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I am actually stealing this from an old askreddit thread where this was an answer to something like 'what would you wish upon your worst enemy'. I liked the concept, but didn't find any such prompt in this sub's history. I love reading y'all, so here goes. | [WP] On the day of their death, every human gets to have a vision of meeting the man they could have become. | They say that what you think about in your last moment is the most important thing in your life. I hope that’s not true because as I lay here dying, my insides intermingled with the machinery that has kept me alive for weeks, I’m not thinking about my kids, my ex-wife, or my legacy but only about her. Even though it was years and years ago, I can still conjure up a crystal clear image of her face but slowly it begins to slip away. Her features began to dim and seem to melt into one senseless blob and then I blink and she’s no longer there.
I blink again.
My hospital bed is gone and I can only see blank whiteness stretching as far as I can see. I wondered if this was heaven, hell or something in between. Then, emerging from the whiteness, I see a man walking towards me. He’s dressed in a crisp black suit with slicked back hair the way I used to wear it back in the day...
It takes a few minutes for the realization to sink in that I’m walking towards myself. Whatever that means. It feels almost as if your mirror image was suddenly no longer bound by certain physical laws of his dimension but just started to get up and walk straight out of the mirror and towards you.
I approach him warily and hear myself speak.
“Well, it doesn’t seem appropriate to ask 'who are you?' so I’ll start with 'what are you?' “
“I’m what would have happened if you stayed with her.”
“And…what is that supposed to be?”
“Happy.”
~~~~I actually wrote a lot more but decided just to post this intro just to gauge interest and/or see if anyone cares and/or so I don't feel like a loser writing a huge post no one cares about :(
| I wasn't afraid—I never was—until they put the rope around my neck.
I guess when a man is about to die, his spirit braces itself. Their mind slows down and all of your emotions sort of swirl, not quite knowin' what to do with themselves. So I stood there, sweating more than I would like to admit, as my spirit was clawing around trying to get out.
And then it did.
I saw it leave my body like a snake sheds it's skin. It whirled around in a cloud of luminescent blue until resting in front of me as a person. I looked around me to see if anyone else was seein' what I was seein', but they was all standing around frozen.
The fog had finally come to a rest, and it was me! it had my nose and everything, although less broken...
"Dammit, Joel!" I flinched as it suddenly came alive and yelled into my face.
"Wha—but—" I stammered, tryin' to make sense of the situation.
"You had to go and get yourself lynched huh? Just had to kill the guy..."
"Are you...me?"
"Yes. Well, no. I'm the *you* you should've been."
"I should've been?"
"Yes, should've been, but didn't become."
"Well..." I just stood there wide-eyed and silent. I guess that's how most men are at the gallows, but I suppose meetin' myself wasn't quite what I had expected.
"Well I guess I could've done things a bit differently..."
"Of course you could've. But that doesn't matter now."
I looked down at the ground and thought about it. I guess my life sort of, well, flashed before my eyes.
Dropping out of school was probably my worst mistake. But my parents sure didn't help. When I got Mary pregnant, that wasn't good. I got a job though. One that kept me busy too. But I lost it soon enough, never held a job for more'n a couple years after that.
I didn't mean to kill him. He was just in the way, and the boys told me to deal with him. I guess I just punched him too hard. Maybe it was meant to happen. Maybe it's better that I died.
"Yeah, doesn't matter anyways," I said.
"Damn..." My spirit was staring off into nowhere now. "Coulda really been somethin'."
"'scuse me?"
"A few more years and you would have found her. You were going to come around, ya know. We can sense things like that, spirits."
"Wait...find who?"
"Who do you think? Your daughter. She's been lookin' for you. She'll find you now, a bit late though."
I was wide-eyed again. She was looking for me? No one was ever lookin' for me...
Suddenly I could hear the people moving around me again. My spirit just stood in front of me without a word. I heard them pull the lever and I my stomach lurched as I fell, but that was it. Didn't feel nothin'—like fallin' asleep, really.
All I could think of was my daughter, probably more beautiful than her mom even. Out there looking for me...isn't that somethin'?
|
I am actually stealing this from an old askreddit thread where this was an answer to something like 'what would you wish upon your worst enemy'. I liked the concept, but didn't find any such prompt in this sub's history. I love reading y'all, so here goes. | [WP] On the day of their death, every human gets to have a vision of meeting the man they could have become. | "Hello Sam" the mirror said to me.
"What the fuck! A talking mirror with me wearing a suit" i yelled!
At this point i passed the fuck out. | I wasn't afraid—I never was—until they put the rope around my neck.
I guess when a man is about to die, his spirit braces itself. Their mind slows down and all of your emotions sort of swirl, not quite knowin' what to do with themselves. So I stood there, sweating more than I would like to admit, as my spirit was clawing around trying to get out.
And then it did.
I saw it leave my body like a snake sheds it's skin. It whirled around in a cloud of luminescent blue until resting in front of me as a person. I looked around me to see if anyone else was seein' what I was seein', but they was all standing around frozen.
The fog had finally come to a rest, and it was me! it had my nose and everything, although less broken...
"Dammit, Joel!" I flinched as it suddenly came alive and yelled into my face.
"Wha—but—" I stammered, tryin' to make sense of the situation.
"You had to go and get yourself lynched huh? Just had to kill the guy..."
"Are you...me?"
"Yes. Well, no. I'm the *you* you should've been."
"I should've been?"
"Yes, should've been, but didn't become."
"Well..." I just stood there wide-eyed and silent. I guess that's how most men are at the gallows, but I suppose meetin' myself wasn't quite what I had expected.
"Well I guess I could've done things a bit differently..."
"Of course you could've. But that doesn't matter now."
I looked down at the ground and thought about it. I guess my life sort of, well, flashed before my eyes.
Dropping out of school was probably my worst mistake. But my parents sure didn't help. When I got Mary pregnant, that wasn't good. I got a job though. One that kept me busy too. But I lost it soon enough, never held a job for more'n a couple years after that.
I didn't mean to kill him. He was just in the way, and the boys told me to deal with him. I guess I just punched him too hard. Maybe it was meant to happen. Maybe it's better that I died.
"Yeah, doesn't matter anyways," I said.
"Damn..." My spirit was staring off into nowhere now. "Coulda really been somethin'."
"'scuse me?"
"A few more years and you would have found her. You were going to come around, ya know. We can sense things like that, spirits."
"Wait...find who?"
"Who do you think? Your daughter. She's been lookin' for you. She'll find you now, a bit late though."
I was wide-eyed again. She was looking for me? No one was ever lookin' for me...
Suddenly I could hear the people moving around me again. My spirit just stood in front of me without a word. I heard them pull the lever and I my stomach lurched as I fell, but that was it. Didn't feel nothin'—like fallin' asleep, really.
All I could think of was my daughter, probably more beautiful than her mom even. Out there looking for me...isn't that somethin'?
|
I am actually stealing this from an old askreddit thread where this was an answer to something like 'what would you wish upon your worst enemy'. I liked the concept, but didn't find any such prompt in this sub's history. I love reading y'all, so here goes. | [WP] On the day of their death, every human gets to have a vision of meeting the man they could have become. | It was 3 AM when the Man-Who-He-Should-Have-Been entered the room. Maita was asleep on the couch, so Alfredo was alone to meet him.
"Hi," Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been said.
"Hi, yourself. I guess it's time."
"Yes it is."
Alfredo-Who-Was looked at Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been from head to toe. He was about fifty, the same age he was. He had a slight paunch and his shoulders a bit rounded. He had on a dark suit and his hair was combed neatly. Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been looked back. For a long time, they said nothing.
"Well, go on, you son-of-a-bitch," Alfredo-Who-Was said.
"Go on what?" Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been replied.
"Go on and tell me what a great life you had, how much money you made, all the mistakes you didn't make, all the right things you did...." Alfredo-Who-Was couldn't believe how angry he was, or why, but he was angry.
Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been raised a finger to his lips. "Shhhh..." he said gently. Then he began:
"Well, if you must know. Just the highlights: I took with a degree in Science Education from Xavier University, after I decided Engineering wasn't for me. I taught in Mayor Elias Lopez Public High School right after I graduated. My students have gone on to become doctors, lawyers, entrepreneurs, artists, teachers, and engineers. I have a small house in Belisario Village and I drive a 2003 Honda Civic. I pull in about P600,000 a year...."
Alfredo-Who-Was stared goggle-eyed at his double. "What?" he sputtered. "But...that's my life!"
"...and as to all the right things I did, there was only one that really mattered." Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been pointed to the sleeping Maita.
Alfredo-Who-Was could find nothing to say.
"Well done, good and faithful Alfredo. You've lived your life the way you should have lived it. Now come, you have a few moments to say goodbye." | I wasn't afraid—I never was—until they put the rope around my neck.
I guess when a man is about to die, his spirit braces itself. Their mind slows down and all of your emotions sort of swirl, not quite knowin' what to do with themselves. So I stood there, sweating more than I would like to admit, as my spirit was clawing around trying to get out.
And then it did.
I saw it leave my body like a snake sheds it's skin. It whirled around in a cloud of luminescent blue until resting in front of me as a person. I looked around me to see if anyone else was seein' what I was seein', but they was all standing around frozen.
The fog had finally come to a rest, and it was me! it had my nose and everything, although less broken...
"Dammit, Joel!" I flinched as it suddenly came alive and yelled into my face.
"Wha—but—" I stammered, tryin' to make sense of the situation.
"You had to go and get yourself lynched huh? Just had to kill the guy..."
"Are you...me?"
"Yes. Well, no. I'm the *you* you should've been."
"I should've been?"
"Yes, should've been, but didn't become."
"Well..." I just stood there wide-eyed and silent. I guess that's how most men are at the gallows, but I suppose meetin' myself wasn't quite what I had expected.
"Well I guess I could've done things a bit differently..."
"Of course you could've. But that doesn't matter now."
I looked down at the ground and thought about it. I guess my life sort of, well, flashed before my eyes.
Dropping out of school was probably my worst mistake. But my parents sure didn't help. When I got Mary pregnant, that wasn't good. I got a job though. One that kept me busy too. But I lost it soon enough, never held a job for more'n a couple years after that.
I didn't mean to kill him. He was just in the way, and the boys told me to deal with him. I guess I just punched him too hard. Maybe it was meant to happen. Maybe it's better that I died.
"Yeah, doesn't matter anyways," I said.
"Damn..." My spirit was staring off into nowhere now. "Coulda really been somethin'."
"'scuse me?"
"A few more years and you would have found her. You were going to come around, ya know. We can sense things like that, spirits."
"Wait...find who?"
"Who do you think? Your daughter. She's been lookin' for you. She'll find you now, a bit late though."
I was wide-eyed again. She was looking for me? No one was ever lookin' for me...
Suddenly I could hear the people moving around me again. My spirit just stood in front of me without a word. I heard them pull the lever and I my stomach lurched as I fell, but that was it. Didn't feel nothin'—like fallin' asleep, really.
All I could think of was my daughter, probably more beautiful than her mom even. Out there looking for me...isn't that somethin'?
|
I am actually stealing this from an old askreddit thread where this was an answer to something like 'what would you wish upon your worst enemy'. I liked the concept, but didn't find any such prompt in this sub's history. I love reading y'all, so here goes. | [WP] On the day of their death, every human gets to have a vision of meeting the man they could have become. | My breath came to be in short bursts; machine-gun fire, staccato, whatever. It was dark in my hospital room, and my roommate was sleeping peacefully. I tried not to struggle too much, or cough too loudly- I was ready to die. The chemotherapy had only been prolonging the inevitable- the sooner I bit the big one, the better. My daughter was here with her family in a hotel, but I didn't want them to be here. It had been an agonizing week. The sooner they could cry their eyes out, hold a nice funeral, sing some songs, the sooner everyone could go back to their normal lives. My Evangeline had already been dead for 16 years- what the fuck did I have to live for, anyway? Green Forest Retirement Home? Please.
A light switch flicked on in the hallway. *Fuck*, I thought to myself, and immediately tried to start dying at quarter-volume. The doorknob turned. I gritted my teeth and prepared for the intubation and the hullaballoo. *Sorry, Jeff,* I thought, for my roommate. *You won't be getting much sleep tonight.*
In walked me.
Now, I knew it was me- I was wearing the same shit-eating grin that my parents, teachers, girlfriends, and wife had always teased me about. I was wearing my favorite cap, and my favorite shirt that I left in Florence in 1987, and a nice pair of New Balances that were last made when Judas Priest was still a cool band.
"Hey, sport," he said, and sat down on the end of my bed.
I said nothing; dying really took it out of you. I desperately wanted to say something clever, but my lungs were filling with fluid. *Fuck,* I thought again.
I looked at myself- and then I *really* looked at myself. I was about 30. I had huge biceps, the kind I was trying to get in high school when I lifted all those weights. Full head of hair, my teeth were whiter, and I had had surgery to get rid of my mole.
"Let me tell you what you could have been," started this perfect vision of me, but I wasn't having it. I hacked up a tremendous amount of blood and took a rattling breath.
"Listen here, you sack of shit," I coughed out, and felt my left lung collapse. "I know what you're gonna say, and I ain't having it." I lost vision in my left eye. At the end of the bed, pseudo-me looked rather bemused. "You're gonna tell me that I should have stopped drinking and taken that oil job, aren't you? I would have gotten rich and muscly and had a hotter wife, right?" I couldn't feel my legs. The end was near. "You could have been great-" pseudo-me said, and I angrily interrupted him again, this time with a lot of vomit, and quite a bit more blood. "As far as I'm concerned," I groaned, "whatever I could have become, it would have been a person that would have visited himself on his own deathbed to tell him how great he would have been. Well, fuck you!" Now I was completely blind. I think I was also having a stroke, because my speech became rather slurred.
"I had a lloooonngg lliffe, and it wash rrreeallly greeat." I was quite ready for death, but psuedo-me was stubborn, too, and I heard him lean in. " You could have been powerful. You could have held millions of people's lives in your hand..."
"Oh, give it a fucking rest," I said, and died. | I wasn't afraid—I never was—until they put the rope around my neck.
I guess when a man is about to die, his spirit braces itself. Their mind slows down and all of your emotions sort of swirl, not quite knowin' what to do with themselves. So I stood there, sweating more than I would like to admit, as my spirit was clawing around trying to get out.
And then it did.
I saw it leave my body like a snake sheds it's skin. It whirled around in a cloud of luminescent blue until resting in front of me as a person. I looked around me to see if anyone else was seein' what I was seein', but they was all standing around frozen.
The fog had finally come to a rest, and it was me! it had my nose and everything, although less broken...
"Dammit, Joel!" I flinched as it suddenly came alive and yelled into my face.
"Wha—but—" I stammered, tryin' to make sense of the situation.
"You had to go and get yourself lynched huh? Just had to kill the guy..."
"Are you...me?"
"Yes. Well, no. I'm the *you* you should've been."
"I should've been?"
"Yes, should've been, but didn't become."
"Well..." I just stood there wide-eyed and silent. I guess that's how most men are at the gallows, but I suppose meetin' myself wasn't quite what I had expected.
"Well I guess I could've done things a bit differently..."
"Of course you could've. But that doesn't matter now."
I looked down at the ground and thought about it. I guess my life sort of, well, flashed before my eyes.
Dropping out of school was probably my worst mistake. But my parents sure didn't help. When I got Mary pregnant, that wasn't good. I got a job though. One that kept me busy too. But I lost it soon enough, never held a job for more'n a couple years after that.
I didn't mean to kill him. He was just in the way, and the boys told me to deal with him. I guess I just punched him too hard. Maybe it was meant to happen. Maybe it's better that I died.
"Yeah, doesn't matter anyways," I said.
"Damn..." My spirit was staring off into nowhere now. "Coulda really been somethin'."
"'scuse me?"
"A few more years and you would have found her. You were going to come around, ya know. We can sense things like that, spirits."
"Wait...find who?"
"Who do you think? Your daughter. She's been lookin' for you. She'll find you now, a bit late though."
I was wide-eyed again. She was looking for me? No one was ever lookin' for me...
Suddenly I could hear the people moving around me again. My spirit just stood in front of me without a word. I heard them pull the lever and I my stomach lurched as I fell, but that was it. Didn't feel nothin'—like fallin' asleep, really.
All I could think of was my daughter, probably more beautiful than her mom even. Out there looking for me...isn't that somethin'?
|
[WP] A visual story. One that has none or limited dialogue. Anything that is or could be potentially beautiful. | As I start fastening the wings to my arms, my head begins to spin, and the clouds of doubt milk over my eyes. The wings’ frame is sleek stained wood, with the smooth contours and light veneer of a true master’s work. The noiseless hinges, all oiled joints and burnished bronze, are so unlike the creaking knees and cracking elbows of their maker, popping with every step he takes. The most remarkable part, however, is the feathers.
Day and night he would lie in wait, stooped over intricate traps, sacrificing his meals to lure and ensnare the nearby gulls, and cast their plumage in hot wax. It took several months of this deliberate trapping and painstaking construction until the first pair had been completed, and weeks again for the second to achieve his critical approval. His pair is mottled and grey, with feathers of onyx and charcoal, dirty and unbefitting, like an irreparable blemish on a great artist’s drawing, marring its glorious perfection.
But mine is different. For mine he took greater care, choosing only the purest whites and glistening golds, assuring that I would look the very angel of deliverance he sees me to be. Having never seen the sun, my body is polished Parian marble, the wings brilliant gilded alabaster. Indeed, these must be the very wings that adorned Nike as she flew above the great Olympian wargrounds, playing her clarion of triumph for the victorious gods and heroes.
And yet uncertainty persists, for ingenious as he may be, my father must know men were not meant to soar. I envision myself approaching the precipice of the alcove where we’ve been imprisoned, my slender body afire with anticipation. I take three steps back, and with my arms outstretched I sprint toward the edge. As one leg crosses over the threshold between the infinite heavens and the bone-splitting stones below, my naked foot feels the rough lip of the crag, and my sole caresses the ground one last time as I leap, ascending higher and higher. Then, at the very apex of my elated elevation, I spread my wings, embracing the air and the sea breeze, and plummet, my entire being devoured by the jagged teeth of the ravenous sea, wake foaming white, gold, and red.
As the thought crosses my mind, my stomach starts to coil, writhing tense and serpentine through the cavities of my body and tingling through to my extremities. I have no death wish. I know what fate awaits me should I fail to take flight at my departure. Though there may be glory and remembrance to be found, I do not desire to be remembered as the tragic hero, the boy who had the temerity to tempt the ever willing Fates, and dropped from the sky like a stone unwanted, forever relegated to the world of parable as an example of the follies of hubris.
And yet, is it better to live in the misery of imprisonment, taunted by the sight of rain and the braying of sea lions? On nights when the wind blows right, I can reach out and just barely feel the drops caress my fingertips, longing to envelop me in their soft, glistening sheen. I am resolute. I must escape. I must overcome this serpent, this coiling hydra making mockery of my mettle.
The mind is an awesome foe. Where one fear is vanquished, two more doubts surface. But my father is Daedalus, the greatest mind ever to live, and I am his son. I must laugh at any thought that dares to doubt his brilliance. The reverence I hold for my father’s keen mind and tireless determination ignites a fierce flame of pride, which burns the stumps of slain doubt. I reject the hydra. I must escape this existence.
I peer over the the precipice at the crashing waves. I take three steps back, admiring the craft of my father. I take one look back at the squalor of our den, send a prayer to the gods, and with all my resolve, I dash to the verge.
And jump. | A ray of warm light lands on Steve's face. Another sunny day. Steve instinctively turns away from the sunshine and he is comfortable again. Just as he settles in his new posture, a blaring noise screams 5 inches away from his head. Jolted by this sudden noise, he slams his hand on the ever annoying alarm clock to get 5 more minutes in bed.
A nudge in the back was enough to keep Steve from drifting off again. When he didn’t budge, another nudge came, only more forceful. The nudges kept on coming, and at the end, Steve had enough and opened his eyes. His fingers reached across the bed to turn off the “Nudger” of the MORNINGRISE3000. He is already regretting his purchase of this machine, supposedly a substitute for those who are single and in need of a morning push.
The blinds are lifted with the push of another button on the MORNINGRISE3000 console. Not for the first time, the blinding yellow sun greets Steve with a harsh stare. From the 13th floor of his apartment complex, everything looks beautiful. The palm trees are moving in the wind, the waves are hitting the shore rhythmically, and the sands on the beach are inviting him to join them.
With another touch on the console, the coffee maker prepares his coffee and breakfast. Bacon and scrambled eggs are his favourite. Steve drags himself from the window and decided he should get himself ready for work. As he walks out the door, the bedroom darkens. The sun no longer hangs in the sky, and the beach with lapping waves ceased to exist.
Steve could only hear the static of dust particles ramming into the residential complex magnetic shield, and the echoes of the wind are already playing in his mind. His routine shower was particularly cold this morning, and his only thought was that beach he had seen a million times out that window. His coffee was tasteless, as usual. A drink once meant to be an enjoyment is now merely a brain enhancing chemical mixed to look like the golden brown liquid that men once loved.
Without missing a beat in his routine, the closet opened with his shirt of the day just as he finished his last sip. Quickly slipping into his gear, he walked onto the door mat and the computer scanned his suit to ensure all seals are tight. In a few seconds, the screen read OK and a green light lit up beside it. Steve pressed AIRLOCK on the touchscreen and a tube instantly encased him and sent him down. On his way down, Steve look a deep breath of compressed air, and waited for the tube to unseal.
| |
[FF] Write a story about a person late for work as quickly as you can. | Ah finally I writing Prompt i can sink my teeth into.
He awoke to find the sun shining in his window which was an unusual occurrence. You see, his day starts at
Edit: Sorry guys late for the 3 am shift, I'll finish it later. | He rushed for the door. He was ten minutes late and the reality was he needed even more time. Finally, he was at work, but unfortunately what had made him late caused him to make another detour before he could clock in. The bathroom door swung open, but not in time, and the man realized that he should have probably just called in sick instead, as he'd need to go home for a change of pants now. | |
[WP] A guy approaches two women at a coffee shop, one is completely disgusted by him while the other falls in love at first sight. Describe each of the women's view of him. | As the man walked into the shop, the two women sitting at the tables though very different things.
**Wow... he's gorgeous!**
**Oh god, what is this? If I got a penny for every single time I see a guy with all face and no brains...**
He bit his lower lip as he pondered over the menu.
**He's biting his lip! That's so cute!**
**Seriously? He might as well go for the Blue Steel while he's at it.**
"An espresso, please," the man said in an almost stereotypical London accent.
**Oh my god! He's British? That's SO dreamy!**
**Uhh! That's the fakest English accent I've ever heard!**
He sat down at a table and started doodling on his napkin.
**He's an artist too, that's so cool!**
**Any moment now, he's gonna bust out the hipster glasses.**
Then, a women entered the cafe. The two young ladies didn't notice her until she started making out passionately with the man, with her back towards them.
**What a tramp!**
**God's sake! They're like a pair of dogs in heat.**
Eventually the couple came to a stop, the women rose and headed towards the washroom. As our two young ladies finally saw whom the women really was, their thoughts aligned and both of their faces twisted in disgust.
"MOM?!" | “Oh my God, Beth, just look at that guy. OH. EM. GEE.”
“What? What guy? Allie? Allie!”
“What? Oh, what guy. Right. Okay, but don’t look now. To your left, behind you. I mean, behind the man with the green wig and right next to that woman with nipple piercings.”
