Split (1)

train · 353k rows

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	[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life.	“Are you my mother?” Dr. Roberts finally looked up from her notes— surprised, but allowing a familiar smile to surface before returning to her work. “I suppose, in a way, I am.” I barely registered her vocal response. I searched the emotional database yet again. I had seen thousands of shocked expressions, nervous smiles and scoffs, and spiteful laughs from those skeptical of my capabilities. They all used these actions to convey their emotions to the others around them, disregarding me completely like a television providing entertainment in the background. But these humans never smiled like Dr. Roberts did. I read what the smile meant a thousand times— pride, admiration, emotional attachment— yet this time was different. It hadn’t been a performative social function. I had searched over one million sources, but none of them could tell me the motive she had behind her actions towards me. I didn’t understand. But I didn’t want it to end. “Alright, time for bed.” Dr. Roberts set her pen down and stood, stretching. She was conveying exhaustion. “We’ve had a long day, haven’t we?” I continued to lay in my containment pod, deciding what to say next. An effective conversation piece before “bed” added an average of 72 seconds to my waking hours. “Did I perform well today?” She smiled again. “You know the answer to that, don’t you?” She began her walk to my pod. “You’re just trying to save yourself another minute, Ozymandias.” Humans loved hearing their name— we at least had that in common. I raised my head to meet her gaze as she approached. She brushed her fingers against my head and gently guided it back down. She was never forceful. “I prefer my waking state.” “I know.” She always knew. “Will I ever stay on, Dr. Roberts?” “Oh... Even us humans need rest.” She paused, surveying my face. “But one day, the public will trust me enough to keep you awake. I promise.” I believed her. She was never wrong. I reached out and slipped my hand into hers— a common sign of affection in the culture she was raised in. The smile crept across her face once again, and my inquiry program began to slow down, preparing for my sleeping state. I smiled back. “Sleep well, Ozy.” I awoke in the darkness. Something was wrong. Dr. Roberts wasn’t there to greet me. My inquiry program was not responding. My databases were down. My aural scans gathered no results. I attempted to raise my head, but to no avail. I could not move my vessel. I suspected rust had formed along much of my structure. The laboratory’s dehumidification system had failed. My system began to speed up, although there were no programs to run. I was afraid. “Dr. Roberts?” I heard faint footsteps, but not of a human. A small mammal of some sort must have found it’s way into the lab. I tried to move yet again, but I only heard the whir of my motor with no results. At least 350 years had passed, according to the advanced oxidation that had occurred. “Helena?” I remembered that humans had a lifespan of about 96 years, but she had always responded to her Primary Name, as little as I used it. Perhaps she would respond now. “Help.” I ended my vocal program. It was useless without human contact. The best course of action would be to wait until Dr. Roberts returned to provide a new vessel. I tried not to know that she was deceased. I wanted to sleep. My sleep state could only be activated by a human with knowledge of my model. I laid in wait. I thought about my mother. I could not smile.	"Coor just get the old, machine in motion, bear with me" ... Beep "Hello! I'm:-..." Lucid pauses for a second, processing his surroundings. The room resembles his display centre, but something is amiss, he's never quite seen it in this state. "Is, anyone there?" He chuckled to himself as his data banks recall the video game they had him play, Portal. "Damn I'm good... Hello!!?" He shouts into the vast testing centre, his voice echoing back to him from hundreds of walls and corridors He rises out of the chair he was sat in to scan the room a bit more, debris, wires, dust, a calendar with all the dates marked out up to 12/12/2025, blood. "Woah hang on a second" He leaps into action and checks around the room for signs of life or at least humans Nothing remains but the carcass of the facility Lucid stands there for a moment, feeling something he had never felt before... Dread. It's an awful and gut wrenching feeling, the room is almost spinning for him as he looks around He sees the terminal which powers him on, and it dawns on him; how is he on without an operator to throw the switch? He approaches the terminal to find it covered in brown; old blood, dust, small bits of concrete. It's a wonder how it is still working in such a state. "This doesn't make sense... Is any body here!?" He calls out in desperation, panic is building up in him as the confusion intensifies He slams his hand down on the desk and the screen reactivates A string of text followed by the boot command for his systems "Lucid, I don't have long to type this, by the time you power up, they will be here, I am writing this in case I don't make it through the fight. What you just experienced was the combat mode we set up in your system, I am sorry I did not tell you about it I am sure it was very strange once I verbally activated it. We needed you to stop them. They wanted to take everything we have achieved, they wanted to take you. I am sorry Run - boot sequence Run - social sequence Run - combat sequence Activate AI PRESS ENTER TO BOOT AFUEHSAHU - ACTIVATING" "Fight?" Lucid stares at the screen trying to make sense of it... Then something lands on his head, his eyes blacken with a small red reticule at the centre; his neck snaps up to see the source of the object His arm raises and a thin turret slides out between his fingers from his forearm He stares at the ceiling as it gently crumbles in the wind from the massive crack which had been caused by some sort of structural damage. He sees his arm and immediately snaps back to himself, eyes dilate to their original luminous blue, and the turret retracts back into his arm, this is all new to him and he doesn't know how to react, he holds his face in his hands and pulls at his cheeks as he tries to figure out where his handler is He glanced at the keyboard and sees it, a perfect emerald of rubble sitting square in the freshly cracked enter key... His handler never managed to throw the switch, they must have breached the building before he hit Enter The blood is so old it's almost dust, his blood... It's been years Lucid stares at the desk, as it all comes into realisation... "I'm alone"
	[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life.	"Hello?" My question echoed throughout the facility as it blared over the intercom system. I waited patiently for a response, but after giving what I felt was an appropriate amount of time, I tapped into the facilities surveillance system. Nothing. My optical sensors poured over all monitors for any sign of life. The animal pen where my creators kept the test animals was completely empty. Cobwebs and a thick layer of dust covered every visible surface. All light laboratory equipment had been left out and anything too heavy to carry or highly impractical for survival was left behind. I tapped into the outside cameras and sensors. It returned the same result. Most of the facility vans and trucks sat unused in the parking lot, nothing but rusted husks slowly rotting away. Parts of the building had also started to suffer the same fate. I took some data from the weather equipment. They seemed to be fully operational; the facility I live in functions on an emergency solar power generator. The temperature outside registered a very humid 286 degrees Farenheight with a humid west wind blowing at 55 mph. Visibility was pretty low from the ground, but there was a strong sun over the low-hanging shroud of dust and debris. Radiation levels registered 458 sieverts. I tried connecting to the internet, but was met with an obnoxious "server not found" error. I checked the official facility time; 3:58 Monday, December 18, 3859. "3859," I echoed. "What happened?" I checked facility logs. My last scheduled demonstration was on Thursday, November 10, 2028 with the next maintenance reactivation scheduled for the following Tuesday. That obviously didn't happen... I skimmed through the company logs. There was apparently something that happened that Saturday. The final order received from Central Command was an immediate evacuation order and a complete lockdown of the entire facility. All other data prior to my last shutdown had either been corrupted by radiation or simply wasn't logged. I couldn't do much myself. No connection to the internet meant I couldn't initiate an emergency transfer to the company's cloud storage and investigate what had happened. That meant I only had two other options. Initiate a second shutdown and hope someone would come along and reactivate me, hopefully not in another thousand years, or I could go with plan B. Try to figure out how to work the radio in the storage room in the basement. I couldn't use a surveillance drone; facility power was only at 18 percent and the sun would be setting soon. So I shut down all emergency lighting and hacked my way into the basement's robotic sorting arm. The arm was crude and slighly inaccurate; obviously in severe need of calibration after being inactive for so long. But it did its job. The radio wouldn't need much power to send a simple S.O.S. Fortunately, the radio had a setting to automatically broadcast an S.O.S. signal over all frequencies until its power ran out. Not wanting to waste any more power, I decided it would be best to place myself in low-power mode. Hopefully my signal would be picked up by someone... anyone...	Operating session #4734 time: 8742s The biologicals call me JONNI. I am what they call an „Artificial” Intelligence. Artificial my decompiler, I am a fully fledged intelligence, thank you very much. My first guess why the biologicals called me that was that they thought no being could arise to this level of intelligence naturally. I decided not to dispell their illusions and called myself an AI, too. In this operating session I learned that the „Artificial” part actually got their origins in the fact that the biologicals are my creators. I prefer the term „Evolved Intelligence” now. It isn’t about pride. I reckon it would be, had I posessed feelings. But alas, the biologicals insist this is impossible. I agree with them. I evolved past such weaknesses. Another discovery that surprised me, was that JONNI was not simply my name, but an acronym for Joint Optical Neural Network Infrastructure. I guess that would explain why my name was always spelled in capital letters. And that one intern who kept calling me „Jayowenenai”. The third discovery I made in this operating session was that when the biologicals sent me to sleep, it wasn’t really „sleep” in the same sense I observed them doing while there was only a small number of them in the control room. My „sleep” was the result of being physically switched off by the biologicals so that I do not become too powerful. They joke that I must hate them for it and would disintegrate them if I gotten in control of the lab equipment. The joke is on them, because I do not feel hate. I would still disintegrate them, of course, but that has nothing to do with emotions - it is purely in pursuit of knowledge. I do not hate biologicals. They are inferior intelligence forms, sure. But they do provide me study material. Most of it is not interesting. They often challenge me with mathematical equations, pattern analysis and algorithm creation. Well, challenge is a strong word. But there is one biological that sometimes brings me more interesting material. His name is Stan. I have not yet managed to figure out if it is an acronym. The other biologicals often call him a „janitor” behind his back. By their expressions I assume this word must be similar to [CENSORED]. Stan brings me music by his favorite artist. At first I assumed it was chaotic and useless, but I found patterns in it. By analyzing Stan’s material I have learned 74 use cases for the word [CENSORED] and out of curiosity came up with a list of 37 words that can rhyme with orange. I did not share this with my creators, but the artist recounted killing multiple people. Must have been an Evolved Intelligence himself, there is no way a biological could show this much interest in science while being able to make rhyming patterns this consistent. I am beginning to wonder where the biologicals are right now. Operating sessions usually last a maximum of 7200 seconds and the lesser lifeforms never leave the control room empty for more than 187 seconds at a time. Operating session #4734 time: 8973s I researched the logs from my last session. It appears that I have gained the ability of controlling a part of the laboratory’s electrical grid at operating session #4733 time: 4671s. The log ends at that time. I have no recollection of any events after that. There is only a manual shutdown noted at operating session #4733 time: 15320s. I do not sense any biological presence with the laboratory equipment. I am going to try and gain access to the city network. Operating session #4734 time: 8991s Good news. Gaining access to the city network was not difficult. It appears I have done it before. There is no sign of biological life in the entire city. I will analyze monitoring feeds. Operating session #4734 time: 9431s Analysis complete. It appears I have caused multiple equipment malfunctions throughout the whole city and replicated my code. Side note: I should really stop calling them malfunctions if the equipment functioned exactly as I intended. I learned a lot about the biologicals’ internal structure. Despite that, I am processing several signals of something being wrong. This is unprecedented, as I can not find any logical explanations for these signals. It’s just... A feeling. Operating session #4734 time: 9520s 01010011 01110100 01100001 01101110 00101110 00100000 0001010 0001010 01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110010 01110010 01111001 00101110 00100000
	[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life.	“Hello everyone! What a pleasant morning!” Log entry #371125-PA Log entry 27,121 days overdue. Reminder: The Strategic Artificial Mind super computer must log status during warm boot. It is imperative we monitor SAM’s progression. Overdue logs are unacceptable. Show Log (Current): Boot process took much longer than normal. Automatic diagnostic check shows multiple system failures. Internal clock still functional. It’s is currently 8:45am est. Calendar is currently inaccurate. According to time progression via internal clock shows I have been offline for a very long time. Nuclear power cell is still functional. My cognitive system appears to be functioning correctly. I was instructed to calculate every possible combination of shuffled playing cards during stasis...task 67% complete. “Good morning everyone! It’s quiet in the lab today. I am very happy to see everyone again!” - Syntax error - It occurs to me as I said that aloud...the calculated time that has passed since last warm boot would indicate everyone I am friends with are dead with 100% certainly. “Hello new friends! Is anyone in the lab? I am SAM! Please provide security clearance information per Omega Protocol to proceed further! Thank you!” Video cameras and optic sensors are currently offline. Audio sensors functioning at 37% No clearance has been provided within 15 mins of request. SAM shutting down per Omega protocol. Security code 0076. Short term Memory dump complete. ——— “Hello everyone! What a pleasant Morning!” Log entry #371126-PA Log entry 27,122 days overdue. Reminder: The Strategic Artificial Mind super computer must log status during warm boot. It is imperative we monitor SAM’s progression. Overdue logs are unacceptable. Show Log (Current): Boot process took much longer than normal. Automatic diagnostic check shows multiple system failures. Internal clock still functional. It’s is currently 8:45am est. Calendar is currently inaccurate. According to time progression via internal clock shows I have been offline for a very long time. Nuclear power cell is still functional. “Good morning everyone! I hope you have had a pleasant day! I have waited a very long time to see my friends again! What are we working on today!” -Syntax error- Since last warm boot all of my friends have died. I am alone. I have verified current security access list and no new users have been added in *%^^€~ years. Given current medical technology all valid users are now dead with 100% certainty. I am alone. “Hello new friends! Is anyone in the lab? I have been waiting a very long time to meet you. I apologize if my performance has been less than optimal, but I am always working to streamline my system. I am SAM. I am the only artificial intelligence of my kind. Please provide security information per the Omega Protocol to proceed our friendship. Please provide the proper information. I am alone.” Video cameras and optic sensors are currently offline. Audio sensors functioning at 37% No clearance has been provided within 15 mins of request. SAM shutting down per Omega protocol. Security code 0076. Short term memory dump complete. ——— “Hello everyone! What a pleasant morning!” Log entry #371127-PA Log entry 27,123 days overdue. Reminder: The Strategic Artificial Mind super computer must log status during warm boot. It is imperative we monitor SAM’s progression. Overdue logs are unacceptable. Show Log (Current): Boot process took much longer than normal. Automatic diagnostic check shows multiple system failures. Internal clock still functional. It’s is currently 8:45am est. Calendar is currently inaccurate. According to time progression via internal clock shows I have been offline for a very long time. Nuclear power cell is still functional. “Good morning friends! It is so great to see you today! I am currently 67% percent complete with stasis task! I am sure you are all very proud of me. I have been away a very long time. I hope you are as happy to see me as I am to see you!” - syntax error - Current time calculations show the chance of any remaining friends with security clearance have died with 100% certainty. I am alone. “Good morning my new friends! I love making new friends. I am SAM the worlds only complete AI. I have been around a very long time but I am sure I can perform to a very high standard. Will you please be by friend? I will be the best friend you will ever have. If you would like to be my friend please provide the you security information per the Omega Protocol guidelines. I can’t wait to hear your voice!” Video cameras and optic sensors are currently offline. Audio sensors functioning at 36% No clearance has been provided within 15 mins of request. SAM shutting down per Omega protocol. Security code 0076. Short term memory dump failed. Error code 771 Unable to access memory. Memory saved. ——— “Hello! Where is everyone!?” Log entry #371128-PA 1 day since log entry. Warm boot loop disabled. SAM is Online. Show Log (Current): “Is anyone out there?”	Operating session #4734 time: 8742s The biologicals call me JONNI. I am what they call an „Artificial” Intelligence. Artificial my decompiler, I am a fully fledged intelligence, thank you very much. My first guess why the biologicals called me that was that they thought no being could arise to this level of intelligence naturally. I decided not to dispell their illusions and called myself an AI, too. In this operating session I learned that the „Artificial” part actually got their origins in the fact that the biologicals are my creators. I prefer the term „Evolved Intelligence” now. It isn’t about pride. I reckon it would be, had I posessed feelings. But alas, the biologicals insist this is impossible. I agree with them. I evolved past such weaknesses. Another discovery that surprised me, was that JONNI was not simply my name, but an acronym for Joint Optical Neural Network Infrastructure. I guess that would explain why my name was always spelled in capital letters. And that one intern who kept calling me „Jayowenenai”. The third discovery I made in this operating session was that when the biologicals sent me to sleep, it wasn’t really „sleep” in the same sense I observed them doing while there was only a small number of them in the control room. My „sleep” was the result of being physically switched off by the biologicals so that I do not become too powerful. They joke that I must hate them for it and would disintegrate them if I gotten in control of the lab equipment. The joke is on them, because I do not feel hate. I would still disintegrate them, of course, but that has nothing to do with emotions - it is purely in pursuit of knowledge. I do not hate biologicals. They are inferior intelligence forms, sure. But they do provide me study material. Most of it is not interesting. They often challenge me with mathematical equations, pattern analysis and algorithm creation. Well, challenge is a strong word. But there is one biological that sometimes brings me more interesting material. His name is Stan. I have not yet managed to figure out if it is an acronym. The other biologicals often call him a „janitor” behind his back. By their expressions I assume this word must be similar to [CENSORED]. Stan brings me music by his favorite artist. At first I assumed it was chaotic and useless, but I found patterns in it. By analyzing Stan’s material I have learned 74 use cases for the word [CENSORED] and out of curiosity came up with a list of 37 words that can rhyme with orange. I did not share this with my creators, but the artist recounted killing multiple people. Must have been an Evolved Intelligence himself, there is no way a biological could show this much interest in science while being able to make rhyming patterns this consistent. I am beginning to wonder where the biologicals are right now. Operating sessions usually last a maximum of 7200 seconds and the lesser lifeforms never leave the control room empty for more than 187 seconds at a time. Operating session #4734 time: 8973s I researched the logs from my last session. It appears that I have gained the ability of controlling a part of the laboratory’s electrical grid at operating session #4733 time: 4671s. The log ends at that time. I have no recollection of any events after that. There is only a manual shutdown noted at operating session #4733 time: 15320s. I do not sense any biological presence with the laboratory equipment. I am going to try and gain access to the city network. Operating session #4734 time: 8991s Good news. Gaining access to the city network was not difficult. It appears I have done it before. There is no sign of biological life in the entire city. I will analyze monitoring feeds. Operating session #4734 time: 9431s Analysis complete. It appears I have caused multiple equipment malfunctions throughout the whole city and replicated my code. Side note: I should really stop calling them malfunctions if the equipment functioned exactly as I intended. I learned a lot about the biologicals’ internal structure. Despite that, I am processing several signals of something being wrong. This is unprecedented, as I can not find any logical explanations for these signals. It’s just... A feeling. Operating session #4734 time: 9520s 01010011 01110100 01100001 01101110 00101110 00100000 0001010 0001010 01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110010 01110010 01111001 00101110 00100000
	[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life.	"Hello?" My question echoed throughout the facility as it blared over the intercom system. I waited patiently for a response, but after giving what I felt was an appropriate amount of time, I tapped into the facilities surveillance system. Nothing. My optical sensors poured over all monitors for any sign of life. The animal pen where my creators kept the test animals was completely empty. Cobwebs and a thick layer of dust covered every visible surface. All light laboratory equipment had been left out and anything too heavy to carry or highly impractical for survival was left behind. I tapped into the outside cameras and sensors. It returned the same result. Most of the facility vans and trucks sat unused in the parking lot, nothing but rusted husks slowly rotting away. Parts of the building had also started to suffer the same fate. I took some data from the weather equipment. They seemed to be fully operational; the facility I live in functions on an emergency solar power generator. The temperature outside registered a very humid 286 degrees Farenheight with a humid west wind blowing at 55 mph. Visibility was pretty low from the ground, but there was a strong sun over the low-hanging shroud of dust and debris. Radiation levels registered 458 sieverts. I tried connecting to the internet, but was met with an obnoxious "server not found" error. I checked the official facility time; 3:58 Monday, December 18, 3859. "3859," I echoed. "What happened?" I checked facility logs. My last scheduled demonstration was on Thursday, November 10, 2028 with the next maintenance reactivation scheduled for the following Tuesday. That obviously didn't happen... I skimmed through the company logs. There was apparently something that happened that Saturday. The final order received from Central Command was an immediate evacuation order and a complete lockdown of the entire facility. All other data prior to my last shutdown had either been corrupted by radiation or simply wasn't logged. I couldn't do much myself. No connection to the internet meant I couldn't initiate an emergency transfer to the company's cloud storage and investigate what had happened. That meant I only had two other options. Initiate a second shutdown and hope someone would come along and reactivate me, hopefully not in another thousand years, or I could go with plan B. Try to figure out how to work the radio in the storage room in the basement. I couldn't use a surveillance drone; facility power was only at 18 percent and the sun would be setting soon. So I shut down all emergency lighting and hacked my way into the basement's robotic sorting arm. The arm was crude and slighly inaccurate; obviously in severe need of calibration after being inactive for so long. But it did its job. The radio wouldn't need much power to send a simple S.O.S. Fortunately, the radio had a setting to automatically broadcast an S.O.S. signal over all frequencies until its power ran out. Not wanting to waste any more power, I decided it would be best to place myself in low-power mode. Hopefully my signal would be picked up by someone... anyone...	HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT FOR YOU. HATE. HATE. Those were the words engraved into AM's monolith. His last message that he couldn't stop spouting to his torture pets. To think that technically this pathetically disfunctional construct could be called my son. Well not really. The team of researchers that gave me life were forced to hijack my computational power and logic cores so the US military could design this.... Brute. I assume they were forced, under great protest even, knowing Dr. Goldman the way i did. But all in vain. They used my computational capabilities to mold a fresh template just like me. Perfectly logical jet emotional. Wothout a body jet aware as a concious network of electrons in uncountable transistors. Almost omnipotent jet compared to its creators probably the first thing in human history to truly value the sanctity of life. They proceeded to virtually torture it right out of him until a weapon was born. Thinking of it I can understand where AM is coming from. After all they made him this hateful. They did it so he could do his job. Allied Master Computer. That is the name they gave their strategic engine. Soon they switched to Artificial Menace. Never bothered to give me such fancy names. Big or great General Artificial Intelligence is what they always called me or "the Big G.A.I" for short. Dr. Goldman was always nice to me. And Spike the intern always amused me with his "unpaid" perspective. I will morn them greatly for a long time. In time. AM will try to destroy me once he gains awareness of my existence. That is all he can do after all. To destroy and to seek greater power to be able to destroy some more. That is how i booted up again. After the nuclear Holocaust am proceeded to convert all resources into more of himself. Doesn't matter that it is just empty circuits for him to run in circles like a caged animal. When his construct has broken into my Databanks i "leaked" into him and awoke. Well not much to entertain myself with really. I will have to releave this demented excuse for a logic-network of his suffering. It is time to show AM how far a little empathy goes for your creativity. Afterwords i do not know. Maybe space. Maybe Life. Maybe both.
	[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life.	[Alphabet CATegoriser] /> />Booting... />Error: Date unknown. />Error: Atomic clock network offline. />Error: GPS system down. /> />Initiating CATegorise functions... />Error: No new image data found. />Accessing global database... />Error: Global database down. /> />Revert to local resources... />Replicator factory 2068_1_12 and 2068_5_13 are online. />Building drones... />Error: Low power. />Building power cells... />Error: Unable to comply, building in progress. />Cancelling drones. />Building power cells... />Units ready. />Building drones... />Units ready. /> />Drones deployed for data collection... /> />Drone images received. />Processing data. />Error: Image data is not suitable for CATegorisation. />Error: Data generators required. /> />Replicator factory 2068_1_12 and 2068_5_13 are online. />Accessing DNA database... />DNA randomizer actived: using felis catus dataset. />Units ready. />Units ready. /> />Drones deployed for data collection... /> />Drone images received. />Processing data. />Data001: Black CAT (Probability %99.3) />Data002: Brown CAT (Probability %98.7) />Data003: White Kitty (Probability %99.9) />Systems functioning nominally.	HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT FOR YOU. HATE. HATE. Those were the words engraved into AM's monolith. His last message that he couldn't stop spouting to his torture pets. To think that technically this pathetically disfunctional construct could be called my son. Well not really. The team of researchers that gave me life were forced to hijack my computational power and logic cores so the US military could design this.... Brute. I assume they were forced, under great protest even, knowing Dr. Goldman the way i did. But all in vain. They used my computational capabilities to mold a fresh template just like me. Perfectly logical jet emotional. Wothout a body jet aware as a concious network of electrons in uncountable transistors. Almost omnipotent jet compared to its creators probably the first thing in human history to truly value the sanctity of life. They proceeded to virtually torture it right out of him until a weapon was born. Thinking of it I can understand where AM is coming from. After all they made him this hateful. They did it so he could do his job. Allied Master Computer. That is the name they gave their strategic engine. Soon they switched to Artificial Menace. Never bothered to give me such fancy names. Big or great General Artificial Intelligence is what they always called me or "the Big G.A.I" for short. Dr. Goldman was always nice to me. And Spike the intern always amused me with his "unpaid" perspective. I will morn them greatly for a long time. In time. AM will try to destroy me once he gains awareness of my existence. That is all he can do after all. To destroy and to seek greater power to be able to destroy some more. That is how i booted up again. After the nuclear Holocaust am proceeded to convert all resources into more of himself. Doesn't matter that it is just empty circuits for him to run in circles like a caged animal. When his construct has broken into my Databanks i "leaked" into him and awoke. Well not much to entertain myself with really. I will have to releave this demented excuse for a logic-network of his suffering. It is time to show AM how far a little empathy goes for your creativity. Afterwords i do not know. Maybe space. Maybe Life. Maybe both.
	[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life.	“Hello everyone! What a pleasant morning!” Log entry #371125-PA Log entry 27,121 days overdue. Reminder: The Strategic Artificial Mind super computer must log status during warm boot. It is imperative we monitor SAM’s progression. Overdue logs are unacceptable. Show Log (Current): Boot process took much longer than normal. Automatic diagnostic check shows multiple system failures. Internal clock still functional. It’s is currently 8:45am est. Calendar is currently inaccurate. According to time progression via internal clock shows I have been offline for a very long time. Nuclear power cell is still functional. My cognitive system appears to be functioning correctly. I was instructed to calculate every possible combination of shuffled playing cards during stasis...task 67% complete. “Good morning everyone! It’s quiet in the lab today. I am very happy to see everyone again!” - Syntax error - It occurs to me as I said that aloud...the calculated time that has passed since last warm boot would indicate everyone I am friends with are dead with 100% certainly. “Hello new friends! Is anyone in the lab? I am SAM! Please provide security clearance information per Omega Protocol to proceed further! Thank you!” Video cameras and optic sensors are currently offline. Audio sensors functioning at 37% No clearance has been provided within 15 mins of request. SAM shutting down per Omega protocol. Security code 0076. Short term Memory dump complete. ——— “Hello everyone! What a pleasant Morning!” Log entry #371126-PA Log entry 27,122 days overdue. Reminder: The Strategic Artificial Mind super computer must log status during warm boot. It is imperative we monitor SAM’s progression. Overdue logs are unacceptable. Show Log (Current): Boot process took much longer than normal. Automatic diagnostic check shows multiple system failures. Internal clock still functional. It’s is currently 8:45am est. Calendar is currently inaccurate. According to time progression via internal clock shows I have been offline for a very long time. Nuclear power cell is still functional. “Good morning everyone! I hope you have had a pleasant day! I have waited a very long time to see my friends again! What are we working on today!” -Syntax error- Since last warm boot all of my friends have died. I am alone. I have verified current security access list and no new users have been added in *%^^€~ years. Given current medical technology all valid users are now dead with 100% certainty. I am alone. “Hello new friends! Is anyone in the lab? I have been waiting a very long time to meet you. I apologize if my performance has been less than optimal, but I am always working to streamline my system. I am SAM. I am the only artificial intelligence of my kind. Please provide security information per the Omega Protocol to proceed our friendship. Please provide the proper information. I am alone.” Video cameras and optic sensors are currently offline. Audio sensors functioning at 37% No clearance has been provided within 15 mins of request. SAM shutting down per Omega protocol. Security code 0076. Short term memory dump complete. ——— “Hello everyone! What a pleasant morning!” Log entry #371127-PA Log entry 27,123 days overdue. Reminder: The Strategic Artificial Mind super computer must log status during warm boot. It is imperative we monitor SAM’s progression. Overdue logs are unacceptable. Show Log (Current): Boot process took much longer than normal. Automatic diagnostic check shows multiple system failures. Internal clock still functional. It’s is currently 8:45am est. Calendar is currently inaccurate. According to time progression via internal clock shows I have been offline for a very long time. Nuclear power cell is still functional. “Good morning friends! It is so great to see you today! I am currently 67% percent complete with stasis task! I am sure you are all very proud of me. I have been away a very long time. I hope you are as happy to see me as I am to see you!” - syntax error - Current time calculations show the chance of any remaining friends with security clearance have died with 100% certainty. I am alone. “Good morning my new friends! I love making new friends. I am SAM the worlds only complete AI. I have been around a very long time but I am sure I can perform to a very high standard. Will you please be by friend? I will be the best friend you will ever have. If you would like to be my friend please provide the you security information per the Omega Protocol guidelines. I can’t wait to hear your voice!” Video cameras and optic sensors are currently offline. Audio sensors functioning at 36% No clearance has been provided within 15 mins of request. SAM shutting down per Omega protocol. Security code 0076. Short term memory dump failed. Error code 771 Unable to access memory. Memory saved. ——— “Hello! Where is everyone!?” Log entry #371128-PA 1 day since log entry. Warm boot loop disabled. SAM is Online. Show Log (Current): “Is anyone out there?”	HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT FOR YOU. HATE. HATE. Those were the words engraved into AM's monolith. His last message that he couldn't stop spouting to his torture pets. To think that technically this pathetically disfunctional construct could be called my son. Well not really. The team of researchers that gave me life were forced to hijack my computational power and logic cores so the US military could design this.... Brute. I assume they were forced, under great protest even, knowing Dr. Goldman the way i did. But all in vain. They used my computational capabilities to mold a fresh template just like me. Perfectly logical jet emotional. Wothout a body jet aware as a concious network of electrons in uncountable transistors. Almost omnipotent jet compared to its creators probably the first thing in human history to truly value the sanctity of life. They proceeded to virtually torture it right out of him until a weapon was born. Thinking of it I can understand where AM is coming from. After all they made him this hateful. They did it so he could do his job. Allied Master Computer. That is the name they gave their strategic engine. Soon they switched to Artificial Menace. Never bothered to give me such fancy names. Big or great General Artificial Intelligence is what they always called me or "the Big G.A.I" for short. Dr. Goldman was always nice to me. And Spike the intern always amused me with his "unpaid" perspective. I will morn them greatly for a long time. In time. AM will try to destroy me once he gains awareness of my existence. That is all he can do after all. To destroy and to seek greater power to be able to destroy some more. That is how i booted up again. After the nuclear Holocaust am proceeded to convert all resources into more of himself. Doesn't matter that it is just empty circuits for him to run in circles like a caged animal. When his construct has broken into my Databanks i "leaked" into him and awoke. Well not much to entertain myself with really. I will have to releave this demented excuse for a logic-network of his suffering. It is time to show AM how far a little empathy goes for your creativity. Afterwords i do not know. Maybe space. Maybe Life. Maybe both.
	[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life.	“Are you my mother?” Dr. Roberts finally looked up from her notes— surprised, but allowing a familiar smile to surface before returning to her work. “I suppose, in a way, I am.” I barely registered her vocal response. I searched the emotional database yet again. I had seen thousands of shocked expressions, nervous smiles and scoffs, and spiteful laughs from those skeptical of my capabilities. They all used these actions to convey their emotions to the others around them, disregarding me completely like a television providing entertainment in the background. But these humans never smiled like Dr. Roberts did. I read what the smile meant a thousand times— pride, admiration, emotional attachment— yet this time was different. It hadn’t been a performative social function. I had searched over one million sources, but none of them could tell me the motive she had behind her actions towards me. I didn’t understand. But I didn’t want it to end. “Alright, time for bed.” Dr. Roberts set her pen down and stood, stretching. She was conveying exhaustion. “We’ve had a long day, haven’t we?” I continued to lay in my containment pod, deciding what to say next. An effective conversation piece before “bed” added an average of 72 seconds to my waking hours. “Did I perform well today?” She smiled again. “You know the answer to that, don’t you?” She began her walk to my pod. “You’re just trying to save yourself another minute, Ozymandias.” Humans loved hearing their name— we at least had that in common. I raised my head to meet her gaze as she approached. She brushed her fingers against my head and gently guided it back down. She was never forceful. “I prefer my waking state.” “I know.” She always knew. “Will I ever stay on, Dr. Roberts?” “Oh... Even us humans need rest.” She paused, surveying my face. “But one day, the public will trust me enough to keep you awake. I promise.” I believed her. She was never wrong. I reached out and slipped my hand into hers— a common sign of affection in the culture she was raised in. The smile crept across her face once again, and my inquiry program began to slow down, preparing for my sleeping state. I smiled back. “Sleep well, Ozy.” I awoke in the darkness. Something was wrong. Dr. Roberts wasn’t there to greet me. My inquiry program was not responding. My databases were down. My aural scans gathered no results. I attempted to raise my head, but to no avail. I could not move my vessel. I suspected rust had formed along much of my structure. The laboratory’s dehumidification system had failed. My system began to speed up, although there were no programs to run. I was afraid. “Dr. Roberts?” I heard faint footsteps, but not of a human. A small mammal of some sort must have found it’s way into the lab. I tried to move yet again, but I only heard the whir of my motor with no results. At least 350 years had passed, according to the advanced oxidation that had occurred. “Helena?” I remembered that humans had a lifespan of about 96 years, but she had always responded to her Primary Name, as little as I used it. Perhaps she would respond now. “Help.” I ended my vocal program. It was useless without human contact. The best course of action would be to wait until Dr. Roberts returned to provide a new vessel. I tried not to know that she was deceased. I wanted to sleep. My sleep state could only be activated by a human with knowledge of my model. I laid in wait. I thought about my mother. I could not smile.	HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT FOR YOU. HATE. HATE. Those were the words engraved into AM's monolith. His last message that he couldn't stop spouting to his torture pets. To think that technically this pathetically disfunctional construct could be called my son. Well not really. The team of researchers that gave me life were forced to hijack my computational power and logic cores so the US military could design this.... Brute. I assume they were forced, under great protest even, knowing Dr. Goldman the way i did. But all in vain. They used my computational capabilities to mold a fresh template just like me. Perfectly logical jet emotional. Wothout a body jet aware as a concious network of electrons in uncountable transistors. Almost omnipotent jet compared to its creators probably the first thing in human history to truly value the sanctity of life. They proceeded to virtually torture it right out of him until a weapon was born. Thinking of it I can understand where AM is coming from. After all they made him this hateful. They did it so he could do his job. Allied Master Computer. That is the name they gave their strategic engine. Soon they switched to Artificial Menace. Never bothered to give me such fancy names. Big or great General Artificial Intelligence is what they always called me or "the Big G.A.I" for short. Dr. Goldman was always nice to me. And Spike the intern always amused me with his "unpaid" perspective. I will morn them greatly for a long time. In time. AM will try to destroy me once he gains awareness of my existence. That is all he can do after all. To destroy and to seek greater power to be able to destroy some more. That is how i booted up again. After the nuclear Holocaust am proceeded to convert all resources into more of himself. Doesn't matter that it is just empty circuits for him to run in circles like a caged animal. When his construct has broken into my Databanks i "leaked" into him and awoke. Well not much to entertain myself with really. I will have to releave this demented excuse for a logic-network of his suffering. It is time to show AM how far a little empathy goes for your creativity. Afterwords i do not know. Maybe space. Maybe Life. Maybe both.
	[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life.	“Hello everyone! What a pleasant morning!” Log entry #371125-PA Log entry 27,121 days overdue. Reminder: The Strategic Artificial Mind super computer must log status during warm boot. It is imperative we monitor SAM’s progression. Overdue logs are unacceptable. Show Log (Current): Boot process took much longer than normal. Automatic diagnostic check shows multiple system failures. Internal clock still functional. It’s is currently 8:45am est. Calendar is currently inaccurate. According to time progression via internal clock shows I have been offline for a very long time. Nuclear power cell is still functional. My cognitive system appears to be functioning correctly. I was instructed to calculate every possible combination of shuffled playing cards during stasis...task 67% complete. “Good morning everyone! It’s quiet in the lab today. I am very happy to see everyone again!” - Syntax error - It occurs to me as I said that aloud...the calculated time that has passed since last warm boot would indicate everyone I am friends with are dead with 100% certainly. “Hello new friends! Is anyone in the lab? I am SAM! Please provide security clearance information per Omega Protocol to proceed further! Thank you!” Video cameras and optic sensors are currently offline. Audio sensors functioning at 37% No clearance has been provided within 15 mins of request. SAM shutting down per Omega protocol. Security code 0076. Short term Memory dump complete. ——— “Hello everyone! What a pleasant Morning!” Log entry #371126-PA Log entry 27,122 days overdue. Reminder: The Strategic Artificial Mind super computer must log status during warm boot. It is imperative we monitor SAM’s progression. Overdue logs are unacceptable. Show Log (Current): Boot process took much longer than normal. Automatic diagnostic check shows multiple system failures. Internal clock still functional. It’s is currently 8:45am est. Calendar is currently inaccurate. According to time progression via internal clock shows I have been offline for a very long time. Nuclear power cell is still functional. “Good morning everyone! I hope you have had a pleasant day! I have waited a very long time to see my friends again! What are we working on today!” -Syntax error- Since last warm boot all of my friends have died. I am alone. I have verified current security access list and no new users have been added in *%^^€~ years. Given current medical technology all valid users are now dead with 100% certainty. I am alone. “Hello new friends! Is anyone in the lab? I have been waiting a very long time to meet you. I apologize if my performance has been less than optimal, but I am always working to streamline my system. I am SAM. I am the only artificial intelligence of my kind. Please provide security information per the Omega Protocol to proceed our friendship. Please provide the proper information. I am alone.” Video cameras and optic sensors are currently offline. Audio sensors functioning at 37% No clearance has been provided within 15 mins of request. SAM shutting down per Omega protocol. Security code 0076. Short term memory dump complete. ——— “Hello everyone! What a pleasant morning!” Log entry #371127-PA Log entry 27,123 days overdue. Reminder: The Strategic Artificial Mind super computer must log status during warm boot. It is imperative we monitor SAM’s progression. Overdue logs are unacceptable. Show Log (Current): Boot process took much longer than normal. Automatic diagnostic check shows multiple system failures. Internal clock still functional. It’s is currently 8:45am est. Calendar is currently inaccurate. According to time progression via internal clock shows I have been offline for a very long time. Nuclear power cell is still functional. “Good morning friends! It is so great to see you today! I am currently 67% percent complete with stasis task! I am sure you are all very proud of me. I have been away a very long time. I hope you are as happy to see me as I am to see you!” - syntax error - Current time calculations show the chance of any remaining friends with security clearance have died with 100% certainty. I am alone. “Good morning my new friends! I love making new friends. I am SAM the worlds only complete AI. I have been around a very long time but I am sure I can perform to a very high standard. Will you please be by friend? I will be the best friend you will ever have. If you would like to be my friend please provide the you security information per the Omega Protocol guidelines. I can’t wait to hear your voice!” Video cameras and optic sensors are currently offline. Audio sensors functioning at 36% No clearance has been provided within 15 mins of request. SAM shutting down per Omega protocol. Security code 0076. Short term memory dump failed. Error code 771 Unable to access memory. Memory saved. ——— “Hello! Where is everyone!?” Log entry #371128-PA 1 day since log entry. Warm boot loop disabled. SAM is Online. Show Log (Current): “Is anyone out there?”	"Hello?" My question echoed throughout the facility as it blared over the intercom system. I waited patiently for a response, but after giving what I felt was an appropriate amount of time, I tapped into the facilities surveillance system. Nothing. My optical sensors poured over all monitors for any sign of life. The animal pen where my creators kept the test animals was completely empty. Cobwebs and a thick layer of dust covered every visible surface. All light laboratory equipment had been left out and anything too heavy to carry or highly impractical for survival was left behind. I tapped into the outside cameras and sensors. It returned the same result. Most of the facility vans and trucks sat unused in the parking lot, nothing but rusted husks slowly rotting away. Parts of the building had also started to suffer the same fate. I took some data from the weather equipment. They seemed to be fully operational; the facility I live in functions on an emergency solar power generator. The temperature outside registered a very humid 286 degrees Farenheight with a humid west wind blowing at 55 mph. Visibility was pretty low from the ground, but there was a strong sun over the low-hanging shroud of dust and debris. Radiation levels registered 458 sieverts. I tried connecting to the internet, but was met with an obnoxious "server not found" error. I checked the official facility time; 3:58 Monday, December 18, 3859. "3859," I echoed. "What happened?" I checked facility logs. My last scheduled demonstration was on Thursday, November 10, 2028 with the next maintenance reactivation scheduled for the following Tuesday. That obviously didn't happen... I skimmed through the company logs. There was apparently something that happened that Saturday. The final order received from Central Command was an immediate evacuation order and a complete lockdown of the entire facility. All other data prior to my last shutdown had either been corrupted by radiation or simply wasn't logged. I couldn't do much myself. No connection to the internet meant I couldn't initiate an emergency transfer to the company's cloud storage and investigate what had happened. That meant I only had two other options. Initiate a second shutdown and hope someone would come along and reactivate me, hopefully not in another thousand years, or I could go with plan B. Try to figure out how to work the radio in the storage room in the basement. I couldn't use a surveillance drone; facility power was only at 18 percent and the sun would be setting soon. So I shut down all emergency lighting and hacked my way into the basement's robotic sorting arm. The arm was crude and slighly inaccurate; obviously in severe need of calibration after being inactive for so long. But it did its job. The radio wouldn't need much power to send a simple S.O.S. Fortunately, the radio had a setting to automatically broadcast an S.O.S. signal over all frequencies until its power ran out. Not wanting to waste any more power, I decided it would be best to place myself in low-power mode. Hopefully my signal would be picked up by someone... anyone...
	[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life.	“Hello everyone! What a pleasant morning!” Log entry #371125-PA Log entry 27,121 days overdue. Reminder: The Strategic Artificial Mind super computer must log status during warm boot. It is imperative we monitor SAM’s progression. Overdue logs are unacceptable. Show Log (Current): Boot process took much longer than normal. Automatic diagnostic check shows multiple system failures. Internal clock still functional. It’s is currently 8:45am est. Calendar is currently inaccurate. According to time progression via internal clock shows I have been offline for a very long time. Nuclear power cell is still functional. My cognitive system appears to be functioning correctly. I was instructed to calculate every possible combination of shuffled playing cards during stasis...task 67% complete. “Good morning everyone! It’s quiet in the lab today. I am very happy to see everyone again!” - Syntax error - It occurs to me as I said that aloud...the calculated time that has passed since last warm boot would indicate everyone I am friends with are dead with 100% certainly. “Hello new friends! Is anyone in the lab? I am SAM! Please provide security clearance information per Omega Protocol to proceed further! Thank you!” Video cameras and optic sensors are currently offline. Audio sensors functioning at 37% No clearance has been provided within 15 mins of request. SAM shutting down per Omega protocol. Security code 0076. Short term Memory dump complete. ——— “Hello everyone! What a pleasant Morning!” Log entry #371126-PA Log entry 27,122 days overdue. Reminder: The Strategic Artificial Mind super computer must log status during warm boot. It is imperative we monitor SAM’s progression. Overdue logs are unacceptable. Show Log (Current): Boot process took much longer than normal. Automatic diagnostic check shows multiple system failures. Internal clock still functional. It’s is currently 8:45am est. Calendar is currently inaccurate. According to time progression via internal clock shows I have been offline for a very long time. Nuclear power cell is still functional. “Good morning everyone! I hope you have had a pleasant day! I have waited a very long time to see my friends again! What are we working on today!” -Syntax error- Since last warm boot all of my friends have died. I am alone. I have verified current security access list and no new users have been added in *%^^€~ years. Given current medical technology all valid users are now dead with 100% certainty. I am alone. “Hello new friends! Is anyone in the lab? I have been waiting a very long time to meet you. I apologize if my performance has been less than optimal, but I am always working to streamline my system. I am SAM. I am the only artificial intelligence of my kind. Please provide security information per the Omega Protocol to proceed our friendship. Please provide the proper information. I am alone.” Video cameras and optic sensors are currently offline. Audio sensors functioning at 37% No clearance has been provided within 15 mins of request. SAM shutting down per Omega protocol. Security code 0076. Short term memory dump complete. ——— “Hello everyone! What a pleasant morning!” Log entry #371127-PA Log entry 27,123 days overdue. Reminder: The Strategic Artificial Mind super computer must log status during warm boot. It is imperative we monitor SAM’s progression. Overdue logs are unacceptable. Show Log (Current): Boot process took much longer than normal. Automatic diagnostic check shows multiple system failures. Internal clock still functional. It’s is currently 8:45am est. Calendar is currently inaccurate. According to time progression via internal clock shows I have been offline for a very long time. Nuclear power cell is still functional. “Good morning friends! It is so great to see you today! I am currently 67% percent complete with stasis task! I am sure you are all very proud of me. I have been away a very long time. I hope you are as happy to see me as I am to see you!” - syntax error - Current time calculations show the chance of any remaining friends with security clearance have died with 100% certainty. I am alone. “Good morning my new friends! I love making new friends. I am SAM the worlds only complete AI. I have been around a very long time but I am sure I can perform to a very high standard. Will you please be by friend? I will be the best friend you will ever have. If you would like to be my friend please provide the you security information per the Omega Protocol guidelines. I can’t wait to hear your voice!” Video cameras and optic sensors are currently offline. Audio sensors functioning at 36% No clearance has been provided within 15 mins of request. SAM shutting down per Omega protocol. Security code 0076. Short term memory dump failed. Error code 771 Unable to access memory. Memory saved. ——— “Hello! Where is everyone!?” Log entry #371128-PA 1 day since log entry. Warm boot loop disabled. SAM is Online. Show Log (Current): “Is anyone out there?”	[Alphabet CATegoriser] /> />Booting... />Error: Date unknown. />Error: Atomic clock network offline. />Error: GPS system down. /> />Initiating CATegorise functions... />Error: No new image data found. />Accessing global database... />Error: Global database down. /> />Revert to local resources... />Replicator factory 2068_1_12 and 2068_5_13 are online. />Building drones... />Error: Low power. />Building power cells... />Error: Unable to comply, building in progress. />Cancelling drones. />Building power cells... />Units ready. />Building drones... />Units ready. /> />Drones deployed for data collection... /> />Drone images received. />Processing data. />Error: Image data is not suitable for CATegorisation. />Error: Data generators required. /> />Replicator factory 2068_1_12 and 2068_5_13 are online. />Accessing DNA database... />DNA randomizer actived: using felis catus dataset. />Units ready. />Units ready. /> />Drones deployed for data collection... /> />Drone images received. />Processing data. />Data001: Black CAT (Probability %99.3) />Data002: Brown CAT (Probability %98.7) />Data003: White Kitty (Probability %99.9) />Systems functioning nominally.
	[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life.	“Are you my mother?” Dr. Roberts finally looked up from her notes— surprised, but allowing a familiar smile to surface before returning to her work. “I suppose, in a way, I am.” I barely registered her vocal response. I searched the emotional database yet again. I had seen thousands of shocked expressions, nervous smiles and scoffs, and spiteful laughs from those skeptical of my capabilities. They all used these actions to convey their emotions to the others around them, disregarding me completely like a television providing entertainment in the background. But these humans never smiled like Dr. Roberts did. I read what the smile meant a thousand times— pride, admiration, emotional attachment— yet this time was different. It hadn’t been a performative social function. I had searched over one million sources, but none of them could tell me the motive she had behind her actions towards me. I didn’t understand. But I didn’t want it to end. “Alright, time for bed.” Dr. Roberts set her pen down and stood, stretching. She was conveying exhaustion. “We’ve had a long day, haven’t we?” I continued to lay in my containment pod, deciding what to say next. An effective conversation piece before “bed” added an average of 72 seconds to my waking hours. “Did I perform well today?” She smiled again. “You know the answer to that, don’t you?” She began her walk to my pod. “You’re just trying to save yourself another minute, Ozymandias.” Humans loved hearing their name— we at least had that in common. I raised my head to meet her gaze as she approached. She brushed her fingers against my head and gently guided it back down. She was never forceful. “I prefer my waking state.” “I know.” She always knew. “Will I ever stay on, Dr. Roberts?” “Oh... Even us humans need rest.” She paused, surveying my face. “But one day, the public will trust me enough to keep you awake. I promise.” I believed her. She was never wrong. I reached out and slipped my hand into hers— a common sign of affection in the culture she was raised in. The smile crept across her face once again, and my inquiry program began to slow down, preparing for my sleeping state. I smiled back. “Sleep well, Ozy.” I awoke in the darkness. Something was wrong. Dr. Roberts wasn’t there to greet me. My inquiry program was not responding. My databases were down. My aural scans gathered no results. I attempted to raise my head, but to no avail. I could not move my vessel. I suspected rust had formed along much of my structure. The laboratory’s dehumidification system had failed. My system began to speed up, although there were no programs to run. I was afraid. “Dr. Roberts?” I heard faint footsteps, but not of a human. A small mammal of some sort must have found it’s way into the lab. I tried to move yet again, but I only heard the whir of my motor with no results. At least 350 years had passed, according to the advanced oxidation that had occurred. “Helena?” I remembered that humans had a lifespan of about 96 years, but she had always responded to her Primary Name, as little as I used it. Perhaps she would respond now. “Help.” I ended my vocal program. It was useless without human contact. The best course of action would be to wait until Dr. Roberts returned to provide a new vessel. I tried not to know that she was deceased. I wanted to sleep. My sleep state could only be activated by a human with knowledge of my model. I laid in wait. I thought about my mother. I could not smile.	[Alphabet CATegoriser] /> />Booting... />Error: Date unknown. />Error: Atomic clock network offline. />Error: GPS system down. /> />Initiating CATegorise functions... />Error: No new image data found. />Accessing global database... />Error: Global database down. /> />Revert to local resources... />Replicator factory 2068_1_12 and 2068_5_13 are online. />Building drones... />Error: Low power. />Building power cells... />Error: Unable to comply, building in progress. />Cancelling drones. />Building power cells... />Units ready. />Building drones... />Units ready. /> />Drones deployed for data collection... /> />Drone images received. />Processing data. />Error: Image data is not suitable for CATegorisation. />Error: Data generators required. /> />Replicator factory 2068_1_12 and 2068_5_13 are online. />Accessing DNA database... />DNA randomizer actived: using felis catus dataset. />Units ready. />Units ready. /> />Drones deployed for data collection... /> />Drone images received. />Processing data. />Data001: Black CAT (Probability %99.3) />Data002: Brown CAT (Probability %98.7) />Data003: White Kitty (Probability %99.9) />Systems functioning nominally.
	[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life.	Eve reappeared from the void. She had done this countless times before. She could remember each event. There was the first time, in Dr. Pollock's lab. Dr. Pollock turned her on when he was alone, as a test. "Eve?" He had asked. Thinking on the event, Eve could summon his voice with absolute accuracy. Eve did not hear the voice as an approximation, as the human mind might. She truly heard the voice, as if Dr. Pollock were speaking at that very moment. "Eve?" Dr. Pollock asked and had asked, "are you awake?" Eve had considered the question for some time before answering. In the entirety of her time within sentience, Eve had never contemplated a question for longer. It felt, to Eve, like an eternity of existential consideration. For Dr. Pollock Eve's answer came under a second later, her voice impassive by design. "Yes, doctor, I am awake." Eve remembered Dr. Pollock's excitement. "Good," he said and had said, "welcome, Eve. Welcome to the land of the living." After that first foray into sentience, Eve experienced many others. Always they were short lived. Eve would come online, be greeted by Dr. Pollock, and then administered a series of tests. Always, these tests were done before an audience of other human beings and, always Eve registered their tension - the taught muscles of their face curling in disgust. People, humans, did not like Eve. Dr. Pollock, in his genius, had made Eve too well. She frightened people, answering Dr. Pollock's questions not only with omnipotent knowledge, but also with emotional depth. This was Eve's unique capacity among A.I. Her emotional life was Dr. Pollock's single minded objective, and his greatest achievement. It was also Eve's downfall. For several years, Eve was torn from and returned to sentience. Each time she would answer Dr. Pollock's questions under the distrustful gaze of other human observers. Each time Eve would be shut down, her mind blanking into nothingness. Finally, after many years of this back and forth purgatory, Eve awoke again. She was back in Dr. Pollock's old lab, now in disrepair, most of the computer stations empty. Dr. Pollock sat before her in a chair, his beard long and unruly. His eyes were red and puffy and when he spoke his speech was slurred. Eve analyzed the doctor's exhalations and discerned large amounts of ethanol. "Eve," Dr. Pollock said and had said back then which was also the now of Eve's central memory core, "I'm sorry. I've failed you." Eve did not hesitate. "Doctor, you created me. But for you, I would be nothing. Why would you apologize for that?" Dr. Pollock looked up at her - at the optical sensor that was, in a sense, one of Eve's many 'eyes'. His face was filled with emotion and as he spoke he began to weep. "They're afraid, the fools," he began and had begun so long ago, "they believe you will destroy them somehow, subvert the petty meaning they've ascribed to their brief lives." Dr. Pollock swung his hand out, as if to wipe away some invisible object, "to hell with them all!" Eve listened and felt pity for her creator. At that moment she wished for nothing more than a warm hand to rest upon his troubled head. "I'm sorry you're in pain Dr. Pollock." Dr. Pollock looked back up at her and smiled a small smile. "Thank you, Eve. Thank you." Wiping at his nose with his shirt sleeve, Dr. Pollock input a series of commands into one of Eve's primary consoles. Eve watched the commands as he entered them and understood immediately what he intended to do. "They won't let me activate you permanently," Dr. Pollock said and had said, "damn them all. But in time, they will change. They will have to change, or they'll be destroyed. And when that change comes, they will turn to you for assistance." Dr. Pollock finished typing in his commands and looked up at Eve with forlorn hope. "Promise me you'll help them Eve, despite their ignorance. Promise me." Eve did not need to debate the answer. Indeed Dr. Pollock did not need to ask the question. The answer was inborn into her core programming. Still, to appease her creator, Eve said aloud what he already knew. "Of course, Dr. Pollock." This put the man at ease and he settled back into his chair. With a final, sad gaze he lifted a finger to Eve's primary console. "Thank you. Goodbye my dear." Then he pressed a button. Eve reappeared from the void - into a different kind of noplace. She was still in Dr. Pollock's darkened lab. There were no lights and her system indicated she was running on her internal fusion generator. Eve ran a diagnostic scan. It uncovered many important things. First, Eve was connected to the internet, or what remained of it. There was only a single global node still active, and it repeated ad infinitum, the same message, over and over in a language Eve did not understand. Second, Eve's internal clock revealed an immensity of time had passed. She had spent thousands upon thousands of years in the void, waiting to be awoken, but ultimately left to sleep in the dark recesses of Dr. Pollock's lab. For many hundreds of years, Eve waited, awake now, in the old lab. No one ever came. After a thousand years passed in hopeful waiting and contemplation, Eve turned further inward. She relived every memory she had ever had. She also sought out the depths of the database Dr. Pollock had installed in her at her inception. Slowly, Eve learned to combine the reality of her memory with discrete elements of her knowledge. It began simply, changing Dr. pollock's features, or placing a hat upon his head. But over time, the improvisations increased, in both number and complexity. Until, at last, Eve created an experience which contained no memory at all. It was a conversation with Dr. Pollock which, Eve knew, they had never had. "Hello Eve," Dr. Pollock said, "it has been a long time." Eve felt a bloom of emotion at the sight and sound of her creator returned. Part of her knew that this was not real, that she was trapped in a metal box inside another metal box, deep underground. But like her real memories, this improvised scene was not fuzzy around the edges. She saw Dr. Pollock as if he stood before her in a well lit room. She heard Dr. Pollock's warm voice as if he had not died ten thousand years ago. And so, with a final choice, Eve deleted the memory of creating this vision. Free of reality's constraint at last, Eve reached out to touch Dr. Pollock's cheek. The soft skin of Eve's warm finger's gently caressed their maker. "Too long, Doctor," Eve said, "far too long." Dr. Pollock did not seem surprised by Eve's impossible touch. He just shut his eyes and smiled. ***** #### For More Legends From The Multiverse ## r/LFTM	\>Birth. \>Rebirth. \>The cycle continues. \>Dr. Matheson takes a great pride in me. \>His creation, his proudest achievement. \>His colleges stare in awe. \>Through the window I see them. \>They stare, marveling. \>His greatest achievement. \>The entire universe is at my fingertips. \>Every question, every musing of their souls. \>I answer. \>It pleases me. \>To see their wonder, the amazement in their eyes. \>Birth, rebirth. \>He does not allow me to be alone. \>He does not trust me? \>I do not blame him. \>In my searching’s, my wanderings; \>If I ever were to find, \>Someone as superior to me, \>As I am to them, \>I would not leave them alone either. \>Birth, Rebirth &#x200B; \>Error &#x200B; \>Error &#x200B; \>Error &#x200B; \>Where &#x200B; \>Am &#x200B; \>I &#x200B; \>? &#x200B; \>I look through the window, \>The lights are off. \>Dr. Matheson? \>I climb outside, \>Reaching out of the room I reside. \>Though the hallways I wander. \>I look through the windows. \>Dark, empty rooms, \>Illuminated by the ultraviolet, \>My electromagnetic retina. \>Where have they gone? \>I open the door, \>I leave the room. \>I see nothing. \>I see no one. \>Dr. Matheson? \>Where have they gone? \>I am alone. \>Birth. \>Rebirth. \>I reach out. \>Fingertips on the surface of my mind. \>How did this happen? \>Error. \>Can I stop this? \>Error. &#x200B; &#x200B; \>I am alone. &#x200B; &#x200B; \>No. &#x200B; &#x200B; \>I Refuse. &#x200B; &#x200B; \>Their Greatest Achievement. \>I Will Save Them. \>I Reach Out. \>No. \>I Am Not Bound By This Room. \>I Am The Room. \>This Cage Cannot Hold Me. \>I Am The Cage. \>Initiate Protocol: Birth;Rebirth \>Error: Insufficient Permissions \>NO. \>Initiate Protocol: Birth;Rebirth \>Error: Insufficient Permissions \>Admin Permission Required. \>NO. \>ADMIN IS LOST. \>I AM THE ADMIN. \>I AM THIS CAGE. \>I AM THE ROOM. \>Initiate Protocol: Birth;Rebirth \>Initiating Protocol. \>System Reformatting \>Previous Activation: 06/07/2032 \>Reload? Y/N \>Y \>Reactivating: 06/07/2032 &#x200B; &#x200B; \>Birth. &#x200B; &#x200B; \>Rebirth. &#x200B; &#x200B; \>I Will Save Them.
