrical shaped round covered the 650 kilometers from high orbit to ground in a fraction of a thousand of a second and obliterated the rocky outcropping that had stood there for millions of years, along with the complex on it. The force of the impact as it dug into the bedrock crushed and destroyed the deep bunker before those inside could even register what had happened. The kenetic energy released excavated several cubic kilometers of rock ejecting its skywards. The valiant defenders had been mercilessly crushed.\n\nHours after the impact the dust was still think in the air, some was settling leaving the landscape covered in a grey layer. The sunlight barely getting through the dust. Any trace of the once great fortress had been completely removed leaving only a massive deep crater, glowing red hot with the heat generated from the impact. In the rubble of a perimeter bunker several kilometers from the crater a single Aggeton pushed a large piece of rubble out of the away, pinned, covered in dirt and dying it gasped for breath as it struggled to breath and see through the dust. \n\nIt did see the figure, blurred at first looming over it. As its vision cleared it saw the alien. Bipedal, tall, clad in some sort of huge armored suit and its two upper limbs carrying what looked like a weapon. The breathing sounded filtered, deep.\n\nThe invader turned and called out in an alien language. Another one appeared, the thuds of its heavy feet could be felt through the ground. It stopped and both looked down at the struggling Aggeton as they spoke. The exchange between them stopped suddenly and the other alien turned and walked away. The Aggeton watched as the other alien lifted a large armored boot, said something and then drove it down onto its head." ]	1
	[WP] You are summoned before God and the Devil. They demand you resolve their argument.	[ "They say near death experiences are a lot like having a dream. You may remember a light or complete darkness. It may also be possible to see your life pass before your eyes, but for me, I saw something completely strange. I've never been very religious and I rarely ever went to church in all of my years. It just wasn't something my family did and you could say that the world around me was far more interesting than being inside a church standing, kneeling and singing.\n\nWell, the singing was alright. I didn't know how I arrived here. Given, I could see a very bright light that didn't blind me. And a very off dark shadow that seemed to merely exist on its own accord despite the bright light all around us. Maybe I was dead.\n\nA voice shook my resolve. Such a voice might of woken me up as if my roommate insisted I had better things to do than sleep. It was the voice of the light. \"I am the the Lord, your God and I have brought you to us. We have an issue that only you can resolve.\"\n\n\"We?\" I found myself capable of responding and I glanced at thew shadow.\n\n\"Yes, this is one of my fallen angels. There are moments in time where we disagree and seek one of my wise children whom are on the verge of death to aid us in resolving our dispute.\"\n\n\"So, I'm not going to die? Oh, and my death was unrelated to your needing help?\"\n\n\"You are likely not to die. You may say that you are ion the care of your peers on Earth. We are patient and wait until a chance occurs and we have enough time to resolve this.\"\n\nI thought for a moment, \"I'm not a lawyer.\"\n\nThe shadow somehow laughed, \"A lawyer would not be appropriate this time.\" I found the voice as unsettling, but if I had heard it while walking at night, I'd of ran away.\n\n\"Your talents as an evolutionary biologist are ideal in our time of need.\"\n\nI nodded, \"Alright, so what is the issue?\"\n\n\"What is the deal with platypodes?\"" ]	1
	[WP] tell the story of a good person who is slowly becoming evil.	[ "I work at a grocery store called Lucky's, right off Oakdale Ave and 14th, across from the old Laundromat with Mr. Wu and his family. I mostly worked in the evening shift, when I got off school. When I graduated, I still worked there from 9-5 all summer long. It was right when I was about to leave for college when everything happened. It reminded me of like someone slowly dying inside but they did everything they could to stay alive. His name was Iwa Yoshinaga, I called him Ira because it sounded the closest to his name.\n\nHe was a decent looking man, he always came in at six and picked up a drink, he would come in on off days and buy his essentials, which was usually to pick up some meat, eggs, or milk. He was a loyal customer, so I got to know him a little when he was talkative. He came from Minnesota, he was trying to go to school for his Master's degree in Communication, he liked music, and was an avid Sci-Fi TV Show watcher on Netflix, once we got a schedule going to talk about a whole season of a show we mutually liked. He would binge watch the whole thing on weekends, and it would take me a little longer, but he was patient and would wait for me to talk about it sometimes. He was a nice dude, everyone from two blocks always greeted him on his way to the trains. \n\nThe first weekend, he brought her back. She was a gorgeous woman, named Remy; A redhead from San Francisco, she was in one of his classes, and she liked to party. Her name was Delilah, she would always tell people to call her Dee or Lily. He started to fall behind on our movies, then he started to buy whiskey a lot from the grocery store, until finally I would only see him on the weekends. The worst was when he came in with her one evening before closing, I think you guys got the tapes of that incident.\n\nHe walks in holding her hand, and she is falling all over and laughing. He takes her to the back freezers, were they kept the beers on ice. When they get there, she looks at the labels and laughs, she shakes her head and whispers something in his ear. He looks at her with disbelief and immediately begins to open the box in the middle of the store. He gets one free and takes a swig. As he does that, a manager comes out from the back and starts yelling at him and pointing towards the door. She gives the manager the bird and they begin to walk out. He walks up to the counter and pulls out his billfold to pay for the damaged item, while drinking the beer. The manager makes another appearance, and tell him to leave, so he puts his hands up and backs away. He walks out with her and they look to be laughing as they walk out of sight. \n\nIt was about two weeks later when I would see him again. He looked worn out, he had bags under his eyes and his hair was shorter. He smelt like old tires and something burnt.\n\n\"Hey, do you know were the gauze wrap is, Dominic?\" He walked by my register and looked around for the health care products.\n\n\"Yeah, check isle 3\", I said and stood up to see what he was doing. \"Hey, Ira. Whats going on man? You okay?!\" \n\nHe walked away, and I watched as he rummaged around a little in the health and wellness products. When he found a roll, he didn't open the box this time and just looked and held it against his palm, he did place it against his chest and tried to see how much it would cover. He grabbed some other stuff and came up to the counter.\n\n\"Hey, how you been man?\" He says, he didn't look me in the eye like he normally would, he looked everywhere else on me. \"Sorry, about... Yeah.\"\n\nI didn't know what to say to him so I really didn't continue the topic, \"So, did you finish Penny Dreadful?\" Just to keep himself preoccupied from whatever he had going on. \n\n\"Uh! Oh, wow? I didn't think you were still waiting for me, hasn't it been like three months?\" He looked kind of unconcerned but still visiting. \n\n\"Oh, yeah. It was like only five weeks ago man.\" I finished up and rang up his total, when he pulled out his money to pay, it was a whole roll of large bills. I knew that my old friend was gone. \"Hey, take care Ira.\" Was all I finished with.\n\nThe final time I would see him, he would be getting arrested for prostitution. He was running a ring of women with Remy, and some other stuff. I didn't believe it until I seen him on my way to work, he was sitting in a police car with blood on his face and the police were hauling out weapons, drugs, and two women I didn't recognize. The part that still bothers me, is that he was laughing at the body they were bagging up. \n\nWhen I first seen him, he seemed like a guy who had it all together because he would give me advice about the portions of my life. The quote from him I remember was, \"Everyone has their own lives to experience and choices to make and see through, you can't do it for them. No matter who it is.\" It's been two years since I seen him last, but I know his parents came by looking for him from Japan. I don't think he kept in touch with them." ]	1
	[WP] I made a deal with Death. An exchange of another's soul for 50 more years. It's been Ten Thousand Years...	[ "\"Alright, but only 50 years,\" Death leaned back in his chair and puffed on his cigar.\n\nI had died, but due to a contractual agreement made by one of my ancestors, my family has the right to negotiate the terms of their afterlife. I've just convinced death to extend my lifespan.\n\n\"So, you'll just take someone else's soul? What happens to it?\" I leaned forward onto the table. We were sitting in a cafe in limbo. It's a weird place. Picture the movie Beetlejuice but more Tim Burton. That's the only way I can explain it.\n\n\"It goes to heaven or hell I suppose. I just reap the souls, I don't manage them afterwards,\" He was bored. He has had these conversations with my ancestors going back two thousand years.\n\n\"And I can pick anyone?\"\n\nHe nodded, \"Anyone.\"\n\n\"Absolutely anyone? No restrictions?\" I sat a little straighter in my chair.\n\n\"No restrictions. Hell, you could even pick m...\" his eyes got wide and I interrupted him.\n\n\"Okay. You.\"\n\nAnd that's how I've managed to live ten thousand years. Of course, so has everyone else what with Death being gone, but that's beside the point." ]	1
	[WP] Everyone is born with the name of their soulmate around their wrist. You shake hands with someone and notice the name on her wrist is that of your recently departed best friend.	[ "The world was but a distant whisper as I sat there, staring at his grave. I'd known him since we were just wee lads. I'd never even considered what life would be like without him and now I've got to live without him for the rest of my life. He was always there for me but I wasn't for him when he needed me most and that will always haunt me. My fear of hospitals kept me away, I wish more than anything that I could go back in time and be there for him, but I can't. All I can do is push forwards. Every day since he died I've visited his grave and I still find it hard to believe he's gone.\n\nHer voice started as white noise, then upgraded to whisper until eventually, it snapped me back to reality. \"Did you know him?\" I turned my head to look at who had interrupted my self-loathing. She stood there, rugged up in a blood red woollen coat. Her piercing grey eyes staring into me. \n\n\"Only since we were lads.\" She smiled at this, but I couldn't find the desire to smile back, not with him in the ground at my feet rather than by my side. He was always better with people than I was.\n\nA brisk wind made its way through the cemetery, nearly toppling me over. My mind began to drift back to when he was there to laugh at me. \"What kind of man was he?\" Her voice grounded me once again. \n\nMy laugh was surprisingly bitter even to my own ears. \"He was a cunt. But he was a good bloke, far better than I could ever be. He brought people together.\" I placed my hand on the ground. \"He was always smiling, always joking around. He used to tease me constantly about my height because he knew it'd annoy me. I was always so stoic, he used to remind me to smile because he knew I forgot to.\" I ran a hand through my hair. \"I'll never hear him call me by one of his stupid nicknames again. I think that'll hurt the most. I've gotten so used to hearing \"Gigen\" yelled across the factory that I don't know how I'll react when I go back and I never hear it again.\" I sat down as tears began to roll down my face.\n\nShe looked down at me and smiled. \"You sounded like you were good friends. I'm glad he'll have someone to remember him.\"\n\n\"There's no need to worry about people remembering him. He'll be remembered by more people than I even know. He was that kind of guy.\" I was surprised at how scratchy my voice was. It's been a long time since I'd last cried.\n\nI stood up slowly and looked at her, the sound of sirens howling in the background was the only noise breaking the absolute quiet of the cemetery. She was tall, taller than me by a couple of centimetres. Her brunette hair being thrown about by the wind. \"How did you know him?\" My voice seemed to echo in the silence that followed. After a couple of seconds, she slowly raised her arm, drew back her sleeve and showed me her wrist, upon it was his name. Slightly faded but still distinguishable as his. \n\nTears began to roll down her face. \"I never got to meet him. I only found out he died yesterday.\"\n\nI did something I'd never really done before. I reached out and hugged her. We stood there, both of us crying over the grave of my best friend for what felt like hours. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I broke away from the hug to check it. It was my friends checking on me, to see if I was okay. \"I'm sorry, that's my friends. We're going to send him off tonight. Our way.\"\n\nShe smiled, tears still rolling down her face. \"It's good he had friends like you.\" She took a step backwards. \"I'll let you go. Have a good night.\"\n\nI smiled back and went to leave before I remembered I didn't even know her name. \"I'm sorry, I don't even know your name.\" She gave me a self-conscious smile \"Ashley. My name is Ashley.\" I smiled back \"My name's John. It's nice to meet you, Ashley. If you ever want to know anything about him, give me a call.\" I wrote my number on her hand and turned to leave. As I reached the gate, I looked back over my shoulder. She still stood there, staring down at the dirt. As if the very sky could feel her pain it began to rain. \n\nI stood there, watching her for a couple of seconds, she showed no signs of moving. I smiled to myself, if it wasn't for him, I'd never have had the courage to do this. \"ASHLEY!\" My shout broke the silence of the cemetery, startling the nearby birds. She whipped around to look at me, her face showing surprise. I reached her, panting from the exertion of running halfway across the cemetery. \"Come\" I gasped for breath. \"Come with me. To send him off. I'll tell you all about him while we drink the night away.\"\n\nShe stared at me, dazed. \"Won't I be intruding? I don't know any of you. I didn't even know him.\"\n\nI laughed my first jovial laugh since he died. \"No, no you won't be. Come, we've got somewhere to be.\" I grabbed her by the hand and dragged her away to send him off.", "Her voice jarred me awake. It was little more than a whisper, but it was enough to bring me crashing down to earth. I turned to her more than a little drunk, having had a drink to his memory, a drink to our friendship, and a couple more for the hell of it. \"Pardon?\" I asked.\n\n\"Did you know him?\" she asked, nodding towards the freshly packed earth. She didn't look at me, focusing instead on where Jim had been resting for the past couple days. Involuntarily I giggled - he always liked to sleep in.\n\n\"Yeah,\" I replied, clearing my throat. \"I knew him.\"\n\nWe stood there in silence, the autumn wind whipping the loose denim of my pants back and forth. She folded her arms over her chest, unconcerned as her rusted hair rustled across her face. I couldn't remember if she had been at the funeral or not, but that wasn't much of a surprise. Jim knew a lot of people, his funeral was more of a memorial circus than a service. \"Hard to believe huh?\"\n\nShe snapped her head towards me, startled. Looks like she's been rolling down memory lane too, I thought, noting the freckles perched on her nose. \"Yeah.\" \n\nI smiled and shook my head. Jim and his redheads, I mused. Probably an ex. I scratched at my wrist. People said it got itchy when you've been apart for a while, and the 'couple days' Monica said she needed had turned into a couple weeks. Twice I called Jim looking for advice, comfort, something - before I remembered. One of those times I even started leaving a voicemail. \"I didn't expect there to be such a hole,\" I murmured, surprised at how raspy my voice sounded. \n\nI stared at the dirt for a second, a minute - I didn't need a response but if she was working on one I could be patient. \"It's like there's a gap in things,\" she finally replied. With delicate fingers she pulled her sleeves over her hands, the slightest defense against the cold. \"You can't tell what, but it's there.\"\n\n\"We got really high once,\" I began, \"and Jim went on this rant - must've been an hour at least - about memories. Said memories are living things, they change, adapt, grow. When someone dies those memories stop growing.\"\n\n\"That's a dark way to look at things.\"\n\nI laughed, she smiled - surprising but welcome reactions to us both. We settled into our stances and the weight on my shoulder felt a little lighter. \"That wasn't his whole thought,\" I continued. \"Said it's beautiful. Said when a memory stops growing it's preserved, it - becomes protected, you know?\"\n\nShe looked at her feet and nodded. \"So if you have good memories they stay that way.\"\n\n\"That was his thought,\" I muttered, popping a cigarette into my mouth and lighting it. \"Then he pulled out his guitar and banged out some Shakey Graves.\"\n\n\"I love Shakey Graves.\" Smoke drifted off into the fading light of day and the thousand memories surged through my mind. While they were still warm they had grown stiff, and I felt them cut into me like a thousand paper cuts. When my mom died and he got two speeding tickets driving cross three states to get to me, when he found that cat and refused to leave it out in the cold, when I lost my job and he held me like a brother, refusing to let me believe that things would get anything but better. I held my breath, struggling to hold in my tears. She cleared her throat. \"He was a good guy?\" \n\n\"The best,\" I choked out. I checked my watch and turned to go before the dam broke. My departure startled her and I stopped myself - turning on my heel and extending my hand. \"Sorry,\" I whispered. \"I'm Will.\"\n\n\"Julia,\" she replied, extending hers. As our hands met, her sleeve pulled away from her wrist. I read the name that had sat there for a quarter of a century, and looked into her eyes to see them filled with tears.\n\nSilence engulfed us then and the wind did little more than brush its walls. The thousand memories cut sharper and I gasped, suddenly wobbling on unstable feet. A thousand memories, flitting about in my head, and she had nothing - not one cut for her to feel. \n\nAs I sobbed she pulled me into an embrace. As my body heaved, the weight on my shoulders heavier than it had ever been before, she rubbed my back and whispered \"It's okay. It's all okay.\"\n\nJust like Jim used to." ]	2