“How—the hell did you see the nipple piercings?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just. Look. Oh. My. God.”
“If you talk like that one more time, I swear to God I’ll f—“
“Shut up and look!”
“Ugh, okay. Okay. Which one.”
“I said don’t look now!”
“Fine, fine, fine, fine. Just—I know! Put on your sunglasses so I can see the reflection. No, the other pair. My pair. The round ones. Yeah. Alright. Put them on.”
“But they look horrible on me!”
“Allie.”
“Okay, fine.”
“Now they won’t see you stare. So, which guy?... The one with the red sweater and the green hair and the ripped jeans who just got a mocha and whose name is ‘Alecsandre’? No, wait, I’m pretty sure it’s actually ‘Alexander’.”
“No, the other one. The cute guy with the shirt and the pants.”
“They’re all wearing shirts and pants.”
“Oh, my God, he’s coming here. Beth. Quick. Did these stupid glasses wipe the ugly on my face? Is my lipstick okay? Are my bangs straight?”
“Oh, so it’s... this guy with the orange button-up and the black blazer and the—...”
“...”
“...”
“My number? 554-332-1942.”
“And mine’s 443-424-581... 3.”
“...”
“Bye!”
“Bye.”
“...”
“Don’t sigh like that. Did you seriously fall in love with that guy? That’s the third one this week. Did you even look at his teeth? Yellow! And the shape of his face doesn’t go with those glasses, they were touching his goddamn cheekbones. And his breath. Yuck. He definitely shouldn't be drinking that much sugar if his teeth are going to rot anyway.”
“He’s so... dreamy...”
“Yeah, whatever. Oh, look, he left his stupid bussiness card here. There goes his number! 55...”
“At least he didn’t give me a fake number, like you. Give me that. Ha! No, you can’t have it back. It’s mine now. He’s so dreamy... Did you see his shoes? So. Clean. And his beard was perfect... I just wanted to kiss his cheek, like hell, woman. And his hands... I think I know what we’ll name out first child in ten years. Hey, I wonder what’s written here...”
“Yeah, like you don’t go straight for the bedroom stage on a first-date already. Give that thing here. I want to know, too!”
“...”
“Hmm. ‘Jack Addams. Psychiatrist. Offers therapy for DID/MPD.’”
“...Crap. He’s coming back and he’s not alone.”
“I think we talked aloud again.”
____
Yeah, it doesn't make much sense, and it's all dialogue, but it's the first think I thought of (combined with the second).
| |
[WP] A guy approaches two women at a coffee shop, one is completely disgusted by him while the other falls in love at first sight. Describe each of the women's view of him. | After parking his aggressively loud corvette, Blaine struts into the coffee shop. He walks with purpose and confidence. Blaine notices two women looking at his car. Looking at him. Smiling at each other. Blaine adjusts his expensive tie and looks slowly at his Rolex. Too late to take the ring off. He picks up a nonfat latte and strolls to the women. They are obviously smitten - the car, the tie, the Rolex. Blaine asks coolly if either other nice ladies would like to take a ride. Girl on the left giggles, flips her hair and smiles. Girl on the right is staring at his left hand. She smirks and turns away. | This guy came up to me, smirking at me like he knew me, gross. He was holding a red cupcake and a coffee. He started talking to me about what I'd eaten. I said it was a muffin and a cup of tea. He asked if I hadn't had breakfast. What a rude thing to say. Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean that I can't eat. Then he started talking about how he was going to a party later on and he asked me if I wanted to go. I told him I was busy and had to work the next day but he insisted. He told me it couldn't be that important. As if my job is less important than his? He doesn't know what I do. I don't even get why he bothered me. Can't you sit at a coffee shop alone? Do I have to be with someone?
 
I met this guy today. He came up to me, smiling and asking my name. He asked me what I ate and I told him I ate pretty much and that he shouldn't make me feel more guilty than I already am. He laughed and told me he'd finish his own cupcake to make me feel better. He invited me to party and I told I'm I was busy and had to work the next day. He told me partying was more important than work, I agreed with him. I told him I'd consider going. He seemed really interested in me, I guess he saw that I sat by myself and thought I needed company. He was actually pretty cute and charming. | |
[WP] A guy approaches two women at a coffee shop, one is completely disgusted by him while the other falls in love at first sight. Describe each of the women's view of him. | As the man walked into the shop, the two women sitting at the tables though very different things.
**Wow... he's gorgeous!**
**Oh god, what is this? If I got a penny for every single time I see a guy with all face and no brains...**
He bit his lower lip as he pondered over the menu.
**He's biting his lip! That's so cute!**
**Seriously? He might as well go for the Blue Steel while he's at it.**
"An espresso, please," the man said in an almost stereotypical London accent.
**Oh my god! He's British? That's SO dreamy!**
**Uhh! That's the fakest English accent I've ever heard!**
He sat down at a table and started doodling on his napkin.
**He's an artist too, that's so cool!**
**Any moment now, he's gonna bust out the hipster glasses.**
Then, a women entered the cafe. The two young ladies didn't notice her until she started making out passionately with the man, with her back towards them.
**What a tramp!**
**God's sake! They're like a pair of dogs in heat.**
Eventually the couple came to a stop, the women rose and headed towards the washroom. As our two young ladies finally saw whom the women really was, their thoughts aligned and both of their faces twisted in disgust.
"MOM?!" | This guy came up to me, smirking at me like he knew me, gross. He was holding a red cupcake and a coffee. He started talking to me about what I'd eaten. I said it was a muffin and a cup of tea. He asked if I hadn't had breakfast. What a rude thing to say. Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean that I can't eat. Then he started talking about how he was going to a party later on and he asked me if I wanted to go. I told him I was busy and had to work the next day but he insisted. He told me it couldn't be that important. As if my job is less important than his? He doesn't know what I do. I don't even get why he bothered me. Can't you sit at a coffee shop alone? Do I have to be with someone?
 
I met this guy today. He came up to me, smiling and asking my name. He asked me what I ate and I told him I ate pretty much and that he shouldn't make me feel more guilty than I already am. He laughed and told me he'd finish his own cupcake to make me feel better. He invited me to party and I told I'm I was busy and had to work the next day. He told me partying was more important than work, I agreed with him. I told him I'd consider going. He seemed really interested in me, I guess he saw that I sat by myself and thought I needed company. He was actually pretty cute and charming. | |
[WP] A guy approaches two women at a coffee shop, one is completely disgusted by him while the other falls in love at first sight. Describe each of the women's view of him. | He walks in with a denim vest covered in buttons. His hair is messy, his eyes lively and active. He smiles at the two women sitting at the closest table.
'Ugh. This guy is a mess. A complete mess. Oh, shocker, he wants to use one of our phones to make a call. Really? That's his excuse, a flat tire and his dog waiting in the car? Like any girl is stupid enough to fall for that line. Wait, is she seriously handing this guy her phone? What's wrong with her?'
'Look at that smile. He has amazing dimples. I like the vest too, he looks like a fun guy. Oh, his poor dog! So he's cute and relaxed and he cares about his pup? Maybe I can get him to put his number in when he makes his call... just so I can check up on his pooch of course. Why is she sneering like that? She's not usually so unfriendly. What is wrong with her?' | This guy came up to me, smirking at me like he knew me, gross. He was holding a red cupcake and a coffee. He started talking to me about what I'd eaten. I said it was a muffin and a cup of tea. He asked if I hadn't had breakfast. What a rude thing to say. Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean that I can't eat. Then he started talking about how he was going to a party later on and he asked me if I wanted to go. I told him I was busy and had to work the next day but he insisted. He told me it couldn't be that important. As if my job is less important than his? He doesn't know what I do. I don't even get why he bothered me. Can't you sit at a coffee shop alone? Do I have to be with someone?
 
I met this guy today. He came up to me, smiling and asking my name. He asked me what I ate and I told him I ate pretty much and that he shouldn't make me feel more guilty than I already am. He laughed and told me he'd finish his own cupcake to make me feel better. He invited me to party and I told I'm I was busy and had to work the next day. He told me partying was more important than work, I agreed with him. I told him I'd consider going. He seemed really interested in me, I guess he saw that I sat by myself and thought I needed company. He was actually pretty cute and charming. | |
[WP] A guy approaches two women at a coffee shop, one is completely disgusted by him while the other falls in love at first sight. Describe each of the women's view of him. | As the man walked into the shop, the two women sitting at the tables though very different things.
**Wow... he's gorgeous!**
**Oh god, what is this? If I got a penny for every single time I see a guy with all face and no brains...**
He bit his lower lip as he pondered over the menu.
**He's biting his lip! That's so cute!**
**Seriously? He might as well go for the Blue Steel while he's at it.**
"An espresso, please," the man said in an almost stereotypical London accent.
**Oh my god! He's British? That's SO dreamy!**
**Uhh! That's the fakest English accent I've ever heard!**
He sat down at a table and started doodling on his napkin.
**He's an artist too, that's so cool!**
**Any moment now, he's gonna bust out the hipster glasses.**
Then, a women entered the cafe. The two young ladies didn't notice her until she started making out passionately with the man, with her back towards them.
**What a tramp!**
**God's sake! They're like a pair of dogs in heat.**
Eventually the couple came to a stop, the women rose and headed towards the washroom. As our two young ladies finally saw whom the women really was, their thoughts aligned and both of their faces twisted in disgust.
"MOM?!" | After parking his aggressively loud corvette, Blaine struts into the coffee shop. He walks with purpose and confidence. Blaine notices two women looking at his car. Looking at him. Smiling at each other. Blaine adjusts his expensive tie and looks slowly at his Rolex. Too late to take the ring off. He picks up a nonfat latte and strolls to the women. They are obviously smitten - the car, the tie, the Rolex. Blaine asks coolly if either other nice ladies would like to take a ride. Girl on the left giggles, flips her hair and smiles. Girl on the right is staring at his left hand. She smirks and turns away. | |
[WP] God is on life support powered by human prayers. The last religious man on Earth is on his deathbed. | There is a whisper. It is beyond hearing, greater than any sound in the universe. It is the voice of god. It is just a whisper, but it carries a smile, and a word.
"Finally." | *I try to inhale, as the machine beeps and clicks rhythmically, forcing my lungs to expand and collapse at its will. I vaguely smile at the irony, but I am too weak to show teeth. Not that there was anyone here. I was glad for that. I needed some silence, some peace. Perhaps with me gone, humanity might finally have some. I was sorry for that; for the wars, the bigotry, the prejudice, and the pain. I had good intentions, I think we all did. But you could never control truly control another's thoughts. We were too naive to realise that in the beginning.*
*I sigh and close my eyes again. Letting the darkness envelope me. My time had come. Far too late, I thought. I was too old, a long time ago. The breaths come easier now. I begin to see the tape rewind and play from the beginning. I smile as I look at the world so young and green; at humanity's nakedness and wide-eyed innocence. How wonderful had life begun. The tape speeds forward and the pain begins. The cries of anger and war, of hurt and grief. The begging, the pleading and then the prayers. The prayers hurt the most. Each one pierced the skin and I watched the blood weep. I had failed so many of them. Helped so little. Had never quite done enough. But even gods had their mistresses. Mine was Time.*
*The decades sped on. I watched civilisations rise and crumble and rise again. I watched history repeat itself in different clothing. I watched different faces beg, plead and pray. Still the blood trickled down. Now it was salty. "I'm sorry." I whispered. Perhaps I could have done more. Perhaps if I had a chance to start over, I would have done things differently. But my rules did not permit for reincarnation. A memory of Buddha try hair plugs for the fiftieth time, flew by. Perhaps that was for the best.*
*I feel my tape catch up with reality. It was time to go. I was far beyond ready. I counted the seconds down.*
*10*
*9*
*8*
*7*
Hello? *I grit my teeth.*
*6*
*5*
God? Are you there? Please. I know you’re there.
*4*
Help me.
*…*
Please my Lord. In the old texts, they used to call you Saviour. Please. God. Will you help me? Will you save me from this terrible death? I just want to see my family. They’re all so young. Maddy has a child on the way, that I won’t… Please. God. Everyone thinks I’m crazy, but I don’t care. If you’re there, and if you can save me, then I don’t care if the whole world thinks I’m crazy. Pleeease God!
*The man was now screeching.*
*I looked at him pityingly. I knew what he wanted, but knew that he would regret it. Death would have been so much more pleasant. I’m told he’s a nice guy. Still. Perhaps, this would be my last act. Something to be remembered by. I was dying and this man wanted life. He wanted more than life, he wanted to live. Forever. Man was gluttonous like that. I sigh. I lift my finger and the man disappears.*
Noooo!
*Hello.*
*What? Who are you?*
*Someone. No one. Take care of this place will you?*
*3*
*2*
*1*
*Hello Death, old friend.*
| |
[WP] An asteroid is predicted to collide with the Earth, so a man and woman sit down for their final meal together. | "We haven't much time left." He said as he passes her the grilled asparagus. She takes her portion, sips her wine, looks at her watch, and quietly breathes,"I love-" Silence. Forever. | He gazed into her eyes with remorse for what could have been, then finally spoke with a smile.
"I'm glad you're a woman of your word."
She giggled and brushed her hair away from her face before answering him.
"Well, to be fair, I never thought the end of the world would happen in our lifetime"
He took a sip of his drink and giggled with her, then said
"Right well, you still said it: 'I'll have dinner with you during the Apocalypse...call me then.' " He said with a smirk
"It's only fair, I guess...you held up your end by not calling me until the Apocalypse." she said with a smile that was all too familiar to him.
Everything about her reminded him of the better parts of his life. They were rebels together. They had left home at 18 and went to Vegas to get married and get rich together. As a married couple they spent his entire college fund on a wedding and 3 day honeymoon on the strip in Vegas, and the down payment on a 3 year old van. They were, at the time, hopelessly in love. The way she circled her finger around the rim of her pint glass brought him back to the early mornings when they would lay together in the aftermath of an all day party, she would sit up in bed and run her finger around the rim of an empty pint glass on her nightstand. They would talk endlessly for hours until the cold wet air of the dawn turned into the dry warm air of the afternoon where they would finally sleep off their drugs and let their bodies recover from the endless love making.
"You still stare...that's funny" She said before lifting her drink and sipping it.
"I was just thinking about the old days...we had some good times didn't we?" he answered as he rested his chin on his fist with a smirk that induced the same deja vu in herself that her ex-husband had just experienced from her finger circling.
"All good things end." She said softly as she lifted a peice of sushi with her chopsticks and ate it.
"Always with the sushi..." his smile gave away his feelings for her as he spoke.
"Always with the tacos." She retorted with a smile that gave away her remorse for not having this dinner this sooner.
He grinned and nodded as he chewed his tacos. They both ate their favortie foods in silence as they simultaneously thought about their better days and how much fun they had together. Before meeting they had agreed not to talk about what they had done with their lives since their divorce 10 years ago. She knew that he had gotten re married to an old flame that he had cheated on her with a few times, she also knew that his 2nd wife had died giving birth to their child, who later died from birth complications. She didn't want him to have to think about that before the end of the world. It wasn't fair. Just like it wouldn't have been fair for him to make her think about how the man she had cheated on him with ended up having two seperate families in two different states. None of it mattered to them now. It was their past, and since they had no future, all they needed was the moment.
They finshed their meals together in total silence. It wasn't uncomfortable silence anymore, it was just a stillness that they welcomed with open arms. He finshed his drink and pulled out a cigar.
"Do you mind?"
"It's cute of you to ask. I couldn't deny you a last smoke...enjoy yourself, Eddie."
"Much obliged." he said as he struck a match and lit his cigar. The smell induced more deja vu for her...the smoke danced in the air and mixed with the musk of his old cologne, ten years and he was still a slave to his old habits. She admired that, but she wasn't sure why. Then she broke the news.
"I brought us a surprise." She said with an evil grin that had gotten them both into trouble more times than they could count. He smiled with his cigar between his teeth and pulled it out to exhale.
"Well don't keep me in suspense, toots...watcha got?" he was becoming more comfortable with her now, falling into old pet names. She let the name calling slide, knowing that there was no point in trying to chastise his sexism with the end of the world a few hours away. She pulled a small plastic baggie containing a handful of mushrooms out of her purse. He looked at the mushrooms and smiled.
"Just like old times huh?"
"Just like old times." She said with her warm smile
They chopped up the mushrooms together and prepared their very own magic milkshakes with some oreo flavored ice cream. They shared a drink as they waited for the effects to kick in. She sipped her favorite merlot and looked longingly into his eyes as he sipped his whiskey neat. They drank in perfect silence before the effects began to kick in. He broke the silence by standing up and preparing a record to play. She observed him quietly and waited in anticipation to see what music he was going to play. He dropped the needle onto the dusty old record player and their song began to slowly play: "I'm your man" By Leonard Cohen. He offered his hand to help her from her seat. She took his hand, stood up and they slwoly danced together for the final time as the world ended.
| |
[WP] The world is bathed in constant light to keep away the shadows. No one goes into the darkness or touches shadows. No one remembers why but they all fear them. | Waiting for lunch is always frustrating, especially when you have a perfect view of others eating. I closed my eyes, tryinng to ignore them. Of course it was a futile attempt. Even if I couldn't see them, I could hear them. They were talking about the lights. Those lights were all people ever talked about nowadays. The power station was attacked a few days ago, causing the main lights to go out. The secondary lights remained, but that was enough to cause some people to have concerns. The power station had been repaired, without ant problems. It wasn't actually that big of a problem.
"I know it's going to happen," someone to my right says in a hushed tone. "They say that The Group will do it again and this time none if the lights are safe." The Group. I laughed. What an unimaginative name. Anyway, the secondary lights were safe. The light system had been running for hundreds of years, without a single blackout. A bulb or two had blown, leaving small areas of darkness, but nothing to be concerned about. There was no way everything would just stop.
The person's friend shakes his head. "Nah, the lights are safe. Plus, we have no idea what's really out there. I could be completely empty." He had a point. No one had even stepped foot into the darkness for decades. The only problem is that it's the darkness. Who in their right mind would step into it?
Their conversation was interrupted by a low rumble. I looked across the city. The lights flickered and turned off. The secondary lights were fine, so I didn't move. I'd just closed my eyes again, when a woman screamed. I opened them again only to be met with darkness. The city was in panic.
I took several deep breaths. I couldn't allow myself to freak out. I knew what I had to do. I hopped down from my hiding spot above the light fixture. These people had forgotten why they feared the darkness. They'd forgotten why their ancestors built those lights. It was my job to remind them. I licked my lips. Lunch was finally served. | "For the last time, Mam, Sun lamps don't just 'Go out'. Either you manually shut them down or they stay on." This was the third time this lady said that. "Listen to me. Do I sound like I'm joking? I can't see any light coming from under the doorway anymore." After a pause and a heavy sigh, the woman on the other end of the phone line spoke again. "Well then, I guess if you are so convinced, you can go open the door and check for yourself." *Click*. Conversation over. Jen stared straight down the hallway at the oak door to the guest room. She had only been in there a couple of times since her dad passed away after spending his last few weeks with her. Now she lived alone, and she doubted anyone would come help her open a door. "It's just a door, I've opened plenty of those. Besides, what are the chances the room was actually dark? Like that operator said, sun lamps don't go out." The apprehension built as she gazed at the wood-grain. "You can do this, Jen." She spoke aloud this time. "It's just a door." Jen stood from her perch on the kitchen chair. With great caution, she approached the mouth of the hall. Her breathing heavy and her footsteps light, she reluctantly began to step. One by one, ever nearing the door. As she passed her own room, the last comfort of NTI Green helio-custom light diminished. Only the door remained. Stopping just short, she reassured herself once more. "There is no issue in the room, Something must have fallen in front of the door. Perhaps the old curtains blew from the window and are heaped along the crack." After her careful approach, the jolt she made for the knob shocked even herself. The door flew inward and banged against the wall. What Jen saw next was an absolute shock. Nothing. She saw nothing. This was what the schoolbooks had meant by darkness. It was truly like having her eyes shut. Only darker. She couldn't see past the outer threshold of the room. Jen stood, slack-jawed and dumbstruck, for more than a minute. More than two. As her eyes groped the darkness, they still couldn't find anything discernible to latch onto. Somehow, she didn't mind. Against all of her years of schooling, natural instincts, and better judgment, Jen entered the blackness. Slowly now, one step. Two. Nothing happened. She squinted toward the far wall. Still couldn't make out anything. Suddenly, the feelings of dread long instilled by her years of learning were gone. She let the dark consume her, stepping deeper into it's hold. She even reached back and shut the door. This was amazing. No green, no red, no white even. Just black. Could it be that all of the fears were unjustified? It seemed so. She closed her eyes and opened them again. It was still dark. What had she, had everyone been missing all of these years? As she stood alone in the black, she felt real. That's when she heard a whisper, "Welcome home, Jenny." | |
[WP] You nervously approach the beaches of Normandy on the D-Day Invasion. Before the landing craft hits the beach, you and your comrades are given a pep talk by platoon leader Zapp Brannigan. | The roiling sea sent crashing waves over the side of the landing craft, soaking the assembled soldiers, who huddled down, clutched their weapons, and offered whispered prayers to whatever gods might be listening. All except commander Zapp Brannigan, who stood proudly at the control point, resplendent in red and gold.
"Ahh," he said, taking a deep breath, "I love the smell of wet velour in the morning."
By his side, a gangly, green-skinned creature was clinging to the craft's side and vomiting noisily over it.
"Still no sign of land, Kif," said Brannigan, gazing into the tumultuous sea and ignoring his subordinate's travails.
"That's because... bleuuurgh... that's because you're facing the wrong way sir,' said Kif.
Brannigan turned around, the beaches of Normandy loomed in front of them, the rattle of machine gun fire already audible.
"We land in... urughghh... five minutes, sir."
"Well then, listen up men!" The soldiers looked at the strange figure assigned to command them. "When the D.O.O.P. sent me back to this primitive time period, to lead you men into battle wherever it is we are, against whoever it is we're fighting, I told them to go to hell. Why should I risk my life to protect a history I never learned? For the glory, and for the women, they said, so I agreed."
"Now, you may be asking yourselves, why should I face certain death at the bullets of deadly, deadly machine guns? And I say the same to you: For my glory, and to help me score with women. Think of my honour, standing victorious atop a pile of your corpses, looking at another pile of vanquished enemy corpses. Think of the women in the lands I liberate, grateful and hero-worshipping. Think of the enemy's women, cowed and eager to please. Think of your wives and girlfriends back home, stricken and grieving. Grief I shall soothe with cool jazz and a hot velour embrace."
"And finally, remember this: The enemy may have the terrain, the defence, the elevation, be dry, well-rested, well-fed and well-trained, but we have the Mark 4 Vaporising Laser, and they don't."
"We don't have that, sir," said Kif.
"We don't?"
"No, it hasn't been invented yet."
"Good God, they really are screwed," said Brannigan, "Well men, I wish you luck. I will be thinking of you after we deposit it you on the beach and turn this thing around."
"No sir," said Kif, "We can't turn around."
"What? So where are we supposed to go?"
"Onto the beach, sir. You're supposed to lead the men forward."
Brannigan looked at the assembled men before him, wet and anxious, but tough and determined and ready to fight. He grabbed Kif, tossed him overboard, and leapt in after. The soldiers crowded around the back of the landing craft to watch as their commander swam furiously back out to sea, attempting to use his subordinate as a floatation device. | An ear splitting scream tore through the air as an artillery shell landed next to the landing craft. A splash of green water sloshed over the boat's wall. Captain Zapp Brannigan cleared his throat again.