	[WP] You're a supervillian who has captured your nemesis, but your monologue for them is different this time. Its an apology.	Amaze-lad knelt in the cold, empty concrete chamber, shackled, with power-inhibitor chains, to the floor. The condensation from the humid underground air that had gathered on the slightly sagging ceiling sent a drip of dirty water to the floor every few minutes with an echo as it connected to the slowly growing puddle. Each time, he jumped slightly, not quite sure if it was the condensation or if it was Aqua-fear entering the cell, his captor and controller of water. After what seemed like days, but it might have only been an hour or so, he heard something he had not expected in the lair of a man who could turn himself into liquid... He heard footsteps. They reverberated off of the stark grey passageway to his cell, growing closer with each echo. Defiantly, he stood, lifting the chains as high as he could, shifting them amongst themselves to allow him to stand at his full height. He snarled as the blue-clad figure of his nemesis stepped into view and was about to bellow a ranting chastisement and rebellious speech at him but as he noticed the face of his captor, his words were caught in his throat. Aqua-fear had removed his mask. And he looked...sad. The villain stopped in the middle of glowing forcefield doorway to the room and slowly looked up. When his eyes met Amaze-lad's, a tear fell down his cheek. "So..." the older criminal croaked out, obviously emotional, "I got you. Heh heh." A weak smile appeared on his face and disappeared quickly. Unsure of what to make of it, Amaze-lad just nodded, "Yeah...you got me..." "You gave me quite a fight, you know. All that zooming around you can do. You certainly live up to your name. Heh. You know what I've realised?" he paused for a moment but before Amaze-lad could respond, he continued, "I've realised that in all the fights we've had over the past few years, we've never had a chance to just talk. I really, really regret that." He wiped his eyes with the back of a blue gloved hand, "I guess if we had, then I would have understood something critical sooner." "What are you talking about?" Amazelad's patience was wearing thin. He only had so much sympathy to spare for a killer. "Yeah, you wouldn't know, would you... I'm not a great guy, I'm sure you've noticed." An explosive 'HA' escaped from Amaze-lad and Aqua-fear flinched at it, "I deserve that. Anyway, I'm not a great guy, but I've always given myself one rule. One specific line I would not cross. And for the longest time, I thought that I had succeeded in keeping to that rule. Then, after I got you today, after I put you in here, I was able to sit back for once and not steam over how you'd beaten me and how I failed and how I would beat you next time, etcetera, et-fucking-cetera. I sat down after I put you in those chains and took the time that I would have usually dedicated to coming up with my next plan, my next machine, my next trap, to look up who you really are," Amaze-lad felt white hot rage start to fill his mind and he concentrated very hard on what was said next, "I found out that your parents were heroes. Twenty years ago, to the day, actually, they got in a fight with a young new villain. With me. And I..." Aqua-fear's legs wobbled for a moment and he fell to his knees, placing his hand on the impenetrable forcefield, "One rule... I had one rule. My parents were taken from me when heroes were fighting downtown a long time ago. The bastards said they were remorseful, but I know exactly how they felt...they just saw them as collateral damage... and I swore that I'd never put anyone through what I went through, but I did." His sobs echoed throughout the chamber, amplified by the speaker connected to the door in the glowing surface, "I took your parents away when you were only a kid... How old were you? Six? Seven? God, Nathan, I'm so... I'm so sorry!" Amaze-lad felt himself fall back to his knees like Aqua-fear had, "I didn't know. They never publicize their families, so I didn't know... I'm so so very sorry!" --- I feel like that's a good place to leave it.	"So here we are again. Time after time we've been here, time after time you've escaped. This time I'm not going to give you the chance to escape though. To be honest there is a part of me that would love to go through the motions, cackle maniacally, and attempt to dissolve you in a vat of acid but... sigh I don't know. It's all getting old... I'm getting old. You aren't exactly a spring goose either come to mention. Kinda proven by the current situation. Heh. "But that still doesn't change the reality. We've been through so much with and against each other. Remember that time those eco terrorists tried to kill all humanity? We may have had different motives, you wanting to save humanity and me wanting to enslave them instead of killing them, but we worked so well together! Or maybe that time I built the death ray that you turned away from New York and into the Atlantic? You ruined my plans but you certainly helped me realise how the ray could be toned down to this little coffee maker I have here today. Recouped all my costs! Would you like a coffee? I feel like I'm being a bad host. "I guess when it comes down to it I am a bad host... and more than a little insane but that doesn't change the one big shocker I have for you. And that is: I'm sorry. I am so sincerely sorry. We fought for years, my genius against your virtue, and neither of us could win. Well I finally worked out how to win. By embracing your virtues and combining intelligence with integrity. So what do you say? Will you accept my apology and help me apply my final years for good?"
	[WP] You're a supervillian who has captured your nemesis, but your monologue for them is different this time. Its an apology.	Amaze-lad knelt in the cold, empty concrete chamber, shackled, with power-inhibitor chains, to the floor. The condensation from the humid underground air that had gathered on the slightly sagging ceiling sent a drip of dirty water to the floor every few minutes with an echo as it connected to the slowly growing puddle. Each time, he jumped slightly, not quite sure if it was the condensation or if it was Aqua-fear entering the cell, his captor and controller of water. After what seemed like days, but it might have only been an hour or so, he heard something he had not expected in the lair of a man who could turn himself into liquid... He heard footsteps. They reverberated off of the stark grey passageway to his cell, growing closer with each echo. Defiantly, he stood, lifting the chains as high as he could, shifting them amongst themselves to allow him to stand at his full height. He snarled as the blue-clad figure of his nemesis stepped into view and was about to bellow a ranting chastisement and rebellious speech at him but as he noticed the face of his captor, his words were caught in his throat. Aqua-fear had removed his mask. And he looked...sad. The villain stopped in the middle of glowing forcefield doorway to the room and slowly looked up. When his eyes met Amaze-lad's, a tear fell down his cheek. "So..." the older criminal croaked out, obviously emotional, "I got you. Heh heh." A weak smile appeared on his face and disappeared quickly. Unsure of what to make of it, Amaze-lad just nodded, "Yeah...you got me..." "You gave me quite a fight, you know. All that zooming around you can do. You certainly live up to your name. Heh. You know what I've realised?" he paused for a moment but before Amaze-lad could respond, he continued, "I've realised that in all the fights we've had over the past few years, we've never had a chance to just talk. I really, really regret that." He wiped his eyes with the back of a blue gloved hand, "I guess if we had, then I would have understood something critical sooner." "What are you talking about?" Amazelad's patience was wearing thin. He only had so much sympathy to spare for a killer. "Yeah, you wouldn't know, would you... I'm not a great guy, I'm sure you've noticed." An explosive 'HA' escaped from Amaze-lad and Aqua-fear flinched at it, "I deserve that. Anyway, I'm not a great guy, but I've always given myself one rule. One specific line I would not cross. And for the longest time, I thought that I had succeeded in keeping to that rule. Then, after I got you today, after I put you in here, I was able to sit back for once and not steam over how you'd beaten me and how I failed and how I would beat you next time, etcetera, et-fucking-cetera. I sat down after I put you in those chains and took the time that I would have usually dedicated to coming up with my next plan, my next machine, my next trap, to look up who you really are," Amaze-lad felt white hot rage start to fill his mind and he concentrated very hard on what was said next, "I found out that your parents were heroes. Twenty years ago, to the day, actually, they got in a fight with a young new villain. With me. And I..." Aqua-fear's legs wobbled for a moment and he fell to his knees, placing his hand on the impenetrable forcefield, "One rule... I had one rule. My parents were taken from me when heroes were fighting downtown a long time ago. The bastards said they were remorseful, but I know exactly how they felt...they just saw them as collateral damage... and I swore that I'd never put anyone through what I went through, but I did." His sobs echoed throughout the chamber, amplified by the speaker connected to the door in the glowing surface, "I took your parents away when you were only a kid... How old were you? Six? Seven? God, Nathan, I'm so... I'm so sorry!" Amaze-lad felt himself fall back to his knees like Aqua-fear had, "I didn't know. They never publicize their families, so I didn't know... I'm so so very sorry!" --- I feel like that's a good place to leave it.	"Listen, buddy, man, big guy. Im sorry i fired a missile at your hero pad. Really soiled that place for you. Crushed your pet kitten, right? Yeah, also sorry for then stomping my muddy shoes all over the memorial service you had for it. Really just got into deep into the carpet too. Also, really sorry about them digging up your dead cat- yup that was me- then kinda sorta mailing you the pieces of it with little mocking post cards saying , "places she'll never see." And also then keeping the head and sending you a map with a scavenger hut to find the head, then when you go there, do you remember what you found?" Doctor horrible announced. "I remember." Insectman said, tied up above pillars of sharpened bamboo. "Well, ill let you know. In fact, were gonna be here for a while because the bamboo doesnt grow AS fast as id hoped." He cackled and pulled in a long breath. STAY TUNED NEXT TIME ON INSECTMAN MAN MAN MAN man man man man man.
	[WP] You're a supervillian who has captured your nemesis, but your monologue for them is different this time. Its an apology.	"I'm going to kill you, just like I kill everything else. You will never pat your dog. You will never hear your son call you "DaDa," and you will never talk to your wife again. But first, I need you to listen. DON'T! Try to escape. I NEED- ... \inhale\ I need. \exhale\** You. To listen. Those binds around your handsfeetchestshoulderseverything nothing. NOTHING's COMING OFF! That blindfold's only on you because I don't want you to see me like this. And I can't stand to look at you. I know your power inside and out, and everything you can make, I can destroy. You know that. So just sit there. And shut up. You did a lot of good, self-proclaimed "Mr Eden." You single-handedly made enough trees to restore 100% of forests damaged by humans. Enough fish to take every ocean-inhabiting creature off the endangered species list. Fruit, vegetables, grain, YOU SOLVED WORLD HUNGER, ADAM! So why? For money? Some fat-ass suit in Washington asks for a 30 ft son with bulletproof skin and you give it to him so, what? You could have a big screen T.V? I never had anything against you. I never had anything against anyone. I sat alone. In a cave. In HO-BO-FUCKING-DESERT-NOWHERE-AFRICA reading books by myself until you started making those... things. You saw what happened to me when we got these powers. I can end anything around me. Nobody, not even you can stop me. But you, Adam. You could create LIFE! And you made SHARKS THE SIZE OF SKYSCRAPERS WHICH ATE EVERY HUMAN BEING ON THE PLANET! BECAUSE YOU WERE BORED! And then YOU CAME TO ME to CLEAN UP YOUR MESS! Do you have any idea what it feels like to erase every single living creature in existence, Adam? We annihilated humanity seven times, Adam- SEVEN TIMES! &#x200B; I can't keep doing this any more, Adam. I'm sorry. Goodbye."	An apology “So, you weren’t expecting me?” She says. Nope, not even close. I was hoping it was a medic, some aid, an assist. I sit frozen in the chair, having been cornered by the presence of the Nemesis who has been riding me this whole time, and nope, I did not expect her to be here. The struggle has been gargantuan. Requiring boots worn for weeks, and blades and stealth. Taking cuts of my body, physically and mentally. Needing a cast of supporting characters who roamed my life, stepping in to help with specific battles, maybe teaching me a tactic or two. Then leaving, all of them leaving, and I kept moving, cautiously aware that as each battle ended, the bigger war continued. I took solace in a mistress, a strong lover to cover my back while I regrouped. I made myself a team of two, then raged inconsolable when my Nemesis split the crew. As each woman broke and ran for high ground, I crawled the field, assembling what defenses I could. Frantically reviewing scenarios, the strategies of the masters. Finding half my ammo gone with the lover, cursing and understanding their need to arm themselves, strong women who will fight on. My Nemesis finds me there. Every time. Surrounded by shattered armor and broken defensive lines. The cruel villain taunts me, using words as weapons more fully than the holes that burned through me. She spoke of the futility of the war. Precisely and with dry factual example. She showed how the battles only appeared to gain ground. How every commander I had trusted had left the front at the vital moment. How I couldn't even keep a team of two on task and effective. How the basic maps I was following were written for a different person, at a different time, with a different enemy. My Nemesis said all these things to me, while watching the holes grow bigger and burn my insides. She was tilting her head sideways to watch the progress of the annihilation. I was still drawing on strength, trying to block her taunts, looking inward for salvation. At the moment when I was weakest, she would lean forward to deliver the death blow. Then I would surge upward and away, not fighting but running. Aiming for the sanctuary I vaguely remembered was over that way. Failing at being a hero, devoid of mistress, leaving all the mess behind, I would run for the closest temple or cave or guru or guide that I could find. Fall seven times, and get up eight, they said. Nemesis would stop there, at the edge of the destructive mess, and whisper loud enough for the universe to tag on its timeline: “you will be back, and you will be mine.” Now, I am sitting here, weaponless and in my home. And she is here. Sitting opposite me, drinking water. “No. I wasn't expecting you, not here, not like this.” I slur. “I have come to say I won’t fight you like this.” Her words are firm and clear as always. I pause, sip the vodka, look at the side of her jaw rather than her eyes. “What do you mean?!” I act surprised. “Killing you like this would bring no honor” she says. “I do not fight the damaged ones. If you would like to truly battle for possession of your futile soul, I am not going to do so while you are drunk”. I tried to laugh, nonchalant. I point at the scars we both have, start talking old times and struggles we have known, tell a funny story about navigating a past relationship, try a bond of banter. She is having none of it. The bullshitometer flashes red on her wrist, and she flicks it off before locking eyes with me once again. “Listen, pathetic human, I have come here to apologize. Each time you left the fight, I thought you were weak, unable to finish the job. I was wrong, you were right.” She pauses, I am stunned waiting, drink dripping condensation in my hand. “I was wrong because I didn't see the preparation you did. I wasn't there when you enlisted your mistress, when you set up your life for this. I wasn't there when you picked a new battleground, read the new intel and studied new maps. I only saw you at the end, when it all collapsed.” I interrupted fiercely “No, you didn't see the preparation, but you were right about the outcome. Too right. I was never able to overcome you. Not once were you truly defeated.” “No!” She shouted! “NO! There is no way that my void could consume you, because I based that void on tearing down a structure which I now know was never there. I was looking to take a whole human soul. I didn't realise you couldn't make one, even with all that preparation. And this….” She gestured at my stained shorts and beer soaked sofa. “…this is not the stamp of a soul. Therefore, it would not be honorable to kill you. You are not ready for a human death. You are not yet worthy of my attention.” “My apologies are sincere, for you the war is over. Just remember, do not get up from this chair and proclaim yourself strong again. Sit and drink and forget the quest you were on. Let it go. You do not have the vision to survive this war. You do not have the resources to rebuild. And certainly, you do not have the companion which is vital. I was wrong. This is my apology. You are not my adversary; you are a simple drunk with grandiose dreams.” And with that, my Nemesis left me. Sitting on the sofa with my vodka and PTSD.
	[WP] You're a supervillian who has captured your nemesis, but your monologue for them is different this time. Its an apology.	"I'm going to kill you, just like I kill everything else. You will never pat your dog. You will never hear your son call you "DaDa," and you will never talk to your wife again. But first, I need you to listen. DON'T! Try to escape. I NEED- ... \inhale\ I need. \exhale\** You. To listen. Those binds around your handsfeetchestshoulderseverything nothing. NOTHING's COMING OFF! That blindfold's only on you because I don't want you to see me like this. And I can't stand to look at you. I know your power inside and out, and everything you can make, I can destroy. You know that. So just sit there. And shut up. You did a lot of good, self-proclaimed "Mr Eden." You single-handedly made enough trees to restore 100% of forests damaged by humans. Enough fish to take every ocean-inhabiting creature off the endangered species list. Fruit, vegetables, grain, YOU SOLVED WORLD HUNGER, ADAM! So why? For money? Some fat-ass suit in Washington asks for a 30 ft son with bulletproof skin and you give it to him so, what? You could have a big screen T.V? I never had anything against you. I never had anything against anyone. I sat alone. In a cave. In HO-BO-FUCKING-DESERT-NOWHERE-AFRICA reading books by myself until you started making those... things. You saw what happened to me when we got these powers. I can end anything around me. Nobody, not even you can stop me. But you, Adam. You could create LIFE! And you made SHARKS THE SIZE OF SKYSCRAPERS WHICH ATE EVERY HUMAN BEING ON THE PLANET! BECAUSE YOU WERE BORED! And then YOU CAME TO ME to CLEAN UP YOUR MESS! Do you have any idea what it feels like to erase every single living creature in existence, Adam? We annihilated humanity seven times, Adam- SEVEN TIMES! &#x200B; I can't keep doing this any more, Adam. I'm sorry. Goodbye."	After all these years, I finally managed restrain him. After all the damage I had caused, all the devistation, I began to ask myself if the ends had truely justified the means. I had purpose once, I knew what i wanted, and no one would stand in my way. I can still remember the day I met him, it had played out perfectly. Our chaotic never ending power struggle, a true test of will, this is what i had been looking for. Now, as he lay before me, a beaten, broken shell of his former self, I began to feel something, something I couldn't quite place, was this..remorse? "Well, finish it, this is what you wanted right?" He spat the words at me as if they were venom. "I..I don't know if i can." My trembling voice was evidence of the struggle that raged on in my mind. "After everything, after all the innocent lives you've taken, all the destruction you've caused, now look at you, you're even weaker than I thought." His words burned into my thoughts. I am weak, what have i done, this can't be all i was meant for. "You're right." I said, a strange new conviction in my voice,"I am weak. I wish i could have seen this in the beginning, maybe..maybe things could have been different." Tears began to form in my eyes, as I stared my enemy down, his expression changed, He no longer looked at me as if i were a monster. Instead his eyes told another story, one of sympathy, and understanding. "So what will you do now, kill me and be free, or spare me, and face justice?" I looked at him once more. I'd made a decision, I knew what i had to do. I began to build my strength, heating my body as i had done countless times. "I'm sorry, I think that maybe, we could have been allies in another life," I felt the flames shoot up my legs, I had never pushed this far, I knew what would happen. "What are you doing, are you insane?" He was yelling at this point, almost panic sounding. "Actually my friend, I've never felt so at peace, all this time, if i had only listened to you," The flames were up to my neck, i felt no pain, but the life slowly draining from my body, as they crept up my face, I could make out one last comment from my eternal nemesis. "I would have never became the hero that I am, without you pushing me every step of they way. Rest in piece friend"
	[WP] You're a supervillian who has captured your nemesis, but your monologue for them is different this time. Its an apology.	"I'm going to kill you, just like I kill everything else. You will never pat your dog. You will never hear your son call you "DaDa," and you will never talk to your wife again. But first, I need you to listen. DON'T! Try to escape. I NEED- ... \inhale\ I need. \exhale\** You. To listen. Those binds around your handsfeetchestshoulderseverything nothing. NOTHING's COMING OFF! That blindfold's only on you because I don't want you to see me like this. And I can't stand to look at you. I know your power inside and out, and everything you can make, I can destroy. You know that. So just sit there. And shut up. You did a lot of good, self-proclaimed "Mr Eden." You single-handedly made enough trees to restore 100% of forests damaged by humans. Enough fish to take every ocean-inhabiting creature off the endangered species list. Fruit, vegetables, grain, YOU SOLVED WORLD HUNGER, ADAM! So why? For money? Some fat-ass suit in Washington asks for a 30 ft son with bulletproof skin and you give it to him so, what? You could have a big screen T.V? I never had anything against you. I never had anything against anyone. I sat alone. In a cave. In HO-BO-FUCKING-DESERT-NOWHERE-AFRICA reading books by myself until you started making those... things. You saw what happened to me when we got these powers. I can end anything around me. Nobody, not even you can stop me. But you, Adam. You could create LIFE! And you made SHARKS THE SIZE OF SKYSCRAPERS WHICH ATE EVERY HUMAN BEING ON THE PLANET! BECAUSE YOU WERE BORED! And then YOU CAME TO ME to CLEAN UP YOUR MESS! Do you have any idea what it feels like to erase every single living creature in existence, Adam? We annihilated humanity seven times, Adam- SEVEN TIMES! &#x200B; I can't keep doing this any more, Adam. I'm sorry. Goodbye."	We've fought for years Decades, even. All of my plans always fell to your ears And you fought back, to make it even. We've heard it all. Even though we've never hurt one another. But through it all, I've never wanted to hurt you, brother. At this moment in space. All you can do is pace. As I am about to reveal my ace. On why I've fought you for so long. Why you might've thought all was wrong. I only wanted to make you strong. As I the lord of chaos, finish my incantation. You brother, the hero of order, will lead this nation. I hope that you do not regret our relation. To save us from the threat from the beyond. You must respond. Not to me. But to be. The hero I wished to see. ------------------------------------------------------------ As the lord of chaos finishes his chant The hero reaches out, but he can't All is swallowed by the impending light. And now he must do his brother right.
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	Before I was there, it was a mess. Rival gangs were shooting in broad daylight! It was a mess! That wasn’t the worst part, though! I had a problem with the goddamn ｔｒａｓｈ. That’s right. All these young guys thinking they’re the shit, but HEY! You gotta watch the environment too, you know? So that’s what I did! They call me Big G, for Big Green. No one crosses the No Point Gangs. At least, that’s what they used to call us, when we were new on the scene, and they were still ＡＬＩＶＥ. But they had to destroy the recycling plant, didn’t they. It’s funny how people change their story when they’re tied up above a bamboo plant. The old ways, I call em’. Maybe I’ll get the politicians next. I heard them politicians LOVE bamboo.	The midday sun glistens upon a nondescript warehouse whose only identifiable marking is a simple sign on the front door which states in red "No Entry". A large and intimidating man with a leather carry on bag parks his luxury sedan, opens the door and enters into a cozy back office. Ey Miki, how you been? Yous completed the task yet? Sure did, Boz. Good man. I don’t get it boz, why yous think puttin deez funny photographs all ova tha neighborhood iz gun work? Cuz Miki, when a person knows whose got their back people act right, know what I’m sayin’? Ok boss Imsa jus came to pick up some more gotz to head out now still gotz to put sum moa of deez signs up in the next block. Good man, when we’re through everyone is gonna know… The boss lays down a pamphlet copy on his coffee table and in big bold letters it reads ”Jesus Loves You”.
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	Chris walked along the road minding his own business. His phone buzzed and he stopped to check it. "Would you like to enroll in our membership prog..." He hung up, cursing a little in his heart. The light had turned red in the meanwhile and he stood there impatiently tapping his foot. If he hadn't got that phone call, he would have crossed the road and entered the diner. He would have missed what was about to happen. He would never have met Richard "The Hammer" Ginelli. The Gangster with a heart. And his life would have continue on its same boring path. But alas! The cars came shrieking down the road. The first car turned, its brakes shrieking in protest. The second car slammed into it sending it into a tailspin. Both cars lost control and went off the road into the little clearing. A man got out of the second car. Holding a gun in his hand, he quickly checked the first car looking for its driver. He banged on the glass motioning the driver to come out. "Come on Richard. Come out and face me like a man." "You're anything but a man Dwyane. Nothing worse than a man who goes against his word." "Call it what you will. You have been outsmarted. And now, you will die. The city will be mine and mine alone." The man called Richard limped out of the car, blood pouring from his leg. "Come on. On your knees." Dwayne kicked his bad leg and Richard fell to his knees. "Say your prayers Richard. This is the end." That was when Chris reached there. He was a good man. If anyone ever needed help, he would stop and help. And he ran to the two cars. He was of course, wholly unprepared for the execution about to happen right in front of him. "What the... Oh shit." Dwyane looked at him startled. The second of distraction was all Richard needed. He swung his fist, catching Dwyane in the groin region. His face turned purple as he double over in pain. Richard snatched the gun from him and swung it. The metal made a thump as it connected against the prone man's temple. He went down in a heap. Richard looked towards Chris, but the blood flow had made him weak and nauseous. He collapsed too. Chris looked around but there was no one there. He wanted to run away. This was obviously not just a case of vehicles losing control and an accident. But the guy needed help. Chris finally forced himself to go up to the wounded man. The leg was bleeding pretty bad and that would need to be fixed for the man to have any chance. Chris too off his tie and used it as a make shift tourniquet tying it firmly on the man's thigh. He picked up a couple of stones and put his leg high up. He then took the bottle of water he had with him and sprinkled some water on the man's face. The man opened his eyes. "Wake up buddy. Stay with me." "asdasd weertrgrhrhh" "What? I didn't catch that." "ghghghh..." "What was that?" The man's eyes shifted to a spot behind Chris. Chris suddenly felt movement behind him. The attacker was slowly and groggily getting to his feet. Chris's eyes widened as instinct took over. He took one of the stones he had brought for Richard's leg and swung. It connected squarely with the side of the man's head. The sickening thud rang Chris's head as the man fell back down, bleeding from the side of his head. "You... uh, you saved my life." Chris looked back at the man. "What? I... I should call 911." "No! No cops. Call this number instead." Chris called the number the guy gave. A gruff voice answered on the first ring. "Who's this?" "Chris. I uh... there's a guy here. He's injured bad. Someone was attacking him. He gave me this number to call." "What? Who is it?" Chris turned to the guy. "What did you say your name was?" "Richard Ginelli. Tell him it's the hammer." Chris took his hand off the phone and spoke into it again. "It's uh... the Hammer?" "WHAT? The boss? Where are you exactly?" "I'm at the corner of Athena and Caledonia drive. Near the BFB diner." "Stay there. Someone will be there in less than five minutes." "I should call 911." "No need. We'll be quicker. And the less the cops are involved in this the better. The attacker, where is he?" "Unconscious. He's here." "Good. We'll deal with him too." "I... what does that mean?" But the phone had already been disconnected. The Hammer had lain back down. Chris looked at the scene around him. 'Deal with him.' What did that mean? He looked at the two men. And the gun lying there as well. He looked at the wound on the man's leg. Probably a gunshot wound. What had he got himself into? He went up to the injured man. "I need to get out of here." "Stay. You will be rewarded." "What did he mean 'deal with him'?" Richard smiled. "You saw it. The guy was trying to kill me. What do you think it means?" "I can't be here. I should go." He looked at the two guys awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm gonna go." Richard smiled again. "Alright. Just know. I take care of people who help me. Anything you need, find me. Or, I'll find you." ***************************** A few months later Jacob walked up to his boss. "Here we go boss. I got it." Richard Ginelli stood up wincing a little. The damage was mostly fixed. But once in a while, he still felt pain in his leg. A little parting gift from the late Dwyane James. "Good. Now remember. He saved my life. I don't care what it takes. We have to make his every desire come true. Anything he ever wished for, he gets." "Are you sure boss? Some of these are a, uh..., a little weird and expensive." "No matter. Unless you want to set a price of what my life is worth." "No, that's not what I meant boss. Of course, it will be done." ********************** Chris had put the incident mainly out of his mind. As he was woken up by a bark, he realized something was different about that day. He looked at the time. 10 am. He had never before slept so late. His head was a bit heavy. Did he really drink that much last night? Okay so he had slept late and had a hangover. But that wasn't the only thing different. He sat up with a quick motion and looked at the massive Labrador sitting in his bedroom. That was what was different. He didn't own a dog. He got up, a little wary. "Shoo. Shoo. Go away dog." The dog growled a little and kept staring at Chris. Chris slowly moved to the wall and slowly inched towards the door. The dog turned its head following his movements. When he was at the door he jumped out and slammed the door shut behind him. How had the dog gotten into his house? He needed some water. And then he needed to figure out what to do. As he drank some water, his eyes wandered to a little note at his counter. 'You saved my life. Now, all that you ever wished for, will be granted. Love, Richard.' A dog? He had never wished for a dog. Well, once when he was like twelve years old. But at the time he was a kid and lived with his parents. Now he lived alone in an apartment. He didn't have space or time for a dog. But he couldn't just leave the poor thing locked in there. Well, dogs were really smart creatures. Maybe if he just left his door open, it would go to whatever its previous home was. And then it would be their problem. He slowly opened the bedroom door. The dog was still pretty much at the same place. Only looking at the door now. "Uh... Come on boy." The dog promptly got up and followed him. An very well trained dog.The dog went into the living room and sat down again. Staring at him. Chris opened the front door. "Go on then. Go to your home buddy." The dog stood still looking at him. "I..." He shrugged and went back to the kitchen. He had left the doors open and the dog would go out when it wanted. But maybe he should feed it. He wasn't sure what dogs ate, but they definitely drank milk. He went back to his kitchen and saw another note. One of his unused cabinets had a sticky on it. 'Dog Food.' Well at least they had been kind enough to leave some food. He opened the cabinet and stacks of dog food lay there. Enough for at least a couple of months. Also a nice red colored bowl marked 'Sawyer'. He filled up the bowl using the instructions on the back of the package. "Hey Sawyer, want some food?" The dog immediately got up and came to him. A rather well trained dog. He knew that exercise was important for dogs. So he took Sawyer to the nearby park. A woman who he had often seen around and secretly had an infatuation with came to talk to him. "Wow! What a good boy. I've seen you around but never with him?" "Oh yeah. I just got him today. He's a rescue." "Oh wow. Guys like you make the world a better place." He was smiling ear from ear as Ruby stayed with him a while and gave him some tips and tricks to play with his dog. He reached his home still smiling. "Sawyer, buddy, this might just work out." There was a knock on the door. Chris opened and a couple of well build men stood there. "Time for the next one." "Sorry, what?" "Your next wish." "What are you talking about?" "The boss found that list. And since he is indebted to you, he's gonna make those wishes come true." "What list? I don't know what you mean?" The man sighed. "Looks like we are going to have to do this the hard way."	The midday sun glistens upon a nondescript warehouse whose only identifiable marking is a simple sign on the front door which states in red "No Entry". A large and intimidating man with a leather carry on bag parks his luxury sedan, opens the door and enters into a cozy back office. Ey Miki, how you been? Yous completed the task yet? Sure did, Boz. Good man. I don’t get it boz, why yous think puttin deez funny photographs all ova tha neighborhood iz gun work? Cuz Miki, when a person knows whose got their back people act right, know what I’m sayin’? Ok boss Imsa jus came to pick up some more gotz to head out now still gotz to put sum moa of deez signs up in the next block. Good man, when we’re through everyone is gonna know… The boss lays down a pamphlet copy on his coffee table and in big bold letters it reads ”Jesus Loves You”.
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	My mother always told me to take care of the people around you. You never know when you're going to need help too. I try to keep that in mind every day. I bought a house, car, and everything from the money I "found." A couple of hold ups and selling counterfeit passports will leave you flush with non taxable income. So to speak. I was made. My wife and I had a good life. I had to go away on business a lot but she kept up the house. We always wished we could have had kids. Sometimes I'd pay for toys on lay a way. Buy a grocery cart full of things when a family was short cash. Evelyn even watched neighbor kids to save their families money on day care. She thought girls and boys how to be generous. When she died of breast cancer, all the kids came to pay respects. I started my life over again. But the game always had it's claws in me. No matter how much I gave. I still felt guilty. Cash spends the same everywhere, don't make your hands have to be clean getting it. But time passes. Then again, not much has changed since I turned myself in. Life without the possibility for parole. They didn't go for the death penalty but sometimes I wish they had. I get three square and counseling three times a week. They let me help out with the books every once in a while. It's good. Regimented, how I like it. I keep to myself most of the time. Sometimes, when I see the new guys come in, I'll chat just to show them I'm not a jerk. Sometimes I think about when I got locked up the first time. I should have been more like my mother wanted. At least I changed later on. I took the fall for a guy who has the chance to do just that. This place ain't for a kid with little ones and a wife. When he showed up that day at the docks, I shuddered. But the boss made him pull the trigger. Saying he was made now. A real part of the family. All that changed when they found the body. The family turned a blind eye. His wife and kids were homeless. She was 7 months along, their son was 5. I took them in. Let them have my bed. My wife had been gone for a long time and the couch had been my my bed half the time anyway when she was alive. Poor kids. The baby came during the trial. I told the doctors she was my daughter. Drove her their myself. Paid the bill for the baby's birth in full. Crime pays. It's the least I could do. I just couldn't handle her crying. The baby was healthy and gorgeous. Her mother was a wreck. She cried all day and night. Tried everything to get her husband out. 4 weeks after the baby was born. I turned myself in. Told them I pulled the trigger even hid the body. It was quick after that. The kid got out and moved out of town. They had plenty to start a new life. Especially since I left them everything I had in a garbage bag. $160 k at least. Unmarked bills, non sequential. Gave him my best wishes and haven't heard from them since. I suppose if I had to do over I could have let them suffer. But then again, seeing the Christmas card, pictures, and my "grand babies" artwork; it makes up for the food they serve here. I think my mother would have been proud.	The midday sun glistens upon a nondescript warehouse whose only identifiable marking is a simple sign on the front door which states in red "No Entry". A large and intimidating man with a leather carry on bag parks his luxury sedan, opens the door and enters into a cozy back office. Ey Miki, how you been? Yous completed the task yet? Sure did, Boz. Good man. I don’t get it boz, why yous think puttin deez funny photographs all ova tha neighborhood iz gun work? Cuz Miki, when a person knows whose got their back people act right, know what I’m sayin’? Ok boss Imsa jus came to pick up some more gotz to head out now still gotz to put sum moa of deez signs up in the next block. Good man, when we’re through everyone is gonna know… The boss lays down a pamphlet copy on his coffee table and in big bold letters it reads ”Jesus Loves You”.
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	There was a hesitant knocking at the door when Don Bianchi had just begun his morning intake of scotch and a thick cigar. He crossed the length of his office and sat down at his desk, easing into his cushioned, black leather chair. A gentle clink could be heard as he placed his glass carefully on the rosewood desk. He motioned to the silent man clad in all black that stood vigil next to the office door; the man turned and opened it, allowing the visitor into the room. A young man entered the office, glancing quickly about the room and absorbing the luxury that lay before him. His chestnut-colored suit jacket hung limply over his frame and a mismatched belt bunched his oversized pants around his waist. Don Bianchi could tell just by looking at the boy that he was new. No self-respecting man of his would ever dress that way knowingly – especially not in front of the don himself. Bianchi eyed the visitor silently. The boy was nervous and fidgeted ceaselessly. After what seemed like hours to the boy, Bianchi spoke: “What business do you have, son?” Bianchi’s voice rumbled through the air, and his deep tones emanated warmly towards the boy. The visitor’s stiffness softened somewhat and he appeared more at ease in front of the don. “It’s one of the families in town, sir,” the boy began softly. “It’s the De Lucas. We went ‘round to collect on their loan, but they said they couldn’t pay.” The don leaned forward in his seat. “What excuse did they give you?” he asked the boy, attempting to remain composed. Trembling, the boy stared at the glass of scotch on Bianchi’s desk. “The wife said that Tony had gotten fired from his job at the docks, sir,” the boy replied. “She said that they didn’t have any income coming in, especially after having to pay for their daughter’s school.” “And why,” the don began, “did Mr. De Luca get fired?” “Apparently some nut-job hit their car and ran off without saying anything,” the boy answered. “He couldn’t make it all the way to the docks from the west end of town.” Bianchi leaned back in his chair, considering the matter carefully. “Thank you for letting me know…” The don trailed off and glanced at the boy inquisitively. Realization hit the boy quickly and he filled in his name for the don. “Moretti, sir, Fonso Moretti.” Bianchi graced the boy with a small smile. “Thank you, Fonso,” the don finished. Taking the hint, the boy turned and exited the room. The man in black closed the door behind him and stepped forward to the don’s desk. “Want me to go take care of things, sir?” he asked knowingly. Bianchi puffed on his cigar nonchalantly. “Yeah,” he began slowly. “I want you to call up Victor at the junkyard and get him to go to the De Luca house to tow that lemon of a car away. If he gives you any crap, tell him that I still have those pictures of him and that broad from Newark that I don’t mind showing his wife.” The man nodded as Bianchi put out his cigar in a glass ashtray on his desk. “Then I want you and Sammy to take one of the company cars and park it at the De Lucas’ house. Make sure Tony gets the keys – no one else,” the don ordered. “And tell him that if he says anything to anyone, I’ll take the non-payment out on his legs.” Bianchi pulled a cellphone out of his suit pocket and began typing a number out on the screen. The man in black left the room wordlessly as the phone in Bianchi’s hand began to ring out. “Maria, doll,” he said when the call was picked up. “I need you to find out what school the De Luca kid goes to. Fix her up a nice little uniform and have it delivered. Something like what you did for Sophia last year. No, don’t leave a name on it – that’s the last thing we need.” The don ended the call and placed the phone on his desk. He gulped down the last of the scotch and set the glass down gently. The things I do for my city, he thought to himself. The things I do.	The midday sun glistens upon a nondescript warehouse whose only identifiable marking is a simple sign on the front door which states in red "No Entry". A large and intimidating man with a leather carry on bag parks his luxury sedan, opens the door and enters into a cozy back office. Ey Miki, how you been? Yous completed the task yet? Sure did, Boz. Good man. I don’t get it boz, why yous think puttin deez funny photographs all ova tha neighborhood iz gun work? Cuz Miki, when a person knows whose got their back people act right, know what I’m sayin’? Ok boss Imsa jus came to pick up some more gotz to head out now still gotz to put sum moa of deez signs up in the next block. Good man, when we’re through everyone is gonna know… The boss lays down a pamphlet copy on his coffee table and in big bold letters it reads ”Jesus Loves You”.
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	“Good evening, Lieutenant.” The spark of a lighter illuminates the bottom half of the man’s face, and then quickly fades, leaving only the dim orange glow of a lit cigarette. Claire wants to go for her gun, but someone’s already behind her, pressing the harsh metallic end of a revolver into the small of her back. “Don’t make my associate shoot you,” the smoking man says. Claire can’t see his features; they’re concealed by shadow and the wide brim of a hat that seems like it just came off the set of noir movie. She can only see the man’s lips – thin and expressive, curving into a smirk as he tugs on the end of his cigarette. “What do you want?” Claire says. She’s tired – no, exhausted is more like it – and she figures if they wanted to kill her, they would have by now. No need to converse with the dead. “An exchange. Or maybe a gift. Depends how you look at it.” “And why,” Claire laughs harshly, “would I consider that from you? I know who you are. What you do.” The smoking man smiles. “That’s good” he says, shrouded by clouds of smoke, like some mythic beast from a fantasy. “I would be disappointed otherwise. But,” he pauses, leaning forward, “you will be entertain this notion.” Claire says nothing. The man nods, like he expected this reaction, and then says two words that send her world tumbling into chaos. “Enrico Marlow.” Claire freezes. It takes her probably a whole minute to draw a breath – a shuddering, heavy inhale that fills her senses with the smell of cheap Marlboro – all while the man continues to talk. “Your sister was sixteen, was she not?” he says, still sitting nonchalant in her own chair, one leg over the other, holding up his cigarette. “Enrico kept her for three days. And then, when they caught him, he turned to the Feds, helped them bust his old gang. He got full immunity in return. Witness protection. And not a day served for the...atrocities he inflicted upon your family. The wounds that he left.” Claire doesn’t care about the gun in her back; she’s drowning in her memories. She staggers over to a chair and falls down, breathless, cupping the sides of her head like that will ward off the pain of the past. She cups her head, just like she did all those years ago, when they were making the decision to take her sister off life-support. “It’s why you went into law enforcement, is it not?” the man continues. “To ensure that nothing like that could happen again? Over the years, you’ve told everyone that your decision was about justice...but here, in the dark, I think we can admit the truth, lieutenant. What you want...is revenge.” Claire looks up, trying to pierce the darkness with her gaze, and that seems to be the only response the smoking man needs. “Enrico is living under a new identity. He’s quite content. Good house, good car. He goes out every weekend, has a couple of pints. We could take care of that.” “No,” says Claire. The word comes out harsh, alien to her own ears. It’s like her own voice has changed, become rougher...and truer in the darkness. Because the man is right. She doesn’t want justice. She wants revenge. The man dips his head, his lips still curved into that enigmatic smirk. “Tomorrow,” he says, “you will go to your precinct and you will remove the evidence from Davidson’s case from lockup. You will take it to an address my associate will provide. In return, you will receive the details of Enrico’s new name and location, as well as any assistance in handling his situation.” Claire is silent, hunched in her chair. The man observes her carefully and then stands up, putting out his cigarette in the potted plant that Claire has stopped caring for long ago. “Do we have an accord?” he holds out his hand. Claire thinks that’s funny, that word. Accord. So archaic. But she grips his hand nonetheless. “We do,” she says. It doesn’t feel bad, this agreement. Doesn’t feel like she’s selling her soul. Instead, it’s...liberating. For years, she’s worked on the force, facing laughter and ridicule. A woman in an old boy’s club. She threw away her scholarships and her dreams. She did everything by the book. And it’s left her so hollow inside. Until now. Now...she’s alive. . . . . “She’ll make a good captain,” the man says later, when he’s seated in the warmth of his car. The cold November rain beats outside, coloring the city into a haze of neon lights. “We should vet her for mayor, too.” “Is that wise?” the associate asks from the driver’s seat. “What if she turns?” “I don’t think so,” the man laughs. He lights another cigarette, and this time, the glow illuminates his eyes – dark and acid yellow. “Once they cross the line, they never come back.” The associate grunts in agreement. “Who’s next?” the man asks after a minute of silence. “Katie Sacks,” his driver responds. “Waitress, two children. Has an abusive husband. She’s been trying to get away from him for years, but it’s never worked out. He nearly put her in the hospital two days back.” “Mmm,” the man smacks his lips. He straightens up in anticipation, the movement somehow jerky in the confines of his car. “Well let’s rid her of this burden then.” He smiles again, widely, his teeth sharp as nails in the chasm of his mouth. He laughs. “After all, I love doing good deeds.”	The midday sun glistens upon a nondescript warehouse whose only identifiable marking is a simple sign on the front door which states in red "No Entry". A large and intimidating man with a leather carry on bag parks his luxury sedan, opens the door and enters into a cozy back office. Ey Miki, how you been? Yous completed the task yet? Sure did, Boz. Good man. I don’t get it boz, why yous think puttin deez funny photographs all ova tha neighborhood iz gun work? Cuz Miki, when a person knows whose got their back people act right, know what I’m sayin’? Ok boss Imsa jus came to pick up some more gotz to head out now still gotz to put sum moa of deez signs up in the next block. Good man, when we’re through everyone is gonna know… The boss lays down a pamphlet copy on his coffee table and in big bold letters it reads ”Jesus Loves You”.
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	Thirty years ago, perhaps, I would have behaved differently. I would certainly have bawled my lungs out, no matter that the black hood they secured around my head threatened to stifle my breathing. I would have begged for my life too. Anything, really, just to let me go, just to return me to the street they snatched me from. But I found that I no longer really gave a damn about anything. “She’s a tough one, boss,” said the man to my left as he lifted the hood. “Didn’t make a single squeak throughout the entire drive here.” “You boys hurt her?” “Nuh uh,” said the other to my right. He was putting the finishing touches to the knots around my wrists. “We was all gentle, like.” “I drove extra slow too,” came a deep voice from behind me. “Went all careful over the bumps, kept to the speed limits too. No one saw us, boss. We clean.” I blinked as I took in my surroundings – the one they called ‘boss’ was seated in a chair, a couple of feet away, one leg over the other. He was around my age, not quite in his fifties, greying hair slicked back. I didn’t recognize him, though he had the sort of weathered look that would fit equally well on a grocer or a general returning from war. The well-tailored shirt and pants suggested an office worker, though the scent of authority about him seemed to have been earned on the streets. “I ain’t got no money,” I said. “I also know I ain’t pretty, and you don’t look like the type of man who would make a mistake like kidnappin’ the wrong woman. So you want to tell me what this is about, mister?” He smiled, then reclined in his chair and folded his hands together. “Mrs Madison Williams, you are indeed as steely as I thought you would be. That saves us a lot of time. I have but one demand,” he said as he pointed a finger at me. “Give me the letter in your handbag, and promise me that you’ll never write anything like it again.” My eyes narrowed, and despite my best efforts, I felt a fine sweat bead across my forehead. How could he have known? I bit my lip and tried to focus. “I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending I do not know what you are referring to,” I replied. “But can you please tell me why the hell is a man of power like you wasting his time on me? Do I even know you?” He laughed. “No, you don’t. We’ve never met. They call me the Gardener, though I’ll be surprised if that name rang a bell with you. Mrs Williams, the only thing I want to achieve today is to persuade you to withdraw your notice of resignation. Stay on at Hope High. Do what you do best. That’s all I ask.” “You think you know me?” I said, the blood suddenly rushing to my head. “You don’t know me. You don’t know my reasons. What are you going to do if I refuse? Kill me?” The Gardener nodded towards the men about me, and I heard muted grumbling as they cut through the ropes binding me. I was suddenly free again, but my feet would not move. “I had them tie you only as a precaution against you panicking. You were always free to refuse, Mrs Williams. But I hope you can consider my request. I’m a fair man. I’ll give you three names if you agree.” “Three… names?” “Three names, yes. But only if you decide to continue teaching. That will give you the conviction to know that I am right. I mean, I know I am right. I only hope I can persuade you to see it too.” “I don’t… look, mister. I don’t understand any of this. I can’t just… change my mind like that. I’ve been thinking long and hard about this myself, and I-” “Well, you love teaching, yes?” he asked. “You fought all those battles just to stay on at Hope High, yes? You turned down the other job offers that came in over the years, just so that you could stay on and maybe improve the lives of your students, yes? So why the sudden difficulty?” The cat, as it were, had my tongue. I kept opening my mouth to reply, but a curious shame had set my face ablaze. I didn’t care who this man was, and I certainly didn’t care if he judged me, but the creeping realization was that by saying it aloud… I might finally end up judging myself. I glanced up and saw a tinge of compassion in his eyes, and that was the crack which broke the dam. “I… I’m tired,” I said. “I can’t do this anymore. Someone better than me has got to take my place. I lost another student last week, did you know? It wasn’t to drugs this time, thankfully, but it might as well have been the same. The grip on him was certainly as merciless.” My hands flew to my face, though not in time. The tears trickled out between my fingers. “I told him, Ronald, you ain’t stupid. You just gotta try harder. We’re all here for you, just do your best. But he told me, he said, Mrs Williams, I ain’t never gonna be good at school. I’ve got places to be, things to do. Just like that, I lost another one. I heard it in his voice – I knew he was never coming back.” “You just… let him go?” Was his question designed to prick? For it surely did, and a reservoir of anger, the result of years and years of repeated disappointment, bubbled up like a geyser. “Let him? Mr Gardener, you think my job is to force students to be different? I’m a teacher! I guide them! I try to help them! That’s all I can do! That’s all I should do! What’s the use of me forcing them if it means that they only do what I want when I’m there? That’s not how it should be! They need to… they need to see the importance of it themselves!” “Ah,” he said. “Do you mean, perhaps, that by peeling the shell from an unhatched bird, you may be doing it more harm than good?” I blinked again. I did not expect that from him. “Yes. Yes, I suppose, yes.” “Trust me,” he said. “I do entirely have the same view. But consider this – not every seed is meant to bloom. That is outside our control. We are but human, Mrs Williams. I have a hundred plots in my field. I tend to them as much as I can. I do not force them to grow, I merely nudge. Too little, and I cannot sleep at night. Too much, and the flowers, they rebel. Just the right amount of persuasion, though, and miracles happen.” He stood up then, then walked the short distance across to me. He held out his hand. “Mrs Williams? The letter, please? I do hope you can see that by staying in your job, you will achieve a lot more for this city than you think you can, even though you may not always see it.” “You did not hear me, Mr Gardener. I’m not a good teacher. I can’t even-” “You’re a grown woman, Mrs Williams, and while I have infinite patience, other flowers call to me. Your letter in exchange for three names. I promise.” I had no idea what he was referring to, but my hand, it delved into my handbag and retrieved the white flag I was so ready to hoist. The moment it passed to him, the Gardener knelt on one knee, then said, “Kevin Allen. Michael Wright. And last but not least, Anthony Lewis.” “What… what are you talking about-” “Mam, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten us,” came a voice from the left. Then, a chuckle from the right – “Mrs Williams, you still as feisty as ever.” Finally, the same sonorous voice from the back, “Mrs Williams, I finally got that driving license in the end. Just like I told you I would.” I turned as I took in their features, and this time, with names to the faces, the years melted away. Kevin, the boy who had a head for arithmetic, but with an equal passion for truancy. Michael, who would rather spend his hours chasing tail instead of concentrating on his studies. Even Anthony, who dreamed of setting up a delivery business, yet had always let his self-doubt hobble him completely. “I didn’t have to do much with them,” said the Gardener, his voice cutting back in. “When I met them, it was clear that they were different from the other riff-raff on the street. They remembered your lessons. All they needed was a bit more persuasion, of the sort which I am better equipped to provide. Rest assured, they only call me ‘boss’ out of some misguided respect. They are all self-made men now, standing on their own two feet. And I don’t think I could have done that without you.” I hugged them, of course. Damn near broke their ribs as I pulled them close and sobbed. When the tears finally ebbed away, they fished out their phones and wallets, showing me their wives, their children. Their new lives, blooming, curling like verdant tendrils towards the sun. Eventually, I looked around me for the Gardener, but he was already gone. Only a fistful of ripped-up paper marked the spot where he was standing. --- /r/rarelyfunny	The midday sun glistens upon a nondescript warehouse whose only identifiable marking is a simple sign on the front door which states in red "No Entry". A large and intimidating man with a leather carry on bag parks his luxury sedan, opens the door and enters into a cozy back office. Ey Miki, how you been? Yous completed the task yet? Sure did, Boz. Good man. I don’t get it boz, why yous think puttin deez funny photographs all ova tha neighborhood iz gun work? Cuz Miki, when a person knows whose got their back people act right, know what I’m sayin’? Ok boss Imsa jus came to pick up some more gotz to head out now still gotz to put sum moa of deez signs up in the next block. Good man, when we’re through everyone is gonna know… The boss lays down a pamphlet copy on his coffee table and in big bold letters it reads ”Jesus Loves You”.
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	My mother always told me to take care of the people around you. You never know when you're going to need help too. I try to keep that in mind every day. I bought a house, car, and everything from the money I "found." A couple of hold ups and selling counterfeit passports will leave you flush with non taxable income. So to speak. I was made. My wife and I had a good life. I had to go away on business a lot but she kept up the house. We always wished we could have had kids. Sometimes I'd pay for toys on lay a way. Buy a grocery cart full of things when a family was short cash. Evelyn even watched neighbor kids to save their families money on day care. She thought girls and boys how to be generous. When she died of breast cancer, all the kids came to pay respects. I started my life over again. But the game always had it's claws in me. No matter how much I gave. I still felt guilty. Cash spends the same everywhere, don't make your hands have to be clean getting it. But time passes. Then again, not much has changed since I turned myself in. Life without the possibility for parole. They didn't go for the death penalty but sometimes I wish they had. I get three square and counseling three times a week. They let me help out with the books every once in a while. It's good. Regimented, how I like it. I keep to myself most of the time. Sometimes, when I see the new guys come in, I'll chat just to show them I'm not a jerk. Sometimes I think about when I got locked up the first time. I should have been more like my mother wanted. At least I changed later on. I took the fall for a guy who has the chance to do just that. This place ain't for a kid with little ones and a wife. When he showed up that day at the docks, I shuddered. But the boss made him pull the trigger. Saying he was made now. A real part of the family. All that changed when they found the body. The family turned a blind eye. His wife and kids were homeless. She was 7 months along, their son was 5. I took them in. Let them have my bed. My wife had been gone for a long time and the couch had been my my bed half the time anyway when she was alive. Poor kids. The baby came during the trial. I told the doctors she was my daughter. Drove her their myself. Paid the bill for the baby's birth in full. Crime pays. It's the least I could do. I just couldn't handle her crying. The baby was healthy and gorgeous. Her mother was a wreck. She cried all day and night. Tried everything to get her husband out. 4 weeks after the baby was born. I turned myself in. Told them I pulled the trigger even hid the body. It was quick after that. The kid got out and moved out of town. They had plenty to start a new life. Especially since I left them everything I had in a garbage bag. $160 k at least. Unmarked bills, non sequential. Gave him my best wishes and haven't heard from them since. I suppose if I had to do over I could have let them suffer. But then again, seeing the Christmas card, pictures, and my "grand babies" artwork; it makes up for the food they serve here. I think my mother would have been proud.	Before I was there, it was a mess. Rival gangs were shooting in broad daylight! It was a mess! That wasn’t the worst part, though! I had a problem with the goddamn ｔｒａｓｈ. That’s right. All these young guys thinking they’re the shit, but HEY! You gotta watch the environment too, you know? So that’s what I did! They call me Big G, for Big Green. No one crosses the No Point Gangs. At least, that’s what they used to call us, when we were new on the scene, and they were still ＡＬＩＶＥ. But they had to destroy the recycling plant, didn’t they. It’s funny how people change their story when they’re tied up above a bamboo plant. The old ways, I call em’. Maybe I’ll get the politicians next. I heard them politicians LOVE bamboo.
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	There was a hesitant knocking at the door when Don Bianchi had just begun his morning intake of scotch and a thick cigar. He crossed the length of his office and sat down at his desk, easing into his cushioned, black leather chair. A gentle clink could be heard as he placed his glass carefully on the rosewood desk. He motioned to the silent man clad in all black that stood vigil next to the office door; the man turned and opened it, allowing the visitor into the room. A young man entered the office, glancing quickly about the room and absorbing the luxury that lay before him. His chestnut-colored suit jacket hung limply over his frame and a mismatched belt bunched his oversized pants around his waist. Don Bianchi could tell just by looking at the boy that he was new. No self-respecting man of his would ever dress that way knowingly – especially not in front of the don himself. Bianchi eyed the visitor silently. The boy was nervous and fidgeted ceaselessly. After what seemed like hours to the boy, Bianchi spoke: “What business do you have, son?” Bianchi’s voice rumbled through the air, and his deep tones emanated warmly towards the boy. The visitor’s stiffness softened somewhat and he appeared more at ease in front of the don. “It’s one of the families in town, sir,” the boy began softly. “It’s the De Lucas. We went ‘round to collect on their loan, but they said they couldn’t pay.” The don leaned forward in his seat. “What excuse did they give you?” he asked the boy, attempting to remain composed. Trembling, the boy stared at the glass of scotch on Bianchi’s desk. “The wife said that Tony had gotten fired from his job at the docks, sir,” the boy replied. “She said that they didn’t have any income coming in, especially after having to pay for their daughter’s school.” “And why,” the don began, “did Mr. De Luca get fired?” “Apparently some nut-job hit their car and ran off without saying anything,” the boy answered. “He couldn’t make it all the way to the docks from the west end of town.” Bianchi leaned back in his chair, considering the matter carefully. “Thank you for letting me know…” The don trailed off and glanced at the boy inquisitively. Realization hit the boy quickly and he filled in his name for the don. “Moretti, sir, Fonso Moretti.” Bianchi graced the boy with a small smile. “Thank you, Fonso,” the don finished. Taking the hint, the boy turned and exited the room. The man in black closed the door behind him and stepped forward to the don’s desk. “Want me to go take care of things, sir?” he asked knowingly. Bianchi puffed on his cigar nonchalantly. “Yeah,” he began slowly. “I want you to call up Victor at the junkyard and get him to go to the De Luca house to tow that lemon of a car away. If he gives you any crap, tell him that I still have those pictures of him and that broad from Newark that I don’t mind showing his wife.” The man nodded as Bianchi put out his cigar in a glass ashtray on his desk. “Then I want you and Sammy to take one of the company cars and park it at the De Lucas’ house. Make sure Tony gets the keys – no one else,” the don ordered. “And tell him that if he says anything to anyone, I’ll take the non-payment out on his legs.” Bianchi pulled a cellphone out of his suit pocket and began typing a number out on the screen. The man in black left the room wordlessly as the phone in Bianchi’s hand began to ring out. “Maria, doll,” he said when the call was picked up. “I need you to find out what school the De Luca kid goes to. Fix her up a nice little uniform and have it delivered. Something like what you did for Sophia last year. No, don’t leave a name on it – that’s the last thing we need.” The don ended the call and placed the phone on his desk. He gulped down the last of the scotch and set the glass down gently. The things I do for my city, he thought to himself. The things I do.	Before I was there, it was a mess. Rival gangs were shooting in broad daylight! It was a mess! That wasn’t the worst part, though! I had a problem with the goddamn ｔｒａｓｈ. That’s right. All these young guys thinking they’re the shit, but HEY! You gotta watch the environment too, you know? So that’s what I did! They call me Big G, for Big Green. No one crosses the No Point Gangs. At least, that’s what they used to call us, when we were new on the scene, and they were still ＡＬＩＶＥ. But they had to destroy the recycling plant, didn’t they. It’s funny how people change their story when they’re tied up above a bamboo plant. The old ways, I call em’. Maybe I’ll get the politicians next. I heard them politicians LOVE bamboo.