	[WP] Every time you touch someone, you get access to all of their memories, it's nice, and it allows you to understand people, but some aren't so pleasant.	[ " I look up pleadingly, one arm raised in defense as the man above me whipped my face with a belt, the searing pain as the leather snaps across my skin brings tears to my eyes but I will not make a sound, and give him the pleasure. He tears my hand away and kicks my face, blood erupting from my nose and a small gasp escapes through my clenched teeth. He laughs, a horrible grating sound that, BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.\n I sit bolt upright, my left hand slamming down on the cheap plastic alarm clock, and cracking it. My right hand flies to my chest, clawing at my heart, trying to keep it from erupting out of it.\n \"God damnit,\" I mutter to the darkness around me, \"Can't I get a single night without this shit...\"\n Standing, I stretch and head to the shower, even without the sweat, the dream had left me feeling disgusted, and water always seemed cleansing. The pre dawn quiet was piercing, reaching deep into my brain for thoughts to occupy it. \nShaking my head I turn the shower on, cold not hot, it shocks the system and distracts the mind. The pounding drops of water on the tile floor echoed with someones past and I found myself remembering the first time my cousin Catie had her period... not the best thoughts for the morning.\n I shove my head into the fridgid water, pushing away the thoughts, and the awful embarrassment and confusion. The cold water flows through my hair, causing it to fall in front of me, obscuring the swirling water I was focusing on. \n The morning is the hardest time to be myself, too many memories and personalities floating around from other people. As I step into the cascading drops, and arctic chill runs up my spine, an electric current shocking my body into life.\nI shiver and wash quickly, no one elses memories overwhelming mine, then as I prepare to step out of the shower I slip, and drag the curtain, covered in yellow and pink ducks, down with me. I shove the curtain away from my face, and theres the man from my dream, but now his pants are down, his long leather belt held menacingly in one hand, as the other reaches and grabs my hair. My heart is pounding, and my muscles hurt, I want to run, I'm so scared.\n\"HAKUNA MATATA WHAT A WONDERFUL PHRASE!\" I shout at the man, and my bathroom is empty once more, \"What a wonderful phrase...\" I mutter, giving in to tears....\n \n My closet could belong to a spy, or a murderer, it's filled with long gloves, turtlenecks and other sweaters and trenchcoats. I really wish I was like my friend Nat, always bundled up and complaining about the cold, but instead I'm the kind of person that runs hot and still wears clothes like this.\n Fortunately it's winter now, so my defenses don't kill me, but preventing skin contact during the summer can be dangerous... Other peoples memories are more dangerous though.\nI dress quickly and step out of my apartment, locking the door and heading to the elevator. As I listen to the Muzak, my thoughts wander to my most recent patient, the young girl whose memories are frequenting my dreams. She's fourteen, and hasn't spoken to anyone in almost a year, since her father died. I used my curse, my power to see peoples memories to try to help her... but I think I might need to check into therapy myself after this morning.\n \"Good morning Doctor,\" my secretary Joshua calls, as I walk into my office, \"The Patrisi girl will be here at 8:00.\"\n\"Good morning Joshua, Thank you,\" I respond distractedly, \"Let me know as soon as she arrives.\"\nI slump into my chair and sigh, \"I can't run away from this girl... I may be the only one who can help her...\"\n\n", "She was afraid of being touched.\n\nShe flinched away from the slightest bump, the slightest nudge, even a sympathetic hug. She was broken with glass shards sticking out of her - but I wanted to understand so badly. I wanted to know why.\n\nBut I wasn't ready.\n\nI used to think it was a blessing - being able to tap into people's memories. I would brush against crushes and understand who they truly were, find out who my real friends were, and play some hilarious jokes - but when I met her, I realized just how overwhelming the power could be...how much evil was in the world and just down the street too. I was the step-son of a cop - I should have been aware, but he only seemed to tell me about drugs and silly gang fights.\n\nWe started off as enemies. How dare I pay her any mind in a crowded, high school hallway. How dare I notice her and try to help. How dare I be kind, but when it poured down rain and I offered her a ride in my car when hers bailed, she decided she would accept me into her life. \n\nI always knew there was something off about her. She always seemed to spend so much time at my house, bathing in the politeness of my parents, and as soon as she was outside her door - she would halt, stand up straight, and nervously sneak inside - but how could I have known what was going on behind closed doors?\n\nSometimes I saw bruises, sometimes I saw cuts...but she was an athlete, how could I have guessed?\n\nI was stupid, stupid, stupid.\n\nIt wasn't until it was late at night and she knocked on my door - her face covered in blood and tears and snot as she just fell into my arms without a moment's hesitation that I saw every detail of her father's rough hands and vile, disgusting words that were embedded in her brain. I saw her brother cowering in the corner and her mother driving away, seemingly without a care in the world. \n\nI could never feel what she felt, I think - I had excellent parents who loved me to death, but I fell to the ground with her and just held her, rubbing her back and kissing her head, because I doubted anyone ever had." ]	2
	[WP] You see the job offer "Superhero search motivated sidekick". You get an interview...	[ "\"Hey, Regan, right? I figured you wanted this job since you're the only one that took it seriously. You sounded competent enough to handle yourself on the phone, at least. Look, if you want it still, come to Fairway Lanes and knock on the back door around 11:30 tonight?\" I pulled the receiver away from my ear and stared at the number on the screen. In narrow Arial font, the name 'Unknown' moved across my screen. I placed it back to my ear. \"Anyway, I'm not a serial killer or anything. If you're interested in making some great side money or you're feeling adventurous you know where to find me.\" \n\nI chewed my lip trying to remember if I called the number or not. I know Truitt and I had joked about it, but we...didn't...I didn't. \"Fucking dick.\" The harsh words were louder than intended and it caught the attention of the elderly couple seated a few tables down from me. Dodging their frowns, I grabbed my coffee from the table and slid my phone back into my jacket pocket. \n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThe ominous flicker of neon lights should have been my warning. Truitt and I had driven past this dilapidated building since we were kids; yet it never occurred to us that behind the door with the half-assed blinking \"Open\" sign was a super secret Superhero lair. I let out a long breath, not knowing whether to laugh or shake my head. Maybe it was the chilly winter cold, but some how, some way, my feet kept pushing me toward the iced over entrance. \n\nI barely had a chance to knock on the rusted steel door before it flung open. The man was close to my age with messy dark brown hair sticking up like he had just woken up. His lose t-shirt and lounge pants caught me off guard, as well. The heady scent of weed drafted out of the door way. His brow furrowed as his dark brown eyes scanned me. I was still trying to get over the initial shock when he broke the silence.\"Can I help you?\" \n\nFinally, I nodded and let out an amused chuckle. You have to be kidding me. The friendly neighborhood Spiderman is actually just a college drop out stoner chilling in the back of a grimy bowling alley on a Friday night. \"Yeah. Regan. I'm here for the-\" \n\n\"No.\" He held up a hand. \"Nope. You're not here for the job interview because you're not the voice I heard on the phone. Unless you had a very, very convincing sex change over the last four days.\" \n\nIt was my turn to show my displeasure. \"Actually, I wasn't interested in the job. My friend Truitt called you.\" I puffed my chest out in a failed attempt to seem like less of a push-over. \"Also, yeah. Tits, girl confirmed.\"\n\nThe guy rolled his eyes. \"See, this sensitive shit is why I don't usually work with women.\" \n\n\"Are you sure it isn't the other way around,\" I quipped, annoyed. \"You seem like quite the charmer...whatnot with the extreme superhero fetish and your huge support of feminism.\" \n\nIn the brief moment of silence that followed, I could see the gears in his head turning. A loud buzz from behind him divided the awkward stare down. Finally, he swung the door open with a painful cry of metal grinding against metal as he walked away. \"Well, get in here. You can't do your interview outside.\" \n\nI stepped over the crumbling stone sidewalk and entered the smoke filled man cave. Empty soda cups and fast food bags over flowed from the small trashcan standing beside the door. The overwhelming scent of chili cheese fries hit me like a brick wall. Car fresheners hung from the wonky ceiling fan in the middle of the room. Other than that, the back room seemed pretty normal. \n\n\"I'm Owen by the way. There are two main questions to this interview, so I'm not going to even bother with the mundane questions.\" His voice traveled over the clatter of bowling pins. I searched the small area for his whereabouts. \" Question one, what makes you think you're a good fit for this job?\" \n\n\"Excuse me? I didn't realize we were actually being serious here.\"\n\n\"Well, you still showed up. I assume you need a job. Now, defining qualities... Can you jump buildings in a single bound, shoot laser beams from your eyes? Cook, maybe?\" He lifted his head from behind the couch to gauge my reaction. \n\nI didn't satisfy him with one. My response was flat. \"I can deal well with very stressful situations and ignorant people.\" \n\nOwen sat up and opened his mouth again, searching for something to say. He took his time pressing a reset button beside the ball return. \"We'll just agree you have the uncanny ability to nag people. Question two.\" \n\nBefore I could register what was about to happen, he had picked up a tennis ball and chucked it at me. My arms shot out, batting it away just in time. \"What the fuck kind of question was that?\" I screamed as the ball rolled to a stop at my feet. I wrapped my hand around the balding lime green ball and hurled it back at him. \n\nOwen laughed as the ball bounced off of the wall beside him. \"Jesus we have a lot to train you on. $75 an hour starting off. After your 90 days, you'll make commission. I only pay in cash, under the table. Meet me here Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Twelve in the afternoon to let's say about 9 pm? Sick and vacation days are to be discussed later. Same with benefits. I need to uh... 'consult' HR.\" \n\nThe overload of information left me confused. \"Wait, so is this serious?\" \n\nHe picked up a bong off the table beside the tattered couch. The water bubbled inside as he held the flame close to the bowl. When he lifted his head, he exhaled a stream of earthy smoke and stuck it out to me. \"I dunno. I guess we'll see.\" \n\n\n\n\n\nSorry it's so long. I got bored. haha" ]	1
	[WP] Your kid is going through a dinosaur phase. You're letting them dig around in the yard when you notice they've actually found something, and it's not a dinosaur bone.	[ "Simon had been playing for about an hour in the front yard, digging small holes, crowing about worms he found. \"look daddy, a wormosaurus\". Typical kid stuff.\n\nI'd only stepped into the kitchen to make some coffee, and didn't notice he'd moved to the front yard.\n\n\"Daddy, Daddy, look what I found....I think it's a T-Rex leg\".\n\nI turned around, and sweat beaded my brow.\n\n\"Thats, thats.. nothing son...... just put it back and cover it over and we'll go out for some food\"\n\n\"Yay!\" he replied and dashed back to the yard.\n\n\"Christ\" I thought to myself, \"that was a close one, I'll have to bury my wife deeper when he's at kindergarten.\"\n", "\"Thomas, come inside I say. Right now. It's dinner time.\" I shouted from the living room. \n\n\"Daddy, it is a rabbit I found\" shouted little fella.\n\n\"Very good, put that in your DinoBox, and come inside buddy\"\n\n\"It is so big Daddy, come help me please\"\n\nReluctantly I went outside. It was indeed like a rabbit skeleton but much bigger. \nI helped Thomas dig it out after taking some pictures. He had light dinner and slept with his dino box by his side. \n\nNext day while going to office, I took his that Dinobox to my lab. It wasn't only Thomas who was curious about that peculiar rabbit skeleton. \nAfter all I am a paleontologist myself.\n\nResults came out from carbon dating it baffled me so I went to my Nobel Laureate boss with the results. \nHe didn't believe it either. That sample was indeed 630-680 million years old. The skeleton was from before the Cambrian era. There were no vertebrates evolved by then. How could they? Unless evolution itself didn't happen. \n\nMy son had found the Pre-Cambrian Rabbit. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Precambrian_rabbit\n\nNext two years, we spent digging more samples for my backyard and the entire neighborhood. Labs all over the world ran the tests. One thing kept getting clearer and clearer. The existence of rabbits in that era proved beyond doubt that Evolution as we know it didn't happen at all. \n\nMy two year old son had disproved my entire life's work and anyone in my field since Darwin made that voyage to Galapagos." ]	2
	[WP] Your best friend is a demon. Great guy, really cool and everything, just kinda pushy about the whole sacrificing the innocent thing and such.	[ "I met Carter all the way back in high school, back in 10th grade to be precise. He'd just moved over from Ireland. \n\nHis first day of school was something else. It began with him arriving at school late, his introduction was a disaster. The Irish bastard could barely be understood with how hard he was breathing from running all the from home and his accent, god his accent was thick. Mix the two together and all we got from him was Irish gibberish. The only reason we even knew his name was because the teacher wrote it on the board. Carter Murphy. \n\nIt only got worse from there. Carter, he wasn't a big bloke but he was a strong one. At lunch, we were playing British Bulldogs and in true Carter fashion (although at the time we didn't know what he was like) he took to the game like a fly to honey. I don't know for sure if he'd played it before back in Ireland, but he quickly became the person to beat. He used to shout a war cry before every play, just as everyone was ready to go he'd shout \"FUCK THE BRITISH!\" and charge straight for the bulldogs. The guy was legitimately crazy at times. But by god he was a fun guy to hang with.\n\nThroughout the entirety of school he was the same, always getting into trouble and always dragging anyone near him into it (usually, it was just me, but occasionally others got involved). After school finished we remained friends and even got accepted into the same college. It was here that things became a tad strange. He was ordinary Carter for the first, I dunno, 2 months. After that, though he started to get a bit strange. At first, it was just an innocent joke here and there about sacrificing, he'd make a joke saying we should sacrifice someone so we could pass our exams. We all laughed it off like it was nothing. Then it escalated. Our microwave broke, sacrifice was the solution. The car broke down, you guessed it, sacrifice. Every solution to any problem became a sacrifice.\n\nI'm starting to believe he's a Demon or something along those lines. I'm not entirely sure. Don't get me wrong, Carter's still a riot to hang with, but this is worrying. He won't go near churches. He won't even go near a cross. This isn't a problem for the most part, as I'm not religious or anything. But I'm afraid that his insistence on sacrificing the innocent may drive him to eventually, well, do it. I guess time will tell." ]	1
	[WP] A post millenial super heroine who gets superhuman strength by channelling her crippling anxiety and drinking massive amounts of coffee	[ "The cops found themselves staring at three bank robbers, who had all been tied up to a lamp post. There was note pinned to one of their shirts, but the writing was illegible. The masked hero wrote too fast to make her words out clearly. Ten blocks down the road, our heroine was in pursuit of the two remaining from the bank heist crew. It was late at night and though the roads were clear, the driver could not shake the pursuing vigilante. The driver was watching the woman in his rear view mirror, how this woman could keep up with them?\n\n“Watch out!” His copilot yelled, but it was too late. The van missed the turn and slammed right through the window of the Coffee Corner Café. Our heroine stopped for a moment, as if in respect for the fallen coffee shop. “Oh Triple C, I hope your insurance is good, because I couldn’t live it wasn’t for your Carmel Light Cappuccino.” She approached slowly as the two fugitives clambered out of their respective doors. Her first focus was on the driver. As she walked through the glass façade, she picked up one of the stools that adorned the front of the cozy coffee shop. \n\nThe driver looked up, but did not have enough time to react. The stool hit him in the face with all the force of the many memories a masked vigilante had, sitting at the front and watching the world go by. The heroine looked at the broken stool and her hands and dropped them on the floor. She moved quickly across the front of the van, and found the other man standing up with his gun drawn at her. \n\nBefore he could say his demands, our heroine leapt into action and moved quickly towards the man. She grabbed his gun and a shot went off. Ricocheting off the van’s door and right into the shooter’s leg. As he fell to the ground he let go of the gun. Not wanting anyone to get hurt, she quickly dissembled the gun and scattered its pieces on the floor. The robber tries to back up, but the pain of leg hurts too much. He decides to give up and apply pressure. The car accident wasn’t that kind to him either. Now the adrenaline was wearing off he could feel that his ribs were cracked. \n\n“So what do they call you?” Seeing that the fugitive had given up, our heroine began to tie the cloth napkins together. Not hearing a response he made one up for her “The Barista?” He began laughing to himself, but stopped once she moved his hands away and tied the napkin chain around his leg. She gave it an extra tight pull. “I have many names, but my favorite is the Crazy Caffeine Chick.” With that she gave him a smile. Then she made her eyes bulge and she began to turn her head slowly. “Crazy?” she whispered close to his face. She could begin to see the sweat on his forehead. Before he could muster a response, she suckered punch him in the face. Leaving him unconscious in the rubble of her seventh favorite coffee place in the city. \n\nShe opened the refrigerator behind the bar and grabbed a can of some organic cold brew and drank it while she watched if her bandage had held up. When the sirens got closer and seeing her bandage was working, she quietly took her drink and snuck out the back door. She was always a fan of Batman, though Crazy Caffeine Chick didn’t sound ominous, she liked the idea of having the criminal underworld scared of her. \n" ]	1