"Sorry recruits, it appears the krauts are intent on interrupting my suave, encouraging speech." he said.
The popping echo of gunfire was audible as Brannigan paused. As the ship dipped in the waves, the recruits could catch a glimpse of the great walls of artillery and bunkers that covered the horizon. Parachutes, planes, and the black clouds of exploded flak dappled the sky. Brannigan stood up and held his chin as he began to recollect his thoughts.
"Ah, yeeessss... It's all coming back to me now, recruits. You see, I like to think of myself as a father figure to some of my more pathetic men."
Brannigan pulled off his helmet as he spoke and adjusted his astonishingly clean blond hair. A bullet whizzed by and hit one of the recruits in the head. Brannigan paid no attention, and adjusted his glance intensely to.... nowhere in particular.
"And at times like these, I understand that most of you will likely hide behind the larger recruits, cowards that you are. To that I have to say.... *good thinking*! All that truly matters in the heat of battle is that you have a sure way out. That's why I've taken the liberty of equipping you all with half-filled magazines, so that my glorious silhouette will be most likely to emerge atop the vast stinking hill of my allies' bodies."
A loud metallic clang rang out as a bullet glanced off of the side of the boat. The recruits all began to glance at each other, some shook their bandoliers in disbelief.
"But most importantly, recruits!" Brannigan continued, "Is that you focus on the important things, like repopulating the human race when you get back home. Let's face it: none of you are nearly as suave or deadly on the battlefield as I; You'll all likely fall into the sensuous ladylike grasp of death's clammy fingers long before I've thrust my boot clean through Hitler's chest cavity. As such, there will be many lonely ladies back home in desperate need of a good long session of love-making. Personally, I intend to fulfill that need."
Brannigan turned to look over the landing ramp. A cloud of mist sprinkled over the front of the boat as it dipped into a wave.
"Ah yes, recruits. Almost there! Now I know many of you are intent on soiling yourselves like women, and I expected nothing less. But don't forget that as soon as that ramp lowers and you find yourselves confronted with the precipice of oblivion, someone out there like me needs a shield!"
The boat slammed to a halt as it hit sand, and the front ramp popped open. Three rounds snapped in and killed another recruit.
"Onward men! May you all carry me to sweet, sweet victory!"
---
EDIT: Some grammar. | |
[WP] You nervously approach the beaches of Normandy on the D-Day Invasion. Before the landing craft hits the beach, you and your comrades are given a pep talk by platoon leader Zapp Brannigan. | The landing craft dove again over a wave. The men clad in olive drab tumbled forward. The smell of gun powder, vomit, sea air and filthy young men mixed in the air. The private next to me had had more than he could handle and vomited oatmeal onto his boots. My stomach churned with fear and seasickness. I gagged but managed to keep it down. I looked towards the captain, clad in a too-short red tunic and golden helmet, and vomited between my feet.
Praise God, dressed like that he wouldn't last the day.
"Men" He cried, holding aloft a silver clipboard. "Today is the day! Duh-Day!"
His diminutive personal assistant groaned, he wore the same 'uniform' that Captain Brannigan wore, despite his protests.
"Quiet Kiff, I'm being inspiring! Men today, on this Duh-Day, I will lead some of the best men into battle, they are in the next landing craft over. You however have been assigned to fall onto the guns, knives and kraut smelling fists of the enemy, again and again until they either get tired or run out of amm-oh. You are inspiring to me! Brave men that you are I hope at least one of you gets through the day." The captain winked at a slender yet broad chested young Lt. with one eye.
"Oh Lord." He said.
"Men as you all know the best way to attack a heavily fortified beach is to circ-um-vent the fortifications. Which is exactly what the enemy would expect! I thought we'd surprise them by charging directly up the beach, they'll never see us coming!"
In that second puffs of smoke and fire spewed forth from the bluffs. A moment later we heard their distant thunder. Following that, shells screamed from the sky all around us. Throwing water into the air, soaking everyone on-board except, miraculously, the Captain. More fire and distant thunder, more shrill moaning, the next landing craft over was thrown in a dozen directions. The men it contained screaming, drowning or tumbling through the air.
"Oh" said the Captain uncertainly, "well then, gentlemen I wish you luck and all the good graces of your various gods."
He dove over the side of the craft dragging his personal assistant with him.
| An ear splitting scream tore through the air as an artillery shell landed next to the landing craft. A splash of green water sloshed over the boat's wall. Captain Zapp Brannigan cleared his throat again.
"Sorry recruits, it appears the krauts are intent on interrupting my suave, encouraging speech." he said.
The popping echo of gunfire was audible as Brannigan paused. As the ship dipped in the waves, the recruits could catch a glimpse of the great walls of artillery and bunkers that covered the horizon. Parachutes, planes, and the black clouds of exploded flak dappled the sky. Brannigan stood up and held his chin as he began to recollect his thoughts.
"Ah, yeeessss... It's all coming back to me now, recruits. You see, I like to think of myself as a father figure to some of my more pathetic men."
Brannigan pulled off his helmet as he spoke and adjusted his astonishingly clean blond hair. A bullet whizzed by and hit one of the recruits in the head. Brannigan paid no attention, and adjusted his glance intensely to.... nowhere in particular.
"And at times like these, I understand that most of you will likely hide behind the larger recruits, cowards that you are. To that I have to say.... *good thinking*! All that truly matters in the heat of battle is that you have a sure way out. That's why I've taken the liberty of equipping you all with half-filled magazines, so that my glorious silhouette will be most likely to emerge atop the vast stinking hill of my allies' bodies."
A loud metallic clang rang out as a bullet glanced off of the side of the boat. The recruits all began to glance at each other, some shook their bandoliers in disbelief.
"But most importantly, recruits!" Brannigan continued, "Is that you focus on the important things, like repopulating the human race when you get back home. Let's face it: none of you are nearly as suave or deadly on the battlefield as I; You'll all likely fall into the sensuous ladylike grasp of death's clammy fingers long before I've thrust my boot clean through Hitler's chest cavity. As such, there will be many lonely ladies back home in desperate need of a good long session of love-making. Personally, I intend to fulfill that need."
Brannigan turned to look over the landing ramp. A cloud of mist sprinkled over the front of the boat as it dipped into a wave.
"Ah yes, recruits. Almost there! Now I know many of you are intent on soiling yourselves like women, and I expected nothing less. But don't forget that as soon as that ramp lowers and you find yourselves confronted with the precipice of oblivion, someone out there like me needs a shield!"
The boat slammed to a halt as it hit sand, and the front ramp popped open. Three rounds snapped in and killed another recruit.
"Onward men! May you all carry me to sweet, sweet victory!"
---
EDIT: Some grammar. | |
[WP] You nervously approach the beaches of Normandy on the D-Day Invasion. Before the landing craft hits the beach, you and your comrades are given a pep talk by platoon leader Zapp Brannigan. | "Alright men, listen up. As you venture forth to fight this war of the worlds, remember one thing. Remember that while I sit in my Captain's Quarters drinking my cham-pagin, I'll be out there fighting with you. Not actually fighting of course, but fighting in my mind like some sort of headache with a gun."
Many of the men groaned.
"Now I know that many of you are going to die." He pointed at one of the smaller men. "You especially. But without your sacrifice we couldn't hope to make the enemy run out of bullets. There are only so many they can have you know. And once they reach that number that's when we strike. One strike and they're out, just like baseball."
The men began looking at each other nervously.
"I have thought through every aspect of this battle that could possibly take place. Knowing our enemy, the Scottish, as well as I do, I have come up several life saving tips for all of you."
"We're not fighting the Scottish!" Several of the men yelled out.
Zapp pulled out a set of bagpipes. "Well I guess we won't be needing these." He threw them overboard. "Damn. Over 20 minutes of practice wasted. No matter, I have a backup plan. How many of you have practiced dying heroically?"
No one said anything.
He smiled. "Uh huh, well no time to learn like 5 minutes from now." Zapp pointed at the smaller soldier again. "Probably 3 minutes for you. And remember, the ladies love a hero. They also love greeting cards and velour." He felt his uniform. "Mmmmm."
The boat approached the beach. "Okay men. Get out there and give those Scottish bastards Hell." | An ear splitting scream tore through the air as an artillery shell landed next to the landing craft. A splash of green water sloshed over the boat's wall. Captain Zapp Brannigan cleared his throat again.
"Sorry recruits, it appears the krauts are intent on interrupting my suave, encouraging speech." he said.
The popping echo of gunfire was audible as Brannigan paused. As the ship dipped in the waves, the recruits could catch a glimpse of the great walls of artillery and bunkers that covered the horizon. Parachutes, planes, and the black clouds of exploded flak dappled the sky. Brannigan stood up and held his chin as he began to recollect his thoughts.
"Ah, yeeessss... It's all coming back to me now, recruits. You see, I like to think of myself as a father figure to some of my more pathetic men."
Brannigan pulled off his helmet as he spoke and adjusted his astonishingly clean blond hair. A bullet whizzed by and hit one of the recruits in the head. Brannigan paid no attention, and adjusted his glance intensely to.... nowhere in particular.
"And at times like these, I understand that most of you will likely hide behind the larger recruits, cowards that you are. To that I have to say.... *good thinking*! All that truly matters in the heat of battle is that you have a sure way out. That's why I've taken the liberty of equipping you all with half-filled magazines, so that my glorious silhouette will be most likely to emerge atop the vast stinking hill of my allies' bodies."
A loud metallic clang rang out as a bullet glanced off of the side of the boat. The recruits all began to glance at each other, some shook their bandoliers in disbelief.
"But most importantly, recruits!" Brannigan continued, "Is that you focus on the important things, like repopulating the human race when you get back home. Let's face it: none of you are nearly as suave or deadly on the battlefield as I; You'll all likely fall into the sensuous ladylike grasp of death's clammy fingers long before I've thrust my boot clean through Hitler's chest cavity. As such, there will be many lonely ladies back home in desperate need of a good long session of love-making. Personally, I intend to fulfill that need."
Brannigan turned to look over the landing ramp. A cloud of mist sprinkled over the front of the boat as it dipped into a wave.
"Ah yes, recruits. Almost there! Now I know many of you are intent on soiling yourselves like women, and I expected nothing less. But don't forget that as soon as that ramp lowers and you find yourselves confronted with the precipice of oblivion, someone out there like me needs a shield!"
The boat slammed to a halt as it hit sand, and the front ramp popped open. Three rounds snapped in and killed another recruit.
"Onward men! May you all carry me to sweet, sweet victory!"
---
EDIT: Some grammar. | |
[WP] You nervously approach the beaches of Normandy on the D-Day Invasion. Before the landing craft hits the beach, you and your comrades are given a pep talk by platoon leader Zapp Brannigan. | The roiling sea sent crashing waves over the side of the landing craft, soaking the assembled soldiers, who huddled down, clutched their weapons, and offered whispered prayers to whatever gods might be listening. All except commander Zapp Brannigan, who stood proudly at the control point, resplendent in red and gold.
"Ahh," he said, taking a deep breath, "I love the smell of wet velour in the morning."
By his side, a gangly, green-skinned creature was clinging to the craft's side and vomiting noisily over it.
"Still no sign of land, Kif," said Brannigan, gazing into the tumultuous sea and ignoring his subordinate's travails.
"That's because... bleuuurgh... that's because you're facing the wrong way sir,' said Kif.
Brannigan turned around, the beaches of Normandy loomed in front of them, the rattle of machine gun fire already audible.
"We land in... urughghh... five minutes, sir."
"Well then, listen up men!" The soldiers looked at the strange figure assigned to command them. "When the D.O.O.P. sent me back to this primitive time period, to lead you men into battle wherever it is we are, against whoever it is we're fighting, I told them to go to hell. Why should I risk my life to protect a history I never learned? For the glory, and for the women, they said, so I agreed."
"Now, you may be asking yourselves, why should I face certain death at the bullets of deadly, deadly machine guns? And I say the same to you: For my glory, and to help me score with women. Think of my honour, standing victorious atop a pile of your corpses, looking at another pile of vanquished enemy corpses. Think of the women in the lands I liberate, grateful and hero-worshipping. Think of the enemy's women, cowed and eager to please. Think of your wives and girlfriends back home, stricken and grieving. Grief I shall soothe with cool jazz and a hot velour embrace."
"And finally, remember this: The enemy may have the terrain, the defence, the elevation, be dry, well-rested, well-fed and well-trained, but we have the Mark 4 Vaporising Laser, and they don't."
"We don't have that, sir," said Kif.
"We don't?"
"No, it hasn't been invented yet."
"Good God, they really are screwed," said Brannigan, "Well men, I wish you luck. I will be thinking of you after we deposit it you on the beach and turn this thing around."
"No sir," said Kif, "We can't turn around."
"What? So where are we supposed to go?"
"Onto the beach, sir. You're supposed to lead the men forward."
Brannigan looked at the assembled men before him, wet and anxious, but tough and determined and ready to fight. He grabbed Kif, tossed him overboard, and leapt in after. The soldiers crowded around the back of the landing craft to watch as their commander swam furiously back out to sea, attempting to use his subordinate as a floatation device. | Zapp walks out of the barracks with a full belly and sucking on a toothpick. "Man does that tuna hit the spot-" he suddenly stops and stares blankly at the audience of soldiers eagerly waiting for a speech before landing on Normandy. a short male with a huge head comes stumbling behind Zapp fully dressed for combat, but does not look capable of it. "Hey Kif" says Zapp to the small man. "yes sir" kif replies. Zapp leans over for a whisper. "What are these guys doing here?" Zapp asks secretly to kip. "Well sir, you see...we are going to land on Normandy anytime soon and these men sir... they need an inspirational speech to get their spirits up for when they...I mean WE enter the battlefield sir." Whispers kip. "Gotcha" says Zapp pointing at Kip with both hands like two guns while making a clicking sound. Zapp walks up to the audience and begins his speech. "MEN... We are about to step foot on hell itself, but unlike you all i have been through hell thousands of times. I cannot tell you how many times after a night of partying i found myself with an old lady in my bed not knowing who in the world she is... if you think that is easy just try telling her grandson, who is as old as you, who their new grandpa is. This won't be any different. The odds may be stacked upon us, but i guarantee a victory or my name isn't Zapp Brannigan." The boat lands, and the doors open. gun fire spewing everywhere. "let's go out there show those grandmas what we got." All the soldiers scream a "YEAH" and start running out of their boat. Kif begins running out with the rest of the soldiers only to get held back by Zapp. Zapp pulls Kif with him to hide in a corner until all the soldiers evacuated. Once all the soldiers had left Zapp begins his plan of leaving Normandy in the boat. "Ummm... sir... what are we doing?" Kif asked. "Well you see Kif, sometimes we just have to let the natural select thingy take its place." Zapp replied while pulling up the door of the boat. "All those guys are practically dead as we speak. Now do you want to be dead Kif? Do you?" Zapp asked in a very calm tone. " well..." Kif sighs, "No sir" he says in a depressing tone. "that is good Kif. That. Is. Goooooood." Zapp says as he gently fondles the middle of his chest. "Can you drive a boat Kif?" Zapp asked. "I can try,"Kif says. "I take that as a yes. take us to Vegas little man. I've got some old women waiting for me over there that need some me tiiime." Zapp says back to Kif while giving a humping gesture to him. " sir, Vegas cannot be reached by sea...sir." said Kif in a questionable tone. " I don't care Kif, we have to make it there at any cost." said Zapp with a confidence. " okay sir" mopes Kif. As Kif begins to walk for the helm Zapp asks for a favor. " Hey kif, can you bring an extra pair of underpants. my genitals decided to cry for the soldiers when the doors open and a bullet ran past my face knowing these men had no chance." Kif mopes another " yes sir." | |
[WP] You nervously approach the beaches of Normandy on the D-Day Invasion. Before the landing craft hits the beach, you and your comrades are given a pep talk by platoon leader Zapp Brannigan. | "Alright men, listen up. As you venture forth to fight this war of the worlds, remember one thing. Remember that while I sit in my Captain's Quarters drinking my cham-pagin, I'll be out there fighting with you. Not actually fighting of course, but fighting in my mind like some sort of headache with a gun."
Many of the men groaned.
"Now I know that many of you are going to die." He pointed at one of the smaller men. "You especially. But without your sacrifice we couldn't hope to make the enemy run out of bullets. There are only so many they can have you know. And once they reach that number that's when we strike. One strike and they're out, just like baseball."
The men began looking at each other nervously.
"I have thought through every aspect of this battle that could possibly take place. Knowing our enemy, the Scottish, as well as I do, I have come up several life saving tips for all of you."
"We're not fighting the Scottish!" Several of the men yelled out.
Zapp pulled out a set of bagpipes. "Well I guess we won't be needing these." He threw them overboard. "Damn. Over 20 minutes of practice wasted. No matter, I have a backup plan. How many of you have practiced dying heroically?"
No one said anything.
He smiled. "Uh huh, well no time to learn like 5 minutes from now." Zapp pointed at the smaller soldier again. "Probably 3 minutes for you. And remember, the ladies love a hero. They also love greeting cards and velour." He felt his uniform. "Mmmmm."
The boat approached the beach. "Okay men. Get out there and give those Scottish bastards Hell." | The Higgins boat shot through the choppy, storm turned waters of the Channel with speed that none of us expected. The men, stood, mostly quiet, some praying with ghostly whispered voices, others checked their dog tags - fearing that they may never be found, each of us clutched out wrapped rifles in white knuckled hands. The fear, dripped from us like the spray from the salty waters that banged against the hull of the craft.
At the front of the boat, covered behind the landing ramp, a single man stood. His uniform baffled us to this day, blood red with gold embellishments, like some kind of bastardized British Army uniform from days gone by. Each time a blast went off, he looked back towards us, there was no way that he could have pissed himself like a few men had - that ridiculous skirt he always wore would have given himself away.
Brannigan turned to face us as we cut through another wave, the force almost knocking him back into the ramp. "Men, what we have against us - is nothing we can't handle. You've been trained well, prepared for this task, you have more num...skill...than all of the defenders on that beach. They'll be waiting up there, chewing on their sourkrout, waiting for us. They'll get us."
He paused, looking around as though he was thinking, "I don't know how many of you it will take to take this beach. However, I know how many I'm going to use. You know why?"
We stared at him dumbfounded, trying to figure out exactly where this madman was going with this speech. "Behind them, behind those defenses, lies France. Back there, beyond all of this, there are women, many women. Women who will be grateful to us for saving them. And at this end of this, I will mate with one of these women. And you will be the first to know."
Then, before the ramp could drop, he dove over the side of the landing craft. We never saw him again during the fight.
However, as we took the bluffs of Omaha Beach, nearly all of our platoon was dead, yet somehow, the first man up the bluffs in his pristine uniform, was Zap.
Prick. | |
[WP] A man goes to sleep every night and find he's a different person each day when he wakes up. | In all honesty, this was better than waking up as a high schooler. Or as bin Laden. It hasn't happened yet, but I've sort of been ruing the day I wake up as a terrorist to be honest with you. I usually wake up as somebody western, save for a few days I woke up Chinese and this weird day I woke up as a Sikh living in Dubai.
Gonna be honest, the latter was kind of awkward to deal with. Shaving is usually part of my daily ritual (I've discovered I should have a few rituals, regardless of who I wake up as, just to keep me sane. I've had some lapses that resulted in a few mass shootings), but you can't shave as a Sikh. That threw me off for a few months. Even on days I wake up as a woman, I can usually get away with shaving my armpits or my legs or *something*. This luckily isn't the 70s, so I can fall into my routine unquestioned.
Yeah, this morning could have been worse. Luckily, I've woken up as a border guard a few times. They mostly just sit around in Ford F-250s marked "border patrol" and wait for a call on the CB. My partners usually slept through a few illegals passing right in front of the truck. I don't say anything. I'm only in the body for 24 hours. I'm a visitor, if you will. I don't like to cause trouble they won't remember.
I've done more than my fair share of that. There's a few boys in San Francisco who are probably still wanted for some temporary insanity and judgement lapses in the 70s. Some guy in Colorado was the victim of the most recent lapse in sanity.
I mean, can you blame me? I don't have a real identity. I'm just someone else every morning. Before him, I was a lot of weirdos. I was a scientologist, I was a devout Mormon wife (though I doubt *that* was a recognized part of the modern Mormon church, as I've been Joseph Smith before and he wasn't preaching *that* shit), an African bush woman, a Thai sex slave in Japan, and then, to top it off, a Guantanamo prisoner. All in the same week, I tell you. I dare you to stay sane after that week. I just dare you.
But yeah, I've been a border guard. And this morning, I woke up as Jose. Jose appeared to have a lovely life named Maria. Maria was *pretty* fucking pregnant, hopefully with Jose's kid, otherwise this was all for nothing. But me and Maria woke up in the back of an 18 wheeler, with a bunch of other persons of I *assume* Mexican decent. Obviously I didn't tell her I wasn't Jose. Assumedly he'd be back tomorrow.
I usually get my host's knowledge of languages. We chatted in Spanish, she wasn't feeling too good. She was getting pains on the regular, probably a sign the baby was about due.
I had no idea where we were, but provided the truck was marked, border patrol wouldn't bother with us. I remember being border patrol. Somewhere around the outskirts of Las Cruces, the truck stopped for a side-of-the-road pee break. Morons. Maria was doubled over in pain at this point and the geniuses driving the truck were making it every bit conspicuous to being a truck full of illegals. They had no idea that I-25 is *loaded* with border patrol and pulling us over to use the pisser was asking for trouble, even if the truck was marked with some phony-ass business. This had to stop.
The driver asked us in broken Spanish to get back into the truck. I helped Maria up (peeing isn't easy when you're expecting to pop one out within the next few hours). I'd been timing her contractions (not my first newborn, after all), they were down to five minutes apart. She'd have grounds to be admitted to the ER soon (thank god for that stint in St. Mary's general, even if was a nerve wracking experience).
I waited for the rest of my cohorts to crawl in the back of the 18-wheeler, before I headed to the cab. I didn't really have a weapon, but the driver had thrown a Pepsi can that I could twist the end off of. I did that in prison once, many years ago. I climbed into the passenger seat, the driver looking pissed as hell. Obviously his illicit cargo was supposed to stay in the back seat. Tough shit, I thought to myself as I brandished the sharpened end of my soda can.
"Listen," I said in perfect English, "You need to turn around and drive back into Las Cruces. One of your cargo is about to have a baby, and by God if I'll allow this man's son to be born in the back of a flatbed."
Amazingly, he obliged. And so, I live another day. | Carolyn walked into the coffee shop, hand trembling as she pressed into the clean glass door. A bell above the door DINGED, causing a small yelp to escape her lips. Her heart thumped in her chest and her stomach rose up behind her lungs, but when a kind face poked his head out from behind the register, Carolyn's mind was set at ease.
"Hi, what can I get you?" He said, smiling a wide, toothy smile.
"Just, uh, anything strong, and make it sweet," she said, a noticeable tremor shaking her voice as if the shop had been 30 below.
"Anything?"
"Surprise me, dammit," Carolyn said, digging through her unfamiliar purse. She finally came across a small billfold, pulled a ten from it, then slapped it onto the counter. She turned and went to find a seat before the barista could say anything more.
She rubbed at her temples, *Carolyn's* temples. It had been a rough night, rougher than normal. It had been fifteen years since the changes had started, at least that's what he/she thought. He/she (Carolyn?) had completely forgotten who he/she was before the switching happening, had at first tried to find the source for his/her nightly body-hopping, but it soon became pointless. Each day was a struggle, and he/she wondered what happened to the body whenever he/she (Carolyn) jumped to another body.