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	“Good evening, Lieutenant.” The spark of a lighter illuminates the bottom half of the man’s face, and then quickly fades, leaving only the dim orange glow of a lit cigarette. Claire wants to go for her gun, but someone’s already behind her, pressing the harsh metallic end of a revolver into the small of her back. “Don’t make my associate shoot you,” the smoking man says. Claire can’t see his features; they’re concealed by shadow and the wide brim of a hat that seems like it just came off the set of noir movie. She can only see the man’s lips – thin and expressive, curving into a smirk as he tugs on the end of his cigarette. “What do you want?” Claire says. She’s tired – no, exhausted is more like it – and she figures if they wanted to kill her, they would have by now. No need to converse with the dead. “An exchange. Or maybe a gift. Depends how you look at it.” “And why,” Claire laughs harshly, “would I consider that from you? I know who you are. What you do.” The smoking man smiles. “That’s good” he says, shrouded by clouds of smoke, like some mythic beast from a fantasy. “I would be disappointed otherwise. But,” he pauses, leaning forward, “you will be entertain this notion.” Claire says nothing. The man nods, like he expected this reaction, and then says two words that send her world tumbling into chaos. “Enrico Marlow.” Claire freezes. It takes her probably a whole minute to draw a breath – a shuddering, heavy inhale that fills her senses with the smell of cheap Marlboro – all while the man continues to talk. “Your sister was sixteen, was she not?” he says, still sitting nonchalant in her own chair, one leg over the other, holding up his cigarette. “Enrico kept her for three days. And then, when they caught him, he turned to the Feds, helped them bust his old gang. He got full immunity in return. Witness protection. And not a day served for the...atrocities he inflicted upon your family. The wounds that he left.” Claire doesn’t care about the gun in her back; she’s drowning in her memories. She staggers over to a chair and falls down, breathless, cupping the sides of her head like that will ward off the pain of the past. She cups her head, just like she did all those years ago, when they were making the decision to take her sister off life-support. “It’s why you went into law enforcement, is it not?” the man continues. “To ensure that nothing like that could happen again? Over the years, you’ve told everyone that your decision was about justice...but here, in the dark, I think we can admit the truth, lieutenant. What you want...is revenge.” Claire looks up, trying to pierce the darkness with her gaze, and that seems to be the only response the smoking man needs. “Enrico is living under a new identity. He’s quite content. Good house, good car. He goes out every weekend, has a couple of pints. We could take care of that.” “No,” says Claire. The word comes out harsh, alien to her own ears. It’s like her own voice has changed, become rougher...and truer in the darkness. Because the man is right. She doesn’t want justice. She wants revenge. The man dips his head, his lips still curved into that enigmatic smirk. “Tomorrow,” he says, “you will go to your precinct and you will remove the evidence from Davidson’s case from lockup. You will take it to an address my associate will provide. In return, you will receive the details of Enrico’s new name and location, as well as any assistance in handling his situation.” Claire is silent, hunched in her chair. The man observes her carefully and then stands up, putting out his cigarette in the potted plant that Claire has stopped caring for long ago. “Do we have an accord?” he holds out his hand. Claire thinks that’s funny, that word. Accord. So archaic. But she grips his hand nonetheless. “We do,” she says. It doesn’t feel bad, this agreement. Doesn’t feel like she’s selling her soul. Instead, it’s...liberating. For years, she’s worked on the force, facing laughter and ridicule. A woman in an old boy’s club. She threw away her scholarships and her dreams. She did everything by the book. And it’s left her so hollow inside. Until now. Now...she’s alive. . . . . “She’ll make a good captain,” the man says later, when he’s seated in the warmth of his car. The cold November rain beats outside, coloring the city into a haze of neon lights. “We should vet her for mayor, too.” “Is that wise?” the associate asks from the driver’s seat. “What if she turns?” “I don’t think so,” the man laughs. He lights another cigarette, and this time, the glow illuminates his eyes – dark and acid yellow. “Once they cross the line, they never come back.” The associate grunts in agreement. “Who’s next?” the man asks after a minute of silence. “Katie Sacks,” his driver responds. “Waitress, two children. Has an abusive husband. She’s been trying to get away from him for years, but it’s never worked out. He nearly put her in the hospital two days back.” “Mmm,” the man smacks his lips. He straightens up in anticipation, the movement somehow jerky in the confines of his car. “Well let’s rid her of this burden then.” He smiles again, widely, his teeth sharp as nails in the chasm of his mouth. He laughs. “After all, I love doing good deeds.”	Before I was there, it was a mess. Rival gangs were shooting in broad daylight! It was a mess! That wasn’t the worst part, though! I had a problem with the goddamn ｔｒａｓｈ. That’s right. All these young guys thinking they’re the shit, but HEY! You gotta watch the environment too, you know? So that’s what I did! They call me Big G, for Big Green. No one crosses the No Point Gangs. At least, that’s what they used to call us, when we were new on the scene, and they were still ＡＬＩＶＥ. But they had to destroy the recycling plant, didn’t they. It’s funny how people change their story when they’re tied up above a bamboo plant. The old ways, I call em’. Maybe I’ll get the politicians next. I heard them politicians LOVE bamboo.
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	Thirty years ago, perhaps, I would have behaved differently. I would certainly have bawled my lungs out, no matter that the black hood they secured around my head threatened to stifle my breathing. I would have begged for my life too. Anything, really, just to let me go, just to return me to the street they snatched me from. But I found that I no longer really gave a damn about anything. “She’s a tough one, boss,” said the man to my left as he lifted the hood. “Didn’t make a single squeak throughout the entire drive here.” “You boys hurt her?” “Nuh uh,” said the other to my right. He was putting the finishing touches to the knots around my wrists. “We was all gentle, like.” “I drove extra slow too,” came a deep voice from behind me. “Went all careful over the bumps, kept to the speed limits too. No one saw us, boss. We clean.” I blinked as I took in my surroundings – the one they called ‘boss’ was seated in a chair, a couple of feet away, one leg over the other. He was around my age, not quite in his fifties, greying hair slicked back. I didn’t recognize him, though he had the sort of weathered look that would fit equally well on a grocer or a general returning from war. The well-tailored shirt and pants suggested an office worker, though the scent of authority about him seemed to have been earned on the streets. “I ain’t got no money,” I said. “I also know I ain’t pretty, and you don’t look like the type of man who would make a mistake like kidnappin’ the wrong woman. So you want to tell me what this is about, mister?” He smiled, then reclined in his chair and folded his hands together. “Mrs Madison Williams, you are indeed as steely as I thought you would be. That saves us a lot of time. I have but one demand,” he said as he pointed a finger at me. “Give me the letter in your handbag, and promise me that you’ll never write anything like it again.” My eyes narrowed, and despite my best efforts, I felt a fine sweat bead across my forehead. How could he have known? I bit my lip and tried to focus. “I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending I do not know what you are referring to,” I replied. “But can you please tell me why the hell is a man of power like you wasting his time on me? Do I even know you?” He laughed. “No, you don’t. We’ve never met. They call me the Gardener, though I’ll be surprised if that name rang a bell with you. Mrs Williams, the only thing I want to achieve today is to persuade you to withdraw your notice of resignation. Stay on at Hope High. Do what you do best. That’s all I ask.” “You think you know me?” I said, the blood suddenly rushing to my head. “You don’t know me. You don’t know my reasons. What are you going to do if I refuse? Kill me?” The Gardener nodded towards the men about me, and I heard muted grumbling as they cut through the ropes binding me. I was suddenly free again, but my feet would not move. “I had them tie you only as a precaution against you panicking. You were always free to refuse, Mrs Williams. But I hope you can consider my request. I’m a fair man. I’ll give you three names if you agree.” “Three… names?” “Three names, yes. But only if you decide to continue teaching. That will give you the conviction to know that I am right. I mean, I know I am right. I only hope I can persuade you to see it too.” “I don’t… look, mister. I don’t understand any of this. I can’t just… change my mind like that. I’ve been thinking long and hard about this myself, and I-” “Well, you love teaching, yes?” he asked. “You fought all those battles just to stay on at Hope High, yes? You turned down the other job offers that came in over the years, just so that you could stay on and maybe improve the lives of your students, yes? So why the sudden difficulty?” The cat, as it were, had my tongue. I kept opening my mouth to reply, but a curious shame had set my face ablaze. I didn’t care who this man was, and I certainly didn’t care if he judged me, but the creeping realization was that by saying it aloud… I might finally end up judging myself. I glanced up and saw a tinge of compassion in his eyes, and that was the crack which broke the dam. “I… I’m tired,” I said. “I can’t do this anymore. Someone better than me has got to take my place. I lost another student last week, did you know? It wasn’t to drugs this time, thankfully, but it might as well have been the same. The grip on him was certainly as merciless.” My hands flew to my face, though not in time. The tears trickled out between my fingers. “I told him, Ronald, you ain’t stupid. You just gotta try harder. We’re all here for you, just do your best. But he told me, he said, Mrs Williams, I ain’t never gonna be good at school. I’ve got places to be, things to do. Just like that, I lost another one. I heard it in his voice – I knew he was never coming back.” “You just… let him go?” Was his question designed to prick? For it surely did, and a reservoir of anger, the result of years and years of repeated disappointment, bubbled up like a geyser. “Let him? Mr Gardener, you think my job is to force students to be different? I’m a teacher! I guide them! I try to help them! That’s all I can do! That’s all I should do! What’s the use of me forcing them if it means that they only do what I want when I’m there? That’s not how it should be! They need to… they need to see the importance of it themselves!” “Ah,” he said. “Do you mean, perhaps, that by peeling the shell from an unhatched bird, you may be doing it more harm than good?” I blinked again. I did not expect that from him. “Yes. Yes, I suppose, yes.” “Trust me,” he said. “I do entirely have the same view. But consider this – not every seed is meant to bloom. That is outside our control. We are but human, Mrs Williams. I have a hundred plots in my field. I tend to them as much as I can. I do not force them to grow, I merely nudge. Too little, and I cannot sleep at night. Too much, and the flowers, they rebel. Just the right amount of persuasion, though, and miracles happen.” He stood up then, then walked the short distance across to me. He held out his hand. “Mrs Williams? The letter, please? I do hope you can see that by staying in your job, you will achieve a lot more for this city than you think you can, even though you may not always see it.” “You did not hear me, Mr Gardener. I’m not a good teacher. I can’t even-” “You’re a grown woman, Mrs Williams, and while I have infinite patience, other flowers call to me. Your letter in exchange for three names. I promise.” I had no idea what he was referring to, but my hand, it delved into my handbag and retrieved the white flag I was so ready to hoist. The moment it passed to him, the Gardener knelt on one knee, then said, “Kevin Allen. Michael Wright. And last but not least, Anthony Lewis.” “What… what are you talking about-” “Mam, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten us,” came a voice from the left. Then, a chuckle from the right – “Mrs Williams, you still as feisty as ever.” Finally, the same sonorous voice from the back, “Mrs Williams, I finally got that driving license in the end. Just like I told you I would.” I turned as I took in their features, and this time, with names to the faces, the years melted away. Kevin, the boy who had a head for arithmetic, but with an equal passion for truancy. Michael, who would rather spend his hours chasing tail instead of concentrating on his studies. Even Anthony, who dreamed of setting up a delivery business, yet had always let his self-doubt hobble him completely. “I didn’t have to do much with them,” said the Gardener, his voice cutting back in. “When I met them, it was clear that they were different from the other riff-raff on the street. They remembered your lessons. All they needed was a bit more persuasion, of the sort which I am better equipped to provide. Rest assured, they only call me ‘boss’ out of some misguided respect. They are all self-made men now, standing on their own two feet. And I don’t think I could have done that without you.” I hugged them, of course. Damn near broke their ribs as I pulled them close and sobbed. When the tears finally ebbed away, they fished out their phones and wallets, showing me their wives, their children. Their new lives, blooming, curling like verdant tendrils towards the sun. Eventually, I looked around me for the Gardener, but he was already gone. Only a fistful of ripped-up paper marked the spot where he was standing. --- /r/rarelyfunny	Before I was there, it was a mess. Rival gangs were shooting in broad daylight! It was a mess! That wasn’t the worst part, though! I had a problem with the goddamn ｔｒａｓｈ. That’s right. All these young guys thinking they’re the shit, but HEY! You gotta watch the environment too, you know? So that’s what I did! They call me Big G, for Big Green. No one crosses the No Point Gangs. At least, that’s what they used to call us, when we were new on the scene, and they were still ＡＬＩＶＥ. But they had to destroy the recycling plant, didn’t they. It’s funny how people change their story when they’re tied up above a bamboo plant. The old ways, I call em’. Maybe I’ll get the politicians next. I heard them politicians LOVE bamboo.
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	My mother always told me to take care of the people around you. You never know when you're going to need help too. I try to keep that in mind every day. I bought a house, car, and everything from the money I "found." A couple of hold ups and selling counterfeit passports will leave you flush with non taxable income. So to speak. I was made. My wife and I had a good life. I had to go away on business a lot but she kept up the house. We always wished we could have had kids. Sometimes I'd pay for toys on lay a way. Buy a grocery cart full of things when a family was short cash. Evelyn even watched neighbor kids to save their families money on day care. She thought girls and boys how to be generous. When she died of breast cancer, all the kids came to pay respects. I started my life over again. But the game always had it's claws in me. No matter how much I gave. I still felt guilty. Cash spends the same everywhere, don't make your hands have to be clean getting it. But time passes. Then again, not much has changed since I turned myself in. Life without the possibility for parole. They didn't go for the death penalty but sometimes I wish they had. I get three square and counseling three times a week. They let me help out with the books every once in a while. It's good. Regimented, how I like it. I keep to myself most of the time. Sometimes, when I see the new guys come in, I'll chat just to show them I'm not a jerk. Sometimes I think about when I got locked up the first time. I should have been more like my mother wanted. At least I changed later on. I took the fall for a guy who has the chance to do just that. This place ain't for a kid with little ones and a wife. When he showed up that day at the docks, I shuddered. But the boss made him pull the trigger. Saying he was made now. A real part of the family. All that changed when they found the body. The family turned a blind eye. His wife and kids were homeless. She was 7 months along, their son was 5. I took them in. Let them have my bed. My wife had been gone for a long time and the couch had been my my bed half the time anyway when she was alive. Poor kids. The baby came during the trial. I told the doctors she was my daughter. Drove her their myself. Paid the bill for the baby's birth in full. Crime pays. It's the least I could do. I just couldn't handle her crying. The baby was healthy and gorgeous. Her mother was a wreck. She cried all day and night. Tried everything to get her husband out. 4 weeks after the baby was born. I turned myself in. Told them I pulled the trigger even hid the body. It was quick after that. The kid got out and moved out of town. They had plenty to start a new life. Especially since I left them everything I had in a garbage bag. $160 k at least. Unmarked bills, non sequential. Gave him my best wishes and haven't heard from them since. I suppose if I had to do over I could have let them suffer. But then again, seeing the Christmas card, pictures, and my "grand babies" artwork; it makes up for the food they serve here. I think my mother would have been proud.	Chris walked along the road minding his own business. His phone buzzed and he stopped to check it. "Would you like to enroll in our membership prog..." He hung up, cursing a little in his heart. The light had turned red in the meanwhile and he stood there impatiently tapping his foot. If he hadn't got that phone call, he would have crossed the road and entered the diner. He would have missed what was about to happen. He would never have met Richard "The Hammer" Ginelli. The Gangster with a heart. And his life would have continue on its same boring path. But alas! The cars came shrieking down the road. The first car turned, its brakes shrieking in protest. The second car slammed into it sending it into a tailspin. Both cars lost control and went off the road into the little clearing. A man got out of the second car. Holding a gun in his hand, he quickly checked the first car looking for its driver. He banged on the glass motioning the driver to come out. "Come on Richard. Come out and face me like a man." "You're anything but a man Dwyane. Nothing worse than a man who goes against his word." "Call it what you will. You have been outsmarted. And now, you will die. The city will be mine and mine alone." The man called Richard limped out of the car, blood pouring from his leg. "Come on. On your knees." Dwayne kicked his bad leg and Richard fell to his knees. "Say your prayers Richard. This is the end." That was when Chris reached there. He was a good man. If anyone ever needed help, he would stop and help. And he ran to the two cars. He was of course, wholly unprepared for the execution about to happen right in front of him. "What the... Oh shit." Dwyane looked at him startled. The second of distraction was all Richard needed. He swung his fist, catching Dwyane in the groin region. His face turned purple as he double over in pain. Richard snatched the gun from him and swung it. The metal made a thump as it connected against the prone man's temple. He went down in a heap. Richard looked towards Chris, but the blood flow had made him weak and nauseous. He collapsed too. Chris looked around but there was no one there. He wanted to run away. This was obviously not just a case of vehicles losing control and an accident. But the guy needed help. Chris finally forced himself to go up to the wounded man. The leg was bleeding pretty bad and that would need to be fixed for the man to have any chance. Chris too off his tie and used it as a make shift tourniquet tying it firmly on the man's thigh. He picked up a couple of stones and put his leg high up. He then took the bottle of water he had with him and sprinkled some water on the man's face. The man opened his eyes. "Wake up buddy. Stay with me." "asdasd weertrgrhrhh" "What? I didn't catch that." "ghghghh..." "What was that?" The man's eyes shifted to a spot behind Chris. Chris suddenly felt movement behind him. The attacker was slowly and groggily getting to his feet. Chris's eyes widened as instinct took over. He took one of the stones he had brought for Richard's leg and swung. It connected squarely with the side of the man's head. The sickening thud rang Chris's head as the man fell back down, bleeding from the side of his head. "You... uh, you saved my life." Chris looked back at the man. "What? I... I should call 911." "No! No cops. Call this number instead." Chris called the number the guy gave. A gruff voice answered on the first ring. "Who's this?" "Chris. I uh... there's a guy here. He's injured bad. Someone was attacking him. He gave me this number to call." "What? Who is it?" Chris turned to the guy. "What did you say your name was?" "Richard Ginelli. Tell him it's the hammer." Chris took his hand off the phone and spoke into it again. "It's uh... the Hammer?" "WHAT? The boss? Where are you exactly?" "I'm at the corner of Athena and Caledonia drive. Near the BFB diner." "Stay there. Someone will be there in less than five minutes." "I should call 911." "No need. We'll be quicker. And the less the cops are involved in this the better. The attacker, where is he?" "Unconscious. He's here." "Good. We'll deal with him too." "I... what does that mean?" But the phone had already been disconnected. The Hammer had lain back down. Chris looked at the scene around him. 'Deal with him.' What did that mean? He looked at the two men. And the gun lying there as well. He looked at the wound on the man's leg. Probably a gunshot wound. What had he got himself into? He went up to the injured man. "I need to get out of here." "Stay. You will be rewarded." "What did he mean 'deal with him'?" Richard smiled. "You saw it. The guy was trying to kill me. What do you think it means?" "I can't be here. I should go." He looked at the two guys awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm gonna go." Richard smiled again. "Alright. Just know. I take care of people who help me. Anything you need, find me. Or, I'll find you." ***************************** A few months later Jacob walked up to his boss. "Here we go boss. I got it." Richard Ginelli stood up wincing a little. The damage was mostly fixed. But once in a while, he still felt pain in his leg. A little parting gift from the late Dwyane James. "Good. Now remember. He saved my life. I don't care what it takes. We have to make his every desire come true. Anything he ever wished for, he gets." "Are you sure boss? Some of these are a, uh..., a little weird and expensive." "No matter. Unless you want to set a price of what my life is worth." "No, that's not what I meant boss. Of course, it will be done." ********************** Chris had put the incident mainly out of his mind. As he was woken up by a bark, he realized something was different about that day. He looked at the time. 10 am. He had never before slept so late. His head was a bit heavy. Did he really drink that much last night? Okay so he had slept late and had a hangover. But that wasn't the only thing different. He sat up with a quick motion and looked at the massive Labrador sitting in his bedroom. That was what was different. He didn't own a dog. He got up, a little wary. "Shoo. Shoo. Go away dog." The dog growled a little and kept staring at Chris. Chris slowly moved to the wall and slowly inched towards the door. The dog turned its head following his movements. When he was at the door he jumped out and slammed the door shut behind him. How had the dog gotten into his house? He needed some water. And then he needed to figure out what to do. As he drank some water, his eyes wandered to a little note at his counter. 'You saved my life. Now, all that you ever wished for, will be granted. Love, Richard.' A dog? He had never wished for a dog. Well, once when he was like twelve years old. But at the time he was a kid and lived with his parents. Now he lived alone in an apartment. He didn't have space or time for a dog. But he couldn't just leave the poor thing locked in there. Well, dogs were really smart creatures. Maybe if he just left his door open, it would go to whatever its previous home was. And then it would be their problem. He slowly opened the bedroom door. The dog was still pretty much at the same place. Only looking at the door now. "Uh... Come on boy." The dog promptly got up and followed him. An very well trained dog.The dog went into the living room and sat down again. Staring at him. Chris opened the front door. "Go on then. Go to your home buddy." The dog stood still looking at him. "I..." He shrugged and went back to the kitchen. He had left the doors open and the dog would go out when it wanted. But maybe he should feed it. He wasn't sure what dogs ate, but they definitely drank milk. He went back to his kitchen and saw another note. One of his unused cabinets had a sticky on it. 'Dog Food.' Well at least they had been kind enough to leave some food. He opened the cabinet and stacks of dog food lay there. Enough for at least a couple of months. Also a nice red colored bowl marked 'Sawyer'. He filled up the bowl using the instructions on the back of the package. "Hey Sawyer, want some food?" The dog immediately got up and came to him. A rather well trained dog. He knew that exercise was important for dogs. So he took Sawyer to the nearby park. A woman who he had often seen around and secretly had an infatuation with came to talk to him. "Wow! What a good boy. I've seen you around but never with him?" "Oh yeah. I just got him today. He's a rescue." "Oh wow. Guys like you make the world a better place." He was smiling ear from ear as Ruby stayed with him a while and gave him some tips and tricks to play with his dog. He reached his home still smiling. "Sawyer, buddy, this might just work out." There was a knock on the door. Chris opened and a couple of well build men stood there. "Time for the next one." "Sorry, what?" "Your next wish." "What are you talking about?" "The boss found that list. And since he is indebted to you, he's gonna make those wishes come true." "What list? I don't know what you mean?" The man sighed. "Looks like we are going to have to do this the hard way."
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	There was a hesitant knocking at the door when Don Bianchi had just begun his morning intake of scotch and a thick cigar. He crossed the length of his office and sat down at his desk, easing into his cushioned, black leather chair. A gentle clink could be heard as he placed his glass carefully on the rosewood desk. He motioned to the silent man clad in all black that stood vigil next to the office door; the man turned and opened it, allowing the visitor into the room. A young man entered the office, glancing quickly about the room and absorbing the luxury that lay before him. His chestnut-colored suit jacket hung limply over his frame and a mismatched belt bunched his oversized pants around his waist. Don Bianchi could tell just by looking at the boy that he was new. No self-respecting man of his would ever dress that way knowingly – especially not in front of the don himself. Bianchi eyed the visitor silently. The boy was nervous and fidgeted ceaselessly. After what seemed like hours to the boy, Bianchi spoke: “What business do you have, son?” Bianchi’s voice rumbled through the air, and his deep tones emanated warmly towards the boy. The visitor’s stiffness softened somewhat and he appeared more at ease in front of the don. “It’s one of the families in town, sir,” the boy began softly. “It’s the De Lucas. We went ‘round to collect on their loan, but they said they couldn’t pay.” The don leaned forward in his seat. “What excuse did they give you?” he asked the boy, attempting to remain composed. Trembling, the boy stared at the glass of scotch on Bianchi’s desk. “The wife said that Tony had gotten fired from his job at the docks, sir,” the boy replied. “She said that they didn’t have any income coming in, especially after having to pay for their daughter’s school.” “And why,” the don began, “did Mr. De Luca get fired?” “Apparently some nut-job hit their car and ran off without saying anything,” the boy answered. “He couldn’t make it all the way to the docks from the west end of town.” Bianchi leaned back in his chair, considering the matter carefully. “Thank you for letting me know…” The don trailed off and glanced at the boy inquisitively. Realization hit the boy quickly and he filled in his name for the don. “Moretti, sir, Fonso Moretti.” Bianchi graced the boy with a small smile. “Thank you, Fonso,” the don finished. Taking the hint, the boy turned and exited the room. The man in black closed the door behind him and stepped forward to the don’s desk. “Want me to go take care of things, sir?” he asked knowingly. Bianchi puffed on his cigar nonchalantly. “Yeah,” he began slowly. “I want you to call up Victor at the junkyard and get him to go to the De Luca house to tow that lemon of a car away. If he gives you any crap, tell him that I still have those pictures of him and that broad from Newark that I don’t mind showing his wife.” The man nodded as Bianchi put out his cigar in a glass ashtray on his desk. “Then I want you and Sammy to take one of the company cars and park it at the De Lucas’ house. Make sure Tony gets the keys – no one else,” the don ordered. “And tell him that if he says anything to anyone, I’ll take the non-payment out on his legs.” Bianchi pulled a cellphone out of his suit pocket and began typing a number out on the screen. The man in black left the room wordlessly as the phone in Bianchi’s hand began to ring out. “Maria, doll,” he said when the call was picked up. “I need you to find out what school the De Luca kid goes to. Fix her up a nice little uniform and have it delivered. Something like what you did for Sophia last year. No, don’t leave a name on it – that’s the last thing we need.” The don ended the call and placed the phone on his desk. He gulped down the last of the scotch and set the glass down gently. The things I do for my city, he thought to himself. The things I do.	Chris walked along the road minding his own business. His phone buzzed and he stopped to check it. "Would you like to enroll in our membership prog..." He hung up, cursing a little in his heart. The light had turned red in the meanwhile and he stood there impatiently tapping his foot. If he hadn't got that phone call, he would have crossed the road and entered the diner. He would have missed what was about to happen. He would never have met Richard "The Hammer" Ginelli. The Gangster with a heart. And his life would have continue on its same boring path. But alas! The cars came shrieking down the road. The first car turned, its brakes shrieking in protest. The second car slammed into it sending it into a tailspin. Both cars lost control and went off the road into the little clearing. A man got out of the second car. Holding a gun in his hand, he quickly checked the first car looking for its driver. He banged on the glass motioning the driver to come out. "Come on Richard. Come out and face me like a man." "You're anything but a man Dwyane. Nothing worse than a man who goes against his word." "Call it what you will. You have been outsmarted. And now, you will die. The city will be mine and mine alone." The man called Richard limped out of the car, blood pouring from his leg. "Come on. On your knees." Dwayne kicked his bad leg and Richard fell to his knees. "Say your prayers Richard. This is the end." That was when Chris reached there. He was a good man. If anyone ever needed help, he would stop and help. And he ran to the two cars. He was of course, wholly unprepared for the execution about to happen right in front of him. "What the... Oh shit." Dwyane looked at him startled. The second of distraction was all Richard needed. He swung his fist, catching Dwyane in the groin region. His face turned purple as he double over in pain. Richard snatched the gun from him and swung it. The metal made a thump as it connected against the prone man's temple. He went down in a heap. Richard looked towards Chris, but the blood flow had made him weak and nauseous. He collapsed too. Chris looked around but there was no one there. He wanted to run away. This was obviously not just a case of vehicles losing control and an accident. But the guy needed help. Chris finally forced himself to go up to the wounded man. The leg was bleeding pretty bad and that would need to be fixed for the man to have any chance. Chris too off his tie and used it as a make shift tourniquet tying it firmly on the man's thigh. He picked up a couple of stones and put his leg high up. He then took the bottle of water he had with him and sprinkled some water on the man's face. The man opened his eyes. "Wake up buddy. Stay with me." "asdasd weertrgrhrhh" "What? I didn't catch that." "ghghghh..." "What was that?" The man's eyes shifted to a spot behind Chris. Chris suddenly felt movement behind him. The attacker was slowly and groggily getting to his feet. Chris's eyes widened as instinct took over. He took one of the stones he had brought for Richard's leg and swung. It connected squarely with the side of the man's head. The sickening thud rang Chris's head as the man fell back down, bleeding from the side of his head. "You... uh, you saved my life." Chris looked back at the man. "What? I... I should call 911." "No! No cops. Call this number instead." Chris called the number the guy gave. A gruff voice answered on the first ring. "Who's this?" "Chris. I uh... there's a guy here. He's injured bad. Someone was attacking him. He gave me this number to call." "What? Who is it?" Chris turned to the guy. "What did you say your name was?" "Richard Ginelli. Tell him it's the hammer." Chris took his hand off the phone and spoke into it again. "It's uh... the Hammer?" "WHAT? The boss? Where are you exactly?" "I'm at the corner of Athena and Caledonia drive. Near the BFB diner." "Stay there. Someone will be there in less than five minutes." "I should call 911." "No need. We'll be quicker. And the less the cops are involved in this the better. The attacker, where is he?" "Unconscious. He's here." "Good. We'll deal with him too." "I... what does that mean?" But the phone had already been disconnected. The Hammer had lain back down. Chris looked at the scene around him. 'Deal with him.' What did that mean? He looked at the two men. And the gun lying there as well. He looked at the wound on the man's leg. Probably a gunshot wound. What had he got himself into? He went up to the injured man. "I need to get out of here." "Stay. You will be rewarded." "What did he mean 'deal with him'?" Richard smiled. "You saw it. The guy was trying to kill me. What do you think it means?" "I can't be here. I should go." He looked at the two guys awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm gonna go." Richard smiled again. "Alright. Just know. I take care of people who help me. Anything you need, find me. Or, I'll find you." ***************************** A few months later Jacob walked up to his boss. "Here we go boss. I got it." Richard Ginelli stood up wincing a little. The damage was mostly fixed. But once in a while, he still felt pain in his leg. A little parting gift from the late Dwyane James. "Good. Now remember. He saved my life. I don't care what it takes. We have to make his every desire come true. Anything he ever wished for, he gets." "Are you sure boss? Some of these are a, uh..., a little weird and expensive." "No matter. Unless you want to set a price of what my life is worth." "No, that's not what I meant boss. Of course, it will be done." ********************** Chris had put the incident mainly out of his mind. As he was woken up by a bark, he realized something was different about that day. He looked at the time. 10 am. He had never before slept so late. His head was a bit heavy. Did he really drink that much last night? Okay so he had slept late and had a hangover. But that wasn't the only thing different. He sat up with a quick motion and looked at the massive Labrador sitting in his bedroom. That was what was different. He didn't own a dog. He got up, a little wary. "Shoo. Shoo. Go away dog." The dog growled a little and kept staring at Chris. Chris slowly moved to the wall and slowly inched towards the door. The dog turned its head following his movements. When he was at the door he jumped out and slammed the door shut behind him. How had the dog gotten into his house? He needed some water. And then he needed to figure out what to do. As he drank some water, his eyes wandered to a little note at his counter. 'You saved my life. Now, all that you ever wished for, will be granted. Love, Richard.' A dog? He had never wished for a dog. Well, once when he was like twelve years old. But at the time he was a kid and lived with his parents. Now he lived alone in an apartment. He didn't have space or time for a dog. But he couldn't just leave the poor thing locked in there. Well, dogs were really smart creatures. Maybe if he just left his door open, it would go to whatever its previous home was. And then it would be their problem. He slowly opened the bedroom door. The dog was still pretty much at the same place. Only looking at the door now. "Uh... Come on boy." The dog promptly got up and followed him. An very well trained dog.The dog went into the living room and sat down again. Staring at him. Chris opened the front door. "Go on then. Go to your home buddy." The dog stood still looking at him. "I..." He shrugged and went back to the kitchen. He had left the doors open and the dog would go out when it wanted. But maybe he should feed it. He wasn't sure what dogs ate, but they definitely drank milk. He went back to his kitchen and saw another note. One of his unused cabinets had a sticky on it. 'Dog Food.' Well at least they had been kind enough to leave some food. He opened the cabinet and stacks of dog food lay there. Enough for at least a couple of months. Also a nice red colored bowl marked 'Sawyer'. He filled up the bowl using the instructions on the back of the package. "Hey Sawyer, want some food?" The dog immediately got up and came to him. A rather well trained dog. He knew that exercise was important for dogs. So he took Sawyer to the nearby park. A woman who he had often seen around and secretly had an infatuation with came to talk to him. "Wow! What a good boy. I've seen you around but never with him?" "Oh yeah. I just got him today. He's a rescue." "Oh wow. Guys like you make the world a better place." He was smiling ear from ear as Ruby stayed with him a while and gave him some tips and tricks to play with his dog. He reached his home still smiling. "Sawyer, buddy, this might just work out." There was a knock on the door. Chris opened and a couple of well build men stood there. "Time for the next one." "Sorry, what?" "Your next wish." "What are you talking about?" "The boss found that list. And since he is indebted to you, he's gonna make those wishes come true." "What list? I don't know what you mean?" The man sighed. "Looks like we are going to have to do this the hard way."
	[WP] A mobster uses their city-wide influence to better people's lives. Typically in small ways.	“Good evening, Lieutenant.” The spark of a lighter illuminates the bottom half of the man’s face, and then quickly fades, leaving only the dim orange glow of a lit cigarette. Claire wants to go for her gun, but someone’s already behind her, pressing the harsh metallic end of a revolver into the small of her back. “Don’t make my associate shoot you,” the smoking man says. Claire can’t see his features; they’re concealed by shadow and the wide brim of a hat that seems like it just came off the set of noir movie. She can only see the man’s lips – thin and expressive, curving into a smirk as he tugs on the end of his cigarette. “What do you want?” Claire says. She’s tired – no, exhausted is more like it – and she figures if they wanted to kill her, they would have by now. No need to converse with the dead. “An exchange. Or maybe a gift. Depends how you look at it.” “And why,” Claire laughs harshly, “would I consider that from you? I know who you are. What you do.” The smoking man smiles. “That’s good” he says, shrouded by clouds of smoke, like some mythic beast from a fantasy. “I would be disappointed otherwise. But,” he pauses, leaning forward, “you will be entertain this notion.” Claire says nothing. The man nods, like he expected this reaction, and then says two words that send her world tumbling into chaos. “Enrico Marlow.” Claire freezes. It takes her probably a whole minute to draw a breath – a shuddering, heavy inhale that fills her senses with the smell of cheap Marlboro – all while the man continues to talk. “Your sister was sixteen, was she not?” he says, still sitting nonchalant in her own chair, one leg over the other, holding up his cigarette. “Enrico kept her for three days. And then, when they caught him, he turned to the Feds, helped them bust his old gang. He got full immunity in return. Witness protection. And not a day served for the...atrocities he inflicted upon your family. The wounds that he left.” Claire doesn’t care about the gun in her back; she’s drowning in her memories. She staggers over to a chair and falls down, breathless, cupping the sides of her head like that will ward off the pain of the past. She cups her head, just like she did all those years ago, when they were making the decision to take her sister off life-support. “It’s why you went into law enforcement, is it not?” the man continues. “To ensure that nothing like that could happen again? Over the years, you’ve told everyone that your decision was about justice...but here, in the dark, I think we can admit the truth, lieutenant. What you want...is revenge.” Claire looks up, trying to pierce the darkness with her gaze, and that seems to be the only response the smoking man needs. “Enrico is living under a new identity. He’s quite content. Good house, good car. He goes out every weekend, has a couple of pints. We could take care of that.” “No,” says Claire. The word comes out harsh, alien to her own ears. It’s like her own voice has changed, become rougher...and truer in the darkness. Because the man is right. She doesn’t want justice. She wants revenge. The man dips his head, his lips still curved into that enigmatic smirk. “Tomorrow,” he says, “you will go to your precinct and you will remove the evidence from Davidson’s case from lockup. You will take it to an address my associate will provide. In return, you will receive the details of Enrico’s new name and location, as well as any assistance in handling his situation.” Claire is silent, hunched in her chair. The man observes her carefully and then stands up, putting out his cigarette in the potted plant that Claire has stopped caring for long ago. “Do we have an accord?” he holds out his hand. Claire thinks that’s funny, that word. Accord. So archaic. But she grips his hand nonetheless. “We do,” she says. It doesn’t feel bad, this agreement. Doesn’t feel like she’s selling her soul. Instead, it’s...liberating. For years, she’s worked on the force, facing laughter and ridicule. A woman in an old boy’s club. She threw away her scholarships and her dreams. She did everything by the book. And it’s left her so hollow inside. Until now. Now...she’s alive. . . . . “She’ll make a good captain,” the man says later, when he’s seated in the warmth of his car. The cold November rain beats outside, coloring the city into a haze of neon lights. “We should vet her for mayor, too.” “Is that wise?” the associate asks from the driver’s seat. “What if she turns?” “I don’t think so,” the man laughs. He lights another cigarette, and this time, the glow illuminates his eyes – dark and acid yellow. “Once they cross the line, they never come back.” The associate grunts in agreement. “Who’s next?” the man asks after a minute of silence. “Katie Sacks,” his driver responds. “Waitress, two children. Has an abusive husband. She’s been trying to get away from him for years, but it’s never worked out. He nearly put her in the hospital two days back.” “Mmm,” the man smacks his lips. He straightens up in anticipation, the movement somehow jerky in the confines of his car. “Well let’s rid her of this burden then.” He smiles again, widely, his teeth sharp as nails in the chasm of his mouth. He laughs. “After all, I love doing good deeds.”	Chris walked along the road minding his own business. His phone buzzed and he stopped to check it. "Would you like to enroll in our membership prog..." He hung up, cursing a little in his heart. The light had turned red in the meanwhile and he stood there impatiently tapping his foot. If he hadn't got that phone call, he would have crossed the road and entered the diner. He would have missed what was about to happen. He would never have met Richard "The Hammer" Ginelli. The Gangster with a heart. And his life would have continue on its same boring path. But alas! The cars came shrieking down the road. The first car turned, its brakes shrieking in protest. The second car slammed into it sending it into a tailspin. Both cars lost control and went off the road into the little clearing. A man got out of the second car. Holding a gun in his hand, he quickly checked the first car looking for its driver. He banged on the glass motioning the driver to come out. "Come on Richard. Come out and face me like a man." "You're anything but a man Dwyane. Nothing worse than a man who goes against his word." "Call it what you will. You have been outsmarted. And now, you will die. The city will be mine and mine alone." The man called Richard limped out of the car, blood pouring from his leg. "Come on. On your knees." Dwayne kicked his bad leg and Richard fell to his knees. "Say your prayers Richard. This is the end." That was when Chris reached there. He was a good man. If anyone ever needed help, he would stop and help. And he ran to the two cars. He was of course, wholly unprepared for the execution about to happen right in front of him. "What the... Oh shit." Dwyane looked at him startled. The second of distraction was all Richard needed. He swung his fist, catching Dwyane in the groin region. His face turned purple as he double over in pain. Richard snatched the gun from him and swung it. The metal made a thump as it connected against the prone man's temple. He went down in a heap. Richard looked towards Chris, but the blood flow had made him weak and nauseous. He collapsed too. Chris looked around but there was no one there. He wanted to run away. This was obviously not just a case of vehicles losing control and an accident. But the guy needed help. Chris finally forced himself to go up to the wounded man. The leg was bleeding pretty bad and that would need to be fixed for the man to have any chance. Chris too off his tie and used it as a make shift tourniquet tying it firmly on the man's thigh. He picked up a couple of stones and put his leg high up. He then took the bottle of water he had with him and sprinkled some water on the man's face. The man opened his eyes. "Wake up buddy. Stay with me." "asdasd weertrgrhrhh" "What? I didn't catch that." "ghghghh..." "What was that?" The man's eyes shifted to a spot behind Chris. Chris suddenly felt movement behind him. The attacker was slowly and groggily getting to his feet. Chris's eyes widened as instinct took over. He took one of the stones he had brought for Richard's leg and swung. It connected squarely with the side of the man's head. The sickening thud rang Chris's head as the man fell back down, bleeding from the side of his head. "You... uh, you saved my life." Chris looked back at the man. "What? I... I should call 911." "No! No cops. Call this number instead." Chris called the number the guy gave. A gruff voice answered on the first ring. "Who's this?" "Chris. I uh... there's a guy here. He's injured bad. Someone was attacking him. He gave me this number to call." "What? Who is it?" Chris turned to the guy. "What did you say your name was?" "Richard Ginelli. Tell him it's the hammer." Chris took his hand off the phone and spoke into it again. "It's uh... the Hammer?" "WHAT? The boss? Where are you exactly?" "I'm at the corner of Athena and Caledonia drive. Near the BFB diner." "Stay there. Someone will be there in less than five minutes." "I should call 911." "No need. We'll be quicker. And the less the cops are involved in this the better. The attacker, where is he?" "Unconscious. He's here." "Good. We'll deal with him too." "I... what does that mean?" But the phone had already been disconnected. The Hammer had lain back down. Chris looked at the scene around him. 'Deal with him.' What did that mean? He looked at the two men. And the gun lying there as well. He looked at the wound on the man's leg. Probably a gunshot wound. What had he got himself into? He went up to the injured man. "I need to get out of here." "Stay. You will be rewarded." "What did he mean 'deal with him'?" Richard smiled. "You saw it. The guy was trying to kill me. What do you think it means?" "I can't be here. I should go." He looked at the two guys awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm gonna go." Richard smiled again. "Alright. Just know. I take care of people who help me. Anything you need, find me. Or, I'll find you." ***************************** A few months later Jacob walked up to his boss. "Here we go boss. I got it." Richard Ginelli stood up wincing a little. The damage was mostly fixed. But once in a while, he still felt pain in his leg. A little parting gift from the late Dwyane James. "Good. Now remember. He saved my life. I don't care what it takes. We have to make his every desire come true. Anything he ever wished for, he gets." "Are you sure boss? Some of these are a, uh..., a little weird and expensive." "No matter. Unless you want to set a price of what my life is worth." "No, that's not what I meant boss. Of course, it will be done." ********************** Chris had put the incident mainly out of his mind. As he was woken up by a bark, he realized something was different about that day. He looked at the time. 10 am. He had never before slept so late. His head was a bit heavy. Did he really drink that much last night? Okay so he had slept late and had a hangover. But that wasn't the only thing different. He sat up with a quick motion and looked at the massive Labrador sitting in his bedroom. That was what was different. He didn't own a dog. He got up, a little wary. "Shoo. Shoo. Go away dog." The dog growled a little and kept staring at Chris. Chris slowly moved to the wall and slowly inched towards the door. The dog turned its head following his movements. When he was at the door he jumped out and slammed the door shut behind him. How had the dog gotten into his house? He needed some water. And then he needed to figure out what to do. As he drank some water, his eyes wandered to a little note at his counter. 'You saved my life. Now, all that you ever wished for, will be granted. Love, Richard.' A dog? He had never wished for a dog. Well, once when he was like twelve years old. But at the time he was a kid and lived with his parents. Now he lived alone in an apartment. He didn't have space or time for a dog. But he couldn't just leave the poor thing locked in there. Well, dogs were really smart creatures. Maybe if he just left his door open, it would go to whatever its previous home was. And then it would be their problem. He slowly opened the bedroom door. The dog was still pretty much at the same place. Only looking at the door now. "Uh... Come on boy." The dog promptly got up and followed him. An very well trained dog.The dog went into the living room and sat down again. Staring at him. Chris opened the front door. "Go on then. Go to your home buddy." The dog stood still looking at him. "I..." He shrugged and went back to the kitchen. He had left the doors open and the dog would go out when it wanted. But maybe he should feed it. He wasn't sure what dogs ate, but they definitely drank milk. He went back to his kitchen and saw another note. One of his unused cabinets had a sticky on it. 'Dog Food.' Well at least they had been kind enough to leave some food. He opened the cabinet and stacks of dog food lay there. Enough for at least a couple of months. Also a nice red colored bowl marked 'Sawyer'. He filled up the bowl using the instructions on the back of the package. "Hey Sawyer, want some food?" The dog immediately got up and came to him. A rather well trained dog. He knew that exercise was important for dogs. So he took Sawyer to the nearby park. A woman who he had often seen around and secretly had an infatuation with came to talk to him. "Wow! What a good boy. I've seen you around but never with him?" "Oh yeah. I just got him today. He's a rescue." "Oh wow. Guys like you make the world a better place." He was smiling ear from ear as Ruby stayed with him a while and gave him some tips and tricks to play with his dog. He reached his home still smiling. "Sawyer, buddy, this might just work out." There was a knock on the door. Chris opened and a couple of well build men stood there. "Time for the next one." "Sorry, what?" "Your next wish." "What are you talking about?" "The boss found that list. And since he is indebted to you, he's gonna make those wishes come true." "What list? I don't know what you mean?" The man sighed. "Looks like we are going to have to do this the hard way."
	[WP] All your life you’ve found that the weather reflected the emotional state you were in. Having a good day it was pleasantly sunny, feeling sad and it rained. You’ve managed to keep your emotions in check. That is until today, as your girlfriend left you, your dog died and your house burnt down.	'It burns' How odd. That I should remember those words as I watched it burn. It hadn't been much of a house, more of a hut really. I'd built it after the war, after the bloodshed and destruction. I was tired of men, tired of the constant maneuvering for power by nobles in their great game, trying to rise higher by crushing those beneath. The battles hadn't been noble, hadn't been to defend the poor and protect the innocent. There hadn't been glory as I'd once imagined. Just blood. Just death. 'In wars boy, fools kill other fools for foolish causes' Father had said that, he had known but I hadn't listened. 'It burns' Again. Those were Persephone's words, my dearest even now. How could she not be? All those years she'd been with me, away from almost any living soul, far from the grand cities she had been raised in just to live with one broken soldier. Now she was gone and had left only the note. 'I told you once that a day would come when I'd have to leave, a duty I could not ignore. My heart burns, it burns to leave you, but I do what I must. It burns. Forgive me' She had said she would leave, years ago, but it hadn't mattered. I haven't even asked what her grand duty was since it hadn't mattered. When she left, wherever she went, I'd go to. Then she did go. And I didn't know until she was too far gone. I'd thought she had gone to the village of Watch Hill, she'd done that sometimes and always returned a few days later. This time she didn't return and when I left to look I found only the note. I watched the fire and ignored the storm. It raged around me, a hundred forks of lightning falling again and again as if the creator himself thought to tear the world apart. fitting, my world has fallen apart The winds screamed and hail crashed, boulders and trees flew in that ring while I stood in calmness of the eye. Calm. I wonder how that feels. I've forgotten. It should've been dark, but the lightning blazed. It should've been quite, but the thunder roared. Hopper was in that fire. I'd found the wolf pup a year after coming to the Westwood. Persephone couldn't bear children, that pup had been almost a son. But it had been 15 years and he'd grown old, he lay within the pyre. A funeral fit for a King I'd waited long enough, the fire looked hot enough, it was time. I forgive you, dearest. I stepped into the flames and lay down beside him. Hours later the storm calmed. A ring of destruction in the Westwood, leagues wide, left a single ring of grass at its center. Within it lay the broken ruins of a house. And within those ruins lay a mans body and a wolfs. Horribly burned, the man lay at the heart of it all, a calm stillness on his face. &#x200B;	My stupid ex didn’t think it was enough to leave me when she knew I was planning to propose, she had to take it one step further. I was at work when she texted me that ominous message, “I’m leaving you, you won’t have anything left”. I managed to get the rest of the day off when I explained the situation to my boss through tears. It started raining then but it wasn’t too hard, I was still able to keep my self under control. Then I got home. The fire had gone out but the place had been burned to the ground. The rain began to come down harder but it wasn’t as bad as it was going to be. As I looked through the ruins looking for any valuables that may have survived when I found him.... my little puppy Milo had perished in the fire. His little tufts of black hair had been singed off and his adorable eyes had melted through. At that moment the rain began to grow more powerful. At that moment I was weeping with not only sadness but indescribable anger. Thunder began to strike everywhere around me while sewers began to fill and the ground flooded. The wave that extended out of New York that day flooded most of the state in up to 10 feet of water. It took me a whole day to calm down. I’m glad to know however that my girlfriend died in the flood so that is some consolation....
