Split (1)

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	[WP] Most people have a shoulder angel and devil advising them. You have a shoulder robot and Elder God.	Medicine school teaches you how to learn 2 physiology volumes in a fortnight , shows you how to handle delicate situations and it even makes you get over your fear of seeing a decapitated head on a table during your first year of university. However it does not give you any advice if paranormal forces are involved. And so Samantha was stuck with Tartuffe, a 2 inch red bodied imp sitting on her left shoulder, and Achilles, a winged robot of the same size as his companion, sitting on the right shoulder. At the age of 35 and after 7 years of being in the medical area Samantha simply pushed away the idea of the 2 deities stating that she was either going mad because of the stress or someone had been playing a really long prank on her. Though physically harmless, Tartuffe and Achilles sometimes interfered with Samantha’s career which made it impossible to reason with scared patients who thought they were dying. „Just tell her to go sacrifice a goat and tell her I promise I’ll make her immortal. They always fall for it.” Tartuffe spoke. „My analysis shows that there is a 67% chance the human sitting in front of you will exaggerate the diagnostic. It also shows that the human will go home after you tell it its results and search for much worse symptoms.” Wide eyed, Samantha tried to concentrate on the poor woman’s voice as she was telling everything that had happened to her in the past 24 hours. “And then my cousin, who is a ghost whisperer, started reading some incantations and after that she told me that I would go mad unless I drank exactly 0,2 millilitres of ethanol.” “You don’t say…” The doctor kindly spoke as the veins in her cornea screamed murder. “Jesus.” Tartuffe uttered as he stretched his hooves. Neither creature seemed to have had an impact on the tolerant doctor until years later when a certain incident almost turned into the opposite of her job. „Get out of my way or I’ll smash your god damn face in I will!” Samantha’s ears seemed to have picked up the thick southern accent accompanied by heavy footsteps well as a panting woman with the same voice as before was approaching the patient’s room. Samantha looked over the medical file again. Damien Green. Age 21. Involved in a car accident, high alcohol levels found in his bloodstream, presumably it was his first time drinking legally and decided to have more than enough. „Damien! Oh, Damien!” Imploring as if about to start reciting a sonnet, the woman approached the wounded’s bandage covered face and started to analyse it. „What happened to him?” The red faced female spoke. „Car accident. Fortunately he is in stable condition. Just a few more investigations, some administered medicine and injections and he might be on his feet again in no-„ „Medication? My boy don’t need no medication, he needs God.” The woman abruptly interrupted Samantha, taking out a plasticized photo of a saint. “Hey! I know that guy!” Tartuffe remarked as if about to jump from the shoulder and rip the image to pieces. “Another deity similar to us? My database shows no information of such.” Achilles intervened. “He sits at the entrance of heaven like oh look at me with my big staff, I’ll show you a staff-“ “Tartuffe, it is inappropriate to speak such words with a female human present.” “I’ll say whatever I want, you tinfoil piece of trash.” Trying to regain her train of thoughts Samantha attempted reasoning with the woman. „Ma’am, that’s silly, his bones won’t heal as fast unless we administrate him calcium and all the other vitamins.” “Silly? I’ll show you silly when you burn in hell for throwing all these random things into people’s bodies.” A storm of thoughts soon followed again. Tartuffe: “50 bucks says she’s going there before anyone else.” Samantha: “Ma’am.” Achilles: “I suggest aborting the mission as there is a 78% chance of the event leading to violent repercussions.” Woman: “You think I don’t know what you’re doing to all the patients? I watch TV, I know everything!” Samantha: “Madam.” “AND I KNOW GOD WILL HEAL EVERYONE IN THIS HOSPITAL WHILE ALL DOCTORS WILL GO TO HELL WHERE THEY DESERVE.” Tartuffe: “Uh, oh.” Silence filled the room as the vicious tornado of words had ended. Literally feeling her brain stem explode, with macabre bloodshot eyes Samantha walked next to the bed and without thinking pressed her finger on the IV perfusion tube which pumped the fluid into Damien’s body, stopping it from flowing. After 3 seconds of complete stillness the heart monitor started going insane with beeping sounds as the almost lifeless body started convulsing in the white sheets. “What’s going on?! What are you doing?!! DAMIEN! STOP IT!!” Mere seconds passed as her slender fingers let go of the perfusion. She leaned her knuckles on the bed to look at the benevolent woman on the opposite side. And with frost dead words she spoke: „Where’s your God now?”	#Purpose &nbsp; At the age of thirteen everyone is said to get a physical manifestation of good and evil on their shoulders. One for good and one for evil. It is said that depending on the personality of the individual, those manifestations can be different. &nbsp; I've always wondered who I am and what my purpose was, excited to see what those manifestations would become. One day it came, my thirteenth birthday. "Awaken my child." A voice came from aside of me. "It is time you saw the balance of your own self." I groggily awoke, the clock said 02:23. The exact time it is said that I was born, thirteen years to this date. &nbsp; "YES HUMAN. AWAKE." A more mechanical voice said from my other side. I rubbed my eyes and turned towards them. On one side of my bed there hovered a light, warm and crisp... On the other a small robot that looked like it was built from a webcam and some old parts. &nbsp; "You have a question my child?" The glowing bright light said to me. I thought for a moment, how does one phrase the question that they have always wanted to ask? Who am I? What am I supposed to do? "What... What is my purpose?" I asked the light. Silence fell for a few seconds. "Your purpose? My child, we don't have purposes predefined by others, our purpose it to find our own purpose, as it were. Some may call that family, others adventure. However I suppose some of do have a predefined purpose..." The light said turning it's direct light to his robot counterpart. &nbsp; "I PASS THE BUTTER." &nbsp; --- ^Thanks ^for ^reading, ^this ^was ^a ^short ^one ^simply ^leading ^up ^to ^a ^silly [^reference.](https://youtu.be/ekP0LQEsUh0?t=53s) ^Any ^edits ^are ^for ^grammar. /r/Camel_Writes
	[WP] Most people have a shoulder angel and devil advising them. You have a shoulder robot and Elder God.	I didn't think the demon and angel thing was literal until I turned 13, when the depths of my subconscious summoned them to my shoulders to sit there for every one of my waking moments. I stilk don't think the demon and angel thing is literal. You see, I have a robot and an elder god sitting on my shoulders. A Hal 9000 and Cthulhu kind of deal. Less Pure and Evil than media represents, more lawful neutral and chaotic neutral. It's been nine years since they started giving me the worst advice possible, and somehow I'm still alive. Not just alive, but in college. Like a real person that isn't batshit crazy. I sit up in my bed and rub my eyes. First day of spring break, time to get a coffee and see what the gang is planning. Then it hits me that I'm not in my bed. I'm naked on Sonder's kitchen floor, and I have an awful headache. YOU WERE VERY DRUNK AND MADE A LOT OF POOR DECISIONS MY WORD WILL GUIDE YOUR MANY SPAWN AND I WILL REIGN OVER A NEW ERA OF HUMANITY. HE NEXT GENERATION WILL UNDERSTAND PAIN. I spoke to them in my head as I grabbed a soda from her fridge and went to look for my clothes. "Hal, who was there? C, what did I mess up?" 'THE GANG' AND ABOUT 60 TOTAL STRANGERS WERE HERE YOU MATED WITH FOUR WOMEN, COUNTING SONDER TWICE. THE OTHER TWO ARE TOTAL STRANGERS AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN "Alright, I can work with that. Now shut up while I talk to real people." I found my or someone else's underwear on the couch and found Pollux lying in the bathtub texting someone. "Where's everyone else?" He ran his hand through his messy dark hair and sighed. "Sonder brought Castor and Azero with her to get us all fast food. I think J is puking outside. Glad you finally managed to cover up your junk." YOU WILL HAVE TO DISCUSS YOUR SEXUAL ACTIONS WITH SONDER OVER BREAKFAST WITH THE GANG, OTHERWISE THERE WILL BE AWKWARD TENSION AND THE GROUP WILL COLLAPSE "Cool, I'm starving. You need me to grab you anything from the living room?" I offered. Pollux took up the offer quickly. "Yeah, I want my white jacket from under the stool. Don't mind that the stool is in like five pieces, it'll be fine." As I walked out of the bathroom, Pollux crawled out of the bathtub. I threw him his jacket and put on my shirt, wedged in the cushions near where my underwear was. THEY ARE HERE Sonder unlocked the door and held it open for Castor and Azero to carry J inside. They set them on the ground and went back to grab the bags of food from the sidewalk. "What did you get me?" A bag came flying in from the door at me and I managed to catch it, seeing that it was Castor who tossed it at me. I flipped him off as Sonder responded. "Just a burger. I didn't know if you were going to puke at food like J is, so I got something anyone else can eat if you didn't want it." I pulled the coffee table to the center of the room and sat down, unwrapping the excessive amount of packaging on ny food. "Anyways, while Pollux and Castor might still be too drunk to remember this, did we bang last night?" Her face turned red and Castor replied first. "I'm a borderline alcoholic, you can count on me remembering this conversation like any other." Sonder stammered out a reply. "Did- I uh- are you... alright with that? We were both drinking a lot and uh it just kind of led to that I swear I'm on the pill so-" "It's cool. Tightens up the group more than anything. Although it does feel weird that Azero would have to sit that out, I totally would've been down for a-" "Don't bring me into this, jackass." YOU ARE AN IDIOT. YOUR LIFE IS CRUMBLING AND YOU KNOW IT. SAVE THIS CONVERSATION OR YOU WILL END UP LOSING EVERYTHING AND DROPPING OUT OF SCHOOL I sighed and ignored the assholes on my shoulder again. "Can someone pass me a drink? I've got a headache like hell."	With the gun in my hand, I stopped to consider - would I really benefit from the murder of these 5 people? I needed some help with this indecision, so I called up the two most important facets of my personality. "Razzeklaploth, JOHN, am I doing the right thing here?" "It depends: are you sacrificing her to a benevolent deity, or a malicious one? Because some dimensions get a little pissy about the whole 'taking another's life' situation." "No, it's just for personal pleasure. Is that a problem?" "WE SHOULD ALL GET-A-LONG" "No, the God's don't really recognise something not done specifically in their respective names. You might get some benefit if you sacrifice to Slixalote, Harbinger of Entropy, but he's noticeably fickle with part-timers" "And John? Do you have an opinion on the matter?" "THIS WILL HELP US GET-A-LONG?" "Well, it certainly seems like Razzeklaploth thinks it's a decent idea. I just simply want to make sure I'm in the right." "MEH" "Two abstentions and a positive makes a positive I believe?" "Seems like it's all sorted out!" "START WITH THE LIVER SO WE CAN ALL GET-A-LONG" fin