DING
Carolyn jumped in her seat, then relaxed.
She/he had thought that he/she had built up stamina, had somehow found a way to somewhat cope with the switching. Sometimes it was good, sometimes he/she found her/himself in a good body, a happy life with others that loved whoever he/she had been that day, but there were days that he/she would be in a country she/he had never been in before, speaking languages that he/she didn't even know she/he knew.
And there were those details that would sometimes stick with him/her. Details of that life, as if it were a faint whisper from another room in the unfamiliar house, someone telling him/her small details of the life that he/she had borrowed (stole?) for the day.
DING
Carolyn (or whoever was inside Carolyn) jumped in her seat again. Another customer walked into the shop.
There was a tap on her shoulder. Carolyn(?) screamed in her seat, turned, and slapped the mug that was in the barista's hand. The light brown liquid sprayed in a beautiful arc, luckily not landing on anyone's flesh.
"I'm sorry," he/she said, looking at the barista, "it's just been a rough night."
"No, no, it's okay," he said, eyes full of concern, "we've all had those rough nights, I'll get you another one, on the house."
She/he turned back into his/her seat, and began to think about the events that had happened the night before.
He/She was Toby the day before, had lain in bed with Christie, his beautiful wife, and had awoken to the sounds of explosions, warmth billowing into the tent.
There was a man yelling at one end of the tent, what was the word?
MORTAR MORTAR MORTAR INBOUND
**ding**
That was the word, mortars, there were mortars falling all around the base. Toby(?), or who was previously Toby, fell out of the cot he/she was sleeping in and scrambled about on the floor, trying his/her best to get his/her bearings. There were soldiers scrambling back and forth in the tent, trying to get their rifles, trying to put on their boots, and there were those explosions, those sounds of metal colliding into earth and bellowing out those ugly roars, sending rubble into the night air.
Ding.
The person who was now Carolyn didn't even have a chance to figure out who he/she was that night before a mortar came crashing down into the tent, igniting everything and everyone inside, including the person who is now currently Carolyn.
The person who is now Carolyn immediately woke in the middle of the night, now inside Carolyn instead of the unlucky soldier, sweat beading out onto her brow. At first she/he didn't know if it was a dream, or if he/she had actually swapped into a soldier overnight, then swapped out because he/she died, or if the swap happened because she/he willed it to happen before he/she died.
The person who is Carolyn for the day mulled it over as she drank from the mug the barista had brought her, still twitching at every **ding**. | |
[WP] A man goes to sleep every night and find he's a different person each day when he wakes up. | In all honesty, this was better than waking up as a high schooler. Or as bin Laden. It hasn't happened yet, but I've sort of been ruing the day I wake up as a terrorist to be honest with you. I usually wake up as somebody western, save for a few days I woke up Chinese and this weird day I woke up as a Sikh living in Dubai.
Gonna be honest, the latter was kind of awkward to deal with. Shaving is usually part of my daily ritual (I've discovered I should have a few rituals, regardless of who I wake up as, just to keep me sane. I've had some lapses that resulted in a few mass shootings), but you can't shave as a Sikh. That threw me off for a few months. Even on days I wake up as a woman, I can usually get away with shaving my armpits or my legs or *something*. This luckily isn't the 70s, so I can fall into my routine unquestioned.
Yeah, this morning could have been worse. Luckily, I've woken up as a border guard a few times. They mostly just sit around in Ford F-250s marked "border patrol" and wait for a call on the CB. My partners usually slept through a few illegals passing right in front of the truck. I don't say anything. I'm only in the body for 24 hours. I'm a visitor, if you will. I don't like to cause trouble they won't remember.
I've done more than my fair share of that. There's a few boys in San Francisco who are probably still wanted for some temporary insanity and judgement lapses in the 70s. Some guy in Colorado was the victim of the most recent lapse in sanity.
I mean, can you blame me? I don't have a real identity. I'm just someone else every morning. Before him, I was a lot of weirdos. I was a scientologist, I was a devout Mormon wife (though I doubt *that* was a recognized part of the modern Mormon church, as I've been Joseph Smith before and he wasn't preaching *that* shit), an African bush woman, a Thai sex slave in Japan, and then, to top it off, a Guantanamo prisoner. All in the same week, I tell you. I dare you to stay sane after that week. I just dare you.
But yeah, I've been a border guard. And this morning, I woke up as Jose. Jose appeared to have a lovely life named Maria. Maria was *pretty* fucking pregnant, hopefully with Jose's kid, otherwise this was all for nothing. But me and Maria woke up in the back of an 18 wheeler, with a bunch of other persons of I *assume* Mexican decent. Obviously I didn't tell her I wasn't Jose. Assumedly he'd be back tomorrow.
I usually get my host's knowledge of languages. We chatted in Spanish, she wasn't feeling too good. She was getting pains on the regular, probably a sign the baby was about due.
I had no idea where we were, but provided the truck was marked, border patrol wouldn't bother with us. I remember being border patrol. Somewhere around the outskirts of Las Cruces, the truck stopped for a side-of-the-road pee break. Morons. Maria was doubled over in pain at this point and the geniuses driving the truck were making it every bit conspicuous to being a truck full of illegals. They had no idea that I-25 is *loaded* with border patrol and pulling us over to use the pisser was asking for trouble, even if the truck was marked with some phony-ass business. This had to stop.
The driver asked us in broken Spanish to get back into the truck. I helped Maria up (peeing isn't easy when you're expecting to pop one out within the next few hours). I'd been timing her contractions (not my first newborn, after all), they were down to five minutes apart. She'd have grounds to be admitted to the ER soon (thank god for that stint in St. Mary's general, even if was a nerve wracking experience).
I waited for the rest of my cohorts to crawl in the back of the 18-wheeler, before I headed to the cab. I didn't really have a weapon, but the driver had thrown a Pepsi can that I could twist the end off of. I did that in prison once, many years ago. I climbed into the passenger seat, the driver looking pissed as hell. Obviously his illicit cargo was supposed to stay in the back seat. Tough shit, I thought to myself as I brandished the sharpened end of my soda can.
"Listen," I said in perfect English, "You need to turn around and drive back into Las Cruces. One of your cargo is about to have a baby, and by God if I'll allow this man's son to be born in the back of a flatbed."
Amazingly, he obliged. And so, I live another day. | Vic woke up and stretched. He looked down at himself only to see he was a she. Common, for this was going on for years.
Ever since he - she - conducted that experiment, life was different every day. Any friends she would make wouldn't recognize her the next day.
Good thing her name was Vic - Victor or Vicky. Always the same name, never the same person.
Vic lived the life of any person, only sometimes poor and sometimes rich. It was never the same. She would go to work (according to the papers) come home, and go to sleep. One morning however, nothing changed.
Vic woke up in the same life as before. Same beautiful, middle-classed girl. She got up and looked to her side. Same loving husband. Would it stay was the question, but Vic loved it while it lasted and put her arm around Dick. | |
[WP] A man goes to sleep every night and find he's a different person each day when he wakes up. | It was great, I didn't have to live my crappy life any more! I got to spend a day in the shoes of some random person and go somewhere else the next. Somehow I almost exclusively ended up as English speaker. It was a mix of good and bad; one day I'd wake up next to a really hot girl and the next I'd wake up next to a cow (or a goat, but I don't want to talk about that time). I generally try to help the people I'm in, if I can't do their job I'll call in sick and I have a strict policy of not doing any crimes they weren't going to do without me.
As time went on I got more and more loose about helping people. If they were pieces of shit I'd do them a disservice. I figured out one of my guys was a pedophile so I posted about it publicly online, he was arrested the next day. Later on I began playing jokes on some of them, in once case getting a tattoo. Before you call me horrible that person had like two free inches of skin on his body, but on the other hand it was Kermit the Frog...
One morning I had figured out I was a pro-slavery Baptist preacher so I decided to make this one interesting. That evening I drove 100 miles to the nearest gay brothel and instructed the three twinks I rented to wait until I was asleep for about an hour and start ramming me at the same time while on the phone with my wife. As far as they knew this was my way of breaking up.
I learned a very important lesson that night: it takes more than an hour of sleep to make the switch. | Vic woke up and stretched. He looked down at himself only to see he was a she. Common, for this was going on for years.
Ever since he - she - conducted that experiment, life was different every day. Any friends she would make wouldn't recognize her the next day.
Good thing her name was Vic - Victor or Vicky. Always the same name, never the same person.
Vic lived the life of any person, only sometimes poor and sometimes rich. It was never the same. She would go to work (according to the papers) come home, and go to sleep. One morning however, nothing changed.
Vic woke up in the same life as before. Same beautiful, middle-classed girl. She got up and looked to her side. Same loving husband. Would it stay was the question, but Vic loved it while it lasted and put her arm around Dick. | |
[WP] A great feast has begun! You, a wandering minstrel, have been hired as entertainment. The guests pound their goblets and bellow for a ballad of great heroes past or a raunchy tune. What shall you perform? | Rick the Minstrel swayed, looking in the audience for a familiar face, that familiar face. And there she was, peeking out from behind a portly knight! He took in a deep breath, preparing to perform the "Edward's Stand", the moving melody about a castle collapsing around the fabled warrior, but as he started to strum his mandolin, the lyrics left him.
Rick would have to wing it:
He looked to the lady.
*We're no strangers to love,*
Her clan had such strict customs when it came to courtship.
*You know the rules, and so do I.*
It was now or never. Would she accept him?
*A full commitment's what I'm thinking of--
You wouldn't get this from any other guy.*
The crowd started slapping the benches in rhythm. A piece of mutton bounced into the air.
*I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling,
Gotta make you understand!*
Her fair face flushed.
*Never gonna give you up,
Never gonna let you down.
Never gonna run around and desert you!
Never gonna make you cry,
Never gonna say goodbye,
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you!*
It was working. She was beaming, and the guests were taking their fill of cider, cheerful and discordant hums filling the great hall. And as long as they were happy, as long as she was happy, Rick would sing.
...I'm so sorry. I had to. | [NSFW]
Twas such a great night. The warrior's hall boomed with moaning from the orgy in the corner and groaning from the fist fights in the other corner. Blood was dried along the floor and mead spilled mead was being used to mop it all up. Racks of ribs and slices of lamb were on every plate. My own mouth was filled with juicy steak when I wasn't singing. The night was coming to an end. All erections had been settled and all knuckles were sore. Bellies were full and livers were badly damaged. The leader of the party stood from his table. His wine was being soaked up by his draping fur coat and his belly shot out at me like a crossbow.
“Oh thine great minstrel. Thous hath played a great many song for us tonight. We have heard the story of our warrior king Thangor and his conquest of the frozen isles. You have plucked your strings and sung the song of Jopling the masturbating elf. These are the songs of our people. We love your harmonious voice. But please, before this night is over you must play us one last tune. We do not care if it be a ballad of heroes or some silly cock and balls vocal. Entertain us.”
I ran my fingers down along the neck of my lute. My fuzzy little goatee was tickled by my palm. I hopped on top of the table littered with rib bones and goblets.
“Aye my lord and king. For thou I shall sing a song of many pleasures and adventures. A song of heroes and their loins. How does that sound?”
The dining hall erupted with laughter and table banging. It went on for a good minute before everyone of them sat back in their seats and spread open their ears and hearts waiting to hear the tale I would tell. The lights were dim when I played the first note. The song went a little something like this.
“On a hot and summer day
Lord Bathon came out from the castle to play
His trousers were filled
Along with his glass
He sought out fine wenches to fuck in the ass
Bathon searched low
Bathon searched high
But nowhere did he find a place between the thighs
The knights and the soldiers were called out to him
They came on their horses, they marched just like men
If there was a wet damsel, it was they who would find em
So they marched all day
They marched all night
When they sent word to Bathon
Oh he took flight
Far past the fields
And over the mountains
Under the springs
And through the bubbling fountains
High atop the dragons peek is where Bathon had gone
The soldiers pointed to the cave, and said to drunken Bathon “Go on”
Into the cave he did go
His dick wiggled in his pants, to and fro
When he returned his cock was nearly flattened
His beard was singed off and his eyebrows were blackened
Silly Bathon tried to fuck a dragon”
| |
[WP] A great feast has begun! You, a wandering minstrel, have been hired as entertainment. The guests pound their goblets and bellow for a ballad of great heroes past or a raunchy tune. What shall you perform? | Rick the Minstrel swayed, looking in the audience for a familiar face, that familiar face. And there she was, peeking out from behind a portly knight! He took in a deep breath, preparing to perform the "Edward's Stand", the moving melody about a castle collapsing around the fabled warrior, but as he started to strum his mandolin, the lyrics left him.
Rick would have to wing it:
He looked to the lady.
*We're no strangers to love,*
Her clan had such strict customs when it came to courtship.
*You know the rules, and so do I.*
It was now or never. Would she accept him?
*A full commitment's what I'm thinking of--
You wouldn't get this from any other guy.*
The crowd started slapping the benches in rhythm. A piece of mutton bounced into the air.
*I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling,
Gotta make you understand!*
Her fair face flushed.
*Never gonna give you up,
Never gonna let you down.
Never gonna run around and desert you!
Never gonna make you cry,
Never gonna say goodbye,
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you!*
It was working. She was beaming, and the guests were taking their fill of cider, cheerful and discordant hums filling the great hall. And as long as they were happy, as long as she was happy, Rick would sing.
...I'm so sorry. I had to. | The great feast was upon us. The valiant king had just slayed yet another army that tried to oppose him. I, the traveling minstrel, lute in hand, stood on the table listening to the clanging of the goblets. They were cheering me on, some wanting a tale of heroism, some wanting a rather raunchy tune.
I slowly began to strum the strings and form a song in my mind.
*Oh great king,*
*You have slayed the evil queen,*
*Which is a tragedy in itself,*
*As unlike your wife,*
*She was a beautiful elf.*
The room fell silent. The king’s wife did not laugh, but I could see the hints of a smile light up the king’s face.
“You there,” I pointed.
*There once was a man,*
*Who smelled worse than a trash can,*
*For he was too fat,*
*And this made him a pain to look at.*
A couple drunken laughs erupted from throughout the room. I locked eyes with one of the men and pointed, then continued.
*And you good sir,*
*Will need a chauffeur,*
*As your breath reeks of wine,*
*Your wife will be pissed,*
*If you’re drinking does not subsist.*
A man in armor, perhaps a knight, stood up and yelled at me.
“Just who do you think your are?” he shouted for all the room to here. I wasn’t fazed, though, and continued to strum my lute, a new tune coming to mind.
*I see you’ve raised your sword,*
*And its size leaves me floored,*
*Yet with as angry as you are,*
*You must be hiding a scar,*
*For big men like you don’t cry,*
*As it would be unbecoming of a guy,*
*If you ask me you are overcompensating,*
*For you must have a hard time populating,*
*Although your sword is large,*
*Women will find you hold no charge,*
*Mess with me not, you’ll find,*
*For I am an insult comedian,*
*And I’ll make fun of the blind.*
And so the man sat down in defeat as I continued my song, moving through the crowd, making fun of the weak and strong.
-272 | |
[WP] A great feast has begun! You, a wandering minstrel, have been hired as entertainment. The guests pound their goblets and bellow for a ballad of great heroes past or a raunchy tune. What shall you perform? | Rick the Minstrel swayed, looking in the audience for a familiar face, that familiar face. And there she was, peeking out from behind a portly knight! He took in a deep breath, preparing to perform the "Edward's Stand", the moving melody about a castle collapsing around the fabled warrior, but as he started to strum his mandolin, the lyrics left him.
Rick would have to wing it:
He looked to the lady.
*We're no strangers to love,*
Her clan had such strict customs when it came to courtship.
*You know the rules, and so do I.*
It was now or never. Would she accept him?
*A full commitment's what I'm thinking of--
You wouldn't get this from any other guy.*
The crowd started slapping the benches in rhythm. A piece of mutton bounced into the air.
*I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling,
Gotta make you understand!*
Her fair face flushed.
*Never gonna give you up,
Never gonna let you down.
Never gonna run around and desert you!
Never gonna make you cry,
Never gonna say goodbye,
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you!*
It was working. She was beaming, and the guests were taking their fill of cider, cheerful and discordant hums filling the great hall. And as long as they were happy, as long as she was happy, Rick would sing.
...I'm so sorry. I had to. | *I am The People's Bard, and I was born for this prompt. Like my hero, Puke, I was drinking while I wrote and recorded this, so please excuse any sloppiness. The lyrics are below; you can listen to the song [here](http://clyp.it/iucl3lad).*
**Puke And The Dragon**
Fine ladies and good men, I ask you to sit tight
while I sing the tale of a heroic knight.
His King called him Sir, but his friends called him Puke
since the day he vomited on the shoes of a Duke.
You see, our soldier liked to sip an infinite amount of wine,
and this made him a touch sloppy, but always a good time.
One day Puke's King needed the best Knight in the land,
and Puke wasn't quite sober, but he raised his hand.
The King commanded, "Rid the cave of its dragon-kind,
and I will give you whatever you'd like."
So Puke grabbed his sword and a skin of wine,
and took his fine steed out for a ride.
The cave's entrance was dark, but Puke could see through bleary eyes:
black smoke billowed slowly out from deep inside.
He swallowed a mouthful and shrugged. He climbed to the entrance way
and yelled, "Dragon, why don't you come out to play?"
And the beast answered his call with a roar:
"Who dares come to my door?"
"My name is Puke, and I've come to make an offer on this cave.
I promise to deliver any item you desire if you simply go away."
The Dragon screamed "I want the crown!" and laughed at this man, whom he planned to eat,
but his laughter stopped short when Puke said, "Give me one week."
The Dragon flew off to plague another land, with their with their rendezvous set,
and Puke went home--after stopping at every bar he met.
Puke entered the Royal Hall and said, "My King, the Dragon is gone;
it was no easy battle, but I finished him off."
"Oh, Puke, your King is a man of his word.
Tell me what your courage is worth."
"My Liege, I just want the crown on your head,
and a cask of wine and a loaf of bread." | |
[WP] A young cancer patient is sick and tired of all these damn celebrities popping in for surprise visits. | It started out small, the fear growing in Ellie. At only 14 she was diagnosed with neuroblastoma. Generally the five-year outlook wasn't too bad, but she wasn't so lucky. Eventually, she spent more time in the hospital than out. Her bed was her home, school, and, she knew, her deathbed. The fear that had started out so small grew, branching out and filling her with such dread that the end seemed too far. The helplessness would drive her insane before the cancer killed her.
Having some of her favorite people come by alleviated the pressure somewhat, but they merely represented her time ticking by. Her favorite actor, actress, singer, dancer, writer, the list goes on. She knew they were there because of the cancer, not her. Their stares were empty to her, filled with sympathy rather than empathy. She wanted to scream at them, spewing her rich, fevered emotions on their consciences. She was still a person; she still had hopes, dreams, emotions, and passion. All of that was cut short by this arbitrary monster that had made her body its host. Slowly, her fear turned to anger.
The last visitor held a unique hope. He was her favorite writer. Amongst the few things she could do in the hospital, she could read. There were an endless number of worlds she could escape to, temporarily forgetting her eminent demise. She saw parts of herself in these books, some essence that she related to wholly. Here, she thought, was someone who could save her from the pit which threatened to swallow her sanity.
But all she received was that hollow stare. It was heartbreaking. The one person she felt could understand her, realize how the situation affected her, treated her like everyone else. Like everyone else, he spoke to her mom. There were pleasantries exchanged and topics relating to the future avoided. Anything holding back her fermented fear and rage failed. She let out a soulful cry, alone in a world she wouldn't be able to take part in. Her words, broken by sobs and moans, cut deep. All her insecurities about being looked at as an object, something less than whole, spilled out of her. There was nothing that could make up for such a short life, she argued. She would die in the most solitary way, having no time to find someone who understood.
Her breathing was labored, gasps filling her lungs with barely enough air to get by. The steady beat of her heart faltered and she felt pain spreading across her face. *No.* It was her last thought as she looked around the room. Her mother was wide-eyed and scared. The hospital staff rushing in were focused on saving her. The author, her favorite author, looked sad, ashamed. Her body fell back against the pillows. She wasn't saved.
| The last couple of weeks were the hardest. He tried to hold out hope that things would be different. He tried to stay positive and will himself to hold on just a little bit longer. But unfortunately, that had become an increasingly difficult feat. He didn't have much strength left to hold on. He questioned whether he had any at all these past five days. Still, he kept on wishing, begging to whomever it was you were supposed to call out to, for a little bit more time.
"Look, James!" cooed Nurse Ygrette as she, along with a crowd of doctors and orderlies, approached his bed. "You have another special visitor!" Nurse Ygrette spoke to him as she would a child. There was something patronizing, yet comforting, about the way she went about talking to James. Such an odd mixture of emotions, but it was always welcomed.
James' vision was almost gone at this point. He attempted to lift his head as a means of feigning interest in this guest in his room. That was no use. A smile had to suffice for now.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, James," the guest said. Her voice was calming and sultry and powerful all at the same time. It was Adele. The room was abuzz as she filled the halls the same way a songbird fills the morning air. James did his best to smile. He even hummed along to the few songs he knew as she serenaded him. Pictures were taken. Cards were signed. Gifts were given. And just like that, it was over. She was gone. And he was alone.
"Finally!" he thought as he scraped off the fake smile he previously plastered onto his face. This was a ritual he had grown accustomed to. Adele was simply one of many to have 'blessed' him with her company. She, along with Andrew Garfield, Idris Elba, Sam Smith, fucking One Direction, and many others came and went, disrupting his dissent into the nothingness that is death. This was James' hell. Each one, no matter how cheery or talented or reward laden, was a reminder that his own daughter had yet to come see him.
"This was it," he thought.
"It's over and I am as at peace as I am going to get." he noted.
"I will never see my girl again... And I'll never understand why only British celebrities came to visit. I'm in Detroit." | |
[WP] A young cancer patient is sick and tired of all these damn celebrities popping in for surprise visits. | It started out small, the fear growing in Ellie. At only 14 she was diagnosed with neuroblastoma. Generally the five-year outlook wasn't too bad, but she wasn't so lucky. Eventually, she spent more time in the hospital than out. Her bed was her home, school, and, she knew, her deathbed. The fear that had started out so small grew, branching out and filling her with such dread that the end seemed too far. The helplessness would drive her insane before the cancer killed her.
Having some of her favorite people come by alleviated the pressure somewhat, but they merely represented her time ticking by. Her favorite actor, actress, singer, dancer, writer, the list goes on. She knew they were there because of the cancer, not her. Their stares were empty to her, filled with sympathy rather than empathy. She wanted to scream at them, spewing her rich, fevered emotions on their consciences. She was still a person; she still had hopes, dreams, emotions, and passion. All of that was cut short by this arbitrary monster that had made her body its host. Slowly, her fear turned to anger.
The last visitor held a unique hope. He was her favorite writer. Amongst the few things she could do in the hospital, she could read. There were an endless number of worlds she could escape to, temporarily forgetting her eminent demise. She saw parts of herself in these books, some essence that she related to wholly. Here, she thought, was someone who could save her from the pit which threatened to swallow her sanity.