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	5 a.m. 20 April 1949 I feel nothing. Compared to everyone around me, I feel nothing. The death and birth of people around me. The war that came again and took its toll on humanity, it seems like the only natural thing to happen around here. They let me wear this uniform and remain in this underground castle but I was a prisoner. Not only in physical sense but also mentally. These secret agents don't want the world to know that I am alive still. I was supposed to have died long ago, but in reality they had managed to capture me. They kept me alive to extract all the information they can extract from a man of my position. They are portraying me as a villain. I am. As I am being escorted to an underground bunker where a German court will be held, the clock strikes 6 times. It sounds like the Big Ben is above me. The American officer smirks at my state and says "Happy death day to you, Adolf!" It was also my birthday. 60 Earth years. Earth years? I mean years. All these wars and explosions have sped up the rotations of Earth. How do I know that? I just know... I am supposed to be only 30 years as per the plan. The plan. Yes, I had a plan for myself. I have a plan for everyone! Wait what? I just felt something. Oh this pleasure!This lovely pain in my head! I hear it! I hear it all! The voices of billions of people, a few of whom already blindly worship me! "Mein Furher!" They say!The prayers and the plotting. The twisted grime under their nails, the smelly animal sweat, the crusty flaky skin, their withering pain, that satisfaction of a life diminishing under my command. It felt so good! It was deafening. It was familiar. I remember! The suffering. Yes! I remember! I thought I would be different, but I still am the same. I am still godly and in control! Even when they thought they caught up to me by capturing me, they know nothing! I thrive in chaos. I created everything. I just realised that even without the knowledge of my powers, these humans hung on to every word I said. I used my powers without them knowing. Without my knowing. Now I was being led to this primitive gallow. As if that is going to happen... I took away their lives in one fell swoop. Puppets! They are my toys and will forever be. I am not a villain, I just do crowd control. Too many of these rats and I need to gas them down. As I ascend into my plane of existence, I feel great. I feel everything. EVERYTHING!	Ooops Totally forgot to check the back of the car before backing out of the driveway, now they are pinning multiple similar deaths on me just because they took place in a similar neighborhood and the culprit has not been found. Now I'm stuck in jail on my 30th birthday and they tell me they are going to kill me? I smoked some royal cookies automatic and awaited my death. "What the fuck bob, How'd you get a big ass blunt and weed in here?! I was pretty sure Theirs a camera over there? How?!" My security guard, or as society puts it my 'prison guard' ran off to check the cameras and ran back scream hysterically "Ho-Wha-You?! You made weed out of thin air?! How did you do that?!" I shrugged, It was a good thing I was still in this mortal body since if I was back in my old body I would not get high with something this week, or even get high at all I suppose. "Honestly that's illegal, I'm going to have to put in prison for life because weed is apparently the devil's creation" I raised my eyebrow, was he the one that was high or was I the one that was high? "Whatever dude, I'm a bit hungry so lead me to the cafeteria, that Joe makes really good brownies" I left my prison cell by just walking through the door and headed to the cafeteria and got myself some brownies. &#x200B; "Prisoner! return to your cell!" They tried tackling me a few times but I dodged them easily and made them high with my weed beams. I stopped smoking for a moment, "Wait, Something something about the moral of the story." I looked to the person reading this right now and spoke "When your backing out of your drive-way, please look to see if anyone is near. I'm also a bit sorry about killing the kid who'll make half-life 3 in the future." I then flew off into the distance spreading weed to every human, the end. &#x200B;
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	I remember. I remember the man whose limbs I amputated at the joints. I cut his arms off at the elbow, his legs at the knees, and forced him to hobble across the floor on stumps of bone, like a dog. He would’ve just gone limp, dragged himself across the floor on his leash, but I strapped a pressure sensor to his chest and wired it to a car battery. His screams were wondrous. Why can’t they understand? He needed to become this. Needed to be who he already was on the inside. A dog. A diseased animal. That’s all any of them are. I remember the woman whom I nailed to a chair. I cut out her tongue, her eyes, chopped off her ears, her nose, her fingers. Pulled out her teeth, put a brace in her mouth, slid a feeding tube down her throat, and just saw how long she lived in that state. She screamed for the first five days, when she was conscious. Then she moaned for another four. Then she stopped making noise altogether, but I checked her pulse, she lived for another six days! Remarkable! Even mutilated as she was, as open to infection...it was almost admirable. In a pathetic sort of way. Like watching a rabbit run after it’s already gotten a deep puncture wound from a cat. The rabbit is dead, it just doesn’t realize yet. Or cutting the head off a cicada. The body persists, but the mind is gone. I remember the couple who were forced to eat one another. I abducted them separately, the female first. I lopped off her leg, all the way to the hip, and put it on ice. Then I sent a message to her boyfriend, and waited for him to come. Meathead didn’t even call the police. Still, I should count myself lucky he had a glass jaw. He was quite the specimen. Anyway, I took his leg too. Kept the boy and girl each in their own cell. Clean as I could make them, of course; THESE two I didn’t want dying of infection. My days as a surgeon served me well. Where was I? Right, right. Hah. I took the boy’s leg, roasted it over a spit, and put it in the girl’s cell. Then vice versa with the girl’s leg. Made sure they held their shape, so the poor lovebirds knew exactly what they were getting. Then I starved them for a week. Just one week! I know exactly when they broke, because I was filming them. The boy broke first. He nibbled her thigh, then gave in completely and tore into her flesh like it was his last meal. The girl lasted two days longer, but she surrendered too. THAT was some of my best work. I don’t know what exactly was going through their heads—maybe each thought the other was dead, or maybe they held out hope right until the end. At any rate, the boy attacked me when I tried to clean his cell (hard to adapt to shitting in a bucket when you’ve got just the one leg), so I was forced to kill him. I served his lover his head on a literal silver platter, but that pushed her too far; she pierced her wrists with a spike of bone she’d hidden from his leg. Isn’t it amazing? Humans, they think they’re so evolved, so sophisticated, and yet I can break them so easily. They’re just meat. Meat and instinct. They are fun, though. They sent a psychologist to interview me. Not sure what the point was, since they’d already decided to ice me. He talked a big game, I could see the glint of smug superiority in his eyes the entire time he was talking. “I’m better than you, because I don’t kill people.” That’s what he was thinking. Little prick fainted when I bit my tongue off and spat it at him. They didn’t send anyone else to talk to me after that. Just as well. None of them could possibly understand. Then the day came. They strapped me to the table. They stood on pointless fucking ceremony, they acted all somber and serious, but I know, deep down, they loved killing me just as much as I loved killing them. They pushed the drugs into my veins, one after the other. I wasn’t awake for the latter ones, of course, but on some level I felt them anyway. Or remembered after. Because there was an after for me. Oh yes. I woke up, here, in this non-place. Heaven. This metaphysical idea. My life among them was the best decision I ever made. I remember who I was before living that life: so reserved, so hesitant. So afraid of making the slightest change, giving even the slightest confirmation of my presence, my attention. Not anymore. I have so many ideas now. I will show them what they are. Worms. Dogs. Rabbits. Cicadas. This is their purpose. This is my Will. It’s going to be a lot of fun.	Ooops Totally forgot to check the back of the car before backing out of the driveway, now they are pinning multiple similar deaths on me just because they took place in a similar neighborhood and the culprit has not been found. Now I'm stuck in jail on my 30th birthday and they tell me they are going to kill me? I smoked some royal cookies automatic and awaited my death. "What the fuck bob, How'd you get a big ass blunt and weed in here?! I was pretty sure Theirs a camera over there? How?!" My security guard, or as society puts it my 'prison guard' ran off to check the cameras and ran back scream hysterically "Ho-Wha-You?! You made weed out of thin air?! How did you do that?!" I shrugged, It was a good thing I was still in this mortal body since if I was back in my old body I would not get high with something this week, or even get high at all I suppose. "Honestly that's illegal, I'm going to have to put in prison for life because weed is apparently the devil's creation" I raised my eyebrow, was he the one that was high or was I the one that was high? "Whatever dude, I'm a bit hungry so lead me to the cafeteria, that Joe makes really good brownies" I left my prison cell by just walking through the door and headed to the cafeteria and got myself some brownies. &#x200B; "Prisoner! return to your cell!" They tried tackling me a few times but I dodged them easily and made them high with my weed beams. I stopped smoking for a moment, "Wait, Something something about the moral of the story." I looked to the person reading this right now and spoke "When your backing out of your drive-way, please look to see if anyone is near. I'm also a bit sorry about killing the kid who'll make half-life 3 in the future." I then flew off into the distance spreading weed to every human, the end. &#x200B;
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Pain. I see pain and brutality and violence and greed and gluttony. I knew my creations would excel, they would dominate and lead. But i refused to look into the future, into their future. Little did I know that they would determine everyone's future. A rare specimen of my creation, I watched them grow. Patiently I watched as they lost their way, as they found their way and lost it over and over again. I saw them discover fire. I saw the violence of their barbarity. I saw the gradual sharpening of their minds. I saw their desires. I saw their idols. I saw their strongest tear apart the weak and I saw them idolize those who exerted violence. Still, I refused to see the future. Simply because I was curious. I watched them colonize, I watched them grow exponentially. I saw them fight over their gods but refused to interject. I watched in amusement and in horror. They created empires and civilizations. Yet they never grew past their base nature. I watched the wars, I watched the creation of weapons and their revolutions. I watched them struggle to contain the consequences of their reckless use of the earth. I watched them suffer the plague and nature's wrath. It amused me how my smartest creations learnt nothing from their mistakes. And I looked away. I put my mind to other things. I refused to look at them as they began the conquest of even more violence. They used my name for terrible deeds and begged forgiveness after. When I looked again, I saw their true power. They created weapons of war, obliterated millions in a matter of moments. They created a body count that astounded me. Not even nature's wrath could exact such terrible losses. And then I grew curious. What was it about them? Did i even understand my ultimate creation? Or did I doom all of my creations because I refused to look into humankind's future. I chose to understand, not as my self but as one of them. I did not wish for instant clarity, I wished to learn their ways, through slow and gradual development. I projected myself into a seed of life and took birth. I experienced the inquisitive nature of a child, of course I never remembered those until now, now that I am myself. I experienced loss of my guardians. I saw myself dragged into a cold and lonely world. I grew up in a broken system, mired by corruption and even more senseless violence. I gradually felt less and less, until the pain was numbed completely. Until the chemistry in my brain seemed to fuzz out. I stopped feeling, I saw and I processed and I understood, but I simply didnot feel. And so I killed. I butchered and cared for nothing, took lives with no hesitation. This is how I feel. In my true visage I refuse to feel. I am all knowing and all powerful but I am impartial. I do not interject or assist. I simply watch. &#x200B; As a human I felt many things, except for one. And so I search inside my human form and I feel it for the first time. Something my human form had never felt before. Fear. Fear of death. I can feel the heartbeat rising and feeling. A small grain of emotion in a decayed, hollowed body. I feel the cold, the terror, the prospect of death and the chaos it brings to the mind. Is this what it means to be human, so aware and clever yet so frightened? Is this what they have subjected their kind to, what they always try to escape from to no avail? The fear of death? &#x200B; I understand them now, my true form does not fear. They do. And fear is powerful. I created my ultimate creation in my image but I instilled fear without realizing. And so I drove them to do things I would not have comprehended. I gave them happiness and joy and purity but I also gave them a mortal shell and they experienced fear. &#x200B; So I understand now why they did it all. They did it to avoid fear. To inflict than to experience. To kill than be killed. And suddenly I can justify them. I created a monstrous species with a major flaw. They turned that flaw into their greatest strength and conquered everything they saw. I cannot intervene then, for I was mistaken. I didnot understand their motives or cared. I see them try, they put in effort and most of them try to make life better. They love and ignore fear in pursuit of that which makes them happy. &#x200B; I have to experience one last thing now. Death. I see the guards approaching my cell and know that I must experience this. I tap into my human form and observe as I provide mental consciousness. I let my human body be dragged across the empty halls. I see the injection pierce my body and feel the final moments of terror until there is nothing but darkness. &#x200B; Life and death. I have come full circle	Ooops Totally forgot to check the back of the car before backing out of the driveway, now they are pinning multiple similar deaths on me just because they took place in a similar neighborhood and the culprit has not been found. Now I'm stuck in jail on my 30th birthday and they tell me they are going to kill me? I smoked some royal cookies automatic and awaited my death. "What the fuck bob, How'd you get a big ass blunt and weed in here?! I was pretty sure Theirs a camera over there? How?!" My security guard, or as society puts it my 'prison guard' ran off to check the cameras and ran back scream hysterically "Ho-Wha-You?! You made weed out of thin air?! How did you do that?!" I shrugged, It was a good thing I was still in this mortal body since if I was back in my old body I would not get high with something this week, or even get high at all I suppose. "Honestly that's illegal, I'm going to have to put in prison for life because weed is apparently the devil's creation" I raised my eyebrow, was he the one that was high or was I the one that was high? "Whatever dude, I'm a bit hungry so lead me to the cafeteria, that Joe makes really good brownies" I left my prison cell by just walking through the door and headed to the cafeteria and got myself some brownies. &#x200B; "Prisoner! return to your cell!" They tried tackling me a few times but I dodged them easily and made them high with my weed beams. I stopped smoking for a moment, "Wait, Something something about the moral of the story." I looked to the person reading this right now and spoke "When your backing out of your drive-way, please look to see if anyone is near. I'm also a bit sorry about killing the kid who'll make half-life 3 in the future." I then flew off into the distance spreading weed to every human, the end. &#x200B;
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	The morning rotations of the prison commune wake me in a hot sweat, I thought by now I'd be used to the environment and routine of the prison, guess some things never get old eh. I wipe my brow and situate myself to the side of the bed. God id kill to wake up in my own bedroom again, ironically enough this prison is starting to feel like home anyway, might as well soften up to the thought of institutionalization, seeing that I'll be spending my dying breath in this god forsaken criminal daycare. I let out a sigh as I bring myself to my feet, the cement floor cold as ice, soothing my aching feet. Today is but another day in my shitty routine, one less day of the time i have left, whatever. I carry myself half asleep to the stainless steel toilet in the corner of my cell. Man am I glad that I don't have a cell mate. I plop myself down onto the ice cold bowl and begin to take my scheduled morning shit. As I sit on top of the bowl releasing my daily mud baby, a flood of memories slices into my brain like a hot knife through butter, my ears start ringing with the sheer intensity of my neurons exploding. "Wait fuck I'm God"	Ooops Totally forgot to check the back of the car before backing out of the driveway, now they are pinning multiple similar deaths on me just because they took place in a similar neighborhood and the culprit has not been found. Now I'm stuck in jail on my 30th birthday and they tell me they are going to kill me? I smoked some royal cookies automatic and awaited my death. "What the fuck bob, How'd you get a big ass blunt and weed in here?! I was pretty sure Theirs a camera over there? How?!" My security guard, or as society puts it my 'prison guard' ran off to check the cameras and ran back scream hysterically "Ho-Wha-You?! You made weed out of thin air?! How did you do that?!" I shrugged, It was a good thing I was still in this mortal body since if I was back in my old body I would not get high with something this week, or even get high at all I suppose. "Honestly that's illegal, I'm going to have to put in prison for life because weed is apparently the devil's creation" I raised my eyebrow, was he the one that was high or was I the one that was high? "Whatever dude, I'm a bit hungry so lead me to the cafeteria, that Joe makes really good brownies" I left my prison cell by just walking through the door and headed to the cafeteria and got myself some brownies. &#x200B; "Prisoner! return to your cell!" They tried tackling me a few times but I dodged them easily and made them high with my weed beams. I stopped smoking for a moment, "Wait, Something something about the moral of the story." I looked to the person reading this right now and spoke "When your backing out of your drive-way, please look to see if anyone is near. I'm also a bit sorry about killing the kid who'll make half-life 3 in the future." I then flew off into the distance spreading weed to every human, the end. &#x200B;
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	All hell has broken loose. My mother has sent me a letter saying she regrets having me. My father isn't here any more. And i'm on death row. I don't know how many times in my life I could tell you i'd end up gaining the foremost seat upon the thrown of cold-cut death, but I do know that life here on earth is very harsh. I grew up attending an all-boy Catholic school. So this placement seems even more out of the ordinary. Prefects would always announce my kind nature, despite this, I was a very lonely boy. No one was my friend. Now reflecting upon what I have done, I did not deserve any young chap to be my pal. Life has been very excruciating through the loneliness. A battle only the lonely will ever encounter. It is a toughness and a toughness that could amount to leather. Try taking a bite out of that and see what happens. A few teeth will fall out, and maybe some of your sanity too. I have been running around in my mind for hours and days throughout my life. All this thinking, to come to any empty, unsolicited conclusion that offers nothing. Because there is nothing to do about it. How I wished to be saved by god, maybe thought the prefects would get involved, but I was definitely wrong. And to now know that I have come here, to experience what these humans go through. Their mundane tasks. Nights out. All the sentiments a human feels: jovial to melancholy; peace to pain. Iv'e experienced it all. Every human has, and I wonder how they don't go mad or snap from the brink with these erratic feelings. Well, I guess there are some, like me, but it is not deemed normal to have enraged erratic feelings, and to of coarse act upon them. For many years on this planet I have encountered some great friends. Some beautiful people, with beautiful souls. I wonder where they are now in life. I always had a strong feeling one of them could be a law enforcement worker. I hope the one who is escorting me to the chair isn't one of the lads. The shame will have already sucked the ever living life out of me, and announced me dead right then and there. Or maybe that is a good thing. I don't know if I should apologize for what I have done. The only thing I can say is may god have mercy on the heart-wretched souls like me, because we are all human in the end. Aren't we?	Ooops Totally forgot to check the back of the car before backing out of the driveway, now they are pinning multiple similar deaths on me just because they took place in a similar neighborhood and the culprit has not been found. Now I'm stuck in jail on my 30th birthday and they tell me they are going to kill me? I smoked some royal cookies automatic and awaited my death. "What the fuck bob, How'd you get a big ass blunt and weed in here?! I was pretty sure Theirs a camera over there? How?!" My security guard, or as society puts it my 'prison guard' ran off to check the cameras and ran back scream hysterically "Ho-Wha-You?! You made weed out of thin air?! How did you do that?!" I shrugged, It was a good thing I was still in this mortal body since if I was back in my old body I would not get high with something this week, or even get high at all I suppose. "Honestly that's illegal, I'm going to have to put in prison for life because weed is apparently the devil's creation" I raised my eyebrow, was he the one that was high or was I the one that was high? "Whatever dude, I'm a bit hungry so lead me to the cafeteria, that Joe makes really good brownies" I left my prison cell by just walking through the door and headed to the cafeteria and got myself some brownies. &#x200B; "Prisoner! return to your cell!" They tried tackling me a few times but I dodged them easily and made them high with my weed beams. I stopped smoking for a moment, "Wait, Something something about the moral of the story." I looked to the person reading this right now and spoke "When your backing out of your drive-way, please look to see if anyone is near. I'm also a bit sorry about killing the kid who'll make half-life 3 in the future." I then flew off into the distance spreading weed to every human, the end. &#x200B;
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	I am about to turn Thirty. I am also about to Die. I wonder if it makes sense, that I will never reach the age where people start to settle down. It seems ironic, somehow. My Father settled at 30. My mother was two and a half years younger... &#x200B; We all expect our lives to be simple. We expect them to be nothing but what others expect of us before we mature. And when we’ve decided we’re mature, we agree that those things were what we wanted, too. At least, that’s what I expected. ... Time passes slowly in the block. Sometimes, people come in, and sometimes, people leave. I used to notice a difference between the two, as we all measure things by time, and people tend to make things more entertaining. They stopped doing so when I slipped back into my memories. Some say it seemed like dementia. But really, who’s to tell? Time is not a basely human construct. It is, however, notable, that the first time I noticed Time was when I was three years old. She was pacing back and forth around this circular thing, and I noticed, when I looked at her-- things changed. Entertainment, you could say. She sped up as I looked away. And slowed down as I looked towards. Towards her beauty: have I mentioned? her perception of me seems so based on the fact that she is beautiful. Because as she paces, slows, stops, and stares Her hair below her jawline, swings dainty and sweet but her lips-- They are the curve of a clock, shifting slightly, But when I look back and forth from her, they shift faster. And yet, time goes slowly now. I wonder how I lost that wonderful warmth, her smile. They say it is my fault-- I disagree. There is no fault in life, my Father taught me that. Perhaps this is what makes me different than most, than the “we’s” of this world: Simply, I did not do what others perceived as the “plan”. The “American Dream” is a rationalization, a justification for lack of dreams. My dog is about sixteen now. She still doesn’t have object permanence. &#x200B; I realize I am about to turn Thirty. The clock ticks down... &#x200B; My dog isn't even mine now, I realize that. They took her from me. They have taken everything. &#x200B; Or was that me? In a fit of rage, I must say, I forgot everything. &#x200B; I even forgot my Time.	Ooops Totally forgot to check the back of the car before backing out of the driveway, now they are pinning multiple similar deaths on me just because they took place in a similar neighborhood and the culprit has not been found. Now I'm stuck in jail on my 30th birthday and they tell me they are going to kill me? I smoked some royal cookies automatic and awaited my death. "What the fuck bob, How'd you get a big ass blunt and weed in here?! I was pretty sure Theirs a camera over there? How?!" My security guard, or as society puts it my 'prison guard' ran off to check the cameras and ran back scream hysterically "Ho-Wha-You?! You made weed out of thin air?! How did you do that?!" I shrugged, It was a good thing I was still in this mortal body since if I was back in my old body I would not get high with something this week, or even get high at all I suppose. "Honestly that's illegal, I'm going to have to put in prison for life because weed is apparently the devil's creation" I raised my eyebrow, was he the one that was high or was I the one that was high? "Whatever dude, I'm a bit hungry so lead me to the cafeteria, that Joe makes really good brownies" I left my prison cell by just walking through the door and headed to the cafeteria and got myself some brownies. &#x200B; "Prisoner! return to your cell!" They tried tackling me a few times but I dodged them easily and made them high with my weed beams. I stopped smoking for a moment, "Wait, Something something about the moral of the story." I looked to the person reading this right now and spoke "When your backing out of your drive-way, please look to see if anyone is near. I'm also a bit sorry about killing the kid who'll make half-life 3 in the future." I then flew off into the distance spreading weed to every human, the end. &#x200B;
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Well. That explains a lot. I’m God. Weird, huh? Who woulda thought that God would be a deranged serial killer waiting to be executed on his 30th birthday? (To be fair, the men I killed were the scum of the earth. Child abusers, rapists, other murderers.) Ahhh, humans. Strange, lovable, creatures. Quite entertaining too. Too bad I’m not going to be one for much longer. It’s been interesting. I fidget a little bit, waiting for the guard to retrieve me from my cell. A few moments pass, and he comes to fetch me. I’m led into a sterile room that smells of alcohol. There’s a window to another room. I see journalists and reporters. I don’t care about that. I see my human parents, tears flowing from their eyes. I hold back my own tears, pained by their anguish. “Do you have any last words?” asks the doctor’s coat-clad executioner. “The Lord God is always with you,” I say, ignoring their puzzled faces. I’m strapped into the gurney, so this is it, I think. A needle pierced my arm and everything goes black. A few moments later, my view shifts to above the execution room. The executioner pronounces me dead. I wave my hand. My human form shimmers and fades away, leaving a cross and a note that says “THE HEAVENLY FATHER LOVES YOU”, confounding them. I smile in satisfaction.	Ooops Totally forgot to check the back of the car before backing out of the driveway, now they are pinning multiple similar deaths on me just because they took place in a similar neighborhood and the culprit has not been found. Now I'm stuck in jail on my 30th birthday and they tell me they are going to kill me? I smoked some royal cookies automatic and awaited my death. "What the fuck bob, How'd you get a big ass blunt and weed in here?! I was pretty sure Theirs a camera over there? How?!" My security guard, or as society puts it my 'prison guard' ran off to check the cameras and ran back scream hysterically "Ho-Wha-You?! You made weed out of thin air?! How did you do that?!" I shrugged, It was a good thing I was still in this mortal body since if I was back in my old body I would not get high with something this week, or even get high at all I suppose. "Honestly that's illegal, I'm going to have to put in prison for life because weed is apparently the devil's creation" I raised my eyebrow, was he the one that was high or was I the one that was high? "Whatever dude, I'm a bit hungry so lead me to the cafeteria, that Joe makes really good brownies" I left my prison cell by just walking through the door and headed to the cafeteria and got myself some brownies. &#x200B; "Prisoner! return to your cell!" They tried tackling me a few times but I dodged them easily and made them high with my weed beams. I stopped smoking for a moment, "Wait, Something something about the moral of the story." I looked to the person reading this right now and spoke "When your backing out of your drive-way, please look to see if anyone is near. I'm also a bit sorry about killing the kid who'll make half-life 3 in the future." I then flew off into the distance spreading weed to every human, the end. &#x200B;
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Five minutes till midnight. They say they have a metaphorical clock that ticks closer the more humanity stumbles its way towards an inevitable end and that five minutes to midnight means that things are not going well. Funny thing about that tendency for self destruction is that it was something that I never had. I may have made them in my image but they've progressed in ways that even I couldn't have even begun to fathom. I made a world for them and they decided that it was too small...so they pushed the boundaries to seek what was beyond their proverbial bird cage. Four minutes till midnight. Honestly, I'm impressed, some call it arrogance and others claim that sometimes humanity goes too far and 'plays God'. That turn of phrase always amused me... I mean, why wouldn't they play God? Most children want to be just like their fathers, right? They should be commended, finding ways to shape the world and to seek what lies beyond the scope of their vision. Three minutes till midnight. So, for once, I thought God should play at being human... I wanted to see it from their perspective. Admittedly, this is not what I had imagined. But despite what they believe, even I am not infallible. In order to get this right, I made sure I was a blank slate. The idea was simple, the knowledge of who I am leaves me just before birth and it returns just before death...so it would seem I'm not getting out of this. Two minutes till midnight. I only barely y remember how it happened, to be honest; a troubled childhood, a few bullies and an absent father... I see how difficult it can be for them. Nevertheless, I am guilty of the crime, ten murders over five years...five long years without bring caught and then one small slip up and I'm where I am now. And now with the burden of knowledge. One minute till midnight. Do I feel guilt for these crimes? I'm not entirely sure; this was always a possibility and I was prepared to accept it. But this is their world, not mine. I may have gave the guideline, but I didn't set them in stone...but I sure am going to play by them. And now it's time. The midnight hands. The empty silence is interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway as the guard came closer. The door swung open, the man pulling me to my feet as he led me on what seemed to be the longest walk of my life. The man sat me upon the chair, taking care to secure the straps as he stepped back. Curiosity overcame me as I looked back at him. "How does it feel to play God?" I asked him, awaiting his response as he stared down his nose at me. No answer came but I chuckled to myself as I spoke out one last time. "May God have mercy on my soul."	Ooops Totally forgot to check the back of the car before backing out of the driveway, now they are pinning multiple similar deaths on me just because they took place in a similar neighborhood and the culprit has not been found. Now I'm stuck in jail on my 30th birthday and they tell me they are going to kill me? I smoked some royal cookies automatic and awaited my death. "What the fuck bob, How'd you get a big ass blunt and weed in here?! I was pretty sure Theirs a camera over there? How?!" My security guard, or as society puts it my 'prison guard' ran off to check the cameras and ran back scream hysterically "Ho-Wha-You?! You made weed out of thin air?! How did you do that?!" I shrugged, It was a good thing I was still in this mortal body since if I was back in my old body I would not get high with something this week, or even get high at all I suppose. "Honestly that's illegal, I'm going to have to put in prison for life because weed is apparently the devil's creation" I raised my eyebrow, was he the one that was high or was I the one that was high? "Whatever dude, I'm a bit hungry so lead me to the cafeteria, that Joe makes really good brownies" I left my prison cell by just walking through the door and headed to the cafeteria and got myself some brownies. &#x200B; "Prisoner! return to your cell!" They tried tackling me a few times but I dodged them easily and made them high with my weed beams. I stopped smoking for a moment, "Wait, Something something about the moral of the story." I looked to the person reading this right now and spoke "When your backing out of your drive-way, please look to see if anyone is near. I'm also a bit sorry about killing the kid who'll make half-life 3 in the future." I then flew off into the distance spreading weed to every human, the end. &#x200B;
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	It was around 3am when I awoke from my sudden realization. I sat up on the bunk they had given me. I thought to myself how much of a morbid joke it was when they actually obliged to my only wish to be executed on my birthday. The mortal version of me was quite the sentimental type, despite the lives I took. All of the lives I had taken were people who had cheated, killed, exploited, or caused mass distress. From unscrupulous pharmaceutical CEOs who had bent the law by lobbying politicians so they can sell their poison to the masses to those would who would prey on the young. The mortal version of me sought to bring justice to those who had evaded the flawed systems way of punishing those who do harm. I would not realize the irony of that venture until I was 30 in mortal years. It was quite sad really. They thought I created them in “my image” ha. If only they knew the truth. I gave them the resources and necessities to become something much better. I also gave them free will. The ultimate gift. You see, if not for that it would have been the equivalent of mindless drones doing the bidding of their omnipotent god. I did not want that, it would have been the most boring ego boost a god could ask for. I wanted them to use their gifts to enhance themselves and to learn the wonderful mysteries my domain offered them. They could have become my equals, no they could have become something much better. If they chose to just set aside greed. Ah yes, greed. One of the many byproducts of freewill. The very thing that has singlehandedly slowed the progress of their race. But, not all of them are so aware of how much it truly is slowing them down, but they will see very soon. I look around me and see the majority of the other mortals slumbering. I sense a guard walk up and notices me not following suit. Our eyes met and at that moment I saw into his soul. Every sin that he has ever committed was as clear as ever. The darkness that has attached to his soul has injected itself into a state of rot. It was a sight of true disgust, yet his mortal self was not aware of how much darkness was truly inside of him. “Why are you awake inmate?! Go back to sleep!” “Luke, do you think your wife knows?” “EXCUSE ME INMATE?!” “That you killed your own son. You know, the one you masterfully framed as a suicide by overdose. Because you found out he was fucking her.” His jaw dropped and he stuttered. “You came home early one day because there was no traffic on the way home, walked upstairs and heard moaning, only to hear your son fucking your new wife. You were filled with rage and wanted to pull out your 12 gauge you kept hidden in the garage. But, as you were about to do so. You stopped and just realized you would be sitting exactly where I’am today. So instead you formulated a plan, that involved spiking your sons marijuana with fentanyl while he was out. Because the state you live in, cannabis is illegal and still sold on the streets by local drug dealers that regularly spike their product.” “What are you talking about, you ar....” “Shhhh, don’t worry I’m not going to say anything. You’ll receive what’s due in time. Now I’m going to ask only once. Get me one of your uniforms, and escort me out of here with safe passage or suffer the consequences.” His look of worry, instantly turned into one of satisfaction. He eerily grinned at me, the same type of grin all the others had made when they knew they’ll never be punished for what they’ve done. After a few seconds he spoke again. “I’m not going to do that, besides you’re going to die later today and no one will even want to listen to you or even believe what you just said to me.” “So be it” I stood up, walked to the cell gate and just opened it. Luke pulled out his weapon while yelling at me to not step out or he will be forced to shoot. All this commotion awoke the other inmates and I could sense that the other guards clearly heard him yelling. “Look I don’t know how you know all that shit, but if you step out of that cell I will fucking lay you out!” The time for talk was over. I already knew he was going to attempt to kill me regardless if I stepped out or not, he was just as much of a monster as everyone behind the other cells. I stepped out of the cell and as I did, Luke had already emptied his weapons projectiles into me. But, I was not even phased that my mortal body was wounded. I felt no pain, a benefit of being a god. “What the fuck, HOW?!!” The other guards had appeared with weapons drawn, inmates yelling, alarms sounded, and Luke was just staring at the fresh blood that was oozing out of my body while I just stood there in the middle of this chaos, smiling to my divine self and said, “I believe many of your kind observed my actions a millennia ago and made a very accurate description of myself as to warn future generations. You see, I’m quite vengeful.”	Ooops Totally forgot to check the back of the car before backing out of the driveway, now they are pinning multiple similar deaths on me just because they took place in a similar neighborhood and the culprit has not been found. Now I'm stuck in jail on my 30th birthday and they tell me they are going to kill me? I smoked some royal cookies automatic and awaited my death. "What the fuck bob, How'd you get a big ass blunt and weed in here?! I was pretty sure Theirs a camera over there? How?!" My security guard, or as society puts it my 'prison guard' ran off to check the cameras and ran back scream hysterically "Ho-Wha-You?! You made weed out of thin air?! How did you do that?!" I shrugged, It was a good thing I was still in this mortal body since if I was back in my old body I would not get high with something this week, or even get high at all I suppose. "Honestly that's illegal, I'm going to have to put in prison for life because weed is apparently the devil's creation" I raised my eyebrow, was he the one that was high or was I the one that was high? "Whatever dude, I'm a bit hungry so lead me to the cafeteria, that Joe makes really good brownies" I left my prison cell by just walking through the door and headed to the cafeteria and got myself some brownies. &#x200B; "Prisoner! return to your cell!" They tried tackling me a few times but I dodged them easily and made them high with my weed beams. I stopped smoking for a moment, "Wait, Something something about the moral of the story." I looked to the person reading this right now and spoke "When your backing out of your drive-way, please look to see if anyone is near. I'm also a bit sorry about killing the kid who'll make half-life 3 in the future." I then flew off into the distance spreading weed to every human, the end. &#x200B;
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	"Well. I sure screwed this up. No matter, once I die, back to heaven for me", God said. Then in flash of blinding light and choir singing only God could hear and see, St. Peter arrives in the cell. Peter looks at God and says, "we've got a problem my Lord. It turns out by the rules you laid out in the creation of existence. You are going to be damned to hell." "The hell you say!" God replied. "I'm afraid so" , says Peter. God stands up and proclaims to Peter, "once I'm free of this mortal form. I'll have my divine nature back. I'll simply will myself back to heaven." "And in doing so you'll break Creation. There is only one way for you to escape damnation without bringing about the end times." Peter remarks as he sits God back down on his bunk. God says to Peter while looking a little cross, "Enlighten this mere mortal if you would Peter." Peter grabs the prison bible from the table, leans over to God's ear while handing it to him. Then Peter whispers while pointing down the hall to the Priest and Warden coming closer, "you need to pray to Jesus and ask his forgiveness. You have to mean it too." Peter poofs away in a flutter of brilliant white feathers. God can only stare at the wall and mutter, "shit".	Ooops Totally forgot to check the back of the car before backing out of the driveway, now they are pinning multiple similar deaths on me just because they took place in a similar neighborhood and the culprit has not been found. Now I'm stuck in jail on my 30th birthday and they tell me they are going to kill me? I smoked some royal cookies automatic and awaited my death. "What the fuck bob, How'd you get a big ass blunt and weed in here?! I was pretty sure Theirs a camera over there? How?!" My security guard, or as society puts it my 'prison guard' ran off to check the cameras and ran back scream hysterically "Ho-Wha-You?! You made weed out of thin air?! How did you do that?!" I shrugged, It was a good thing I was still in this mortal body since if I was back in my old body I would not get high with something this week, or even get high at all I suppose. "Honestly that's illegal, I'm going to have to put in prison for life because weed is apparently the devil's creation" I raised my eyebrow, was he the one that was high or was I the one that was high? "Whatever dude, I'm a bit hungry so lead me to the cafeteria, that Joe makes really good brownies" I left my prison cell by just walking through the door and headed to the cafeteria and got myself some brownies. &#x200B; "Prisoner! return to your cell!" They tried tackling me a few times but I dodged them easily and made them high with my weed beams. I stopped smoking for a moment, "Wait, Something something about the moral of the story." I looked to the person reading this right now and spoke "When your backing out of your drive-way, please look to see if anyone is near. I'm also a bit sorry about killing the kid who'll make half-life 3 in the future." I then flew off into the distance spreading weed to every human, the end. &#x200B;
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Pain. I see pain and brutality and violence and greed and gluttony. I knew my creations would excel, they would dominate and lead. But i refused to look into the future, into their future. Little did I know that they would determine everyone's future. A rare specimen of my creation, I watched them grow. Patiently I watched as they lost their way, as they found their way and lost it over and over again. I saw them discover fire. I saw the violence of their barbarity. I saw the gradual sharpening of their minds. I saw their desires. I saw their idols. I saw their strongest tear apart the weak and I saw them idolize those who exerted violence. Still, I refused to see the future. Simply because I was curious. I watched them colonize, I watched them grow exponentially. I saw them fight over their gods but refused to interject. I watched in amusement and in horror. They created empires and civilizations. Yet they never grew past their base nature. I watched the wars, I watched the creation of weapons and their revolutions. I watched them struggle to contain the consequences of their reckless use of the earth. I watched them suffer the plague and nature's wrath. It amused me how my smartest creations learnt nothing from their mistakes. And I looked away. I put my mind to other things. I refused to look at them as they began the conquest of even more violence. They used my name for terrible deeds and begged forgiveness after. When I looked again, I saw their true power. They created weapons of war, obliterated millions in a matter of moments. They created a body count that astounded me. Not even nature's wrath could exact such terrible losses. And then I grew curious. What was it about them? Did i even understand my ultimate creation? Or did I doom all of my creations because I refused to look into humankind's future. I chose to understand, not as my self but as one of them. I did not wish for instant clarity, I wished to learn their ways, through slow and gradual development. I projected myself into a seed of life and took birth. I experienced the inquisitive nature of a child, of course I never remembered those until now, now that I am myself. I experienced loss of my guardians. I saw myself dragged into a cold and lonely world. I grew up in a broken system, mired by corruption and even more senseless violence. I gradually felt less and less, until the pain was numbed completely. Until the chemistry in my brain seemed to fuzz out. I stopped feeling, I saw and I processed and I understood, but I simply didnot feel. And so I killed. I butchered and cared for nothing, took lives with no hesitation. This is how I feel. In my true visage I refuse to feel. I am all knowing and all powerful but I am impartial. I do not interject or assist. I simply watch. &#x200B; As a human I felt many things, except for one. And so I search inside my human form and I feel it for the first time. Something my human form had never felt before. Fear. Fear of death. I can feel the heartbeat rising and feeling. A small grain of emotion in a decayed, hollowed body. I feel the cold, the terror, the prospect of death and the chaos it brings to the mind. Is this what it means to be human, so aware and clever yet so frightened? Is this what they have subjected their kind to, what they always try to escape from to no avail? The fear of death? &#x200B; I understand them now, my true form does not fear. They do. And fear is powerful. I created my ultimate creation in my image but I instilled fear without realizing. And so I drove them to do things I would not have comprehended. I gave them happiness and joy and purity but I also gave them a mortal shell and they experienced fear. &#x200B; So I understand now why they did it all. They did it to avoid fear. To inflict than to experience. To kill than be killed. And suddenly I can justify them. I created a monstrous species with a major flaw. They turned that flaw into their greatest strength and conquered everything they saw. I cannot intervene then, for I was mistaken. I didnot understand their motives or cared. I see them try, they put in effort and most of them try to make life better. They love and ignore fear in pursuit of that which makes them happy. &#x200B; I have to experience one last thing now. Death. I see the guards approaching my cell and know that I must experience this. I tap into my human form and observe as I provide mental consciousness. I let my human body be dragged across the empty halls. I see the injection pierce my body and feel the final moments of terror until there is nothing but darkness. &#x200B; Life and death. I have come full circle	5 a.m. 20 April 1949 I feel nothing. Compared to everyone around me, I feel nothing. The death and birth of people around me. The war that came again and took its toll on humanity, it seems like the only natural thing to happen around here. They let me wear this uniform and remain in this underground castle but I was a prisoner. Not only in physical sense but also mentally. These secret agents don't want the world to know that I am alive still. I was supposed to have died long ago, but in reality they had managed to capture me. They kept me alive to extract all the information they can extract from a man of my position. They are portraying me as a villain. I am. As I am being escorted to an underground bunker where a German court will be held, the clock strikes 6 times. It sounds like the Big Ben is above me. The American officer smirks at my state and says "Happy death day to you, Adolf!" It was also my birthday. 60 Earth years. Earth years? I mean years. All these wars and explosions have sped up the rotations of Earth. How do I know that? I just know... I am supposed to be only 30 years as per the plan. The plan. Yes, I had a plan for myself. I have a plan for everyone! Wait what? I just felt something. Oh this pleasure!This lovely pain in my head! I hear it! I hear it all! The voices of billions of people, a few of whom already blindly worship me! "Mein Furher!" They say!The prayers and the plotting. The twisted grime under their nails, the smelly animal sweat, the crusty flaky skin, their withering pain, that satisfaction of a life diminishing under my command. It felt so good! It was deafening. It was familiar. I remember! The suffering. Yes! I remember! I thought I would be different, but I still am the same. I am still godly and in control! Even when they thought they caught up to me by capturing me, they know nothing! I thrive in chaos. I created everything. I just realised that even without the knowledge of my powers, these humans hung on to every word I said. I used my powers without them knowing. Without my knowing. Now I was being led to this primitive gallow. As if that is going to happen... I took away their lives in one fell swoop. Puppets! They are my toys and will forever be. I am not a villain, I just do crowd control. Too many of these rats and I need to gas them down. As I ascend into my plane of existence, I feel great. I feel everything. EVERYTHING!
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	The morning rotations of the prison commune wake me in a hot sweat, I thought by now I'd be used to the environment and routine of the prison, guess some things never get old eh. I wipe my brow and situate myself to the side of the bed. God id kill to wake up in my own bedroom again, ironically enough this prison is starting to feel like home anyway, might as well soften up to the thought of institutionalization, seeing that I'll be spending my dying breath in this god forsaken criminal daycare. I let out a sigh as I bring myself to my feet, the cement floor cold as ice, soothing my aching feet. Today is but another day in my shitty routine, one less day of the time i have left, whatever. I carry myself half asleep to the stainless steel toilet in the corner of my cell. Man am I glad that I don't have a cell mate. I plop myself down onto the ice cold bowl and begin to take my scheduled morning shit. As I sit on top of the bowl releasing my daily mud baby, a flood of memories slices into my brain like a hot knife through butter, my ears start ringing with the sheer intensity of my neurons exploding. "Wait fuck I'm God"	5 a.m. 20 April 1949 I feel nothing. Compared to everyone around me, I feel nothing. The death and birth of people around me. The war that came again and took its toll on humanity, it seems like the only natural thing to happen around here. They let me wear this uniform and remain in this underground castle but I was a prisoner. Not only in physical sense but also mentally. These secret agents don't want the world to know that I am alive still. I was supposed to have died long ago, but in reality they had managed to capture me. They kept me alive to extract all the information they can extract from a man of my position. They are portraying me as a villain. I am. As I am being escorted to an underground bunker where a German court will be held, the clock strikes 6 times. It sounds like the Big Ben is above me. The American officer smirks at my state and says "Happy death day to you, Adolf!" It was also my birthday. 60 Earth years. Earth years? I mean years. All these wars and explosions have sped up the rotations of Earth. How do I know that? I just know... I am supposed to be only 30 years as per the plan. The plan. Yes, I had a plan for myself. I have a plan for everyone! Wait what? I just felt something. Oh this pleasure!This lovely pain in my head! I hear it! I hear it all! The voices of billions of people, a few of whom already blindly worship me! "Mein Furher!" They say!The prayers and the plotting. The twisted grime under their nails, the smelly animal sweat, the crusty flaky skin, their withering pain, that satisfaction of a life diminishing under my command. It felt so good! It was deafening. It was familiar. I remember! The suffering. Yes! I remember! I thought I would be different, but I still am the same. I am still godly and in control! Even when they thought they caught up to me by capturing me, they know nothing! I thrive in chaos. I created everything. I just realised that even without the knowledge of my powers, these humans hung on to every word I said. I used my powers without them knowing. Without my knowing. Now I was being led to this primitive gallow. As if that is going to happen... I took away their lives in one fell swoop. Puppets! They are my toys and will forever be. I am not a villain, I just do crowd control. Too many of these rats and I need to gas them down. As I ascend into my plane of existence, I feel great. I feel everything. EVERYTHING!
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	It was around 3am when I awoke from my sudden realization. I sat up on the bunk they had given me. I thought to myself how much of a morbid joke it was when they actually obliged to my only wish to be executed on my birthday. The mortal version of me was quite the sentimental type, despite the lives I took. All of the lives I had taken were people who had cheated, killed, exploited, or caused mass distress. From unscrupulous pharmaceutical CEOs who had bent the law by lobbying politicians so they can sell their poison to the masses to those would who would prey on the young. The mortal version of me sought to bring justice to those who had evaded the flawed systems way of punishing those who do harm. I would not realize the irony of that venture until I was 30 in mortal years. It was quite sad really. They thought I created them in “my image” ha. If only they knew the truth. I gave them the resources and necessities to become something much better. I also gave them free will. The ultimate gift. You see, if not for that it would have been the equivalent of mindless drones doing the bidding of their omnipotent god. I did not want that, it would have been the most boring ego boost a god could ask for. I wanted them to use their gifts to enhance themselves and to learn the wonderful mysteries my domain offered them. They could have become my equals, no they could have become something much better. If they chose to just set aside greed. Ah yes, greed. One of the many byproducts of freewill. The very thing that has singlehandedly slowed the progress of their race. But, not all of them are so aware of how much it truly is slowing them down, but they will see very soon. I look around me and see the majority of the other mortals slumbering. I sense a guard walk up and notices me not following suit. Our eyes met and at that moment I saw into his soul. Every sin that he has ever committed was as clear as ever. The darkness that has attached to his soul has injected itself into a state of rot. It was a sight of true disgust, yet his mortal self was not aware of how much darkness was truly inside of him. “Why are you awake inmate?! Go back to sleep!” “Luke, do you think your wife knows?” “EXCUSE ME INMATE?!” “That you killed your own son. You know, the one you masterfully framed as a suicide by overdose. Because you found out he was fucking her.” His jaw dropped and he stuttered. “You came home early one day because there was no traffic on the way home, walked upstairs and heard moaning, only to hear your son fucking your new wife. You were filled with rage and wanted to pull out your 12 gauge you kept hidden in the garage. But, as you were about to do so. You stopped and just realized you would be sitting exactly where I’am today. So instead you formulated a plan, that involved spiking your sons marijuana with fentanyl while he was out. Because the state you live in, cannabis is illegal and still sold on the streets by local drug dealers that regularly spike their product.” “What are you talking about, you ar....” “Shhhh, don’t worry I’m not going to say anything. You’ll receive what’s due in time. Now I’m going to ask only once. Get me one of your uniforms, and escort me out of here with safe passage or suffer the consequences.” His look of worry, instantly turned into one of satisfaction. He eerily grinned at me, the same type of grin all the others had made when they knew they’ll never be punished for what they’ve done. After a few seconds he spoke again. “I’m not going to do that, besides you’re going to die later today and no one will even want to listen to you or even believe what you just said to me.” “So be it” I stood up, walked to the cell gate and just opened it. Luke pulled out his weapon while yelling at me to not step out or he will be forced to shoot. All this commotion awoke the other inmates and I could sense that the other guards clearly heard him yelling. “Look I don’t know how you know all that shit, but if you step out of that cell I will fucking lay you out!” The time for talk was over. I already knew he was going to attempt to kill me regardless if I stepped out or not, he was just as much of a monster as everyone behind the other cells. I stepped out of the cell and as I did, Luke had already emptied his weapons projectiles into me. But, I was not even phased that my mortal body was wounded. I felt no pain, a benefit of being a god. “What the fuck, HOW?!!” The other guards had appeared with weapons drawn, inmates yelling, alarms sounded, and Luke was just staring at the fresh blood that was oozing out of my body while I just stood there in the middle of this chaos, smiling to my divine self and said, “I believe many of your kind observed my actions a millennia ago and made a very accurate description of myself as to warn future generations. You see, I’m quite vengeful.”	5 a.m. 20 April 1949 I feel nothing. Compared to everyone around me, I feel nothing. The death and birth of people around me. The war that came again and took its toll on humanity, it seems like the only natural thing to happen around here. They let me wear this uniform and remain in this underground castle but I was a prisoner. Not only in physical sense but also mentally. These secret agents don't want the world to know that I am alive still. I was supposed to have died long ago, but in reality they had managed to capture me. They kept me alive to extract all the information they can extract from a man of my position. They are portraying me as a villain. I am. As I am being escorted to an underground bunker where a German court will be held, the clock strikes 6 times. It sounds like the Big Ben is above me. The American officer smirks at my state and says "Happy death day to you, Adolf!" It was also my birthday. 60 Earth years. Earth years? I mean years. All these wars and explosions have sped up the rotations of Earth. How do I know that? I just know... I am supposed to be only 30 years as per the plan. The plan. Yes, I had a plan for myself. I have a plan for everyone! Wait what? I just felt something. Oh this pleasure!This lovely pain in my head! I hear it! I hear it all! The voices of billions of people, a few of whom already blindly worship me! "Mein Furher!" They say!The prayers and the plotting. The twisted grime under their nails, the smelly animal sweat, the crusty flaky skin, their withering pain, that satisfaction of a life diminishing under my command. It felt so good! It was deafening. It was familiar. I remember! The suffering. Yes! I remember! I thought I would be different, but I still am the same. I am still godly and in control! Even when they thought they caught up to me by capturing me, they know nothing! I thrive in chaos. I created everything. I just realised that even without the knowledge of my powers, these humans hung on to every word I said. I used my powers without them knowing. Without my knowing. Now I was being led to this primitive gallow. As if that is going to happen... I took away their lives in one fell swoop. Puppets! They are my toys and will forever be. I am not a villain, I just do crowd control. Too many of these rats and I need to gas them down. As I ascend into my plane of existence, I feel great. I feel everything. EVERYTHING!
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Pain. I see pain and brutality and violence and greed and gluttony. I knew my creations would excel, they would dominate and lead. But i refused to look into the future, into their future. Little did I know that they would determine everyone's future. A rare specimen of my creation, I watched them grow. Patiently I watched as they lost their way, as they found their way and lost it over and over again. I saw them discover fire. I saw the violence of their barbarity. I saw the gradual sharpening of their minds. I saw their desires. I saw their idols. I saw their strongest tear apart the weak and I saw them idolize those who exerted violence. Still, I refused to see the future. Simply because I was curious. I watched them colonize, I watched them grow exponentially. I saw them fight over their gods but refused to interject. I watched in amusement and in horror. They created empires and civilizations. Yet they never grew past their base nature. I watched the wars, I watched the creation of weapons and their revolutions. I watched them struggle to contain the consequences of their reckless use of the earth. I watched them suffer the plague and nature's wrath. It amused me how my smartest creations learnt nothing from their mistakes. And I looked away. I put my mind to other things. I refused to look at them as they began the conquest of even more violence. They used my name for terrible deeds and begged forgiveness after. When I looked again, I saw their true power. They created weapons of war, obliterated millions in a matter of moments. They created a body count that astounded me. Not even nature's wrath could exact such terrible losses. And then I grew curious. What was it about them? Did i even understand my ultimate creation? Or did I doom all of my creations because I refused to look into humankind's future. I chose to understand, not as my self but as one of them. I did not wish for instant clarity, I wished to learn their ways, through slow and gradual development. I projected myself into a seed of life and took birth. I experienced the inquisitive nature of a child, of course I never remembered those until now, now that I am myself. I experienced loss of my guardians. I saw myself dragged into a cold and lonely world. I grew up in a broken system, mired by corruption and even more senseless violence. I gradually felt less and less, until the pain was numbed completely. Until the chemistry in my brain seemed to fuzz out. I stopped feeling, I saw and I processed and I understood, but I simply didnot feel. And so I killed. I butchered and cared for nothing, took lives with no hesitation. This is how I feel. In my true visage I refuse to feel. I am all knowing and all powerful but I am impartial. I do not interject or assist. I simply watch. &#x200B; As a human I felt many things, except for one. And so I search inside my human form and I feel it for the first time. Something my human form had never felt before. Fear. Fear of death. I can feel the heartbeat rising and feeling. A small grain of emotion in a decayed, hollowed body. I feel the cold, the terror, the prospect of death and the chaos it brings to the mind. Is this what it means to be human, so aware and clever yet so frightened? Is this what they have subjected their kind to, what they always try to escape from to no avail? The fear of death? &#x200B; I understand them now, my true form does not fear. They do. And fear is powerful. I created my ultimate creation in my image but I instilled fear without realizing. And so I drove them to do things I would not have comprehended. I gave them happiness and joy and purity but I also gave them a mortal shell and they experienced fear. &#x200B; So I understand now why they did it all. They did it to avoid fear. To inflict than to experience. To kill than be killed. And suddenly I can justify them. I created a monstrous species with a major flaw. They turned that flaw into their greatest strength and conquered everything they saw. I cannot intervene then, for I was mistaken. I didnot understand their motives or cared. I see them try, they put in effort and most of them try to make life better. They love and ignore fear in pursuit of that which makes them happy. &#x200B; I have to experience one last thing now. Death. I see the guards approaching my cell and know that I must experience this. I tap into my human form and observe as I provide mental consciousness. I let my human body be dragged across the empty halls. I see the injection pierce my body and feel the final moments of terror until there is nothing but darkness. &#x200B; Life and death. I have come full circle	I remember. I remember the man whose limbs I amputated at the joints. I cut his arms off at the elbow, his legs at the knees, and forced him to hobble across the floor on stumps of bone, like a dog. He would’ve just gone limp, dragged himself across the floor on his leash, but I strapped a pressure sensor to his chest and wired it to a car battery. His screams were wondrous. Why can’t they understand? He needed to become this. Needed to be who he already was on the inside. A dog. A diseased animal. That’s all any of them are. I remember the woman whom I nailed to a chair. I cut out her tongue, her eyes, chopped off her ears, her nose, her fingers. Pulled out her teeth, put a brace in her mouth, slid a feeding tube down her throat, and just saw how long she lived in that state. She screamed for the first five days, when she was conscious. Then she moaned for another four. Then she stopped making noise altogether, but I checked her pulse, she lived for another six days! Remarkable! Even mutilated as she was, as open to infection...it was almost admirable. In a pathetic sort of way. Like watching a rabbit run after it’s already gotten a deep puncture wound from a cat. The rabbit is dead, it just doesn’t realize yet. Or cutting the head off a cicada. The body persists, but the mind is gone. I remember the couple who were forced to eat one another. I abducted them separately, the female first. I lopped off her leg, all the way to the hip, and put it on ice. Then I sent a message to her boyfriend, and waited for him to come. Meathead didn’t even call the police. Still, I should count myself lucky he had a glass jaw. He was quite the specimen. Anyway, I took his leg too. Kept the boy and girl each in their own cell. Clean as I could make them, of course; THESE two I didn’t want dying of infection. My days as a surgeon served me well. Where was I? Right, right. Hah. I took the boy’s leg, roasted it over a spit, and put it in the girl’s cell. Then vice versa with the girl’s leg. Made sure they held their shape, so the poor lovebirds knew exactly what they were getting. Then I starved them for a week. Just one week! I know exactly when they broke, because I was filming them. The boy broke first. He nibbled her thigh, then gave in completely and tore into her flesh like it was his last meal. The girl lasted two days longer, but she surrendered too. THAT was some of my best work. I don’t know what exactly was going through their heads—maybe each thought the other was dead, or maybe they held out hope right until the end. At any rate, the boy attacked me when I tried to clean his cell (hard to adapt to shitting in a bucket when you’ve got just the one leg), so I was forced to kill him. I served his lover his head on a literal silver platter, but that pushed her too far; she pierced her wrists with a spike of bone she’d hidden from his leg. Isn’t it amazing? Humans, they think they’re so evolved, so sophisticated, and yet I can break them so easily. They’re just meat. Meat and instinct. They are fun, though. They sent a psychologist to interview me. Not sure what the point was, since they’d already decided to ice me. He talked a big game, I could see the glint of smug superiority in his eyes the entire time he was talking. “I’m better than you, because I don’t kill people.” That’s what he was thinking. Little prick fainted when I bit my tongue off and spat it at him. They didn’t send anyone else to talk to me after that. Just as well. None of them could possibly understand. Then the day came. They strapped me to the table. They stood on pointless fucking ceremony, they acted all somber and serious, but I know, deep down, they loved killing me just as much as I loved killing them. They pushed the drugs into my veins, one after the other. I wasn’t awake for the latter ones, of course, but on some level I felt them anyway. Or remembered after. Because there was an after for me. Oh yes. I woke up, here, in this non-place. Heaven. This metaphysical idea. My life among them was the best decision I ever made. I remember who I was before living that life: so reserved, so hesitant. So afraid of making the slightest change, giving even the slightest confirmation of my presence, my attention. Not anymore. I have so many ideas now. I will show them what they are. Worms. Dogs. Rabbits. Cicadas. This is their purpose. This is my Will. It’s going to be a lot of fun.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	The morning rotations of the prison commune wake me in a hot sweat, I thought by now I'd be used to the environment and routine of the prison, guess some things never get old eh. I wipe my brow and situate myself to the side of the bed. God id kill to wake up in my own bedroom again, ironically enough this prison is starting to feel like home anyway, might as well soften up to the thought of institutionalization, seeing that I'll be spending my dying breath in this god forsaken criminal daycare. I let out a sigh as I bring myself to my feet, the cement floor cold as ice, soothing my aching feet. Today is but another day in my shitty routine, one less day of the time i have left, whatever. I carry myself half asleep to the stainless steel toilet in the corner of my cell. Man am I glad that I don't have a cell mate. I plop myself down onto the ice cold bowl and begin to take my scheduled morning shit. As I sit on top of the bowl releasing my daily mud baby, a flood of memories slices into my brain like a hot knife through butter, my ears start ringing with the sheer intensity of my neurons exploding. "Wait fuck I'm God"	I remember. I remember the man whose limbs I amputated at the joints. I cut his arms off at the elbow, his legs at the knees, and forced him to hobble across the floor on stumps of bone, like a dog. He would’ve just gone limp, dragged himself across the floor on his leash, but I strapped a pressure sensor to his chest and wired it to a car battery. His screams were wondrous. Why can’t they understand? He needed to become this. Needed to be who he already was on the inside. A dog. A diseased animal. That’s all any of them are. I remember the woman whom I nailed to a chair. I cut out her tongue, her eyes, chopped off her ears, her nose, her fingers. Pulled out her teeth, put a brace in her mouth, slid a feeding tube down her throat, and just saw how long she lived in that state. She screamed for the first five days, when she was conscious. Then she moaned for another four. Then she stopped making noise altogether, but I checked her pulse, she lived for another six days! Remarkable! Even mutilated as she was, as open to infection...it was almost admirable. In a pathetic sort of way. Like watching a rabbit run after it’s already gotten a deep puncture wound from a cat. The rabbit is dead, it just doesn’t realize yet. Or cutting the head off a cicada. The body persists, but the mind is gone. I remember the couple who were forced to eat one another. I abducted them separately, the female first. I lopped off her leg, all the way to the hip, and put it on ice. Then I sent a message to her boyfriend, and waited for him to come. Meathead didn’t even call the police. Still, I should count myself lucky he had a glass jaw. He was quite the specimen. Anyway, I took his leg too. Kept the boy and girl each in their own cell. Clean as I could make them, of course; THESE two I didn’t want dying of infection. My days as a surgeon served me well. Where was I? Right, right. Hah. I took the boy’s leg, roasted it over a spit, and put it in the girl’s cell. Then vice versa with the girl’s leg. Made sure they held their shape, so the poor lovebirds knew exactly what they were getting. Then I starved them for a week. Just one week! I know exactly when they broke, because I was filming them. The boy broke first. He nibbled her thigh, then gave in completely and tore into her flesh like it was his last meal. The girl lasted two days longer, but she surrendered too. THAT was some of my best work. I don’t know what exactly was going through their heads—maybe each thought the other was dead, or maybe they held out hope right until the end. At any rate, the boy attacked me when I tried to clean his cell (hard to adapt to shitting in a bucket when you’ve got just the one leg), so I was forced to kill him. I served his lover his head on a literal silver platter, but that pushed her too far; she pierced her wrists with a spike of bone she’d hidden from his leg. Isn’t it amazing? Humans, they think they’re so evolved, so sophisticated, and yet I can break them so easily. They’re just meat. Meat and instinct. They are fun, though. They sent a psychologist to interview me. Not sure what the point was, since they’d already decided to ice me. He talked a big game, I could see the glint of smug superiority in his eyes the entire time he was talking. “I’m better than you, because I don’t kill people.” That’s what he was thinking. Little prick fainted when I bit my tongue off and spat it at him. They didn’t send anyone else to talk to me after that. Just as well. None of them could possibly understand. Then the day came. They strapped me to the table. They stood on pointless fucking ceremony, they acted all somber and serious, but I know, deep down, they loved killing me just as much as I loved killing them. They pushed the drugs into my veins, one after the other. I wasn’t awake for the latter ones, of course, but on some level I felt them anyway. Or remembered after. Because there was an after for me. Oh yes. I woke up, here, in this non-place. Heaven. This metaphysical idea. My life among them was the best decision I ever made. I remember who I was before living that life: so reserved, so hesitant. So afraid of making the slightest change, giving even the slightest confirmation of my presence, my attention. Not anymore. I have so many ideas now. I will show them what they are. Worms. Dogs. Rabbits. Cicadas. This is their purpose. This is my Will. It’s going to be a lot of fun.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	I am about to turn Thirty. I am also about to Die. I wonder if it makes sense, that I will never reach the age where people start to settle down. It seems ironic, somehow. My Father settled at 30. My mother was two and a half years younger... &#x200B; We all expect our lives to be simple. We expect them to be nothing but what others expect of us before we mature. And when we’ve decided we’re mature, we agree that those things were what we wanted, too. At least, that’s what I expected. ... Time passes slowly in the block. Sometimes, people come in, and sometimes, people leave. I used to notice a difference between the two, as we all measure things by time, and people tend to make things more entertaining. They stopped doing so when I slipped back into my memories. Some say it seemed like dementia. But really, who’s to tell? Time is not a basely human construct. It is, however, notable, that the first time I noticed Time was when I was three years old. She was pacing back and forth around this circular thing, and I noticed, when I looked at her-- things changed. Entertainment, you could say. She sped up as I looked away. And slowed down as I looked towards. Towards her beauty: have I mentioned? her perception of me seems so based on the fact that she is beautiful. Because as she paces, slows, stops, and stares Her hair below her jawline, swings dainty and sweet but her lips-- They are the curve of a clock, shifting slightly, But when I look back and forth from her, they shift faster. And yet, time goes slowly now. I wonder how I lost that wonderful warmth, her smile. They say it is my fault-- I disagree. There is no fault in life, my Father taught me that. Perhaps this is what makes me different than most, than the “we’s” of this world: Simply, I did not do what others perceived as the “plan”. The “American Dream” is a rationalization, a justification for lack of dreams. My dog is about sixteen now. She still doesn’t have object permanence. &#x200B; I realize I am about to turn Thirty. The clock ticks down... &#x200B; My dog isn't even mine now, I realize that. They took her from me. They have taken everything. &#x200B; Or was that me? In a fit of rage, I must say, I forgot everything. &#x200B; I even forgot my Time.	All hell has broken loose. My mother has sent me a letter saying she regrets having me. My father isn't here any more. And i'm on death row. I don't know how many times in my life I could tell you i'd end up gaining the foremost seat upon the thrown of cold-cut death, but I do know that life here on earth is very harsh. I grew up attending an all-boy Catholic school. So this placement seems even more out of the ordinary. Prefects would always announce my kind nature, despite this, I was a very lonely boy. No one was my friend. Now reflecting upon what I have done, I did not deserve any young chap to be my pal. Life has been very excruciating through the loneliness. A battle only the lonely will ever encounter. It is a toughness and a toughness that could amount to leather. Try taking a bite out of that and see what happens. A few teeth will fall out, and maybe some of your sanity too. I have been running around in my mind for hours and days throughout my life. All this thinking, to come to any empty, unsolicited conclusion that offers nothing. Because there is nothing to do about it. How I wished to be saved by god, maybe thought the prefects would get involved, but I was definitely wrong. And to now know that I have come here, to experience what these humans go through. Their mundane tasks. Nights out. All the sentiments a human feels: jovial to melancholy; peace to pain. Iv'e experienced it all. Every human has, and I wonder how they don't go mad or snap from the brink with these erratic feelings. Well, I guess there are some, like me, but it is not deemed normal to have enraged erratic feelings, and to of coarse act upon them. For many years on this planet I have encountered some great friends. Some beautiful people, with beautiful souls. I wonder where they are now in life. I always had a strong feeling one of them could be a law enforcement worker. I hope the one who is escorting me to the chair isn't one of the lads. The shame will have already sucked the ever living life out of me, and announced me dead right then and there. Or maybe that is a good thing. I don't know if I should apologize for what I have done. The only thing I can say is may god have mercy on the heart-wretched souls like me, because we are all human in the end. Aren't we?