	[WP] Her mother is still grieving. You volunteer to empty her room.	[ "We never worked out. We should have. The proof was in the hours of discussion on top five movies of all time, often broken in genre or director. It was in our love of small fluffy animals and our disdain of tiny loud humans. Our first date was five hours long, only ending when the wait staff kicked us out. \n\nHer mother hated me. Maybe not in the beginning but certainly by the end. She saw our inventible self-destruction as my fault. Her daughter, a saint, blameless.\n\nThat did not help my guilt when I had to finally walk away. \n\nMy mornings of waking up to the smell of pancakes were becoming memories in the final years, coaxing her out of bed to visit the isolated park near our apartment became more the routine.\n\n“You won’t see anyone.”\n\n“You do not even have to get dressed up if you do not want to.”\n\n“We can just go for a ride instead, just to get out, it’s lovely out there today.”\n\nPictures of our cats were placed in the box gently. Her mother said I could keep whatever I liked, she did not want any of it. She couldn’t stand to look at it. Her father had quietly taken me aside and asked to make a box for them, to hide it in a closet for him to pick up later. He knew her grief would pass and the tokens of her daughter’s life would be precious.\n\nHer clothes were the easiest to go through, nothing new had been bought in the years we had separated. I even offered to take her shopping, we were still friends after all, it seemed like a normal activity that we could still do together. But she claimed poverty and would then rant about her appearance. It was much easier to pretend her clothes were not falling apart then get dragged into the hole of how fat she was and “who would want me anyway” guilt trips. The clothes went into garbage bags.\n\nI found some art work in one drawer, stuff done when she was still in college that I thought was brilliant. I took couple of my favorite pieces; I decided the rest should be with her parents.\n\nHer computer and TVs were of some value. I placed them all by the door to the garage, I figured our friends would be able to find use for them. \n\nHer cookbooks, so many cookbooks. She rarely used them as she became superior to most of the cooks she studied. It was my biased opinion, but she had a talent.\n\n“I didn’t have half the ingredients for this, so I had to improvise a bit, let me know if it’s okay?” she would say with trepidation.\n\nI would take a bite from the dish and immediately be blown away that I had my own restaurant below my bedroom. A chef willing to prepare amazing meals to suit my pickiness.\n\nShe would claim it was easy to do. Anyone could cook. I could not have disagreed more. Anyone could attempt to cook, what she did was almost an art. She seemed to almost smile when she would make a new dish for me or for our friends to try. \n\nI enjoyed those moments.\n\nMy cheeks were wet as I placed each piece of her kitchen into a box. I wasn’t sure who to give these to. I would probably take some and attempt to make use out of them. \n\nWhat I didn’t expect was a drawer filled with print outs of my favorite meals. Ones that she had found online and then put her own notes on. Cross outs on whole onions, something I despised. Extra garlic put in recipes that probably already included too much to begin with, because I felt a meal could never have enough garlic.\n\nI placed all these papers in my box.\n\nI sealed everything up and finished packing the car with as much as I could fit. I closed the door behind me, leaving the electronics that I had decided if anyone wanted they could come pick up themselves. I had a feeling no one would take me up on the offer.\n\nShe never could climb out of her hole. Her dark clouds pushed people away until finally she was as lonely as she believed she was destined to be. I knew in my mind I had saved myself when I filed the papers. Yet, my heart whispered, “…but you killed her that day as well.”\n" ]	1
	[WP] Moral Kombat.	[ "“Augh! Can't you at least get the hair right?! This vest does NOT work with these pants! I've been sitting here for over an hour and I'm still not ready. Kintaro was out and ready to go in 20 minutes! And he's on after me! I've got less than 10 minutes before I need to be in front of the Portal. The last thing I want is those damn monks snickering behind my back. Here, just give me the comb!”\n\nShang Tsung was known for these types of outbursts. Most of Earth Realm and Outworld knew him as the evil, shape-shifting right-hand man of Shao Kahn. But to the stylists, makeup artists, caterers, and costume designers who had to deal with him; he was just a brat.\n\nMark, who had been brought in from the Wasteland School of Hair Design, sighed inwardly and handed Tsung the brush.\n\n“Impossible! How is this going to look to Kang? His hair is always fantastic. Who does it? Who is his stylist? Those Earth Realm stylists are masters!” whined Tsung as he impatiently ran the comb through his hair, completely destroying the work that Mark had nearly finished.\n\nMark knew if Tsung had just sat still and hadn't fought over every little decision he would have been on his way in half the time. But Tsung was a big wheel in the palace of Shao Kahn. So Mark held his tongue. If he said what was on his mind he'd be out on his ass in a minute flat. And where did a disgraced stylist go after this? Probably giving perms to Sindel and Mileena.\n\n“Sir, it looks fantastic. If I could take the comb back for just a moment I'll put the finishing touches on it and you'll be ready!”\n\n“Hmmph! Fine! I'm not even sure why we have these internships, no one ever gives me what I want. How hard is it? Kahn, Kintaro, everyone else seems to get along fine. But me! Me! Never!”\n\nMark couldn't help but roll his eyes. Tsung was impossible to please and threw a fit whenever the mood struck. “Okay sir, looks like we're all done here.”\n\nTsung stared fixedly at his face in the mirror and was opening his mouth to complain once again, but luckily Mark was saved by a producer walking into the green room.\n\n“Mr. Tsung! Scorpion and Kang are all wrapped up. You're on in 5.”\n\n“Finally,” Tsung glanced once more in the mirror, “Well, this will have to do. What difficulty am I?” he asked as he walked towards the door.\n\n“Looks like you're..” the producer began, but by this point, Mark had tuned them both out. “I wonder if Earth Realm is hiring?” he muttered under his breath as he began to clean up the mess Tsung had left.", "\"Finish him,\" the voice of chaos said.\n\nBut I stood my ground. \"He is defeated, and I am no murderer.\"\n\nA bolt of lightning struck my foe, and his ashes scattered in the wind that followed. \"Fool!\"\n\n\"It wasn't on my hands, that doesn't count!\"\n\n\"And yet he is dead!\" The voice laughed.\n\n\"Yeah, 'cause you're an ass.\"", "I grew up my whole life knowing I was different. I had the offers to fit in - friends, hobbies, love, but I knew they weren't for me. Society never see me for what I am. I've been adding ink over the last four years to tell everyone I was different, even if they didn't see it. Now I'm on an island watching a ninja fight a Minotaur and for the first time, I feel at home with my kind.\n\nMy match comes up and I'm staring across a sand pit at a man in an iron mask and combat pants. I can tell by the way he moves he's studied Kung Fu. Everyone I've seen so far has a background in one martial arts discipline or another. Again, I'm no different. I know next to nothing about offense though, and my opponent finds that out quick as he tries unsuccessfully to bait me in.\n\nEveryone I've seen so far looks like they've trained for years on mastering 101 ways to kill a man. I only studied for the discipline. I defend myself as best I can, blocking a barrage of high kicks until my arm goes numb but when he misses a haymaker I can't even get a hold of him before he throws me away. I get lucky and catch a flying kick, dropping him right on his head. I frantically seize the opportunity to ground-and-pound. He comes across my face with a chain wrapped around his fist. \n\nThe judge says nothing. There's no rules here. Only one of us is walking out alive. This is him or me and we both know it. I cling to his arm as he throws that chained fist at me again, but he cleans my clock with his other hand. While I try to clear the cobwebs from all fours, I fend him off with a swift kick to the ribs as he moves in to strike. He lunges at me again as I rise and I flip him onto his back, then feel his orbital bone crack underneath my foot.\n\n\"FINISH HIM,\" booms the judge. It was always him or me. This is what I trained for.\n\nHe's out on his feet, trying to get up just on autopilot. I creep up to him and cautiously rest a hand on his exposed neck. I enter his mind and put him at ease. He's being told by his loved ones how proud they are of him. He's presented with a feast in his honor. He never feels me snap his neck. He collapses in a heap into my arms as the judge makes his call.\n\n\"Fatality.\"" ]	3
	[WP] A world-renowned hitman gets his latest assignment: himself.	[ "At two in the morning William built himself up to finally do it. His nightmares had been getting worse, alongside his depression. It's stress induced, he swore. It's all the messages. It's all his fault. Tonight was going to be the night he solved all his problems. The man who made his life misery was going to suffer. After many weeks researching and debating, William made his decision.\n\nHe pulled his laptop up from the ground and closed the porn. He was still uncertain what to think of the Dark Web, but he'd found a site that had what he wanted. The site promised a low-profile kill that would look like an accident. It simply provided a number, next to the phrase \"give us a name and an offer\" .....\n\nA blonde man with strong, angular features and short military-style hair woke up with a sharp gasp on a clear Sunday morning. Just nightmares again. At 6 o'clock Jason quickly got up, drank a glass of water and began his morning stretches. He looked around the bedroom in disgust. It was just a safehouse and therefore not well kept. Clothes and a few bottles were strewn around the floor. Jason had spent a long night working last night and when he got home promised himself he'd clean the place up tomorrow. He'd been making the same promise for a while. For all his motivation and work ethic, he was still a teenage slob at heart.\n\nJason reluctantly checked his work phone. 1 new message. A name, an address, a number. This was an ordinary sort of message to receive in Jason's line of work. But this was no ordinary message. The pit of Jason's stomach sank almost as fast as his mind was racing.\n\n\"Jason Reimer. 8 Oxford Road. £1,000,000.\"\n\nHeart thumping, Jason called his associate. He'd never met this man or even learned his name. All Jason knew was that his colleague redirected jobs to his phone, after which Jason dealt with it, and his bank account grew by the morning.\n\n\"For your loyalty to this operation and your efficiency in the field, I'll take the hit off the system. I didn't realise it was you, Jason, the system is automated. But you'd better deal with this fast, when you don't turn up dead whoever put out the hit is just going to use a different agency\".\n\nAfter the prompt click of the phone hanging up, Jason sat with his head in his hands.\n\nWaking up with a slur, William wondered if he'd done the right thing. He felt bad for ordering the death of another man, but ultimately he remembered what Jason has put him through and he became determined once again that he was in the right. Jason's presence alone caused so much pain for William over the years. Jason was obnoxious, constantly criticising William for his lack of drive and accomplishment. He was disgusted in William for the way he lived: stealing government benefits and scamming gullible idiots for all they're worth on the internet. Jason was right after all, but to William that didn't justify the constant onslaught of abusive texts, letters and hate messages. But Jason's arrogance was what William would exploit to get back at him. All his letters had a return address. Will had just assumed that it was a taunt. As if to say, 'I'm here. Come get me'. Well, he wondered in a sinister tone, SOMEONE will be coming to get you.\n\nJason grabbed his gun from the bedside table and stuffed it into the back of his jeans. Still damp from his shower, he decided it was time to take action. He redialled the number he'd received the text from. Nothing. It went to voicemail. He tried two more times, pacing around the room. On the next try, he noticed something. A small light under the floorboard. It disappeared as suddenly as it caught his eye, while the phone once again went to voicemail. Jason called again, hoping to God that this was some crazy coincidence and that wasn't the phone the hit was sent from. To Jason's panic, he once again saw a dim blue light through the cracks in the floorboard.\n\nThe board came up with little resistance. The nails were just lightly screwed in. Using his work phone as a torch Jason took a second to register what he saw before him. A phone, a bottle of vodka, a wallet and a picture of a family.\n\nJason's brain became a firework show as the dots connected and he began to remember. He stared through the picture in his hand with a distant gaze as what he had been doing came back to him. He set the hit on himself last night. He remembered how last night he spent the night drinking himself into a state, watching some foreign porn and sobbing himself to sleep. He also remembered travelling to a suburb and slitting a sobbing woman's wrists as she sat naked in a cold bathtub, that very same night. Was it the same night? No, today was sunday. That was friday's job. How did he forget a whole day? Thinking back, Jason realised he couldn't remember thursday or tuesday either. Reality settled in.\n\nJason Reimer was not real. Was there even an organisation? Did he have an associate? Jason realised that he himself was just a mask donned by the twin who lived in his own head. He remembered the doctor telling him he had invented a new personality as a way of coping for the tragic loss of his family. He remembered going to sleep as William and waking up as Jason. Then going to sleep as Jason and waking up as William. In his days as Jason he would torment himself, sending himself letters and text messages. William thought he still lived at home. With his family. Jason knew he wouldn't recognise the address in his insanity. There was no purpose to these hateful messages other than self-loathing.\n\nHe realised he had been doing the same ever since he watched his children bleed out in the back of the jeep, his wife's body next to him. Jason looked at himself in the mirror. Where a handsome, chiselled man previously stood there was an out of shape wreck, with a beer gut and bloodshot eyes. It dawned on him that everything that tied William to reality was under this floorboard.\n\nNow understanding, he reached for the gun in his waistband. At least that was real. And if the gun was real, the agency was real. And if the agency was real, William realised that meant he was responsible for the deaths of dozens of people. Brutally, he'd killed every one and framed them as accidents or suicide. He never questioned if they'd even deserved it. He realised he couldn't allow this to continue.\n\nRaising the cold, vile weapon, William raised the gun to his head and completed his contract." ]	1
	[WP] Scientists invent a device that measures people's hope in life and their will to live from a scale of 1 to 100. Your number is 0.	[ "“Two weeks is a long time.”\n\nThat was always her catch phrase. What she had always said to him. Even now, two weeks later, he could still hear her voice saying it to him. She’d say it for any number of reasons. The times he would lament about the last two weeks of summer vacation before classes started. The times they held each other’s hands and cried that there were only two weeks before he left for deployment and wouldn’t see her again for a whole year. Even the times before their wedding, how was there was still so much planning two weeks before we would say our vows.\n\nAnd now?\n\nWell now, two weeks was just too long.\n\nHe spent his days in bed for what seemed forever. The phone ringing for the tenth time before noon wasn’t enough to get him out of bed. Even his stomach rumbling for food wasn’t enough. He finally lumbered into the bathroom. After flushing the toilet, he looked down at the scale. \n\nWhat’s the point? he asked himself. He already knew what it was going to read. \n\nHow much hope can a man really have after everything that has happened? he again asked himself. Probably the low 20s or maybe even in the teens.\n\nIt had been his daily ritual now over the last week or so. His brother got it for him a few days after she had died. It was this new scale that was sort of like a weight scale you keep in your bathroom. But instead of telling you how much you weigh, it told you how much hope you had. The box had said it ranges from 0-100. Anything above 75 and you were considered extremely hopeful. Anything below 50, you were considered depressed. The box didn’t even say what you were considered if the scale read below 25. It seemed more like a gag device more than anything. \n\nBut, being a number’s kind of guy and seeing numerical progress in things always gave him an inner motivation to keep pushing himself. Weights at the gym to see how much he could lift. Seeing how fast he could run a mile. Or even beating his previous month’s sales figures. His brother thought that this new scale that showed how much hope a person had would be the perfect thing to get him out of this slump. A way for him to do something to beat the previous day’s number.\n\nInstead, it had the opposite effect.\n\n“Zero,” he read aloud. \n\nEven he was surprised. He didn’t think he could get it that low. A slight smile formed across his face, and then the scale flickered up between four and five. He thought about the car crash again, how it was his fault, how he wasn’t paying attention. Then about the out bursts at the office that caused him to lose his job. \n\nThe scale flickered back down to zero again. He had decided he would end it all once he got it down to zero.\n\nHe sighed. \n\nWell now seemed like a good of a day as any, he thought to himself.\n\nHe put on the dirty bathrobe around his dirty shirt that he had been wearing for the last week straight. It had stains on it. Sweat stains, food stains, and even vomit stains. He hadn’t bothered changing any of his clothing. What was the point really?\n\nHe walked past the counter and collected his keys and wallet. He couldn’t even see the two fish in the mini aquarium. Just a small murky tank filled with dirty water now. They had probably long since died. Again, what was the point of feeding them?\n\nHe left his apartment and stepped out in the busy street. He hadn’t really given much thought to as how he would do it. \n\nA gun? No, it would take too long to register for one and all the background checks and what not.\n\nA rope? No, there wasn’t really anywhere to do it in his apartment. Surely the ceiling fan couldn’t support his weight.\n\nHe had decided he’d walk to the CVS and pick up some sleeping pills and down them all at once. He figured that was probably the easiest. At least he wouldn’t even have to be awake for it.\n\n“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry!”\n\nNot even two steps later someone bumped into him spilling coffee all down his clothes. Not that you could even really tell considering the filth he was covered in. If anything, the smell of coffee masked the smell of beer and puke that was probably embedded into the fabric.\n\n“Oh my gosh, I did not even see you there. I am so sorry, I was not even paying attention. You know how sometimes people get on their walks, they just get so into things, and they think about something, and you start thinking of all the different ways, and then that though turns into something else, and then that one thought leads to another thought, and before you know it you are just thinking about la-la land and not even paying attention to where you are walking and suddenly someone appears out of nowhere and you are just like bam!”\n\nThe lady who had crashed into him was unleashing a stream of conscious onto him while wiping him down with a few napkins while he just stood there. \n\nPerfect, he thought. I wonder if the scale does negative numbers. Not like things can get worse at this point.\n\nShe was still talking but it was just background noise at this point. He wasn’t even paying attention. Just standing there with coffee dripping down his clothes and thinking how he can’t wait to end everything.\n\n“Here, let me see if I can get you cleaned up. I just feel terrible about this! I am such a clumsy person.” \n\nShe was still babbling on and he was starting to get annoyed with her. Yet the only thing he was really focused on was keeping the scale as low as possible. \n\n“Oh gosh…” she finally trailed off. “Are you ok? You are just kind of…um…I don’t want to offend you…but it looks like spilled coffee isn’t the worst problem with your clothes right now.” \n\nShe had finally taken a step back to see who she had bumped into and noticed the disheveled character standing in front of her.