But all she received was that hollow stare. It was heartbreaking. The one person she felt could understand her, realize how the situation affected her, treated her like everyone else. Like everyone else, he spoke to her mom. There were pleasantries exchanged and topics relating to the future avoided. Anything holding back her fermented fear and rage failed. She let out a soulful cry, alone in a world she wouldn't be able to take part in. Her words, broken by sobs and moans, cut deep. All her insecurities about being looked at as an object, something less than whole, spilled out of her. There was nothing that could make up for such a short life, she argued. She would die in the most solitary way, having no time to find someone who understood.
Her breathing was labored, gasps filling her lungs with barely enough air to get by. The steady beat of her heart faltered and she felt pain spreading across her face. *No.* It was her last thought as she looked around the room. Her mother was wide-eyed and scared. The hospital staff rushing in were focused on saving her. The author, her favorite author, looked sad, ashamed. Her body fell back against the pillows. She wasn't saved.
| Yeah, at first is was kinda cool. Due to my parents, a lot of people were aware of what I had. They figured that if I was gonna die, they might as well use my inevitable death from cancer to make the world better. They set up a foundation in my name, which was cool at first. It got some traction, and soon enough my bed-ridden ass became a poster boy.
At first, it was amazing. I saw Robert Downey Junior, Hugh Jackman, and Morgan Freeman. I was sick off my ass on meds, but it was still cool. As the weeks went by, however, all of the high profile celebrities made their 'right of passage', and the D-listers started to come. Who the fuck is Tanya Harding? Cancer sucks, but God damn, can I just die already? Next thing you know Ron Jeremy will show up and do a porno with me. | |
[WP] A young cancer patient is sick and tired of all these damn celebrities popping in for surprise visits. | It started out small, the fear growing in Ellie. At only 14 she was diagnosed with neuroblastoma. Generally the five-year outlook wasn't too bad, but she wasn't so lucky. Eventually, she spent more time in the hospital than out. Her bed was her home, school, and, she knew, her deathbed. The fear that had started out so small grew, branching out and filling her with such dread that the end seemed too far. The helplessness would drive her insane before the cancer killed her.
Having some of her favorite people come by alleviated the pressure somewhat, but they merely represented her time ticking by. Her favorite actor, actress, singer, dancer, writer, the list goes on. She knew they were there because of the cancer, not her. Their stares were empty to her, filled with sympathy rather than empathy. She wanted to scream at them, spewing her rich, fevered emotions on their consciences. She was still a person; she still had hopes, dreams, emotions, and passion. All of that was cut short by this arbitrary monster that had made her body its host. Slowly, her fear turned to anger.
The last visitor held a unique hope. He was her favorite writer. Amongst the few things she could do in the hospital, she could read. There were an endless number of worlds she could escape to, temporarily forgetting her eminent demise. She saw parts of herself in these books, some essence that she related to wholly. Here, she thought, was someone who could save her from the pit which threatened to swallow her sanity.
But all she received was that hollow stare. It was heartbreaking. The one person she felt could understand her, realize how the situation affected her, treated her like everyone else. Like everyone else, he spoke to her mom. There were pleasantries exchanged and topics relating to the future avoided. Anything holding back her fermented fear and rage failed. She let out a soulful cry, alone in a world she wouldn't be able to take part in. Her words, broken by sobs and moans, cut deep. All her insecurities about being looked at as an object, something less than whole, spilled out of her. There was nothing that could make up for such a short life, she argued. She would die in the most solitary way, having no time to find someone who understood.
Her breathing was labored, gasps filling her lungs with barely enough air to get by. The steady beat of her heart faltered and she felt pain spreading across her face. *No.* It was her last thought as she looked around the room. Her mother was wide-eyed and scared. The hospital staff rushing in were focused on saving her. The author, her favorite author, looked sad, ashamed. Her body fell back against the pillows. She wasn't saved.
| The young man lay in his bed and let out a small sigh of relief. No celebrities today, today was Sunday, the Lords Day, a day for rest. No Dicaprio, no Brangelina, no Johnny Depp in his fucking Pirates of the Caribbean costume. Just a nice easy day of relaxing.
And the day passed and it was a perfectly normal, uneventful day. First at breakfast, he took his time to get up and eat. "Nowhere to be today," He said cheerfully to nobody in particular. He had a perfectly bland bowl of Rice Krispies, and orange juice that was neither too sweet nor too sour but perfectly average.
He went back to his room and watched "who wants to be a millionaire," he didn't get many questions right but that was ok. At 11 o'clock he turned off the tv and happily continued reading "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince". It was the 4th time he had read it, but that was ok.
He ate lunch, and got to dinner without a hitch. Not one Beiber sighting, not even Hannah Montana. He laid his head down in bed that night and breathed a sigh of perfect contentment. Today had been normal.
He awoke to a screeching nurse, "Wake up! Wake up! Matt Damon is here to visit! You wouldn't wanna miss that would you?!"
He sighed and looked around at the hospital room. Today would not be a normal day. Today was another day in the hospital. | |
[WP] Humanity realizes we are nothing but a school project a kid from a super advanced civilization had to make. He failed the project and is coming to us in a tantrum...to demand answers before "cleaning up the mess". | "You lost kid?"
The young boy looked up at the green-eyed jacket-man, who stared back through lightly tinted glasses just hanging off the crook of his nose.
The boy didn't respond. He just stared back up at the man with an intensity that sent an uncomfortable tingle down the spine.
"Maybe someone lost you? Or were you doing errands for your mum? Well it can't be that, what mother would send a boy out for peas and carrots at a time like this."
The green-eyes scanned the parking lot outside the store, looking past overturned cars and shattered glass for the signs of someone waiting, someone hoping, someone looking back. A strong gust of wind greeted him, slapping an old newspaper onto his face.
He waved his hands around frantically, trying to remove the paper. As he did, he heard an odd sound from nearby - it almost slipped by him, like a memory just barely recalled.
"Found that funny, eh squirt?" The young boy looked up, smiling wide. "Little troublemaker, aren't you. Well this isn't the place for a boy to be wandering. Mobs still about and all that, people aren't on their best behavior since-"
The man paused and cocked his head for a moment, watching as the young boy did the same. "Well that's not anything you need to worry about. Innocence is a precious commodity these days."
"Wouldn't have to be if you didn't mess everything up."
The little voice squeaked out, quiet yet strangely audible at the same time. You'd strain to hear it and yet wince at the loudness of it. The man paused for a moment, unsure and unsteady.
"Yeah...yeah thats true. We certainly did mess everything up."
He sighed, and sat down on the ground, looking at the boy at eye level.
"Whats your name squirt?"
The little boy just stared straight ahead, right through the jacket-man and into spine-tingling infinity. The man sighed, trying to wear a smile.
"Well that's fine. Names don't mean much now do they? No point in having names if there's not going to be anyone around to remember them."
The boy cocked his head again. "Why wont anyone remember?'"
Jacket-man paused, tasting his words carefully. "Well squirt, humanity - you, me, everyone - turns out that we haven't been behaving all too well. And - well it turns out that we aren't exactly the biggest blue dot in the universe, you know? Well maybe you don't, but - well think of it like this. You know how when you do something wrong, your mom or dad will punish you for it?"
The boy nodded along, and the man continued. "Well Humanity has a mom or dad. Or something like that - and it looks like we're about to get one hell of a punishment. A really big punishment. And that punishment - well, I don't really know whats going to happen. But I don't think that we're going to get off that easy."
"Why not?"
"Well mom- or maybe dad, I'm not sure which, maybe both - they were *really* angry. I thought my dad did angry pretty good, he could do a number with a belt, but this guy? That's a special kind of angry. It's like when you send your kid out with the family car and he comes back with a DUI - you have no idea what I'm talking about."
The boy nodded furiously. The man scratched his head, trying to reach back and remember what was common and what wasn't for a child. "You do? Well that's fine then, I wont judge. Well, lets keep it simple, anyways - mom or dad or whatever is real, real angry because we didn't do a very good job of being good people. And we were just standing there with our pants round our ankles trying to explain how it wasn't all that bad, how we weren't bad people - we aren't *all* bad people, you know? That sort of thing"
"Are there a lot of bad people?"
"No, I don't think its that - I think there are a lot more good people than bad people. But there are also a lot of scared people, stupid people, angry people, sad people - there are a lot of different kinds of people. And good and bad - well that changes, right? It's not always that simple. Sometimes what you think is a good thing - what you think will help people, will save people, will keep them safe - ends up being really bad later on."
The boy nodded, though the jacket-man wasn't sure what he was nodding at.
"Anyways, whatever it is that we were supposed to do, I guess we just didn't do it."
The boy looked up at the sky, staring past the hazy clouds and streaks of smoke trails going up into the atmosphere. "Could you have done it?"
"Probably. Maybe. Hell, honestly I think its a stupid question. Maybe we haven't done things just right, just the right way, in the right time, but we've done some really special stuff. Maybe not as a species, but as people - you know, friends, family, all of that. Special stuff happens there all the time, even if it doesn't show."
The man reached into his jacket, and pulled out a shiny metal tab, holding it out to the boy. He grabbed it and examined it closely, running small fingers over the embossed print.
"See those? Those used to belong to some really special guys. Great guys. We were all family, and we tried to do what was right. Or what we thought was right. And it turns out that wasn't what we were supposed to be doing. Any of it, all of it. But you know what? These guys right here, they still did some great work. Maybe it wasn't the right work, but it was great work."
The boy held the tags up to the sun, watching the light shimmer and flash. "Can I talk to them?"
The man smiled, and held his hand out. The boy placed the tags into his outstretched hand, watching as the man stroked the tags slowly. "Maybe. After this, maybe we will. I hope so, at least."
The man went quiet, his eyes red behind tinted glasses. The boy went quiet too, staring intently at the ground. The man reached out and tussled his hair. "You're a good kid. I don't know whats going to come out of this, but - well, I'm glad we had a chat."
The boy smiled, closing his eyes as he felt the weight of the mans hand. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at the green-eyed jacket man.
"I gotta go."
The boy held his hand out, hovering in air. The man took it, holding it gingerly. The boy had an unusually strong grip
"Good to meet you."
"Yeah, you too squirt. Wait, where are you going to go? Not safe for you to wander alone."
The boy pointed up. A light suddenly shot down, enveloping him. "Don't worry. I'm safe."
The man stumbled back, his glasses knocked askew. His mouth hung agape as he fell on his back.
"Thanks for talking. I think I know what I'll do now."
As the light grew brighter, all the man could see was the outline of the boy. He fumbled with his glasses, trying to put them back on so he could see. Before he could, he heard a whisper just soft enough to be heard, but loud enough to wince.
"Don't be scared. It'll be ok."
| "57 percent!" Shouted the boy angrily. "I created a world so vast and complicated; I created these creatures that could think for themselves!"A massive blue hand descended on to earth pointing to all of the U.N. recognized countries. "If you guys hadn't had all these stupid wars and genocides I would've gotten a good grade. All you guys seem to create is more suffering. Why! Why!" The boy said through sobs "why should I keep around a reminder of my own stupidity."
"Because of love" stated a man on a hospital bed with only a few gasps left. "Love" he reiterated as his young daughter clung tightly to his hand and his cried. All the boy could see was suffering; he could not understand the compassion this insignificant human family had for each-other. He could not see the hours passing by under the warm sun spent with someone you love. He could not see the young girls first day of school. He could not see a wedding, a birth, a party. All he saw was suffering. For no one could understand the complexity of the human species, for the alsphaiins could not understand love. It was simply not a necessity, so it did not exist.
The man took a final deep breath and with a shudder he died. For a moment the boy felt a slight amount of sadness, for now the boy could understand the man and the people around him: the people who loved him.
"Is it true, what he said" said the boy choking up. The mans wife nodded slowly. "All around the world"
" Yes everywhere there is love" said the woman.
"Than why do you guys fight" asked the boy.
"To protect what we love" stated the woman. The young boy left his room and said as he was closing the with tears in his eyes " keep loving, not everyone has that right.
| |
[WP] Humanity realizes we are nothing but a school project a kid from a super advanced civilization had to make. He failed the project and is coming to us in a tantrum...to demand answers before "cleaning up the mess". | Failure.
The word sat like a pit in the bottom of his fourth stomach. He had never failed a project before.
This one had been his most ambitious yet. A fully functional miniature society, evolved from the base organisms all the way up. A guaranteed full points score. He still didn't know exactly where it had gone wrong. Things were working up to a point and then they just... stopped.
They had just never developed true telepathy. They had reached the *verge* of true civilization and had just... stopped.
But that wasn't why he had failed. No, that would've just made the project one of the myriad of other "Oh, isn't that nice" projects that were being displayed around the room. No, the reason that he had failed was because the *stupid* half-civilized critters had somehow managed to contaminate the other projects.
Zre'ghar was still trying to clean up the corner of his red planet (he hadn't even *bothered* to try for life forms) and some jerk from class 9 was claiming he had seem them on his "Alpha Centauri" project. The teachers were using a tracker to try to figure out just how far they had gotten, but it kept throwing positive responses *everywhere*.
He held his head in his hands... how was he going to explain this to his parents. | "57 percent!" Shouted the boy angrily. "I created a world so vast and complicated; I created these creatures that could think for themselves!"A massive blue hand descended on to earth pointing to all of the U.N. recognized countries. "If you guys hadn't had all these stupid wars and genocides I would've gotten a good grade. All you guys seem to create is more suffering. Why! Why!" The boy said through sobs "why should I keep around a reminder of my own stupidity."
"Because of love" stated a man on a hospital bed with only a few gasps left. "Love" he reiterated as his young daughter clung tightly to his hand and his cried. All the boy could see was suffering; he could not understand the compassion this insignificant human family had for each-other. He could not see the hours passing by under the warm sun spent with someone you love. He could not see the young girls first day of school. He could not see a wedding, a birth, a party. All he saw was suffering. For no one could understand the complexity of the human species, for the alsphaiins could not understand love. It was simply not a necessity, so it did not exist.
The man took a final deep breath and with a shudder he died. For a moment the boy felt a slight amount of sadness, for now the boy could understand the man and the people around him: the people who loved him.
"Is it true, what he said" said the boy choking up. The mans wife nodded slowly. "All around the world"
" Yes everywhere there is love" said the woman.
"Than why do you guys fight" asked the boy.
"To protect what we love" stated the woman. The young boy left his room and said as he was closing the with tears in his eyes " keep loving, not everyone has that right.
| |
I always see/read this character: he has the answer that everyone wants to know, but chooses to not share it and go into hiding. Usually it's because he/she believes "Humanity isn't ready for the truth."
What if, in actuality, the holder of the secret is just a jerk and does't want people to ever learn the answer? | [WP] A man holds the key to a secret that mankind has searched tirelessly for, but refuses to share it simply because he is an asshole. | He sat on his rocking chair, in front of his fire, smoking his pipe. The room was dark, short of the tiny circle of light surrounding the fireplace. A thick scent of pipe tobacco filled the air, with the occasional clink of ice against his whiskey glass. Above the flames, on the mantle, there was a case. The licks of light glinting on its glassy surface looked like the fireflies he saw growing up. Whatever the case held was lost to shadow.
Beside him, a red velvet high-back chair. In it sat a young man, looking quite dapper in his suit. He pushed his glasses up with his free hand, the other holding an untouched draw of whiskey.
"You say you tried to give it to them?" the young man asked.
"Yes, of course I did. What good would it do a man of my age? I am past the threshold."
"Why didn't they take it?"
"They called me a loon, boy. The key..." he laughed, a deep throaty laugh that wrenched a cough out of his lungs. "they threw it away."
The old man stood up, and produced a cain from the side of his rocking chair and hobbled to the mantle. He rested the cain against the brick facade and used both hands to pull down the case. Without his cane, he slowly walked over to the young man. As he neared, the boy saw its contents: a branch with half of its leaves stripped.
"For two hundred years I have drank the tea produced from this tree. This is all that remains. The tree that once grew it is now dead, and with it I will soon be too."
"If you had it for two hundred years, why didn't you share it before? You had so much time..."
"Because I was to busy being alive!" he old man yelled. "I was walking, drinking, loving. I was so busy being alive I forgot to make sure I always carried supplies, which is why this old body is what I have left. Selfish."
He stopped, considering the boy for a moment.
"There are seeds in here, I collected them carefully to ensure the tree could be grown again. I am giving them to you." he proffered the case to the boy, who carefully took it. "Do well with it, and leave me be."
The young man left, taking the case home. He sat at his kitchen table for some time, staring at the twig in the case. He picked it up and threw it in the trash with more force than he intended.
"Old fool, who the hell would believe a story like that."
| It was a small box. She didn't mention anything except that it held something important. I couldn't imagine it to be all that spectacular. I held it between my arms and made sure I wouldn't lose it during the flight. I was on my way to planet 4-A5 and I was surrounded by fifty other dillerbolls. They were just as slimey, just as horrid, and just thieving as I was. We learned at a young age to watch out for ourselves and that's exactly how you survived in this damn galaxy...to be just as much of an asshole as the next dillerboll.
I can't get this box out of my head. It's painstakingly difficult... there's no way I can't look at it. I'm risking my life, I should at least have the privilege as to know what I'm holding so close my heart... |
I always see/read this character: he has the answer that everyone wants to know, but chooses to not share it and go into hiding. Usually it's because he/she believes "Humanity isn't ready for the truth."
What if, in actuality, the holder of the secret is just a jerk and does't want people to ever learn the answer? | [WP] A man holds the key to a secret that mankind has searched tirelessly for, but refuses to share it simply because he is an asshole. | He sat on his rocking chair, in front of his fire, smoking his pipe. The room was dark, short of the tiny circle of light surrounding the fireplace. A thick scent of pipe tobacco filled the air, with the occasional clink of ice against his whiskey glass. Above the flames, on the mantle, there was a case. The licks of light glinting on its glassy surface looked like the fireflies he saw growing up. Whatever the case held was lost to shadow.
Beside him, a red velvet high-back chair. In it sat a young man, looking quite dapper in his suit. He pushed his glasses up with his free hand, the other holding an untouched draw of whiskey.
"You say you tried to give it to them?" the young man asked.
"Yes, of course I did. What good would it do a man of my age? I am past the threshold."
"Why didn't they take it?"
"They called me a loon, boy. The key..." he laughed, a deep throaty laugh that wrenched a cough out of his lungs. "they threw it away."
The old man stood up, and produced a cain from the side of his rocking chair and hobbled to the mantle. He rested the cain against the brick facade and used both hands to pull down the case. Without his cane, he slowly walked over to the young man. As he neared, the boy saw its contents: a branch with half of its leaves stripped.
"For two hundred years I have drank the tea produced from this tree. This is all that remains. The tree that once grew it is now dead, and with it I will soon be too."
"If you had it for two hundred years, why didn't you share it before? You had so much time..."
"Because I was to busy being alive!" he old man yelled. "I was walking, drinking, loving. I was so busy being alive I forgot to make sure I always carried supplies, which is why this old body is what I have left. Selfish."
He stopped, considering the boy for a moment.
"There are seeds in here, I collected them carefully to ensure the tree could be grown again. I am giving them to you." he proffered the case to the boy, who carefully took it. "Do well with it, and leave me be."
The young man left, taking the case home. He sat at his kitchen table for some time, staring at the twig in the case. He picked it up and threw it in the trash with more force than he intended.
"Old fool, who the hell would believe a story like that."
| I have lived a very long time. Something happens when you have so much time on your hands - you become very good at learning things, at learning people. I like to win, to come out on top in every interaction.
But every now and then, someone surprises me. Call it a gift, innate talent, whatever. From time to time someone actually challenges me in some way, despite my years of experience. And it makes me afraid. Afraid of what might happen if someone like that were to find out what I know. So I crush them. And I smile. After all, it's one of the things I've had the most practice at. |
I always see/read this character: he has the answer that everyone wants to know, but chooses to not share it and go into hiding. Usually it's because he/she believes "Humanity isn't ready for the truth."
What if, in actuality, the holder of the secret is just a jerk and does't want people to ever learn the answer? | [WP] A man holds the key to a secret that mankind has searched tirelessly for, but refuses to share it simply because he is an asshole. | "So you're telling me you managed to create a nuclear fusion reactor in your own back yard, using nothing but household implements?"
"You bet I did! I'm using it to power everything in my house. It's pretty neat, isn't it?"
"It's incredible... You need to tell someone about this! We could completely revolutionize the world with this!"
"Nah."
"What?"
"I don't really see why I should do that."
"Look at this thing! I'm willing to bet that it's giving off enough energy to--"
"I already said I'm not gonna share it."
"Why the hell not? I'm pretty sure that this thing completely violates the laws of Thermodynamics, this will shake the very foundations of science as we know it! How could you not want to make this known to the world?"
"I just really don't see why I should."
"Dude, you're being such a dick right now. We're sitting on a goldmine, and you're just not going to do anything with it?"
"Nope."
"Listen to yourself man! What could you possibly seek to gain by withholding this information?
"Not much."
"So let's go! Call the media!"
"Nah."
"Jesus fucking Christ, Phil, you are such a dick." | Lemonade stands are where I got started in this world, where I learned how business could be managed, and how it should be. There are differences between these two. Could - I could offer free samples to some exasperated runner in desperation of fluids. Should - I should charge him double because his eyes are green, the color I dislike the most. The worlds most valuable lessons can be learned from managing a small lemonade stand. I've written several books, all in dead languages. Does that bother people? Don't care, learn about other cultures, you xenophobe. How does lemonade stands have to do with anything? Let's just say I was lucky, well that's what jealous maggots think. I'm fully aware it was my destiny. I ran a lemonade stand for about 3 months. I was raised in a rather undisciplined household. I was expected to fend for myself, living with parasites. My mother was sweet, but far too weak and eventually died to cancer. The one good thing I ever learned from her was "Benny you should start a lemonade business!" I did just that. However, I was well versed at the board game Monopoly. I knew others would try this too. So the first part of successful business, sabotage. You tell the kid whose about a year younger than you, well any far fetched lie, he's an idiot and will believe it. And this next part, I've been to the confessional for, though it was mainly a publicity stunt. I dumped out all his product, and pissed into it, as well as some of my less responsible friends. People have tried this before, and failed. Not me. I also poured vinegar into all of them, as I hate the stuff and it has a pretty horrific stench. Now I have one of my neighbors try it, one I despise. I tell him about a different stand down the street, one that doesn't exist. So he'll go there, and he'll drink adolescent piss. Kid will cry once he yells at him and calls for his parents. Anyone else tries to move in on my game, will suffer accordingly.
But running a successful lemonade stand will not get you into a good college, or make you six figures. One day, this weird looking hippie with sandals and some weird crown of thorns comes to my lemonade stand. He was so polite, and seemed really old school. I hated it, he asked for free lemonade. I'm not really proud of this next part but, I said sure and went back to the house to get a refill for him. I proceeded to empty an entire can of Raid into it. I was not a good kid. So once he starts dying before me, suffocating or bleeding, hell I don't know. He's dying on the pavement, he motions to me. I was giddy, to hear his final breath, would he curse me? No. He whispers me the secret of all Life. I killed Jesus, and then he told me his secrets. I knew at that moment, I was going to be high all the time and neck deep in sin. I've sold complete lies to people, published "non-fiction" on what he told me. None of it true, maybe someday a kid as brilliant as I was will poison me, and hear my dying words. Which I'd simply tell him to go fuck himself. I'll be memorialized no matter what crimes I've committed, when I'm roasting in the pit of Hell, I'll see on Earth, a day specifically dedicated to me. I wouldn't be surprised to be the last Saint. I'm just that good. |
I always see/read this character: he has the answer that everyone wants to know, but chooses to not share it and go into hiding. Usually it's because he/she believes "Humanity isn't ready for the truth."