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Well. That explains a lot. I’m God. Weird, huh? Who woulda thought that God would be a deranged serial killer waiting to be executed on his 30th birthday? (To be fair, the men I killed were the scum of the earth. Child abusers, rapists, other murderers.) Ahhh, humans. Strange, lovable, creatures. Quite entertaining too. Too bad I’m not going to be one for much longer. It’s been interesting. I fidget a little bit, waiting for the guard to retrieve me from my cell. A few moments pass, and he comes to fetch me. I’m led into a sterile room that smells of alcohol. There’s a window to another room. I see journalists and reporters. I don’t care about that. I see my human parents, tears flowing from their eyes. I hold back my own tears, pained by their anguish. “Do you have any last words?” asks the doctor’s coat-clad executioner. “The Lord God is always with you,” I say, ignoring their puzzled faces. I’m strapped into the gurney, so this is it, I think. A needle pierced my arm and everything goes black. A few moments later, my view shifts to above the execution room. The executioner pronounces me dead. I wave my hand. My human form shimmers and fades away, leaving a cross and a note that says “THE HEAVENLY FATHER LOVES YOU”, confounding them. I smile in satisfaction.	All hell has broken loose. My mother has sent me a letter saying she regrets having me. My father isn't here any more. And i'm on death row. I don't know how many times in my life I could tell you i'd end up gaining the foremost seat upon the thrown of cold-cut death, but I do know that life here on earth is very harsh. I grew up attending an all-boy Catholic school. So this placement seems even more out of the ordinary. Prefects would always announce my kind nature, despite this, I was a very lonely boy. No one was my friend. Now reflecting upon what I have done, I did not deserve any young chap to be my pal. Life has been very excruciating through the loneliness. A battle only the lonely will ever encounter. It is a toughness and a toughness that could amount to leather. Try taking a bite out of that and see what happens. A few teeth will fall out, and maybe some of your sanity too. I have been running around in my mind for hours and days throughout my life. All this thinking, to come to any empty, unsolicited conclusion that offers nothing. Because there is nothing to do about it. How I wished to be saved by god, maybe thought the prefects would get involved, but I was definitely wrong. And to now know that I have come here, to experience what these humans go through. Their mundane tasks. Nights out. All the sentiments a human feels: jovial to melancholy; peace to pain. Iv'e experienced it all. Every human has, and I wonder how they don't go mad or snap from the brink with these erratic feelings. Well, I guess there are some, like me, but it is not deemed normal to have enraged erratic feelings, and to of coarse act upon them. For many years on this planet I have encountered some great friends. Some beautiful people, with beautiful souls. I wonder where they are now in life. I always had a strong feeling one of them could be a law enforcement worker. I hope the one who is escorting me to the chair isn't one of the lads. The shame will have already sucked the ever living life out of me, and announced me dead right then and there. Or maybe that is a good thing. I don't know if I should apologize for what I have done. The only thing I can say is may god have mercy on the heart-wretched souls like me, because we are all human in the end. Aren't we?
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Five minutes till midnight. They say they have a metaphorical clock that ticks closer the more humanity stumbles its way towards an inevitable end and that five minutes to midnight means that things are not going well. Funny thing about that tendency for self destruction is that it was something that I never had. I may have made them in my image but they've progressed in ways that even I couldn't have even begun to fathom. I made a world for them and they decided that it was too small...so they pushed the boundaries to seek what was beyond their proverbial bird cage. Four minutes till midnight. Honestly, I'm impressed, some call it arrogance and others claim that sometimes humanity goes too far and 'plays God'. That turn of phrase always amused me... I mean, why wouldn't they play God? Most children want to be just like their fathers, right? They should be commended, finding ways to shape the world and to seek what lies beyond the scope of their vision. Three minutes till midnight. So, for once, I thought God should play at being human... I wanted to see it from their perspective. Admittedly, this is not what I had imagined. But despite what they believe, even I am not infallible. In order to get this right, I made sure I was a blank slate. The idea was simple, the knowledge of who I am leaves me just before birth and it returns just before death...so it would seem I'm not getting out of this. Two minutes till midnight. I only barely y remember how it happened, to be honest; a troubled childhood, a few bullies and an absent father... I see how difficult it can be for them. Nevertheless, I am guilty of the crime, ten murders over five years...five long years without bring caught and then one small slip up and I'm where I am now. And now with the burden of knowledge. One minute till midnight. Do I feel guilt for these crimes? I'm not entirely sure; this was always a possibility and I was prepared to accept it. But this is their world, not mine. I may have gave the guideline, but I didn't set them in stone...but I sure am going to play by them. And now it's time. The midnight hands. The empty silence is interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway as the guard came closer. The door swung open, the man pulling me to my feet as he led me on what seemed to be the longest walk of my life. The man sat me upon the chair, taking care to secure the straps as he stepped back. Curiosity overcame me as I looked back at him. "How does it feel to play God?" I asked him, awaiting his response as he stared down his nose at me. No answer came but I chuckled to myself as I spoke out one last time. "May God have mercy on my soul."	All hell has broken loose. My mother has sent me a letter saying she regrets having me. My father isn't here any more. And i'm on death row. I don't know how many times in my life I could tell you i'd end up gaining the foremost seat upon the thrown of cold-cut death, but I do know that life here on earth is very harsh. I grew up attending an all-boy Catholic school. So this placement seems even more out of the ordinary. Prefects would always announce my kind nature, despite this, I was a very lonely boy. No one was my friend. Now reflecting upon what I have done, I did not deserve any young chap to be my pal. Life has been very excruciating through the loneliness. A battle only the lonely will ever encounter. It is a toughness and a toughness that could amount to leather. Try taking a bite out of that and see what happens. A few teeth will fall out, and maybe some of your sanity too. I have been running around in my mind for hours and days throughout my life. All this thinking, to come to any empty, unsolicited conclusion that offers nothing. Because there is nothing to do about it. How I wished to be saved by god, maybe thought the prefects would get involved, but I was definitely wrong. And to now know that I have come here, to experience what these humans go through. Their mundane tasks. Nights out. All the sentiments a human feels: jovial to melancholy; peace to pain. Iv'e experienced it all. Every human has, and I wonder how they don't go mad or snap from the brink with these erratic feelings. Well, I guess there are some, like me, but it is not deemed normal to have enraged erratic feelings, and to of coarse act upon them. For many years on this planet I have encountered some great friends. Some beautiful people, with beautiful souls. I wonder where they are now in life. I always had a strong feeling one of them could be a law enforcement worker. I hope the one who is escorting me to the chair isn't one of the lads. The shame will have already sucked the ever living life out of me, and announced me dead right then and there. Or maybe that is a good thing. I don't know if I should apologize for what I have done. The only thing I can say is may god have mercy on the heart-wretched souls like me, because we are all human in the end. Aren't we?
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	It was around 3am when I awoke from my sudden realization. I sat up on the bunk they had given me. I thought to myself how much of a morbid joke it was when they actually obliged to my only wish to be executed on my birthday. The mortal version of me was quite the sentimental type, despite the lives I took. All of the lives I had taken were people who had cheated, killed, exploited, or caused mass distress. From unscrupulous pharmaceutical CEOs who had bent the law by lobbying politicians so they can sell their poison to the masses to those would who would prey on the young. The mortal version of me sought to bring justice to those who had evaded the flawed systems way of punishing those who do harm. I would not realize the irony of that venture until I was 30 in mortal years. It was quite sad really. They thought I created them in “my image” ha. If only they knew the truth. I gave them the resources and necessities to become something much better. I also gave them free will. The ultimate gift. You see, if not for that it would have been the equivalent of mindless drones doing the bidding of their omnipotent god. I did not want that, it would have been the most boring ego boost a god could ask for. I wanted them to use their gifts to enhance themselves and to learn the wonderful mysteries my domain offered them. They could have become my equals, no they could have become something much better. If they chose to just set aside greed. Ah yes, greed. One of the many byproducts of freewill. The very thing that has singlehandedly slowed the progress of their race. But, not all of them are so aware of how much it truly is slowing them down, but they will see very soon. I look around me and see the majority of the other mortals slumbering. I sense a guard walk up and notices me not following suit. Our eyes met and at that moment I saw into his soul. Every sin that he has ever committed was as clear as ever. The darkness that has attached to his soul has injected itself into a state of rot. It was a sight of true disgust, yet his mortal self was not aware of how much darkness was truly inside of him. “Why are you awake inmate?! Go back to sleep!” “Luke, do you think your wife knows?” “EXCUSE ME INMATE?!” “That you killed your own son. You know, the one you masterfully framed as a suicide by overdose. Because you found out he was fucking her.” His jaw dropped and he stuttered. “You came home early one day because there was no traffic on the way home, walked upstairs and heard moaning, only to hear your son fucking your new wife. You were filled with rage and wanted to pull out your 12 gauge you kept hidden in the garage. But, as you were about to do so. You stopped and just realized you would be sitting exactly where I’am today. So instead you formulated a plan, that involved spiking your sons marijuana with fentanyl while he was out. Because the state you live in, cannabis is illegal and still sold on the streets by local drug dealers that regularly spike their product.” “What are you talking about, you ar....” “Shhhh, don’t worry I’m not going to say anything. You’ll receive what’s due in time. Now I’m going to ask only once. Get me one of your uniforms, and escort me out of here with safe passage or suffer the consequences.” His look of worry, instantly turned into one of satisfaction. He eerily grinned at me, the same type of grin all the others had made when they knew they’ll never be punished for what they’ve done. After a few seconds he spoke again. “I’m not going to do that, besides you’re going to die later today and no one will even want to listen to you or even believe what you just said to me.” “So be it” I stood up, walked to the cell gate and just opened it. Luke pulled out his weapon while yelling at me to not step out or he will be forced to shoot. All this commotion awoke the other inmates and I could sense that the other guards clearly heard him yelling. “Look I don’t know how you know all that shit, but if you step out of that cell I will fucking lay you out!” The time for talk was over. I already knew he was going to attempt to kill me regardless if I stepped out or not, he was just as much of a monster as everyone behind the other cells. I stepped out of the cell and as I did, Luke had already emptied his weapons projectiles into me. But, I was not even phased that my mortal body was wounded. I felt no pain, a benefit of being a god. “What the fuck, HOW?!!” The other guards had appeared with weapons drawn, inmates yelling, alarms sounded, and Luke was just staring at the fresh blood that was oozing out of my body while I just stood there in the middle of this chaos, smiling to my divine self and said, “I believe many of your kind observed my actions a millennia ago and made a very accurate description of myself as to warn future generations. You see, I’m quite vengeful.”	All hell has broken loose. My mother has sent me a letter saying she regrets having me. My father isn't here any more. And i'm on death row. I don't know how many times in my life I could tell you i'd end up gaining the foremost seat upon the thrown of cold-cut death, but I do know that life here on earth is very harsh. I grew up attending an all-boy Catholic school. So this placement seems even more out of the ordinary. Prefects would always announce my kind nature, despite this, I was a very lonely boy. No one was my friend. Now reflecting upon what I have done, I did not deserve any young chap to be my pal. Life has been very excruciating through the loneliness. A battle only the lonely will ever encounter. It is a toughness and a toughness that could amount to leather. Try taking a bite out of that and see what happens. A few teeth will fall out, and maybe some of your sanity too. I have been running around in my mind for hours and days throughout my life. All this thinking, to come to any empty, unsolicited conclusion that offers nothing. Because there is nothing to do about it. How I wished to be saved by god, maybe thought the prefects would get involved, but I was definitely wrong. And to now know that I have come here, to experience what these humans go through. Their mundane tasks. Nights out. All the sentiments a human feels: jovial to melancholy; peace to pain. Iv'e experienced it all. Every human has, and I wonder how they don't go mad or snap from the brink with these erratic feelings. Well, I guess there are some, like me, but it is not deemed normal to have enraged erratic feelings, and to of coarse act upon them. For many years on this planet I have encountered some great friends. Some beautiful people, with beautiful souls. I wonder where they are now in life. I always had a strong feeling one of them could be a law enforcement worker. I hope the one who is escorting me to the chair isn't one of the lads. The shame will have already sucked the ever living life out of me, and announced me dead right then and there. Or maybe that is a good thing. I don't know if I should apologize for what I have done. The only thing I can say is may god have mercy on the heart-wretched souls like me, because we are all human in the end. Aren't we?
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	It was around 3am when I awoke from my sudden realization. I sat up on the bunk they had given me. I thought to myself how much of a morbid joke it was when they actually obliged to my only wish to be executed on my birthday. The mortal version of me was quite the sentimental type, despite the lives I took. All of the lives I had taken were people who had cheated, killed, exploited, or caused mass distress. From unscrupulous pharmaceutical CEOs who had bent the law by lobbying politicians so they can sell their poison to the masses to those would who would prey on the young. The mortal version of me sought to bring justice to those who had evaded the flawed systems way of punishing those who do harm. I would not realize the irony of that venture until I was 30 in mortal years. It was quite sad really. They thought I created them in “my image” ha. If only they knew the truth. I gave them the resources and necessities to become something much better. I also gave them free will. The ultimate gift. You see, if not for that it would have been the equivalent of mindless drones doing the bidding of their omnipotent god. I did not want that, it would have been the most boring ego boost a god could ask for. I wanted them to use their gifts to enhance themselves and to learn the wonderful mysteries my domain offered them. They could have become my equals, no they could have become something much better. If they chose to just set aside greed. Ah yes, greed. One of the many byproducts of freewill. The very thing that has singlehandedly slowed the progress of their race. But, not all of them are so aware of how much it truly is slowing them down, but they will see very soon. I look around me and see the majority of the other mortals slumbering. I sense a guard walk up and notices me not following suit. Our eyes met and at that moment I saw into his soul. Every sin that he has ever committed was as clear as ever. The darkness that has attached to his soul has injected itself into a state of rot. It was a sight of true disgust, yet his mortal self was not aware of how much darkness was truly inside of him. “Why are you awake inmate?! Go back to sleep!” “Luke, do you think your wife knows?” “EXCUSE ME INMATE?!” “That you killed your own son. You know, the one you masterfully framed as a suicide by overdose. Because you found out he was fucking her.” His jaw dropped and he stuttered. “You came home early one day because there was no traffic on the way home, walked upstairs and heard moaning, only to hear your son fucking your new wife. You were filled with rage and wanted to pull out your 12 gauge you kept hidden in the garage. But, as you were about to do so. You stopped and just realized you would be sitting exactly where I’am today. So instead you formulated a plan, that involved spiking your sons marijuana with fentanyl while he was out. Because the state you live in, cannabis is illegal and still sold on the streets by local drug dealers that regularly spike their product.” “What are you talking about, you ar....” “Shhhh, don’t worry I’m not going to say anything. You’ll receive what’s due in time. Now I’m going to ask only once. Get me one of your uniforms, and escort me out of here with safe passage or suffer the consequences.” His look of worry, instantly turned into one of satisfaction. He eerily grinned at me, the same type of grin all the others had made when they knew they’ll never be punished for what they’ve done. After a few seconds he spoke again. “I’m not going to do that, besides you’re going to die later today and no one will even want to listen to you or even believe what you just said to me.” “So be it” I stood up, walked to the cell gate and just opened it. Luke pulled out his weapon while yelling at me to not step out or he will be forced to shoot. All this commotion awoke the other inmates and I could sense that the other guards clearly heard him yelling. “Look I don’t know how you know all that shit, but if you step out of that cell I will fucking lay you out!” The time for talk was over. I already knew he was going to attempt to kill me regardless if I stepped out or not, he was just as much of a monster as everyone behind the other cells. I stepped out of the cell and as I did, Luke had already emptied his weapons projectiles into me. But, I was not even phased that my mortal body was wounded. I felt no pain, a benefit of being a god. “What the fuck, HOW?!!” The other guards had appeared with weapons drawn, inmates yelling, alarms sounded, and Luke was just staring at the fresh blood that was oozing out of my body while I just stood there in the middle of this chaos, smiling to my divine self and said, “I believe many of your kind observed my actions a millennia ago and made a very accurate description of myself as to warn future generations. You see, I’m quite vengeful.”	I am about to turn Thirty. I am also about to Die. I wonder if it makes sense, that I will never reach the age where people start to settle down. It seems ironic, somehow. My Father settled at 30. My mother was two and a half years younger... &#x200B; We all expect our lives to be simple. We expect them to be nothing but what others expect of us before we mature. And when we’ve decided we’re mature, we agree that those things were what we wanted, too. At least, that’s what I expected. ... Time passes slowly in the block. Sometimes, people come in, and sometimes, people leave. I used to notice a difference between the two, as we all measure things by time, and people tend to make things more entertaining. They stopped doing so when I slipped back into my memories. Some say it seemed like dementia. But really, who’s to tell? Time is not a basely human construct. It is, however, notable, that the first time I noticed Time was when I was three years old. She was pacing back and forth around this circular thing, and I noticed, when I looked at her-- things changed. Entertainment, you could say. She sped up as I looked away. And slowed down as I looked towards. Towards her beauty: have I mentioned? her perception of me seems so based on the fact that she is beautiful. Because as she paces, slows, stops, and stares Her hair below her jawline, swings dainty and sweet but her lips-- They are the curve of a clock, shifting slightly, But when I look back and forth from her, they shift faster. And yet, time goes slowly now. I wonder how I lost that wonderful warmth, her smile. They say it is my fault-- I disagree. There is no fault in life, my Father taught me that. Perhaps this is what makes me different than most, than the “we’s” of this world: Simply, I did not do what others perceived as the “plan”. The “American Dream” is a rationalization, a justification for lack of dreams. My dog is about sixteen now. She still doesn’t have object permanence. &#x200B; I realize I am about to turn Thirty. The clock ticks down... &#x200B; My dog isn't even mine now, I realize that. They took her from me. They have taken everything. &#x200B; Or was that me? In a fit of rage, I must say, I forgot everything. &#x200B; I even forgot my Time.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Well. That explains a lot. I’m God. Weird, huh? Who woulda thought that God would be a deranged serial killer waiting to be executed on his 30th birthday? (To be fair, the men I killed were the scum of the earth. Child abusers, rapists, other murderers.) Ahhh, humans. Strange, lovable, creatures. Quite entertaining too. Too bad I’m not going to be one for much longer. It’s been interesting. I fidget a little bit, waiting for the guard to retrieve me from my cell. A few moments pass, and he comes to fetch me. I’m led into a sterile room that smells of alcohol. There’s a window to another room. I see journalists and reporters. I don’t care about that. I see my human parents, tears flowing from their eyes. I hold back my own tears, pained by their anguish. “Do you have any last words?” asks the doctor’s coat-clad executioner. “The Lord God is always with you,” I say, ignoring their puzzled faces. I’m strapped into the gurney, so this is it, I think. A needle pierced my arm and everything goes black. A few moments later, my view shifts to above the execution room. The executioner pronounces me dead. I wave my hand. My human form shimmers and fades away, leaving a cross and a note that says “THE HEAVENLY FATHER LOVES YOU”, confounding them. I smile in satisfaction.	"Here you go, your holiness MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The guard threw the plate into my cell causing all the mashed potatoes to splatter all over. Well, not that I need any of that gunck. I invented root vegetable as my version of fast food. Quick, easy and cheap. Who knew it would get so popular in less then a thousand years! Still that guard needs to be taught a lesson. Lets see how he likes his next pint tasting of blood. It is understandable however. Being a serial killer on death row I suddenly come to the revolution that "Ops, by the way. I'm god ya all. Little g but still a god. I just decided to walk a mile in my creation's shoes for 30 years before I woke up to my true self. How about opening those doors and letting me out huh?" Could have phrased that better but fuck it. I'm god. I can say and do what I want and you all better pucker up and kiss my behind for it... Probably why I ended up on death row now that I think about it. Serial killer my butt, so I smited a few bugs here and there. Nothing compared to my teen years let me tell you. You take a 2000 year break and everyone puts you on a pedestal forgetting all the bad and sugar coating the good. Well, guess it's time to press the reset button. Lets see, the flood didn't work and the locus were annoying to deal with later... I'll just go old school and use a meteor. Worked with those ungrateful giant chickens! Going to spare one species for the do over. I think I'll go with Mice this time. Me knows they're all over this dump and were the only ones to bring me offerings since I woke up. Mice it is! But first I think I'll have some fun before I go. Now, who can I place as president that will make this as entertaining as possible for me.... Found him! And the winner of the 2016 election is!!!
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Five minutes till midnight. They say they have a metaphorical clock that ticks closer the more humanity stumbles its way towards an inevitable end and that five minutes to midnight means that things are not going well. Funny thing about that tendency for self destruction is that it was something that I never had. I may have made them in my image but they've progressed in ways that even I couldn't have even begun to fathom. I made a world for them and they decided that it was too small...so they pushed the boundaries to seek what was beyond their proverbial bird cage. Four minutes till midnight. Honestly, I'm impressed, some call it arrogance and others claim that sometimes humanity goes too far and 'plays God'. That turn of phrase always amused me... I mean, why wouldn't they play God? Most children want to be just like their fathers, right? They should be commended, finding ways to shape the world and to seek what lies beyond the scope of their vision. Three minutes till midnight. So, for once, I thought God should play at being human... I wanted to see it from their perspective. Admittedly, this is not what I had imagined. But despite what they believe, even I am not infallible. In order to get this right, I made sure I was a blank slate. The idea was simple, the knowledge of who I am leaves me just before birth and it returns just before death...so it would seem I'm not getting out of this. Two minutes till midnight. I only barely y remember how it happened, to be honest; a troubled childhood, a few bullies and an absent father... I see how difficult it can be for them. Nevertheless, I am guilty of the crime, ten murders over five years...five long years without bring caught and then one small slip up and I'm where I am now. And now with the burden of knowledge. One minute till midnight. Do I feel guilt for these crimes? I'm not entirely sure; this was always a possibility and I was prepared to accept it. But this is their world, not mine. I may have gave the guideline, but I didn't set them in stone...but I sure am going to play by them. And now it's time. The midnight hands. The empty silence is interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway as the guard came closer. The door swung open, the man pulling me to my feet as he led me on what seemed to be the longest walk of my life. The man sat me upon the chair, taking care to secure the straps as he stepped back. Curiosity overcame me as I looked back at him. "How does it feel to play God?" I asked him, awaiting his response as he stared down his nose at me. No answer came but I chuckled to myself as I spoke out one last time. "May God have mercy on my soul."	"Here you go, your holiness MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The guard threw the plate into my cell causing all the mashed potatoes to splatter all over. Well, not that I need any of that gunck. I invented root vegetable as my version of fast food. Quick, easy and cheap. Who knew it would get so popular in less then a thousand years! Still that guard needs to be taught a lesson. Lets see how he likes his next pint tasting of blood. It is understandable however. Being a serial killer on death row I suddenly come to the revolution that "Ops, by the way. I'm god ya all. Little g but still a god. I just decided to walk a mile in my creation's shoes for 30 years before I woke up to my true self. How about opening those doors and letting me out huh?" Could have phrased that better but fuck it. I'm god. I can say and do what I want and you all better pucker up and kiss my behind for it... Probably why I ended up on death row now that I think about it. Serial killer my butt, so I smited a few bugs here and there. Nothing compared to my teen years let me tell you. You take a 2000 year break and everyone puts you on a pedestal forgetting all the bad and sugar coating the good. Well, guess it's time to press the reset button. Lets see, the flood didn't work and the locus were annoying to deal with later... I'll just go old school and use a meteor. Worked with those ungrateful giant chickens! Going to spare one species for the do over. I think I'll go with Mice this time. Me knows they're all over this dump and were the only ones to bring me offerings since I woke up. Mice it is! But first I think I'll have some fun before I go. Now, who can I place as president that will make this as entertaining as possible for me.... Found him! And the winner of the 2016 election is!!!
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	It was around 3am when I awoke from my sudden realization. I sat up on the bunk they had given me. I thought to myself how much of a morbid joke it was when they actually obliged to my only wish to be executed on my birthday. The mortal version of me was quite the sentimental type, despite the lives I took. All of the lives I had taken were people who had cheated, killed, exploited, or caused mass distress. From unscrupulous pharmaceutical CEOs who had bent the law by lobbying politicians so they can sell their poison to the masses to those would who would prey on the young. The mortal version of me sought to bring justice to those who had evaded the flawed systems way of punishing those who do harm. I would not realize the irony of that venture until I was 30 in mortal years. It was quite sad really. They thought I created them in “my image” ha. If only they knew the truth. I gave them the resources and necessities to become something much better. I also gave them free will. The ultimate gift. You see, if not for that it would have been the equivalent of mindless drones doing the bidding of their omnipotent god. I did not want that, it would have been the most boring ego boost a god could ask for. I wanted them to use their gifts to enhance themselves and to learn the wonderful mysteries my domain offered them. They could have become my equals, no they could have become something much better. If they chose to just set aside greed. Ah yes, greed. One of the many byproducts of freewill. The very thing that has singlehandedly slowed the progress of their race. But, not all of them are so aware of how much it truly is slowing them down, but they will see very soon. I look around me and see the majority of the other mortals slumbering. I sense a guard walk up and notices me not following suit. Our eyes met and at that moment I saw into his soul. Every sin that he has ever committed was as clear as ever. The darkness that has attached to his soul has injected itself into a state of rot. It was a sight of true disgust, yet his mortal self was not aware of how much darkness was truly inside of him. “Why are you awake inmate?! Go back to sleep!” “Luke, do you think your wife knows?” “EXCUSE ME INMATE?!” “That you killed your own son. You know, the one you masterfully framed as a suicide by overdose. Because you found out he was fucking her.” His jaw dropped and he stuttered. “You came home early one day because there was no traffic on the way home, walked upstairs and heard moaning, only to hear your son fucking your new wife. You were filled with rage and wanted to pull out your 12 gauge you kept hidden in the garage. But, as you were about to do so. You stopped and just realized you would be sitting exactly where I’am today. So instead you formulated a plan, that involved spiking your sons marijuana with fentanyl while he was out. Because the state you live in, cannabis is illegal and still sold on the streets by local drug dealers that regularly spike their product.” “What are you talking about, you ar....” “Shhhh, don’t worry I’m not going to say anything. You’ll receive what’s due in time. Now I’m going to ask only once. Get me one of your uniforms, and escort me out of here with safe passage or suffer the consequences.” His look of worry, instantly turned into one of satisfaction. He eerily grinned at me, the same type of grin all the others had made when they knew they’ll never be punished for what they’ve done. After a few seconds he spoke again. “I’m not going to do that, besides you’re going to die later today and no one will even want to listen to you or even believe what you just said to me.” “So be it” I stood up, walked to the cell gate and just opened it. Luke pulled out his weapon while yelling at me to not step out or he will be forced to shoot. All this commotion awoke the other inmates and I could sense that the other guards clearly heard him yelling. “Look I don’t know how you know all that shit, but if you step out of that cell I will fucking lay you out!” The time for talk was over. I already knew he was going to attempt to kill me regardless if I stepped out or not, he was just as much of a monster as everyone behind the other cells. I stepped out of the cell and as I did, Luke had already emptied his weapons projectiles into me. But, I was not even phased that my mortal body was wounded. I felt no pain, a benefit of being a god. “What the fuck, HOW?!!” The other guards had appeared with weapons drawn, inmates yelling, alarms sounded, and Luke was just staring at the fresh blood that was oozing out of my body while I just stood there in the middle of this chaos, smiling to my divine self and said, “I believe many of your kind observed my actions a millennia ago and made a very accurate description of myself as to warn future generations. You see, I’m quite vengeful.”	"Here you go, your holiness MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The guard threw the plate into my cell causing all the mashed potatoes to splatter all over. Well, not that I need any of that gunck. I invented root vegetable as my version of fast food. Quick, easy and cheap. Who knew it would get so popular in less then a thousand years! Still that guard needs to be taught a lesson. Lets see how he likes his next pint tasting of blood. It is understandable however. Being a serial killer on death row I suddenly come to the revolution that "Ops, by the way. I'm god ya all. Little g but still a god. I just decided to walk a mile in my creation's shoes for 30 years before I woke up to my true self. How about opening those doors and letting me out huh?" Could have phrased that better but fuck it. I'm god. I can say and do what I want and you all better pucker up and kiss my behind for it... Probably why I ended up on death row now that I think about it. Serial killer my butt, so I smited a few bugs here and there. Nothing compared to my teen years let me tell you. You take a 2000 year break and everyone puts you on a pedestal forgetting all the bad and sugar coating the good. Well, guess it's time to press the reset button. Lets see, the flood didn't work and the locus were annoying to deal with later... I'll just go old school and use a meteor. Worked with those ungrateful giant chickens! Going to spare one species for the do over. I think I'll go with Mice this time. Me knows they're all over this dump and were the only ones to bring me offerings since I woke up. Mice it is! But first I think I'll have some fun before I go. Now, who can I place as president that will make this as entertaining as possible for me.... Found him! And the winner of the 2016 election is!!!
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	“James Joseph…” The judge shuffles around a couple papers. “You have been found guilty of… over 14 hundred counts of first-degree murder,” She whispers quietly as she counts, “ over twelve hundred accounts of assault with a deadly weapon and,” Perplexed, she continues, “My God, this just seems to keep going. Do you have any last words?” James seems completely out of it. As if he had been pondering something deep. So deep, it stole every ounce of attention a human could give. “James!” Yells the judge as she snaps her fingers in his direction. “Hellooo!” “Oh.” He says as he snaps back. He takes a deep breath. And in a strikingly calm tone, “No…” “Alright-” The Judge readies her gavel. “I hear by sentence you too-” “I meant no… To the charges.” He interrupts. With a bewildering look, “Excuse me?” “I’ve actually just remembered…” He rises to his feet. The prison clothing and chains that were once wrapped around his body- pass through him, as if he was made of air. They float to the ground as this muscular naked man stands at his table. A collective gasp follows as everyone in the room looks upon him. “I… apologizes, but I have somewhere to be.” He steps around his table and beings to slowly approach the judge. “What the- Guards, constrain him!” She yells out. “Sir! get back!” Yells one of the guards as he and other officers rush towards him. They dive towards him. Arms stretched out, thinking their tackle will take him down easily. But they also phase right through, Hitting the ground hard letting out a yelp in pain. James reaches the foot of the judge's podium and everyone beings to scream and panic. “Everyone!” Yells James, settling the room for a moment. “I am deeply sorry for the hurt that I’ve caused upon you people. To break hearts was never my intention. But they are truly in a better place now. And in time, you too will see it.” He pauses and looks deeply into others faces. “Some sooner than others. But I promise you will all see it… You all shall not suffer for long. But my time with you is finished and I must be on my way. I’m sorry.” James closes his eyes, bows his head. As he stands there, his entire body begins to glow. His glow is so bright, people shield their eyes to not be blinded. Then suddenly, crash. The ceiling has a large scorched hole leading up and out towards the sky. James is gone. And the words “I love you all” is burned into the wood panels were he last stood. Everyone is speechless. &#x200B; Sometime later. \Hox News Theme\ Breaking news from the trial of the century. James Joseph, Americas most wanted criminal has apparently exploded into energy and was last seen bursting out of the roof of the Washington Court House. Officials are still trying to understand what just happened. But it is clear the James has vanished. All the churches all over the world are going absolutely bananas at the potential of the second coming of Christ. But who really knows? More on this at noon.	"Here you go, your holiness MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The guard threw the plate into my cell causing all the mashed potatoes to splatter all over. Well, not that I need any of that gunck. I invented root vegetable as my version of fast food. Quick, easy and cheap. Who knew it would get so popular in less then a thousand years! Still that guard needs to be taught a lesson. Lets see how he likes his next pint tasting of blood. It is understandable however. Being a serial killer on death row I suddenly come to the revolution that "Ops, by the way. I'm god ya all. Little g but still a god. I just decided to walk a mile in my creation's shoes for 30 years before I woke up to my true self. How about opening those doors and letting me out huh?" Could have phrased that better but fuck it. I'm god. I can say and do what I want and you all better pucker up and kiss my behind for it... Probably why I ended up on death row now that I think about it. Serial killer my butt, so I smited a few bugs here and there. Nothing compared to my teen years let me tell you. You take a 2000 year break and everyone puts you on a pedestal forgetting all the bad and sugar coating the good. Well, guess it's time to press the reset button. Lets see, the flood didn't work and the locus were annoying to deal with later... I'll just go old school and use a meteor. Worked with those ungrateful giant chickens! Going to spare one species for the do over. I think I'll go with Mice this time. Me knows they're all over this dump and were the only ones to bring me offerings since I woke up. Mice it is! But first I think I'll have some fun before I go. Now, who can I place as president that will make this as entertaining as possible for me.... Found him! And the winner of the 2016 election is!!!
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	"Well. I sure screwed this up. No matter, once I die, back to heaven for me", God said. Then in flash of blinding light and choir singing only God could hear and see, St. Peter arrives in the cell. Peter looks at God and says, "we've got a problem my Lord. It turns out by the rules you laid out in the creation of existence. You are going to be damned to hell." "The hell you say!" God replied. "I'm afraid so" , says Peter. God stands up and proclaims to Peter, "once I'm free of this mortal form. I'll have my divine nature back. I'll simply will myself back to heaven." "And in doing so you'll break Creation. There is only one way for you to escape damnation without bringing about the end times." Peter remarks as he sits God back down on his bunk. God says to Peter while looking a little cross, "Enlighten this mere mortal if you would Peter." Peter grabs the prison bible from the table, leans over to God's ear while handing it to him. Then Peter whispers while pointing down the hall to the Priest and Warden coming closer, "you need to pray to Jesus and ask his forgiveness. You have to mean it too." Peter poofs away in a flutter of brilliant white feathers. God can only stare at the wall and mutter, "shit".	"Here you go, your holiness MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The guard threw the plate into my cell causing all the mashed potatoes to splatter all over. Well, not that I need any of that gunck. I invented root vegetable as my version of fast food. Quick, easy and cheap. Who knew it would get so popular in less then a thousand years! Still that guard needs to be taught a lesson. Lets see how he likes his next pint tasting of blood. It is understandable however. Being a serial killer on death row I suddenly come to the revolution that "Ops, by the way. I'm god ya all. Little g but still a god. I just decided to walk a mile in my creation's shoes for 30 years before I woke up to my true self. How about opening those doors and letting me out huh?" Could have phrased that better but fuck it. I'm god. I can say and do what I want and you all better pucker up and kiss my behind for it... Probably why I ended up on death row now that I think about it. Serial killer my butt, so I smited a few bugs here and there. Nothing compared to my teen years let me tell you. You take a 2000 year break and everyone puts you on a pedestal forgetting all the bad and sugar coating the good. Well, guess it's time to press the reset button. Lets see, the flood didn't work and the locus were annoying to deal with later... I'll just go old school and use a meteor. Worked with those ungrateful giant chickens! Going to spare one species for the do over. I think I'll go with Mice this time. Me knows they're all over this dump and were the only ones to bring me offerings since I woke up. Mice it is! But first I think I'll have some fun before I go. Now, who can I place as president that will make this as entertaining as possible for me.... Found him! And the winner of the 2016 election is!!!
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Ah, I said to myself, so they don't like it when you do that. I had perfect memory in that moment, my transcendence repurposing my powers as I saw fit according to my holy whims. I could feel the blood dripping down my hands, each life taken no less recent to my mind than the present. The screams, the emotions flushing across their faces, even the chemical computers coursing through their veins as open to me as my own thoughts. Funny, though, they didn't always get so upset about it. I guess it gets harder over time. Where was my notebook again?... —ah! I scribbled my findings down below the other notes. `6. Thou shalt not kill.` The clock reset and I settled in for another round. This was going to be a good one, I could feel it.	"Here you go, your holiness MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The guard threw the plate into my cell causing all the mashed potatoes to splatter all over. Well, not that I need any of that gunck. I invented root vegetable as my version of fast food. Quick, easy and cheap. Who knew it would get so popular in less then a thousand years! Still that guard needs to be taught a lesson. Lets see how he likes his next pint tasting of blood. It is understandable however. Being a serial killer on death row I suddenly come to the revolution that "Ops, by the way. I'm god ya all. Little g but still a god. I just decided to walk a mile in my creation's shoes for 30 years before I woke up to my true self. How about opening those doors and letting me out huh?" Could have phrased that better but fuck it. I'm god. I can say and do what I want and you all better pucker up and kiss my behind for it... Probably why I ended up on death row now that I think about it. Serial killer my butt, so I smited a few bugs here and there. Nothing compared to my teen years let me tell you. You take a 2000 year break and everyone puts you on a pedestal forgetting all the bad and sugar coating the good. Well, guess it's time to press the reset button. Lets see, the flood didn't work and the locus were annoying to deal with later... I'll just go old school and use a meteor. Worked with those ungrateful giant chickens! Going to spare one species for the do over. I think I'll go with Mice this time. Me knows they're all over this dump and were the only ones to bring me offerings since I woke up. Mice it is! But first I think I'll have some fun before I go. Now, who can I place as president that will make this as entertaining as possible for me.... Found him! And the winner of the 2016 election is!!!
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	It was around 3am when I awoke from my sudden realization. I sat up on the bunk they had given me. I thought to myself how much of a morbid joke it was when they actually obliged to my only wish to be executed on my birthday. The mortal version of me was quite the sentimental type, despite the lives I took. All of the lives I had taken were people who had cheated, killed, exploited, or caused mass distress. From unscrupulous pharmaceutical CEOs who had bent the law by lobbying politicians so they can sell their poison to the masses to those would who would prey on the young. The mortal version of me sought to bring justice to those who had evaded the flawed systems way of punishing those who do harm. I would not realize the irony of that venture until I was 30 in mortal years. It was quite sad really. They thought I created them in “my image” ha. If only they knew the truth. I gave them the resources and necessities to become something much better. I also gave them free will. The ultimate gift. You see, if not for that it would have been the equivalent of mindless drones doing the bidding of their omnipotent god. I did not want that, it would have been the most boring ego boost a god could ask for. I wanted them to use their gifts to enhance themselves and to learn the wonderful mysteries my domain offered them. They could have become my equals, no they could have become something much better. If they chose to just set aside greed. Ah yes, greed. One of the many byproducts of freewill. The very thing that has singlehandedly slowed the progress of their race. But, not all of them are so aware of how much it truly is slowing them down, but they will see very soon. I look around me and see the majority of the other mortals slumbering. I sense a guard walk up and notices me not following suit. Our eyes met and at that moment I saw into his soul. Every sin that he has ever committed was as clear as ever. The darkness that has attached to his soul has injected itself into a state of rot. It was a sight of true disgust, yet his mortal self was not aware of how much darkness was truly inside of him. “Why are you awake inmate?! Go back to sleep!” “Luke, do you think your wife knows?” “EXCUSE ME INMATE?!” “That you killed your own son. You know, the one you masterfully framed as a suicide by overdose. Because you found out he was fucking her.” His jaw dropped and he stuttered. “You came home early one day because there was no traffic on the way home, walked upstairs and heard moaning, only to hear your son fucking your new wife. You were filled with rage and wanted to pull out your 12 gauge you kept hidden in the garage. But, as you were about to do so. You stopped and just realized you would be sitting exactly where I’am today. So instead you formulated a plan, that involved spiking your sons marijuana with fentanyl while he was out. Because the state you live in, cannabis is illegal and still sold on the streets by local drug dealers that regularly spike their product.” “What are you talking about, you ar....” “Shhhh, don’t worry I’m not going to say anything. You’ll receive what’s due in time. Now I’m going to ask only once. Get me one of your uniforms, and escort me out of here with safe passage or suffer the consequences.” His look of worry, instantly turned into one of satisfaction. He eerily grinned at me, the same type of grin all the others had made when they knew they’ll never be punished for what they’ve done. After a few seconds he spoke again. “I’m not going to do that, besides you’re going to die later today and no one will even want to listen to you or even believe what you just said to me.” “So be it” I stood up, walked to the cell gate and just opened it. Luke pulled out his weapon while yelling at me to not step out or he will be forced to shoot. All this commotion awoke the other inmates and I could sense that the other guards clearly heard him yelling. “Look I don’t know how you know all that shit, but if you step out of that cell I will fucking lay you out!” The time for talk was over. I already knew he was going to attempt to kill me regardless if I stepped out or not, he was just as much of a monster as everyone behind the other cells. I stepped out of the cell and as I did, Luke had already emptied his weapons projectiles into me. But, I was not even phased that my mortal body was wounded. I felt no pain, a benefit of being a god. “What the fuck, HOW?!!” The other guards had appeared with weapons drawn, inmates yelling, alarms sounded, and Luke was just staring at the fresh blood that was oozing out of my body while I just stood there in the middle of this chaos, smiling to my divine self and said, “I believe many of your kind observed my actions a millennia ago and made a very accurate description of myself as to warn future generations. You see, I’m quite vengeful.”	Well. That explains a lot. I’m God. Weird, huh? Who woulda thought that God would be a deranged serial killer waiting to be executed on his 30th birthday? (To be fair, the men I killed were the scum of the earth. Child abusers, rapists, other murderers.) Ahhh, humans. Strange, lovable, creatures. Quite entertaining too. Too bad I’m not going to be one for much longer. It’s been interesting. I fidget a little bit, waiting for the guard to retrieve me from my cell. A few moments pass, and he comes to fetch me. I’m led into a sterile room that smells of alcohol. There’s a window to another room. I see journalists and reporters. I don’t care about that. I see my human parents, tears flowing from their eyes. I hold back my own tears, pained by their anguish. “Do you have any last words?” asks the doctor’s coat-clad executioner. “The Lord God is always with you,” I say, ignoring their puzzled faces. I’m strapped into the gurney, so this is it, I think. A needle pierced my arm and everything goes black. A few moments later, my view shifts to above the execution room. The executioner pronounces me dead. I wave my hand. My human form shimmers and fades away, leaving a cross and a note that says “THE HEAVENLY FATHER LOVES YOU”, confounding them. I smile in satisfaction.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Five minutes till midnight. They say they have a metaphorical clock that ticks closer the more humanity stumbles its way towards an inevitable end and that five minutes to midnight means that things are not going well. Funny thing about that tendency for self destruction is that it was something that I never had. I may have made them in my image but they've progressed in ways that even I couldn't have even begun to fathom. I made a world for them and they decided that it was too small...so they pushed the boundaries to seek what was beyond their proverbial bird cage. Four minutes till midnight. Honestly, I'm impressed, some call it arrogance and others claim that sometimes humanity goes too far and 'plays God'. That turn of phrase always amused me... I mean, why wouldn't they play God? Most children want to be just like their fathers, right? They should be commended, finding ways to shape the world and to seek what lies beyond the scope of their vision. Three minutes till midnight. So, for once, I thought God should play at being human... I wanted to see it from their perspective. Admittedly, this is not what I had imagined. But despite what they believe, even I am not infallible. In order to get this right, I made sure I was a blank slate. The idea was simple, the knowledge of who I am leaves me just before birth and it returns just before death...so it would seem I'm not getting out of this. Two minutes till midnight. I only barely y remember how it happened, to be honest; a troubled childhood, a few bullies and an absent father... I see how difficult it can be for them. Nevertheless, I am guilty of the crime, ten murders over five years...five long years without bring caught and then one small slip up and I'm where I am now. And now with the burden of knowledge. One minute till midnight. Do I feel guilt for these crimes? I'm not entirely sure; this was always a possibility and I was prepared to accept it. But this is their world, not mine. I may have gave the guideline, but I didn't set them in stone...but I sure am going to play by them. And now it's time. The midnight hands. The empty silence is interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway as the guard came closer. The door swung open, the man pulling me to my feet as he led me on what seemed to be the longest walk of my life. The man sat me upon the chair, taking care to secure the straps as he stepped back. Curiosity overcame me as I looked back at him. "How does it feel to play God?" I asked him, awaiting his response as he stared down his nose at me. No answer came but I chuckled to myself as I spoke out one last time. "May God have mercy on my soul."	As I woke up, I felt incredibly calm. Until this very morning, the past years had been a challenge for me that pushed me to my mental limits. I didn’t know what was right or wrong, what was good, what was evil. Was I going to hell? Was I the evil that people feared? Was all the blood for nothing? No more questions. Today I woke up and knew the answer. Thirty years in a mortal body brought me to this small, dreary cell that the people put me in to let me suffer until I finally got what they thought I deserved. These poor souls could not have known. When I did these crimes, I never regretted my actions. Now I know why. The walls of the room had numerous scratches that covered the cold white surface like scars. For years my anger, doubts and fears were displayed on these enclosures, but today was my time to smooth them out. This morning I was patient. I could have gotten out of this prison with ease at the very first moment I opened my new eyes. But instead, I would take my time. I had just realized what time actually means. To me, nothing. When the first guard came to my cell and barked out the usual instructions, I simply took my time to find eye contact. That shut him up immediately. An almost unnoticeable spark lit up his eyes and without any more words, he unlocked my cell door and stepped aside. Just a couple of hours ago, I would have gone trough all sorts of emotions ranging from glee to denial when this path opened. But right now, it was simply part of the higher plan. Hundreds of eyes laid on me as I slowly walked past the hall. I was able to hear their thoughts and feel their emotions. Most were confused and interested, some envied me, many were angry. “Hey, inmate! What are you doing?” A guard shouted at my back. In anticipation of the oncoming event, I formed a humble smile on my face. Certainly, there was a little bit left of my mortal self. Without turning around, I pursued my way along the far corridor. “Inmate! You are not allowed to be out here. Go back to your cell now or I have to use…” With his gun already pulled, he stopped in the middle of the sentence. The atmosphere in the building froze every thought and simultaneously made everyone feel unbearable heat. Sweat in every pore. People could sense, there was something divine going on. A short glace over my shoulder. Another pair of eyes lighting up. A final breath. The guard pointed the gun away from me and slowly turned it on himself. His teeth bit the barrel as he pulled the trigger. _Boom._ The dump sound of his body hitting the floor joined the ringing in people's ears that was left by the gunshot. For many of the present witnesses, a body with a fatal head wound was not a new sight. However, none of them had ever seen one dissolving into thousands of cockroaches and maggots within seconds. Every single one of them planting the feeling of chaos in everybody’s mind. With every further step I took, I could hear people dropping on their knees, praying and asking questions. Today, I knew the answer. It was more an act of attention gathering than a necessity as I gracefully rose my hand and snapped my fingers to open every door in the building. Hundreds of minds were astonished in an instant. People were connected. By admiration. By wonder. By fear. No one dared to say a word. Quietly, everyone came out of their cells, looked for a reaction and hesitantly decided to follow my path. I didn’t count the minutes it took me to go through the whole prison. Inmates and guards that did not see my marvel were either convinced or made an example. Most understood fast enough to simply join my following. If only a man could feel this glory. As I reached the heavy steel doors that were supposed to be the final hindrance of any uprising, I just made them disappear into thin air. Amazed mumbling arose with each wonder that I let happen. Every glimpse turned at the sky that had turned dark during my awakening. Grey flakes of ash calmly glided through the warm air. Thunder kept interrupting the silence and joined the grace of the lightings striking the earth. I steadily turned around as I felt everyone’s attention on me. So many questions. A wide grin. Hundreds of eyes lit up. The frightened crowd suddenly snapped into an angry mob of hate and contempt. That number of men contained so much strength that all at once turned on themselves. People started punching, kicking, biting each other. Men were being strangled, blood was being shed, lives were being ended. This was just the beginning. All these years of questions. What is right or wrong? What is good and evil? Today we got the answer. I am the answer. _____ Edit: Grammar and wording
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	It was around 3am when I awoke from my sudden realization. I sat up on the bunk they had given me. I thought to myself how much of a morbid joke it was when they actually obliged to my only wish to be executed on my birthday. The mortal version of me was quite the sentimental type, despite the lives I took. All of the lives I had taken were people who had cheated, killed, exploited, or caused mass distress. From unscrupulous pharmaceutical CEOs who had bent the law by lobbying politicians so they can sell their poison to the masses to those would who would prey on the young. The mortal version of me sought to bring justice to those who had evaded the flawed systems way of punishing those who do harm. I would not realize the irony of that venture until I was 30 in mortal years. It was quite sad really. They thought I created them in “my image” ha. If only they knew the truth. I gave them the resources and necessities to become something much better. I also gave them free will. The ultimate gift. You see, if not for that it would have been the equivalent of mindless drones doing the bidding of their omnipotent god. I did not want that, it would have been the most boring ego boost a god could ask for. I wanted them to use their gifts to enhance themselves and to learn the wonderful mysteries my domain offered them. They could have become my equals, no they could have become something much better. If they chose to just set aside greed. Ah yes, greed. One of the many byproducts of freewill. The very thing that has singlehandedly slowed the progress of their race. But, not all of them are so aware of how much it truly is slowing them down, but they will see very soon. I look around me and see the majority of the other mortals slumbering. I sense a guard walk up and notices me not following suit. Our eyes met and at that moment I saw into his soul. Every sin that he has ever committed was as clear as ever. The darkness that has attached to his soul has injected itself into a state of rot. It was a sight of true disgust, yet his mortal self was not aware of how much darkness was truly inside of him. “Why are you awake inmate?! Go back to sleep!” “Luke, do you think your wife knows?” “EXCUSE ME INMATE?!” “That you killed your own son. You know, the one you masterfully framed as a suicide by overdose. Because you found out he was fucking her.” His jaw dropped and he stuttered. “You came home early one day because there was no traffic on the way home, walked upstairs and heard moaning, only to hear your son fucking your new wife. You were filled with rage and wanted to pull out your 12 gauge you kept hidden in the garage. But, as you were about to do so. You stopped and just realized you would be sitting exactly where I’am today. So instead you formulated a plan, that involved spiking your sons marijuana with fentanyl while he was out. Because the state you live in, cannabis is illegal and still sold on the streets by local drug dealers that regularly spike their product.” “What are you talking about, you ar....” “Shhhh, don’t worry I’m not going to say anything. You’ll receive what’s due in time. Now I’m going to ask only once. Get me one of your uniforms, and escort me out of here with safe passage or suffer the consequences.” His look of worry, instantly turned into one of satisfaction. He eerily grinned at me, the same type of grin all the others had made when they knew they’ll never be punished for what they’ve done. After a few seconds he spoke again. “I’m not going to do that, besides you’re going to die later today and no one will even want to listen to you or even believe what you just said to me.” “So be it” I stood up, walked to the cell gate and just opened it. Luke pulled out his weapon while yelling at me to not step out or he will be forced to shoot. All this commotion awoke the other inmates and I could sense that the other guards clearly heard him yelling. “Look I don’t know how you know all that shit, but if you step out of that cell I will fucking lay you out!” The time for talk was over. I already knew he was going to attempt to kill me regardless if I stepped out or not, he was just as much of a monster as everyone behind the other cells. I stepped out of the cell and as I did, Luke had already emptied his weapons projectiles into me. But, I was not even phased that my mortal body was wounded. I felt no pain, a benefit of being a god. “What the fuck, HOW?!!” The other guards had appeared with weapons drawn, inmates yelling, alarms sounded, and Luke was just staring at the fresh blood that was oozing out of my body while I just stood there in the middle of this chaos, smiling to my divine self and said, “I believe many of your kind observed my actions a millennia ago and made a very accurate description of myself as to warn future generations. You see, I’m quite vengeful.”	As I woke up, I felt incredibly calm. Until this very morning, the past years had been a challenge for me that pushed me to my mental limits. I didn’t know what was right or wrong, what was good, what was evil. Was I going to hell? Was I the evil that people feared? Was all the blood for nothing? No more questions. Today I woke up and knew the answer. Thirty years in a mortal body brought me to this small, dreary cell that the people put me in to let me suffer until I finally got what they thought I deserved. These poor souls could not have known. When I did these crimes, I never regretted my actions. Now I know why. The walls of the room had numerous scratches that covered the cold white surface like scars. For years my anger, doubts and fears were displayed on these enclosures, but today was my time to smooth them out. This morning I was patient. I could have gotten out of this prison with ease at the very first moment I opened my new eyes. But instead, I would take my time. I had just realized what time actually means. To me, nothing. When the first guard came to my cell and barked out the usual instructions, I simply took my time to find eye contact. That shut him up immediately. An almost unnoticeable spark lit up his eyes and without any more words, he unlocked my cell door and stepped aside. Just a couple of hours ago, I would have gone trough all sorts of emotions ranging from glee to denial when this path opened. But right now, it was simply part of the higher plan. Hundreds of eyes laid on me as I slowly walked past the hall. I was able to hear their thoughts and feel their emotions. Most were confused and interested, some envied me, many were angry. “Hey, inmate! What are you doing?” A guard shouted at my back. In anticipation of the oncoming event, I formed a humble smile on my face. Certainly, there was a little bit left of my mortal self. Without turning around, I pursued my way along the far corridor. “Inmate! You are not allowed to be out here. Go back to your cell now or I have to use…” With his gun already pulled, he stopped in the middle of the sentence. The atmosphere in the building froze every thought and simultaneously made everyone feel unbearable heat. Sweat in every pore. People could sense, there was something divine going on. A short glace over my shoulder. Another pair of eyes lighting up. A final breath. The guard pointed the gun away from me and slowly turned it on himself. His teeth bit the barrel as he pulled the trigger. _Boom._ The dump sound of his body hitting the floor joined the ringing in people's ears that was left by the gunshot. For many of the present witnesses, a body with a fatal head wound was not a new sight. However, none of them had ever seen one dissolving into thousands of cockroaches and maggots within seconds. Every single one of them planting the feeling of chaos in everybody’s mind. With every further step I took, I could hear people dropping on their knees, praying and asking questions. Today, I knew the answer. It was more an act of attention gathering than a necessity as I gracefully rose my hand and snapped my fingers to open every door in the building. Hundreds of minds were astonished in an instant. People were connected. By admiration. By wonder. By fear. No one dared to say a word. Quietly, everyone came out of their cells, looked for a reaction and hesitantly decided to follow my path. I didn’t count the minutes it took me to go through the whole prison. Inmates and guards that did not see my marvel were either convinced or made an example. Most understood fast enough to simply join my following. If only a man could feel this glory. As I reached the heavy steel doors that were supposed to be the final hindrance of any uprising, I just made them disappear into thin air. Amazed mumbling arose with each wonder that I let happen. Every glimpse turned at the sky that had turned dark during my awakening. Grey flakes of ash calmly glided through the warm air. Thunder kept interrupting the silence and joined the grace of the lightings striking the earth. I steadily turned around as I felt everyone’s attention on me. So many questions. A wide grin. Hundreds of eyes lit up. The frightened crowd suddenly snapped into an angry mob of hate and contempt. That number of men contained so much strength that all at once turned on themselves. People started punching, kicking, biting each other. Men were being strangled, blood was being shed, lives were being ended. This was just the beginning. All these years of questions. What is right or wrong? What is good and evil? Today we got the answer. I am the answer. _____ Edit: Grammar and wording