	[WP] It has been three years since little Timmy and his cardboard tugboat declared war on the Navy. With a rising body count and no end in sight, the government isn't sure what to do.	"Sir, USS Fife has just been sunk. It's the thirteenth major loss we've had since Timothy declared war." "Dammit all! He's just too fast for our sights to confirm his position. Zipping past our ships, he deploys mines like there's no end in sight! Go back to the command room and give me reports from other ships." "Right away sir." -=+=- "Mr. President, we need orders immediately. If we continue this war any longer, we will have more losses than we did in WWI and WWII combined!" "It seems we'll have to launch T Squared earlier than planned. Give orders to the head scientists that we'll need to send the prototype immediately." As it dawned on him, the agent realized the meaning of what the president had told him. "Are you sure, sir. This is the only last resort option we have?" "Agent, I understand that the public must not know about this, but we've tried everything from chemical warfare to nuking the damn kid. He's practically invincible." As shock from the true severity of the situation settled, the agent excused himself and immediately rushed over to the head scientists offices. Entering the cluttered room, with papers strewn all over the place, the agent spotted one of the scientists slouching over his desk. As the agent stepped closer, he realized the scientist was dead, with blood slowly trickling down his neck. Shaking him awake, the agent fervently questioned the scientist. "What happened?!" "The prototype... he threatened to kill me if I didn't let him go... I let him go... cough but he still shot me... cough cough" "Where is he now?! We need to know befo-" Suddenly the floor shook, and an explosion was heard from not so far away. Soon, sirens were wailing and an emergency protocol was issued through the intercom in the building. The agent tried to help the scientist, but the scientist was gone by the time the agent grasped the situation at hand. Hearing another series of explosions, the agent rushed out into the corridor only to face a hellish fire burning through the maze-like hallways of the building. 'Lock down Protocol 274 has been issued. Lock down Protocol 274 has been issued. All agents report to TECC. I repeat, all agents report to TECC. Entrances 3, 4, and 5 have been breached. Military for-' "Damn, it's getting worse by the second!" Sprinting down the hallways, the agent passes scientists frantically trying to escape, as well as countless bodies of those who could not make it past the havoc erupting in the building. Soon, the agent saw an exit and bolted straight for it, but was intercepted by a bullet straight to the knee. "Fuck!" Quickly, he drew out his own gun, and pointed it towards the figure that seemed to materialize straight from the blazing inferno. "What do you think you are doing?! If you don't give me a rea-" All too suddenly, the figure pulled out a pistol and shot the agent straight into the chest. The blood blossomed on his shirt, sitting there, his final moments quickly fading away. 'Ughh... what an annoying human.' -=+=- Timmy sped away in the water in his worn down cardboard tugboat, laughing at the inflamed sinking ship behind him. "Hahaha! That's what you get for threatening Mr. Teddy. Don't mess with me again! Now, onto the next ship. Where is it?" Timmy took out his cardboard binoculars and looked out into the horizon. It was midday, without a cloud in sight. His eyes locked onto a speck in the distance, heading straight for him. With every passing second, the object grew larger and larger until it finally stopped only a couple hundred meters away. "Hello brother."	"Sir, ONI says they've finally got a lead on all the incidents here at Norfolk..." Lieutnenat Robbins trailed off as he read his message aloud. "Well, son. Don't make me drag it out of you," Captian McDaniels commanded irritably. Three years of untraceable incidents and loss of personnel had etched a deep grove in his patience. "Um, that is to say, Sir, they've traced the incidents to a common appearance of one person. Believe it or not, it's Rear Admiral Horan's son," Robbins read with disbelief. "I've met him," exclaimed McDaniels, "he's only seven years old. Does ONI, in their infinite fucking wisdom, explain how the hell did he sabotaged a munitions room on a destroyer?" "Telekineses, sir. Focused through a cardboard toy, apparently."
	[WP] It has been three years since little Timmy and his cardboard tugboat declared war on the Navy. With a rising body count and no end in sight, the government isn't sure what to do.	"Commander! We are taking on water!" A sailor yelled at the top of his lungs. "Commander, the engine rooms reports severe damage! They had to evacuate." Reported another. A third chimed in, "Commander! We have lost our main cannon, we won't be able to pierce his hull!" Commander Lezin of the United States Navy was at a loss. In the last three years, fifteen ships were mysteriously lost at sea. Rumors were spreading through the ranks of a "ghost ship" that is untraceable and unsinkable. Lezin couldn't believe they were true. He took a brief moment to consider his position. "Raise the white flag. Offer them to board....." He watched the white flag rise from the bridge of his war ship. "Captain, they have surrendered. What would you like to do?" Asked the First Mate. He didn't answer. He flashed back to his childhood. He saw his father give him a kiss on the forehead before setting sail. The knock on the door. The two men in white dress uniforms. His mother crying. His sister making apple pudding trying to cheer them up. He hadn't been called "Little Tim" since. Why would he? He was the only Tim left after-all. If only it had ended there. If only they hadn't taken more... "Commander they have stopped firing." Reported a sailor. Commander Lezin let out a sigh of relief. The Iron Fury might be doomed, but its crew wasn't. The lives of men were of a far greater worth than a hunk of metal. "Bring the Captain on radio, tell him The Iron Fury and it's captain are his to do with as he pleases." Tim thought of his sister crying three years ago. He thought of the courtroom. Of the man on the stand in a blue uniform. The verdict the verdict. The smile on her assailant's face as he was found "not guilty" by a jury of his peers. His sister dead. Bled out on the bathroom floor. "They are hailing us captain. They offer The Iron Fury and it's captain in exchange for the freedom of the crew," said the First Mate. "Your answer?" Timothy West II stood on the bridge of his pride and joy, The Driftwood Boat. He was the captain of his own ship. He was the justice on the seas. He was the broken, and he could never be made whole again. "To the seas with them." Tim left the bridge. It was an apple pudding kind of day.	"Sir, ONI says they've finally got a lead on all the incidents here at Norfolk..." Lieutnenat Robbins trailed off as he read his message aloud. "Well, son. Don't make me drag it out of you," Captian McDaniels commanded irritably. Three years of untraceable incidents and loss of personnel had etched a deep grove in his patience. "Um, that is to say, Sir, they've traced the incidents to a common appearance of one person. Believe it or not, it's Rear Admiral Horan's son," Robbins read with disbelief. "I've met him," exclaimed McDaniels, "he's only seven years old. Does ONI, in their infinite fucking wisdom, explain how the hell did he sabotaged a munitions room on a destroyer?" "Telekineses, sir. Focused through a cardboard toy, apparently."
	[WP] It has been three years since little Timmy and his cardboard tugboat declared war on the Navy. With a rising body count and no end in sight, the government isn't sure what to do.	What on Earth were we thinking? To fight a child? Were we drinking? Terror, fright, he steals the light. His heart's so dark, he is the night. He rides his ship of paper glory While writing death into our story. What will we ever do? We ask. Surviving is our only task. This child showed us who we are While bombing us from just afar. We fear the night, we shy from day. We hope to keep Timmy at bay. But nothing will save us from his wrath, He'll destroy what is in his path. So next time we'll think during our morning bath, Before assigning Timmy math.	"Sir, ONI says they've finally got a lead on all the incidents here at Norfolk..." Lieutnenat Robbins trailed off as he read his message aloud. "Well, son. Don't make me drag it out of you," Captian McDaniels commanded irritably. Three years of untraceable incidents and loss of personnel had etched a deep grove in his patience. "Um, that is to say, Sir, they've traced the incidents to a common appearance of one person. Believe it or not, it's Rear Admiral Horan's son," Robbins read with disbelief. "I've met him," exclaimed McDaniels, "he's only seven years old. Does ONI, in their infinite fucking wisdom, explain how the hell did he sabotaged a munitions room on a destroyer?" "Telekineses, sir. Focused through a cardboard toy, apparently."