What if, in actuality, the holder of the secret is just a jerk and does't want people to ever learn the answer? | [WP] A man holds the key to a secret that mankind has searched tirelessly for, but refuses to share it simply because he is an asshole. | Sometimes it sucks being the only psychic in the world. Well, technically everyone is psychic. They just haven't opened their eyes. I'm different. I'm better. I figured it out, tapped into whatever force allows someone to read minds and predict the future.
So what did I do when I first became a psychic? Mess with charlatans, of course. Tarot card peddlers, palm readers, and other self-proclaimed psychic mediums were the primary targets. I sent many of these people screaming from their own offices and homes, entirely freaked out by my displays of enlightened potential.
That got boring after a while. I wanted to parlay my newfound abilities into something that would actually make my life better. Naturally, gambling was a perfect fit. I was a millionaire in a week. I had more money than I knew what to do with. I was featured on television programs where eager journalists would ask me how I did it. I chalked it up to luck and practice, of course.
Money was one thing, but my psychic talents left me wanting more. I wanted control. Unfortunately, mind control was not a possibility. However, I figured out a way to leverage my enlightenment. By reading their minds, I was able to establish a framework of their needs and wants on both the conscious and subconscious levels. From there, it was easy to manipulate people into doing what I wanted them to do under the guise of doing something for themselves. It was perfect.
Unenlightened humans are my puppets now. I control them and they don't even know it. They are sleepwalking through life, unaware of the potential locked within each of their minds. I am simply giving them some direction, what's so wrong with that?
| "Maria Millas is survived by her husband and doctor Paul. She died on November 3rd after a long battle with skin cancer." I just sit there and read it. Over and over. Technically it's true. She had a battle with cancer, and she died on November 3rd. But she didn't die of cancer. I loved her. I needed her to live. She came into my office that one morning, saying her doctor referred her to me. I devoted my life to healing her. She was a wonderful woman.
It was October 28th. I had been working on an experimental treatment, and it worked. She swallowed one pill. The cancer completely disappeared, along with her symptoms. She was ecstatic. I loved to see her that way. But she wanted to tell people. I told her no. She gave me years of endless love. What did anyone else do for me? On November 3rd, after signs of recovery, she had finally had her suffering ended. |
[WP] Death is a sentient being rather than a concept. | Susan put on her clothes and looked herself over in the mirror before coming downstairs. She caught a glimpse of her daughter about to leave for high school.
"Wait right there young lady!" Susan called out. "What are you supposed to do before you leave?"
Her daughter rolled her eyes and went over to Susan, giving her a kiss on the cheek. They hugged and her daughter ran off to catch the bus. Susan made her way to the kitchen to find her fiancé reviewing his work schedule on his tablet.
"You're up early." Susan commented as she opened the fridge.
"Today there will be air strikes. I estimate a lot of deaths and a lot more family members that will demand my services." He replied in between sips of his coffee. "You doing this one or are you going to delegate it to one of your subordinates?"
Susan found leftovers from last night's dinner. "I'll do this one myself. But I'll be back before our daughter gets home."
She sat at the dinner table and started eating. Food was such a wonderful experience that she found it incredibly ironic too much food could kill people.
"You know, her birthday is coming up. Thought of anything to get her?" Susan asked between bites.
Without looking up from his tablet. "A pony."
"Really now."
"No really a pony."
Susan roller her eyes she finished her meal.
"Give em hell honey." she said as got up and went to the weapon's closet.
Opening the closet she was greeted by her large collection of scythes. Most of them were exactly the same but some were weighted differently or had different designs. They all served the exact same function but Susan just liked different scythes to fit her moods. After selecting one she closed the door and vanished. | Ever since I can remember, I've been told that there was nothing after death. That when people died, they simply just, stop existing. Their body remains, but everything that made them who they were as a personality simply fades away, as death fades in. And i believed it. I mean, why would i ever have had a reason to believe otherwise?
My mother left our family soon after my birth, so my father was the one who watched over me for most of the time i was growing up. I can recall him teaching me about various religions, and about atheism, and evolution. I remember him telling me that i could chose to believe anything i wanted to, and how it wouldn't change his opinion of me; he'd always love me no matter what i believed in. Naturally, i chose atheism. I don't know the fact that he was an atheist had influenced my decision though. From my perspective, atheism just seemed most reasonable to me at the time. I simply didn't know any better.
At the age of 39, my father was put in the hospital after being seriously injured in a construction accident. After i got the news, i left work early, and rushed straight to the hospital, where my father was being treated. There's nothing quite like seeing your father dying on a hospital bed in front of you, completely unable to move or speak. He was paralyzed. The doctor said that whatever happened had caused several places in his spine to shatter, as well as part of his neck. The doctor said that he fell two stories from the top of a construction site, and landed on a large pile of rubble below. At least, that's what his co-workers reported.
I stayed with my father until on January 20^^th , 1973, he took his last breath. I was there with him, comforting him, when suddenly he starts to stare straight ahead towards the wall in front of his bed. It was as though he was staring *at* something, but nobody was there- It was only him and I in that room together. There was something off about his stare though. It wasn't just a blank stare you usually give while your mind starts to wonder. His eyes weren't just blank, i could visibly see absolute terror in his eyes. Soon after he started staring, i saw tears begin to roll down his cheeks, and onto the white sheeting beneath him, creating little dark spots of wetness where they landed. He began moving his scared stare to the other side of his bed, slowly and steadily, as if he was following something. I grabbed his hand, and held it tight in mine in an effort to comfort him, in spite of the fact that he probably couldn't feel my grasp anyways.
His eyes came to a stop, staring at the other side of the bed from where i was kneeling. Then they shot over to me, and back to the other side again. I was confused. Was he trying to tell me something?
His eyes began moving slowly from the other side of the bed, toward the center of his chest. Just before his eyes met the center, he closed them, squeezing out a final tear which seemed to glisten in the light shining on his face from the window across the room.
At this moment, i heard the loud sound of medical equipment beeping, and squealing while the flat-line tone rang through my ears, echoing into my confused mind. Moments later, doctors rushed in, and told me to step out of the room. I was in shock at what was happening, so i didn't know how to respond. They removed me from the room, and closed the door behind them. I stood there, staring at the now closed door for what felt like hours- days... This all happened several years ago, however. It's been quite a long time since my father died, by now.
This all seems very random to be telling you about, but it will all be relevant later.
3 months ago, i was diagnosed with Adenocarcinoma, one of the most common form of esophageal cancer. I was given 2 months to live at the time of my diagnosis. I don't want to go into the details about why I choose not to get the surgery. It's more complicated than I'd like to explain.
Since then, i've been permanently admitted to the hospital, and things have gotten quite strange since my admission. Recently I've been getting unexpected and unannounced visits from someone. I've never met this man before in my life, and at the time, i wasn't to concerned about him. But after a while, i noticed something concerning. None of the nurses remember anyone coming by to see me, nor do they have any records of it. Last night, i got another visit, extremely late at night this time, and it was **FAR** beyond the regular visiting hours. He was standing outside my room window, staring at me... I pressed the "*Call Nurse*" button on the side of my bed, and a nurse came rushing in.
"Could you please ask that man to leave my window? He's starting to worry me." I plead with the nurse.
"Who?"
"That man in the win-..." I stop myself, as i realize the man already left.
"Uhh, oh.. Nevermind.. I guess.. You didnt see that man near my room window when you came in?" I ask.
"Sir, nobody's outside your door, or the window. You just need to try to get some rest for now. Can you try to do that for me?"
I don't say anything for a while. Honestly, i don't remember responding to the nurse at all that night. I think she just walked out after that, but i can't quite remember.
A few weeks have passed since then, and i haven't seen that dark figure in my window since then either. Yesterday, the doctors told me that my condition has been getting worse by the day. They told me that if i have any family members, that they should probably visit before anything happens. I explained to them that i don't have any family anymore, and they just sort of looked at me. I could tell it was an expression of pity, and I don't blame them. I'm an old man, living my last few days in a hospital alone, with nobody by my side to comfort me. They offered to call a priest, so i would have someone to talk to before I... die. But i refused.
Late last night i saw that man again, but this time he wasn't staring at me from the hospital door window. He was standing at the foot of my bed, silently staring down at the ground. He was wearing what looked like a black gown with a hood. There was a black rope tied around his waist, holding his gown against his body. He had sleeves that extended down past his hands on both sides. With this dark figure, came a smell so foul that it would make anyone's stomach turn. The smell cant be accurately described by anything i can think of. It smelled similar to the smell of rotting meat, mixed with the smell of burning hair that left a metallic taste in my mouth after inhaling it.
I frantically tried to yell, but i was unable to produce a sound, due to fear. I sat up, desperately trying to reach for the "Call Nurse" button, but my hand wouldn't move. I just sat there in the stink and darkness, staring at the dark malevolent figure before me. Suddenly, he began to move his arm. He lifted up and revealed a golden pocket watch. He lifted his other arm, revealing his skinny white fingers. His skin was loose around his bones, and had what looked like hundreds of little tiny scars on them. He tapped on the side of the golden pocket watch with his finger, which produced an ear piercing ring that seemed to echo through the room until it clashed against my ears. Then, he began to fade. Soon, he was completely dematerialized, and nothing was there.
Was this the same.. *thing*, that my father saw just before he died?
I finally was able to scream. As nurses rushed in, tears streamed down my face and onto my neck and the pillows beneath me. I explained what happened to them. I told them about everything. The man, the smell, the stopwatch... and yet, none of them believed me. They dismissed it as a simple night terror, or a dream. I knew it wasn't a dream- how could it have been? It was **FAR** to vivid to just be a dream. I know what i saw, and nobody was about to tell me that i imagined it.
I don't think i have much time left on this earth. All i can do now, is wait. I reconsidered that offer one of the nurses gave me about having a pastor or a priest come in to speak with me. It's only a matter of time until the dark figure returns. Now I'm positive that when i see him next, it will be our last encounter. All i can say now, is i wish i could go back. I wish i could go back, and reconsider religion, rather than choosing atheism just to please my father...
I wish i could go back... I wish i could go back.. | |
EDIT: Oh come on guys, I said *incredibly* ridiculous flaw. No need to make it so serious or subtle! Go all out with something outrageous! | [WP] Aliens invade earth, but end up being defeated by an incredibly ridiculous flaw (for example, they're like flies and don't realize you can't fly through windows). | We were ready. As ready as we could be.
When we had first received the transmission, humanity had been jubilant. Contact with alien life. Contact with *intelligent* alien life.
When we managed to translate the message we were less happy. It was a message of hate and genocide. Full of malice and superiority.
We had prepared as best we could, but they had the power to travel the stars. Would mere bullets even stand against them?
On the day of their arrival I sat in a foxhole I had dug with my own hands gripping my grandfather's old shotgun, watching a thousand flaming meteors enter our atmosphere. Where would they land? Where would the first battles be fought?
I heard the first impact in the distance, but I was more interested in the one that seemed to be heading directly for me. I curled up in the base of my pit as it streaked over my head, slamming into the ground beyond with a blast of heat, shaking the ground beneath me.
I cautiously poked me head over the edge, gun ready to fire upon the first sign of movement. I stayed that way for five minutes. Nothing happened. Thirty. The heat from the landing began to cool, and the small fires scattered here and there burned themselves out.
Against my better judgement, I crawled out of my hole and stalked (as best as I could) toward the landing sight.
It was a wreck. Burned to a crisp and crushed near flat, it only vaguely resembled something that could be considered a ship.
I later found that of the one and a half million ships that entered the atmosphere not a single one had actually survived to land. And with that, humanity won its first interstellar war.
-Peter Bosker, veteran of the ten minute war
| "This planet is now ours," said the strange being exiting the spaceship. It had just landed in the middle of a crowded roadway, bringing all traffic to a halt. "We are the Flow. We flow from planet to planet expanding our rightful ruling over the universe."
"You picked the wrong planet!" A man from the crowd yelled, who had exited his car. Running full force toward the Flow representative, several other people followed. The being extended a hand-like appendage and a device materialized, which closely resembled a hair dryer.
"We picked the right planet," the being said, aiming the device toward the incoming protesters. A wide beam was emitted, instantly vaporizing them mid run.
Panic finally set into the crowd. People started running away, while others jumped back in their cars and tried to weave through the other deserted vehicles. The being watched delightfully.
"Drop the weapon!" a voice called. The being turned around and saw dozens of armed military, with their machine guns trained in its direction. The being aimed its weapon toward them, which prompted a barrage of bullets. The bullets disintegrated in the air well before reaching their target.
A few blocks away, a man was driving, his 5 year old daughter buckled in a car seat behind him. *What is going on around here?* He could have sworn he heard bullets. As he approached the area with the spaceship, a car came plowing toward him on the wrong side of the road.
"What the hell!" he said, slamming on the brakes and swerving to the side of the road, crashing into a street sign. "Are you OK?" He asked his daughter, turning around to check on her.
"I'm fine, Daddy," she said. "What's that?" She continued, pointing the the strange being still standing in the doorway of the spaceship, shooting a weapon at onlookers and the military. The man turned back to his car in a panic. He unbuckled his daughter and carried her out of the car.
"We have to go now," he said, trying to remain calm.
"What is that?" The being said, now suddenly standing right next to the man and his daughter.
"It's my daughter," the man said, terrified.
"Give me the daughter." The being reached out toward her.
"You're a big meanie," the girl said.
"Ah! What is that horrifying sound?" The being stepped back, disoriented.
"Leave me and my daddy alone!" The being fell over, a green ooze spilling from its ears.
Several military men made their way to scene. One of them, who had witnessed the altercation, smiled at the girl.
"Thanks, you're a hero!" he said. Just then, the sky darkened. Everyone looked up and saw thousands of spaceships descending into the city. The military man activated his com unit. "Somebody tell me where the closest kindergarten is located."
|
EDIT: Oh come on guys, I said *incredibly* ridiculous flaw. No need to make it so serious or subtle! Go all out with something outrageous! | [WP] Aliens invade earth, but end up being defeated by an incredibly ridiculous flaw (for example, they're like flies and don't realize you can't fly through windows). | I was there for first contact. I was a diplomatic aid with the UN delegation. It was utter panic co-ordinating everything behind the scenes. All of the petty demands from different world leaders. I was constantly on my phone co-ordinating this mess.
It didn't help that the extraterrestrials chose the mojave desert as their landing spot. Putting up wi-fi towers, and all of the communications infrastructure. The whole world wanted to watch.
But we didn't have much choice, it was clear we were outmatched on every level by these beings and their technology. We were lucky that all they wanted was to settle on our land for the moment. But I know my history, that's how the original colonials on plymouth rock started. This time, we were the natives.
This was a soft surrender, we were defeated, and every delegate was trying to prove that they were the biggest ant on the pile. It was sickening. But I had a job to do, and I did it.
The alien ships descended from on high, hundreds of them. They looked like a shoal of metallic jellyfish. The biggest one landed in front of our delegation.
The US president wanted to be first in line to meet our visitors, but then every head of state wanted that. It was then pointed out that they could all be lucky enough to become the first recipients of whatever space disease these creatures carried.
So a diplomatic committee of scientists and diplomats was formed, and guess what, i had to be there too. It was a last minute decision, and not everyone was informed about it. so even as I stood in front of the great big doors of the space ship, my phone vibrated with complaints from the British prime minister. Someone wasn't satisfied with their seating arrangements.
The door opened, and out they stepped. They looked surprisingly like us, except luminsecent green, slightly translucent skin, and antennae. A whole crowd of them came out. It was impossible to tell whether they were armed, or even wearing clothes. Those long flowing membranes could have been robes, or they could have been tendrils. Those could be weird claws, or they could have been laser guns.
They looked slightly unsteady on their feet as they approached. It was unsettling, watching them bump into eachother.
"Hail humans" said one of the creatures in near perfect english.
"Our armies are disembarking, you have no ch..chioice but to surrend.d.d.dd"
The creature stopped in it's tracks, burbling. In fact, they all had stopped. Some fell to their knees. The antennae on their heads had begun to turn a dark shade of black.
"Sooo much noi..se" it cried, before falling head first on the ground.
We didn't understand, it was completely quiet. I looked around, and saw that the other ships had disgorged similarly distressed aliens.
This wasn't going to plan at all, and in front of all of these live cameras. I had to do something, even if it meant getting imminently vaporised.
I walked up to the creature who had spoken to us, and tried to help it up. It looked at me, with an expression that I am sure was disbelief. I grasped its hands, strangely warm, to help it to its feet. Surely, this would be the most important day of my life.
We stood there in that moment, two beings from literally two different worlds, in embrace.
Then my phone rang, and its head exploded.
All of their heads exploded. | "This planet is now ours," said the strange being exiting the spaceship. It had just landed in the middle of a crowded roadway, bringing all traffic to a halt. "We are the Flow. We flow from planet to planet expanding our rightful ruling over the universe."
"You picked the wrong planet!" A man from the crowd yelled, who had exited his car. Running full force toward the Flow representative, several other people followed. The being extended a hand-like appendage and a device materialized, which closely resembled a hair dryer.
"We picked the right planet," the being said, aiming the device toward the incoming protesters. A wide beam was emitted, instantly vaporizing them mid run.
Panic finally set into the crowd. People started running away, while others jumped back in their cars and tried to weave through the other deserted vehicles. The being watched delightfully.
"Drop the weapon!" a voice called. The being turned around and saw dozens of armed military, with their machine guns trained in its direction. The being aimed its weapon toward them, which prompted a barrage of bullets. The bullets disintegrated in the air well before reaching their target.
A few blocks away, a man was driving, his 5 year old daughter buckled in a car seat behind him. *What is going on around here?* He could have sworn he heard bullets. As he approached the area with the spaceship, a car came plowing toward him on the wrong side of the road.
"What the hell!" he said, slamming on the brakes and swerving to the side of the road, crashing into a street sign. "Are you OK?" He asked his daughter, turning around to check on her.
"I'm fine, Daddy," she said. "What's that?" She continued, pointing the the strange being still standing in the doorway of the spaceship, shooting a weapon at onlookers and the military. The man turned back to his car in a panic. He unbuckled his daughter and carried her out of the car.
"We have to go now," he said, trying to remain calm.
"What is that?" The being said, now suddenly standing right next to the man and his daughter.
"It's my daughter," the man said, terrified.
"Give me the daughter." The being reached out toward her.
"You're a big meanie," the girl said.
"Ah! What is that horrifying sound?" The being stepped back, disoriented.
"Leave me and my daddy alone!" The being fell over, a green ooze spilling from its ears.
Several military men made their way to scene. One of them, who had witnessed the altercation, smiled at the girl.
"Thanks, you're a hero!" he said. Just then, the sky darkened. Everyone looked up and saw thousands of spaceships descending into the city. The military man activated his com unit. "Somebody tell me where the closest kindergarten is located."
|
EDIT: Oh come on guys, I said *incredibly* ridiculous flaw. No need to make it so serious or subtle! Go all out with something outrageous! | [WP] Aliens invade earth, but end up being defeated by an incredibly ridiculous flaw (for example, they're like flies and don't realize you can't fly through windows). | I was there for first contact. I was a diplomatic aid with the UN delegation. It was utter panic co-ordinating everything behind the scenes. All of the petty demands from different world leaders. I was constantly on my phone co-ordinating this mess.
It didn't help that the extraterrestrials chose the mojave desert as their landing spot. Putting up wi-fi towers, and all of the communications infrastructure. The whole world wanted to watch.
But we didn't have much choice, it was clear we were outmatched on every level by these beings and their technology. We were lucky that all they wanted was to settle on our land for the moment. But I know my history, that's how the original colonials on plymouth rock started. This time, we were the natives.
This was a soft surrender, we were defeated, and every delegate was trying to prove that they were the biggest ant on the pile. It was sickening. But I had a job to do, and I did it.
The alien ships descended from on high, hundreds of them. They looked like a shoal of metallic jellyfish. The biggest one landed in front of our delegation.
The US president wanted to be first in line to meet our visitors, but then every head of state wanted that. It was then pointed out that they could all be lucky enough to become the first recipients of whatever space disease these creatures carried.
So a diplomatic committee of scientists and diplomats was formed, and guess what, i had to be there too. It was a last minute decision, and not everyone was informed about it. so even as I stood in front of the great big doors of the space ship, my phone vibrated with complaints from the British prime minister. Someone wasn't satisfied with their seating arrangements.
The door opened, and out they stepped. They looked surprisingly like us, except luminsecent green, slightly translucent skin, and antennae. A whole crowd of them came out. It was impossible to tell whether they were armed, or even wearing clothes. Those long flowing membranes could have been robes, or they could have been tendrils. Those could be weird claws, or they could have been laser guns.
They looked slightly unsteady on their feet as they approached. It was unsettling, watching them bump into eachother.
"Hail humans" said one of the creatures in near perfect english.
"Our armies are disembarking, you have no ch..chioice but to surrend.d.d.dd"
The creature stopped in it's tracks, burbling. In fact, they all had stopped. Some fell to their knees. The antennae on their heads had begun to turn a dark shade of black.
"Sooo much noi..se" it cried, before falling head first on the ground.
We didn't understand, it was completely quiet. I looked around, and saw that the other ships had disgorged similarly distressed aliens.
This wasn't going to plan at all, and in front of all of these live cameras. I had to do something, even if it meant getting imminently vaporised.
I walked up to the creature who had spoken to us, and tried to help it up. It looked at me, with an expression that I am sure was disbelief. I grasped its hands, strangely warm, to help it to its feet. Surely, this would be the most important day of my life.
We stood there in that moment, two beings from literally two different worlds, in embrace.
Then my phone rang, and its head exploded.
All of their heads exploded. | We got the first message not five years ago, not five months ago, no, five minutes ago. These aliens were not the kind to give humanity a chance to prepare itself.
During the first minute our satellites and telescopes began to pick them up less than 1 million kilometres from the Earth, before being carved in two by sporadic laser fire. The largest of their ships could just be made out against the background of the Moon as they got closer and closer.
By the second minute the last communications satellites were clouds of debris and vapourised metal, we couldn't even have a worldwide panic attack together anymore. Their ships didn't even need to be directly in front of the Moon to be visible any more, at this point I'd got into my car and started driving.
By the third minute, I was still driving. At regular intervals around the globe, vast vessels slowly dropped into the atmosphere. All the roads were blocked as people tried to drive away from the looming behemoths, but front gardens made alright substitute lanes.
Fourth minute and I'd reached the school. In the playground the kids, most of them crying, had lined up in front of their teachers. Ms Bellamy, the head teacher, was doing miracles stopping the kids from running away. I ran up to the gate and shouted over to my daughter, Melinda.
At the start of the fifth minute the children, teachers and parents were forced into the school by armed police. They'd arrived after gunshots had been heard in the area to ensure the school wasn't attacked. That seemed pretty useless, but when a man can find some purpose in his last few minutes who am I to stop him.
And now we can all hear them again. The first message was quiet, as if they had poised themselves behind everyone's neck and were whispering into our ears. This one boomed through the atmosphere; Melinda buried her head into my chest as our death sentence was spoken.
"Earthlings! We have seen all! We know your wrongdoings and come to bring retribution!" A huddle formed in the centre of the room, surrounded by weeping cops. "Prepare to perish!"
A blinding light engulfed the Earth, screams could be heard from north to south, from eats to west. And then we all stopped screaming, because nothing else had happened. Looking up to the sky we saw what we had thought would be our doom leave the atmosphere, the only proof of their arrival being shocked faces and abandoned cars.