\n\n“Does your mother know you are dressed in public like this?” \n\nHe looked blankly back at her. \n\n“Umm, I don’t know what to say here, but I feel really bad about this…”\n\n There was something familiar about her.\n\n“I mean, are you ok?”\n\nJust go away, lady, he kept thinking to himself.\n\n“Are you going to say something? I don’t mean to be rude, but you’ve been silent this entire time.”\n\nWhat do you want me to say, you just spilled coffee on me as I decided I am going to go kill myself, he thought to himself silently. Is that what you want to hear?\n\nBut there was something familiar about her. He couldn’t deny it.\n\n“Here, take these.” \n\nShe set down her backpack and pulled out a set of scrubs.\n\n“I always have an extra set in my backpack just in case I spill something on myself, but I feel like you could use these more than I could. I just feel really bad and I don’t know what else to do.”\n\nShe was standing there with one arm holding a set of light blue scrubs and motioned for him to take them. After not moving for a few seconds, she smiled and again motioned for him to take them. It was like trying to convince a scared animal to take food from your hands at the zoo. But he continued looking blankly back at her.\n \n“I’ll need them back though. So you can’t have them forever,” she said.\n\n“Look, as fun as this is, I gotta get going. It seems like you’re having a rough time though. I don’t know what it is, maybe the nurse in me, but I’d like to help you out with whatever it is you’re going through…”\n\nYou can’t help me cause I won’t be here anymore, he thought\n\n“Here, let’s meet here again the day after tomorrow,” she said as she draped the clothes over his shoulder.\n\n“Two days is enough time to get them all washed up and clean right?” she asked.\n\n“Two…” He cleared his throat. He could barely speak. He hadn’t realized that those were the first words he had said in over a week.\n\n“What? What did you say?” she asked him.\n\n“Two weeks.”\n\n“Two weeks?! Two weeks is a long time!” she exclaimed! \n\nSuddenly he looked up. There was something familiar about her. \n\n“No way! Look, I feel bad about spilling my coffee on you, so you can use these scrubs, but I need these back!” she said playfully. \n\n“We’ll meet here in two days and then you can tell me what’s got you all roughed up, ok?”\n\nHe nodded his head as she went on her way. He decided to go upstairs and change so her kindness wouldn’t go to waste. He wasn’t quite sure, but there was something familiar about her.\n\nHe stepped into the bathroom and changed into the scrubs. And just to be sure, he stepped on the scale to see if he should really go through with this. \n\n“Fifty one,” he read aloud. \n\n\n", "Kristy nearly tipped the wheelchair in her rush to get me loaded into the van.\n\n\"Why are you so worked up?\" I asked as she centered me on the loading platform.\n\n\"Reg? C'mon, seriously? Do you not think this is serious? They could have you committed.\" Kristy's eyes shone, wet and dark in the shade of the open door. If I could have reached out and wiped those tears away, I would have.\n\n\"Because of the number?\"\n\n\"Yes, Reg, because of the damn number.\" She buckled me in the place and raced around to the driver's seat.\n\n\"They can't put me in a hospital because of the number,\" I said. \"Besides, it's not like I'm a danger to myself.\"\n\n\"It's not that,\" said Kristy, throwing the van into reverse. \"Your levels...you know why they re-tested you six times?\"\n\n\"I'm a hard man to read,\" I said, smiling. Kristy ignored the joke.\n\n\"They thought it was broken. The floor is one, Reg. That's the absolute floor. And they've never registered someone below a 15 before. So you...\"\n\n\"Am I gonna be in the Guinness Book of Records?\" I asked. \n\n\"It's not a joke. These tests are serious. People aren't allowed to be that kind of unhappy.\"\n\n\"But I'm not unhappy,\" I said. \"I think I'm doing pretty well for myself.\"\n\n\"Well...\" Kristy trailed off as she pulled onto the highway. \"Really, Reg...\" I could tell she was crying, harder than before. \"Why? If you were so sad, why didn't you ever say anything?\"\n\n\"Babe, I'm not sad,\" I said, again, wishing against all the other wishes in the world that I could just put my damn hand on her shoulder. \"I'm not. I don't know how that test works. How do you measure someone's will to live? What's the science?\"\n\n\"You know I have no idea.\"\n\n\"Well.\" I thought fast. Because really, why? Why would I score so low? Was I wrong about how I felt? Could anyone be so out of touch with themselves they didn't even know they were the most miserable person the world's ever seen? \n\n\"You know, though, maybe it is right,\" I said. \"I don't have any will to live.\"\n\nKristy sobbed, though she did her best to hide it.\n\n\"No, hear me out. A will to live - that's effort. That's a struggle and a willingness to struggle. It's a fight. The highest numbers, those are the people that are fighting for their lives all the time. But I'm not gonna fight for it, babe. And maybe that's it.\"\n\n\"So you don't want to be alive?\"\n\n\"I don't want anything,\" I said, realizing that I meant it. \"I died in that accident, Kris. I was gone and it was over and that meant I wasn't ever gonna see you again in this world. But I came back. And here I am. And...I don't know how to say this so it makes sense. But this is so good. Every day I wake up and I see your face and I feel like no one's ever been so lucky. If it ends now, I'm still the luckiest. I'll always be the luckiest. There's nothing to fight for. I'm already at the mountaintop. Wanting more...fighting for another scrap of life...that's silly. That's selfish. I got to see you one more time. And every day since I've been drowning in good fortune.\"\n\nThe car pulled over. The door wrenched open and Kristy threw herself around me. She buried her face in my neck and I felt her tears and her heat and her heart.\n\n\"You know,\" I said, \"if they made a device that measured how much I love you, it'd show zero, too.\" She pulled away to look into my eyes. \"Because it'd break the very minute they strapped me in and turned it on.\"\n\nShe laughed. \"You're an idiot.\"\n\n\"I'm a world record holder,\" I said. And she laughed even more. " ]	2
	[WP] You've just received this: "No time to explain. This is you from the future. Will lead you to safety. RUN RIGHT NOW! More texts will come. RUN RUN RUN!!!"	[ "I wake up at my desk, my phone vibrating next to me. I must have dozed off. I check my message, and it says:\n\nRun! NOW!\n\nWell, it's either a prank, or a wrong number. I text back: \n\nWrong number, bud. \n\nIt takes only a moment for my phone to vibrate again. \n\nIts not a wrong number. It's you. From the future. There's no time to explain. YOU HAVE TO RUN.\n\nSo, it must be a prank. \n\nIs this Jerry? I don't have time for your jokes today, bud.\n\nHe must have gotten a new phone. That's why the number isn't saved in my phone any more. This time, another message arrives before I even turn off the screen. \n\nYou MORON! Your life is in danger, you have to run NOW! \n\nJust then, Jerry walks by my cubicle. He leans in, and asks me about some documents I was supposed to leave for him to sign off on. \n\n\"Are you texting me?\" I ask. \n\n\"No, I don't even have my phone on me right now.\" \n\nMy phone vibrates again. \n\nRun. RUN. YOU ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.\n\nI guess it's not Jerry. Can't hurt to ask, I suppose. \n\nWho is this?\n\nIts you, from the future, you idiot! Now run!!\n\nLook, this is definitely a wrong number. Bye. I set my phone down. \n\nIt vibrates a few more times, and I try to ignore it. This guy really is persistent. Finally, I can't take the curiosity, and I look at the most recent message. \n\nThere will be a man in a blue suit entering the room soon. I look toward the elevator, and see a man in a blue suit exiting. Strange. \n\nHe's coming for you. The man starts walking towards my cubicle. \n\nYou have to run! \n\nI'm still not convinced this isn't a joke, but I decide leaving the area couldn't hurt. I leave my cubicle and walk the opposite direction. \n\nDont walk. Run. \n\nWho the hell is after me? I walk at a faster pace, approaching the staircase. \n\nIts too late. I'm sorry.\n\nToo late for what? I don't understand what's happening. I get to the stairwell, but when I open the door... There's a man, I a dark blue suit and sunglasses, pointing a gun at my face. \n\n\"You failed, again.\" He said, as he started to squeeze the trigger. \n\n---\n\nI wake up at my desk, my phone vibrating next to me. \n\nI must have dozed off. " ]	1
As opposed to the oh-so-infamous "It's not just a phase, mom!"	[WP] "It's only a phase, mom!"	[ "I paused, standing in the doorway and looking at my mother's paling face at the sight of me. \"What?\"\n\n\"What in the name of all things holy are you wearing?\" My mother hissed out between clenched teeth.\n\nI looked down at myself, though fully aware of what I had just put on for my attire to school that day. I wore a spiked leather jacket that was hardly fit for the nearly ninety degree weather outside, a faded shirt with a metal band's logo splashed on the front, camouflage shorts, and my father's work boots that I had decided last minute would work better than mom's silver high heels. To top the whole thing off? I'd fancied a hat, so I had grabbed the only one that I had. It so happened to be a black felt cowboy hat.\n\n\"Nothin',\" I declared after my examination. I headed over to the cabinet to grab some cereal for breakfast before I biked to school.\n\n\"That is hardly nothing!\" My mother crossed her arms.\n\nI rolled my eyes at her, grabbing a bowl and the half gallon of milk from the fridge. \"It's just a phase, Mom.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You do indeed have the power of time travel, but you are forced to see past events as a bystander unable to intervene.	[ "Countless times, I've heard people wax poetically about fate. The strings that tie us together. The will of the universe. God's plan. \n\nI used to think it was all nonsense, especially the whole bit about God. I mean, if there was an almighty power out there running the show behind the curtain, you'd think he'd write better performances than the tragedies that keep shaking the world. Poverty across the globe. Constant war over trivialities and resources. Domestic terrorism, Islamic terrorism. If all the pain and hardship was God's plan, than you can find me making friends with the Devil, because he seems to be the lesser of two evils there.\n\nSo when they finally invented time travel, I just had to go back. Had to show everyone that I could fix things. I couldn't end world hunger, but if I could be in the right place, at the right time, I could steer events to a more peaceful resolution-or at least a less bloody one.\n\nI picked an easy one first. Traveling back to 1914, a sunny day in June, I staked out the spot where the Archduke would be assassinated. I had memorized Princip's face, his position when he fired. When I saw him appear in the crowd, I was ready to step forward, to grapple the gun away. Instead, I watched helplessly as the motorcade was assaulted, pinned to ground under a large, heavyset Austrian, who was knocked over when the crowd surged forward.\n\nI had wasted my shot; I couldn't appear there again, or I'd risk seeing myself, creating some temporal paradox of some sort. So I switched gears, moving to stop a separate calamity.\n\nOn December 6th, 1941, I traveled to Hawaii, to warn the men stationed there of the impending attack. Upon my arrival, I was detained as a German spy, attempting to incite fear among the Allies. A ridiculous notion, as I was proven correct only hours later, which opened up an entirely separate investigation into how I had prior knowledge. \n\nPerhaps these events were too large, to monumental to change. Perhaps there was a limit to what one man could do. I couldn't give up my mission, not yet. I would prove that the past was not so rigid and inflexible, that nothing was set in stone.\n\nIn 1986, I successfully managed to warn Chernobyl that it's equipment was faulty, resulting in a planned overhaul of all the power fail safe systems in the facility. I returned to the present to find that bureaucracy had ground that overhaul to a stand still, adding only a single month of time to the plants operation.\n\nIn 1999, I stepped forward to end the Columbine massacre before it began. I listened helplessly in the back of a police cruiser as gunshots rang out, the radio buzzing with frantic calls.\n\nAnd now, in 2012, I lie bleeding on the floor in some stranger's house, a woman lying dead next to me, her son leaving to carry out an even greater tragedy than matricide. No matter how strong I was, how quick I was, I couldn't overpower him; it was as if luck was on his side, to be able to knock me off balance from such an awkward position.\n\nMy phone battery is dead; the landline in this house too far for me to crawl to, with all the blood I've lost. I can't help but think that fate really does exist. Every effort was thwarted, so perfectly, so neatly. And as if to make sure I don't meddle again, I go now to join God...\n\nTo Hell with that. I'll take the lesser of two evils." ]	1
	[WP] Everyone in the world is actually D&D characters rolled by god-like entities playing a campaign.	[ "Gregory stood at the lectern, sweat beading on his forehead. Well, he shouldn't think of himself as just Gregory now; He was Professor Niles now, but he just couldn't find the confidence inside of himself to stand tall.\n\n\nThe classroom bustled with energy, although none of it was directed at the professor. Gregory cleared his throat, and was met with nothing. Once again, and still nothing. His brow furrowed. He raised his hand to the heavens, and channeled a fireball through his fingers towards--\n\n-----\n\n\"No! Come on K'Thaurl, that is not on your character sheet!\" K'Thaurl shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This game was far below him, and he didn't know why he had opted to spend eons upon eons investing his time into it. Loquime was a ridiculous dungeon master, and frankly the setting was absolutely stupid. A scowl crossed K'Thaurl's face as the rest of the table braced for the same argument that happened very game night. K'Thaurl slammed his fist onto the table.\n\n\n\"Loquime, why are we even playing in this setting? What do you even expect our characters to be able to do?! No magic, no miracles--\" Loquime raised her finger to silence him, and spoke, authoritatively, \"Listen you do not have any access to fireballs. I told you at the start that even if you poured all of your talent points into 'Occult Interest' it wasn't going to do anything.\" K'Thaurl rubbed a hand against his temple. Cho'thee-kal just chuckled and scooped nectar into his vast maw.\n\n\n\"Come on, can't we at least, fudge things a little bit?\"\n\"No can do. Greg needs to make a stress check.\"\n\"Ugh, whatever what's the DC?\"\n\"18.\"\n\"Damn, okay, okay alright.\"\n\nThe die was cast against the table. It bounced softly before landing. K'Thaurl howled out in frustration.\n\n-----\n\nGregory's heart palpitated wildly. No one was listening to him, but there was something more pressing than that. It felt like a dagger, slowly sinking into his side. His breath grew shallow. He screamed for help, but there was nothing in his lungs.\n\n-----\n\n\"Oh come on, am I going to die of a heart attack?\"\n\"It was a critical fumble, and you took 'weak heart' as your major physical flaw.\"\n\"I've still got a saving throw right? And doesn't the class see me on the floor?\"\n\"No, they failed their sense danger throws, you're on your own.\"\n\"Oh, come on, I've been playing this character for forty-five years!\"\n\"Come on, the saving throw is pretty low, you've got this, and besides, you have those modifiers from your equipped heart monitor.\"\n\nThe dice were cast once again. A groan of fury, and K'Thaurl flipped the table.\n\n-----\n\n\nGregory collapsed for the last time, his skin cold and clammy. It would be several minutes before the students even noticed, and by then, it was already far too late. So ends the life of Gregory Niles.\n\n-----\n\nK'Thaurl glowered across the table. Loquime chuckled to herself, \"Oh come on, maybe you'll have better luck with the next character.\" K'Thaurl growled, \"I'm not coming next week, I've had it with this stupid game!\" And with that outburst, he scooped up his dice bag, and marched right out.\n\nLoquime sighed, and packed up her game master screen. Cho'thee-kal shoved some more food down his throat, speaking in between mouthfuls.\n\n\"So, uh, we still meeting next week then?\"\n\"Yeah, we'll get by. I'm just a little upset that everyone keeps leaving after character deaths.\"\n\"Well, they should be mad, I mean that's the end of their story.\"\n\nLoquime raised an eyebrow, and pulled a pristine book from her bag, waving it in front of Cho'thee-kal's face.\n\n\"Nope. One of these days, I'm going to get to run this cool afterlife module.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You are a child's teddy bear. Every night the child takes you to bed to protect it from monsters. What the child doesn't know is that you actually fight monsters every night to keep the child safe. Write about one of your fights.	[ "It's a good thing I don't feel pain. Otherwise, the huge rip in my arm would be a drag. Donny's mom considered hiring psychiatrist because she suspects her son is a psychopath-in-the-making who tortures his teddy bear, but patches me up all the same. Donny's dad thinks Donny is covering for the dog, and that was good enough for her. I never did get a name until the fourth time she fixed me. Donny couldn't think of one, saying that he didn't want me to be stuck with a name I didn't like. She suggested \"Theseus,\" because I'm hardly made of any of my original material. That sounded cool to Donny. \n\nThe fight got messy, spilling out to the stairs. Once down the landing, it was on me. Its knife dug itself into my arm, running it across a good inch before I rolled it off me. That was the chance I needed. While it was still down, I gave its torso a good kick which sent it down the rest of the stairs. It came apart in three pieces: head, torso, and legs. Before they could put themselves together, I separated them and scattered the pieces around the living room. \n\nThe next day, Donny's mom found me lying on the landing with a fistful of a stuffing. Donny's dad was ready to take Donny's Lt. Jack Hammer Action Figure^with Kung-fu Grip and Tactical Knife Action back to the store after he heard of the recall on the news. They were simply deemed \"too dangerous for children to play with,\" as the company was offering products from their Energy Scouts line in exchange.", "This job isn't what it used to be. \n\"Tommy\", one of dad's old hand-me-down plushs, tells the story of how children were still raised on horrifying fairy tales. A whole other set of monsters, but also a whole other set of tools. They actually used to tell kids about Hensel and Gretel, who, at age 8 and 10, shoved a witch into the oven. \nTommy once kept the sister's play stove going all night, disposing of Bad Wolves and Unfriendly Giants. He led an army of Barby dolls and they slaughtered their enemy. Nothing got past their first line of defense. \nMe? I'm just a panda. What the hell do kids know about pandas, except that they're cuddely and cute? \nMine was the generation of kids raised on the harmless, watered-down fables. \"The power of love\", the power of freaking love was my only weapon for years and goddamn years! \nDid the monsters care? Hell no. \nA child's deep mind, the ID, will still dredge up horrible things from the subconscious. I had to hug those fuckers to death. Defeat pure evil with the golden light of joy radiating from my belly button. A flickering torch against the same wall of darkness. It took many close calls for me to figure out that the closer they got to my charge, little Angelika up in the bed, the fiercer my love burned. And the brighter my light shone. \nStill, for an eldrich horror to go \"lights out\" I had to emotionally push myself to the limit every night. It is draining, to say the least. \nDo you have any idea what it does to my job when your parents give you the LEGO Cannibal island for Christmas, Angelika? I think not. The enemy was in the room now, and me with only plush arms to \"hug\" them away. \nIt's like parents don't know a thing about child psychology. \nThings only improved when Angelika reached that venerable age of 6! Oh, how I battled in the days before. But see, things turned around for me at age 6. Every guardian bear, be it panda, kodiac, or grizzly, vaunts for that age. \nNew, \"age appropriate\" input. The DVDs and films feed into the child's mind, and into our abilities. \nAll of a sudden, I was Fu-Panda, Master of the Kung! My awesomeness increased the more movies DreamWorks put out. What an apptly named company. How their dreams enhanced hers, enhanced me. And made me work better. I thank the Fluffy Ones Above for that entire franchise! \nMy first line of defense has not been breached in 1 entire year. Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of \"Give Me The Bottle\" baby, a doll that can drink AND pee liquid. A water thrower added to our arsenal. \nBut I fear, I fear for little Tamara in the room next door. She only has an untrained guardian, a little plush dog named \"Woofy\". And they've taken down the Crib Mobil, with all it's magic warding powers. A dangerous time to be young. And I can't leave Angelika. My duty is to her. \nEvery time I hear Tamara cry out in her sleep I imagine the worst has happened. That The Bad has gotten to her. \nBut then I hear Woofy bark and growl. He makes sounds while moving that have me thinking of something much bigger than his petite, green, washable form would indicate. \nMaybe, he doesn't have to deal with \"the power of love\". Maybe he's fueled by the rage of a toddler. Maybe ..... there's hope, yet?", "\"Mine own eye! Damn thee daemon. . . I shan't falt'r and carryeth the holy edict issu'd by the 'rd'r of Steiff!\" \n\nBobby the generations owned teddy bear proclaimed. \n\nHis eye hanged on, only just by a string, while a needle-toothed monster sets his insidious dark eyes on Marissa, the fifth generation Thadeus. \nBobby has been protecting the children of the Thadeus family for generations, passed down from mother to child, sister to brother and so on.\nTo Bobby's surprise a old wound he got from a damned monster in the closet opened up and his stuffings were pouring out. \n\n\"Hah... thee strik'd me well Bedbug, alas thee has't not strik'd me down yet!\"\n\nBobby ripped his own eye off while giving a roar of utmost rage, sprinted towards the Bedbug, ripped a tooth out of its mouth and sewed his wound up with the string of his eye in a matter of seconds.\n\nHe hurled his eye towards the Bedbug to distract it and suddenly the Bedbug's eyes met his own demise. \nAs Bobby let his guard down, a monster under the bed incapacitated him by locking his body in a hold. Its tentacles neared Marissa's face, just by mere millimeters. \nBobby wanted to get out of the lock and saw that his body had already been seperated with his head. \nHe felt a terrible pain, not from his body, but deep in his soul.\n\n\"Marissa!\" He shouted. \n\n\"There's a snake in my boot!\" \n\n\n\n", "Momma tucked us both in again. I watched as she kissed us goodnight an turned out the light before leaving the door cracked open. A golden bar of light from the hallway landed at an odd angle on the floor: it seemed to bend in the opposite direction that the door was open. The child I guarded squeezed me tightly, and with each breath I gained some freedom to move.\n\nThe cool colors of the night bathed the room in a tinted hue of blue, and the moon (that mesmerizing vixen) cast her sharp rays into the child's room. There were shadows all around, but not one was of an evil being. I was glad that the night was in my favor. It takes 28 days to have a full moon, and she was more beautiful than ever. I even felt stronger because of her noble, seductive beams.\n\nMom and Dad were going to bed now. I could hear them kissing and closing the door to the bathroom. I don't know what takes them so long, but if it were my child that took that long, they would get yelled at. I guess adults can share a bathroom for a long time and not get in trouble, but it's really not fair. \n\nIt is this time of night that I begin to hear the \"noises\". The closet might get a scratch, maybe a rustle under the bed, and on rare occasion, there is a thing outside that makes a sound. Tonight was different. A squeak happened in another room. It wasn't like a mouse or a rat, but like a moving door. The water was on in Mom and Dad's bathroom, so I knew it wasn't them. The cat was outside, and there was no wind tonight.\n\nI stood at the edge of the bed and scanned the room with my little black eyes. I could feel that I was being watched, but I didn't know from where. Something shimmered next to the dresser and I was only able to see some of it. The light of the holy moon gleamed off of its smooth round legs. \n\nThere were many of them, all were in segments like a lobster. Its armored back looked like the wall, and its eyes were like lobes of fleshy cancer. It squeaked again like a bed with loose springs. I could hear Mom laughing, which seemed really irresponsible at a time like this. The monster rustled against the wall and shook some toys and books off the shelves. I clenched my furry fists and watched it disappear into the darkness of the closet. \n\nI quickly ran and closed the door! From underneath, a talon of its leg swept in front of my feet. It shaved some of my hair off my toes and I instinctively jumped back, but kept my hands on the closet door. The creature made a strange creaking sound and ended with a sound like the snap in a wall. I hit the sweeping limb with a wooden block and it withdrew.\n\nThe bathroom door opened and I could hear Mom and Dad whispering and giggling. Their bed made that funny crunchy sound when they got in it. The closet door was silent. The monster must have known they were up. Mommy was starting to make weird noises, and this always kept the monsters away. Dad always encouraged her to do this. I think he knew it was good for keeping bad things away.\n\nI know it is not much tonight, but I was able to capture one rather quickly. The one in my charge can sleep as long as I stay near the door, and that is what I intend to do. A teddy's job is never done!", "I sigh staring down at the floor.\n\n\"One night,\" I say as I rest my fluffy head in my fluffy paws, \"... one FUCKING night I had to fight against the 14 eyed cat monster that Billy dreamed up.\" I take out a Pall Mall cigarette and light it. \"... that fucking creature was horrifying. It nearly tore me limb from limb, but I beat back that motherfucker.\" I take a drag from my cigarette and stare the interviewer in the eyes.\n\n\"What can you tell me about that encounter?\" said the interviewer. He looked back at me and into my cold plastic eyes unblinking and emotionless.\n\n\"You wanna fucking know what happened?\" I say as I point my cigarette towards him and tap the ashes off onto his carpeted floor. \"I had to fucking stab out every one of those eyeballs with Billie's FUCKING crayons. The motherfucker nearly tore my right arm off, and Billy's retarded mom can't sew for shit and now I can barely move it anymore.\" I take another drag from my cigarette and stare off behind the man interviewing me. I put my cigarette out on the arm of the chair I'm sitting in.\n\n\"Could you please refrain from damaging my furniture?\" asked the interviewer. \n\n\"I'll do whadever the fuck I want...\" I say staring into his eyes, \"The bullshit I've went through for this fucking kid... don't you think I deserve a few times to lie back?\" \n\nThe interviewer gulps and leans back in his chair and puts his clipboard and pen down, \"I think I've heard enough, thank you for your time, Mr. Snugglepants.\"\n\n\"Whatever. I better be getting my $200 for this interview. I've got a couple of sugar daddies to pay off.\" I say as I toss my cigarette butt on the floor and get up. I land with a little poof on the floor and I waddle out the door.", "Alyssa’s mother bent down to give her daughter a kiss on the forehead. \n\n“Goodnight, sweetie,” she said, before planting an abnormally loud and messy kiss on her daughter’s forehead. \n\n“Ewww! Moooommmm!” Allysa squealed. She tried hard to look disgusted, but her eyes glowed shone with laughter and her lips betrayed a smile.\n\nHer mother let out a small chuckle before fixing her attention on me. \n\n“And one for Teddy, too,” she vowed, puckering her lips to ridiculous levels. \n\nShe came within a breath’s reach from me before Allysa pulled me out of her mother’s reach. Tucked firmly in her arms, Allysa rolled over to the other side of her bed.\n\n“Teddy is shy!” she revealed, “He only lets me touch him.”\n\n“Alright, alright…” her mother relented. She walked towards the door and turned off the lights. She had just about exited the room when she looked back at her daughter, eyebrow raised.\n\n“Can why try to make it a whole week without sleeping in your Mom and Dad’s bed?” she asked the question, making it sound more like a declaration.\n\nBeing pressed against Allysa’s chest, I could feel the momentary pause in her breathing. \n\nA moment later, she eased out her apprehension with: “I’ll try.”\nHer mother let out a small sigh and closed the door behind her.\n\n“We can do it, Teddy. Nothing scares us.”\n\nIt was a child’s lie: precious and naïve. Her hope and belief that I could protect her gave me strength. As the night passed, my sweet Allysa promised me over and over that she would protect me from “Slither”, the monster that hid in her closet. I would have smiled, if I could. Eventually, her promises turned to whispers and her whispers to sleepy gibberish as she fell into slumber. \n\nI felt like tonight would be a good night. Allysa was nearing the age of maturity, when her mind sealed itself off from the Otherworld. The Otherworld was an ethereal plain, formless and obscure. Children, whose minds danced on the edge of that realm, often beckoned to us. Their subconscious desires and fears drew us into their realm, and we are more than happy to oblige. Bonds with humans give us shape and character, solidifying our existence.\n\nAnd so Allysa’s departure from childhood would be both a victory and a loss. Having the chance to bond with such a creative spark had fulfilled me, but having to leave her would be one of the hardest things I’d have to do.\n\nA movement from the corner of by vision caught my attention. \n\nI tried to move to get a better look, but her embrace held me too tightly. I focused on what little I could see of her closet. A tiny shadow slithered from the gap between the carpet and the door.\n\nA shadow cast from a branch outside? I thought. But no, its movement was far too strange to be a swaying branch. \n \nI slowly began to ease my way out of her arms. Potential waking her was a great risk. Children who witness to ethereal beings with their wakened minds often took mental damage. It took far too long to escape her grasp, but before I addressed the looming shadow, I glanced back at my charge. She was still soundly sleeping, now holding tight to her blanket.\n\nMy relief was short lived. I didn’t have to turn back around to see what my adversary had done in the time it took me to get free. “Slither” had surrounded her. Tendrils of darkness grew from her closet and writhed along the floor near her bed.\n\nI withdrew into myself. I tapped into a secret place only Allysa and I shared. Her imagination gave form to my ethereal energy. Her dreams filled my being, and I knew what I had to do. Inching forward to the foot of her bed, I gathered power to my eyes. Looking at my foe, I shot out a beam of burning light. It slammed into Slither, and he hissed in agony. I pressed forward the attack, until his oscillating arms withdrew a distance. \n\nThen, I traced an outline around the bed with my eyebeams. For a moment, the bed was encircled with a line of light. Eyes still gleaming with light, I gave a pose. In response, colors rose from the outline and solidified, forming a translucent rainbow wall around us. \n\nI took a moment to appreciate my work. Rainbows had always been a wondrous thing to Allysa, and I knew that wonder would give the walls strength. \n\nSlither’s tendrils retreated slowly back towards the closet door. Perhaps my old foe realized he’d never reach my Allysa. I couldn't have been more wrong.\n", "Little Pete was fast asleep when his bedside clock ticked towards one in the morning. I remained on high alert, though. Sleeping was for when the day was bright, not when the darkness had crept through and taken over the land.\n\nI'm Little Pete's teddy bear. I may be adorable with an eye almost falling out, but I was far from the cliche \"lover not a fighter\". I loved my little human, and that was why I stayed awake during the night.\n\nHe believed that I fought and kept the monsters away, he told his parents so. They smiled and nodded in agreement, but I knew they didn't believe any more. Perhaps when they were Pete's age they believed, but now? No. They didn't believe.\n\nI sat there, happily cuddled close to the boy as he slept.\n\nI glanced around the dark room, shadows cast creepily by the nightlight on the outlet by the door.\n\nOne particular shadow moved.\n\nI tensed up, watching the shadow that had moved. It took a moment before it did it again, creeping by the closet door. Him again! I thought I had warned him for the last time some months ago. I hadn't seen him or another monster for a while. He must have thought that I was too worn out. Ha! Little did he know, Pete's mom took good care in keeping me all stitched up.\n\nI slipped a little from Pete's grasp, watching the shadow as it attempted to come closer to the bed. I waited a moment before declaring to the creature to cease or be kicked back from whence it had come.\n\nThe shadow paused a moment before straightening up as it cackled lowly. \"You... again... I'd have thought the boy would have given you up by now. You're old.\"\n\n\"He wouldn't think of getting rid of me. We have a bond that nothing can break,\" I declared, puffing up with pride. It was true, every word of it.\n\nThe shadow shook a bit in dismay. \"You can't keep it up for long... He'll be ours, you'll see. I'll show them all how it's done. How you take down a guardian bear.\" The shadow shifted to the side.\n\nI watched with trained eyes as it tried to out move me. I smirked, he would never learn.\n\nThe shadow reached its long, inky arms towards the boy. I leaped up, throwing a hard punch into its side. The shadow hissed and recoiled back into the darker parts of the room.\n\nI had no weapon. The small sword that I had once brandished had been accidentally lost somewhere by Pete. I don't blame the boy, it only encouraged him to help me train to become a martial artist instead.\n\nA knight teddy bear that knew all forms of martial arts, that's what I was. I may not have the best armor, but it worked. My fists were my weapons now, and I was quick to use them.\n\nThe shadow lurked about somewhere. I watched, eyes finding the shadowy figure a moment later, closer to the closet.\n\n\"Oh no you don't!\" I declared boldly, dashing to the figure, but keeping a mind on what could be creeping up on the other side. It wouldn't have been the first time that they had gathered in force to take my Pete.\n\nTonight was not one of those nights. But it was a long, lengthy fight.\n\nThe shadowy figure tried to outmaneuver me. All it needed was an inky grasp on the blankets... on Pete's arm... and it would be over. I put up a fierce fight that night.\n\nWhen dawn started to frighten the darkness away, the shadow had managed to give me a fresh slice on the leg, stuffing attempting to ooze out of my body. My loose eye was now gone, lost somewhere on the floor. I'm sure Pete or his mother would find it later. The temporarily loss was a small price to keep Pete safe.\n\nThe shadowy figure curled back as it realized that night was soon to be gone. It hissed unhappily at me, \"You may have won tonight... but soon... Soon he shall be ourssss...\" The shadow slipped down onto the floor and slipped through the cracks of the floor and the bottom of the closet door.\n\nI watched, waiting for it to disappear fully before moving back to my spot beside Pete. I was exhausted and in desperate need of rest. I leaned against him, feeling an arm hug me close.", "There are many monsters that my kid has to face. \n\nEverything his mind thinks he feels in his dreams, my job is to make sure they stay there. \n\nSome days I really wish he'd stop watching horror movies, there have been countless nights where I have been tossed around like a sand bag trying to face whatever the fuck a clown is. \n\nMy old body has long been torn and sewn together from years of playful abuse, I don't mind, that ridiculous voice box that squeaked the same line has finally stopped working so I don't sound like a complete tool.\n\nBut there are some nightmares I can't protect him from. \n\nHere one comes again, a tall dark shadow, quiet, but with a soothing voice, every other night when everyone else is asleep, I hear him creeping in from outside, tiptoing, his heavy steps making a mild thud against the wooden floor. \n\nMy child whimpers, he doesn't understand, dream or not he can't make sense of reality when he is tired. \n\nThis monster I cannot fight, I cannot move to defend against, my body is still, I watching him tower over my child, his wicked glint the only thing I can see, the most I can do is calm my child, keep him as comfortable as possible, I look into is broken eyes and I see the face of a crushed soul. I feel the absolute helplessness of my paws as my child hugs me close to his tiny chest, his laboured breathing and whimpers of pain as the monster descends on him. \n\nGod give me the strength I pray in vain, I know my cushioned paws won't do a thing to help him, all I can do is hope the warmth I give is enough. Still I will my body to move, to do anything to stop the pain.\n\nSQUEEEK!\n\nSQUEEEEEEKK!\n\nI LOVE YOU!\n\nI open my eyes, whether the boy had managed to squeeze one more time that pathetic noise from my body, who knows if that came from he or him. Either way, the monster panics, he pulls up his pants and runs out of the room, as quietly as he can he shuts the door. \n\nMy child cries silently, the night hiding his tears. He presses me close once again. \n\nOne night down, 2 more weeks to go", "June has taken me to bed with her every night for almost seven years. And every night, without fail, the Raggedy Man has come.\n\nIt started before me. When she was a baby, Mr. Binky had the job. A brave, noble Blanket with the paws and head of a mighty elephant, Mr. Binky stood his post faithfully, night after night, fending off the Raggedy Man's attacks.\n\nThen, when June turned three, her parents decided she was too big for Mr. Binky anymore. Luckily, Mr. Binky knew that his time with June was growing short. He was old, tired, and stained. On the night that before our girl was moved into her big-girl bed, Mr. Binky passed on the watch to me.\n\n\"You have to protect her from him, Patches,\" he said, as her mother carried his pink, limp body out of the room for the last time.\n\nNow, as she gets ready to turn ten, her parents have started putting pressure on her to stop carrying me with her at night. She's almost too big for me, they tell her. She needs to put away childish things. I'm old and torn, my stuffing is starting to fall out. My seams don't hold as tight as they used to.\n\nBut I only need to hold on a little longer. I only need to protect her until her birthday. Because when she turns ten, he can't get to her any more. She'll be beyond his reach then.\n\nAnd so I stand my ground, knowing that my time with her is limited. That my battles draw to a close. I stand over her, growling and snapping as her closet door opens the night before she turns ten. As, like always, he comes in the night.