	[WP] It has been three years since little Timmy and his cardboard tugboat declared war on the Navy. With a rising body count and no end in sight, the government isn't sure what to do.	What on Earth were we thinking? To fight a child? Were we drinking? Terror, fright, he steals the light. His heart's so dark, he is the night. He rides his ship of paper glory While writing death into our story. What will we ever do? We ask. Surviving is our only task. This child showed us who we are While bombing us from just afar. We fear the night, we shy from day. We hope to keep Timmy at bay. But nothing will save us from his wrath, He'll destroy what is in his path. So next time we'll think during our morning bath, Before assigning Timmy math.	"Sir, USS Fife has just been sunk. It's the thirteenth major loss we've had since Timothy declared war." "Dammit all! He's just too fast for our sights to confirm his position. Zipping past our ships, he deploys mines like there's no end in sight! Go back to the command room and give me reports from other ships." "Right away sir." -=+=- "Mr. President, we need orders immediately. If we continue this war any longer, we will have more losses than we did in WWI and WWII combined!" "It seems we'll have to launch T Squared earlier than planned. Give orders to the head scientists that we'll need to send the prototype immediately." As it dawned on him, the agent realized the meaning of what the president had told him. "Are you sure, sir. This is the only last resort option we have?" "Agent, I understand that the public must not know about this, but we've tried everything from chemical warfare to nuking the damn kid. He's practically invincible." As shock from the true severity of the situation settled, the agent excused himself and immediately rushed over to the head scientists offices. Entering the cluttered room, with papers strewn all over the place, the agent spotted one of the scientists slouching over his desk. As the agent stepped closer, he realized the scientist was dead, with blood slowly trickling down his neck. Shaking him awake, the agent fervently questioned the scientist. "What happened?!" "The prototype... he threatened to kill me if I didn't let him go... I let him go... cough but he still shot me... cough cough" "Where is he now?! We need to know befo-" Suddenly the floor shook, and an explosion was heard from not so far away. Soon, sirens were wailing and an emergency protocol was issued through the intercom in the building. The agent tried to help the scientist, but the scientist was gone by the time the agent grasped the situation at hand. Hearing another series of explosions, the agent rushed out into the corridor only to face a hellish fire burning through the maze-like hallways of the building. 'Lock down Protocol 274 has been issued. Lock down Protocol 274 has been issued. All agents report to TECC. I repeat, all agents report to TECC. Entrances 3, 4, and 5 have been breached. Military for-' "Damn, it's getting worse by the second!" Sprinting down the hallways, the agent passes scientists frantically trying to escape, as well as countless bodies of those who could not make it past the havoc erupting in the building. Soon, the agent saw an exit and bolted straight for it, but was intercepted by a bullet straight to the knee. "Fuck!" Quickly, he drew out his own gun, and pointed it towards the figure that seemed to materialize straight from the blazing inferno. "What do you think you are doing?! If you don't give me a rea-" All too suddenly, the figure pulled out a pistol and shot the agent straight into the chest. The blood blossomed on his shirt, sitting there, his final moments quickly fading away. 'Ughh... what an annoying human.' -=+=- Timmy sped away in the water in his worn down cardboard tugboat, laughing at the inflamed sinking ship behind him. "Hahaha! That's what you get for threatening Mr. Teddy. Don't mess with me again! Now, onto the next ship. Where is it?" Timmy took out his cardboard binoculars and looked out into the horizon. It was midday, without a cloud in sight. His eyes locked onto a speck in the distance, heading straight for him. With every passing second, the object grew larger and larger until it finally stopped only a couple hundred meters away. "Hello brother."
	[WP] It has been three years since little Timmy and his cardboard tugboat declared war on the Navy. With a rising body count and no end in sight, the government isn't sure what to do.	What on Earth were we thinking? To fight a child? Were we drinking? Terror, fright, he steals the light. His heart's so dark, he is the night. He rides his ship of paper glory While writing death into our story. What will we ever do? We ask. Surviving is our only task. This child showed us who we are While bombing us from just afar. We fear the night, we shy from day. We hope to keep Timmy at bay. But nothing will save us from his wrath, He'll destroy what is in his path. So next time we'll think during our morning bath, Before assigning Timmy math.	"Commander! We are taking on water!" A sailor yelled at the top of his lungs. "Commander, the engine rooms reports severe damage! They had to evacuate." Reported another. A third chimed in, "Commander! We have lost our main cannon, we won't be able to pierce his hull!" Commander Lezin of the United States Navy was at a loss. In the last three years, fifteen ships were mysteriously lost at sea. Rumors were spreading through the ranks of a "ghost ship" that is untraceable and unsinkable. Lezin couldn't believe they were true. He took a brief moment to consider his position. "Raise the white flag. Offer them to board....." He watched the white flag rise from the bridge of his war ship. "Captain, they have surrendered. What would you like to do?" Asked the First Mate. He didn't answer. He flashed back to his childhood. He saw his father give him a kiss on the forehead before setting sail. The knock on the door. The two men in white dress uniforms. His mother crying. His sister making apple pudding trying to cheer them up. He hadn't been called "Little Tim" since. Why would he? He was the only Tim left after-all. If only it had ended there. If only they hadn't taken more... "Commander they have stopped firing." Reported a sailor. Commander Lezin let out a sigh of relief. The Iron Fury might be doomed, but its crew wasn't. The lives of men were of a far greater worth than a hunk of metal. "Bring the Captain on radio, tell him The Iron Fury and it's captain are his to do with as he pleases." Tim thought of his sister crying three years ago. He thought of the courtroom. Of the man on the stand in a blue uniform. The verdict the verdict. The smile on her assailant's face as he was found "not guilty" by a jury of his peers. His sister dead. Bled out on the bathroom floor. "They are hailing us captain. They offer The Iron Fury and it's captain in exchange for the freedom of the crew," said the First Mate. "Your answer?" Timothy West II stood on the bridge of his pride and joy, The Driftwood Boat. He was the captain of his own ship. He was the justice on the seas. He was the broken, and he could never be made whole again. "To the seas with them." Tim left the bridge. It was an apple pudding kind of day.
	[WP] It has been three years since little Timmy and his cardboard tugboat declared war on the Navy. With a rising body count and no end in sight, the government isn't sure what to do.	The setting sun skimmed across the sea and turned it into an endless glass of sangria. To Timmy, the evening sunbeams were brush strokes of blood; his fallen victims being honoured by the Gods. He settled down on the edge of the soft, home-made boat and dipped his toes into the water. He didn't mean to drift off, but the warmth of the evening sun, combined with the waves lapping at his feet, were an irresistible mixture. "Timothy Clarke," came a booming voice. Timmy almost fell into the water as he jumped up, suddenly very awake. Were the Gods calling his name? "Timothy Clarke," repeated the voice. It was night time, and it took a moment for Timmy's eyes to adjust. The moon was the shape of a great banana; his tummy rumbled. When had he last eaten? Turning slowly, he saw the great ship that loomed over his tiny vessel, its huge shadow swallowing his tiny boat whole. It was a US destroyer, and it had somehow snuck up on him. He shivered. He'd survived out on the ocean for this long by being the hunter, not the hunted. He looked the massive vessel over. It was very old, and probably slow. Perhaps he could outmanoeuvre it... or flee from it. Probably not, though. How had he been so careless? The voice came again, exploding into the night and shaking his tiny ship. "It is time for you to go home, Timothy. Our weapons are locked onto you. We will not negotiate. Surrender, or prepare to meet your maker." Timmy's head fell. For a moment, he thought about giving in - he was tired of running, fighting... tired of killing. Maybe meeting his maker wouldn't be such a bad thing. But... he couldn't. He'd come too far and fought too hard. If it came to it, he'd go down with his ship. He picked up his cardboard megaphone. "You know my demands!" he spat into it, trying to hide the nervousness that lurked within. Timmy dropped the megaphone and rummaged underneath the boat's single seat, until he found what he was after. He took it out and with the last of his bluetack, pinned the pillowcase up to the highest point of the boat - the cardboard masthead. The Crayola scribbled Skull and Crossbones billowed proudly in the night's breeze. "This is your final warning!" the Destroyer bellowed. Timmy picked the megaphone up again. "Pizza. Every night. For every child!" There was a pause, before a reply came. "Twice a week, Timmy. First and final offer." "Every. Night." Timmy started the engine. He knew what he had to do. "What's he doin- oh my God," came the voice, quieter now - timid, almost. "Timmy! Listen - pizza three times a week! Okay? Okay buddy?" Timmy closed his eyes as the tiny vessel picked up speed. The wind rustled through his blonde locks one final time. Timmy had never gone so fast - he felt free. The boat rattled and rumbled. Would it hold together? "Four times a week!" The voice was urgent. Desperate. "Timmy don't do this! Tim-" The tugboat crashed into the floating titan with tremendous force. The cardboard destroyer collapsed onto its side; the tugboat crumpled into nothingness. --- "Timmy!" said Matthew, as he waded out of the pond, dragging his ruined, makeshift boat behind him. He shivered as water dripped off him. "What on earth were you thinking, buddy?" "Sorry dad. I guess I got a little carried away," Timmy replied, shaking his arms dry. He hung his head contritely. Matthew looked stern, but only for a moment. Then he laughed. "Okay, let's get dry, then I guess..." Timmy looked up, his eyes brightening. "Pizza?" he asked, hopefully. "Pizza."	The hand-rolled cigarette between my fingers burns and ashes onto my table. It floats, softly, unaware of the carnage it was spawned from. With my eyes closed I breathe in deeply, allowing the nicotine to sprawl throughout my blood. The only thing that keeps me still these days. "Sir?" I have never met a man I was afraid of; for their mothers were slaughtered by myself long ago. But this kid ain't no man, and I can't kill Lucifer herself. "Sir?" I don't even understand how he's doing it. It's just a kid, a bunch of cardboard, but. I keep getting documents to sign. Pieces of paper with names and faces on them of people who died in a war I can't even begin to comprehend. "Sir?" The words pierce my train of thought. A soldier stands in the doorway of my office, a visage of depression dancing on his face, and documents clutched to his chest. "Come in," I say taking a drag of my cigarette. He walks with confidence and places the material before me. "How many this time?" I ask. "Only seven, Sir." The words exit his mouth with sharp precision. I can tell he's been practising telling me that. I nod, my mouth struggling to help me speak. "Only seven," I repeat, tapping my fingers against the table. "Only." I open up the documents to see a young face staring back at me. 'Katherine Fisher - Age 25.' I glance up quickly to see the soldier leaving my office. "Wait," I demand calmly, and he turns. "Did you know Katherine Fisher?" "No Sir," He responds. "Did anyone you know... Did any of them know Katherine Fisher?" "No Sir." I shake my head and toss the papers across my desk. With a lean backward in my chair, I can feel my anger begin to boil. "She was twenty-five," I start to say. "And her name was Katherine Fisher..., and between the two of us, that's all we fucking know about her. She had dreams. Goals, probably. Maybe even thought of having a family. You know what happened instead?" I move forward and await a response. "What happened instead, Sir?" "She fucking died." I can see the panic in his eyes. "Well," he says, a murmur in his throat. "If I can say so Sir, they don't make heroes like you anymore." I laugh quietly to myself, the sound of rushing air across my teeth being heard by only me. "I joined the services fifty years ago. Did you know that?" "Yes Sir," "And in fifty years I earned that fantastic title," I stand from my chair and walk slowly around my table. "Hero. Which is, honestly, astounding to think about. I joined the service because I wanted to see a man die. My mama used to tell me 'Boy, curiosity don't kill only cats.'" I put my hand around the soldier's shoulders, and squeeze tightly. "She was talking about me." "Yes Sir," "Funnily enough, I saw more than one man die. Let me tell you - It looks the same every time. A lot of terror, a lot of piss, and pants full of shit. No one looks brave with a chest full of bullets." I stare him down, having forgotten to blink this entire time, and he waits, knowingly not blinking out of fear. "So do me a favor," I say, "And be a hero like me. Shoot that fucking kid's head off. Please." "Yes Sir." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Check out /r/Rhysyjay for other neat stuff. I'm hella rusty at writing, so the stuff there is probably better.