Two days later the message was sent out from a science team in Spain, they'd figured out what had actually happened. 10% of all stomach bacteria had been killed by the attack.
The aliens missed. |
EDIT: Oh come on guys, I said *incredibly* ridiculous flaw. No need to make it so serious or subtle! Go all out with something outrageous! | [WP] Aliens invade earth, but end up being defeated by an incredibly ridiculous flaw (for example, they're like flies and don't realize you can't fly through windows). | I was there for first contact. I was a diplomatic aid with the UN delegation. It was utter panic co-ordinating everything behind the scenes. All of the petty demands from different world leaders. I was constantly on my phone co-ordinating this mess.
It didn't help that the extraterrestrials chose the mojave desert as their landing spot. Putting up wi-fi towers, and all of the communications infrastructure. The whole world wanted to watch.
But we didn't have much choice, it was clear we were outmatched on every level by these beings and their technology. We were lucky that all they wanted was to settle on our land for the moment. But I know my history, that's how the original colonials on plymouth rock started. This time, we were the natives.
This was a soft surrender, we were defeated, and every delegate was trying to prove that they were the biggest ant on the pile. It was sickening. But I had a job to do, and I did it.
The alien ships descended from on high, hundreds of them. They looked like a shoal of metallic jellyfish. The biggest one landed in front of our delegation.
The US president wanted to be first in line to meet our visitors, but then every head of state wanted that. It was then pointed out that they could all be lucky enough to become the first recipients of whatever space disease these creatures carried.
So a diplomatic committee of scientists and diplomats was formed, and guess what, i had to be there too. It was a last minute decision, and not everyone was informed about it. so even as I stood in front of the great big doors of the space ship, my phone vibrated with complaints from the British prime minister. Someone wasn't satisfied with their seating arrangements.
The door opened, and out they stepped. They looked surprisingly like us, except luminsecent green, slightly translucent skin, and antennae. A whole crowd of them came out. It was impossible to tell whether they were armed, or even wearing clothes. Those long flowing membranes could have been robes, or they could have been tendrils. Those could be weird claws, or they could have been laser guns.
They looked slightly unsteady on their feet as they approached. It was unsettling, watching them bump into eachother.
"Hail humans" said one of the creatures in near perfect english.
"Our armies are disembarking, you have no ch..chioice but to surrend.d.d.dd"
The creature stopped in it's tracks, burbling. In fact, they all had stopped. Some fell to their knees. The antennae on their heads had begun to turn a dark shade of black.
"Sooo much noi..se" it cried, before falling head first on the ground.
We didn't understand, it was completely quiet. I looked around, and saw that the other ships had disgorged similarly distressed aliens.
This wasn't going to plan at all, and in front of all of these live cameras. I had to do something, even if it meant getting imminently vaporised.
I walked up to the creature who had spoken to us, and tried to help it up. It looked at me, with an expression that I am sure was disbelief. I grasped its hands, strangely warm, to help it to its feet. Surely, this would be the most important day of my life.
We stood there in that moment, two beings from literally two different worlds, in embrace.
Then my phone rang, and its head exploded.
All of their heads exploded. | We were ready. As ready as we could be.
When we had first received the transmission, humanity had been jubilant. Contact with alien life. Contact with *intelligent* alien life.
When we managed to translate the message we were less happy. It was a message of hate and genocide. Full of malice and superiority.
We had prepared as best we could, but they had the power to travel the stars. Would mere bullets even stand against them?
On the day of their arrival I sat in a foxhole I had dug with my own hands gripping my grandfather's old shotgun, watching a thousand flaming meteors enter our atmosphere. Where would they land? Where would the first battles be fought?
I heard the first impact in the distance, but I was more interested in the one that seemed to be heading directly for me. I curled up in the base of my pit as it streaked over my head, slamming into the ground beyond with a blast of heat, shaking the ground beneath me.
I cautiously poked me head over the edge, gun ready to fire upon the first sign of movement. I stayed that way for five minutes. Nothing happened. Thirty. The heat from the landing began to cool, and the small fires scattered here and there burned themselves out.
Against my better judgement, I crawled out of my hole and stalked (as best as I could) toward the landing sight.
It was a wreck. Burned to a crisp and crushed near flat, it only vaguely resembled something that could be considered a ship.
I later found that of the one and a half million ships that entered the atmosphere not a single one had actually survived to land. And with that, humanity won its first interstellar war.
-Peter Bosker, veteran of the ten minute war
|
Edit: it's awesome to see the reaction to this is pretty positive! I'm currently on the road but I'm anxious to get back and read through all these. | [WP] The government signs into law and begins enforcing "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas". | The roadtrip was her idea, to try and rekindle the fire in our relationship. Don't judge. These days, you're lucky to get a refrigerator to last 10 years, let alone a marriage. I had been suggesting some kinky things ever since sex became an annual holiday between Valentine's day and Tax season, but she wasn't comfortable doing them. Then finally last week, she said it would improve the marriage if we went to Vegas, and she "watched."
Let me tell you. . . Since the law passed, Vegas finally lives up to its moniker of "Sin City." So the rumors go, at least. Everyone "hears stories," but no one admits to anything for fear of 5-to-10. But the stories, the stories. . . Anything you want and everything you didn't know you wanted, with the only limitation being your pocketbook. It's a free market economy for your every desire.
Our troubles aside, yeah, I love my wife. I held the wheel and put my free arm around her shoulder as Vegas came into view, and she was tense. I told her, "Honey, you're the best." She smiled and looked at me, with those same shy eyes I fell in love with. I didn't notice earlier, but she opened the goodie bag. She was playing with the handcuffs like a sexual Rubik's cube. Maybe she would do more than watch after all.
She leaned her head on my shoulder and asked, "Are you ready?"
"I am. Are you?"
"No turning back now."
We passed the Nevada shaped "Now entering Las Vegas" sign, and in one motion, she snapped one cuff on my hand and the other to the steering wheel.
"Both hands on the wheel, fucker."
"What are you doing?!" I was still thinking she was getting frisky when she steered the car to the side, threw it into park and pulled the key from the ignition. Our insurance won't like that. I looked to the highway and the cars looked back, slowing down but none stopping.
"Til death do us part." She got out of the car and in the side mirror I saw her open the gas door and stuff in a shirt from my suitcase.
"Honey, can we talk?"
"You can talk all you want. In fact, here's your phone. Don't say I never did anything for you." She pulled a matchbook from her pocket.
"What makes you think you'll get away with this many witnesses?!"
"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."
Anyway, sorry to blow up your voicemail. Take anything of mine that you want. Tell my family I love them. Burial or cremation. . . it looks like I don't have a choice. | VEGAS 22
“Alright bitches, this is Melanie’s bachelorette and we are all going HARDCORE. No sleeping, no Penn Jillette… just dance floors and pouring champagne in each other’s mouths and making out with Britney back-up dancers. You got that Ashley?” The plane had started its downward descent, but Cara was turned around, her knees in her seat, facing the two rows of penis-necklace bedecked bridesmaids.
Ashley opened her mouth and held up her finger like she was about to say that maybe Cara should turn around, maybe she was going to get them in trouble. But Cara shot her that look Ashley had seen so many times before. That look that told her “you are being one up-tight housemaid 50’s mom bitch right now, so just sit on it, okay?”
“Ashley can be cool,” Ashley thought to herself. “Ashley is with her friends, Ashley is chill as fuck, Ashley is here to party.”
Bridget pushed a flask in to her hands and Ashley swallowed a bolt of purse-warm key lime pie vodka. “Ashley’s chill as fuck. Ashley is here to party!” she said aloud and the ladies cheered.
Melanie was laughing and reaching back to squeeze Ashley’s arm, to high-five her, to let Ashley know that she knew when things were on point, that this was her weekend and nothing was going to fuck it up. Ashley smiled as hard as she could until the attention was off her.
Over the PA the flight attendant roared, “all passengers MUST be FULLY seated with seat-belts SECURE!” Cara threw her flick fingers in the air, but turned around and sat down anyway.
The bridal party didn’t stop laughing until they were on the ground. Shoving back and forth in the aisles, pulling down their bags, pinching and giggling and passing the flask, offering it to squares in suits and old ladies with red visors alike, they were ready.
Striding in to the terminal, imagining themselves in slow-motion, the rows of shops falling down to worship at their feet, dudes in Mass U hoodies peeking over their neon sunglasses and tugging at their crotches, women with lines at their mouth corners weeping at the sight of their shorts, new toenail glitter blinding TSA bots, while miles away bartenders rocked gallon cocktails shakers of lemon gingerini and every bouncer greased their red velvet metal latches for easy entry, the women of Melanie’s Bachelorette Party ’22 had arrived in Las Vegas.
Ahead was the terminal end. A TSA checkpoint and then the glistening automatic doors opening right out on to a strip, The Strip, Las Vegas itself blowing gusts of sultry desert air their way as they passed the sign: “What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas!” Ashley looked over her shoulder. “What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas!” the sign said. She groaned and rubbed her forehead. The TSA agent pulled away the wand and the headset and gave her a smile, “Okay, you’re all set!” Ashley took some teetering steps. Hoo boy, was she hung over.
“Miss? Don’t forget your bags!” The agent, crisp in her wrinkle-free blue uniform, pressed the suitcase handle into her hands. “You better get to your gate!”
Ashley walked toward her gate, smacking her chapped lips against one another, pulling her hair in greasy strands away from her eyes, and pausing every so often to let her stomach stop rolling. She hoped Melanie had a good time. Maybe they had decided to stay another day? Ashley wasn’t sure, she just knew she had a flight to catch.
Collapsing into her seat, Ashley felt like she had probably had a great time. Definitely, she thought. Definitely, probably had a great time. If she ever came back she’d know for sure. She could pick up all those old things that happened, those things left in Vegas. At least for the duration of her visit. She smiled. The memories would be here. They’d stay and wait for her, in Vegas.
|
Edit: it's awesome to see the reaction to this is pretty positive! I'm currently on the road but I'm anxious to get back and read through all these. | [WP] The government signs into law and begins enforcing "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas". | The roadtrip was her idea, to try and rekindle the fire in our relationship. Don't judge. These days, you're lucky to get a refrigerator to last 10 years, let alone a marriage. I had been suggesting some kinky things ever since sex became an annual holiday between Valentine's day and Tax season, but she wasn't comfortable doing them. Then finally last week, she said it would improve the marriage if we went to Vegas, and she "watched."
Let me tell you. . . Since the law passed, Vegas finally lives up to its moniker of "Sin City." So the rumors go, at least. Everyone "hears stories," but no one admits to anything for fear of 5-to-10. But the stories, the stories. . . Anything you want and everything you didn't know you wanted, with the only limitation being your pocketbook. It's a free market economy for your every desire.
Our troubles aside, yeah, I love my wife. I held the wheel and put my free arm around her shoulder as Vegas came into view, and she was tense. I told her, "Honey, you're the best." She smiled and looked at me, with those same shy eyes I fell in love with. I didn't notice earlier, but she opened the goodie bag. She was playing with the handcuffs like a sexual Rubik's cube. Maybe she would do more than watch after all.
She leaned her head on my shoulder and asked, "Are you ready?"
"I am. Are you?"
"No turning back now."
We passed the Nevada shaped "Now entering Las Vegas" sign, and in one motion, she snapped one cuff on my hand and the other to the steering wheel.
"Both hands on the wheel, fucker."
"What are you doing?!" I was still thinking she was getting frisky when she steered the car to the side, threw it into park and pulled the key from the ignition. Our insurance won't like that. I looked to the highway and the cars looked back, slowing down but none stopping.
"Til death do us part." She got out of the car and in the side mirror I saw her open the gas door and stuff in a shirt from my suitcase.
"Honey, can we talk?"
"You can talk all you want. In fact, here's your phone. Don't say I never did anything for you." She pulled a matchbook from her pocket.
"What makes you think you'll get away with this many witnesses?!"
"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."
Anyway, sorry to blow up your voicemail. Take anything of mine that you want. Tell my family I love them. Burial or cremation. . . it looks like I don't have a choice. | Random excerpts from the website Reddit regarding the "What happens in Vegas" law.
May 1
3674 points:
>Wake up sheeple! This is not about Vegas or our protection. This is about the government curtailing our freedom of speech.
May 2
1874 points:
>This law is not the right way to solve the problem of ALCOHOL + STUPID.
May 3
1856 points:
>Are you nuts? How can you be for this law. Have you even read Section X where they have the right to seize any electronic devices that may contain possible Vegas related media!!!
May 4:
AdviceAnimals post 5407 points:
>"Going to Vegas and all Im taking is...."
May 5
3021 points:
>The Vegas law IS NOT all bad. Sure it has some bad parts, but it also provides a valuable protection to many vulnerable young people. The Guvment isn't all bad Reddit.
>GET A GRIP!
May 6
184 points:
>Thank you. I think Reddit has massively over-reacted to this situation. There was a nice bestof post yesterday that gave a more nuanced view of the debate.
May 7
9543 points:
>They're stopping the Jennifer Lawrence nude leaks from Vegas
10,045 points:
>>WE RIOT!!!!!!
.
And they did. |
Edit: it's awesome to see the reaction to this is pretty positive! I'm currently on the road but I'm anxious to get back and read through all these. | [WP] The government signs into law and begins enforcing "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas". | "Good morning, Benjamin."
"Morning, Daddy."
"Whatcha got for breakfast there, son?"
"Some eggs..."
"Yeah? Some eggs and what?"
"Eggs an' toast...."
"Yum! That sounds delicious."
It wasn't. He sat there, pushing it all around with his fork. But he would never say such a thing. He was incredibly courteous, just like his mother.
His mother...
------------------------
The fumes of champagne were cloaked by the sinfully sweet icing- she would have scoured to the ends of Earth to get that icing, if she'd had to. Vitality and cheers mingled in the brisk evening air.... I can still remember it like it was yesterday. Even her second cousins swooped in. All the way from fucking New Zealand, Christ. But they definitely got their money's worth; she was incomprehensibly beautiful on that day. Our day.
The celebration was all good and fun for the guests. Of course, to her, it was something out of dream. But she knew that I didn't care much for formal social gatherings, which was why, by the time we had returned our last exchange of farewells, we were already packed and ready for Vegas -- the honeymoon mecca for couples like us.
I can't remember much from the trip. They stole that from me. All I know is that Benjamin was conceived then.
-------
"Hey, Daddy..."
"Hey, Son."
"Where's Mommy?"
"I... I told you, Son. She got a little lost... when she was looking for you."
"I remember... Is she still lost?"
"No, Son. She's just...."
The connection dropped.
I sat there for a good 10 minutes, hoping he would come back to me. He didn't. He never does. They only give me 60 seconds, once a week. Just enough to know he's still alive. | Troy stopped just short of the barricade. The blue and yellow lights of the border police lit up the entrance to the subway. A large sign above the entrance flashed '*You are now entering New New Vegas*'. Troy licked his lips. It was one thing to get *into* New New Vegas, and it was an entirely different thing to get *out.*
The armored police stopped a group of Humans and began to scan them. A brief moment later and they were waved through. Troy slipped through the barricade and walked for the entrance. Somebody pulled on his sleeve and Troy looked back to see a beggar. He was hunched over and he was missing a leg. The beggar shook his head.
"Don't be goin' in there, lad. You don' want ta know what it's like in hell."
Troy patted the man on the shoulder. "I'm okay, buddy. It's not my first trip."
The beggar recoiled at his touch. "Hands off! Yer dirty! Yer contaminated, yer stained!"
An officer shoved past a trio of Venetians and stepped in front of me. He pushed the beggar back, which caused him to lose his balance and fall. The officer held up a baton that had seemingly magically appeared. "Get back, Wilson. Let the man make his own decision."
Wilson hissed and began to crawl backward. He pointed a dirty finger at the officer. "You will all pay for what yer doin' in there! They're comin' back, they're comin' back to take their city!" The officer followed him back to the barricade and Troy continued on his way.
The truth was that he'd never actually been in New New Vegas before. The beggar's prophecy unnerved him, but he held his head high and approached the subway entrance.
The group of armored officers stepped forward and Troy complied with their directions. Head up, eyes closed, hands kept open, mouth open. After the scan and search, one of the officer's patted Troy on the shoulder. "You are entering New New Vegas with one shirt, one pant, two socks, two shoes each with shoe-laces, one pocket-knife, all limbs and digits, and a full set of teeth. You must check in with Vegas border police before exiting to ensure you have nothing more or less on your exit out. Good luck in there, kid."
Troy began the descent.
The ground was clean and the marbled stairs were shining. He got halfway down and stopped at a large sign. It read '*New New Vegas welcomes you! "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!" Failure to comply will result in termination.'* A thick, yellow line ran horizontally along the floor to the walls, then up the walls to the ceiling, and across the ceiling, creating a complete square. Beyond the yellow line, the shining marbled stairs were cracked and covered in dirt and vines. The walls were coated in a black substance that seemed to shift ever so slowly.
Troy cast one more glance back. One of the officers was staring into the subway. He turned his back. Troy stepped over the line.
One hour later, Troy had traversed the dark subway tunnels until finally he emerged onto the platform for the subway. It was dark, illuminated only by one solitary light that hung above the tracks. The hour-long trek had accustomed Troy to the darkness, and he looked around, his eyes searching for signs of life. Somebody was slumped against the farthest pillar to the right. A group of humanoids were standing tightly together, back-to-back in a circle. Their eyes glinted in the dim light. He saw several others, but nobody else. He found a secluded spot and sat down, darkness enveloping him as he sat still.
The murmur of conversation filled the dead silence, and Troy let his mind wander. He thought briefly of the beggar, Wilson. Troy had heard rumors of what happened inside New New Vegas. Some thought it was a torture camp, where people were imprisoned and tortured. It didn't make sense, because Troy knew people who had gone on multiple visits. Others thought it was not unlike paradise. You could do anything and be anybody you like. Some speculated that it was simply as Vegas always was: a city of sin and pleasure and loss and pain all rolled into one. Whatever it was, those who had been couldn't talk about it. They would simply shake their head and say "you gotta check it out for yourself. Sorry."
The rattle and dull roar of a train brought Troy back to reality and he stood up, heart pumping. He cleared his throat. "Anybody ever been here before?"
The sound of the rattling train grew louder. A couple of seconds later, a loud voice rose above the train. "No."
Troy shoved his hands into his pockets and waited. |
Edit: it's awesome to see the reaction to this is pretty positive! I'm currently on the road but I'm anxious to get back and read through all these. | [WP] The government signs into law and begins enforcing "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas". | Simon was halfway through a load of dishes when the knock came. His daughter Madeline glanced up at him with a cock-eyed grin on her face and bolted for the front door. She loved visitors at her age and everyone who came past the threshold was immediately a potential friend. He chased after her, dripping water from his hands, as the knock came a second time. This one was urgent; demanding of immediate attention.
"Maddy, don't you dare..." He said, a little too late as the child flipped the lock and pulled the door open.
Two men stood behind the storm door, both with stoic expressions stitched on their faces and neither looked to be selling cookies or bibles. The older man pulled the storm door open and stepped inside before Simon could shoo Madeline away.
"Can I help you?" Simon pushed forward, his gut telling him something was wrong.
"Are you Simon Winfred?" The younger man asked. He glanced at the paperwork he'd been holding in his hands as if to check a name.
"I'm Simon Brown. No one lives here by Winfred. Can I help you?" He asked again glancing back at where his daughter played by a stack of toys. She smiled up at him when she noticed him looking and returned to the horse with the tattered mane.
"May we step inside?" The older man said, flashing a badge.
"It's important." The second man said attempting a disarming smile.
"Please." Simon ushered both inside. Seeing the badge helped his nerves, but did nothing for the knot in his gut.
He sat the two men on the sofa across from him, offering them something to drink which they both politely declined. Only then did he sit, somewhat tenuously, at the edge of the sofa while frantically texting his wife to come home.
"I'm Mr. Wilson and my partner is Mr. Moore. We're sorry to have to bother you at home, but we're trying to track down someone. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" Mr. Wilson asked.
"Of course. Anything to help, but what does this have to do with me?" Simon asked.
"We'll get to that." Wilson said, flipping open a manila binder. "Now, do you know anyone by the name of Darrel Winfred?"
Simon shook his head.
"How about Margaret Camp?"
"She's my mother." Simon said. "Is she ok?"
Mr. Wilson nodded and turned to his partner. A look passed between the two and Mr. Moore stood up and left the room.
"She's fine." Wilson said. "What do you know about your father, Simon?"
"Dad? He died about seven years ago, why?"
Mr. Wilson again referred to the manila folder. "Not according to this. It says here that you were conceived by one Margaret Camp and Darrel Winfred about thirty odd years ago. Do you have any siblings, Mr. Winfred?"
"Stop calling me that and no, I don't. My father was Daniel Camp and he died seven years ago. My mother never would've cheated on him. She loved him and still does. I'm sorry I can't help you, but you've obviously made a mistake..."
"We don't make mistakes, Mr. Winfred." Wilson lost his smile. "Are you aware of the Vegas act?"
"Yes, but..."
"Then you understand the situation we've been put in. You see, we have records that you, Simon Winfred, were conceived in the MGM Grand Casino by one Margaret Camp and Darrel Winfred. Whatever skeleton's she's been keeping in the closet are between you and her. For now, all you need to know is that *you*, Mr. Winfred, now fall under the Vegas Act. We're going to need you to pack a bag and come with us." Wilson smiled.
"You can't do this!" Simon screamed.
He stood up only to find a pair of strong hands gripping him by the arms. The hands forced him to the ground and out of the corner of his eyes he could see another man scooping up his daughter.
"Leave her alone! You can't do this!" Simon screamed again, clawing against the ground. He felt something sharp stick into his thigh and the room began to spin.
Mr. Wilson leaned in, close enough that he could smell the scent of peppermint on his breath. *"What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas Mr. Winfred."*
| Troy stopped just short of the barricade. The blue and yellow lights of the border police lit up the entrance to the subway. A large sign above the entrance flashed '*You are now entering New New Vegas*'. Troy licked his lips. It was one thing to get *into* New New Vegas, and it was an entirely different thing to get *out.*
The armored police stopped a group of Humans and began to scan them. A brief moment later and they were waved through. Troy slipped through the barricade and walked for the entrance. Somebody pulled on his sleeve and Troy looked back to see a beggar. He was hunched over and he was missing a leg. The beggar shook his head.
"Don't be goin' in there, lad. You don' want ta know what it's like in hell."
Troy patted the man on the shoulder. "I'm okay, buddy. It's not my first trip."
The beggar recoiled at his touch. "Hands off! Yer dirty! Yer contaminated, yer stained!"
An officer shoved past a trio of Venetians and stepped in front of me. He pushed the beggar back, which caused him to lose his balance and fall. The officer held up a baton that had seemingly magically appeared. "Get back, Wilson. Let the man make his own decision."
Wilson hissed and began to crawl backward. He pointed a dirty finger at the officer. "You will all pay for what yer doin' in there! They're comin' back, they're comin' back to take their city!" The officer followed him back to the barricade and Troy continued on his way.
The truth was that he'd never actually been in New New Vegas before. The beggar's prophecy unnerved him, but he held his head high and approached the subway entrance.