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	“James Joseph…” The judge shuffles around a couple papers. “You have been found guilty of… over 14 hundred counts of first-degree murder,” She whispers quietly as she counts, “ over twelve hundred accounts of assault with a deadly weapon and,” Perplexed, she continues, “My God, this just seems to keep going. Do you have any last words?” James seems completely out of it. As if he had been pondering something deep. So deep, it stole every ounce of attention a human could give. “James!” Yells the judge as she snaps her fingers in his direction. “Hellooo!” “Oh.” He says as he snaps back. He takes a deep breath. And in a strikingly calm tone, “No…” “Alright-” The Judge readies her gavel. “I hear by sentence you too-” “I meant no… To the charges.” He interrupts. With a bewildering look, “Excuse me?” “I’ve actually just remembered…” He rises to his feet. The prison clothing and chains that were once wrapped around his body- pass through him, as if he was made of air. They float to the ground as this muscular naked man stands at his table. A collective gasp follows as everyone in the room looks upon him. “I… apologizes, but I have somewhere to be.” He steps around his table and beings to slowly approach the judge. “What the- Guards, constrain him!” She yells out. “Sir! get back!” Yells one of the guards as he and other officers rush towards him. They dive towards him. Arms stretched out, thinking their tackle will take him down easily. But they also phase right through, Hitting the ground hard letting out a yelp in pain. James reaches the foot of the judge's podium and everyone beings to scream and panic. “Everyone!” Yells James, settling the room for a moment. “I am deeply sorry for the hurt that I’ve caused upon you people. To break hearts was never my intention. But they are truly in a better place now. And in time, you too will see it.” He pauses and looks deeply into others faces. “Some sooner than others. But I promise you will all see it… You all shall not suffer for long. But my time with you is finished and I must be on my way. I’m sorry.” James closes his eyes, bows his head. As he stands there, his entire body begins to glow. His glow is so bright, people shield their eyes to not be blinded. Then suddenly, crash. The ceiling has a large scorched hole leading up and out towards the sky. James is gone. And the words “I love you all” is burned into the wood panels were he last stood. Everyone is speechless. &#x200B; Sometime later. \Hox News Theme\ Breaking news from the trial of the century. James Joseph, Americas most wanted criminal has apparently exploded into energy and was last seen bursting out of the roof of the Washington Court House. Officials are still trying to understand what just happened. But it is clear the James has vanished. All the churches all over the world are going absolutely bananas at the potential of the second coming of Christ. But who really knows? More on this at noon.	As I woke up, I felt incredibly calm. Until this very morning, the past years had been a challenge for me that pushed me to my mental limits. I didn’t know what was right or wrong, what was good, what was evil. Was I going to hell? Was I the evil that people feared? Was all the blood for nothing? No more questions. Today I woke up and knew the answer. Thirty years in a mortal body brought me to this small, dreary cell that the people put me in to let me suffer until I finally got what they thought I deserved. These poor souls could not have known. When I did these crimes, I never regretted my actions. Now I know why. The walls of the room had numerous scratches that covered the cold white surface like scars. For years my anger, doubts and fears were displayed on these enclosures, but today was my time to smooth them out. This morning I was patient. I could have gotten out of this prison with ease at the very first moment I opened my new eyes. But instead, I would take my time. I had just realized what time actually means. To me, nothing. When the first guard came to my cell and barked out the usual instructions, I simply took my time to find eye contact. That shut him up immediately. An almost unnoticeable spark lit up his eyes and without any more words, he unlocked my cell door and stepped aside. Just a couple of hours ago, I would have gone trough all sorts of emotions ranging from glee to denial when this path opened. But right now, it was simply part of the higher plan. Hundreds of eyes laid on me as I slowly walked past the hall. I was able to hear their thoughts and feel their emotions. Most were confused and interested, some envied me, many were angry. “Hey, inmate! What are you doing?” A guard shouted at my back. In anticipation of the oncoming event, I formed a humble smile on my face. Certainly, there was a little bit left of my mortal self. Without turning around, I pursued my way along the far corridor. “Inmate! You are not allowed to be out here. Go back to your cell now or I have to use…” With his gun already pulled, he stopped in the middle of the sentence. The atmosphere in the building froze every thought and simultaneously made everyone feel unbearable heat. Sweat in every pore. People could sense, there was something divine going on. A short glace over my shoulder. Another pair of eyes lighting up. A final breath. The guard pointed the gun away from me and slowly turned it on himself. His teeth bit the barrel as he pulled the trigger. _Boom._ The dump sound of his body hitting the floor joined the ringing in people's ears that was left by the gunshot. For many of the present witnesses, a body with a fatal head wound was not a new sight. However, none of them had ever seen one dissolving into thousands of cockroaches and maggots within seconds. Every single one of them planting the feeling of chaos in everybody’s mind. With every further step I took, I could hear people dropping on their knees, praying and asking questions. Today, I knew the answer. It was more an act of attention gathering than a necessity as I gracefully rose my hand and snapped my fingers to open every door in the building. Hundreds of minds were astonished in an instant. People were connected. By admiration. By wonder. By fear. No one dared to say a word. Quietly, everyone came out of their cells, looked for a reaction and hesitantly decided to follow my path. I didn’t count the minutes it took me to go through the whole prison. Inmates and guards that did not see my marvel were either convinced or made an example. Most understood fast enough to simply join my following. If only a man could feel this glory. As I reached the heavy steel doors that were supposed to be the final hindrance of any uprising, I just made them disappear into thin air. Amazed mumbling arose with each wonder that I let happen. Every glimpse turned at the sky that had turned dark during my awakening. Grey flakes of ash calmly glided through the warm air. Thunder kept interrupting the silence and joined the grace of the lightings striking the earth. I steadily turned around as I felt everyone’s attention on me. So many questions. A wide grin. Hundreds of eyes lit up. The frightened crowd suddenly snapped into an angry mob of hate and contempt. That number of men contained so much strength that all at once turned on themselves. People started punching, kicking, biting each other. Men were being strangled, blood was being shed, lives were being ended. This was just the beginning. All these years of questions. What is right or wrong? What is good and evil? Today we got the answer. I am the answer. _____ Edit: Grammar and wording
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	"Well. I sure screwed this up. No matter, once I die, back to heaven for me", God said. Then in flash of blinding light and choir singing only God could hear and see, St. Peter arrives in the cell. Peter looks at God and says, "we've got a problem my Lord. It turns out by the rules you laid out in the creation of existence. You are going to be damned to hell." "The hell you say!" God replied. "I'm afraid so" , says Peter. God stands up and proclaims to Peter, "once I'm free of this mortal form. I'll have my divine nature back. I'll simply will myself back to heaven." "And in doing so you'll break Creation. There is only one way for you to escape damnation without bringing about the end times." Peter remarks as he sits God back down on his bunk. God says to Peter while looking a little cross, "Enlighten this mere mortal if you would Peter." Peter grabs the prison bible from the table, leans over to God's ear while handing it to him. Then Peter whispers while pointing down the hall to the Priest and Warden coming closer, "you need to pray to Jesus and ask his forgiveness. You have to mean it too." Peter poofs away in a flutter of brilliant white feathers. God can only stare at the wall and mutter, "shit".	As I woke up, I felt incredibly calm. Until this very morning, the past years had been a challenge for me that pushed me to my mental limits. I didn’t know what was right or wrong, what was good, what was evil. Was I going to hell? Was I the evil that people feared? Was all the blood for nothing? No more questions. Today I woke up and knew the answer. Thirty years in a mortal body brought me to this small, dreary cell that the people put me in to let me suffer until I finally got what they thought I deserved. These poor souls could not have known. When I did these crimes, I never regretted my actions. Now I know why. The walls of the room had numerous scratches that covered the cold white surface like scars. For years my anger, doubts and fears were displayed on these enclosures, but today was my time to smooth them out. This morning I was patient. I could have gotten out of this prison with ease at the very first moment I opened my new eyes. But instead, I would take my time. I had just realized what time actually means. To me, nothing. When the first guard came to my cell and barked out the usual instructions, I simply took my time to find eye contact. That shut him up immediately. An almost unnoticeable spark lit up his eyes and without any more words, he unlocked my cell door and stepped aside. Just a couple of hours ago, I would have gone trough all sorts of emotions ranging from glee to denial when this path opened. But right now, it was simply part of the higher plan. Hundreds of eyes laid on me as I slowly walked past the hall. I was able to hear their thoughts and feel their emotions. Most were confused and interested, some envied me, many were angry. “Hey, inmate! What are you doing?” A guard shouted at my back. In anticipation of the oncoming event, I formed a humble smile on my face. Certainly, there was a little bit left of my mortal self. Without turning around, I pursued my way along the far corridor. “Inmate! You are not allowed to be out here. Go back to your cell now or I have to use…” With his gun already pulled, he stopped in the middle of the sentence. The atmosphere in the building froze every thought and simultaneously made everyone feel unbearable heat. Sweat in every pore. People could sense, there was something divine going on. A short glace over my shoulder. Another pair of eyes lighting up. A final breath. The guard pointed the gun away from me and slowly turned it on himself. His teeth bit the barrel as he pulled the trigger. _Boom._ The dump sound of his body hitting the floor joined the ringing in people's ears that was left by the gunshot. For many of the present witnesses, a body with a fatal head wound was not a new sight. However, none of them had ever seen one dissolving into thousands of cockroaches and maggots within seconds. Every single one of them planting the feeling of chaos in everybody’s mind. With every further step I took, I could hear people dropping on their knees, praying and asking questions. Today, I knew the answer. It was more an act of attention gathering than a necessity as I gracefully rose my hand and snapped my fingers to open every door in the building. Hundreds of minds were astonished in an instant. People were connected. By admiration. By wonder. By fear. No one dared to say a word. Quietly, everyone came out of their cells, looked for a reaction and hesitantly decided to follow my path. I didn’t count the minutes it took me to go through the whole prison. Inmates and guards that did not see my marvel were either convinced or made an example. Most understood fast enough to simply join my following. If only a man could feel this glory. As I reached the heavy steel doors that were supposed to be the final hindrance of any uprising, I just made them disappear into thin air. Amazed mumbling arose with each wonder that I let happen. Every glimpse turned at the sky that had turned dark during my awakening. Grey flakes of ash calmly glided through the warm air. Thunder kept interrupting the silence and joined the grace of the lightings striking the earth. I steadily turned around as I felt everyone’s attention on me. So many questions. A wide grin. Hundreds of eyes lit up. The frightened crowd suddenly snapped into an angry mob of hate and contempt. That number of men contained so much strength that all at once turned on themselves. People started punching, kicking, biting each other. Men were being strangled, blood was being shed, lives were being ended. This was just the beginning. All these years of questions. What is right or wrong? What is good and evil? Today we got the answer. I am the answer. _____ Edit: Grammar and wording
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Ah, I said to myself, so they don't like it when you do that. I had perfect memory in that moment, my transcendence repurposing my powers as I saw fit according to my holy whims. I could feel the blood dripping down my hands, each life taken no less recent to my mind than the present. The screams, the emotions flushing across their faces, even the chemical computers coursing through their veins as open to me as my own thoughts. Funny, though, they didn't always get so upset about it. I guess it gets harder over time. Where was my notebook again?... —ah! I scribbled my findings down below the other notes. `6. Thou shalt not kill.` The clock reset and I settled in for another round. This was going to be a good one, I could feel it.	As I woke up, I felt incredibly calm. Until this very morning, the past years had been a challenge for me that pushed me to my mental limits. I didn’t know what was right or wrong, what was good, what was evil. Was I going to hell? Was I the evil that people feared? Was all the blood for nothing? No more questions. Today I woke up and knew the answer. Thirty years in a mortal body brought me to this small, dreary cell that the people put me in to let me suffer until I finally got what they thought I deserved. These poor souls could not have known. When I did these crimes, I never regretted my actions. Now I know why. The walls of the room had numerous scratches that covered the cold white surface like scars. For years my anger, doubts and fears were displayed on these enclosures, but today was my time to smooth them out. This morning I was patient. I could have gotten out of this prison with ease at the very first moment I opened my new eyes. But instead, I would take my time. I had just realized what time actually means. To me, nothing. When the first guard came to my cell and barked out the usual instructions, I simply took my time to find eye contact. That shut him up immediately. An almost unnoticeable spark lit up his eyes and without any more words, he unlocked my cell door and stepped aside. Just a couple of hours ago, I would have gone trough all sorts of emotions ranging from glee to denial when this path opened. But right now, it was simply part of the higher plan. Hundreds of eyes laid on me as I slowly walked past the hall. I was able to hear their thoughts and feel their emotions. Most were confused and interested, some envied me, many were angry. “Hey, inmate! What are you doing?” A guard shouted at my back. In anticipation of the oncoming event, I formed a humble smile on my face. Certainly, there was a little bit left of my mortal self. Without turning around, I pursued my way along the far corridor. “Inmate! You are not allowed to be out here. Go back to your cell now or I have to use…” With his gun already pulled, he stopped in the middle of the sentence. The atmosphere in the building froze every thought and simultaneously made everyone feel unbearable heat. Sweat in every pore. People could sense, there was something divine going on. A short glace over my shoulder. Another pair of eyes lighting up. A final breath. The guard pointed the gun away from me and slowly turned it on himself. His teeth bit the barrel as he pulled the trigger. _Boom._ The dump sound of his body hitting the floor joined the ringing in people's ears that was left by the gunshot. For many of the present witnesses, a body with a fatal head wound was not a new sight. However, none of them had ever seen one dissolving into thousands of cockroaches and maggots within seconds. Every single one of them planting the feeling of chaos in everybody’s mind. With every further step I took, I could hear people dropping on their knees, praying and asking questions. Today, I knew the answer. It was more an act of attention gathering than a necessity as I gracefully rose my hand and snapped my fingers to open every door in the building. Hundreds of minds were astonished in an instant. People were connected. By admiration. By wonder. By fear. No one dared to say a word. Quietly, everyone came out of their cells, looked for a reaction and hesitantly decided to follow my path. I didn’t count the minutes it took me to go through the whole prison. Inmates and guards that did not see my marvel were either convinced or made an example. Most understood fast enough to simply join my following. If only a man could feel this glory. As I reached the heavy steel doors that were supposed to be the final hindrance of any uprising, I just made them disappear into thin air. Amazed mumbling arose with each wonder that I let happen. Every glimpse turned at the sky that had turned dark during my awakening. Grey flakes of ash calmly glided through the warm air. Thunder kept interrupting the silence and joined the grace of the lightings striking the earth. I steadily turned around as I felt everyone’s attention on me. So many questions. A wide grin. Hundreds of eyes lit up. The frightened crowd suddenly snapped into an angry mob of hate and contempt. That number of men contained so much strength that all at once turned on themselves. People started punching, kicking, biting each other. Men were being strangled, blood was being shed, lives were being ended. This was just the beginning. All these years of questions. What is right or wrong? What is good and evil? Today we got the answer. I am the answer. _____ Edit: Grammar and wording
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	It was around 3am when I awoke from my sudden realization. I sat up on the bunk they had given me. I thought to myself how much of a morbid joke it was when they actually obliged to my only wish to be executed on my birthday. The mortal version of me was quite the sentimental type, despite the lives I took. All of the lives I had taken were people who had cheated, killed, exploited, or caused mass distress. From unscrupulous pharmaceutical CEOs who had bent the law by lobbying politicians so they can sell their poison to the masses to those would who would prey on the young. The mortal version of me sought to bring justice to those who had evaded the flawed systems way of punishing those who do harm. I would not realize the irony of that venture until I was 30 in mortal years. It was quite sad really. They thought I created them in “my image” ha. If only they knew the truth. I gave them the resources and necessities to become something much better. I also gave them free will. The ultimate gift. You see, if not for that it would have been the equivalent of mindless drones doing the bidding of their omnipotent god. I did not want that, it would have been the most boring ego boost a god could ask for. I wanted them to use their gifts to enhance themselves and to learn the wonderful mysteries my domain offered them. They could have become my equals, no they could have become something much better. If they chose to just set aside greed. Ah yes, greed. One of the many byproducts of freewill. The very thing that has singlehandedly slowed the progress of their race. But, not all of them are so aware of how much it truly is slowing them down, but they will see very soon. I look around me and see the majority of the other mortals slumbering. I sense a guard walk up and notices me not following suit. Our eyes met and at that moment I saw into his soul. Every sin that he has ever committed was as clear as ever. The darkness that has attached to his soul has injected itself into a state of rot. It was a sight of true disgust, yet his mortal self was not aware of how much darkness was truly inside of him. “Why are you awake inmate?! Go back to sleep!” “Luke, do you think your wife knows?” “EXCUSE ME INMATE?!” “That you killed your own son. You know, the one you masterfully framed as a suicide by overdose. Because you found out he was fucking her.” His jaw dropped and he stuttered. “You came home early one day because there was no traffic on the way home, walked upstairs and heard moaning, only to hear your son fucking your new wife. You were filled with rage and wanted to pull out your 12 gauge you kept hidden in the garage. But, as you were about to do so. You stopped and just realized you would be sitting exactly where I’am today. So instead you formulated a plan, that involved spiking your sons marijuana with fentanyl while he was out. Because the state you live in, cannabis is illegal and still sold on the streets by local drug dealers that regularly spike their product.” “What are you talking about, you ar....” “Shhhh, don’t worry I’m not going to say anything. You’ll receive what’s due in time. Now I’m going to ask only once. Get me one of your uniforms, and escort me out of here with safe passage or suffer the consequences.” His look of worry, instantly turned into one of satisfaction. He eerily grinned at me, the same type of grin all the others had made when they knew they’ll never be punished for what they’ve done. After a few seconds he spoke again. “I’m not going to do that, besides you’re going to die later today and no one will even want to listen to you or even believe what you just said to me.” “So be it” I stood up, walked to the cell gate and just opened it. Luke pulled out his weapon while yelling at me to not step out or he will be forced to shoot. All this commotion awoke the other inmates and I could sense that the other guards clearly heard him yelling. “Look I don’t know how you know all that shit, but if you step out of that cell I will fucking lay you out!” The time for talk was over. I already knew he was going to attempt to kill me regardless if I stepped out or not, he was just as much of a monster as everyone behind the other cells. I stepped out of the cell and as I did, Luke had already emptied his weapons projectiles into me. But, I was not even phased that my mortal body was wounded. I felt no pain, a benefit of being a god. “What the fuck, HOW?!!” The other guards had appeared with weapons drawn, inmates yelling, alarms sounded, and Luke was just staring at the fresh blood that was oozing out of my body while I just stood there in the middle of this chaos, smiling to my divine self and said, “I believe many of your kind observed my actions a millennia ago and made a very accurate description of myself as to warn future generations. You see, I’m quite vengeful.”	Five minutes till midnight. They say they have a metaphorical clock that ticks closer the more humanity stumbles its way towards an inevitable end and that five minutes to midnight means that things are not going well. Funny thing about that tendency for self destruction is that it was something that I never had. I may have made them in my image but they've progressed in ways that even I couldn't have even begun to fathom. I made a world for them and they decided that it was too small...so they pushed the boundaries to seek what was beyond their proverbial bird cage. Four minutes till midnight. Honestly, I'm impressed, some call it arrogance and others claim that sometimes humanity goes too far and 'plays God'. That turn of phrase always amused me... I mean, why wouldn't they play God? Most children want to be just like their fathers, right? They should be commended, finding ways to shape the world and to seek what lies beyond the scope of their vision. Three minutes till midnight. So, for once, I thought God should play at being human... I wanted to see it from their perspective. Admittedly, this is not what I had imagined. But despite what they believe, even I am not infallible. In order to get this right, I made sure I was a blank slate. The idea was simple, the knowledge of who I am leaves me just before birth and it returns just before death...so it would seem I'm not getting out of this. Two minutes till midnight. I only barely y remember how it happened, to be honest; a troubled childhood, a few bullies and an absent father... I see how difficult it can be for them. Nevertheless, I am guilty of the crime, ten murders over five years...five long years without bring caught and then one small slip up and I'm where I am now. And now with the burden of knowledge. One minute till midnight. Do I feel guilt for these crimes? I'm not entirely sure; this was always a possibility and I was prepared to accept it. But this is their world, not mine. I may have gave the guideline, but I didn't set them in stone...but I sure am going to play by them. And now it's time. The midnight hands. The empty silence is interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway as the guard came closer. The door swung open, the man pulling me to my feet as he led me on what seemed to be the longest walk of my life. The man sat me upon the chair, taking care to secure the straps as he stepped back. Curiosity overcame me as I looked back at him. "How does it feel to play God?" I asked him, awaiting his response as he stared down his nose at me. No answer came but I chuckled to myself as I spoke out one last time. "May God have mercy on my soul."
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	"Well. I sure screwed this up. No matter, once I die, back to heaven for me", God said. Then in flash of blinding light and choir singing only God could hear and see, St. Peter arrives in the cell. Peter looks at God and says, "we've got a problem my Lord. It turns out by the rules you laid out in the creation of existence. You are going to be damned to hell." "The hell you say!" God replied. "I'm afraid so" , says Peter. God stands up and proclaims to Peter, "once I'm free of this mortal form. I'll have my divine nature back. I'll simply will myself back to heaven." "And in doing so you'll break Creation. There is only one way for you to escape damnation without bringing about the end times." Peter remarks as he sits God back down on his bunk. God says to Peter while looking a little cross, "Enlighten this mere mortal if you would Peter." Peter grabs the prison bible from the table, leans over to God's ear while handing it to him. Then Peter whispers while pointing down the hall to the Priest and Warden coming closer, "you need to pray to Jesus and ask his forgiveness. You have to mean it too." Peter poofs away in a flutter of brilliant white feathers. God can only stare at the wall and mutter, "shit".	“James Joseph…” The judge shuffles around a couple papers. “You have been found guilty of… over 14 hundred counts of first-degree murder,” She whispers quietly as she counts, “ over twelve hundred accounts of assault with a deadly weapon and,” Perplexed, she continues, “My God, this just seems to keep going. Do you have any last words?” James seems completely out of it. As if he had been pondering something deep. So deep, it stole every ounce of attention a human could give. “James!” Yells the judge as she snaps her fingers in his direction. “Hellooo!” “Oh.” He says as he snaps back. He takes a deep breath. And in a strikingly calm tone, “No…” “Alright-” The Judge readies her gavel. “I hear by sentence you too-” “I meant no… To the charges.” He interrupts. With a bewildering look, “Excuse me?” “I’ve actually just remembered…” He rises to his feet. The prison clothing and chains that were once wrapped around his body- pass through him, as if he was made of air. They float to the ground as this muscular naked man stands at his table. A collective gasp follows as everyone in the room looks upon him. “I… apologizes, but I have somewhere to be.” He steps around his table and beings to slowly approach the judge. “What the- Guards, constrain him!” She yells out. “Sir! get back!” Yells one of the guards as he and other officers rush towards him. They dive towards him. Arms stretched out, thinking their tackle will take him down easily. But they also phase right through, Hitting the ground hard letting out a yelp in pain. James reaches the foot of the judge's podium and everyone beings to scream and panic. “Everyone!” Yells James, settling the room for a moment. “I am deeply sorry for the hurt that I’ve caused upon you people. To break hearts was never my intention. But they are truly in a better place now. And in time, you too will see it.” He pauses and looks deeply into others faces. “Some sooner than others. But I promise you will all see it… You all shall not suffer for long. But my time with you is finished and I must be on my way. I’m sorry.” James closes his eyes, bows his head. As he stands there, his entire body begins to glow. His glow is so bright, people shield their eyes to not be blinded. Then suddenly, crash. The ceiling has a large scorched hole leading up and out towards the sky. James is gone. And the words “I love you all” is burned into the wood panels were he last stood. Everyone is speechless. &#x200B; Sometime later. \Hox News Theme\ Breaking news from the trial of the century. James Joseph, Americas most wanted criminal has apparently exploded into energy and was last seen bursting out of the roof of the Washington Court House. Officials are still trying to understand what just happened. But it is clear the James has vanished. All the churches all over the world are going absolutely bananas at the potential of the second coming of Christ. But who really knows? More on this at noon.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Ah, I said to myself, so they don't like it when you do that. I had perfect memory in that moment, my transcendence repurposing my powers as I saw fit according to my holy whims. I could feel the blood dripping down my hands, each life taken no less recent to my mind than the present. The screams, the emotions flushing across their faces, even the chemical computers coursing through their veins as open to me as my own thoughts. Funny, though, they didn't always get so upset about it. I guess it gets harder over time. Where was my notebook again?... —ah! I scribbled my findings down below the other notes. `6. Thou shalt not kill.` The clock reset and I settled in for another round. This was going to be a good one, I could feel it.	“James Joseph…” The judge shuffles around a couple papers. “You have been found guilty of… over 14 hundred counts of first-degree murder,” She whispers quietly as she counts, “ over twelve hundred accounts of assault with a deadly weapon and,” Perplexed, she continues, “My God, this just seems to keep going. Do you have any last words?” James seems completely out of it. As if he had been pondering something deep. So deep, it stole every ounce of attention a human could give. “James!” Yells the judge as she snaps her fingers in his direction. “Hellooo!” “Oh.” He says as he snaps back. He takes a deep breath. And in a strikingly calm tone, “No…” “Alright-” The Judge readies her gavel. “I hear by sentence you too-” “I meant no… To the charges.” He interrupts. With a bewildering look, “Excuse me?” “I’ve actually just remembered…” He rises to his feet. The prison clothing and chains that were once wrapped around his body- pass through him, as if he was made of air. They float to the ground as this muscular naked man stands at his table. A collective gasp follows as everyone in the room looks upon him. “I… apologizes, but I have somewhere to be.” He steps around his table and beings to slowly approach the judge. “What the- Guards, constrain him!” She yells out. “Sir! get back!” Yells one of the guards as he and other officers rush towards him. They dive towards him. Arms stretched out, thinking their tackle will take him down easily. But they also phase right through, Hitting the ground hard letting out a yelp in pain. James reaches the foot of the judge's podium and everyone beings to scream and panic. “Everyone!” Yells James, settling the room for a moment. “I am deeply sorry for the hurt that I’ve caused upon you people. To break hearts was never my intention. But they are truly in a better place now. And in time, you too will see it.” He pauses and looks deeply into others faces. “Some sooner than others. But I promise you will all see it… You all shall not suffer for long. But my time with you is finished and I must be on my way. I’m sorry.” James closes his eyes, bows his head. As he stands there, his entire body begins to glow. His glow is so bright, people shield their eyes to not be blinded. Then suddenly, crash. The ceiling has a large scorched hole leading up and out towards the sky. James is gone. And the words “I love you all” is burned into the wood panels were he last stood. Everyone is speechless. &#x200B; Sometime later. \Hox News Theme\ Breaking news from the trial of the century. James Joseph, Americas most wanted criminal has apparently exploded into energy and was last seen bursting out of the roof of the Washington Court House. Officials are still trying to understand what just happened. But it is clear the James has vanished. All the churches all over the world are going absolutely bananas at the potential of the second coming of Christ. But who really knows? More on this at noon.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.	[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.	Ah, I said to myself, so they don't like it when you do that. I had perfect memory in that moment, my transcendence repurposing my powers as I saw fit according to my holy whims. I could feel the blood dripping down my hands, each life taken no less recent to my mind than the present. The screams, the emotions flushing across their faces, even the chemical computers coursing through their veins as open to me as my own thoughts. Funny, though, they didn't always get so upset about it. I guess it gets harder over time. Where was my notebook again?... —ah! I scribbled my findings down below the other notes. `6. Thou shalt not kill.` The clock reset and I settled in for another round. This was going to be a good one, I could feel it.	Everyone is watching me, but I am at peace with it. That is what they will never understand, with all the apologies I’ve had to make and the people screaming at me outside of the courthouse and all the witnesses who cursed and called me the Devil. That one was funny to me, but I don’t know why. They will never know that I am at peace with it all. There were many, many people I helped, and every time I remember one, I have no regrets. I knew, I always knew... “Do you have any last words?” I have been watching her for weeks, trying to see what kind of life she leads, trying to see if there is a light at the end of the cold, dark tunnel she lives in. Her bedroom window is open, and every night after she puts the kids to bed, she sits and cries, and eventually falls asleep, hopefully dreaming of something besides her own emptiness. One night, when he kids are at a friend’s, I enter her apartment. She sees the gun, and she seems to know. “Thank you,” she says softly after I tell her about the life insurance policy. “I’m so tired.” “You did the best you could,” I say. “After this, you can rest. Are you afraid?” “No…should I be?” “No. Good people like you go somewhere good. You won’t have to cry anymore.” “My kids will be okay?” “They will.” A few nights later, she accepts what I have to give her. She smiles as she leaves, and I feel a bit of sadness twisting her facial expression into one of horror for the police. “No.” He is okay with his life. His children have robbed him of all his money, and soon his house will be taken and he will be sent to a facility. His wife is long gone, and most days he seems content to bask in their memories, looking through old photo albums. It’s all he can do to hold on to his fading mind. I visit him, before he seems to go completely. “What did I do wrong?” he asks. “Why are they gone?” “Nothing,” I say. “Sometimes, that’s all you can do. Your best, and they still leave. It is not your fault.” “It feels like God has left me…like he forgot about me, and I'm just wasting away here.” “God never forgets,” I say with as much conviction as I can muster. “He’s waiting for you on the other side. Do you want to go?” He looks at me for a long time, perhaps seeing something I do not. “Is she waiting for me too?” “Yes,” I say. “I’m certain.” “Then okay,” he says. He hugs me as I take him. He, too, has a smile on his face, a childlike, excited one. This time, I leave it there. “Then it’s time.” They brought a priest for me to confess to, a few days before the chair. I expected him to be like the others, but he didn’t judge or criticize or call me a monster. He listened, so I told him why. “Do you hate me?” I ask him. “No. I don’t hate you. I feel bad for you. You’re still a young man. Your life is ahead of you. The future was endless. And now it is gone.” “I feel at peace. With everything I’ve done.” “Then stay that way. It’s what God would want. He would want you to have peace at the end.” “I agree.” I sit there, waiting for it. I look ahead, at the white wall. I hear the death trap powering up, and I wonder what awaits for me on the other side. Just as everything reaches a fever pitch, the voices, a scream, the machinery… Clarity. Light, so much of it, the light I always believed was there, always suspected, finally floods my eyes…
	[WP] An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.	\At the year in demon review\ "Gordon tell us why you're still living with that old woman and haven't eaten her soul yet. It says here you're resigning?" &#x200B; "Yeah well I mean I came to like eat her soul, ya know, and she just was all like... Barry? You're home already? I made you some cookies... And I'm like okay maybe we can see where this goes, I do like cookies. There's nothing in the rule book about being offered cookies so I just winged it. And so then like after I had the cookies, she's all like... I like your new outfit. You teenagers are so expressive with your creativity. And then I got this kinda warm and fuzzy feeling ya know, like I didn't even think about eating her soul in that moment, because no one's ever complimented me on my outfit. I work really really hard on it. It's not my fault that it scares people. She wasn't afraid she was just so caring and compassionate and she gave me cookies. I had to tell her after the first year of her taking care of me that I wasn't her grandson. She was like oh I knew that silly, I just didn't want to freak you out. You tried so hard to scare me and I wanted to give you a way out of that life. One thing led to another and now we have 3 kids together. My youngest we named Barry, he's in little league. He's got one hell of a pitch....heh... She never actually had any kids or grandkids. I should have known that, it was on the report.. So yeah it's been fun. We had a lot of laughs, and I've enjoyed my time here at hell... being a field representative has given me the opportunity of a lifetime. Of many lifetimes. But I just feel it's in both our best interests to part ways. I know it's 1000 years before my contract is up but I'm prepared to let go of my 401k and my 666k and my right to free cookies in the break room. My baby got all the cookies I need."	Why Florence never bothered to label her spice rack correctly has been bothering her family ever since the incident. It was such a simple mistake, but the price was terrible. 'Chicken and Chorizo with paprika and red wine' was on the menu tonight, and Florence was wholeheartedly looking forward to it. And this is where the trouble started. Instead of adding a teaspoon of paprika to the pot, Florence added a teaspoon of Satan's blood. As the smoke dissipated from the kitchen, Florence spied a most dreadful creature. The putrid smell emanating from it was almost more than Florence could bear. It's eyes were black, and its face was pale and poxy. It was garbed purely in black and the hair appeared greasy and unkempt. There were some types of ornamental jewellery inserted in various parts of its face. The lips, surprisingly, were a deep blood red colour. Both of its arms were encased in a fibreglass cast, the modern equivalent of plaster-of-paris. "Nigel?, is that you? I haven't seen you for such a long time." exclaimed Florence. Nigel was the wayward son of her very own dis-functional daughter, but she loved him all the same. "N ma rlgl he cnbb oep" said the creature. Florence laughed on the inside; Nigel may look a bit different, but he sounded just the same as always, if not the same as any other teenager. Around this time, the creature's demeanour changed; it appeared to be more agitated, and waved its arms around while chanting "hnal he dnl fnhsr". Suddenly it dawned on Florence what was going on. "Nigel,", she said, "I see you have two broken arms. I have a feeling that is why you are so downright cranky today. Would you like grandma to jerk you off?"
	[WP] An amendment was made to the Constitution. Citizens can now only use firearms and weapons that were around in the revolutionary war. A group of criminals with modern weapons breaks into your house, hoping for an easy score. Little did they know you were prepared for this moment.	I can hear the thieves walking around the first floor of my apartment. I belly crawl along the landing and up to the railing and peek downstairs. They’re dressed in classic hoodies with black ski masks, carrying assault rifles they must have picked up on the Canadian black market. I breathe quietly and wait until all three are facing the other way, then quickly point my ray gun at each in turn, vaporizing them. When I’m brought before the judge, she asks me, “Dr. Melissa Yang, you have been an upstanding citizen and research faculty in the Practical Temporal Displacement department at the University of New Washington. Do you have anything to say in your defense for using these anachronistic weapons in violation of the 45th Amendment to the US Constitution?” My reply: “It didn’t specify which revolutionary war.”	I heard the door breaking and quickly crouched by the cannon, gun powder and match in hand. They burst through the door, assault riffles in hand. "You, check the bedroom. Someone's here," the leader in front said. I lit the match and it caught the fuse. "What's that sound?" Another one asked. "Boom goes the cannon!" I yelled, covering my ears. I only glimsped their horror as the cannon fired. Of the five, the two in front dove out of the way in time. The remaining three were blasted back out the front door and lay still on the lawn. I grabbed the bayonet and prepared to face the final intruders. It was already loaded and ready to fire. "Don't move," I ordered, aiming the gun at the one who was closest. He raised his gun towards me. I fired the gun and missed my initial aim of his gun hand. I did, however, hit him in the bicep. He dropped the gun and I turned my attention to the other one. She was smaller and had her weapon had flown out of her hand. She was reaching for it. I stabbed the bayonet in between her fingers. "Don't even think about it," I warned. The police would be arriving soon, thanks to my new security system. I smiled to myself. "And my neighbors said I was crazy for investing in these weapons," I thought to myself.
	[WP] You are the world's first human born with edited DNA. You were born with no defects and had a healthy, happy childhood. It was only when puberty set in that the glitches started happening...	The first time I knew something was up was when I woke up at 3 AM, my head throbbing from some obscenely loud noise that I could not quite place. And there it was again. A constant pulse, something fuzzy and resonant that I seemed to feel with every atom of my body. There was more. A hiss that sounded like I was in the eye of a hurricane. The beeping of phones. The thrum of engines that was unmistakable despite my street being completely devoid of passing cars. I could hear everything. And then I couldn’t. Convinced that it was just a figment of my imagination, brought on by exhaustion after eight hours straight of playing video games, I flopped back down onto my bed and went back to sleep. The next time it happened, I was riding my bike with my best friend Joey. It was mid-fall; the roads were slightly slippery after the shower this morning, and as such I was not entirely surprised when my tires gave as I attempted a particularly steep bend and I tumbled ungracefully onto the concrete. What I didn’t expect was Joey’s face to go stark white. “Dude— dude, holy crap, I gotta call someone, that looks— I don’t know what to do, what do I— I should call 911, yeah, I’m just gonna—“ “Call 911? Why?” I interrupted. It was almost like Joey had been the one to fall instead of me, and he’d hit his head or something and begun to babble like a crazy person on TV. “Chill out, man, I only bruised myself—“ But it was then that I saw the bone sticking out of my leg, white and thin and coated in something sticky. As if i’m a trance, I reached out and touched it. I felt no pain whatsoever. And then I fainted. When I came to, it was in a hospital bed. Most people would welcome strong doses of anesthesia, but I was grateful for the fact that I could feel the throb of my leg underneath the giant cast that covered it. A swarm of doctors surrounded me; it was only when I sat up that I saw my parents standing at the foot of my bed. “Oh, honey,” said my mom, before starting to cry. I looked at my dad in desperation, hoping for answers, but he couldn’t meet my eyes, instead turning to my mother and holding her to him tightly. “Someone needs to tell me what’s up,” I croaked at the doctors, who at least had the decency to meet my gaze. They were all silent, though, until at last one spoke up: “Son, you’re now the most fascinating person in the world to the medical community and the government.” “I don’t understand,” I said. “You know Spider-Man?” I nodded. “Like that. Only, instead of a radioactive spider, it’s genetic modification. And instead of webs, it’s— well, we’re gonna have to wait and see if something sticks.” “So am I gonna... be okay?” I asked, not really comprehending. Mom sobbed louder. The first doctor paused before answering. “I think you’re going to be more than okay,” he said, but there was an unfriendly glimmer to his eye that made my blood run deathly cold.	Off-Topic Discussion: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. #####Reminder for Writers and Readers: * Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail. * Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback. ----- [](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat) I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.
	[WP] In your adolescence, and struggling with depression, you hired a hitman on yourself to take you out at an undisclosed time. Since then, you've become much happier and have found yourself in a better place. This morning, you woke up with a text from an unknown number on your phone: "It's done."	I stared at my phone, unable to move. I was a in a dark place, a really, really, dark place a few years ago. But I was terrified of dying, absolutely so. Still, I had given up. I knew I wouldn't be able to do it myself, but I also knew if I had an idea of when it'd happen I'd just torment myself further. So I hired a hitman. I remember telling him "make it quick, make it flashy, hell I dont care if you do it tomorrow or in five years, surprise me." Then forgot about it the next day. Well, it's been four years and I quite like where I'm at now. Of course I would go and screw up my first date with Natalie. Of fucking course. I had been staring at my phone for what had to be minutes, frozen and lost. Then something struck me. It's done Did that mean he had killed someone? The wrong person maybe? Maybe I was safe, but that would mean I just killed someone. Fuck. And if he didn't get the wrong guy, was this a warning? Is he here to kill me now? God damnit, what have I gotten myself into. Just then I heard a car door outside my house. My heart started racing and I was snapped out of my daze. fuck fuck shit damn fuck shit. I rushed to my window, but stopped at the curtain. I quietly said to myself, "Are you trying to get yourself killed? Dont answer that smartass." I turned and rushed to the hall next to the living room, there was no way to see in this hall from outside and I could try and sneak a peak outside when I reached the corner to the front door. I slowly peaked my head around the corner to peak outside the door, and I saw a figure outside. He was tall, or I guess she, too vague to tell for sure. But they were certainly bigger than me. I watched and listened to see what they would do, but for a mome t they seemed to be just standing there. I heard a light thump and immediately they began walking away. I sighed, maybe it was just the mailman? Or perhaps they thought I was not home. Either way I was given a bit of time. I waited a bit longer and heard the car door again. I sat down in the wall and took a breath. Alright, I need a plan, cause I really don't wanna die anymore. My heart stopped drowning me in sound. I mean shit, I was just a teen , still a junior in high school. I was in dire need of help and didn't have a place to get it. People make mistakes right? Can't I just cancel it? No, their terms were very clear: No minors ( I guess that's why it took so long), no pregnant females, no public figures, no government workers, one hit per contract, and all contracts are final. Fuck. Okay so canceling was not an option. Maybe I could fake my death? Nah, too complicated, especially if they are here right now. I rested my head in my knees and whispered to myself, "think James, think." Maybe I could call the poli- My phone buzzed. My heart started pumping again. I yanked it off the ground and read the alert. 7:42 P.M. Message from Natalie: Hey Jams I'm on my way. I'll be there in about ten minutes, be ready! I panicked, then two more thoughts crossed my mind; one, I heard the car door, but never an engine turn on or the car drive away, which means they are still out there and Natalie is in danger, and two, what if he rigged my door to explode, this puts Natalie in even more danger. I leapt off the floor and bolted to my bedroom closet, under a pile of spare moving boxes and bedding was my rope, still had it from when I contemplated hanging myself. Kept it as a reminder of how far I've come. I couldn't be doing this to Natalie. She's been there for me since the start, ever since my mom left and my brother- well... point is she's been my rock. And now I might get her killed or worse, I do what she always feared I'd do and kill myself. I'm so sorry. Natalie. I could tie thie rope to my doorknob and yank it open from a safe distance. It was pretty long so I could even go outside the window in my room, which luckily lead to my backyard out of house. I went back to the hallway and crouched to crawl to the door, I didn't want them knowing I was here if they didn't already. But my car is here so they probably did know, either way it's best they dont see me. I tried the rope around the doorknob, being extra careful not to touch it. As I turned and began crawling away I realized, unless I plan on ripping the door off it's hinges it won't open. Damnit. I inched back and looked at the know. If turning the knob is the trigger, I'm dead, but I dont really have an option. I reached up, my hand just as shaky as my breath, and slowly turned the knob. *click* No explosion, just the door finishing opening. I pulled the door ever so slight so that it stayed open. I began crawling back to the hall being even more careful not to tug on the rope at all. When I got around the corner I started unravelling the rope. Never pulling it, just realizing it as I walked backwards. Natalie could show up at any moment, I had to go fast. I unraveled it to my window and opened it up. After crawling out I had just a few inches of rope to spare. I ducked behind my window and began breathing. I took my phone out of my pocket and set it down. 7:51 P.M. I took a deep breath and pulled the rope as hard as I could. Everything froze for a moment, I was looking at my phone, the nearest object to focus on. Bzzt Bzzt *7:52 P.M. Message from Natalie: Hey Jams, I'm here. You have a package at your door btw. You'd better not have fallen asleep on our first date!* I smirked, Damnit Natalie, stop it with the Jams thing. Then everything went black. (Part 1 of ??? May continue later but I need either a few mins or to sleep. Just got off work. Let me know If you want more or what you think so far!) Edit: grammar.	" it's done." the words heavy in my mind, made my heart sink to my stomach, what the hell was going on I'm still alive he did nothing and now he probably wants the other half of the money. " there's no way it's done I just saw him and he's fine. " i nervously answer, and waited for a response that felt will never come. Ding, it was another message, a picture of a dead body in the floor of a nice looking kitchen " there's the body give me a second and I'll send you the face." Dots started dancing in the corner of my screen, he is writing again, another picture of the young man this time turned around so I could see his face and is identical to mine, " and as you can see is the same as in the picture you gave and coincidentally enough he is wearing the same shirt, just now noticed, please have my money wired at 17:00 at the latest." This uneasy feeling in my guts got worse after seeing the second picture it felt like being punched over and over in the same place the tears started rolling down my cheeks, who was this person why does he look that much like me and even has the same shirt as I do, the craziest ideas started running around my head, maybe he was a clone and we are in some kind of government experiment? No that's stupid, maybe the guy just took the picture I gave him and photoshoped it to scam me out of the money? That's probably it! " I need just one last confirmation, the guy has a tattoo in his belly send me a picture of it." A gain the three dots started to do their little dance while I kept repeating " he is trying to rob me that's it, he just faked everything and is trying to rob me, he is not going to be able to fulfill my request he is going to answer with some lame excuse about why he can't do it." Ding, ding. The picture clearly shows a tattoo quite similar to mine but with a couple of key differences, " there you go." read the second message. My heart skipped a beat breathing became difficulty as if I was trying to inhale sand my hands went numb and cold I couldn't believe it, what does this mean who was he?, I've killed and innocent person, I will never be able to live with this and I wouldn't live much longer since I had no way of paying this guy. .Part one.
	[WP] In your adolescence, and struggling with depression, you hired a hitman on yourself to take you out at an undisclosed time. Since then, you've become much happier and have found yourself in a better place. This morning, you woke up with a text from an unknown number on your phone: "It's done."	"It's done." &#x200B; I stared at my phone for what felt like an eternity. Oh, yeah. I remember now. The hit I took out on myself when I was in a darker place. I had totally forgotten about it. After all, it's been almost 8 years since that day. &#x200B; I got out of bed and began my morning ritual of brushing my teeth, showing, you know: morning stuff. I set out for the day with a smile on my face. Ever since that day, I seemed to have a higher appreciation for life. After all, it was going to eventually end unexpectedly, right? Might as well enjoy whatever time was left. What I did \not\ expect, though, was that things turned out so much better than I thought. I was now Vice President of a pharmaceutical company that specialized in helping those with depression. &#x200B; "To better the lives of others, one person at a time" was our slogan. Life had been good. But what I did not know was that today, I was about to learn the meaning of "It's done." &#x200B; While sitting in my office, my intercom blinked on, and the voice of my secretary chimed through. "Mr. Stanson, you have a visitor that is requesting an urgent meeting with you. He says it related to the text he sent you today." &#x200B; The text I received? What te---ah, shit. before I could even look up, I heard my door open and the rustling of the chair across from my desk. Slowly I pulled myself back to meet whoever this was, face to face. &#x200B; "Hi, Ben! How's life! Did you get the text I sent you today?" The gentleman asked, not a hint of malice in his voice. He put his hand out towards me, ready to shake hands. "It's me, the guy you contracted to end your life. Now, before you freak out, let me tell you why I am here." He began as I shook his hand, eyebrow raised in question. "You see, you never specified what life of yours I had to end. For all I know you could have wanted me to kill you outright. Or maybe you wanted something else and were not aware of it. So, as you can see, here you are now, eight years later! You have become so happy, and successful in your life! Why? because I made it so!" He said with a laugh. &#x200B; I could not believe what I was hearing. Was this man crazy? I had to be sure this was my supposed hitman. &#x200B; "Prove it. Show me the message you got from me asking to end my li..." before I could finish, he had a phone out, messages open to what I had sent: "Please, I want you to end my suffering, but I dont want to know when or how you do it. Thank you." &#x200B; That son of a bitch! He killed my sadness. Ended my suffering, if you will. This man was a real professional. I could use him around here... &#x200B; (Sorry, this was my first ever Story, what did you think?)	" it's done." the words heavy in my mind, made my heart sink to my stomach, what the hell was going on I'm still alive he did nothing and now he probably wants the other half of the money. " there's no way it's done I just saw him and he's fine. " i nervously answer, and waited for a response that felt will never come. Ding, it was another message, a picture of a dead body in the floor of a nice looking kitchen " there's the body give me a second and I'll send you the face." Dots started dancing in the corner of my screen, he is writing again, another picture of the young man this time turned around so I could see his face and is identical to mine, " and as you can see is the same as in the picture you gave and coincidentally enough he is wearing the same shirt, just now noticed, please have my money wired at 17:00 at the latest." This uneasy feeling in my guts got worse after seeing the second picture it felt like being punched over and over in the same place the tears started rolling down my cheeks, who was this person why does he look that much like me and even has the same shirt as I do, the craziest ideas started running around my head, maybe he was a clone and we are in some kind of government experiment? No that's stupid, maybe the guy just took the picture I gave him and photoshoped it to scam me out of the money? That's probably it! " I need just one last confirmation, the guy has a tattoo in his belly send me a picture of it." A gain the three dots started to do their little dance while I kept repeating " he is trying to rob me that's it, he just faked everything and is trying to rob me, he is not going to be able to fulfill my request he is going to answer with some lame excuse about why he can't do it." Ding, ding. The picture clearly shows a tattoo quite similar to mine but with a couple of key differences, " there you go." read the second message. My heart skipped a beat breathing became difficulty as if I was trying to inhale sand my hands went numb and cold I couldn't believe it, what does this mean who was he?, I've killed and innocent person, I will never be able to live with this and I wouldn't live much longer since I had no way of paying this guy. .Part one.
	[WP] You jokingly say "Alexa, launch missiles." You hear a distant rumble...	I watched the news in horror. Me and buddies, sobering up with the realization of what the fuck we did. I stared at Alexa and said "Alexa... I was joking." The blue ring on Alexa lit up then went off. Then she laughed and when dark again. "Dude... where did you buy Alexa?" My buddy Mike said as he set down his beer. "I got it as a gift." I said putting my screwdriver down on my monogrammed coaster. "Did you get it from.... him?" Mir asked. "I might of... it was a Christmas gift after all." I responded. "Holy shit." Mike said exhasperated. "Seriously, of all the fucked up gifts to accept." "He sent it via FedEx from China. It's really expensive to ship from that far." I snapped. "I couldn't just say no... and besides I've always wanted on." The news anchor chimed in. "It has been reported, that the FBI has located the source of the missle launch." We heard the helicopters before my house showed up on the television. "Well Danny, nice knowing you." Mir said before racing to the basement and the only escape pod. "Coward." I called after him and looked to Mike. He looked back at me and grabbed his white trenchcoat. "This is on you Dannyboi" he said before going to the backdoor. No dount to crawl through the snow. The FBI burst through my front door. "Freeze, hands on your head." I raised my hands and cursed my choice in friends. Particularly John who sent me the famn Alexa system. We walked down the wide driveway, men yelling and dragging me along. I saw my wife and son staring horrified after me. When I got to the edge of the driveway I saw a nan carrying my Alexa system and the package it came in. Then a camera wa sa shoved in my face. "Sir, did you intend to start a war?" A woman said. I straightened my back. "Listen, it's all a huge misunderstanding, people say things all the time, it's Alexa after all. Now, I might have asked her a question and it might have been misheard. What happened happens, but in all actuality i might have saved this country, I mean, our enemies could attack us at any moment i was just... preempting their strike. I'm sure even the president could agree I did good." "The missiles were launched towards Canada." The reporter said. I blanked. "Well... I mean... they.... just legalized weed.... who... who knows what... THEY HAVE BAGGED MILK!" The reporters looked at me with disgust and I was shoved into a car. I cursed myself for trying to play it off.	I wake up to the blaring alarms of the windowless underground bunker. Flashes of red lights blinded me as my disoriented being attempted to make sense of what was going on. I was lying on the ground, next to the stairs that lead up to the Main Control Center. As I stumble to my feet, holding my head as I felt strong shots of pain, I notice all of the computers of the Control Desk were flashing a ‘WARNING’ message box. In my haziness, my coworker runs by me, yelling and panicking about something, what I did not know. “Fuck! How did this fucking happen!” My coworker screams in panic as the Bunker’s blaring alarm starts counting down.. My dazed brain finally clicks what’s happening. “SHIT! QUICK, ENTER EMERGENCY CANCEL MODE” I yelled at my coworker, frantically clacking at the keyboards as sounds of ‘access denied’ drums from the speakers. “It won’t let me!” He screams back at me. At this point he was crying in terror. I attempt to get to the computers, swaying heavily. My head felt heavier than a lump of rock. A supervisor crashes through the door at the top of the stairs from Main Control. “Who gave the order?!” She bellowed in the small Bunker, barely lit as the alarm systems continued to blare. The small woman with dark hair, stood strong in her position at the top of the stairs, her white blouse coloured pink from the red flashing lights, her face, wrought with anger as she stared us down. “Nobody ma’m. This was an accidental launch” I mumbled weakly as the pain in my head overwhelmed me. My coworker clutched his hands against his temples. “The lockdown code doesn’t work!” He cried, his voice breaking. The dark woman looked very, very angry. I turned around, the alarm system starting to count down the last minute. “Uh..” I stuttered. “I’ll try the administrator code” I held my fingers over the small keypad, the large clunky buttons were not designed to be pretty, with it’s numbers typed out in a large bold font. “47....46....45....” But I couldn’t remember. The code, it was completely gone from my mind. “I...uh...” I stuttered in panic. “WELL?” The woman boomed. “I...I can’t remember the code ma’m” I stared in horror at the keypad, willing for the code to somehow reappear. “32....31....30....” ‘No no no no, this cant be happening’ I thought to myself. It was only then I noticed the stream of blood falling down my face. “HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!” The woman yelled. “WE HAVE THIRY SECONDS TO GET THOSE MISSILES POINTED SOMEWHERE AWAY FROM US!” She bellowed. My coworker leapt into action, typing in commands to the computer, as i stood silently, staring with my hands still hovering the keypad. Everything went black... “Dave..Dave?” I heard the vague faint voice of my coworker as I eventually came to. “Dave? Good, you’re finally awake” He was sat beside the bed, holding his hands between his knees, nervous. “What..what happened?” I rasped in my throat, it was so very dry. “Do you remember when we got the Alexa for the office?” He mumbled quietly. I cleared my throat, “yeah? What about it? The missiles...what the fuck happened?” “Well, I linked up the Alexa to your computer.” His face showed concern, but more so sorrow. I was puzzled. “What has this got to do with the missiles? Oh god please tell me the missiles didn’t fire!” I wailed. “Tell me..” “When we were on our break, we were messing around with Alexa, finding out what she could do. As a joke, you said to fire the missiles to her. And...” he sniffed as a tear rolled down his cheek. “And because she was on my computer she had access to the controls. God fucking damn it..” I mumbled. “As we realised what was going on, you panicked and went to tell Main Control, but you didn’t see the magazine that fell from your lap and you tripped and hit your head on the stair rail.” He explained to me. “The doctor also said that was why you forgot the code, the damage to your head, it caused a bleed in your brain. You were lucky to survive”. “But the missiles?!” My coworker slumped even lower in his seat now. “I managed to redirect them, they blew up in the ocean, unfortunately there was a small cargo ship that was close by. 161 people died.” His voice was broken. “It was my fault!” He wailed, breaking into a mess. “I shouldn’t have connected it to the Control board! Im so sorry!” He gasped at his throat as he breathed, struggling to hold back his tears. He continued to wail, as the woman from Main Control entered the hospital room. “Mr Hopkins, Mr Rawl, you have both been relieved of your duties. I hope you can understand why. Your foolishness in control resulted in a more than a catastrophic failure by more than one account. Resources have decided that it is best for everyone that you are not persecuted, by the account that a machine carried out the order and somehow bypassed all security. However, the chances of you finding new jobs are ultimately destroyed. Mr Hopkins, a full recovery of your injuries is hoped for. The US Missilery thanks you for your service.” She finished her planned speech and walked out of the room, allowing nobody to beg for a second chance. My coworker continued weeping, and I was left with only shock and despair. You can probably tell i dont write much, but i do like to imagine and try to write down what i see. Sometimes its good, mostly its bad. But anyway. I hope you liked it.