	[WP] It has been three years since little Timmy and his cardboard tugboat declared war on the Navy. With a rising body count and no end in sight, the government isn't sure what to do.	Little Timmy had a bark boat attached to a string. It had sails made out of paper and a pirate flag at the top that he had drawn himself. It was a piece of art in the eyes of the five-year-old. He had named her Esmeralda after his nana. He was tugging it through a puddle one rainy day when a convoy of military vehicles thundered down the street. Little Timmy had his back toward the street and was lost in his own imagination. He didn’t even notice them until it was too late. The boat was crushed under the wheels, and along with it, his dreams. A shadow fell across Timmy’s face. “You will pay!” he cried as tears mixed with the raindrops on his cheeks. He picked up the tiny pieces of mauled bark and crumpled paper, and buried them in the backyard. Esmeralda had been his friend when none of the other kids wanted to, and now she was dead. Little Timmy mourned his loss for days, but not once did revenge leave his mind. He took an oath to crush the army just like they had crushed Esmeralda. He was going to start with the navy. If they took away his boat, he would take away theirs. That was how justice worked. He found a new piece of bark in the forest and started building. The new boat wasn’t as beautiful as Esmeralda and didn’t have the white sails. It was dark and fitted with miniature guns that he borrowed from his toy soldiers. He named the new boat Michaela in honor of the avenging angel from the stories in church. With a resolute face, Timmy made his way to the beach. Michaela crushed the waves under her keel, and Timmy started tugging her towards the naval base. It was time to suffer. He found a hole in the fence and climbed through, making sure his boat never left the water. The massive armored hulls of the Destroyers towered over the small boy. “Vengeance!” he screamed and tugged his boat towards the enemy. The ship turned its guns towards the boy, but they were no match for Michaela who turned the much larger Destroyer to scrap with well-placed broadside fire. Little Timmy laughed righteously as the smoke and fire filled his eyes. *** “How is my boy doing?” asked Timmy’s mother as she stepped into the office with a view over the docks. The woman in the white coat gave her a concerned look. “He’s doing fine…” Together they walked over to the window. Timmy’s mother felt her throat screw itself shut. She looked at the bearded man with tousled hair, holding the string of a tugboat down by the water. An old retired navy vessel was the only other ship there. Even from this far away they could hear the man laughing. “It’s been thirty-three years…” the doctor said. “He’s not going to get better.” “I know,” said the woman, unable to keep her voice steady. “And trust me; I count every single day since I let my boy out to play in the puddles on the street.” *** /r/Lilwa_Dexel Subscribe if you liked it :)	The hand-rolled cigarette between my fingers burns and ashes onto my table. It floats, softly, unaware of the carnage it was spawned from. With my eyes closed I breathe in deeply, allowing the nicotine to sprawl throughout my blood. The only thing that keeps me still these days. "Sir?" I have never met a man I was afraid of; for their mothers were slaughtered by myself long ago. But this kid ain't no man, and I can't kill Lucifer herself. "Sir?" I don't even understand how he's doing it. It's just a kid, a bunch of cardboard, but. I keep getting documents to sign. Pieces of paper with names and faces on them of people who died in a war I can't even begin to comprehend. "Sir?" The words pierce my train of thought. A soldier stands in the doorway of my office, a visage of depression dancing on his face, and documents clutched to his chest. "Come in," I say taking a drag of my cigarette. He walks with confidence and places the material before me. "How many this time?" I ask. "Only seven, Sir." The words exit his mouth with sharp precision. I can tell he's been practising telling me that. I nod, my mouth struggling to help me speak. "Only seven," I repeat, tapping my fingers against the table. "Only." I open up the documents to see a young face staring back at me. 'Katherine Fisher - Age 25.' I glance up quickly to see the soldier leaving my office. "Wait," I demand calmly, and he turns. "Did you know Katherine Fisher?" "No Sir," He responds. "Did anyone you know... Did any of them know Katherine Fisher?" "No Sir." I shake my head and toss the papers across my desk. With a lean backward in my chair, I can feel my anger begin to boil. "She was twenty-five," I start to say. "And her name was Katherine Fisher..., and between the two of us, that's all we fucking know about her. She had dreams. Goals, probably. Maybe even thought of having a family. You know what happened instead?" I move forward and await a response. "What happened instead, Sir?" "She fucking died." I can see the panic in his eyes. "Well," he says, a murmur in his throat. "If I can say so Sir, they don't make heroes like you anymore." I laugh quietly to myself, the sound of rushing air across my teeth being heard by only me. "I joined the services fifty years ago. Did you know that?" "Yes Sir," "And in fifty years I earned that fantastic title," I stand from my chair and walk slowly around my table. "Hero. Which is, honestly, astounding to think about. I joined the service because I wanted to see a man die. My mama used to tell me 'Boy, curiosity don't kill only cats.'" I put my hand around the soldier's shoulders, and squeeze tightly. "She was talking about me." "Yes Sir," "Funnily enough, I saw more than one man die. Let me tell you - It looks the same every time. A lot of terror, a lot of piss, and pants full of shit. No one looks brave with a chest full of bullets." I stare him down, having forgotten to blink this entire time, and he waits, knowingly not blinking out of fear. "So do me a favor," I say, "And be a hero like me. Shoot that fucking kid's head off. Please." "Yes Sir." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Check out /r/Rhysyjay for other neat stuff. I'm hella rusty at writing, so the stuff there is probably better.
to a*	[WP] After death you are sent a small room where you are given 1 hour with a deceased person of your choice. The conversation is going fine until they reveal the truth about the afterlife....	"Welcome to your afterlife room. Please pick your guest." The room's walls, ceiling, and floor were all this off-white eggshell color. It was entirely empty, save for a comfy-looking sofa. "Welcome to your afterlife room. Please pick your guest." I blinked. The sofa didn't seem to be talking. Shrugging, I said the first name that came to mind. "Elvis Presley." I mean, it was worth a shot. I don't lose much if it fails, and if it works, I get to meet Elvis Presley. "It looks like The King's called to make another appearance." I hear a deep voice say. I look around, and find the King of Rock and Roll himself lounging on the sofa. "Have a seat, have a seat, and thank you very much for choosing me." "Whoah. Are you really-" "Now we only have one hour so I'mma answer your first three questions right away. Yes, it's me. Yes, I can sing for you but it won't sound super shagadelic without my instrumentals. And no, we aren't going to get down and dirty on this sofa." "I wasn't about to-" "I'm sure you weren't. Now, any more questions?" Elvis started munching on a sandwich. "Where'd you get that?" It smelled... greasy. "Food, water, shelter come with the crib. Company, though, pretty rare. Unless you're me." He said between bites. Figuring I'd give it a try, I mimed eating a bucket of fried chicken. Took a few shots, but soon I was holding a bucket of KFC. We ate in silence for a while. "Hm. What did you mean about the company thing?" I plopped down next to him. "Well, the crib's all you get. You can't leave. Unless someone asks for you. Guess it'd get awful lonely if nobody ever did... for all of eternity. But hey, looks like I got another appointment right after yours. Oh, don't sweat it, I'm sure you'll be fine. You did do something with your life, right?" I choked on my food. "How much time do we have left?" "Oh about forty-five minutes, give or take." Elvis conjured a pen and paper. "Want an autograph?" "Sure. Thanks," I replied in a small voice.	The conversation had been mostly pleasantries up until that point. After all, I hadn't seen my husband in years, and it was good to catch up with the man. He certainly was curious what I had been up to, and I was happy to assure him that I had spent my last years being just as adventurous as we had always been together. I told him how our son was doing at his new job, and the look on my Clyde's face when he heard that his son had followed in his footsteps as a policeman was worth the wait I had to endure to tell him. He listened eagerly as I told him about the trips I went on, the people I'd met, and the fun I'd managed to have in my old age without him. The conversation soured a bit as the hour was almost up, when I asked him what he had been up to all these years. I had first noticed something amiss when I caught him glancing nervously at the clock on the wall. It had been ticking down from an hour since I had arrived. "Oh, I'm so silly, I've been taking up all your time!" "What do you mean, Agatha?" "Well, we only have an hour in this room alone together, so I assumed this was some kind of 'welcome to heaven' orientation session, right? A sort of adjustment period?" I tried to read his face, which I had grown good at after years of marriage. He looked anxious, the same face he'd make when he had some news to give me, but didn't know quite how. Not bad news, but just heavy news that carried weight behind it. The last time I had seen this sort of expression was when he told me about his retirement plans. Not bad news, but just news with a large impact on our lives (or afterlives, in this case). "Well, see, that's the thing. This isn't heaven. At least, not in the way we always thought. Oh, don't worry, it isn't hell! It's... oneness. I don't quite know how to explain it, honey, it's just odd. Like, you lose all individuality, all self, and just become one with everything. Every person, every animal, every blade of grass taht ever was, and now is not, is together here. No memories, no ideas of privacy, you ARE them, and they are you. Complete sharing, everything that was you is simultaneously gone, and yet a little bit of everything in the universe is now you. I don't know, I was a cop, not a poet, I can't really describe it. You plucked me from the great mass of life in order to get one last one-on-one time with another person." "Oh, wow. I can't say I expected that. What's it like? Do you like in the, um, life blob?" "It's wonderful. and awful. and beautiful. and painful. Every joy ever felt in the history of infinity is there, but so is every pain, and every ugly thought. Time has no meaning, and infinities pass in moments, and moments can last forever, each one containing every feeling and thought to ever exist." He was getting up, gesturing with his arms in wide, sweeping motions. I could tell he was straining with his own limited language skills. Clyde was a smart one, but I could tell this was beyond his ability to describe, and it was frustrating him. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Oh sweety, that sounds just like marriage, and I signed up for that without a second thought!" He seemed to calm down a bit from the touch. "Well then, you ready for one last hurrah?" He moved to open the door for me. "Come on, now, I think I'm quite ready for one last big adventure. Show me that horizon, dear."