The group of armored officers stepped forward and Troy complied with their directions. Head up, eyes closed, hands kept open, mouth open. After the scan and search, one of the officer's patted Troy on the shoulder. "You are entering New New Vegas with one shirt, one pant, two socks, two shoes each with shoe-laces, one pocket-knife, all limbs and digits, and a full set of teeth. You must check in with Vegas border police before exiting to ensure you have nothing more or less on your exit out. Good luck in there, kid."
Troy began the descent.
The ground was clean and the marbled stairs were shining. He got halfway down and stopped at a large sign. It read '*New New Vegas welcomes you! "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!" Failure to comply will result in termination.'* A thick, yellow line ran horizontally along the floor to the walls, then up the walls to the ceiling, and across the ceiling, creating a complete square. Beyond the yellow line, the shining marbled stairs were cracked and covered in dirt and vines. The walls were coated in a black substance that seemed to shift ever so slowly.
Troy cast one more glance back. One of the officers was staring into the subway. He turned his back. Troy stepped over the line.
One hour later, Troy had traversed the dark subway tunnels until finally he emerged onto the platform for the subway. It was dark, illuminated only by one solitary light that hung above the tracks. The hour-long trek had accustomed Troy to the darkness, and he looked around, his eyes searching for signs of life. Somebody was slumped against the farthest pillar to the right. A group of humanoids were standing tightly together, back-to-back in a circle. Their eyes glinted in the dim light. He saw several others, but nobody else. He found a secluded spot and sat down, darkness enveloping him as he sat still.
The murmur of conversation filled the dead silence, and Troy let his mind wander. He thought briefly of the beggar, Wilson. Troy had heard rumors of what happened inside New New Vegas. Some thought it was a torture camp, where people were imprisoned and tortured. It didn't make sense, because Troy knew people who had gone on multiple visits. Others thought it was not unlike paradise. You could do anything and be anybody you like. Some speculated that it was simply as Vegas always was: a city of sin and pleasure and loss and pain all rolled into one. Whatever it was, those who had been couldn't talk about it. They would simply shake their head and say "you gotta check it out for yourself. Sorry."
The rattle and dull roar of a train brought Troy back to reality and he stood up, heart pumping. He cleared his throat. "Anybody ever been here before?"
The sound of the rattling train grew louder. A couple of seconds later, a loud voice rose above the train. "No."
Troy shoved his hands into his pockets and waited. |
Edit: it's awesome to see the reaction to this is pretty positive! I'm currently on the road but I'm anxious to get back and read through all these. | [WP] The government signs into law and begins enforcing "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas". | "Good morning, Benjamin."
"Morning, Daddy."
"Whatcha got for breakfast there, son?"
"Some eggs..."
"Yeah? Some eggs and what?"
"Eggs an' toast...."
"Yum! That sounds delicious."
It wasn't. He sat there, pushing it all around with his fork. But he would never say such a thing. He was incredibly courteous, just like his mother.
His mother...
------------------------
The fumes of champagne were cloaked by the sinfully sweet icing- she would have scoured to the ends of Earth to get that icing, if she'd had to. Vitality and cheers mingled in the brisk evening air.... I can still remember it like it was yesterday. Even her second cousins swooped in. All the way from fucking New Zealand, Christ. But they definitely got their money's worth; she was incomprehensibly beautiful on that day. Our day.
The celebration was all good and fun for the guests. Of course, to her, it was something out of dream. But she knew that I didn't care much for formal social gatherings, which was why, by the time we had returned our last exchange of farewells, we were already packed and ready for Vegas -- the honeymoon mecca for couples like us.
I can't remember much from the trip. They stole that from me. All I know is that Benjamin was conceived then.
-------
"Hey, Daddy..."
"Hey, Son."
"Where's Mommy?"
"I... I told you, Son. She got a little lost... when she was looking for you."
"I remember... Is she still lost?"
"No, Son. She's just...."
The connection dropped.
I sat there for a good 10 minutes, hoping he would come back to me. He didn't. He never does. They only give me 60 seconds, once a week. Just enough to know he's still alive. | It was work. The man told me to push, so I did, but as I did, I screamed. Screaming made it only slightly more bareable. Running out of breath, I stopped just momentarily, before wanting to try again. I didn't feel movement from my efforts, but I knew there had to be some, because the man just stared and reassured me. Sweat was pouring down my face from hours of difficult labor, and I was hurting more than I ever had in my entire life.
Chris stood next to me, urging me on since this was one task that he couldn't help me with like he had so many others. I hated his sweat-free brow right then. It was his fault I was here. If it wasn't for his actions many months ago, I wouldn't be pushing until every inch of my body felt like it was being pushed beyond all possible limits. He was smiling at me, the bastard. I thought about punching him in his joyful smile, and that helped me push harder.
Finally I felt it move and almost fall away. Chris moved to get a better look, and the man spoke words to him while I almost passed out from a mix of exhaustion and pain. I was done. They gave me the fruit of my labor and the man walked out the room. I knew where he was going, and I began to cry. Mine and Chris's honeymoon had been nine months ago in Las Vegas, and what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. The woman from whichever act had bid the highest, Circus Circus from the looks of her, came into the room and took my newborn son away from me.
*edit for some spelling and to also note that this is my first prompt, please be gentle :) |
Edit: it's awesome to see the reaction to this is pretty positive! I'm currently on the road but I'm anxious to get back and read through all these. | [WP] The government signs into law and begins enforcing "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas". | Simon was halfway through a load of dishes when the knock came. His daughter Madeline glanced up at him with a cock-eyed grin on her face and bolted for the front door. She loved visitors at her age and everyone who came past the threshold was immediately a potential friend. He chased after her, dripping water from his hands, as the knock came a second time. This one was urgent; demanding of immediate attention.
"Maddy, don't you dare..." He said, a little too late as the child flipped the lock and pulled the door open.
Two men stood behind the storm door, both with stoic expressions stitched on their faces and neither looked to be selling cookies or bibles. The older man pulled the storm door open and stepped inside before Simon could shoo Madeline away.
"Can I help you?" Simon pushed forward, his gut telling him something was wrong.
"Are you Simon Winfred?" The younger man asked. He glanced at the paperwork he'd been holding in his hands as if to check a name.
"I'm Simon Brown. No one lives here by Winfred. Can I help you?" He asked again glancing back at where his daughter played by a stack of toys. She smiled up at him when she noticed him looking and returned to the horse with the tattered mane.
"May we step inside?" The older man said, flashing a badge.
"It's important." The second man said attempting a disarming smile.
"Please." Simon ushered both inside. Seeing the badge helped his nerves, but did nothing for the knot in his gut.
He sat the two men on the sofa across from him, offering them something to drink which they both politely declined. Only then did he sit, somewhat tenuously, at the edge of the sofa while frantically texting his wife to come home.
"I'm Mr. Wilson and my partner is Mr. Moore. We're sorry to have to bother you at home, but we're trying to track down someone. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" Mr. Wilson asked.
"Of course. Anything to help, but what does this have to do with me?" Simon asked.
"We'll get to that." Wilson said, flipping open a manila binder. "Now, do you know anyone by the name of Darrel Winfred?"
Simon shook his head.
"How about Margaret Camp?"
"She's my mother." Simon said. "Is she ok?"
Mr. Wilson nodded and turned to his partner. A look passed between the two and Mr. Moore stood up and left the room.
"She's fine." Wilson said. "What do you know about your father, Simon?"
"Dad? He died about seven years ago, why?"
Mr. Wilson again referred to the manila folder. "Not according to this. It says here that you were conceived by one Margaret Camp and Darrel Winfred about thirty odd years ago. Do you have any siblings, Mr. Winfred?"
"Stop calling me that and no, I don't. My father was Daniel Camp and he died seven years ago. My mother never would've cheated on him. She loved him and still does. I'm sorry I can't help you, but you've obviously made a mistake..."
"We don't make mistakes, Mr. Winfred." Wilson lost his smile. "Are you aware of the Vegas act?"
"Yes, but..."
"Then you understand the situation we've been put in. You see, we have records that you, Simon Winfred, were conceived in the MGM Grand Casino by one Margaret Camp and Darrel Winfred. Whatever skeleton's she's been keeping in the closet are between you and her. For now, all you need to know is that *you*, Mr. Winfred, now fall under the Vegas Act. We're going to need you to pack a bag and come with us." Wilson smiled.
"You can't do this!" Simon screamed.
He stood up only to find a pair of strong hands gripping him by the arms. The hands forced him to the ground and out of the corner of his eyes he could see another man scooping up his daughter.
"Leave her alone! You can't do this!" Simon screamed again, clawing against the ground. He felt something sharp stick into his thigh and the room began to spin.
Mr. Wilson leaned in, close enough that he could smell the scent of peppermint on his breath. *"What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas Mr. Winfred."*
| I've read the history books of course. Everyone has to take at least a rudimentary history course in school and there's usually a small section about the early United States. I even saw a museum exhibit once that had pictures of Old Las Vegas. Signs lit up, casinos in full swing, people dressed in their finest smiling and laughing with one another. It's hard to realize that at one point Las Vegas was somewhere people wanted to go.
I even learned that "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" was something people said with a wink and a laugh. Now it's just a murmur of fear. Everyone knows at least one person who has gone to Vegas. No one knows anyone who's returned. Visitors are not allowed. They have told us it's for the patients own good and loved ones can only lead them further away from their healing. The kindest thing we can do for those who are taken to Vegas is to forget them.
Of course, the government has told us it's for our own good. They need one place to bring the troublemakers, the murderers, the potential terrorists. In order to achieve the peace and tranquility we have now there has to be some way to corral those who would instigate chaos. We've all been told that it's not a prison. The people taken there are treated fairly, given the mental help they need to become good citizens again. That once someone is taken there and treated they don't want to leave. They stay to help the incoming troublemakers. It's a remarkable system and we should be proud our government instituted it. They've shown us pictures of what the old prisons were like and promised this is a more humane solution.
From a young age all the adults drill into the children's minds not to be afraid of Vegas. All you have to do is behave and you won't ever need to fear going there. Just do your homework on time, listen to your parents, finish your education, accept and do well in the job chosen for you, marry the partner you're provided and raise the children given to you. As long as you don't step outside the life you're assigned, you will never need to know the terrors of being ripped from your home at night by the Peace Keepers.
They call the men in blue "Peace Keepers". They're the ones who run Vegas and are in charge of rounding up those who stray too far from their path. They are a constant fixture in every community but never really part of it. You can see them everywhere but if you try to strike up a conversation they end it quickly with a polite but firm "I am watching". They are also the ones in charge of enforcing the rehabilitation in Vegas.
I try my best to stay on the right path. Sometimes I can't help my thoughts though. I'll be at my office working as an accountant when I start to daydream about what life as a doctor would have been like. Or my husband I and will be having dinner with our friends and I'll blush when I realize I was staring too long at the muscular arm's of my friend's husband. One day I even realized that I was sad to be a mother so soon. It would have been nice to have a few years to myself. These are dangerous thoughts and I need to work on not letting them creep in. Even though the Peace Keepers promise Vegas is good for us and that it can help people I still know that no one has ever come back to verify that. It's scary to think of everything the government could be doing with their "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" laws. But idle thoughts like that serve no purpose in our society and I must continue to remind myself of that. |
Edit: it's awesome to see the reaction to this is pretty positive! I'm currently on the road but I'm anxious to get back and read through all these. | [WP] The government signs into law and begins enforcing "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas". | “The last bastion of freedom”, what a crock. An immense conglomeration of steel and concrete surrounding a beacon of blinding light stood alone in the desert sand. We’de been travelling for weeks trying to reach it, now that it was within reach I felt an uneasy chill crawl up my spine. “It’s there Christian, we can make it tonight!” My brother was eager, nieve. Ever since the uprising any kind of hope was something. “Tomorrow” I said, “we’ll make camp here for the night.”
When the shit finally hit the fan martial law had been in full effect. The government had locked down all vice, and enforced rule of law with an iron fist backed by a militarized police force. Money, power, isolation, and twenty feet of reinforced concrete defenses allowed Las Vegas to be spared. “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”, if you could make it there. The highest ranking political officials could come and go as they pleased, the city-state’s independence hung on a little loose diplomacy. For us stiffs it was a one way trip.
The morning was cool and dry, but you could feel the heat building in the sand. I turned to my brother, “This is it John, we can still turn back.” “To what?” he replied, “That shithole complex, where we can barely afford to eat? Our 18 hour shifts at the mill? No fucking way, lets go.” I shuffled my feet in the sand, put my head down, and started walking. When we reached the gate there was a long line outside. The shells of people who were something before it all fell apart were standing in a row like barn animals waiting for inspection. We all had one thing in common, desperation.
They let in groups forty at a time. The guards were all wearing full riot gear and carried assault rifles. “Step forward on to the platform!”, one of them yelled. We all crammed onto a structure squared off with red paint and then it began to rise. When we reached the holding chamber we were motioned out. John looked pale and his eyes were darting around nervously. “What do you think this is about Christian?”, he muttered. “Im not sure” I answered, “probably just a security check”. Two armed guards pulled us out one by one into a white walled room where a robotic arm scanned and probed for abnormalities. When it was my turn I looked at my brother for the last time, “I’ll see you on the other side bro.” He cracked a dull smile behind the obvious nausea.
From the white room came a white cell. From the white cell came chrome chains. The city is something of such sheer magnitude and glory that it is barely comprehensible and it is all maintained by the largest slave army on the planet. The women go to the kitchens, if they are lucky, most end up in brothels. If you play your cards right you might end up a dealer, the highest aspiration of a chrome chain. I sweep the streets in a chain gang tied to a three ton wretch of a robot. The view ain’t bad if you get a chance to look up from the vomit and blood stained pavement. I haven't seen my brother since we arrived. Its been almost a year now. “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”, I hope for the love of god it’s not true.
* edit for tense issues. | "What the fuck do you mean i cant bring my wife home?"
"Sorry sir, those are the rules."
"What rules?"
"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas"
"The fuck are you talking about? Those aren't rules, its just a saying"
"Not anymore. That us now a law and if you want your wife you have to stay in Vegas."
"If we want to get drunk and end up getring married, then goddammit let my wife come home with me."
"Sir,sir. She's gone."
"Oh, my god thank you. I thought i was going to be fucked. Chappels should not be anywhere near The Strip."
"Relax. The government knows this stuff happens, thats why this law was put into place. Your welcome." |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | Take a number and stand in line. You will be issued a personal bar code and uniform.
Remember your code, it is now your identity.
Personal identifiers are prohibited.
| *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | The time for war had come. Once like them, Demetrius knew the refugees only wanted only to be left alone. A citizen now, Demetrius had his orders: kill the refugees. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | I ran out of cash bribing the medic for Jim Kaiser’s eyes. I tried talking her down on his heart but she won’t budge. Dad will have to wait. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | 10-12-2024: Hunger pains for whole group now. Four days since the farmhouse. Josh is infected. Still no signs of wildlife. I miss hearing birdsongs. Four bullets left, only three after Josh. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | We had congress again today. An alarm woke us when it was still dark out, weapons were shoved into our small hands, and the debate began with a loud bang. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | You woke up. You went to work. You kissed your wife. You did everything just like you always do. That was always going to be the plan. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | I guess I adjusted to the changes as well as anyone. The big things really didn’t matter – life goes on. But I miss the days when tap water was *cold.* | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | If only mother was here to enjoy the moonlight for the last time. Before the migration we would sit for hours under the stars. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | Time there was, once; upon it the world turned. 'Evenfall' they called it - such a beautiful name for the end - where time just unravelled like a severed piece of string. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | "Citizen 32754, it has come to the Ministry of Correction's attention that you have exhausted your use to the state. Please proceed to your left to be dealt with accordingly." | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | As I step out into the morning air, my instinct tells me "it's good to be alive."
Yet... I know for a fact that it isn't.
EDITED: Because I'm tired and part of it didn't make sense :P | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | I always thought it would be the cockroaches or the cats. Our machines even, I would say, had you asked me 20 years ago. Then the raccoons took Reykjavik.
edit: changed that second sentence to better reflect the dependent clause. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | In, re-educated, out. In, re-educated, out. No repeat offenders. Tuesday, in, catastrophic failure. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | A young girl, mesmerized by the carnival, walks up to a game booth. "Bullseye!" she exclaims, gun in hand. Passersby cheer as blood flows down the elderly man's forehead. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | You know what I noticed about the apocalypse? Same as Vincent Vega noticed about Europe. The little things. It didn’t come all at once. The apocalypse was super gradual. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | The street outside didn't know where I was and neither did my house.
A Google social engineer would be here to address the problem in the next 10 minutes. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | He was two days shy of his 40th birthday, and still a virgin. As a white man, he couldn't afford the 500% tax for a sex license. In fact, as a white man, he couldn't afford much of anything. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | *Everyone* smiled and merrily went about their way. Streets were clean. No violence. No illness. Everyone *always* smiled.
I rubbed my eyes. *Something... something's—*.
A twitch.
I smiled. | *Warm, soft sunlight hit the sleeping rooms window, fracturing the beam into all colours of the rainbow. Thebes smiled holding her and knew: all was well.*
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[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | The time for war had come. Once like them, Demetrius knew the refugees only wanted only to be left alone. A citizen now, Demetrius had his orders: kill the refugees. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | I ran out of cash bribing the medic for Jim Kaiser’s eyes. I tried talking her down on his heart but she won’t budge. Dad will have to wait. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | 10-12-2024: Hunger pains for whole group now. Four days since the farmhouse. Josh is infected. Still no signs of wildlife. I miss hearing birdsongs. Four bullets left, only three after Josh. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | We had congress again today. An alarm woke us when it was still dark out, weapons were shoved into our small hands, and the debate began with a loud bang. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | You woke up. You went to work. You kissed your wife. You did everything just like you always do. That was always going to be the plan. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | I guess I adjusted to the changes as well as anyone. The big things really didn’t matter – life goes on. But I miss the days when tap water was *cold.* | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | If only mother was here to enjoy the moonlight for the last time. Before the migration we would sit for hours under the stars. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | Time there was, once; upon it the world turned. 'Evenfall' they called it - such a beautiful name for the end - where time just unravelled like a severed piece of string. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | "Citizen 32754, it has come to the Ministry of Correction's attention that you have exhausted your use to the state. Please proceed to your left to be dealt with accordingly." | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | I always thought it would be the cockroaches or the cats. Our machines even, I would say, had you asked me 20 years ago. Then the raccoons took Reykjavik.
edit: changed that second sentence to better reflect the dependent clause. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | In, re-educated, out. In, re-educated, out. No repeat offenders. Tuesday, in, catastrophic failure. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | A young girl, mesmerized by the carnival, walks up to a game booth. "Bullseye!" she exclaims, gun in hand. Passersby cheer as blood flows down the elderly man's forehead. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | The street outside didn't know where I was and neither did my house.
A Google social engineer would be here to address the problem in the next 10 minutes. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | He was two days shy of his 40th birthday, and still a virgin. As a white man, he couldn't afford the 500% tax for a sex license. In fact, as a white man, he couldn't afford much of anything. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | *Everyone* smiled and merrily went about their way. Streets were clean. No violence. No illness. Everyone *always* smiled.
I rubbed my eyes. *Something... something's—*.
A twitch.
I smiled. | The seasons grew a little longer each year, until there was a whole year of spring and one of summer, then in fall the end of mankind followed. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | The time for war had come. Once like them, Demetrius knew the refugees only wanted only to be left alone. A citizen now, Demetrius had his orders: kill the refugees. | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | I ran out of cash bribing the medic for Jim Kaiser’s eyes. I tried talking her down on his heart but she won’t budge. Dad will have to wait. | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | 10-12-2024: Hunger pains for whole group now. Four days since the farmhouse. Josh is infected. Still no signs of wildlife. I miss hearing birdsongs. Four bullets left, only three after Josh. | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | We had congress again today. An alarm woke us when it was still dark out, weapons were shoved into our small hands, and the debate began with a loud bang. | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | You woke up. You went to work. You kissed your wife. You did everything just like you always do. That was always going to be the plan. | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | I guess I adjusted to the changes as well as anyone. The big things really didn’t matter – life goes on. But I miss the days when tap water was *cold.* | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | If only mother was here to enjoy the moonlight for the last time. Before the migration we would sit for hours under the stars. | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | Time there was, once; upon it the world turned. 'Evenfall' they called it - such a beautiful name for the end - where time just unravelled like a severed piece of string. | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | "Citizen 32754, it has come to the Ministry of Correction's attention that you have exhausted your use to the state. Please proceed to your left to be dealt with accordingly." | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | I always thought it would be the cockroaches or the cats. Our machines even, I would say, had you asked me 20 years ago. Then the raccoons took Reykjavik.
edit: changed that second sentence to better reflect the dependent clause. | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | In, re-educated, out. In, re-educated, out. No repeat offenders. Tuesday, in, catastrophic failure. | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | A young girl, mesmerized by the carnival, walks up to a game booth. "Bullseye!" she exclaims, gun in hand. Passersby cheer as blood flows down the elderly man's forehead. | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | He was two days shy of his 40th birthday, and still a virgin. As a white man, he couldn't afford the 500% tax for a sex license. In fact, as a white man, he couldn't afford much of anything. | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | *Everyone* smiled and merrily went about their way. Streets were clean. No violence. No illness. Everyone *always* smiled.
I rubbed my eyes. *Something... something's—*.
A twitch.
I smiled. | Winston stood looking at the last city, in the last country. The sky was bleak, and the buildings were grey, and the machines were preparing to process their human quarry. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | I ran out of cash bribing the medic for Jim Kaiser’s eyes. I tried talking her down on his heart but she won’t budge. Dad will have to wait. | Hungry morning in the Atlantic. Elise stumbled from the belly of the ship into the expanse of salt-mud. Several metres away, a cormorant struggled to escape a sinkpit. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | 10-12-2024: Hunger pains for whole group now. Four days since the farmhouse. Josh is infected. Still no signs of wildlife. I miss hearing birdsongs. Four bullets left, only three after Josh. | Hungry morning in the Atlantic. Elise stumbled from the belly of the ship into the expanse of salt-mud. Several metres away, a cormorant struggled to escape a sinkpit. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | We had congress again today. An alarm woke us when it was still dark out, weapons were shoved into our small hands, and the debate began with a loud bang. | Hungry morning in the Atlantic. Elise stumbled from the belly of the ship into the expanse of salt-mud. Several metres away, a cormorant struggled to escape a sinkpit. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | You woke up. You went to work. You kissed your wife. You did everything just like you always do. That was always going to be the plan. | Hungry morning in the Atlantic. Elise stumbled from the belly of the ship into the expanse of salt-mud. Several metres away, a cormorant struggled to escape a sinkpit. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | I guess I adjusted to the changes as well as anyone. The big things really didn’t matter – life goes on. But I miss the days when tap water was *cold.* | Hungry morning in the Atlantic. Elise stumbled from the belly of the ship into the expanse of salt-mud. Several metres away, a cormorant struggled to escape a sinkpit. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | If only mother was here to enjoy the moonlight for the last time. Before the migration we would sit for hours under the stars. | Hungry morning in the Atlantic. Elise stumbled from the belly of the ship into the expanse of salt-mud. Several metres away, a cormorant struggled to escape a sinkpit. | |
[FF] In under 30 words, write an enticing start to a novel establishing a dystopian society | Time there was, once; upon it the world turned. 'Evenfall' they called it - such a beautiful name for the end - where time just unravelled like a severed piece of string. | Hungry morning in the Atlantic. Elise stumbled from the belly of the ship into the expanse of salt-mud. Several metres away, a cormorant struggled to escape a sinkpit. |
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