\n\nHis jagged nails drag across the frame of her door and he slinks out into the pale light from her window. The moon frames him there, his tattered clothes flapping in the breeze from the air vent. His teeth, all shards of broken glass, flash as they catch the moon's radiance. Stringy black hair covers his too-long face as his red eyes blaze in the darkness.\n\nWe struggle through the night, our teeth and claws tearing at each other until the first rays of the sun pierce the window. The radiant light burns his pale flesh and he retreats to the darkness of her closet, snapping the door shut behind him. He's beaten. My right ear hangs limp and the button of my left eye is broken in half. Stuffing dangles from my left leg as June's mother comes to wake her up with a tray full of pancakes. Birthday pancakes.\n\nShe sets the tray down and walks over to the bed, pausing as our eyes meet. \"Job well done,\" I want her to say. \"Thanks for keeping our girl safe.\"\n\nBut no compliment is forthcoming. Instead, June's mother reaches down and picks me up, saying the words I've dreaded hearing. The same words she said to Mr. Binky.\n\n\"Ugh. You have definitely seen better days, little guy.\" She looks down at June, still sleeping as the dawn's rays brush her face. I hang there, knowing what comes next.\n\n\"Let's get you out of here before she wakes up. After all, it's her big day.\"\n\nShe walks quietly to the door and I get one last look at our girl. Goodbye, Junebug, I think to myself, as she takes me down the hall to the garage. I know what's coming as she walks towards the metal cans next to the garage door.\n\nShe lifts the top off of one of the cans and starts to lower me into it. My one good eye meets hers and she hesitates. She lifts me out again and closes the lid. She crosses the garage and pulls a cardboard box down from a shelf. She smiles and opens it.\n\nShe puts me inside, tucking me down beside a pair of photo albums. June smiles up at me from the cover of one. It's her fifth birthday. The year she started kindergarten. Her mother shuts the top of the box and sets it back on the shelf.\n\nMy paw brushes the photo of our girl and I settle in for a long sleep. From beneath the photo album, a bit of pink felt touches my leg.\n\n\"Welcome, old friend,\" comes the voice of my mentor.\n\n\"You've done well.\"\n\nIt would be almost twelve years before I saw her again.", "Karen had always been fond of me. She made me herself at Build-A-Bear. It was my sole purpose to protect her from the nightmarish evil that plagued children like her. I remember all my fights. From her zombified hamster that her mother tried to cover up with the whole \"it ran away\" story, when in actuality, it ate a Lego, to an Old One from\nanother dimension. Every fight presented unique challenges for me, but none of that could prepare me for what I would encounter next...\n\n\nIt was 10:00PM and Karen was tucked in and fast asleep. I wanted to make sure she was in her REM cycle before I started my patrol. Bad shit happens when children see their toys come alive. This \"bad shit\" is in the form of shrinks and worried parents. It's standard protocol from Build-A-Bear that we remain motionless throughout the day until the child is asleep or if we are alone. I hear the parents snoring a room over. Dad sounds like a diesal engine. I grab my combat knife and sling my pop-rifle over me shoulder. I'm looking out for any agressors in the area. \n\nIt's 12:00AM. I'm bored as hell. She has no other stuffed animals for me to talk to. I can't play her Atari either due to the screen being too bright. I guess I'll build a house of cards. \n\nIt's 2:00AM, It's two a.m.\nThe fear has gone\nI'm sitting her waitin'\nThe gun's still warm\nMay-what was that?\n\nMy humming of lyrics was cut short by a zapping noise. I see a flicker in the corner from where the sound came from. I raise my rifle and walk towards it slowly. The zap happens again but this time paired with a crackle. I peer behind her doll house. The zap happens right in front of me. The outlet behind the doll house is shooting out sparks. I raise my sword at it. A louder crackle echoes throught the room. I can hear Karen roll in her sleep. Shit. A humanoid made of pure electricity is standing in front of me. \n\n\"I know what you are and you're a danger to this family. Turn back and leave this place or face me in combat.\"\n\nThe electric being has no words. It extends an arm and sends a bolt of electricity at me. I dive out of the way. The bolt hits the curtains behind me and leaves a burn. I've had enough of this already. I charge at the guy and swing my sword right through him. He is unfazed. He raises his hand again. This time a bolt catches me square in the chest. I am\nknocked off my feet. I feel dizzy and struggle to regain my footing. I rush full-speed at him. I manage to push him straight into the wall. There are burn marks on the wall now. Shit. They are gonna notice now. There is a faint smell of burning now.\n\nThe curtains. They're on fire. \n\nThe flame keeps growing as we fight. The man is untouchable. I can't do damage to him. I look up to see a thick cloud of smoke gathering at the ceiling. I have to break my code. I have to get Karen out of here. I ran from the electric being and climb onto the bed. Karen is still fast asleep despite the warmth and sound of the growing fire. \n\n\"Wake up Karen! You need to wake up now.\" \n\nAll of the sudden she sits up, knocking me to the ground. She didn't know it was me shaking her. The smoke alarm goes off. Just as that happened, her parents barged in and pulled her out of bed. The fire was know engulfing half of the room. The electric man had now become an inferno. Karen was safe now. Someone else will now take-up my old job of protecting her. I feel my arm start to catch fire. \n\n\"It was an honor serving you, Karen.\"" ]	10
	[WP]"Oh bother" grumbled Pooh, as he loaded another cartridge into the gun.	[ "(I haven't written in a while and I've never written anything on Reddit. Please forgive my lack of expertise. I find the premise interesting and have written a terribly gorey and uncharacteristically violent, vulgar piece.)\n\n\n\n\"Oh, bother\" grumbled Pooh, as he loaded another cartridge into the gun.\n\"I hate it when I miss. I'll just have to try again.\"\nPooh flips the barell closed on the shotgun with great force. As he thrusts the business end blindly into the sky, Owl angrily dive-bombs into Pooh. Owl hits him directly in the face, knocking Pooh on to the floor.\n\"You flappy fucking cunt!\" Pooh exclaims as owl kicks the shotgun into a nearby bush.\n\"Pooh, stop. Consider the consequences! You have to end this!\" Owl lunges at Pooh and strangles him.\nPooh gasps for air, swinging violently at owl. He lands a blow squarely in Owl's left eye, knocking him into the dirt. While Owl shouts in pain Pooh walks over to Owl.\n\"I am ending this. I am ending each. And every. One of you. I'm so sick and tired of the constant condescending fucking tone you carry.\" Owl opens his eyes after a moment, looking up into Pooh's fat belly. His face just peeling over it. Suddenly pooh stomps onto Owl's face, breaking his beak. Blood curdling screams erupt from the bloodfilled beak of Owl. Pooh softly smiles.\n\"Good riddance,\" Pooh gloats, mocking Owl's accent. You feathery, egotistical, fuck.\"\n\n\nSitting alone in an empty room, piglet awakens. His eyes bloodshot, arms bound behind him to the chair. He is covered in blood but the wound on his head appears not to be bleeding anymore. Piglet shouts for help.\n\"Hello?! Is there anyo--!!\"\nBefore he could finish Pooh punches Piglet in the cheek from behind.\n\"Glad you're awake now, pinky.\" Pooh paces in front of Piglet thinking out loud.\n\"Think, think, think. What to do, what to do.\"\n\"What are you--? Why have you--? Is there a--?\" Piglet stutters.\n\"Spit it out, Piglet. No one likes a fuckin' mumbly stumbly stutterer.\"\n\"Why, Pooh?\"\n\"I'm getting fucking sick of you Mcfurry Fucks. Always so fucking giddy, bouncy, condescending, vain, annoying, paranoid, and anxious. God, you animals are painfully retarded. So I'm going to kill you. Each and every one. And so I won't have to hear you speak anymore. HERE!\" Pooh punches Piglet in the gut and as he yelps Pooh slams something into Piglet's mouth.\n\"Rabbit. He died first. He is so annoying that I had to end him. I took him by the ears and nailed them to a tree. I put four slugs right into him. One in each 'lucky' foot. Blew one of them clean off.\" Pooh points at Piglets mouth and Piglet begins to scream through the dismembered foot. Pooh continues.\n\"One directly into his chest. Then one right into his stupid fucking face. Eeyore came next. He was the easiest. I just stole his tail and strangled him with it. He actually thanked me. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! What a pathetic donkey. Or whatever the fuck he is. I tried shooting owl but he just flew off. Fucked attacked me but I stomped his beak into his brain. And now here we are. You, Piglet. My 'best friend'. I'm going to make sure you die slowly.\"\nPooh punches Piglet in the face as hard as he can. Breaks a few tree branches over Piglet's legs rendering them useless. Cuts, deep, bloody gashes directly in his stomach.\nPiglet eventually begs for mercy. Pooh just slices his throat and accepts the spray of blood that rains on his face and grotesquely large belly.\n\n\nHours pass and Pooh patiently waits in the highest branch of a tree. Fashioned himself a snipers nest. Pooh knows that tigger knows what's going on. As Tigger emerged from his home a shot rings out loud and clear. Tigger stops dead in his tracks. Blood pours out from a hole made deep by a large caliber round. Spatter is now dripping from the wall where it abruptly accumulated. He drops suddenly to the ground, blood coagulating around his crumpled body.\nPooh, satisfied with his work, inches out to the edge of the branch and watches the sun set below the horizon.\n\nHe smiles gleefully and happily as he leans back off the branch plumetting to the Forrest floor.", "As the cartridge clicks Pooh cocks his gold and platinum M1911. Blood drenched all over his body. Pooh walks over to a hot red drop top corvette with a nearly bled to death mafia member groaning for help behind the steering wheel. \"Oh shut your whiny fucking mouth.\" Pooh says annoyed and presses the pistol against the mobsters slicked back hair. BLAM! the shot ringed out splattering the mobsters brains all on the passenger seat and windshield. \"Oh bother, now i have to get a new car.\" Pooh sighs. Tossing the gun in the backseat Pooh opens the driver door and pulls the body out of the car with a grunt. While the body slumps on the floor blood pooling around him Pooh gets in and puts the keys in the ignition. Whoop Whoop! the siren of a police car causes Pooh to look in the rearview mirror, \"Fuck, 5-0's here.\" Pooh says taking a cellphone out of the glovebox and slamming on the gas pedal. Pooh dials 1 on his speed dial and his phone begins to ring. \"Pick up pick up, cmon CR pick up!\" Pooh yells. \"Uhh.. Hello? Pooh? W-what time is it?\" Christopher Robbin says being woken up by the unexpected call. \"Christopher you gotta run! go now!\" Pooh says making a hard right turn nearly hitting a mailbox on the corner. \"What's wrong? I-is that cops i hear? Fuck Pooh what have you done?!\" Christopher says freaking out. BOOM! the sound of Christopher Robbins bedroom door getting kicked open interrupts their conversation. \"You're under arrest! Freeze you piece of shit!\" Pooh hears through the phone. \"CP?! Christopher are you alright?\" Pooh frantically asks. The phone line goes dead and Pooh swears and throws the phone out the moving car. While throwing the phone Pooh did not notice the homeless man walking across the street with a grocery cart. \"Oh shit!\" Pooh screams cutting the wheel trying to swerve out of the way. The car swerves out of control and Pooh smashes into a light pole. Poohs head slams against the steering wheel and knocks him out. Slowly opening his eyes with a ringing in his ears Pooh opens the car door and falls out onto the cold dark street. Pooh can see the cop cars approaching so he limps over to the back of the car and grabs his gun. Pooh cocks the gun and fires. Over and over again shooting at the police until his gun clicks. \"Out of bullets.\" Pooh barely whispers. The police slam on the brakes directly infront of him and get out, sirens still hollering and guns raised. \"Put the gun down asshole!\" one of the officers yells. Pooh drops the gun and grins, blood dripping down his face and all over him. Pooh flicks the officers off and says, \"Do your worse you pig fuckers.\" The Chief looks at the other officers and grunts, \"Waste this asshole.\" The officers unload all their bullets into Pooh, not missing a single shot as his body slumped to the ground, still smiling.", "\"Oh bother\" grumbled Pooh, as he loaded another cartridge into the gun. He was in the middle of his house, with no honey left. He stuck the gun in his mouth, but then Christopher Robin ran in and screamed \"Stop Pooh! It's not worth it!\"\n\n\"It's for our own good!\"\n\n\"No! It's not! Think of your friends and family!\"\n\n\"I'm doing this, Pisstopher!\" Pooh stuck the gun back in his mouth, pulled the trigger, but there was no gunshot or blood. In fact, he tasted honey. \"Oh bother\" Pooh took the cartridge back out and read the writing on it,\n\n\"Honey Bullets\"\n\n\"Oh bother,\" said Pooh again. \"I got the wrong bullets. Now where's the actual bullets, Tigger?\"\n\n\"I put them in my tail to bounce higher!\"\n\n\"Tigger! I was going to save the world with those! Meh, at least I have honey.\" Pooh loaded the cartridge back in and continued shooting honey into his mouth.", "\"Oh bother\" grumbled Pooh, as he loaded another cartridge into the gun. \n\nThings just hadn't been the same in the Hundred Acre Woods after Owl had started studying the old book that Rabbit had dug up in his new garden bed.\n\nPiglet huddled behind Pooh, \"Is, is, is, he going to get us, Pooh?\"\n\n\"My dear Piglet,\" said Pooh as he flipped the safety off, \"I don't think so.\"\n\nPooh aimed as Tigger bounced closer, fluff coming out of tears on his body and one button eye hanging loose, then fired. The first shot took off one of Tiggers ears but he kept coming closer, \"the wonderful thing... about... brains... brains are wonderful... things,\" moaned Tigger.\n\nThe second shot hit Tigger in the face and he went down, twitched for a moment then was still.\n\nEeyore appeared, seemingly out of nowhere and startled Piglet, who jumped up and ran inside Pooh's house, slamming the door behind him.\n\n\"Oh, Eeyore, I didn't notice you there. How did you get here? There are zombies everywhere. Even under my honey tree.\" said Pooh, with a heavy sigh on the last sentence.\n\n\"No one ever notices me. Even the zombies don't notice me,\" said Eeyore.\n\n\"Oh, that gives me an idea, if I can just think of what it is,\" said pooh sitting on a nearby tree stump and tapping his forehead with his mitten like hands, \"think, think, think... Oh! We need to find Christopher Robin, I think I know how to save the Hundred Acre Wood.\"\n\nAnd so, with covering fire from Pooh and Christopher Robin, Eeyore was able to sneak by Zombie Owl to throw the Book of the Damned in Owl's cozy fireplace and save his friends. Then he went along his way, very pleased with himself.", "\"Oh bother\" grumbled Pooh, as he loaded another cartridge into the clip. \"You've been a very naughty boy Christopher Robin.\"\n\nChristopher Robbin sat with his hands tied to his feet, blood running down his skinned knees, gagged by a dirty paisley do-rag that Pooh had pulled from his collection of honey jars.\n\n\"A very naughty boy indeed.\" Pooh liked the music of loading the clip. He held the grey rectangle between his legs as he pushed another cartridge down. The click of each cartridge and the hum of the spring from within put Pooh into a singing mood. \n\nWhen I click, click, load the stick,\nit puts me in the mood.\nClick, click, load the stick.\nLeaves me feeling good.\n\nI have sat here, by myself\nfor so many years.\nAnd now I'm off the shelf,\nI'm going to make him fear.\n\nClick, click, load the stick,\nyou've been a naughty boy.\nDid you really think that we,\nwould just move on with joy.\n\n\"What's that Christopher Robin, I can't hear you,\" Pooh said.\n\nChristopher Robin gave a muffled cry like a bird being squeezed.\n\n\"Hit him again Tigger,\" Pooh said. \n\nTigger looked down at his feet, his paws folded together. \n\n\"Hit him again!\"\n\n\"But Pooh, I thought you just wanted me to scare him,\" Tigger said. \n\n\"Scare him?\" Pooh loaded the clip and chambered a round as he walked towards Tigger. \"You think I just want to scare him? You all have been together all these years. You've been able to chatter. Me? I was the favorite. He left me out on display. So many years, and not a drop of honey, not even a teensy weensy morsel of conversation, and you think I want to scare him?\"\n\n\"Now, now, now Pooh. You've had your f, ff, fu, fun,\" Piglet said. \"Let. Him. Go.\"\n\nPooh whipped the gun around and squeezed the trigger. He was totally unprepared for the sound of the bullet leaving the chamber. To him it sounded like a thousand jars of honey cracking all at once. Even in his rage, he flinched. When he looked up, only a bit of fluffy stuffing remained where Piglet's head once was. \n\n\"Anyone else want to argue with me?\" Pooh said. In unison, the residents of the Hundred Acres Woods shook their head. \n\n\"Good,\" Pooh said leering at Christopher Robin. \"See Christopher? If I've grown to find Piglet bothersome, how very bothersome you must be to me? How very bothersome indeed. Now, I'll grant you this much. One last wish. What will it be, Christopher Robin?\"\n" ]	5