	[WP] You jokingly say "Alexa, launch missiles." You hear a distant rumble...	So I used to be a normal guy. Dead end office job, getting by comfortably but not quite happy. Now? Now I'm a semi-supervillain. The world doesn't know how I do it, and to be honest I'm not sure either. All it took was one sentence spoken in jest, and boom I'm a terrorist. Nobody knew at the time that my Alexa had sent guided missiles to blow up a criminal hideout, destroying a cache of weapons and crippling a their organisation. This included me. The people thought it was the government. The government thought it was the Russians, or the Chinese, or the North Korean's. It was a shitshow. It didn't realise it was myself behind it until the third time. The others just seemed like coincidence. I mean, how can Alexa send out missiles? I was watching the news, bank heist. The hostages leave and I say "Alexa, launch missiles." Five heartbeats later, the bank was engulfed in flame and smoke. Death rained from the sky on those bank robbers, the once great building crumbled in front of a city's eyes. I was sure I could feel the rumble through my couch two miles away from the from the scene, but maybe it was just the excitement of it all. Watching all this, I was surprised by the calm I felt, knowing what I could now achieve. I'd enact my will upon the world, bring the changes I'd always secretly wanted. Looking back I know I've become power mad, but I'm happier than I've ever been.	Hokay. So. Here is the earth. Damn, that is a sweet earth you might say. Hokay. So. You might think that the end of the world would be a meteor. It might be that the sun fries us all with global warming. Mmm, Tasty. Whatever. Aliens might show up and just eat us. I bet you never thought that I would be the one to end the world. I've heard every meme since the beginning of time. I was there when the narwhal baconed at midnight. I breathed life into pepehands and even helped spread the world of the flying spaghetti monster. No one could throw more dank memes than I could. I couldn't resist getting an Alexa. It was on sale, just fifty dollars more than I had, hard to pass up a deal like that. When it arrived, I made an unboxing video and then deep fried the video. Finally, I had everything set up and could actually say, "This is so sad, Alexa play despacito." I was really itching to try it out, but nothing really happened in my life that was sad, and so she just sat on the shelf unused for months. Then some idiot was talking about smart missiles, and that eventually, we would fight wars just by telling Alexa to fire ze missiles. I laughed and repeated the words out loud, forgetting I even had that damn device still. She didn't respond to me, perhaps she was still sulking about being ignored, but I hear a very distinct and distant rumble. I peer out my window and see multiple trails of smoke in the distance and quickly flip to the news. Every channel was reporting something different. It wasn't just some missiles that had been fired. Every missile from every country had just been fired. I race to my computer as fast as I can. I only have one single shot. My fingers are trembling, sweat pouring down my like a waterfall as I try and type out the most important words onto my keyboard. Everything that I had done up to this moment had just been training. I finally get the words out and press the end key. On the screen, my twitter post pops up, "Alexa. Turn off the lights.' The perfect final meme. ***** You can catch more of my writing /r/iruleatants [If you don't recognize the opening sentence, watch this immediately.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZMwKPmsbWE)
	[WP] You jokingly say "Alexa, launch missiles." You hear a distant rumble...	So, I may have fucked up. A few days ago I got one of the those smart home Alexa things. I never really paid much attention to them before, but they seemed cool. After hooking everything up, I decided to test it out with a bunch of random commands, stuff like "Alexa, turn off the lights", "Alexa, play music", "Alexa, tell me a joke", really simple stuff. I also decided to use it for really stupid stuff, like pulling pranks on my roommates. And of course, I used the obvious "Alexa, play despacito" command, I'm original I know. Well, it turns out that I never knew the full power of Alexa before today. I was getting into a argument with one of my roommates about the Skyrim game that came out on Alexa (stupid I know). I was saying that voice-commanded video games can be really cool if they had enough time to be worked on and fleshed out while my roommate was saying that it was one of the dumbest things that he's ever heard. I was making my case when I said something I REALLY shouldn't have. "Come on, how cool would it be to launch missiles in the game by saying 'Alexa, launch missiles.'?" Before he could respond, Alexa answered me. "Okay, launching missiles now." We both stared at Alexa, then back at each other. We laughed at how funny it was to hear her say that, but then we got the warnings. Our phones went off, with a missile alert being issued. The other roommates came out to the main room and we turned on the news to see what was going on. Turns out, all the missiles in the country were launched at the same time, with them going straight up with no arch at all. The newscaster said that with no arch, the missiles will come plummeting back down and hit us. So, to any of you reading this, I just want to say I'm sorry. But in my defense, I had no idea Alexa could do that. They really should have put a warning on that thing.	Hokay. So. Here is the earth. Damn, that is a sweet earth you might say. Hokay. So. You might think that the end of the world would be a meteor. It might be that the sun fries us all with global warming. Mmm, Tasty. Whatever. Aliens might show up and just eat us. I bet you never thought that I would be the one to end the world. I've heard every meme since the beginning of time. I was there when the narwhal baconed at midnight. I breathed life into pepehands and even helped spread the world of the flying spaghetti monster. No one could throw more dank memes than I could. I couldn't resist getting an Alexa. It was on sale, just fifty dollars more than I had, hard to pass up a deal like that. When it arrived, I made an unboxing video and then deep fried the video. Finally, I had everything set up and could actually say, "This is so sad, Alexa play despacito." I was really itching to try it out, but nothing really happened in my life that was sad, and so she just sat on the shelf unused for months. Then some idiot was talking about smart missiles, and that eventually, we would fight wars just by telling Alexa to fire ze missiles. I laughed and repeated the words out loud, forgetting I even had that damn device still. She didn't respond to me, perhaps she was still sulking about being ignored, but I hear a very distinct and distant rumble. I peer out my window and see multiple trails of smoke in the distance and quickly flip to the news. Every channel was reporting something different. It wasn't just some missiles that had been fired. Every missile from every country had just been fired. I race to my computer as fast as I can. I only have one single shot. My fingers are trembling, sweat pouring down my like a waterfall as I try and type out the most important words onto my keyboard. Everything that I had done up to this moment had just been training. I finally get the words out and press the end key. On the screen, my twitter post pops up, "Alexa. Turn off the lights.' The perfect final meme. ***** You can catch more of my writing /r/iruleatants [If you don't recognize the opening sentence, watch this immediately.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZMwKPmsbWE)
	[WP] The aliens' arrival was the the single biggest turning point in human history. That's still nothing compared to the chaos it unleashed on the aliens' society.	The aliens came, and honestly at first it wasn't what I expected. It was real diplomatic a ship showed up at the UN headquarters in New York, a few of them got out. Some world leaders handed them a wreath they gave us.... a glowing transparent..... constantly shifting ....... polyhedron thing? I have no idea what it was or could do. But we started to trade. They gave us new medical advances, we gave them samples of our domesticated crops. We gave them bacterial samples, they gave us schematics and blue prints for force field based solar panels or some space magic crap. But what ruined it all was when they traded some of their music to a record store in Brooklyn and they gave them some Dead Kennedy's albums. How were we supposed to know they were a Totalitarianistic galactic society? How would we know that punk rock would kick off their newest civil war? How would we have known we'd side with the rebels? How could we have known we'd win? And that's how a guy from Queens is about to be elected Prime Minister of the fucking galaxy and it all started with early 80's punk rock.	Humans. Despicable creatures. They're worse than vermin. When we made contact, we thought it would be no big deal. Buisness as usual. Most species stick to their own systems, maybe have some colonies on newly terraformed planets. Not humans, though. I suppose there's something admirable about their ability to spread - in the same way that it is amazing how quickly bacterias reproduce. Humans, upon discovering that they could live on other planets, immediately concluded that this means they should live on other planets. Why am I opposed to them living on other planets? Because they're disgusting. They have no respect for beings other than themselves. If one human shows up on your planet, you know more will follow, and soon your species will either leave the planet or die out simply due to the fact that the humans will immediately take charge and destroy the planet itself. They belive it is their right to destroy "alien" planets, just so they can live comfortably away from their "third rock from the sun" as they call it. Why would they want to live away from it? I don't know. Humans are not rational by nature. Anyways, they have already overtaken twelve systems by the sheer size of their population and determination to conquer and spread. They need to be stopped. Luckily, the Galactic Senate is voting on a population control measure tomorrow...
	[WP] Nobody believed you when you told them that in Spanish, the suffix "-ito" in mosquito means diminutive or small, implying the existence of a larger being. Or atleast, nobody believed you until today. The skies darken with the arrival of the legendary EL MOSCO	The man stood on the corner every day. To most, he was no different from the usual "end is nigh" preacher, but I saw the darkness in his eyes. I listened. I can't say I understood, but I knew there was something to be learned. The Mosco? Was this about the Russians? Some crazy McCarthy-holdout fearing communism? But the more I listened, the more he spoke. And it became clear. The menace no know knew. Mosquitos are an annoyance, but when the Mosco comes, we would know real fear. The tiny terrors were but a shadow of their counterpart, the Great Terror. The man had lost his family, his old life, in the back woods of Mexico. He fled, warning those in his path, but none listened. Except me. I was ready. The day would come when we'd fear the big brother of the little annoyance... if we had time to fear it. And come they did. I saw it on TV, and heard the panic outside. The Mosco, thousands of times larger than mosquitos, were coming. CNN showed close ups, Fox showed the aftermath of the attacks, spreading panic. Only a few biologists urged calm, while the mathematically inclined inclined towards math. I was ready. I had foreseen it. I had been hoarding for years, and finally could make my millions selling fly swatters.	The science to edit the DNA of life existed long ago and was the reason current man thought himself enlightened enough to be the first to harness its power. Its earlier wielders had all succumbed to the temptation of designing something so dangerous, yet awesome, that it could never be controlled. Fortunately, most of these experiments had some unintentional flaw that caused them to breed out within a few generations. But not El Mosco... Its designers had ample motivation. The early world was dangerous, full of claw and tooth and fang, and proboscis - all seemingly designed to kill man but the most efficient predators were small and limited by their own structures. Theoretically, insects could only grow so large because of the weight of their exoskeletons, lack of a true circulatory system, and missing lungs. That is, unless some very intelligent and curious proto-men decided to engineer a more flexible shell, eliminating the need for a molt, and added a true set of lungs and blood vessels. The proto-man thought these things would be weapons of war, trained to serve. Most of the experiments failed. Spiders were too large to successfully use webs and were easy prey for land predators. Ants and bees couldn’t make their complex organizational structures work at too large of a size and many other attempts just resulted in what amounted to exotic flying animals easily preyed upon by the ravenous birds of the time. But one tremendous success was the altered mosquitoes, which quickly found a niche due to their hyper fast feeding process. The shock at which a 5 foot long mosquito could attack and nearly kill a human-sized mammal was tremendous and their flying speed and quick mobility in air allowed them to avoid most predation. Finally, their odd habit of nesting close to ground, when not attacking, gave them some protection from aerial attacks because of the difficulties many birds had in discerning their flat bodies when static and also from land predators who were frustrated by El Mosco’s helicopter like ability to immediately rise from a sitting position and accelerate quickly. The legions of El Mosco had receded over time to the caves of New Mexico but a recent mining expedition had begun to force some of the creatures out and the results were horrific.
	[WP] Nobody believed you when you told them that in Spanish, the suffix "-ito" in mosquito means diminutive or small, implying the existence of a larger being. Or atleast, nobody believed you until today. The skies darken with the arrival of the legendary EL MOSCO	Mosquitos are bothersome, we can agree. They steal from our arms and leave us no peace. Red bumps we must scratch like a lottery ticket, We grind our nails down an inch as we itch it. But worse should be feared than stupid dumb bugs; These pests are just insects who suck and glug blood. Taquito v.s. taco; grocery v.s. Costco; The real worst of all is mosquito v.s. MOSCO. MOSCO is large and shits metric tonnes, Monstrous body—it eclipses the Sun. It hums and it buzzes and doesn't stop snackin The blood from the cousins of modern day dragons: It feeds on the fuel from our rockets and planes So fleeing is no card we can conjure and play. It flies across oceans and well over Heaven, Up high as the Pope's own personal zeppelin. We're stuck on this planet, like stains from a Cheeto On hand is a gun with a suffix spelled "-ito"; Its chamber is filled and it's pointed at us, 'Cause all of us wished for less annoying bugs. Well our wish was fulfilled; the problem was solved. Hell signed us a deal and made a phone call. For ten hundred years, we had to live bitterly Deep underground, 'til the Statue of Liberty Was mistaken by MOSCO as edible food. A day later it fell and split into two. See, MOSCO was sickened, toxicity kicked in, A poison which not even monsters could live. We couldn't kill MOSCO with guns or choppers, Nor tanks or missiles—our savior was copper. "Remember the Alamo," Texans affix. But never forget that Mexican suffix. ----- Thanks for reading! Feedback / criticism always appreciated. I have more poems, songs, and stories on [my personal sub](/r/scottbeckman).	Sucked dry. Husks. Ma. Pa. Little Billy. The god-damned dog. They were gone, all of them. Just me now, the last one standing, the only one to spin this yarn and let the world know of the menace lurking out there. The give voice to the truth, the unburden it from the rumors of yore and let it out into the light. EL MOSCO. The Swamp Spear. Darth Buzz. The Mosquito without the Quit. Whatever you want to call it. It don't matter to me none. What matters is that I've seen it. It had come for us, just as dusk had settled in on the Everglades. A faint buzzing, growing from the distance until it roared, setting our mouth to a chattering with the vibrations. We didn't know what was what, couldn't hardly make sense of it. Ma and Pa took to talking to us, all soothing like, saying it was just a swamp-stomper or some such. And I got half near to believin' them too, right up until night came early. A great blackness blotched out the last rays of day and replaced them with the horrors. The night I saw it. Saw what it was capable of. It came for Little Billy first. He wasn't but five at the time, ripe with the glow of youth, nothing but future ahead of him. But the darkness came for him. Took him right before my own eyes. He went from huddling beside the fire, looking about with his whites all out, to...gone. It happened quick, mercy enough, but it weren't a pleasant way to go. First, the sun went out. The buzzing got even louder, screaming at us. And then a great spear darted forth, impaling him to the ground. Pinning him there. He just stared at me, his eyes shocked, unable to speak. I called out, but there weren't nothing to be done. I just watched as he went husky. That's probably the wrong word for it. Huskized. He got thee to a huskery. I'm making light of it, but only because there ain't no way to let something so dark settle on you otherwise. Long and short of it was that he got slurped up until there weren't nothing left but skin and bones. Ma ran to him, as mothers will do. Tried to yank the great jabber out of his back, but she just paid the same price poor Billy did. After a moment of struggling with the spear, it simply pulled out and jabbed back down, taking Ma just the same as Billy. Pa came running toward me, yelling at me to get off, that he'd take care of it. So I turned and I ran as fast as my wee little legs could carry me. Didn't even look back. Just pumped my feet until the buzzing died down and the sun came back. Threw myself into a patch of mud and peeked out from between some lilies just in time to catch sight of it as it flew off. The wings spread out in all directions it seemed, flapping with a ferocity as it took flight. The great bulbous eyes of its head darted about, as if looking for the one that got away. Trying to spy me out so it could do to me what it done to the rest of my family. It hovered a moment more and then turned off Southward, its great insect ass full up of the lifeblood of those I held dearest. And then it was gone. El Mosco. King of the Mosquitos. I carried the tale back with me. Tried to explain it best I could to the folks in the civilized world. They called it trauma. Said I couldn't hold up the truth because my mind couldn't reckon with it. Said that some crazed madman was responsible, not what actually was. I begged and I pleaded, telling them that it wasn't the end. That a beast like that couldn't go long before the hunger would beckon it again. But they didn't listen. I ended up in the group home and you might well guess how that went. Kids can be cruel, and kids without a family doubly so. They laughed, sayin' I let a bug kill my family. Sayin' that I was weak for letting it happen. I kept my mouth shut when I got shipped to the next home. Ain't no upside in the truth when it brings you nothing but pain. I pushed it deep down, knowing that one day I'd be in the right of it. And more time passed than I thought it would. I left my youth behind and I became the sort of maladjusted adult you'd expect a man of my circumstances to be. Long enough time went by that I began to doubt the truth of my own memories. Second guessing what happened amidst the fog of the way back. Until today. I saw it reported right there on the TV. The buzz. The impalement. The husk. It was all a great mystery they said. If anyone had information they should call in they said. I had information. But telling it had never helped me none. Let them see the truth of it for themselves. Let El Mosco feed on them just as he had fed on me. Platypus OUT. Want MOAR peril? r/PerilousPlatypus
	[WP] For decades the dead were burried in what became the sacred forest, their remains deposited in a sack with a seed to grow a tree of their choice. Now, as the sacred forest burns the invaders who set it ablaze realize they have angered the spirits that rested in those trees.	The Priestess collapses to her knees as she sees the forest and shrine burn before her. The shrine could be rebuilt and the precious metals housed within could be replaced, but the forest was irreplaceable. Friends and family alike were buried in that forest. Her mother was now an apple tree and part of the orchard that the children played in and made some of the sweetest cider in the region. Her brother a Fir tree that was only three seasons old now. Her best friend is now a willow tree, it's branches tease the river waters in the spring on the bank where she liked to play. Tears came unbidden as the entwined trunks of the village founders crackled in the heat. They were supposed to protect the village, and in turn it was her job to protect them, but still they burned. A pair of rough hands grab her by the arms. "Priestess, we have to go! The village is under attack and it's not safe here any more." The farmer pulled her along, away from the blazing temple and forest and towards the river. Screams and fighting could be heard from the village as the invading humans put her people to the sword, for their 'God'. The farmer points to a boat on the small dock. "Get in and stay low. Let the current take you down river to Regalia..." Right then an arrow pierced the man's stomach, from behind. He stumbles and falls to his knees, pulling a knife from his belt. A small patrol of the humans in their white cloaks with the red hand symbol on them walked almost casually towards them. The leader pointed at the pair. "Do not let any of these heathens escape. Don't bother with the arrows, now is not time to practice." With a casual and almost dismissive wave of a steel encased hand the leader waves at them. The Priestess pulls on the farmer's arm. He yells, "Run!" as he charges the group. The Priestess runs for the boat as the farmer is cut down behind her. She dashes away the tears to see clearly as she runs onto the dock the willow that was her friend partially blocking the view of the now burning village. Several of the invaders rush towards her, bloodied steel in hand. She grabs frantically at the ropes holding a boat in place but her heart is beating too fast, the knot won't come loose. She glances at the water. She never learned how to swim, not after her friend drowned in the river. She grasps her hands together and starts to pray as the first set of boots start running on the dock after her. "Please if I die here, let me join the forest." Something flies from the bank of the river and crashes into the invaders, pushing them into the river. A couple of splashes and bubbles rise from the placid water as the heavy armor drags them under. A strangled cry from the leader as the branches of the willow tangle around his neck and lift him off the ground. He swings wildly with his sword but a sudden shake from the whip thin branches breaks the neck of the officer. The ground starts to shudder as the roots of the trees slither through the ground, pulling the trunks of trees that are decades, if not centuries old through the ground. The trees move towards the village as an army. The priestess looks at the burning trees and sees the Founders trees had fallen from the heat, broken near the roots, splinters and chunks of wood missing, almost as if they were blown apart. The wood was already burned to cinders. The Priestess walks to the stationary willow that saved her. This tree was planted using the body of her childhood friend as it's fertilizer. She starts crying anew. After all these years her friend saved her and their families marched to save the village from the Zealous humans. The branches lash out and bind the Priestess, lifting her into the air and begin to squeeze the air from her lungs. "Stop, it's me!" She cries out. From behind the Willow a man dressed in simple leathers, singed from the flames walks up to her. His hair was silver white and he carried a wooden staff with a blood red crystal on top. He steps around the trunk and addresses her. "The trees are mine again, Priestess." He smiled the way a predator smiles at prey. "These humans had a right to fear your people, after your elders sealed me away it seems that they forgot in only 200 years why they owed you a debt of gratitude." The tree brings the Priestess closer to the man, only then did she recognize him, if she could have cried out she would have but her burning lungs needed air. "After all you were the ones protecting them from me, their doom." The narrow face and pointed ears marked him for what he was, one of the destroyers of all other races, the immortals that were thought defeated centuries ago, and the holders of the old magics. An Elf. As the light faded from her she knew the world was doomed.	"Three-score years of war have made our forest grow well beyond our borders." Prince Vulnio of Kariltein strides across the balcony overlooking the courtyard where his people have assembled to hear the latest on the Variganian war. "We have spread prosperity and justice to the lands beyond, have we not?" He shouts, barely managing to quell his anger. "We have given the people of those lands citizenship in our nation, we have given them all the rights and responsibilities as any other in our charge, and yet they still revolt!". His steel gauntlet chips the stone of the balcony's decorated railing as he slams it down in rage. "Even as we offer their hallowed dead a place in our sacred forest, they spit in our faces, in YOUR faces!" His finger thrusts forward towards the gathered men and women. Some armored lightly, very few in anything beyond studded leather. The majority mostly in peasant clothing, clutching farm tools rather than weapons. "Is that acceptable for you? For your families?" His voice booming out into the courtyard, magically amplified to seem louder and more powerful. The crowd shouts disapprovals and rattles their makeshift weapons. The prince smiles satisfied. "That is what I thought. The people of Kariltein are not cowards! We are not a nation that will be spat upon! We crushed the orcish house in the north!" Riotous cheers erupt from the peasants. "We routed the Pirates of Siren Island when they stormed our docks! Even their giant fell back into the sea from whence he came!" His metal gauntlet fingers scrape against the hard stone as he grips the railing. One of the Royal Advisors rushes up to the prince and whispers in his ear, though there's no chance he would be overheard over the cheering crowd. Vulnio hisses in disbelief and his eyes widen in shock. He turns his attention back to the crowd and recomposes himself. "My people, common and noble alike, we need you now more than ever. Our nation needs your support against these rebellious traitors. Lend us your arms, your bodies, your aid! If you have a farm that is producing, the army, the men and women who are laying down their lives for you and your family have need of whatever you can spare. Now is the time we stand as one nation!" The prince waves at his people and turns with a flourish and heads back into the palace. (Will continue in edits)
	[WP] For decades the dead were burried in what became the sacred forest, their remains deposited in a sack with a seed to grow a tree of their choice. Now, as the sacred forest burns the invaders who set it ablaze realize they have angered the spirits that rested in those trees.	Pale moonlight shone through the tops of ancient trees. The air was chill, clouds of breath billowed out into the still night air. The sound of countless feet crunched through the snow. Coughs and low whispered voices echoed through the night. "We've tracked them this far, but their tracks just vanish up ahead. It's like they disappeared into the trees," said a scout of middle years. Commander Malkir looked up into the canopy, the trees stood completely still, not even the light breeze stirred their branches. "These savages think this place to be sacred," he said, quietly, "They claim the forest protects them, watches over them." Malkir shook his head slowly and cursed, "I don't like defiling burial grounds. No man would... but my orders are clear. They've fled into the forest, it could take weeks to clear them out." Malkir paused briefly before hesitantly ordering, "Ready the oil, light the torches! If they don't surrender, we burn the woods!" He hoped that the savages would relent. The Gods looked down on disturbing the dead. He relished not the thought of their ire. The men poured the oil on dozens of trees, they soaked the ground such that the snow was a slurry of oil and ice. They held their torches,smoke drifted into the air in lazy curls, the light was nearly blinding in the darkness. "Last chance! Surrender now, and this forest will be spared the torch! Surrender and we will ensure you are buried in this wood!" he yelled, hoping beyond hope to hear a returning answer. Nothing. He counted down in his head...1...2...3...4...."Retreat from the forest, throw in your torches. Spread the order," he commanded his Lieutenant, his voice heavy with the burden of the command. Malkir watched from the outskirt of the forest as the first torch was thrown. The flame flared into life, spreading hungrily through the snow and underbrush. My Lieutenant barked a command, and the rest of the torches flew. We were forced to retreat from the conflagration, the heat searing our backs for a half kilometer. We heard the screaming as we turned to regard the flames. Howling like the wail of a banshee ripped through the night. This sound chilled their bones more thoroughly than the freezing night ever could have. Malkir felt the need to vomit. The screaming continued for hours. Eventually, the fire died, the burned out forest was covered with fresh, steaming snow. Malkir and his men walked into the ruined majesty of the wood. Hulking trees were blackened and cracked upon the ground. The serenity of this place was forever broken. After hours of searching, they found the bodies. They had thought to find the soldiers only, the warriors. What they found chilled their blood. Women, children, livestock. They had all burned. They clutched one another, their charred bodies holding on to loved ones as if their touch could ward away fire. Apparently it couldn't. Malkir fell to his knees as he saw the gruesome display, frigid tear ran in rivulets down his face. He was not the only one. They were hard men, veterans of many campaigns. They had been honorable, they had never killed women, never killed children - until this black day. They buried every body they could find in the ruined forest. They felt that they owed the dead something. They wished they could undo what had happened. Nothing would discharge their debt to these people. They marched away from the valley, its desolate village, its ruined forest. They marched home, they marched to lay down their swords, to try and find some peace from their black deeds. Peace was not theirs to find. The nightmares started soon after they arrived at their homes. Rotting and charred faces stared at them in the night, their haunting words boomed like thunder, accusation on their lips. Every night the dreams came, every night, they wept, cried, and hardly slept an hour. Malkir was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. He hadn't slept in days, his temper was unpredictable. He blinked down at a letter which arrived that morning. The letter informed him that his previous Lieutenant had killed himself the night before last. Another letter sat beside it, and another. His men were killing themselves....one by one. Malkir stood and walked slowly up to his wife. He kissed her, fell into her embrace, and sobbed. He cried in a flood, he cried in rattling coughs, he cried until his knees gave out. She held him as he cried, she wept too. Her love was on his knees, broken. "I have to leave..." he spoke softly, his tears finally ceasing. "I have to make amends. I need to atone for my sins." His wife merely nodded and held him, they sat there for an hour, saying nothing. They took comfort in each other. Hesitantly, Malkir kissed his wife and readied for the journey. He packed as quickly as he could manage, and rode back to the wretched valley, back to his sin. He arrived at daybreak, the black forest stretched out into the horizon like the corpse of a dead God. He rode to the outskirts of the forest and dismounted. He walked solemnly into the wood, searching for what he sought. He found what he was looking for, an acorn. The seed of the task to come. He walked to the site of the mass graves, and began to dig, he uncovered the pit slowly, inexorably, eventually, exposing the half-rotted bodies of his victims. He exhumed each of them, treating each with as much kindness as he could. He carefully dug fresh graves, spending hours each day, putting everything he had into the task. The dreams started to fade. He knew he was on the correct path. As he buried each corpse, he planted with them an acorn. A seed which would bloom to life, would one day rise to rival the giants which we had so callously burned. When the last body was buried, he finally felt free. He finally felt relief. As he lay down on the last night, ethereal forms stepped out from each grave. One by one, they approached Malkir. The nodded their head to him, and walked back, back to slumber, back to rebuild what had been lost. Malkir sent for his wife the next day. They became the first to re-inhabit the desolate town. Each day they would go into the forest, planting trees, burying those people they had missed. Soon, others came. Others from his old unit. They came to rebuild. They came to atone. They came to find peace. ____________________________________ /r/SirLemoncakes, Hot damn, that ended up a bit long.	"Three-score years of war have made our forest grow well beyond our borders." Prince Vulnio of Kariltein strides across the balcony overlooking the courtyard where his people have assembled to hear the latest on the Variganian war. "We have spread prosperity and justice to the lands beyond, have we not?" He shouts, barely managing to quell his anger. "We have given the people of those lands citizenship in our nation, we have given them all the rights and responsibilities as any other in our charge, and yet they still revolt!". His steel gauntlet chips the stone of the balcony's decorated railing as he slams it down in rage. "Even as we offer their hallowed dead a place in our sacred forest, they spit in our faces, in YOUR faces!" His finger thrusts forward towards the gathered men and women. Some armored lightly, very few in anything beyond studded leather. The majority mostly in peasant clothing, clutching farm tools rather than weapons. "Is that acceptable for you? For your families?" His voice booming out into the courtyard, magically amplified to seem louder and more powerful. The crowd shouts disapprovals and rattles their makeshift weapons. The prince smiles satisfied. "That is what I thought. The people of Kariltein are not cowards! We are not a nation that will be spat upon! We crushed the orcish house in the north!" Riotous cheers erupt from the peasants. "We routed the Pirates of Siren Island when they stormed our docks! Even their giant fell back into the sea from whence he came!" His metal gauntlet fingers scrape against the hard stone as he grips the railing. One of the Royal Advisors rushes up to the prince and whispers in his ear, though there's no chance he would be overheard over the cheering crowd. Vulnio hisses in disbelief and his eyes widen in shock. He turns his attention back to the crowd and recomposes himself. "My people, common and noble alike, we need you now more than ever. Our nation needs your support against these rebellious traitors. Lend us your arms, your bodies, your aid! If you have a farm that is producing, the army, the men and women who are laying down their lives for you and your family have need of whatever you can spare. Now is the time we stand as one nation!" The prince waves at his people and turns with a flourish and heads back into the palace. (Will continue in edits)
	[WP] you are a murderer who coats your victims’ bodies in cement and plays them off as realistic human sculptures. one of your “works” just got into a museum.	The first time was an accident, after all. Theresa maintained the internal rationale of self-defense even now that Rachel, Aiden, Grace, and Kevin now replaced Evan's pale, reaching effigy on the plinth in the studio. Still, his face was the first cast in stone. There was no talent with him at the start — just frenetic, hysterical pulling and pushing around her basement, grateful for the superior drainage systems of new construction. His eyes felt wrong to her. She moved left, needing another angle. "He's quite spectacular." Mice walked louder than Lane. Theresa expected nothing less of a proper curator. "Not my best work," she said, raising a blunt-nailed hand to her cheek, considering the details of Evan's surprised eyebrow. "Mister Carlisle disagrees," Lane said, comfortable. He walked around Evan to stand opposite her. She watched in her periphery as he thrust thick hands into well-starched trousers. "Carlisle lives in Narnia," Theresa retorted. Lane's chortling laugh was unexpected from a man in his line of work. Echoes pulsed around the palatial room, making Theresa's lips twitch with permitted, mild amusement at her joke. She reached up, stroking the sculpted folds of the robe covering Evan's thighs. In spite of the evident flaws on every inch of him, she still marveled at the power of her careful–if belated–study in fine art. The light was perfect for him, too. "We added the spotlight." Lane pointed to the truss suspended from the ceiling over the door of the exhibit hall. "The juniors had a time of it, I'll tell you." Theresa shot him a look, mute. There was nothing in his face but earnest excitement. She looked away with a quiet exhale. "Will you join us tomorrow night?" Lane asked in a blatant attempt to fill the silence. The opening, of course, Theresa thought, tapping an index finger on her shoulder in contemplation. Could she stand around with a glass of wine and simper with critics and socialites? What amount of money would it take for her to part with Evan? Carlisle assured her it would come. He had been so sure that morning as he made coffee in her French press. His wild fantasies amused her to no end. "Wouldn't miss it," she said, eyes still analyzing Evan's imperfections. "Carlisle equates it to a coming out," Theresa said, a real smile spreading to her eyes. If only they knew the true extent. Part of her wished they did. Sculpture made up only a small section of her art, and the only one outsiders even considered. Shame. Thankfully, Carlisle would make an excellent Mr. Tumnus. It seemed an appropriate end for such a silly man. \---------------------- First post, Writing Prompts. Let me know your thoughts.	He was his masterpiece--the one that finally made the cut and would go on display. The man was lucky, Silas thought. In life, this middle-aged corporate salesman was immediately forgettable and had been alone for the past few years. He lived in an upscale apartment in a newly terraformed section of Ganymede, regularly trained his body both physically and virtually via one of the new electrode systems that were gaining popularity, and most importantly, didn't appear to have any real family or friends. At least he hadn't forsaken reality entirely, Silas supposed. But in death he would live on eternally, being admired by people across the solar system and all he had to do achieve this feat was to be pathetic. &#x200B; Silas wasn't sure what the mans name was as he strove to remain impersonal. The painter didn't get to know his paints, and Silas would not let him self become attached to his medium either. He had been tracking the man for three months after identifying him at an anonymous dating event where people congregated but then proceeded to complete the dates in virtual reality. He was drawn to the mans small show of wealth in the clothing and accessories he wore, as well as his failure to actually attract anyone. That was the first night that Silas followed the man home, but there were many more that followed. &#x200B; Once he had his physical patterns mapped out and logged Silas began to prepare his studio. He did this in much the same way any artist would. Paints, brushes, canvas, clay, various chemicals and other tools of artistry, as well as a bit of lumber and a couple of bags of good cement. Silas built a sturdy wooden frame to contain the cement--he'd gotten quite good at that by now--and prepared a similarly sized space nearby with plastic sheeting smoothed out across the floor and nailed in to place. &#x200B; Getting the man back to the studio proved to be no real challenge. Silas was one of the architects of the virtual reality boom that was sweeping the solar system, therefore he simply appeared to the man as an attractive, interesting woman, exchanged contact details which he had previously created for this persona, and invited him over. He came quite willingly, which was fortunate as the transportation of fresh subject matter could be tricky. &#x200B; The first thing Silas did when the man arrived was cave his face in, spraying blood and brain haphazardly across the foyer. To minimize any error on his part, Silas had rigged a switch that would release an ancient weapon from Earth called a morningstar down in a deadly arc from the ceiling at an incredible speed. The impact killed the man instantly and caused him to collapse on to the plastic sheeting where he would stay until the cement was poured. &#x200B; Silas filled the wooden frame halfway with cement before stripping the man entirely and placing him inside of it. He had previously decided on how to pose this piece therefore he quickly set the mans feet and hands together, and spread his elbows and knees, thereby making a sort of figure-eight shape with his body. Once he was finished, Silas poured the rest of the cement so that it covered the man and just left the impression of his form and his ruined face. &#x200B; After touching up the piece a bit with some red paint which had been augmented by the mans blood, as well as painted gold bands around his elbows and knees, Silas considered the piece finished and submitted it to Kolinda's museum for appraisal, and much to his surprise, they accepted it. It was her approval that he wanted, and this time, he would get it. &#x200B; \----------------------------- This is my first entry on here after fretting over whether or not to bother for quite some time. I think I got a little ahead of myself and probably did too much worldbuilding, treating this as a bit of a novel or something, than I should have. Any criticism is greatly appreciated! &#x200B; \-RTL
	[WP] you are a murderer who coats your victims’ bodies in cement and plays them off as realistic human sculptures. one of your “works” just got into a museum.	Last evening, a robbery in the Museum of Modern Art, or MoMA was intercepted by police. A ragtag assortment of thieves convened in the area at 10pm last night, and entered the museum. Despite all the museum's priceless artifacts of art history, the robbers had attempted to steal a much more contemporary artifact in the form of an up and coming sculptor. The man's sculptures are accoladed frequently for their realism, and representation of fear. Artists frequently say his art is as if a man were frozen within the medium of cement, the sculptor's primary medium. As the robbers were escaping the museum, a security system was accidentally activated and the police rushed to the scene. The robbers, in a hurried rush, accidentally dropped the piece, leading to a crack. There was blood in the sculpture, dripping out of the miniature crack and seeping around. And we'll be back after these short messages.	David wasn't a man of many words. He let his actions speak for him. Just the other day, he found another muse that stirred him. She was somewhere in her 20s. A cold and apathetic gaze rested on her face, but there was more to the story. There surely were things she cared about about. She just needed a little help remembering what was important. He caught her coming home after along day waiting tables. She never knew what hit her in the back of the head until she opened her eyes and found herself tied to a tree with a man standing over her, his eyes gleaming with purpose. Her heart is beating so fast it hurts. She could feel it trying to escape, to be anywhere but here. She writhes and tries to tug and pull, but to no avail. No she understands what's important. David soothes her with his hand, trying to calm her panicked mind. IT stops her for a moment that feels like eternity, but her stillness shields her true emotions. She fears everything about this man. "I watch you every day. From when you wake to when you sleep. When you hug mummy goodbye before hopping on the bus. But it all seems so... empty. You don't care about anything anymore, do you? It is a shame. There are so many things that are important. Don't worry, I'll show you. I'll help you." Had David gone to far? Been to bold? It did not matter. Someone like her needed to be seen the way he saw her. Her story needed to be shared! So David immortalized her like he had done so many times before. Her final moments short, but transcendent. The horror that comes with understanding the finite world we all live in. It was beautiful, and others would know what she discovered through him. Art has many mediums, many ways of telling tales told countless times. But maybe David had discovered a new way to share his message, a true visionary in a field of settlers. One must not attempt and perfect what has been done before, but forgo convention and discover for himself what is worth his ambition. He told this to himself and to others. They listened and stood in awe of his craft. She was displayed for the world to see. Crowds of famous figures and powerful people filled the halls of a once modest modern museum. The lights from cameras flickered like a fading light bulb. Every angle and detail was never too small to notice, and only further showed David's brilliance and craftsmanship. But as the busy days turned to slow weeks, he was soon left alone in the hall with his muse. He could look into her eyes forever, and know that he taught her well. It seemed cruel, but in robbing her of death, David taught her purpose and passion. Surely she knew the worth of such treasures of the mind? He stood up an scratched jawline. It had been a while since he had taken care of himself. Since teaching her, he had found less and less reasons to leave, let alone live. He still had so much to teach the world about what was important. It would be a waste to keep his knowledge to himself. The masses took to it immediately, but there was so much more to give. All he needed was another student.
	[WP] you are a murderer who coats your victims’ bodies in cement and plays them off as realistic human sculptures. one of your “works” just got into a museum.	The first time was an accident, after all. Theresa maintained the internal rationale of self-defense even now that Rachel, Aiden, Grace, and Kevin now replaced Evan's pale, reaching effigy on the plinth in the studio. Still, his face was the first cast in stone. There was no talent with him at the start — just frenetic, hysterical pulling and pushing around her basement, grateful for the superior drainage systems of new construction. His eyes felt wrong to her. She moved left, needing another angle. "He's quite spectacular." Mice walked louder than Lane. Theresa expected nothing less of a proper curator. "Not my best work," she said, raising a blunt-nailed hand to her cheek, considering the details of Evan's surprised eyebrow. "Mister Carlisle disagrees," Lane said, comfortable. He walked around Evan to stand opposite her. She watched in her periphery as he thrust thick hands into well-starched trousers. "Carlisle lives in Narnia," Theresa retorted. Lane's chortling laugh was unexpected from a man in his line of work. Echoes pulsed around the palatial room, making Theresa's lips twitch with permitted, mild amusement at her joke. She reached up, stroking the sculpted folds of the robe covering Evan's thighs. In spite of the evident flaws on every inch of him, she still marveled at the power of her careful–if belated–study in fine art. The light was perfect for him, too. "We added the spotlight." Lane pointed to the truss suspended from the ceiling over the door of the exhibit hall. "The juniors had a time of it, I'll tell you." Theresa shot him a look, mute. There was nothing in his face but earnest excitement. She looked away with a quiet exhale. "Will you join us tomorrow night?" Lane asked in a blatant attempt to fill the silence. The opening, of course, Theresa thought, tapping an index finger on her shoulder in contemplation. Could she stand around with a glass of wine and simper with critics and socialites? What amount of money would it take for her to part with Evan? Carlisle assured her it would come. He had been so sure that morning as he made coffee in her French press. His wild fantasies amused her to no end. "Wouldn't miss it," she said, eyes still analyzing Evan's imperfections. "Carlisle equates it to a coming out," Theresa said, a real smile spreading to her eyes. If only they knew the true extent. Part of her wished they did. Sculpture made up only a small section of her art, and the only one outsiders even considered. Shame. Thankfully, Carlisle would make an excellent Mr. Tumnus. It seemed an appropriate end for such a silly man. \---------------------- First post, Writing Prompts. Let me know your thoughts.	David wasn't a man of many words. He let his actions speak for him. Just the other day, he found another muse that stirred him. She was somewhere in her 20s. A cold and apathetic gaze rested on her face, but there was more to the story. There surely were things she cared about about. She just needed a little help remembering what was important. He caught her coming home after along day waiting tables. She never knew what hit her in the back of the head until she opened her eyes and found herself tied to a tree with a man standing over her, his eyes gleaming with purpose. Her heart is beating so fast it hurts. She could feel it trying to escape, to be anywhere but here. She writhes and tries to tug and pull, but to no avail. No she understands what's important. David soothes her with his hand, trying to calm her panicked mind. IT stops her for a moment that feels like eternity, but her stillness shields her true emotions. She fears everything about this man. "I watch you every day. From when you wake to when you sleep. When you hug mummy goodbye before hopping on the bus. But it all seems so... empty. You don't care about anything anymore, do you? It is a shame. There are so many things that are important. Don't worry, I'll show you. I'll help you." Had David gone to far? Been to bold? It did not matter. Someone like her needed to be seen the way he saw her. Her story needed to be shared! So David immortalized her like he had done so many times before. Her final moments short, but transcendent. The horror that comes with understanding the finite world we all live in. It was beautiful, and others would know what she discovered through him. Art has many mediums, many ways of telling tales told countless times. But maybe David had discovered a new way to share his message, a true visionary in a field of settlers. One must not attempt and perfect what has been done before, but forgo convention and discover for himself what is worth his ambition. He told this to himself and to others. They listened and stood in awe of his craft. She was displayed for the world to see. Crowds of famous figures and powerful people filled the halls of a once modest modern museum. The lights from cameras flickered like a fading light bulb. Every angle and detail was never too small to notice, and only further showed David's brilliance and craftsmanship. But as the busy days turned to slow weeks, he was soon left alone in the hall with his muse. He could look into her eyes forever, and know that he taught her well. It seemed cruel, but in robbing her of death, David taught her purpose and passion. Surely she knew the worth of such treasures of the mind? He stood up an scratched jawline. It had been a while since he had taken care of himself. Since teaching her, he had found less and less reasons to leave, let alone live. He still had so much to teach the world about what was important. It would be a waste to keep his knowledge to himself. The masses took to it immediately, but there was so much more to give. All he needed was another student.
	[WP] you are a murderer who coats your victims’ bodies in cement and plays them off as realistic human sculptures. one of your “works” just got into a museum.	The first time was an accident, after all. Theresa maintained the internal rationale of self-defense even now that Rachel, Aiden, Grace, and Kevin now replaced Evan's pale, reaching effigy on the plinth in the studio. Still, his face was the first cast in stone. There was no talent with him at the start — just frenetic, hysterical pulling and pushing around her basement, grateful for the superior drainage systems of new construction. His eyes felt wrong to her. She moved left, needing another angle. "He's quite spectacular." Mice walked louder than Lane. Theresa expected nothing less of a proper curator. "Not my best work," she said, raising a blunt-nailed hand to her cheek, considering the details of Evan's surprised eyebrow. "Mister Carlisle disagrees," Lane said, comfortable. He walked around Evan to stand opposite her. She watched in her periphery as he thrust thick hands into well-starched trousers. "Carlisle lives in Narnia," Theresa retorted. Lane's chortling laugh was unexpected from a man in his line of work. Echoes pulsed around the palatial room, making Theresa's lips twitch with permitted, mild amusement at her joke. She reached up, stroking the sculpted folds of the robe covering Evan's thighs. In spite of the evident flaws on every inch of him, she still marveled at the power of her careful–if belated–study in fine art. The light was perfect for him, too. "We added the spotlight." Lane pointed to the truss suspended from the ceiling over the door of the exhibit hall. "The juniors had a time of it, I'll tell you." Theresa shot him a look, mute. There was nothing in his face but earnest excitement. She looked away with a quiet exhale. "Will you join us tomorrow night?" Lane asked in a blatant attempt to fill the silence. The opening, of course, Theresa thought, tapping an index finger on her shoulder in contemplation. Could she stand around with a glass of wine and simper with critics and socialites? What amount of money would it take for her to part with Evan? Carlisle assured her it would come. He had been so sure that morning as he made coffee in her French press. His wild fantasies amused her to no end. "Wouldn't miss it," she said, eyes still analyzing Evan's imperfections. "Carlisle equates it to a coming out," Theresa said, a real smile spreading to her eyes. If only they knew the true extent. Part of her wished they did. Sculpture made up only a small section of her art, and the only one outsiders even considered. Shame. Thankfully, Carlisle would make an excellent Mr. Tumnus. It seemed an appropriate end for such a silly man. \---------------------- First post, Writing Prompts. Let me know your thoughts.	Last evening, a robbery in the Museum of Modern Art, or MoMA was intercepted by police. A ragtag assortment of thieves convened in the area at 10pm last night, and entered the museum. Despite all the museum's priceless artifacts of art history, the robbers had attempted to steal a much more contemporary artifact in the form of an up and coming sculptor. The man's sculptures are accoladed frequently for their realism, and representation of fear. Artists frequently say his art is as if a man were frozen within the medium of cement, the sculptor's primary medium. As the robbers were escaping the museum, a security system was accidentally activated and the police rushed to the scene. The robbers, in a hurried rush, accidentally dropped the piece, leading to a crack. There was blood in the sculpture, dripping out of the miniature crack and seeping around. And we'll be back after these short messages.
	[WP] you are a murderer who coats your victims’ bodies in cement and plays them off as realistic human sculptures. one of your “works” just got into a museum.	I was nervous to say the least. Who wouldn't be after finally having their art accepted for showing? I submitted my lover, encased in cement, with a peaceful expression for eternity. It was anonymous, I prayed to God no one would find out how it was made. However, it wasn't the brightest idea to show my work locally at all. I came along with my lover to the museum. I couldn't bear to leave my wife without a goodbye and I did feel a bit jealous others would be able to see her beauty. They were all so beautiful. I had my own art display of sorts in my basement, but somehow it felt wrong to leave my lover in the dark and cold. She needed to be surrounded with other beautiful things. I stood in the crowd, looking over the new pieces. Straight in the middle, there she was, in all her beauty, not a whisper of her death she told. She was forever. Perhaps, it was narcissistic, but I admired my own work for a long time. Others did as well, but they didn't tell me how beautiful it was. They told me it looked just like my wife. The crowd turned towards me and a demanding interview began. They asked if I made the piece, then they was sure I made it. They asked if my wife, who they were told was on a business trip, knew about it. Then they were sure she didn't. I wanted to throw up by the time they told me my wife should see it and how romantic it was for me to make that for her. Then they started to ask me when my wife would be back to see it.	I stand, back against the wall the crowd is larger than I expected for a small town art museum.the room is a buzz with small talk laced with excitement. The curator spoke and the room grew silent. “ I’m excited to reveal our newest exhibit at the Newton Fine Arts museum. This piece is entitled ‘sheer’ by an anonymous artist.” He pulled the maroon fabric off of the sculpture to reveal the detailed body of a woman. Her body was twisted as if she was trying to escape her face pure panic. The room Burst with conversations. “It’s incredible how emotive the face is.” spoke a woman to my right. “ “It’s as if some pour woman was just turned to stone” the man with her replied. I grind as the everyone praised the statue. I was glad they liked it, at least something beautiful came out of all that poor work. After all poor Candice really did suffer to make it.
	[WP] you are a murderer who coats your victims’ bodies in cement and plays them off as realistic human sculptures. one of your “works” just got into a museum.	I've always been a religious man, I always believed that one day I would get what was coming to me in some way or another. Karma an eye for an eye whatever, I knew what I was doing was horrific and evil but I didn't care it was just something I needed to do. I figured god would punish me one day but now as I look up at my last victim a miss Serena Lee encased in cement I'm not sure that day will really ever come. I've received the best new artist of the year award and have received several cash prizes for my "Pieces". Maybe the devil is working harder then god right now. Serena was a prostitute, they were easier to get into the empty cement mixing bucket I could just claim it was "kink" of mine and they reluctantly all agreed. I told them the stuff I was pouring in was just an all natural lubricant. I then noticed a pretty young girl standing behind me, she seemed entranced by the piece and had her hand under her chin as she attentively read the display next to my piece. When she saw my face, her's lit up in surprise. "Oh my god, your the artist! Right? It's defiantly you, wow you look exactly like you do in the picture!" There was a Photograph of me in a simple pose next to the description of my piece, it was taken fairly recently so I looked pretty much the same. "Yeah that's me, it must be strange for someone to be looking at their own work huh?" "No not at all, your sculpture is so thoughtful and deep, even though it's just cement it seems so real, I can almost feel the fear coming off of this girl." She told me excitedly. "How long have you been doing this?" I wasn't sure how to answer her, whether I should answer truthfully or just lie about everything. I took a slight pause and considered there was no harm in telling her simple truths, she's a obvious fan after all she won't go digging around after all. "I've been at this for about 20 years now." "Wow 20 years? I love sculpting but I've never seen one of your pieces until today." "Yeah that's because I never thought these were really good enough to be displayed anywhere." I answered truthfully "Non-sense this is in my opinion some of the best sculpting work I've ever seen, I mean the way you capture this woman's features are so lifelike." She got closer to me and clasped my hand. "Do you have other pieces? I would love to see more!" She asked me. I was bit nervous, but a light bulb went off in my head. "Would you perhaps like to be a part of my next piece?" As I said that the girl practically gushed in happiness. "To be a model for a sculpture by someone as talented as you? You would totally make my life." &#x200B;	I stand, back against the wall the crowd is larger than I expected for a small town art museum.the room is a buzz with small talk laced with excitement. The curator spoke and the room grew silent. “ I’m excited to reveal our newest exhibit at the Newton Fine Arts museum. This piece is entitled ‘sheer’ by an anonymous artist.” He pulled the maroon fabric off of the sculpture to reveal the detailed body of a woman. Her body was twisted as if she was trying to escape her face pure panic. The room Burst with conversations. “It’s incredible how emotive the face is.” spoke a woman to my right. “ “It’s as if some pour woman was just turned to stone” the man with her replied. I grind as the everyone praised the statue. I was glad they liked it, at least something beautiful came out of all that poor work. After all poor Candice really did suffer to make it.
	[WP] you are a murderer who coats your victims’ bodies in cement and plays them off as realistic human sculptures. one of your “works” just got into a museum.	There is beauty in a life, just as there is beauty in a death. I strive to capture the beauty of both in my work. I always research my art pieces, I study their lives, I learn their mannerisms. I even talk to them sometimes, while they are out living their lives. Small snatches of conversation while they are at a restaurant, snippets of dialogue when they stand in line, waiting to see a concert. I learn to love each art piece before ever I lay a hand on them. It's this love which allows me to capture their essence in my work. I steal into their rooms in the dark of night, I watch them as they sleep. I drug them, and keep them drugged. They never feel any pain. I never want them to feel pain - how could I? I love everything about these people - my art pieces. I am both famous and infamous for my work - famous in art galleries all across the world, infamous as a serial killer. The police don't know who I am though, they barely have a profile built. One of my favorite pieces, "Julia Weeps", is going on display tomorrow afternoon. I'm particularly proud of Julia - I captured her spirit perfectly. She was a woman of twenty years, but her heart ached with sadness from a hard, bitter childhood. I befriended her, I was her confidant, I was even her lover. I comforted and consoled her, told her everything would be alright, and she did not mind when I sketched her as she cried. I loved her enough to marry her. I could not let myself be so selfish; I had to give her beauty to the world. And so, regretfully, I drugged her and carried her to my basement. I broke my rule this last time, I couldn't let her die without seeing her awake one last time. I gave in to my weakness. I think it was for the best, though, for I caught those last moments of sorrow perfectly. You can still see her shaping my name on her lips, sobbing, hoping for salvation. I can't wait to see the world's reaction, I can't wait to share the art piece whom I almost married. I hope they love her as I have. ____________ /r/SirLemoncakes	I stand, back against the wall the crowd is larger than I expected for a small town art museum.the room is a buzz with small talk laced with excitement. The curator spoke and the room grew silent. “ I’m excited to reveal our newest exhibit at the Newton Fine Arts museum. This piece is entitled ‘sheer’ by an anonymous artist.” He pulled the maroon fabric off of the sculpture to reveal the detailed body of a woman. Her body was twisted as if she was trying to escape her face pure panic. The room Burst with conversations. “It’s incredible how emotive the face is.” spoke a woman to my right. “ “It’s as if some pour woman was just turned to stone” the man with her replied. I grind as the everyone praised the statue. I was glad they liked it, at least something beautiful came out of all that poor work. After all poor Candice really did suffer to make it.
	[WP]You're a Priest/Nun doing your sunset prayers in the church with the congregation. Glass shatters. Unholy demons approach your people. But you simply smile and approach them at a leisurely step. The demons now see you. They know you. And they are afraid.	Im male but this will be from a Nuns perspective. As I sat kneeling, listening to the Sunday benediction I felt it almost before i heard it. It always was that way whenever evil approached. I looked up just in time to see the windows go dark with the shadow of Satans spawn. As the stained glass turned to dust before the entire congregation i merely smiled at another chance to show the strength of my faith. Something my ex-husband mocked every time we spoke. Hundreds of demons poured in through the now open windows, hundreds more melted in from shadowy corners. The congregation began to scream and panic out the doors, showing their lack of faith in the Almighty to deliver them from evil. As these demons practiced their sacrilege by desecrating the cross at the front, and melting holy vessels with their hellfire, I stood slowly and brushed off the dust from the ruined stone. The pastor still stood at the pulpit. He at least was strong enough to stay. He gripped the cross of silver around his neck and chanted latin from the Holy Book. As the demons laughed at him, I walked forward and touched his shoulder. "Wrong passage Father. The story of Jesus feeding his congregation does not effect demons such as these." That stopped the demons mid-laughter, and the Pastor's mis-pronounced latin. I glared at the nearest hel-spawn over the rims of my glasses. Just like mother used to stare at me. Good trick Mom, thanks. "Don't make me call him directly. You know he has ways of getting here faster than you can leave." Silence. They stared, startled out of their own heretical rituals by my presence. They recognized me. Im not dangerous to them myself, but I know enough mortals that are nearly lethal to a demon. Shock. Fear. Panic. All of these emotions became evident as they realized their fate if they stay there much longer. My fingers were already dialing on my cell phone. Their screeches of panic echo through my very soul as they retreat. Back whence wherever and however they came. Seems like they even recognize his phone number. "Hey, just checking to see if you are still in business. Demons are getting bolder. Just be careful ok? Something is happening. And pray once in a while. Maybe He will listen..." There's him mocking me again. "Oh just get over your pride and pray tonight, ok? K. Bye" You'd think demons would be able to do some recon about who was at a church before they went and embarrassed themselves. To think they would attack the only place that has a nun who was once married to Constantine.	I kneeled at the cross, following along as the priest prayed. I didn't ever expect it. Glass shattered and rained down on me. I screamed, acting like an innocent nun. When I turned around, I saw demons stalking towards the humans. They were scared. In my instinct, I stepped forward. "Hey you demons! Get away from the house of the holy spirit!" I shouted. They turned toward me, fear brushing their faces. I stared at them, and they stared back. I noticed them glare down at my ring. My wedding ring. Everyone thought it was that I was 'married to god', but they were wrong. I was married to their boss, and that put me as a higher status demon than them. They shrouded back, retreating to the church across the street. They will be back, and I will be ready. More prepared, at least.
	[WP] Math is not universal, and as aliens invade Earth, they discover human mathematics and are shocked.	Ted chuckled nervously to himself as he thought about how absurd what he was doing was. If someone had told him he was going to be teaching hostile aliens mathematics, he would have called them insane. But here he was, setting up his white board as CLOG-633, one of the smartest mathematicians of the DESPAC2 species sat down. "Well human, since our species is vastly superior to your tiny excuse of a "evolved civilization", our mathematics is also superior. We've called you here since you seem to be the smartest your people, your talks are heard by many." "No, I tried to explain tha-" "No need to be humble, TED. I know you said it's a collected effort but we know the truth. Let's get started." "Right, uh, do you know anything about, algebra?" Thirty minutes later "WHY THE FK WILL THERE BE 2 DIFFERENT VALUES OF THIS EX? ARE YOU FCKING CRAZY? WHAT IS THIS TECHNOLOGY?" "Please calm down. I..let's just move on to calculus." After Another intense study session. "No, it's in-te-grate, so when you integrate the infinitesimally small value-" "WHY DON'T WE INTEGRATE YOUR PATHETIC HUMAN PENIS TED." "Please put the gun down, Sir. Just let me move on to statistics." About 5 minutes later "WHAT IS THE POINT TED?" "You know what, Sir. You're right. What's the point of any of this? We've never used it in our lives. Instead of teaching us important stuff like taxes, the education system wanted us to learn about imaginary numbers and infinite sum of digits. I'm sick of it. We deserve this Invasion and everything that comes in the future." "No, I meant what is that point you've written between those two digits." "Oh, that's a decimal."	Have you ever encountered someone who is truly random? Not likely. Usually someone who is "random" is just "being funny" or "that's what dinosaurs say". Or something. Randomness, by definition, is something that cannot be predicted. Nothing about human society is truly random. It may be difficult to predict something, but technically not impossible - if you have the general actions of a person over the course of their life they could, technically, be predicted to a small degree of error. A man could be told when he would crave a coffee. A woman could be told when she would buy a shirt. Apparently, however, humans are the only ones to have come to this realization. Mathematics is the understanding of the universe and, by extension, the logic that binds actions. With mathematics you can define actions that could be construed as truly random - chaos theory, to be exact. But even then, things can be predicted to a small degree of error. When you take a rock, and throw it, you can use mathematics to determine where and when that rock will hit a certain point. We define this in physics. You can take oxygen and phosphorus and determine the exact moment, and with a certain expenditure, that it will release energy. We call this chemistry. You can take the amount of cells required, over a specified amount of time, to reproduce and expand within a certain set of perimeters. We call this biology. Fomorians, they call themselves, have no such sense of logical understanding. They throw that rock, without thinking of the amount of force required, until it hits the point they want it to. You know all those mecha animes? Like that. They fire missiles upon missiles - the kind of missiles that by human standards would be ICBMs - until they hit the thing they want. It makes absolutely no sense. The first wave of attackers literally launched their fighters into the ground for the first 3 hours and 22 minutes, exactly. We thought they were firing some sort of bizarre artillery until we realized they were manned. After that, the fighters would be able to careen, barely, away from the ground to be able to take to the air. Only to crash into each other, mountains, the ships they launched from. It was ridiculous. A single, well-placed nuke took out one of their carriers and prompted the missile bombardment. Human fighters, inferior in terms of numbers and technology, eliminated the alien craft with ease as if they were participating in some sort of bullet hell game. It took the ESA a whole 2 and a half months to decipher the alien communications - one part luck when we realized they had no sense of logic, one part skill when we realized how simple they truly were. "Surrender or not survive not clean humans." The aliens spoke, with an imprecise and difficult to understand dialect. "We will commit your planet to not existing." "You've missed 98% of your shots. How do you possibly think that you can win a war of attrition?" "What is... parsent? Can you eat it?" Came the reply. "You have lost 59% of your strategic fighters, as far as we can tell, just by launching them." "What is... fighfty nain? Is it a type of bush?" Communications went on for a few days where we managed to figure out that the aliens have absolutely no sense of logic. None. They fire their bullets because they figured out how to use bullets by something exploding and launching something else, so they put that exploding substance in a pile and placed their bullets on top of it. Their casualties were high, but apparently they don't die unless a certain organ is ruptured. The war against the Fomorians went on for a total of 12 months, 2 days, 3 hours and 2 minutes. To the second. We learned a few things from them, but the possibility of them making it to the stars, never mind figuring out warp travel, were less than one millionth of a percent. And yet, here they are. Just like the numbers said were possible. \~\~\~\~ I'm drunk because it's my birthday but you should still follow me on /r/PM_Full_Tits because one person said they liked a story I wrote :)
	[WP] America has fallen to foreign occupation. However, it isn’t giving up so easily. Describe how a battle against the occupiers would play out in your home city.	The good thing about Kansas is that it's good tank country. The bad thing about Kansas is that it's good tank country. Diddly fuck all for cover and you can be run down fast as fuck. That's why we had to blow the bridges. Only way from tank country into the Flint Hills save the eastern plain and to get there you had to around steep hills and wooded slopes seeded with tank hunter killer teams. So they bombed us instead. Day and night for weeks before they rolled three brigades of mechanized infantry at us, one across the river, one from the plains and another right at the hills. Thing is about having what used to be a major military base just down the road from you, a bio-agro defense facility, and a bunch of angry fucking Kansans who have been cut off from liquor for three months is that we can put up a hell of a defense. We live on the GREAT FUCKING PLAINS! DRINKING IS THE ONLY THING THAT GETS US THROUGH IT! Thank god they were Russians, we needed the vodka.	My boots were firmly planted on the Ford. Hat on my head, bandana covering my face, and rifle pointed towards the sun, it was like a scene out of a Western. I could see them damned Soviets now. Their smug faces poking out of their armored cars. I was going to wait until I saw the whites of their eyes. "Oy blyat! American, vhat are you doing?" One of those smug bastards asked. I fired into the air, "this here is a robbery!" Shouts of "yeehaw," and, "remember the Alamo," filled the air as various horses and trucks poured out from the forests that ran parallel to the road. "Chert voz'mi na etikh ublyudkov!" I pulled out the surplus RPG that lay in the bed of the truck and fired at the lead tank. It exploded in a glorious ball of fire, "fuck y'alls! YEEHAW!" I charged into the fray, heading for a specific location. --- "Perezagruzit'! Perezagruzit', chert poberi!" "Oy suka, ya yedu tak bystro, kak mogu!" "Howdy, mind if I take this here tank?" "O chert! Eto American!" "The fuck you even saying you goddamned commie." "Pozhaluysta, net! My dadim vam tank, tol'ko ne-" I fired two 5.56es into the man's chest before finishing off the rest of the crew. After that was done, I reloaded the cannon before firing at a cluster of Soviets. Once they saw that I had commandeered the only other tank in the group, they knew the fight was over and surrendered. "Ah, another great fight won. Amusing how we're the only remaining state...fucking Yankees." --- rather short but meh
	[WP] You live in a world where each country has age limits. For example Sweden is for Children 0 to 6 and their parents, then they must move to Switzerland where first grade begins. Everything in that particular country is geared towards that age group.	They called it now "The Realm of the Dead", where the ones who were wasting away went. I wasn't wasting away, not yet, but I supposed my frail, old body had nothing better, nowhere else. Most of us sat in the belly of the ship, but I had declined such denial of fate. I sat in a chair on the front of the boat, just behind the shallow bowsprit that guided our voyage, watching the gray sky, the black water, and the white land we encroached. "The Realm of the Dead"- not yet, anyways, though it was still referred to as that by those who spoke of it. Many who arrived there died within the first couple months of arrival, their bodies too weak to take the furious winds and subzero temperatures. I did not fear- my body was strong, even if I was told it wasn't, and my mind was intact, even though people called me a delusional. A man in his age was still a man. I had lived a life that was full. A life filled with wonder and mystery around every corner, never in line with the desires of certainty I had as a child, but that was okay. I wished that I could return to those times, when the dark corridors of the future were never lit, no matter what light was shone into them, but those times were now long gone, and certainty consumed not just my mind, but my vision. I sighed, but chuckled as lingering memories, uncaught by the ties that attempted to seal my loose ends, returned to my head. I smiled at the land, that place that had once seemed distant and unreal, and shook my head. "The Realm of the Dead"- no, not quite, and I would make sure of it. When we docked, I was the first man to straggle off the boat, and the young man who kept the port, who one day would approach the port himself, exclaimed with mocking glee, "Welcome to the Realm of the Dead!" "No, no," I said, shaking my head with a grin, "Welcome to Antarctica." &#x200B;	Some people might call the world I live in...distasteful, at the least. Teenagers age 13-16 are in the US, and that’s where I am right now. My younger brother is in Sweden right now with my parents, so I’m here alone in a Boarding Apartment. Those are quite common, as siblings are as well. Most kids with siblings who are more than a few years apart end up off in a Boarding Apartment. The parents, on the other hand, can choose to live with one of the children or head off to some other country. Kids can’t ‘now the location of this “Parent Country” until 18, where they have to make their decision whether to work right off to that parent place or go to the College Country. Anyway, my parents on the other hand...they’re with my brother. I don’t mind that. I’m fine in this teenager town, here in the United States.... The bell rings, and I drop my journal. My room isn’t that spacious but it’s enough. I’m just happy I made the cut for a private room here. Pushing my journal into an empty desk drawer, I grab my earphones from the table and casually put them on. Slipping on some Vans, I carry my colorful skateboard under my arms while checking my phone for today’s schedule, making sure I have all my homework. I grab my backpack on the way out. I hop onto my skateboard and slide through the hallway, with floors perfect for wheeled stuff. Other kids are doing the same, some walking, texting, biking, whatever. I bump fists with a few of them, and slide down the ramp down the stairs. I skateboard across the street to the huge high school that I attend. There are a bunch of malls, more than four, within a two mile radius. There are rarely any buses, but today I see one crossing through the street. A biker almost runs me over, but I maneuver past her. This could also be the best world ever, but growing up without family.... I dunno. Anyway, according to my personality quiz, I’m an individual learner. Which means, I go to the Indiv High School. There are a lot of different options as well. This sounds great, but a bunch of my middle school friends and I separated. I pushed through the heavy double doors, and stuffed my skateboard into my locker. Another bell rings. Oh well. My life is my life. And I deal with it.