to a*	[WP] After death you are sent a small room where you are given 1 hour with a deceased person of your choice. The conversation is going fine until they reveal the truth about the afterlife....	"Welcome to your afterlife room. Please pick your guest." The room's walls, ceiling, and floor were all this off-white eggshell color. It was entirely empty, save for a comfy-looking sofa. "Welcome to your afterlife room. Please pick your guest." I blinked. The sofa didn't seem to be talking. Shrugging, I said the first name that came to mind. "Elvis Presley." I mean, it was worth a shot. I don't lose much if it fails, and if it works, I get to meet Elvis Presley. "It looks like The King's called to make another appearance." I hear a deep voice say. I look around, and find the King of Rock and Roll himself lounging on the sofa. "Have a seat, have a seat, and thank you very much for choosing me." "Whoah. Are you really-" "Now we only have one hour so I'mma answer your first three questions right away. Yes, it's me. Yes, I can sing for you but it won't sound super shagadelic without my instrumentals. And no, we aren't going to get down and dirty on this sofa." "I wasn't about to-" "I'm sure you weren't. Now, any more questions?" Elvis started munching on a sandwich. "Where'd you get that?" It smelled... greasy. "Food, water, shelter come with the crib. Company, though, pretty rare. Unless you're me." He said between bites. Figuring I'd give it a try, I mimed eating a bucket of fried chicken. Took a few shots, but soon I was holding a bucket of KFC. We ate in silence for a while. "Hm. What did you mean about the company thing?" I plopped down next to him. "Well, the crib's all you get. You can't leave. Unless someone asks for you. Guess it'd get awful lonely if nobody ever did... for all of eternity. But hey, looks like I got another appointment right after yours. Oh, don't sweat it, I'm sure you'll be fine. You did do something with your life, right?" I choked on my food. "How much time do we have left?" "Oh about forty-five minutes, give or take." Elvis conjured a pen and paper. "Want an autograph?" "Sure. Thanks," I replied in a small voice.	"It's not that bad. Hell I mean. It gets old after awhile. Anyway, the hour is almost up. Wouldn't you rather talk about science?" Albert Einstein said. My jaw dropped. If Einstein couldn't make it to heaven, what could I have possibly done in my simple life to get in? I never unlocked the universe. I never made discoveries that would save millions of lives. I queried, "What did you do to go to hell?" "I'm Jewish. I don't believe in hell, so I can't go to hell. Unfortunately, you're Christian aren't you? That book is far more harsh. Jesus died for the sins of others, not for future generations. Every time you said God-Damn-It, you condemned yourself to eternal suffering." I was stunned. If I had only chosen another religion, I could have had a better afterlife. I had to grasp at straw now, "Is it too late to change my religion?" "Yes." A single word. A dreaded word. I continued, "Is there a way to escape hell?" "Of corse," came the reply, "all you have to do is..." Einstein was gone. My hour was up. Into hell I plunged.
	[WP] Everyone in every galaxy would fear you.If your name wasn't Sprinkles.	Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. I sat there staring. It had been hours, maybe days. There was no way of knowing. The annoying tick tock sound is something I had gotten used to. How long had it been since my last meal? Just thinking about it reminded me how much it hurt to be this hungry. I wanted to stop. But the thoughts of the last meal I had ran wild in my head. Would there be an end to this pain? "Sprinkles!" An intruder. From the other side of my lair, I heard a voice. Sure, it sounded familiar but I could never be sure. Footsteps. As I braced for battle, it appeared. A two legged creature that felt familiar. It was the human I'd been training. To my satisfaction, the training was still successful. It had brought me food. I wasn't too happy it took so many weeks, but it was not the time to worry. The hunger wasn't going to take care of itself. I let it set the food on the floor and dove in. You wouldn't believe the amazing feeling and relief. My first meal after all those years of waiting! I was nearly done when I had this unnerving feeling. You know, the feeling that someone is watching you. I turned around to see the human giggling with the magic block in its hands. Where it had obtained such a device I'm still working on uncovering. I was furious. How dare it? What, my decade-long hunger that almost killed me was funny to it? I wasn't going to let it continue. Looking at it, I wondered again if it had enough training to understand me. "Meow!" I said with might. But my threat was not taken seriously. Instead, the human had the gall to approach my area with no permission. It laid its hands on me and muttered in gibberish while laughing. "Oh, you must've been really hungry, begging me for a second bowl!" Did the human not understand I was not to be touched? That making contact with my body was a threat to the kingdom I rule? How could it be so stupid and disrespectful? It was time. This was the time I would cut ties with the human. I was pondering how I would execute this plan. The plan had been developed over the course of my life, but I knew I'd only have one chance at it and nothing could go wrong. Suddenly, everything went blank. My body was overwhelmed with indescribable joy. Endorphins shooting off into the tips of my powerful paws. What was happening? I couldn't think straight. I wanted to hold on to this feeling forever. I wished it would never end. That's when it stopped. I opened my eyes and looked up to find the human's hand going back onto the magic block. Unacceptable. If there is one thing it should've learned from my training, it is that my happiness matters the most. It would be scolded. it would be reminded of my prowess and the consequences it would face should it displease me. As an evil mastermind, I paused to gather my thoughts to be concise and articulate as I was trained. Then I let the human have it. "Meow! Meow!"	Sprinkles let out a sigh as another potential employer bursted out laughing. "Sprinkles!!!" the wheezy voice of the caller said. "Yep." said Sprinkles, beginning to feel bloodthirsty. "Now listen," said the caller, "I have a reputation to keep ya know? I can't have rumor out on the streets that I hired some gun named Sprinkles." Sprinkles clenched his teeth, this was the fourth caller this week, and they had all laughed when he introduced himself. "No one would ever need to-" Sprinkles began, but it was too late, the line was dead. Sprinkles swore under his breath. Maybe I should go on a rampage, to teach the world to fear me he thought. Within a few minutes, Sprinkles had tightened the last strap on his body armor, checked all his weapons for defects or sharpening, made sure all his mags were loaded and prepared himself to kill. It started out great for him. His first target was a police station in a corrupt part of town. He chose this, not because of the goodness of his heart but because of the advanced weapons and armor they had smuggled in. Barely even a minute passed before the station was in flames, with Sprinkles still inside. The flames did not hurt him, the armor deadened his nerves, and he chose a good spot to wait for a crowd. That's where things turned south for Sprinkles. While he was in the flames, he rehearsed his speech over and over to himself. You can do this he thought you're the most lethal being on this shit stain of a planet. The sound of sirens caught Sprinkles' ear, enhanced with one of the helmets that he found during his bloody, albeit short rampage. He took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with hot ash, and stood up from within the flames. To normal people he must have appeared demonic, the armor, while useful in many ways, was odd, and unearthly. Sprinkles waited until he had been spotted, and there was a commotion as cameras which were previously filming overpaid reporters who blamed the fire on a rival gang who's biggest misdemeanor was breaking into a home to steal a TV. Once he had their undivided attention, he let loose with a roar, "BEHOLD!!! I AM THE MIGHTY SPRINKLES BOW DOWN IN FEAR OF-" but it was too late, the laughter had started. The reporters rolled their eyes and went back to being the center of attention. The rest of the crowd went back to trying to sneak behind the camera, or filming the inferno rather than help the understaffed volunteers who were trying unsuccessfully to quench the flames. It didn't matter any more to Sprinkles, he hung his head and went home. After murdering everyone on the scene and destroy all evidence of his being there. After he arrived home, the thought dawned on him what if I changed by name? Sprinkles shook his head no that's stupid, why should I change to suit them? With a smirk on his face, Sprinkles went to bed, eagerly awaiting the next caller, and eagerly awaiting the bloodshed of his next contract.