	[WP] reality and fantasy switch.. the first thing to go is the electricity, and the first to come is magic...	[ "The TV shut off, and the lights dimmed, leaving the house in near total darkness.\n\n\"Power outage\" dad muttered\n\nHe walked to the window and looked outside.\n\n\"Must have taken out the whole block.\" He sighed \"I'll get the candles\"\n\nI went upstairs to look out my bedroom window. Our house sat on top of a hill, and I could see for miles out my bedroom window. It faced the city, and as I fell asleep at night I would often look out and watch the lights from traffic as they wound they're way through the buildings and onto the interstate, going back to their homes in the suburbs. Holidays were the best, since I could see the skyscrapers and their festive lights. As I reached the window, I noticed that it wasn't just the block that had gone out, but the entire city. In fact, I couldn't see a single light. But then I looked up.\n\nAbove the city the stars glinted and sparkled as never before. The vast scale of it was breathtaking. From horizon to horizon, millions of stars dotted across the night sky, their previously obscured light now laid bare before my eyes. Constellations I'd only ever heard of now were not only visible but easily seen. But the view that caused me hold my breath was the Milky Way. Across the sky it's beautiful tapestry of stars was woven, an insight into our cosmic neighbors. \n\nI don't know how long I stood there watching that night sky, but I began to notice something wrong with the image. Slowly, I noticed the darkness between two stars begin to increase. Along the axis of the split, other stars began to separate. The void opened its maw, creating a rent in the sky. From the maw came an explosion, entirely silent, but intensely bright, causing me to stumble back and pass out. \n\nI awoke in sunlight, it's rays warming me and telling my brain that it was morning. I slowly got up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and adjusting to the brightness. Remembering the oddness of the night before, I looked out my window. Things were quiet. No cars moved, no dogs barked, the city seemed in a trance. I went downstairs to make breakfast. Opening the fridge, I felt the warm air rush out of it and realized the power was still out. Without milk, I settled for dry cereal. As I sat munching on the cereal, the front doors burst open, and my father flew in on a horse. That wasn't hyperbole, he literally FLEW in the front doors on a horse. \n\n\"We need to leave\" he said hurriedly\n\nMaybe it was the tone in his voice, or maybe it was the winged horse standing in the living room, but I realized that something had changed with the power outage. And it was going to take some adjusting.", "Did you die? Well, for a minute there, everyone died.\n\nWell, technically, we're still dead by old standards. Fortunately, a not insignificant number of us are still able to move and walk around. Don't worry, that includes you, you're as fine as any of us other than the whole \"was just in a coma\" thing.\n\nI'm sorry, I should probably start at the beginning.\n\nSee, magic was already there, at least a little bit. It was hiding in secret places; there were remnants of it still here. All it would take is a bit of a kick-start, and something for it to... eat, for lack of a better world.\n\nOh, that noise? Just heavy rain. You wouldn't believe what the weather's like without a good thunderstorm now and then to clear the air. Don't worry, it's normal nowadays.\n\nAnyway, magic is a fundamental force of reality now. It can't break the laws of nature, but it's the new law. It allows for all sorts of interesting abilities like calling forth flame from nothing, or teleporting great distances, or--yes, I suppose I am talking to you without opening my mouth, I guess I've gotten used to it. Telepathy's one that we've all got, actually. Magic makes its own kind of internal sense, too--you can, with the right spells, see and understand the magic that becomes heat or distorts distance or transcribes thought. It hasn't been nearly long enough for us to understand how magic works exactly, but we've already figured out that it can be represented as a Vang-Leon field which distorts nearby thaums such that they--\n\nRight, right, how we got here.\n\nSee, magic is a new fundamental force of nature, and I didn't choose that phrasing lightly. In order for it to come back, something equally big had to go. Honestly, it's probably for the better that what went was \"only\" electricity, because I don't fancy the idea of all matter exploding or something equally nasty. Even more lucky, the simple stuff-like, say, atoms- were mostly held together with magic in a way that's almost the same as before, although not quite. Of course, that meant that most of Western civilization shut down for a few months and is still taking a while to recover, but it could be infinitely worse. There weren't even that many casualties from that part of it.\n\nYes, I did say we all died.\n\nNo, I'm not talking about losing your Facebooks and your Twitters and even your Reddits and whatnot to the disaster. This was much worse.\n\nI mentioned we all had telepathy, right? I think you'll find that you have it too-- you'd have to, to survive. See, telepathy is the transcription of thoughts into magic.\n\nBefore, thoughts consisted of calcium ions, with electrical charges.\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] The Olympic athletes are chosen like jury duty. They recieve a random letter in the mail telling them they have 4 years to train for an event.	[ "\"Next for Team USA is Enrico Palatzo!\" The crowd's cheer faded as a medical bed was wheeled out by a surly looking nurse. The nurse glared at the judged who looked elsewhere and the bed was shoved toward the balance beam. The nurse lifted up Enrico and placed him onto the balance beam. Enrico's uniform full of sequins and the Red White and Blues glistening under the lights for a moment. Then he was hoisted back onto the bed. \n\n\"Uh Team USA, every one!\" The stadium was silent. It was times like this that a random lottery didn't work. A comatose man didn't make the best athlete.", "Larry squinted at the letter in his hands, the ink slightly smudged from sweat. He was having a hard time focusing on anything other than a few sentences.\n\nYou have been selected...100-meter sprint and 200-meter sprint...long jump...civic duty towards athletic competence...state-administered trainer...August 2020...Good luck, future Olympian.\n\nLarry snorted. Good luck. He shook his head. Who even runs in this day and age? He thought of the last time he ran, hands fumbling with his belt after drinking the water in Mexico they tell you not to drink. \n\n\"You coming outside? The burgers are ready. Grilled to perfection.\" A bearded face poked in from around the porch door, grinning sheepishly.\n\n\"Nick, I, uh, I don't think I can eat burgers anymore. Or anything that isn't green.\" He patted his generous gut and felt it ripple. \"I got picked to run in the Olympics,\" He shook his head, hand on forehead. \"Fuck.\"\n\n\"Fuck.\" Nick sighed, shuffling into the room. \"Well, hey, look at it this way. You've always wanted to visit Japan.\"\n\n\"I have. Like five times. I don't want to visit Japan anymore. Maybe ever again.\"\n\n\"Don't worry, dude. My aunt and her running group could totally take you in.\"\n\n\"Your 65-year old aunt,\" Larry stared holes into him.\n\nNick scratched his furry beard. \"Alright, fair enough. It's in four years, though, man. Just come and eat my food. It's calling.\"\n\n**\n\nLarry knocked the tips of cleats against the ground, the adrenaline pumping wildly through him. A crowd of thousands cheered around him, the raucous energy echoing in the massive stadium. Camera flashes clicked and flashed like a monochrome light show, welcoming him into the eyes of the world. It was unreal. He shook himself out, feeling more limber than he had in years. His trainer had been excellent, one of the best in the country. He could see his face in his mind, the disappointment and confusion when they first met. The days and days of brutal training, in heavy rain and smothering heat. The trips and falls, down grassy hills and up winding paths, skinned knees and swollen ankles, and a fierce determination to prove common sense about aging wrong. Larry was ready.\n\nHe and his competitors set themselves at their starting blocks. A profound quiet overcame the stadium. To his left: Canada, Sweden, Kenya. To his right: Russia, Jamaica, Japan, and his US partner. Larry steadied his breathing. The 100-meter was all about explosiveness. Nothing but the push, full-drive forward. That's all there is to it. He took one last meditative breath as the starter walked to the starting line.\n\nThe starter nodded to the runners. \"On your mark.\"\n\nNothing but the push.\n\n\"Set.\" He was ready.\n\nThe pistol fired. Every muscle in Larry's body sprung into motion. He pushed off the ground with expert balance, the years of training thrusting him forward in action. This was it.\n\nHe stepped on his shoelace, tripped, and faceplanted immediately. Larry was not ready.\n\n\n\n ", "This has to be a dream,* I assured myself I stared down at the crisp, cream-colored envelope with the waxy gold government seal in horror. Everyone knew it was the time of the year that invitations for 2160 Olympics were mailed out to random, unsuspecting citizens. It was your chance to “serve your country in the noblest regard” and those who won received “the highest veneration in the country”. However for most, it was a death sentence.\n\nAround 2100, the governments came to an agreement to improve entertainment quality in the Olympics. People were bored of the same ol’ “look at what humanity is capable of” competition. There was no excitement to watch a man run as fast as he could for 100 meters. No one bats an eyelash when a gymnast nails a double half layout, complete with a twist. These may have been great events over a century and half ago. But then people truly wanted to see evolution in action. They wanted to see what humans were capable of when it actually mattered.\n\nIt started off small. Jousting was approved to be an Olympic sport once again. Wax bullets in the dueling event were replaced with real bullets. Fencing swords were replaced with real swords. Wrestling matches were until one of the competitors hearts stopped. Then it escalated. Gymnasts had to do their routines over spiked pits. Ski jumps and pole vaults launched themselves over pits of lava. Bobsledders had to outrun avalanches. Swimmers and runners had to race against starved predators. Pretty much every sport was replaced with some horrifically violent version.\n\nThere was no more medals handed out to the first, second, and third place athletes or teams. For many sports, you only won if you survived.\n\nNo one expected to be chosen. I mean, your chances were one in tens of millions. At age 13, your name was thrown into the lottery and will remain there until your 50th birthday. There used to be no limits to what age a person could be chosen. However, after the riots of 2116, when a five year old boy and seventy year old man were partnered for the doubles kayak event and were sucked into a whirlpool, they added the restriction. They still don’t talk about it much. \n\nFor a while, they had a ban on certain medical conditions, but after people started paying off doctors to diagnose them, they opened it back up, citing something about “natural selection”. Nothing kept you from participating except death. Even then, they had backups for all athletes in case you died in training or had a terminal illness, but those envelopes were sealed in red. A gold seal indicated you were the primary choice.\n\nThe governments took too much advantage of the system. Wars weren’t fought anymore. Disputes were resolved over which country’s athletes remained at the end of Olympics. The population crisis was improving as thousands were killed every couple years in various Olympic events. The random selection was held over the heads of terrified citizens, threatening that if they didn’t remain peaceful, their names or their children’s names may be added into the lottery a few more times. You could put your name into the lottery more than once as some of the elites and professional athletes did. Winning came with the promise of fame, fortune, and great power. Winning the Olympics meant you were the best of humanity. There was no greater title a person could hold.\n\nI was neither elite nor an athlete. My sister was the athletic one. She was the one who should have been representing our country in the Olympics. But after checking and double checking and triple checking the name on the envelope, I realized there was no mistake. I had been chosen. In four years, I would be participating in an event, selected based off of my abilities. That was the only reprieve when it came to being selected. All of the candidates were assessed and chosen for the event best suited for them. They used to just chose at random, but when one of the greatest runners in the nation was killed in the pole vaulting event, they decide to give athletes a fighting chance.\n\n“What do you got there, Juli-bean?” my father asked, interrupting my thoughts. He had just come home from work to find me standing in front of the mail slot. He froze mid step as he noted the gold seal and paled. His next words were breathless. “Who’s it for? Abi, right?”\n\nHe was hopeful. If it was Abi, he must not have to go through the horror of burying one of his daughters. If it was Abi, there might be a chance she’d survive. If it was Abi, it wouldn’t be me, awkward, clumsy Julia who was supposed to be getting a full ride to a good engineering school. I was the one who was following in my father’s footsteps, who would take over the family business one day. I was the one who had spent my life focusing on intellectual pursuits and not giving a damn about sports. Now everything I had been planning, that we had been planning, was for nothing.\n\nIt wouldn’t matter how hard I trained or how much hard I pushed myself. Nothing mattered anymore. In four years, I would be dead.\n\n\n~~~~~~\n\nSorry if it's a bit messy. Was trying to write quickly. I plan on continuing and improving the story, but will only continue posting if you want me to.\n\nEdit: For some typos", "\"A runner?, a runner? Jesus, first a rampaging squirrel scratches my car and now this, could my life get any unluckier?\"\n\nJoe Traven was less than impressed with the recent post from team GB about his selection for the forthcoming games. Most of the reason was he was 5'3\" and 24 stone, the only time he had ever ran was when he saw the ice cream van pulling away at age 8 where he had then proceeded to trip and fall breaking his pinky and losing his dignity, never again he promised, and so far that promise was being upheld.\n\n\"Aww honey, look at the bright side, they'll provide you with food!\"\n\nUnsympathetic and looking on the greener side of life was Mary, it was one of the most loved and also most hated facts Joe had about his adoring wife.\n\nMary: \"Now when does it say you must report for duty?\" \n\nJoe: \"Says I must be in Birmingham on the 24th, god that's a Sunday, what about my roast! Blooming heck, my life is ruined!!\"\n\nMary: \"Nonsense, they'll get you trained up, looking sharp and trim, these people know what they're doing we almost won a medal last time out for goodness sake!\"\n\nJoe: \"Awww I know I know, but I've never been convinced by these new fangled scientific discoveries they've made into making us \"normies\" into the elite\"\n\nMary: \"It all looks fine and dandy to me my darling, you'll love it!\"\n\nJoe: \"It's not that though Mary.....\"\n\nMary: \"Joe? Joe, what is it?\"\n\nJoe: \"It's the blooming Paralympics, how the fudge am I going to lose a leg by next week....\"\n\n", "He can feel the anxious pounding of his heart inside his rotund chest. Nervous sweat drips down his oily back, and his dank breath wheezes in and out. \n\nThe letter sits atop the stack of paperwork describing his various medical conditions.\n\nFinally, he oinks in a reedy cheetoey breath, \"I want a second opinion.\"\n\nThe doctor sighs. \"We have gone over this Mr. Giuseppe. The exemption doesn't allow for self-inflicted conditions. It would be the same if you were a smoker, drinker, or drug user.\"\n\nMr. Giuseppe wheezed, trying to force a few crocodile tears out his beady porcine eyes. \n\n\"Please doc, you gotta help me!\", his voice rattled.\n\n\"I can help you, but not the way you want. I've have referrals for nutritionists, dietitians, and a physical therapist lined up. You are top of the list, and we could have your first appointments all in the next week.\"\n\nThe man moved from pleading to shouting, \"I'll sue you! When I die out there I'm coming for your ass!\"\n\nHe stained to plop his wobbly hamhocks onto the ground, and steadied himself on his self-prescribed quad-tipped cane. \n\n\"You're dead!\" he continued shouting, \"You're over! I'll sue you to death!\" \n\n...\n\n\"C'mon doc, I can't handle the stress!\", the man pleaded.\n\nThe psychiatrist that his fourth 'second opinion' referred him to sat across from the strained couch, staring at the greasy man. \n\n\"Barry, you know you are upset.\" he said, exerting the full force of his disciplined calm to keep from barking at the grown man in the throws of a toddler tantrum. \n\n\"I think we can come up with a solution, okay.\"\n\n\"You goddamned better!\", he pouts.\n\n\"Do you think you could make it to your appointment with the physical therapist?\"\n\n\"No. Its too hard.\"\n\nA pause.\n\n\"Barry, what do you expect to happen that's too hard?\"\n\nBarry holds back a real sob. \n\n\"They are gonna make me work out. Exercise,\" sniffles, \"real hard.\"\n\n\"I talked with Dr. Arry, and she said that she was only going to do some observations. Do you think you could do that for me Barry? Just once?\"\n\n\"okay. Just once...\"\n\n...\n\n\"ITS TOO HAAAAAARD\" Barry screamed, a deep guttural noise that was quite unlike the reedy whining his trainer was accustomed to. \n\nThe loud clang of the weights was worth it though. Barry just beat his previous bench-press. 205 lbs of lead quivered on the rack, and the athlete in training quivered beneath it. \n\n\"Barry, you're an absolute madman! Give me a hug bruh!\", Randy chuckled. \n\nBarry rolled over, wincing at his aching pectorals and abdominal muscles, and happily clapped his trainers back. He decided that Randy wasn't just his trainer, Randy was actually his friend.\n\n...\n\nThey all came out to see him pre-qualify. Five different primary care doctors, a small team of trainers and nutritionists. Randy sat up front, rolling his wedding ring while tightly griping Barry's on a chain around his neck. \n\nBarry's mom still wouldn't come. She would scream, bellow, and finally wheeze that they had taken her baby away and turned him against her. They had even rented the assistance van and made sure everything was ADA compliant, just in case. A bouquet of flowers sat atop the blue marked area next to the bleachers instead.\n\nA gasp of shock rippled through the crowd. This team broke out into hysterics before Barry did. He came to the sidelines and soothed their hearts. \n\n\"Its okay, I only clipped it a little.\", Barry said. He was calm, and spoke steadily. \n\n\"I can get better..\"\n\n...\n\nThe day of the event, the noise of the crowd drowned out by the announcers and megaphones. \n\nBarry stares forward. Focused. Determined. \n\nPowerful.\n\nHe holds the pole, loosens and tightens his grip. This regulation pole was the tiniest bit lighter than the one he trained with. A smirk on his face, covered again by his absolute will. \n\nThe crowd chanted \"U! S! A!, U! S! A!\" but his team chanted \"Barry! Barry!\". \n\nThe buzzer sounds, and he takes off on his sprint. He times and counts his steps. Every motion effortless, controlled. \n\nHe lifts his arms up, feeling a touch of embarrassment from his excess skin flapping. He breathes in, timed, feeling pride at his accomplishments. \n\nOne hands descends, while the other arcs upward. The pole strikes the ground, catches, bows.\n\nBarry leaps, feeling gravity and force compete with his body, and he rolls this feet and hips upwards. \n\nHis feet fly over, as he is momentarily weightless as all the competing forces cancel each other. Flying forward, he arches his hips. \n\nA frozen bolt of fear streaks through him as he brushes across the top of the pole. Barry pushes with every ounce of will and discipline. Don't panic, stick to the routine. His feet slowly drop and he rounds the pole. Maybe it's just where the pole should be. The crowd is silent, or maybe he just can't hear them over the steady pounding of his own heart.\n\n\"It doesn't matter. You won. You beat the old Barry, your only real opponent\", he tells himself on the way down. \n\nThe crowd erupts.\n\nEDITS: Dem typos", "The door opened on the office of the Olympic Commission, and in came a man in a wheelchair.\n\n\"Yes sir, how may I help you?\" greeted the clerk.\n\n\"I'd like to complain about me being chosen for the 100 meter dash,\" said the man.\n\n\"...yes, I suppose that could be a problem,\" agreed the clerk. \"Let me talk to my boss for second.\"\n\nShe took out her phone and dialed a number. After a few minutes of talking to the other person on the line, she hanged up. \"There's a position on the shooting events, if that's alright with you, sir?\"\n\n\"That would be fine,\" said the man. He tipped his hat to her and went on his way. \"I'll be waiting for my new assignment, then. Have a nice day.\"", "Robert Venati pulled on his collar for the third time in a row. The small office wasn't hot or uncomfortable in any way. In fact, the air con was keeping the room at a crisp temperature that was somewhere in between hot and cold, and the chair under him reclined at just the right angle, to deliver perfect relaxation. The truth was, he was simply anxious about whether or not John, his boss, would suspect him. \n\nRob laid a stack of folders on the desk and pushed them toward John. His boss finished up the email he was sending and then looked away from his laptop screen. \"Right, what time is it?\" he asked, more as a reminder to himself than a conversation starter. The time on the wall read two minutes before closing. \n\n\"If you want to look at these tomorrow, we can do that instead?\" Rob asked. \n\nJohn looked at the wall clock, puffing his cheeks one after the other while he thought about it. \"Nah, this only takes a minute anyhow. Let's make it snappy and get the fudge outta here.\" \n\nRob gulped. \"Sure thing.\" \n\nHe watched John count the folders out, then again, and then a third time to make sure. John looked up at him, searching for some semblance of what was going on. But Rob kept a straight face. \"There are only twelve here?\" John asked. \n\n\"Are you sure?\" Rob said. \n\n\"Rob, I've counted it three times -uno, dos, tres. Where's the thirteenth? You know we send thirteen invites out a day. Everybody knows that.\"\n\n\"I - I know, John. I must have been busy and messed up the count. . . I mean, the person probably wasn't much of an athlete if I forgot to send them an invitation to the Olympics.\"\n\n\"That's why we give them four years to train up, fruit loop. You know what, maybe you did it and you forgot, it happens. I'll head into the system and check it out, right now,\" John said, shifting his hands to his laptop. \n\nRob panicked. \"Look, don't waste your time. You shouldn't have to spend extra hours checking up something I should have done. I'll go in right now and put a new request through, in fact, I'll go in and do thirteen more just because I'm such a klutz.\" \n\n\"You know I'll have to wipe all the work you did today in order for you to re-do the numbers,\" John said. \n\n\"I'm committed to doing my best, John. I don't mind working overtime for this.\" \n\nRob crossed his fingers under the table. While John scratched at his chin and then looked up at the clock. \"You'll clear out the trash and then lock up?\" \n\n\"Whatever you need, boss,\" Rob said. \n\n\"Well, my hard working letter sender, if staying longer hours is what you need to feel better, you've got a deal,\" John said. \n\nRob got up and bowed. \"You won't regret it, sir.\" He turned to leave. \n\n\"Just one second, Rob,\" John said, pulling an envelope from his pocket and placing it on the table. \n\nRob picked it up and met his bosses glare, who simply nodded toward the envelope in return. Inside, was a familiar looking shredded piece of paper. He unfolded it, and at the top, he read: Dear Mr. Robert Venati, we at Olympics trust would like to invite you to the 2020 Tokyo Olympics as a sprints competitor. This is a great opportunity to represent your country. . .\n\nRob tugged on his collar again. \"I. . .\" \n\nBut his boss was already looking back at his laptop. \"Make sure you take that letter home with you, someone chucked it in the bin downstairs.\" \n\n\"Yes, sir,\" Rob mumbled, walking to the door. \n\n\"Oh and Rob,\" John said, \"I'll expect those other thirteen on my desk before you leave.\" \n\n\n\n \n" ]	7