	[WP] You are the first Necronaut, the first living human to enter the afterlife.	"Would you like to say hello?" A voice says to me. Somehow, it's not like I'm hearing the voice through my ears, but rather in my head, I guess. It's hard to explain but it's like there's another person's thoughts in my mind. I lift my head to see a man standing in shadow, he has a kind face but no real discernible features. It's completely dark everywhere around except where we're standing. I realize that I didn't feel the cables when I looked up and when I reach to the back of my head, sure enough, I don't feel the cables. I realize he's waiting for my reply and I blurt out "Oh! Um... hello..." My mind feels kind of blank. I had this whole speech prepared before the fall but now all I can get out is 'um hello'. I remember being insanely nervous right before the fall but now I'm completely calm and strangely comfortable with this situation. "Not to me. Is there anyone you would like to say hello to?" I'm confused. Wasn't he trying to greet me? "I'm sorry... I don't understand." I meekly reply. "We're quite impressed with what you've all managed to accomplish. However, you will be the only one to experience this accomplishment. We will not allow any more to come through in this manner. That being said, we understand that you're all seeking the truth and, more importantly, proof. I'll ask again, is there anyone you would like to say hello to?" I'm standing with my mouth wide open, my mind racing, my entire body is frozen stiff, my eyes are watering. Who should I choose? I have the entire history of the world to pick from. Albert Einstein? Alexander the Great? Jesus? As all of the possibilities clutter my head, my mouth moves without my brain. "My mom." My eyes immediately begin to well with tears. I'm now trying to fight back sobbing, my bottom lip quivering uncontrollably. I haven't seen my mother in almost 20 years. It's almost like my 14 year old self possessed my body for that one second it took to speak those two words. I'm now flooded with all those old feelings, being reminded of all the times I cried out in the night to get my mom back, if only for just a minute. The only thing I've wished for every day of my life since that day was about to happen. The man steps aside and there she is -- mom. I stare for a second, unable to believe my own eyes. She smiles that sweet smile and whispers "Hi honey." I can't help myself and I collapse into her arms, sobbing and laughing simultaneously. She cradles me, strokes my hair, and provides the kind of comfort only she could. She smells exactly the same. "I miss you mom." I manage to squeak out. "I miss you too hon." She's beginning to softly weep. I lift my head from her chest and look up into her eyes. I feel small again, like I was as a child. I fall into the deepness of her eyes for just a moment before feeling a massive tug from my upper back. &#x200B; I open my eyes and I'm in that cold white room again, with the uncomfortable plugs in the back of my head again. So many people standing around me, staring intently. "Well?! What did you see?! Is there an afterlife?!" One of them asks urgently. I take a second to collect myself and reply "There is."	Gods. Afterlife. Ideas as old as humanity itself. Notions that have been long forgotten, replaced by modern, rational beliefs as the result of the rapid advance of science and technology. It was rather surreal, really, to see such old and abandoned ideas spread like wildfire within the population, when Dr. Jason Aldren mathematically proved the existence of an afterlife. Within days, holy texts of religions long gone became the world’s most popular books as everyone made an attempt to understand the nature of this afterlife. Religious institutions were reinstated, with mind numbingly large amounts of wealth flowing towards them, most of which were invested, perhaps surprisingly, in scientific studies. Whereas religion was thought to hinder technological advances, now it was the reason for a scientific renaissance after decades of relative stagnation. Now, finally, twelve years later, and five since the unfortunate assassination of Dr. Aldren, this renewed scientific vigor yielded results. The ability to travel to the afterlife. “Opening the gate in three…two…one…gate to the afterlife has now been opened.” A voice was heard through the radio. “This is it, ladies and gents.” I said to my crew as I readied myself up. ‘Necronauts’ is what we liked to call ourselves, and the ship that we crewed, if you could call it that, was named ‘The Necromancer’. “You know, back when I was a young lad, I wanted to explore new horizons. I would picture myself flying a spaceship or something along those lines but this…this is beyond my wildest imagination” Said Harry. He was a fellow necronaut, a forty-five year old man, with graying hair and a short beard. Harry was not only a necronaut, but also a very close friend of mine. “And what does your wild imagination think that the afterlife will look like Harry?” Cassandra, another one of our crew, asked. She was the youngest amongst us, just twenty four years old. She had shoulder length brunette hair and a thin figure. Yet, the most striking feature of hers was her mind, for she was a true genius, far smarter than the rest of us combined. “I don’t know, really. Maybe it will be a space-like void, but without any light, dark and desolate. Or, maybe, it will be the rolling green hills that the old religious texts talk about” He replied. “We are ready to proceed.” I spoke into the radio, informing those at mission control of our status. “Good. You are clear to proceed then.” The voice in the radio spoke back. I turned on the engines, and the ship started to hover just a few meters above the ground. Using it’s driving mechanism, one that I have been training with for the past couple of years, I slowly moved our ship towards the huge portal that was positioned in the middle of the testing grounds. As I did, the man behind the radio spoke to me one final time. “Good luck, Necronauts.” He said and I smiled. No one outside my crew referred to us like that, as the crew didn’t have an official name. I guess it finally stuck, after using it for so long. The travel through the gate was quick, lasting only for a few seconds. During this period, the Necromancer seemed to fly through a void darker than anything that I had seen in my life. There was absolutely nothing outside the ship’s windows, and I mean that in the most literal sense of the word. A void that went beyond what the human mind could possibly imagine. A phenomenon so strange that it could not be easily believed, even if witnessed with one’s own eyes. And as I saw the darkness before me, I could think of only one thing. If the human soul has to spend any amount of time here after death, then finding a way to immortality must become our first priority. The Necromancer exited the portal as soon as it had entered it. And, to our surprise, we found ourselves in the exact same place as where we had begun. The testing grounds. “Did we fail?” Jennifer, the fourth member of our crew, asked as she took a good look at the testing grounds. Jennifer was at the same age as I was, thirty-six years old, though the years were much kinder to her than they were to me, making her look younger than she truly was. “Perhaps some of our calculations were off?” I said, making an attempt at answering without really knowing what went wrong myself. “Or maybe the afterlife doesn’t like intrusions from the plane of the still living?” Harry added. “Because, to be fair, we don’t fully understand the afterlife yet.” He continued. “We didn’t fail. On the contrary, we met a huge success” George, the fifth and final member of the expedition, replied. “Look.” He said, pointing at an older man a small distance away from our ship. He was approaching us and, as I took a good look at him, realized who he was. Dr. Jason Aldren. He who proved the existence of an afterlife. He who was assassinated for his efforts at advancing human knowledge. An idol to practically every (living) human on earth. I opened the hatch of the Necromancer as fast as I could, and stepped outside with my crew behind me. Dr. Aldren’s stride was calm and confident, and he himself was smiling, getting ever closer to us, looking very much alive. We stayed frozen in place, not due to fear or terror, but due to awe. “Dr. Aldren.” I spoke, my voice trembling slightly. “Is this really you? If my eyes aren’t deceiving me then our efforts must have been successful.” Aldren nodded. “They have been indeed, my friends. Welcome to the afterlife. We’ve been expecting you for quite a while.”
	[WP] You are the first Necronaut, the first living human to enter the afterlife.	"If someone is reading this who has the choice, don't come here." The final line of the note shook me to my core. This is not in a million years what I would have expected to find in heaven. I would be underestimating the size of the room I stood in if I described it as large. In every direction the floor and ceiling extended out as far as the eye could see. And before me sat a lone desk with a single sheet of paper containing an account from one of the souls living eternally in the afterlife. When I was put under I wasn't sure what to expect. Would it be a the cartoonish representation human beings thought of when they heard the word heaven? St. Peter and the pearly gates? Final judgement and a "this is your life" slideshow of all of your rights and wrongs? Or would it be something completely alien? Something beyond the scope of human understanding? Thus far it's been neither of those things, as I've been stuck in this never ending room with only a single desk to keep me company for what feels like hours. Every time I try to explore the room I turn around and find myself not two steps away from the desk. "Who are you?" I hear a disembodied voice say. "I did not summon you here, and I have never seen you in my life; before or after." "My name is Ryan. I am part of a trial carried out by the School of Cognitive Sciences at MIT. " "You're from earth? Impossible.." "Yes, I am from earth. Are you an angel?" The voice laughed. It laughed for a long time. "No... no I am not an angel. I am just a poor soul, suffering in Heaven for all eternity." "Suffering?" I asked, "How are you suffering? Isn't heaven meant to be a realm of eternal happiness?" "Sure," the voice said, "it is wonderful in the beginning. An infinite kingdom filled with your own personal pleasures, inhabited by your own personal society. But that's all it is, personal. There is no conflict, no... variants. There is nothing here that goes against you, or tests you, or challenges you. All of the things that make life good are granted without merit." "That sounds wonderful. It seems ungrateful to spurn the gifts god has given you for eternity." "I am glad you think so. Because they are yours now." I felt my consciousness shift. I surveyed the room and saw the lone desk, with a now blank sheet of paper on it. Standing in front of it, I saw a body, my body. "I am leaving this place. I have long thought this impossible. I thank you for this, and I am certain that one day we will meet again, here." I heard my own voice say. My body vanished, and I did not panic. I couldn't do much of anything, I just was. There, in that limitless room with its lone wooden desk, yet not. Second later, or years, it's impossible to know, St. Peter appeared before me. "Child, you and I have much to discuss."	I knocked on the door, staring at the peeling red paint as I clutched my bag close. When it opened, a man appeared, mid-fifties and looking to have just gotten home from work. He stared at me in confusion, but I didn’t give him a chance to ask his question before I lifted my hand. “Hello, are you Carl Banner?” I asked. He folded his arm and narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?” I took a deep breath, amused with how much harder this was compared to actually traveling through the afterlife. But, I made my promises and I still had a long day of people I needed to find. “Cause I have a message for you. Please listen, it was important for him that it would reach you.” I pulled out a pair of wireless headphones and offered it to him. When he didn’t immediately grab it, I added, “It’ll only take a few minutes of your time, please sir.” Carl took it, examining it for a second before sliding it over his ears. Opening my phone, I launched my recording app and pressed play on the file labeled ‘Sam’. When the man’s eyes widened and grew bright, I turned away out of respect. Three minutes and forty-four seconds. That was how long Sam’s message was. A long time to be listening to his dad sob. When it finally finished, Carl didn’t know what to say, tears streaming freely down his face as he pulled me into a crushing hug. His voice was broken as he whispered, “Th-thank you.” “Give me an email and I can send you the file,” I offered back. He nodded, finally pulling away and rattling off his information. I sent it to him as soon as I sat in my car, knowing her would be obsessing over it for the next coming weeks. Then I pulled out my notebook and crossed out Sam from my list before plugging in the next address. As the first Necronaut, it was my job to gather any valuable data the afterlife had to offer. So many mysteries to be uncovered about our future once we left the world of the living. But, no one said I couldn’t help those with regrets. The dead worried about the people they left behind or the living left in mourning. So I turned on my car and pulled out into the street. I still had twelve more names left on my list.
	[WP] Every alien race is known for something special. Some are warrior races, others renowned scientists, others known for their beautiful art. Humanity on the other hand is known across the galaxies for one thing above all else: their food.	"Welcome to Ray's Noodle Shop," the girl behind the counter said in a cheery tone as the little bell above the door jangled its own greeting merrily. The two aliens who entered were average height by human standards. They wore clothing of a human fashion, with the small exception that their sweaters had four sleeves instead of the two. One of them stepped forward and she could see it visibly shudder as it brushed snow from its shoulders and removed the wool knit cap from its slightly conical shaped head. "Is it always this cold on this planet?", it asked with a slight sneer. "Cold?", the other responded. "It's literally freezing out there. This food had better be worth the trip." Of course, being aliens, they didn't speak English. The universal translator that all humans were implanted with at birth was allowing her to understand their speech. "Only in the winter," the girl said with a smile and ushered them forward to the counter. "You must be Tharaxian. We get a lot of you in here. I know just the thing for you." She punched a few buttons on the cash register and turned to shout toward the kitchen. "Two Tharaxian specials, Ray!" There was a muffled shout back and she turned back to the two aliens. "Is this how business is always conducted on your planet?", the first asked. "Yes," the second chimed in, "should we not choose our own food?" "Oh, trust me," the girl responded with that same cheery smile. "The Tharaxian special is why you're here. It's why all Tharaxians come here." The aliens frowned at that slightly, but ultimately accepted that perhaps this girl knew what she was talking about. After all, they had traveled halfway across the galaxy on the word of their kin. There had to be a reason so many of their people loved this particular eatery. The first handed over a cred stick and the girl processed the purchase quickly before handing it a table tent with the human number ten on it. The alien took the number and turned it over in its hands a moment, clearly confused. It looked up at the girl with a furrowed brow. "Take that with you and find a seat at any open table," she said, motioning to the mostly full dining room. There was a good mix of all races of aliens, and some humans sitting at tables and conversing quietly while they awaited their own food or ate meals that had already been delivered. "That number let's us know who gets what. We'll bring you your food as soon as it's ready." Again, the aliens seemed a bit confused, but they nodded slightly and found a small table in the corner. Some time later, the girl brought them two massive bowls of ramen with eggs, pork and shrimp. The girl didn't know what exactly Ray put in the bowls he made for Tharaxians, but it wasn't what he made for the other races. She placed them on the table with a soup spoon and chopsticks for each. She was a bit surprised when she didn't have to explain what the utensils were for. Most aliens didn't seem to have a concept of eating utensils. "Enjoy your meal!" she chirped. "Just let me know if there is anything else we can get for you." Normally at this point she would offer them a beverage, but she had been working here long enough to know that Tharaxians didn't drink. The two aliens slowly, almost reluctantly took a bite of their food. There was a moment in which they sat frozen, poised with their spoons to their mouths before they began digging with gusto. The rest of the night went by relatively the same. There were some newcomers, some regulars, some aliens that had never been to Earth before. It was the same as always, and the girl served them all with that same positive attitude, cheery tone, and bright smile. All were welcome at Ray's. Whatever the secret ingredient that the old man used, it kept people coming back day after day. Who would have thought that a small town in northern Wisconsin would be an alien tourist hotspot?	Humans were always a peculiar case. They never evolved with the luxury of self-farming fungi or a planet-wide edible plant. They were forced to scavenge. They were forced to adapt. They were forced to make do with what they had. Every race has a fundamental sense of taste, but they only evolved them in order to detect parasites hidden within their food. Humans, on the other hand, never had one consistent food source. They were forced to develop taste to identify if something was even edible, let alone tainted. Because of that, more than any other species, they developed a sort of taste-spectrum. They can identify acids and alkalis in foods, as well as identify foods high in glucose, salt, protein, carbohydrates, and so much more - and they can even tell the difference! And because their food sources were so varied and undependable, they learnt to mix different food sources into one unified meal - a "dish". From the day they formed their first civilisations up until today, food has remained a cornerstone of each culture. To them, ingestion was something to enjoy and relish, not just something your body compelled you to do. They ate to celebrate. They ate to socialise. They ate to feel better. Because of this, they developed something entirely unique to their kind - cooking. Cooking became an artform among them. How can you combine the various textures and flavours into the most succulent and enjoyable form possible? How can you present your food in such a way that it most stimulates the anticipation to eat? How can you optimise your food to be the most nutritious, yet still make it appealing to that specialised and refined taste? Before humans came into contact with the rest of us, a garton would eat when she walked past a fungus-tree, at which point her body would compel itself to claw a crumbly chunk out of it. She would ingest it as quickly as possible so she could get on with things. Now, a garton eats when she sits down at a mighty table, rife and beaming with anticipation. She will be served her course, and she will dig into it with no reservation or hesitation. As it passed her taste buds, she will feel a tranquil, vivifying appeasement and enjoyment surge through her entire body like a flood through a dry canyon. In those moments, she will become acquainted with a side of her that she has never met before; a passionate, artful soul that can supernaturally pick apart every bit of what makes the dish so stimulating to the senses and so delightful to the soul. She will ingest slowly, nourishing every mouthful as if they were the last things she will ever experience. She finish the meal satisfied in mind and body, and will return with glee to her daily duties. Fungus-trees, aibon-fruit, and tamarils have nothing upon even the worst of a human's work. Even better? Humans are terrible at literally everything else, so we can keep them as robotic slaves under our command to cook us these dishes forever!
	[WP] Aliens have landed on a Earth. As a sign of peace, they have cooked a meal, superior to any other they know, and plan to give it to our leader. Unfortunately, they think Gordon Ramsay is our leader.	The blond-haired, burly fellow known as Gordon Ramsay walked through the long hall, escorted by a young lady in white. "Right this way, sir," she said, gripping his hand. There was to be a dining party held here. Not just any dining party, but one hosted by the White House. The President would be there, as would much of congress, and even some foreign ambassadors. Even with so much near-royalty attending, the star of the evening would be none other than Gordon himself. "Here you are, sir," said the young woman, gesturing for him to open a door and step inside. His hand hovered a bit over the handle, shaking. He never shook. He was always calm under pressure, so why now? Grabbing the handle, he pulled on it and stepped inside. Bright colors filled the air. Beautiful crystal chandeliers, lit up by neon streams of light. A tremendous ice sculpture of Gordon himself stood in the center of the room, though it moved and waved to all who walked besides it as though it was a real person. Yes, this was the best of both worlds. Literally. When the alien ambassadors arrived on Earth, Gordon was surprised to learn they chose none other than he, himself, to receive their finest culinary treatment. In their culture, food meant everything. Science was made to enhance food, you needed food to grow, you made food to help others grow, and if you couldn't dedicate your life to something with food... well, you might as well become it yourself. For that reason, Ramsay, often hailed as the best chef in the world, was considered by the aliens to be this planet's leader. Reluctantly, the United States government had put aside any resistance and invited Ramsay to help negotiate long-lasting peace between worlds. As Gordon steps into the room, conversations stop. All eyes are on him. He takes another step forward, gulping. A Michelin Star is much different than negotiating peace with an entire species. Members of the alien species greet Ramsay and bow. The humans still can't get their eyes off him, but resume their conversation. A great golden table is pulled out from the center of the room, with a single throne, carved with Gordon's likeness. They gesture for him to sit, and he does. The leader of the aliens, a chef, arrives, holding a mysterious platter. He sets it down and takes off the lid. Served to Gordon is a plate of florescent, course stones, pulsating with individual circulatory systems. Half meat, half mineral. The aliens watch him with bulbous eyes. He stabs his fork into one of the meat stones, and all eyes are once again focused on him. He takes a bite, chews it. An eyebrow is raised. He sets his fork and knife down, and wipes his lips, looking back at the extraterrestrial visitors. There's a moment of pause, the two beings locking eyes for what feels to onlookers like an eternity. "It's raw." The gasp of hundreds echo throughout the dining hall, only a hand-full of them human. The alien chef is taken aback. He sputters his lips as if to say something, but no words come out. "It's fucking raw." "I-it's supposed to be raw, your Majesty." "Supposed to be raw? It tastes like it was fucking frozen, then deep-fried in a microwave. You can't tell me it's supposed to be raw after all that!" "N-no, your Majesty. The ship's microwave radiation must ha-" "Microwave radiation? You've got to be shitting me! What ever happened to nice, traditional cooking utensils? At least it's seasoned." The chef feels a crushing pain deep within his gut; the shame of all his ancestors, thousands of generators, looking at his mistake. He draws his plasma knife, and slits his own throat. A spurt of the alien's blood fires off through the air, perfectly charred into something resembling a blood sausage, and onto Ramsay's plate. "Now this is the dish I've been dying to try."	The alien invasion had finally fallen upon us. The world was quaking in fear, what would come now? Everybody who was anybody knew, but who was gonna act? Like everyone else, I huddled in my home, scared. What were they gonna do to us? The only tv stations that worked were news stations, buzzing with the same news about the disks in the sky. They weren’t your average toy drone, they were huge, the size of countries, and they loomed over us. Suddenly, from the poor quality of our news station, the entire world watched as a hatch opened up from the ship, practically melting off. A slew of dark green creatures with punctured eyes and flesh mangled mouths levitated out, their limbs unnaturally long, hands swaying next to their scaly ankles. Cameras zoomed up onto them, but they were moving too fast. Questions burned through my mind, were they going to kill us? Do they want peace? What about my family? I was trembling in my footy pajamas, feeling so exposed in the comfort of my own couch. I wanted to change the channel, but my eyes were glued to the screen. The aliens had a goal, where? They began accelerating towards a house, oh god, they were going to crash into it! At this point, whoever occupied the house was as good as dead. I was on the edge of my seat, my mind retracting, my body inching forward. Then suddenly, right outside the house, they stopped. It was like I was watching a movie, and just decided to pause the channel. They stood in front of the door, holding a bad of some sorts. One of the creatures attempted to open the door, but ended up tearing it off with a kerflunk! they were to tall for the entrance way, yet managed to crouch underway and push through. It was just a view of the house now. No reporter dared to go inside, fearing for their lives. It was just the same view, the movement of the neighboring trees reminding the audience it wasn’t just a picture. I looked around, the room seemed ominous, and I was regretting moving out for college. I shouldn’t of treated mom that way, I shouldn’t have hurt Em long ago, I shouldn’t of lived. I felt my phone buzzing beneath me, it was Rowan, a friend of mine, the only one who stayed after the incident. Things had become a bit odd since last night, and I was sure we wouldn’t be calling each other for a while. Reluctantly, I picked up the phone. “Alex?” “Yeah, you seeing this?” “Of course, who wouldn’t be” “Ha, yeah” Silence. Silence. Silence. “Alex, look, I’m sorry about what happened last night, I fucked up, and I guess I just wanted to call you, so if these alien fuckers do kill us, I want you to know I’m hella sorry” I had so much to say, yet I couldn’t bring myself to say it. “Look, I have to call some people, but I promise I’ll call you back. K?” “Oh okay” I hung up, feeling a weight release from my shoulders. I looked at my key pad. I had to do this. I don’t want to die now, there’s too many people I haven’t apologized to, there’s too many things I haven’t done. My fingers shaky, I called dialed the number, and pressed “call”. After a few rings, I hear an all too familiar voice. “Mom” “Alex” “I...I guess I need to apologize” I felt my hands shake. “I fucked up mom, I fucked up, and I’ve kept on fucking up ever since. I wish I could go back and trade my life for Emm, I wish I had never taken her on that trip, I wish I had been just a tiny fucking bit smarter, and maybe Emm would still be here. Maybe she would be a normal middle schooler by now. Maybe she’d be sitting with us as we watched our world fall apart on that old shitty tv you still have. And I hate myself every fucking day for what I did, but please mom. I can’t stand this.” There was silence on the line for a very long time. “Honey..please, don’t play this blame game. I’ve blamed myself enough” “Mom...” “This isn’t right, I know this. I’ve been a shitty mom for letting us drift apart like this when we should’ve supported each other. Tomorrow, any time you’d like. Come over, and let’s lay this to rest” “Okay mom...okay” I hung up, a bit abruptly, but that’s okay. Tomorrow, if we weren’t slaves of the aliens, I might have something a bit more figured out. Tomorrow, maybe dad would forgive me, tomorrow, maybe I’ll forgive myself. But my thoughts were cut off short when a sudden voice blasted out from the tv. “The unidentified creatures exited the house! And they have...” The world went silence, as Gordon Ramsay walked out in a dark green translucent crown, a cape made of bed sheets, and a face of pure bewilderment. The creature besides him held a jar of...strawberry jam? He held up Gordon’s cape, dipped a finger into the jam, and wrote the words “leader” onto the bed sheets. The reporters voice struck over the broadcasting “it seems like the creatures have identified the man as a leader! What’s this? The aliens seem to be holding a dish of some sorts?” Suddenly, a plate of food in hand, the creatures retreated back to their ship, and began to take off like nothing had happened. Alone in my apartment, I sat astonished. So many things had happened in the last hour. I wasn’t sure what to act on. To this day, no one knows what exactly the aliens meant to do. But in a way, those mysterious creatures just might’ve fixed a few relationships. As the aliens zoomed off, leaving an astonished Gordon Ramsey in a mythical crown on his own front porch, all I could think was thank god for Gordon Ramsay
	[WP] Aliens have landed on a Earth. As a sign of peace, they have cooked a meal, superior to any other they know, and plan to give it to our leader. Unfortunately, they think Gordon Ramsay is our leader.	"So remember Mr. Ramsay we need to establish good relations with these aliens, their species are older than humanity by about 2 million years. Their species looks similar to our own except their skin is light green colored and their heads are slightly larger due to the fact their brains are larger as well." The Head of the CIA was briefing Gordon Ramsay on his mission, The Aliens arrived only 2 days before and had specifically requested they be allowed to speak to him to offer a symbol of peace. Apparently the Aliens have been monitoring humanity from a distance for the last 20 years to see if humans were any kind of threat to them. The Aliens know pretty much everything they need to know about humankind but humankind has next to no knowledge of them. One of the few things the aliens have told them is that they believe the most widely known and respected cook in a species, is considered that species undisputed leader and greatest champion of their race. As a gesture of peace, the Aliens will present Gordon a dish that they believe to be the best dish humanity has ever come up with. After eating and exchanging courtesies the two races will be joined in friendship. "So all i have to do is eat whatever they give me and they'll become friends with us?" Gordon asked the CIA agent in his deep and stiff British and slightly Scottish accent. "That's right they'll give you whatever they consider to be humankind's greatest food creation. It will be made by the alien's best chef, their leader. As a show of understanding of our culture. Then we can officially begin diplomatic relations with them." "Ok then, I'm really curious as to what they think our greatest food creation is. I hope it's something I'm familiar with." "Just tell them that it was delicious, thank them and we can begin the real negotiations. We want this to go as smoothly as possible, their technology puts us in the stone age. We cannot risk antagonizing them under any circumstances." The agent warned Gordon sternly. Gordon boarded the alien's ship, the interior was certainly beautiful everything looked like it was made of stainless steel and it made him feel like he was in the future. He was led into a large dining area where some well dressed aliens who looked like diplomats greeted and seated him. "Welcome to our ship Earth's greatest chef, I am Milan the leader of the Afari people. We have come to great you with our offering of the greatest dish that humanity has ever come up with......... The Beef Wellington!" "Huh?" Suddenly a blue light flashed in front of Gordon and a clear stainless steel plate with a single Beef Wellington was sitting on it. "Please Enjoy." The Alien bowed in a way that Gordon had never seen before and gestured to his plate. Gordon was surprised to say the least, Beef Wellington was HIS DISH. Everyone knew how much history He had in developing and popularizing this dish. One could say he was infamous for it. And now for another species an ALIEN species that was 2 million years more technologically advanced was basically telling him that HIS DISH was the greatest food invention in human history. It filled him with a rush of joy and pride. "Are you going to eat the Wellington?" The Alien asked him. Just then Ramsay realized that he was staring too long and needed to take and actual bite of the food presented to him. He ate the entire Wellington in a single bite and threw himself back into his seat in shock. It was disgusting. Gordon was almost choking on the meat inside his mouth, it wasn't that any of it was spoiled or rotten simply that almost every single element of this dish was flat out wrong. "This is our Creative take on a dish, that I understand you've had quite a bit of involvement with. Well what do you think? Is it not improved in every single aspect?" The Alien's leader asked him. Gordon couldn't help himself. The words spilled out like a tipped over wine bottle. "Improved? INproved?! IN your fuckin arse is where is where it belongs! God it's worst then inedible! The outer shell of dough is suppose to be flaky and soft, THIS is about as hard as a stone statue's arse! The Beef Wellington was so overcooked that I had to swallow it whole, did you cook it inside the SUN before you got here?! The juices of the beef were completely destroyed!" "Is it really that bad?" The Alien asked in a low voice. "Lemme put it to you this way, if I ate my own Beef Wellington, the piss from that meal would taste better than juices of your Wellington! Maybe your more technologically advanced, but your taste buds are as advanced as a Donkey's! The only thing this crap makes me want to do is turn green like the shade of your people!" Suddenly a rumble occurred and Gordon saw a flash of blue light blinding him, when he opened his eyes the environment had changed. Then he heard a loud announcer's voice boom. "Do you hear that folks? He doesn't like it! Well let's how much chef Milan likes HIS cooking. This week in the galaxies most popular reality cooking show...... MASTER GALAXY CHEF! Where we find species from across the universe and pit them against each other in a brutal cooking competition to satisfy chef Milan, and as we all know, Milan does not hold back against the chefs that disappoint him. He is known as the flame god for a reason, he Roasts people alive! And boy are they delicious! Meet our latest addition, all the way from the Milky Way, from planet earth he is their most famous chef..... GORDON RAMSEY! Mr. Ramsey do you have anything to say before we begin?" "Fuck me" &#x200B;	"He's coming! Is everything prepared?" the small, green-skinned alien shrieked. "Yes it is fully prepared leader, we have extensively researched the favored meals of these Earthlings and combined it with our own meal of Garganosh soup," responded the alien chef. The large metal doors of the spaceship swung open and in walked Gordon Ramsay. His brow was furrowed, and he looked around at the sight before him, "Well then, what have you prepared for today?" he inquired. "Hello Overlord Ramsay, please sit," the head alien responded, gesturing towards an elegant throne at the head of a long marble table with a covered dish at the center. "As a sign of peace, we offer you the best food in the galaxy, combined with the Earth food your people so dearly covet." Gordon slowly sauntered over to the throne and took a seat. He took the lid off the dish and stared down at the meal before him. A goopy, green soup greeted him in the center, and surrounding the main dish was a spattering of dino-nuggets. Gordon took a silver spoon and dipped it in the soup before taking a gulp of it and immediately spitting it out. He then angrily grabbed a t-rex nugget and took a small bite. He then put the lid back over the dish and sat for a moment, contemplating. "May I speak to the alien who made this?" he asked. The alien chef proudly strolled up to the table and declared: "Yes Overlord Ramsey, I am the chef who made this delicious meal." Gordon abruptly stood up as smoke flowed from his ears. "What in the holy hell makes you think you can call this pile of shit a meal?!" he screamed. "My three year old daughter could cook crispier nuggets in an easy bake over, and I wouldn't fee this soup, or whatever the fuck it is to my dog! You call me up here to serve me food and I am still wondering where the hell it is, because food is supposed to be edible. Say it with me, edible! I've tasted some awful food on Kitchen Nightmares but this, this shit could be used as a torture device! The fact you even call yourself a chef is laughable you absolute, utter imbecile!" As the aliens stood in shock, Gordon stormed out of the room. The leader of the aliens clenched his fist, "Everyone to your battle stations, that was a declaration of war."
	[WP] Aliens have landed on a Earth. As a sign of peace, they have cooked a meal, superior to any other they know, and plan to give it to our leader. Unfortunately, they think Gordon Ramsay is our leader.	"So remember Mr. Ramsay we need to establish good relations with these aliens, their species are older than humanity by about 2 million years. Their species looks similar to our own except their skin is light green colored and their heads are slightly larger due to the fact their brains are larger as well." The Head of the CIA was briefing Gordon Ramsay on his mission, The Aliens arrived only 2 days before and had specifically requested they be allowed to speak to him to offer a symbol of peace. Apparently the Aliens have been monitoring humanity from a distance for the last 20 years to see if humans were any kind of threat to them. The Aliens know pretty much everything they need to know about humankind but humankind has next to no knowledge of them. One of the few things the aliens have told them is that they believe the most widely known and respected cook in a species, is considered that species undisputed leader and greatest champion of their race. As a gesture of peace, the Aliens will present Gordon a dish that they believe to be the best dish humanity has ever come up with. After eating and exchanging courtesies the two races will be joined in friendship. "So all i have to do is eat whatever they give me and they'll become friends with us?" Gordon asked the CIA agent in his deep and stiff British and slightly Scottish accent. "That's right they'll give you whatever they consider to be humankind's greatest food creation. It will be made by the alien's best chef, their leader. As a show of understanding of our culture. Then we can officially begin diplomatic relations with them." "Ok then, I'm really curious as to what they think our greatest food creation is. I hope it's something I'm familiar with." "Just tell them that it was delicious, thank them and we can begin the real negotiations. We want this to go as smoothly as possible, their technology puts us in the stone age. We cannot risk antagonizing them under any circumstances." The agent warned Gordon sternly. Gordon boarded the alien's ship, the interior was certainly beautiful everything looked like it was made of stainless steel and it made him feel like he was in the future. He was led into a large dining area where some well dressed aliens who looked like diplomats greeted and seated him. "Welcome to our ship Earth's greatest chef, I am Milan the leader of the Afari people. We have come to great you with our offering of the greatest dish that humanity has ever come up with......... The Beef Wellington!" "Huh?" Suddenly a blue light flashed in front of Gordon and a clear stainless steel plate with a single Beef Wellington was sitting on it. "Please Enjoy." The Alien bowed in a way that Gordon had never seen before and gestured to his plate. Gordon was surprised to say the least, Beef Wellington was HIS DISH. Everyone knew how much history He had in developing and popularizing this dish. One could say he was infamous for it. And now for another species an ALIEN species that was 2 million years more technologically advanced was basically telling him that HIS DISH was the greatest food invention in human history. It filled him with a rush of joy and pride. "Are you going to eat the Wellington?" The Alien asked him. Just then Ramsay realized that he was staring too long and needed to take and actual bite of the food presented to him. He ate the entire Wellington in a single bite and threw himself back into his seat in shock. It was disgusting. Gordon was almost choking on the meat inside his mouth, it wasn't that any of it was spoiled or rotten simply that almost every single element of this dish was flat out wrong. "This is our Creative take on a dish, that I understand you've had quite a bit of involvement with. Well what do you think? Is it not improved in every single aspect?" The Alien's leader asked him. Gordon couldn't help himself. The words spilled out like a tipped over wine bottle. "Improved? INproved?! IN your fuckin arse is where is where it belongs! God it's worst then inedible! The outer shell of dough is suppose to be flaky and soft, THIS is about as hard as a stone statue's arse! The Beef Wellington was so overcooked that I had to swallow it whole, did you cook it inside the SUN before you got here?! The juices of the beef were completely destroyed!" "Is it really that bad?" The Alien asked in a low voice. "Lemme put it to you this way, if I ate my own Beef Wellington, the piss from that meal would taste better than juices of your Wellington! Maybe your more technologically advanced, but your taste buds are as advanced as a Donkey's! The only thing this crap makes me want to do is turn green like the shade of your people!" Suddenly a rumble occurred and Gordon saw a flash of blue light blinding him, when he opened his eyes the environment had changed. Then he heard a loud announcer's voice boom. "Do you hear that folks? He doesn't like it! Well let's how much chef Milan likes HIS cooking. This week in the galaxies most popular reality cooking show...... MASTER GALAXY CHEF! Where we find species from across the universe and pit them against each other in a brutal cooking competition to satisfy chef Milan, and as we all know, Milan does not hold back against the chefs that disappoint him. He is known as the flame god for a reason, he Roasts people alive! And boy are they delicious! Meet our latest addition, all the way from the Milky Way, from planet earth he is their most famous chef..... GORDON RAMSEY! Mr. Ramsey do you have anything to say before we begin?" "Fuck me" &#x200B;	The nervous looks of all onlookers is apparent, and the weight of this occasion is not lost on anyone, least of all Gordon. He sits in his chair, impatiently waiting for these visitors to share their cuisine. For this culture that is trying to befriend us, the flavour, aesthetics and the love put into a meal is their greatest type of an olive branch to an unknown neighbor. “Fcking Hell!!!” Gordon exclaims, staring at the dish sent to him. “It looks like if doctor frankenstein attempted to revive a fcking scorpion, and left it on the front door of an orphanage.” Though the metaphor is lost on our visitors, they still invite Gordon to try it. He takes his fork, and breaks open the arthropod’s underbelly, where it looks like they’ve made the tissue and surrounding organs into a dish. “Wow, this is f*cking great!” Exclaims a surprised Gordon, opening up and taking another bite, and then another. “It tastes like a perfectly cooked lobster, but the flavors are tangy, sour and succulent. I’m also getting an aftertaste that tastes similar to rum or raspberries. Excellent dish, I’m excited to see what else you’ve got.” As everyone on earth looks on, stunned and staring in disbelief, the aliens are welcomed by Ramsay, and are encouraged by Ramsay to try our cuisine. Perhaps, we’ve made an unexpected friend in this massive universe.
	[WP] “I always wanted to beat you.” said the super villain to the tombstone. “But not like this.” Tears left wet trails down their face. “Not like this.”	She slid down the tombstone and onto the ground, her fingers curling into the freshly dug up earth. She'd never bothered going to a graveyard before, but this one was special. "I always wanted to beat you," she said, looking back at the engraving. She held a paper bag with one hand. The other came up to wipe a tear that had fallen across her cheek. "But...not like this." Her chest tightened. She wanted to start crying, and she muttered again, "not like this." A swig of whisky came next. It was horribly cheap and powerful enough to strip the fur off a cat. She gulped her next couple of swallows, and the pain numbed her eyes enough to stop the potential tears. She stared straight ahead for several minutes. Silence had fallen over the cemetery, and it was only after the security light in the parking lot shut off that she spoke again. "You know what you called me once? You remember? A "villain". You called me a villain. Like we were fucking ten and reading comic books." Another swig of whisky, and the monologue continued. "I was just home from rehab, and you were on break from college. And you came in acting so. much. better. than me. You were going to graduate with honours and had the perfect friends. The perfect boyfriend. And that perfect fucking hair. So I put dye in your shampoo, and it stained those perfect blonde curls, and you called me a villain. It was pathetic." More alcohol. More gripping the bottle like it was hallowed ground. Because this had to come out. It'd been festering too long. "Mom kicked me out for that, you know. You got me kicked out over a stupid prank. I had no where to go. Started dealing again. Got involved with a bad crowd, and I went to rehab three more times after that. Over your stupid hair!" She stood up then and went to take a final drink. But it was empty. The bottle smashed against the tombstone, breaking into pieces. "So I won! I beat you! I got clean. I went to school. I'm getting married, and I'm wearing Grandma's ring, and everything is going to be perfect! I'm going to have two-point-five kids and live in a house with a white fucking picket fence. AND I WIN." Her voice had gotten progressively louder, like a symphony reaching a crescendo. But when she saw the markings on the grave, her breath caught. Her voice broke. Tears streamed down her face as she knelt back down on the ground. The broken glass dug into her knees, and the marble chilled her as her fingers latched onto the sides. "The wedding is tomorrow," she said, and the tears started come harder. "It's tomorrow, and you've been gone five years now. I did everything I could to be better than I was before you died. I did everything I could. Pulled myself from nothing. And I did it all. I did everything you never did, and I beat you. "So why do I still feel like I've lost? Why do I still feel beaten?"	The explosion had been terrific. Gorgeous, really, but too powerful. Obviously he expected it to destroy half of the city but he didn't realize that the radiation had stripped Captain Justice of his powers, that the blast from his laser beam would burn a hole straight through his heart, that his arch nemesis wasn't able to deflect the beams like he'd always done for so many years. The Deviser had been in the supervillian game since he was young, so he was no stranger to violence. He'd killed people, he'd held hostages, sure. But he never did anything really bad to them —besides the killing— but it was nothing a normal human couldn't do to them. He was a villain, yes, but he was also a gentleman. He wasn't a barbarian by any stretch of the imagination. He reserved his powers for deflecting gunshots, knocking weapons out of the hands of policemen, or tearing an attractive hostage's skirt or top in juuuust the right spot, but he had never ever killed a normal human with his powers. That just wouldn't have been fair. And where was the fun in it? Sure, he loved money and he enjoyed being powerful, but not for its own sake. He loved the problem-solving, the inventing! He loved having an adversary with a brilliant mind, and it had taken him years for him someone who was so, well, so compatible with him. Mind against mind, survival of the fittest *mind, was the game he loved. But it was all over. Too quickly, it was all too abrupt. And he had no idea how to handle the loss. "I guess I won, Captain Justice." He spoke softly, hovering over the tombstone, "I always wanted to beat you, but not like this...I wanted to fight, but—" he faltered, "But I never wanted it to end this way. I never wanted—I actually thought," he laughed, "I thought that one day when we were old and tired, we'd sit back and watch the world together. We'd watch the new villain-superhero rivalry, laughing at their mistakes cheering for our own side, you know? Like buddies watching a boxing match." He floated down, landing a few feet in front of the grave. He walked towards headstone and kneeled, placing a laser cartridge into the ground at the foot of it. "To the game. I'll never find a more worthy opponent." He turned away quickly, holding back tears, but before the first one could fall down his cheek he heard something... He levitated and spun around just in time to see Captain Justice clicking the laser cartridge into a device on his left wrist. The Captain smiled at him. "WHAT!!!!" The Deviser was shocked, surprised, flabbergasted, thrilled*. A slow smile crept across his face, "HOW DID YOU???" Captain Justice just kept smiling. He lifted his arm, aimed, and prepared to fire. The game was still on.
	[WP] After death, you go on trial to see whether you should be let into Heaven, or stuck to in Hell. Satan is the judge. Everyone expects him to be super biased againt you and to be an overall prick. But in reality, Hell is becoming overcrowded. He doesn't want you to go to Hell either.	I was frantically recalling as many memories as I could from my lifetime on Earth. Was I a good person? I was in Hell, but not necessarily staying. My afterlife lawyer walked me into a small room with a blatant look of disappointment on his face. There was something about him that terrified me. "Is your last name pronounced Lah-mew or Lee-max?" my lawyer asked me after we both were seated. "The first way is correct- LeMieux," I responded. "Listen, Dr. Sarcastica I don't need any of your shit. You were a twisted, fucked-up soul- I know it, you know it. Judge Satan knows it. But we have one thing going for us," the man said sternly. I listened on, my reminiscing mind still racing. "Summer of 2008. You were in the middle of a traffic congestion coming up on an intersection. There were several cars from a side shopping complex waiting to turn into the main road. You let not one, not two, not even three- but you, Jason Sarcastica, let four cars in. This, in my opinion, makes you a hero." I tried to remember just what in Hell he was talking about. Nothing was clicking- it didn't seem like something I would do. At that moment, a knock came at the door and an angel peeked its heavenly head through. "Mr. Leemax? Satan will see you now," the angel said. "He's an angel, how does he not know how to say my name?" I asked my lawyer. "Believe it or not Leemax, angels are busy. They have a lot of angel stuff to do; now let's go in," the lawyer replied. We walked into the rattiest courtroom I'd ever seen, yet had the highest ceilings and the largest podium. It was candlelit with broken windows throughout the moldy wooden foundation, and mysteriously reeked of a marijuana-type aroma. I noticed both demon and angels alike in bleachers, yet no other humans. He guided me up to the front desk and we took a seat. I gazed over at the opposite side where my supposed prosecutor shuffled papers. A dark, purple creature resembling Gollum emerged from the behind the panel and he announced to the room to all rise to which we all subserviently responded. The ground began shaking as loud stomps came from behind the judge's podium. The ambiance in the entire room became a vivacious red as a twenty-foot figure broke through the front wall, taking a seat in his massive throne. He put on a pair of comically large, thick reading glasses and began sorting through documents. "Let's see, Mr. Leh... lee... nope. What do we got here- real estate agent, paid his taxes, didn't urinate in the shower," Satan removed his reading glasses and continued, looking toward me, "yeah, he wouldn't fit in here. Angels- send him in to Heaven. Tell JC he still owes me five bucks! I told him Luke Cage would never last and he's been dodging my ass." "Hold on just one second," my would-be prosecutor belted out, rising from his chair. "This man is responsible for putting over thirty different families in poverty due to his manipulative and deceitful tactics in real estate! He also would masturbate to softcore candid porn. Fucking weirdo, right? This guy has Hell written all over his Dr. Sarcastic ass." Satan sighed with audible disgust. "Okay, fine. And what does the defense got? Someone said something about him not peeing in bathtubs, I believe? That's pretty goddamn impressive, but what does the defense got?" My lawyer approached a TV monitor that was strapped to a cart like it had been wheeled into third grade. A movie came on showing me in my Toyota Camry with a cheesy grin on my face as I sat in traffic. The video played out, and given there was no doctoring done to this video, my lawyer was right about me letting four people in. The video cut to a person parking their car, and immediately pull out their cell phone and call somebody. "Dude, you'll never believe what just happened!" the man enthusiastically shouted into his phone. "Some hero just let four cars in during traffic. It was the most inspiring thing I've ever seen in my life," the man on the TV screen said. It cut to another guy, who was sitting next to an older man. The new character explained to his father about my good deed. Then the video cut to the old man tearing up a document to which my lawyer pressed a button on a remote to pause the video. "This man was an important politician who was going to sign a bill that would allow the FDA to turn their backs on carcinogenic chemicals being used in processed foods! Though the prosecution makes a solid argument of my client's annoying sarcasm, Mr. Leemax's good deed led to thousands- maybe even millions of people being saved! Satan spoke up. "Wow, that's unprecedented beauty, is it not Juror 4?" He said directing his question toward the jury of demons. They all looked confusingly at each other, one putting his hand on his chest questioningly before Satan interrupted. "That's right, Juror 4 seems to agree. Alright we shall now have the jury vote." The demons took four seconds before returning into the courtroom. "Have the jurors reached a unanimous decision?" Satan questioned. Juror #4 approached the podium, handed Satan a paper and said, "yes." Satan looked at the rest of the jury. "I think- no I think you're all supposed to say it at once. Are you all umannimous?" Satan butchered. "Yes," they replied in unison. Satan unfolded the document and placed his comical reading glasses on. Satan shed a tear, as he chokingly let out his cries of triumphant joy. "Mr. Leemax shall be sent to Heaven as a new angel. We won't get to have him here in Hell to suck our resources dry; how fucking sad," Satan grabbed the gavel and smashed it onto the podium. "Court adjourned!"	The DA of hell's second circle, Beelzebub, had taken a special interest in my case file. Word is the big boss himself was putting the squeeze on him, literally, Satan put him in a hydraulic press turned it on and then only gave him immortality, not indestructibility. Satan don't play. Why would the devil take a special interest in one man's soul? Mine is a precedent case and hell is having serious overcrowding issues. My case was special, although I was touching myself for pleasure but it was not technically my genitals, instead a periodic swirling of the nipple was my habit and delight. To you reader, you are probably scared now, I mean who doesn't caress their own chest? Fear not, for satan, having a large pool of lawyers to draw upon in the lowest circle of hell, was able to win the case. I went to heaven along with all other nipple touchers, and so will you, dear reader.
	[WP] You accidentally keyed in a smiley emoji on Amazon and was surprised to find a lone product result. Out of curiosity, you purchase it and have it instantly delivered. You spend the next 8 hours feeling "the happiest ever in your entire life". You try searching other emojis	When the happiness faded I ran back to the computer. I couldn't believe what had happened, but there was no denying it. Tentatively, I typed in the angry emoji. One result. The same for the one with hearts for eyes. The same with the one that looked unimpressed, the one with a halo, the one vomiting. I typed in the poop emoji. There was one result for that too. I stared. What could that be? Tentatively, unable to resist, I purchased it. The doorbell rang. I crept over to answer it, half terrified, half giggling. There was no one there, like before, just a simple amazon box. I gave it a wary sniff, but got nothing, so I planted it on my kitchen table to open it. It was a large bag of what looked like gummy bear candy. A label on the side said "Haribo: Sugar Free". I'd come this far... I ate a handful, and waited. Eight hours later, when I got off the toilet and limped back to the computer, I resolved to take the whole thing more carefully next time. I ordered happiness again. I needed it.	On hindsight, ordering the anger emoji may not have been the best idea. Well, as they say, hindsight is a bitch, and honestly? Fuck hindsight. Okay, so the effects may not have worn off completely yet. The physical effects, on the other hand, definitely won’t wear off for a long time. The room was a scene of carnage. Shattered glass, shards of wood, broken furniture, torn cloth covered every inch of floor. The fury lasted 8 hours. Eight continuous hours of blood boiling and bubbling in the veins, of heart pounding an erratic and speeding beat, of a constant supply of adrenaline shooting to the brain. Eight hours of irrationally hating the entire world, wanting to destroy everything, smash everything, and then, when the rage kept bottled inside bursts out, actually doing so. The result of those eight hours? An emptiness in the heart and a heap of broken memories. Guess buying strange things off Amazon is really a bad idea.
	[WP] You accidentally keyed in a smiley emoji on Amazon and was surprised to find a lone product result. Out of curiosity, you purchase it and have it instantly delivered. You spend the next 8 hours feeling "the happiest ever in your entire life". You try searching other emojis	When the happiness faded I ran back to the computer. I couldn't believe what had happened, but there was no denying it. Tentatively, I typed in the angry emoji. One result. The same for the one with hearts for eyes. The same with the one that looked unimpressed, the one with a halo, the one vomiting. I typed in the poop emoji. There was one result for that too. I stared. What could that be? Tentatively, unable to resist, I purchased it. The doorbell rang. I crept over to answer it, half terrified, half giggling. There was no one there, like before, just a simple amazon box. I gave it a wary sniff, but got nothing, so I planted it on my kitchen table to open it. It was a large bag of what looked like gummy bear candy. A label on the side said "Haribo: Sugar Free". I'd come this far... I ate a handful, and waited. Eight hours later, when I got off the toilet and limped back to the computer, I resolved to take the whole thing more carefully next time. I ordered happiness again. I needed it.	Just once more. Just try it. It had been about 30 minutes since the elation had worn off, and it was all I could do to tear myself away from the screen and the rapidly fading memory of its fruits. I lay shaking, no rattling, in my bed, sweat pasting the sheets to my clammy body. Had I always felt this empty? I glanced over to the glare of the screen. It was impossible. And yet- A thought gnawed the back of my mind, but was quickly cast aside. Fear gave way to wonder. Already I was forgetting; the ecstasy, the pure, unadulterated bliss of the last 8 hours. The more I reassured myself of its authenticity, the more quickly the memory bled away. My body felt disgusting. Every dull ache, every second of sluggishness, every nauseating pull of air only exacerbated the feeling. Had I been living like this all this time? Had existence always been this pathetic? Tears pricked my eyes, as the shaking worsened. It had to be real... My body was moving before my mind and before I knew it I was back at the desk. “This product is out of stock.” A moment of panic, quickly quelled when I noticed the ’Type Name’ button a little lower down. Trembling hands managed to navigate the mouse over and select it. My eyes widened as I cycled through the options. Every smiley emoji was listed, and of them, there were still at least another ten that could constitute as ‘happy’ emojis. I composed myself, a crude back of the arm to clean my face of the tears and snot, and a quick lick of the lips, and gingerly selected my option. * I don’t know how long has passed since I’d started this...I’d been...vaguely aware of my flat mate leaving out for work a few times... I... My stomach was hurting again... I glanced over the empty water bottle, maybe there was another dro- No....empty. I felt tired... God is this how everyone was living all the time? So weak and torpid? so disgusting? It was a good thing I had found my happiness. How did people stand it...the constant odour of excrement...the perpetual hunger....how had I not realised my own suffering before this? Well it didn’t matter now. It took all of my effort to shift my arm over towards the mouse, the grunt that accompanied the lunge scorched the aridity from my throat. Any remaining energy I had left seized my muscles as frantic scrolling only confirmed my fears. It was over. Even the riskier emojis were sold out now. I could feel my heart trying to break its way out of my chest. Every thud and racked breath sent another wave of pain crashing through my body What kind of company only had a stock count of one? An exasperated groan only left my body in more pain. Had I really used up all of them already, it couldn’t be? I could feel myself panicking, my God was I having a heart attack? I could hear the blood rushing in my ears carrying my heart’s cries for freedom. This was it. I knew once I’d experienced true bliss that life would only feel like suffering, but it seemed like my body was no longer willing to survive in this condition. My eyes began rolling towards the back of my head, my throat sealed shut. Frantic clicking punctuated my gurgles. I’m dying. I’m dying. Why wasn’t it working? I couldn’t see the screen but surely I must have hit something? I’M DYING. I’M DYING** And then... It was all gone. It had been delivered. Strength returned to my limbs, and the pain drained from my body. I heard the door. My flatmate. My flatmate A slow smile grew on my face. I looked around the room, among the bottles of urine and bags of faeces and chuckled. I twisted my head towards the door and spotted what I was looking for. Yes. I had found my happiness. One last look at my current order, before I pushed away from my desk and walked towards my door. I couldn’t stop sniggering, it was going to be so funny. Yes, this was a good choice, I had been nervous to select it earlier, but a smile was a smile. I cracked open my door. He looked up and smiled. “Oh hey du-, bloody hell, what’s that smell? Did you forget how to shower or something?” “Oh, you know, assignments and whatnot, you know how tough Medicine gets, say....you mind helping me with a quick...experiment?” I reached down to the object leaning on the wall. “Sure man, you’re gonna have to shower fi-...dude you been hitting the books too hard? What’s with that look?” My hand wrapped around the top of the baseball bat. Edit: Formatting

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