	[WP] In my defense, I was left unsupervised.	"How is the White House justifying the reasons behind the largest act of provocation of war in modern politics?" yelled one reporter. "Why hasn't the President addressed the American people yet?" another reporter pushed her way through the crowd. "Should we be expecting retaliation?" "Enough!" yelled Sean Spicer into his microphone. The pandemonium of a media room calmed to a nervous buzz. The cameras and lights were making him sweat profusely. "I'm sure the President's latest actions were justified with plenty of evidence and was done for the good-" "You're sure? Do you not know for certain?" a reporter interrupted, squinting her eyes in suspicion. "Like I said, the full report will be released soon-" "What will likely be the President's next moves?" Spicer was interrupted yet again. "The White House has no further comment on the issue at this time. Are there any other questions?" The room erupted into chaos once more. As the angry reporters and media stations tried to hound the White House Press Secretary for more information, a man walked onto the podium and whispered into Spicer's ear. Spicer looked at the man in utter disbelief. The man looked back apologetically and hurried off the podium. Spicer took a deep breath and turned to face his audience once more. "President Donald Trump has just released a statement on the recent launch of a nuclear weapon at North Korea," Spicer said loudly into the microphone. The room immediately stopped buzzing, and everyone was hanging on his every word. "In my defense, I was left unsupervised."	I check my phone for what had to be the millionth time since being lead to the tiny room. I don't know why I put up with this. It has been an entire hour of sitting on an uncomfortable sheet of tissue paper in a peep a boo medical gown. Every shift I make sounds like I am wrestling a some kind of wrapping paper monster. I check my phone again. This time the screen is dim as it lets out a loud beep. 10% battery. Great. Now I can't even play a game. What to do? What to do? I look around the room and see what I have available. There is a magazine for senior citizens, pamphlets on getting vaccinated for shingles and pneumonia, and posters for various illness. I shift again, tearing the paper beneath me. Great. I am done. I get up and go to the door. I pop my head out and a nurse spots me. "The doctor will be in with you shortly," She assures me with a tired smile. Yeah. Okay. My appointment was supposed to be an hour and a half earlier. What is the point of scheduling appointments and showing up on time if you have to wait forever to get check. I don't even want to be here. I could be in my bed, under my covers actually recovering from this damn cold. I pace back and forth. I grab a tissue and place it over my chapped, red nose. My head is pounding. I spot a jar of tongue depressors. Fuck it! I open the top and take out a handful. I can't stack them. They are too flat to make something. Tape, I need tape. I start rummaging through open draws to see what I can find. Gauze, gloves, a box of tissues, no tape. Band aids! That will do! I put two tongue depressors over each other in an X shape and use a band aid around the center to tie them together. I do this a good ten times and make myself a small cache of "throwing stars." My head is spinning a little. My fever is catching up to me, but the stupid table is too short to nap on. I sit back down, trying to avoid the tear I made earlier. I try to put my head down, but I can't get comfortable. I sit back up and look at my throwing stars. Times to have some fun. If I can't rest then I will fight! Take that old AARP people! Eat it Shingles! Die doctor! "Shit!" I yell out as my throwing star hits the doctor square in the face. He looks up at me with a scowl. "In my defense, I was left unsupervised."
	[WP] A league of super-villians from an alternate universe has decided to kill every version of you, their arch enemy in their universe. Now a group of alternate-universe you's has arrived to protect you. You are revealed to be the only version of yourself without super powers.	Growing up, I always wished I had super powers. I'd always take those "which power would you have" quizzes on Facebook and the ID spend hours daydreaming about what it'd be like to actually have those powers. Super speed, flight, mind control, telekinesis, super strength, you name it and I've dreamt about it. So, you can understand my heartbreak when I am now standing surrounded by other versions of me that have all those things. At first, I was hopeful, maybe I too would be given a power like these guys. Maybe they were here to recruit me into their protection program. But, alas, they told me why they were really here. Not to recruit, but to protect. It was me. I was the one, and not the cool "you're the chosen one" kind of one. But, the one without powers. The helpless one. The one with nothing. I was happy that I, or rather the other mes, were so selfless and were willing to risk theirs lives to come here. At the same time I was depressed. Not only did it feel like the universe was rubbing in my face that all my other mes got power, but I felt like a huge burden. I couldn't do anything to help. "Hey, don't feel that way. You know you'd do the same thing in our position." A copy of me said who'd chuckling at the end. "I know, because I'm you. And I don't have to be a mind reader to know what you're thinking or feeling. Just let us take care of things for now, and afterward we will work on finding a way to make you like us." From the distance, I started to make out a bunch of figures, no people, walking toward us. The time had finally come, the war was about to begin. "I've linked all our minds together so we can communicate better. Stay focused and calm, don't do anything rash. We out here to protect the Jacob of this universe." One of me spoke through telepathy as the enemies approached. Smart move linking us all, it's exactly what I'd have done if I had that power. The enemies stopped maybe a mile or so away from us. They then proceeded to link hands. It wasn't a very threatening motion and looked kinda silly for a league of villains. But, then I throughly through their actions and yelled in my head, "They are going to teleport to our position for a surprise attack! Ready yourselves!" It was just in time too. As soon as everyone readied themselves with their enchanted blades, because that's the only thing that can kill another super human for some reason, the enemy appeared in our ranks. Metal started clashing instantly. Different abilities started going off. Fireballs shooting everywhere, rocks being lifted and dropped from the sky, electricity crackling through the air. Another version of me appeared to me, a teleporter, "we have to get you out of here." He said as he grabbed my shoulder and took us away. With the blink of an eye I was on top of a building watching the fight below. I looked over at him as he fell fell to the ground. "Jacob!" I exclaimed running to his side. He had a blade going through his gut. "Don't worry about me. You're safe up here. Just take this in case you need it." He said handing me his dagger. With tears running from his eyes, he looked up at the sky and took his last breath. I was full of anger. Why did I have to be the useless one? Why is it me that has to sit by and watch as others give up their lives for me. As angry as I was, something didn't feel right. The air felt lighter, easier to breathe, fresher. As I sat on top of the building I was in, watching the battle rage on, it wasn't looking good for me. Other versions of myself were dropping left and right. Seeing this it became harder and harder to control my anger, it was causing my breathing to get harder and harder. After awhile, I was the only Jacob left. By this point my breathing was so shallow that I had to sit against the wall of the roof. I couldn't even stand anymore. All I could do is wait for my assailants to show up and do what they came to do, finish me off. Before too long had passed they found me. Around ten of them teleported to the roof. With them was someone who looked to be their leader. "You are so weak and pathetic," he said through his mask, with a distorted voice. "Don't worry, it will be over soon. Then, I shall become the true ruler of all universes. The most powerful being in existence." Now I had no idea what this guy was talking about, and I'm it quite sure what any of this even had to do with me. My heart began to hurt as he approached me. "Why are you doing this?" I asked hoping for clarity before death. He crouched down next to me, "you have no idea who I am, do you?" He asked. He brought his hand up to my face and hovered it from the left side of my head down to my chin. "Don't worry, I feel it too. The pain in your heart, the heaviness of breathing. The pain you feel, I share. But it will all be over soon." He moved his hands to the mask and removed it to reveal a face I was all too familiar with, mine. "You're probably asking yourself why and how? Well, you see, I learned the secret to true power. In order to become the strongest version of myself, I had to become the only version of myself." He unsheathed his sword and examined the blade. "Now, that dream will become a reality. I will become the strongest person in all the universes!" He laughed maniacally. Strongest person in the universe? I was instantly taken back to a memory I had from when I was a little boy. My mother, reading me a bedtime story about my favorite hero. I remembered asking her if one day I'd ever be a hero. She told me, "one day you will become the strongest person in the entire universe. You will be the hero to stop the villain from taking control of everything." Future sight. My mother was gifted. "Now shall we finish up here." Evil me asked. I slowly reached behind my back. "Yes. We shall." I drew the dagger that I was given by my fallen comrade, and thruster it through his chest. As soon as I did, everything turned white. I opened my eyes and I was standing in an empty field. I could feel every single power flowing through my body. I had gone from the useless one, to the most powerful. But, something didn't feel right. I had this weight pushing down on me. A tear came from my eye. I knew what I had to do. I fell into my back in the field. And spread my arms out, the breeze felt so nice, "it's gonna be hard to leave this place." I said to myself out loud. But, then, I let go. I overcharged my body, starting to glow, I released my life force. I used it to bring back all the other versions of myself while simultaneously erasing the league of villains from existence. I couldn't live with myself knowing that my other selves all fought and died for me. So, I did the same for them. I forfeit my life to bring back theirs. As my body stopped glowing, I was back on top of the roof. With the villains gone, and the evil me dead at my side. I didn't have much time left. I heard a loud gasp, and looked over to see the teleporter who brought me up here jump up, perfectly fine with no wounds. He saw me and ran over to me. "What happened? How am I back? Are you okay?" Very weakly I smiled and tapped him on the forehead, I transferred all of my knowledge to him. My eyes began to close and my consciousness fade. I listened to him begin to weep and talk about how they were meant to protect me not the other way around. Typical Jacob. I let out my last breath knowing everything would be fine. Thoughts comments? First time doing this... please be nice ha, I'm not a writer, just liked this prompt.	