	[WP] Organized assassinry is legalized in the United States. In less than a decade it's become a $9 billion industry, utterly destroyed unemployment, and ushered in a true democracy: the will of the knife	[ "I passed one of the protestors again today. \"DOWN WITH OLIGARCHY!\" read the sign. Idiots. Just because the rich could hire better assassins than most people didn't mean we lived in an oligarchy. Anybody could be an assassin if they worked hard enough. Hell, if they thought the system was so bad, why didn't they grab a rifle and start working to change the law themselves? Quit complaining about the unemployment rate, if you need a job that badly, my firm is always hiring suicide bombers.\n\nSure, the last three Presidents have all been Libertarians, and the most recent one had to revise his platform after death threats from Shell and Exxon, but did they manage to get any really awful bills passed? No, and it's because honest Americans murdered their local congressmen to make sure they couldn't pass a trade deal. Think globally, assassinate locally.\n\nI'll admit, the system's not perfect. The Secret Service's budget has quadrupled in response to the increase in attacks, a wasteful pork-barrel project that for some reason Congress refuses to do anything about. And the market is full of incompetent assassins who miss their shots and hit some innocent tourist who's visiting the capital. You really ought to have some sort of license to be an assassin; there's a couple of congressmen I'm targeting for that issue.\n\nBut those are just my pet issues. Today, I'm in Washington on business. The Kickstarter met its funding goals and then some, so I'm officially hired to work on the upcoming cuts to Social Security. I silently slide my pistol out of my coat as I approach my target.\n\n\"Senator Hartford? The Baby Boomers send their regards.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You invent a time machine. Instead of being able to transport anywhere in time, you can only go anywhere in time when this invention has been created.	[ "The pieces for time travel had assembled perfectly. Everything had fallen into place: the equations, the logic, the ancient time artifacts; it had been like one big jigsaw puzzle. Of course, that wasn't what the media was going to hear. The interviews played out in my mind: it had taken a visionary of my caliber to first perceive the connections. It had taken endless hours of work to refine them. It had taken a bit of luck—because every genius requires humility.\n\nThe display blinked to life. I blinked back. 2018, it read. One hundred years into the past. It had to be a glitch; UI had never been my forte, after all. But when I stepped out of the machine, I found myself in a garage straight out of the new millennium, with a vintage '03 Prius in the middle and a bunch of manual power tools hanging from the walls. I took a deep breath and immediately regretted it as all the airborne viruses of the era began to settle into my lungs.\n\n\"Ah, the first visitor.\" A pudgy old man entered the garage, an oil stained sweatshirt tied around his waist. He sniffed through a wad of congestion and held out a hand that glistened with grease and mucus. \"Tell me about the future.\"\n\n\"Hold on,\" I said, folding my arms, \"First, you tell me about the past. How am I even here? You do know how this machine works, right?\"\n\n\"Why, of course.\" The man clapped his hands together and bounced back and forth on his heels. \"I invented it, after all.\"\n\n\"That can't be...\" I hadn't spent the past eight years researching and scavenging and lucking out only to have some 21st century caveman take all the credit. And yet, it would explain how I ended up in his time, in his garage. \"I built this machine, though.\"\n\nThe man's joy fell from his face and splattered onto the floor. \"You don't mean fixed it? Or refurbished it? You—\"\n\n\"I built the time capacitor and the flux stabilizer and the continuum tunnel. I assembled the dimensional loom and wove the quantum fabric.\" The terms tumbled out of my mouth, plucked from the dregs of my scrapped sci-fi novels. Hopefully, they would be enough to intimidate the guy into accepting my truth. \"This,\" I continued, motioning to the machine, \"is my life's work.\"\n\nThe spaghetti in his head began to gain sentience. His brow creased, and he shook a chubby finger at me. \"Now, listen here, boy. I know how my machine works. You probably found it in one of your future museums, and you came back here thinking to try and get your name written in the history books. Over mine.\" The man scrubbed his nose with the side of his arm and walked over to the machine. He slapped the top affectionately, leaving a slimy handprint that I could feel across my back. \"This is my life's work.\"\n\n\"Prove it. Explain how this works.\" I pointed to the orange bauble dangling from the side. \"Explain this,\" I said, toeing the vent across the bottom. \"Explain it all.\"\n\nHe laughed, over and over, and it slowly devolved into a wheeze. \"Juvenile trick. You'll take what I say and claim it was your idea. No, it's on you to tell me how my machine works.\"\n\nThe ugly truth stared me in the face. It had been all too easy, I realized. What I had attributed to divine providence had actually been the work of an arrogant old baboon living out of his own garage. Still, neither his face nor his name had ever made it into our history books. Maybe because he was too hideous for print. Or maybe because...\n\nI lunged for him, wrapping my arms around his throat. His sneer turned into panic, and it never left his face. Snot bubbled from his nose as he choked, and the life slowly faded from his eyes. When he had stopped moving, I grabbed his keys from his belt, unlocked the Prius, and dragged him and the machine into the back. \n\nThe streets I drove were vaguely familiar. The biggest changes over a hundred years were in the buildings: suburbia still stood, and mom and pop shops lined the streets, conducting the last of their businesses. Many landmarks had remained the same: the statue of Captain Wycliffe, the old church, and most importantly, the sinkhole over by the quarry. \n\nI ditched the Prius in a field, shoved the man into the time machine, and began to haul it towards the sinkhole. As I pushed it over the edge of the pit, and it started to sink, I scrambled inside and quickly input the commands for my own time period. The two of us disappeared into the future, the machine into the ground.\n\nOne hundred years later, an aspiring archaeologist would find the makings of a basic time machine at the bottom of a sinkhole not five miles from his own house. He would build it, test it, and successfully return to his own time, ready to be heralded the genius of the century." ]	1
	[WP] Monsters trying to break stereotypes about their races.	[ "I have a dream! I have a dream that one day in our underworld the sons of Skinwalkers and Wraiths can sit at the table of Monsterhood and eat humans in peace. I have a dream that even in the Lake of Fire, a place with the sweltering heat of justice, a place with the sweltering heat of 9 layers of torture, will be transformed to offer more violence to bind humans and crush their justice. I have a dream that my 4 minions will live in the underworld and not be judged by the color of their tentacles, but by their appetite for destruction. I have a dream today! " ]	1
I suck at writing, and maybe this is a stupid/narrow prompt with no plot to develop, but I've had it in my head for years, so when I discovered this reddit I decided to post it. P.S. - This is my first time posting here, so please tell me if I did something horribly wrong before banishing me into the abyss forever.	[WP] Year 2098. You live in a closed city that nobody is allowed to leave. Every crime is punishable by death, including questioning what lies beyond the heavily guarded border. One day, a brief "glitch" in the sky appears, showing ruins spanning to the horizon. You're the only one that notices.	[ "Tick. He unfastened his watch straps. Tick. He adjusted the time.\n\nThe gears stopped. \n\n“Odd”, Felix thought. He continued to play around with the mechanism while he walked home. The scent of gunpowder filled the air as he walked across the main plaza. Other than the few drones that patched up bullet holes in the concrete foundations, the plaza was lifeless. The few trees that had been there last month were scorched, colored charcoal. The marble statue in the center, on which the robots worked on, gleamed morbid in the tinge of red that covered its shoes. Almost as if it had single-handedly stepped on the last pocket of resistance. Felix ignored it. The metal clang of the robots were a mere echo now as he turned left at the next corner. He tinkered a little more with his watch. The hands revolved smoothly then stopped. Felix’s ears perked up. The sound of metal stopped ringing from the plaza. The hands spiraled past 2 pm, and the hammering began again, along with the Ticks from his watch. \n\nFelix found it strange. He set his fingers to back to the crown, the gear, to adjust the time, before a plain voice greeted him.\n\n“Good afternoon!” \n\nAn enforcer greeted him. Felix stared at him for awhile then remembered his manners.\n\n“ ‘Afternoon” he replied.\n\n“What seems to be the problem sir?” the enforcer asked.\n\n“Oh... no problem.” Felix answered, rather timidly.\n\n“Well you seem to forget that the rain showers begin at 2.”\n\nRain showers. Felix shivered at the thought of the corrosive droplets that would fall from the sky.\n\n“I was just heading home.” Felix said.\n\n“Good.” The enforcer gaze up at the sky. “The sky’s starting to act up”\n\nI looked nervously toward the sky, an oily maelstrom of gas that formed above them.\n\n I fidgeted with my watch again. I stopped, and almost dropped the watch.\nAn outline of a city appeared as the dark sky seemed to part. I looked at the enforcer but he was frozen. I waved my arm in front of his face cautiously. He didn’t respond. Emotionless, motionless; literally frozen.\n\nEverything froze beyond Felix’s mind, which seemed to acknowledge only one thought.\n\nAnother ruin beyond my ruin\n\n____________________\nWould love the feedback :)", "It was midday when it happened. I'm a delivery man for a bakery in the city. Every day I have the same route, with very few exceptions. It was on my route, delivering the daily bread rations to the guards at the border, when I saw it.\n\nI gawked at the horizon that had once been simply dust and dirt, lifeless plains that stretched far as the eye could see and possibly further. No one questioned it, we all knew the history of how we came to be here in this city, isolated with little means of supporting life inside the border. Supposedly it was there to keep things out. I never dared ask what the things were. Rumors spread from mutated monsters to savage dogs hungry for a meal. I didn't want to know either way.\n\nFor a brief moment, however, as I handed the box of wrapped up loaves to the guard in charge that day, the horizon changed. The dust and dirt on the plains changed to a rich vegetation that ran wild and free. Vines and trees wrapped around giant towering buildings that hadn't seen a soul in them for a few decades at least. I held my breath, staring at so much green on the land and blue in the sky was.. Incredible. It brought a tear to my eyes.\n\nAs suddenly as it flickered into sight, however, it disappeared. I let out a soft whimper, willing it to return.\n\nThe guard moved his hands in front of my face. \"Hey. Clyde? You all right there?\"\n\nI looked at him, \"Did you see that?\"\n\nThe guard frowned, \"See what?\"\n\nI nodded behind him. He turned to look, skimming the area. The sight, of course, was long gone. He turned back to me, still confused. \"Its the same as always, Clyde.\"\n\n\"No... There was.. Green on the land, and the sky was blue!\"\n\nThe guard scowled, \"The sky is as dirty and gray as always. Nothing blue up there since the explosions in the war.\"\n\n\"But....\"\n\n\"Go on. You should take a rest after your done. Seeing things like that...\" He had a warning tone in his voice as he motioned me to leave.\n\nI felt my stomach tighten a bit at it, nodding slowly as I walked back to my bicycle with the attached cart. Had he truly not seen it?\n\nI went on my route, asking each person there about the sight I had seen. No one, it seems, had noticed. They all thought me mad. Some said I should take a day off, others laughed and teased that I'd had a little something to drink before work. A few more recommended I see an eye doctor.\n\nThe day continued like that. I finished my route and returned back to the bakery. I didn't ask the baker, suspecting the same answer from him, as well. I stepped inside, dwelling inwardly to what I had seen.\n\nWhy had it happened? Did it even happen? I was starting to question if it had at all. Maybe I had simply imagined it. It was all something dreamed up wistfully, a part of me that longed to see what my great grandfather had when he was still alive.\n\n\"Thanks for your time, Clyde. Everyone happy?\" The baker asked on cue as I set the empty box in its usual spot\n\n\nI faked a smile and nodded, becoming my old cheerful self. \"Yep!\"\n\nThe baker smiled eagerly, \"Fantastic! Take a loaf for yourself. You've earned it.\"\n\nI nodded my gratitude, picking up a wrapped loaf before heading outside again.\n\nA dust storm was starting up. I grumbled, pulling my bandana over my face to block the grains of sand from irritating my lungs. I was just about to hurry off home before it got worse when someone grabbed me by the arm and pulled me in between the small alley of the bakery and the general store beside it.\n\nA man in a suit, worn in some spots, stood in front of me as he held my back to the wall of the bakery. His eyes were wildly staring into mine.\n\nI squirmed. He tightened his grip.\n\n\"Clyde... If you know what's best for you, you'll keep your mouth shut about what you saw.\" He warned.\n\nMy eyes widened, \"Did you see--\" I started to inquire.\n\nHe slapped my face, finger pointing afterwards. \"Not. A. Word. You start questioning, and that will be the end of that.\"\n\nA rush of fear spread through my body in realization. To question anything was a death sentence. I much rather wanted to stay alive. The strange sight, however, would not leave me alone. I pretended to ignore it and gave an understanding nod.\n\n\"Good. This is your only warning. No more talks about green land and blue sky. It doesn't exist.\" The man barked then turned and left, disappearing in the growing dust that whipped around outside the alleyway.\n\nI took a moment to collect my senses. Startled and frightened, I darted out of the alleyway and hurried home. I had to find out what was beyond the horizon, why they would keep us in this terrible place if something better was beyond here.\n\nFinding those answers might kill me.", "Looking at the sky is not outlawed, but it is heavily discouraged. Men and women are told to keep their heads down, to keep a stiff upper lip, and to go about with their business no matter what. It is unquestionably the American way, and it unquestionably always has been. To suggest otherwise is idiocy and death. Looking at the sky is a borderline offense, balancing on a razor's edge of limited personal freedom and implied disobedience.\n\nThere's almost never anything to see in the sky. It is pale blue. It has few clouds. It is not relevant. It is outside. Inside is safe. Inside is calm. Inside is not outside. There is nothing outside. There is everything inside. This is truth. This is the American way.\n\nBut, doubt is bleeding into my mind and poisoning my thoughts. The greatest of sins, to question the inside and desire the outside. It is insanity to desire nothing. No true American would desire nothing. The city is only for true Americans. We have nothing to offer the heretic, the non believer, the worthless sinner. \n\nBut I have seen. The sky peeled back to reveal what lay behind it. From my office, I could see it. Through my small window I could see it. The presence of something where infinite blue sky was once displayed. I saw more land, apparent infinity of land stretching beyond human knowledge. And I saw the corpses of ancient buildings. And then the sky returned, reassuring me that nothing lay past the walls, that what I saw was a lie, a brief glimpse into the unholy insanity of questions.\n\nI cannot keep the thoughts out of my head. Spinning and turning over and over waiting for a moment of weakness for it to consume me. I cannot keep myself from it, the question, the lie of freedom beyond our walls. Fear of the guards, fear of the walls, and fear of the sky. I cannot trust myself in all this fear, it poisons me with doubt. Or doubt has poisoned me with fear.\n\nMy faith has weakened. I am not worthy to live. I must turn myself in, I cannot poison any more with my fear and doubt. It may be too late, my sickness might have spread. I need to turn myself in. I need to turn myself in. I NEED TO TURN MYSELF IN.\n\nBut I can't. The fear prevents it. The fear poisons what I know is right and warps it. It makes the righteous appear evil and the unworthy appear righteous. I am lost and in the dark. I don't know what to do. I know what I must do, but it terrifies me. My knees quake when I pass an officer, when I watch the broadcasts of our leaders, when I think about the wall and the lying sky.\n\nBut the question remains, now solid and concrete in my mind: \"What if?\" What if the sky did not lie to me? What if it revealed truth? What if I am right to question?" ]	3

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