Quite often I find myself waiting in a bar with the hope that someone will hit on me. I'll have my arm on the counter and smile at passers by and I'll even offer my friends drinks with that loud generosity which is bound to make people nod in respect towards that guy who treats his mates right. Yeah, I would love o get hit on. To get hit? That was not my plan for this evening. But alas, as I stood there waiting patiently for my friends to return from their urgent toilet trip, a fist flew into my face from nowhere and I tumbled backwards into a throng of people all waiting patiently for their drinks. "I'm sorry it had to come to this" a man said. My attacker? I couldn't see. My ears were ringing and my vision was blurred. A hush had descended in the room but my world was awash with noise. Fast breaths rattled from my mouth and my sudden panic left my senses in Overdrive. "Awh he's kinda cute" a girls voice this time, her voice softly seductive and her tone flirtatious. I felt as if I was losing my mind. Had I been hit on after all. Was this an unusual custom from a girl who I hadn't seen? A challenge for her affection, perhaps? I looked up and breathed deeply, trying to make sense of my surroundings. It was then I realised that time had stopped. That wasn't a metaphor. It wasn't as if my adrenaline was causing the world to slow around me. My fight or flight response hadn't triggered a feeling of control and preparation in the face of danger. Time had literally stopped. Behind me, I was propped up by statues of people who had once been abuzz with alcohol and vibrant with energy from a Friday night out. Now they stood frozen and rigid as if someone had switched off the light that shone within them and made them living beings. In front of me were a group of figures, hooded and concealed in long black cloaks. At the front of the pack were two people with their faces revealed. On the left was the man, his fists raised and bloodied. His hair hung loose and stringy from his head and on one side, it was entirely absent. Instead, his skin here was mottled and blisters decorated his scalp like a rocky moor. His eyes were dark, the whites not visible in the dull light of the candles that lit the establishment. His nose was pointed and sharp like his chin and cheekbones. Even his scowl was scathing, drawing daggers across my chest causing my heart to ache as it pounded against its cage. On the right was a woman. Her blonde hair ran in waves from her head and down past her shoulders. Unlike the others, she wore a black top decorated with lace. Her legs were adorned with tight jeans and her arms and shoulders were bare. Despite myself, I couldn't help but notice the press of her chest against her shirt and the way her smile flickered naughtily across her lips. I decided my attention was better placed upon her than the man who had struck me. "What's going on?" I protested, eyes exploring the woman before me. My thoughts were hazy. My mind had slowed and suddenly the situation I was in didn't seem so bad. "Awh honey, don't you worry about a thing" the girl said, stepping forward slowly, holding out her hand. As she stepped, her hips turned and her body flowed like nectar. Despite myself, I reached out for her. If she was telling me I had nothing to worry about, she must be right. Distantly, I could feel a tug of wind on my coat and breathlessness sensation as if my very lungs were gifting my oxygen to the beauty who stood before me. Suddenly, the whole world exploded to life again and I stumbled forward as a heavy hand rested on my shoulder. I turned and saw... Myself? What? No not me. He was rippling with muscle and dressed in a vest and sport shorts. But that face; that hair. It was unmistakable. He looked as if I had been superimposed upon a beach model. I turned away and suddenly I was there again, only this time skinnier that I had ever been. His shirt hung loosely from his skinny shoulders, chequered and poorly buttoned. On his face were glasses and in his hand was a book that was aglow with energy. I turned again and suddenly I was surrounded by a dozen copies of myself, all completely different from each other and I. One was dressed in heavy plate armour holding a sword in each hand. Another wore nearly nothing at all aside from trousers woven from vines that protected nothing but his modesty. One held a rifle and a cybernetic eye whilst another had fists enclosed in fire. One was hovering a few inches from the ground and another flickered in and out of visibility. But something they shared? Something I saw in all of them? Myself. My deep brown eyes and my unruly curly hair. "What, the, fuck?"
	[WP] A league of super-villians from an alternate universe has decided to kill every version of you, their arch enemy in their universe. Now a group of alternate-universe you's has arrived to protect you. You are revealed to be the only version of yourself without super powers.	"Stop." I waved at Steve A-3, who chuckled and withdrew the chopsticks he's been waving in front of my face telekinetically. "Fine, fine. Yo, B-6, I think B-1 wants to talk to you." He yelled across the room. The Steve sitting at the other side of the recreational area looked up from a group of myselves, nodded, and left the room. "So. Decided on how to call us yet?" Another Steve - me - him asked. He was designated S-4, one of the more powerful ones that had came to my aid two years ago. I shrugged. "Dunno. Calling you guys 'me' sounds trippy, and I'm not even sure I can do that. Alternate universes' versions of myself aren't the same as, say, the same person encountering themselves from different timelines. You - well, me, or 'you' if you'd like - can't just go around messing up the timeline and how it flows. But you guys? You're independent. You have your own thoughts, your own free will, your own appearances... hell, out of the two thousands-something of us, we got like sixty girls. That reminds me, C-12, next time I see you "chilling' with D-23, I'll appoint you as my new Frontline Commander." C-12 pouted. "But she's a great person." "She's also you. And me. So stop it before I make you a kamikaze pilot." I frowned at him and returned to my ramen. Truth be told, D-23 was a great person. She - I - loved helping people out, has a great personality... and despite the lack of more awesome powers like S-4's, her power of cooking often saved us from a fate worse than ramen. God, I need to figure out how to call myselves - themselves - soon. Damn it... it's been two fucking years, and I've defeated more supervillains that I can count with all of my fingers, and I still can't figure out a satisfactory system to call myselves? To hell with it. They're not me - sure, the DNA might be the same, but as long as no sex happens, we should be fine, right? We look different (sometimes), act different (sometimes), and even talk different (sometimes). C-204 is British. A-57 is Nigerian. S-9 is a punk-ish girl that was simultaneously a superhero, a globally-wanted criminal and animal rights activist, while holding three degrees of electrical engineering, theatrics and biology. We never had a problem with identifying each other, either - I came up with the idea that everyone be ranked like how they did it in that one anime, and we adopted it. Over time, our numbers grew, but so did the villains'. It got so bad that we had to escape off-world, off-universe, even. This current building we live in actually exists in exactly nowhere - not in time, not in space. A world only accessible to us - theoretically. Of course, being the only one without a superpower, the building had to accommodate me somehow, hence the six-step biometric identification system. If it wasn't me, the intruder gets blasted by something around forty to sixty pulse cannons. Real good stuff. That didn't mean I could relax and forget all about that fateful first day. ---------- "Get up. We're moving." It was sunny. "What can you do?" Well, up until Eclipse manifested his literal namesake. "Who - who the fuck are you?! And... what did you do? HOW?" Darkness. Destruction. Death. "Forget all that. What can you do?" As edgy as you can possibly get. "I... I can hotwire a car?" Nothing made sense in the beginning. My world was turned upside-down. "Not that, you dimwit. Superpowers! That's what you call it, right?" But soon, I learned the truth. We became family. "Uh... nothing! That's fake! Not real! Well, except you guys... but how...?" And on that day, I was changed. Forever. "Thank goodness. We found him, boys. We found Steve Prime.". ---------- "Hey. Hey. Snap out of it!" Someone snapped their fingers in front of my eyes, and I jerked involuntarily. "Huh? Oh. Wait, S-2? Why are you even here?" "My team recovered this artifact. I suspect it to be of great importance." Ever the sophisticated gentleman. "Yeah, yeah, I'll take a look." I noticed the gazes of other Steves, and waved them away. "Upper management business, mind your own, people." A few snickered and made some comments, but went back to their previous activities nonetheless. "So? What is this?" "Take a look." S-2's face was drawn tight, as were the rest of his team. This worried me greatly. "But prepare yourself first. Don't soil yourself." He added, but there was no humour on his face, not the least bit, and it wasn't present on anyone else's face either. Handing me the thin, flat package, he sat down on one of the couches, and looked to me expectingly. Sighing, I opened the package, pulled out the letter, and began reading. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ That's it, folks! If people actually like this, I'll likely write up a Part II for this. Likely. If you guys ever see this - it's not like I'm good at this or is remotely famous, anyway :P	Quite often I find myself waiting in a bar with the hope that someone will hit on me. I'll have my arm on the counter and smile at passers by and I'll even offer my friends drinks with that loud generosity which is bound to make people nod in respect towards that guy who treats his mates right. Yeah, I would love o get hit on. To get hit? That was not my plan for this evening. But alas, as I stood there waiting patiently for my friends to return from their urgent toilet trip, a fist flew into my face from nowhere and I tumbled backwards into a throng of people all waiting patiently for their drinks. "I'm sorry it had to come to this" a man said. My attacker? I couldn't see. My ears were ringing and my vision was blurred. A hush had descended in the room but my world was awash with noise. Fast breaths rattled from my mouth and my sudden panic left my senses in Overdrive. "Awh he's kinda cute" a girls voice this time, her voice softly seductive and her tone flirtatious. I felt as if I was losing my mind. Had I been hit on after all. Was this an unusual custom from a girl who I hadn't seen? A challenge for her affection, perhaps? I looked up and breathed deeply, trying to make sense of my surroundings. It was then I realised that time had stopped. That wasn't a metaphor. It wasn't as if my adrenaline was causing the world to slow around me. My fight or flight response hadn't triggered a feeling of control and preparation in the face of danger. Time had literally stopped. Behind me, I was propped up by statues of people who had once been abuzz with alcohol and vibrant with energy from a Friday night out. Now they stood frozen and rigid as if someone had switched off the light that shone within them and made them living beings. In front of me were a group of figures, hooded and concealed in long black cloaks. At the front of the pack were two people with their faces revealed. On the left was the man, his fists raised and bloodied. His hair hung loose and stringy from his head and on one side, it was entirely absent. Instead, his skin here was mottled and blisters decorated his scalp like a rocky moor. His eyes were dark, the whites not visible in the dull light of the candles that lit the establishment. His nose was pointed and sharp like his chin and cheekbones. Even his scowl was scathing, drawing daggers across my chest causing my heart to ache as it pounded against its cage. On the right was a woman. Her blonde hair ran in waves from her head and down past her shoulders. Unlike the others, she wore a black top decorated with lace. Her legs were adorned with tight jeans and her arms and shoulders were bare. Despite myself, I couldn't help but notice the press of her chest against her shirt and the way her smile flickered naughtily across her lips. I decided my attention was better placed upon her than the man who had struck me. "What's going on?" I protested, eyes exploring the woman before me. My thoughts were hazy. My mind had slowed and suddenly the situation I was in didn't seem so bad. "Awh honey, don't you worry about a thing" the girl said, stepping forward slowly, holding out her hand. As she stepped, her hips turned and her body flowed like nectar. Despite myself, I reached out for her. If she was telling me I had nothing to worry about, she must be right. Distantly, I could feel a tug of wind on my coat and breathlessness sensation as if my very lungs were gifting my oxygen to the beauty who stood before me. Suddenly, the whole world exploded to life again and I stumbled forward as a heavy hand rested on my shoulder. I turned and saw... Myself? What? No not me. He was rippling with muscle and dressed in a vest and sport shorts. But that face; that hair. It was unmistakable. He looked as if I had been superimposed upon a beach model. I turned away and suddenly I was there again, only this time skinnier that I had ever been. His shirt hung loosely from his skinny shoulders, chequered and poorly buttoned. On his face were glasses and in his hand was a book that was aglow with energy. I turned again and suddenly I was surrounded by a dozen copies of myself, all completely different from each other and I. One was dressed in heavy plate armour holding a sword in each hand. Another wore nearly nothing at all aside from trousers woven from vines that protected nothing but his modesty. One held a rifle and a cybernetic eye whilst another had fists enclosed in fire. One was hovering a few inches from the ground and another flickered in and out of visibility. But something they shared? Something I saw in all of them? Myself. My deep brown eyes and my unruly curly hair. "What, the, fuck?"
	[WP] A league of super-villians from an alternate universe has decided to kill every version of you, their arch enemy in their universe. Now a group of alternate-universe you's has arrived to protect you. You are revealed to be the only version of yourself without super powers.	"Stop." I waved at Steve A-3, who chuckled and withdrew the chopsticks he's been waving in front of my face telekinetically. "Fine, fine. Yo, B-6, I think B-1 wants to talk to you." He yelled across the room. The Steve sitting at the other side of the recreational area looked up from a group of myselves, nodded, and left the room. "So. Decided on how to call us yet?" Another Steve - me - him asked. He was designated S-4, one of the more powerful ones that had came to my aid two years ago. I shrugged. "Dunno. Calling you guys 'me' sounds trippy, and I'm not even sure I can do that. Alternate universes' versions of myself aren't the same as, say, the same person encountering themselves from different timelines. You - well, me, or 'you' if you'd like - can't just go around messing up the timeline and how it flows. But you guys? You're independent. You have your own thoughts, your own free will, your own appearances... hell, out of the two thousands-something of us, we got like sixty girls. That reminds me, C-12, next time I see you "chilling' with D-23, I'll appoint you as my new Frontline Commander." C-12 pouted. "But she's a great person." "She's also you. And me. So stop it before I make you a kamikaze pilot." I frowned at him and returned to my ramen. Truth be told, D-23 was a great person. She - I - loved helping people out, has a great personality... and despite the lack of more awesome powers like S-4's, her power of cooking often saved us from a fate worse than ramen. God, I need to figure out how to call myselves - themselves - soon. Damn it... it's been two fucking years, and I've defeated more supervillains that I can count with all of my fingers, and I still can't figure out a satisfactory system to call myselves? To hell with it. They're not me - sure, the DNA might be the same, but as long as no sex happens, we should be fine, right? We look different (sometimes), act different (sometimes), and even talk different (sometimes). C-204 is British. A-57 is Nigerian. S-9 is a punk-ish girl that was simultaneously a superhero, a globally-wanted criminal and animal rights activist, while holding three degrees of electrical engineering, theatrics and biology. We never had a problem with identifying each other, either - I came up with the idea that everyone be ranked like how they did it in that one anime, and we adopted it. Over time, our numbers grew, but so did the villains'. It got so bad that we had to escape off-world, off-universe, even. This current building we live in actually exists in exactly nowhere - not in time, not in space. A world only accessible to us - theoretically. Of course, being the only one without a superpower, the building had to accommodate me somehow, hence the six-step biometric identification system. If it wasn't me, the intruder gets blasted by something around forty to sixty pulse cannons. Real good stuff. That didn't mean I could relax and forget all about that fateful first day. ---------- "Get up. We're moving." It was sunny. "What can you do?" Well, up until Eclipse manifested his literal namesake. "Who - who the fuck are you?! And... what did you do? HOW?" Darkness. Destruction. Death. "Forget all that. What can you do?" As edgy as you can possibly get. "I... I can hotwire a car?" Nothing made sense in the beginning. My world was turned upside-down. "Not that, you dimwit. Superpowers! That's what you call it, right?" But soon, I learned the truth. We became family. "Uh... nothing! That's fake! Not real! Well, except you guys... but how...?" And on that day, I was changed. Forever. "Thank goodness. We found him, boys. We found Steve Prime.". ---------- "Hey. Hey. Snap out of it!" Someone snapped their fingers in front of my eyes, and I jerked involuntarily. "Huh? Oh. Wait, S-2? Why are you even here?" "My team recovered this artifact. I suspect it to be of great importance." Ever the sophisticated gentleman. "Yeah, yeah, I'll take a look." I noticed the gazes of other Steves, and waved them away. "Upper management business, mind your own, people." A few snickered and made some comments, but went back to their previous activities nonetheless. "So? What is this?" "Take a look." S-2's face was drawn tight, as were the rest of his team. This worried me greatly. "But prepare yourself first. Don't soil yourself." He added, but there was no humour on his face, not the least bit, and it wasn't present on anyone else's face either. Handing me the thin, flat package, he sat down on one of the couches, and looked to me expectingly. Sighing, I opened the package, pulled out the letter, and began reading. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ That's it, folks! If people actually like this, I'll likely write up a Part II for this. Likely. If you guys ever see this - it's not like I'm good at this or is remotely famous, anyway :P	Growing up, I always wished I had super powers. I'd always take those "which power would you have" quizzes on Facebook and the ID spend hours daydreaming about what it'd be like to actually have those powers. Super speed, flight, mind control, telekinesis, super strength, you name it and I've dreamt about it. So, you can understand my heartbreak when I am now standing surrounded by other versions of me that have all those things. At first, I was hopeful, maybe I too would be given a power like these guys. Maybe they were here to recruit me into their protection program. But, alas, they told me why they were really here. Not to recruit, but to protect. It was me. I was the one, and not the cool "you're the chosen one" kind of one. But, the one without powers. The helpless one. The one with nothing. I was happy that I, or rather the other mes, were so selfless and were willing to risk theirs lives to come here. At the same time I was depressed. Not only did it feel like the universe was rubbing in my face that all my other mes got power, but I felt like a huge burden. I couldn't do anything to help. "Hey, don't feel that way. You know you'd do the same thing in our position." A copy of me said who'd chuckling at the end. "I know, because I'm you. And I don't have to be a mind reader to know what you're thinking or feeling. Just let us take care of things for now, and afterward we will work on finding a way to make you like us." From the distance, I started to make out a bunch of figures, no people, walking toward us. The time had finally come, the war was about to begin. "I've linked all our minds together so we can communicate better. Stay focused and calm, don't do anything rash. We out here to protect the Jacob of this universe." One of me spoke through telepathy as the enemies approached. Smart move linking us all, it's exactly what I'd have done if I had that power. The enemies stopped maybe a mile or so away from us. They then proceeded to link hands. It wasn't a very threatening motion and looked kinda silly for a league of villains. But, then I throughly through their actions and yelled in my head, "They are going to teleport to our position for a surprise attack! Ready yourselves!" It was just in time too. As soon as everyone readied themselves with their enchanted blades, because that's the only thing that can kill another super human for some reason, the enemy appeared in our ranks. Metal started clashing instantly. Different abilities started going off. Fireballs shooting everywhere, rocks being lifted and dropped from the sky, electricity crackling through the air. Another version of me appeared to me, a teleporter, "we have to get you out of here." He said as he grabbed my shoulder and took us away. With the blink of an eye I was on top of a building watching the fight below. I looked over at him as he fell fell to the ground. "Jacob!" I exclaimed running to his side. He had a blade going through his gut. "Don't worry about me. You're safe up here. Just take this in case you need it." He said handing me his dagger. With tears running from his eyes, he looked up at the sky and took his last breath. I was full of anger. Why did I have to be the useless one? Why is it me that has to sit by and watch as others give up their lives for me. As angry as I was, something didn't feel right. The air felt lighter, easier to breathe, fresher. As I sat on top of the building I was in, watching the battle rage on, it wasn't looking good for me. Other versions of myself were dropping left and right. Seeing this it became harder and harder to control my anger, it was causing my breathing to get harder and harder. After awhile, I was the only Jacob left. By this point my breathing was so shallow that I had to sit against the wall of the roof. I couldn't even stand anymore. All I could do is wait for my assailants to show up and do what they came to do, finish me off. Before too long had passed they found me. Around ten of them teleported to the roof. With them was someone who looked to be their leader. "You are so weak and pathetic," he said through his mask, with a distorted voice. "Don't worry, it will be over soon. Then, I shall become the true ruler of all universes. The most powerful being in existence." Now I had no idea what this guy was talking about, and I'm it quite sure what any of this even had to do with me. My heart began to hurt as he approached me. "Why are you doing this?" I asked hoping for clarity before death. He crouched down next to me, "you have no idea who I am, do you?" He asked. He brought his hand up to my face and hovered it from the left side of my head down to my chin. "Don't worry, I feel it too. The pain in your heart, the heaviness of breathing. The pain you feel, I share. But it will all be over soon." He moved his hands to the mask and removed it to reveal a face I was all too familiar with, mine. "You're probably asking yourself why and how? Well, you see, I learned the secret to true power. In order to become the strongest version of myself, I had to become the only version of myself." He unsheathed his sword and examined the blade. "Now, that dream will become a reality. I will become the strongest person in all the universes!" He laughed maniacally. Strongest person in the universe? I was instantly taken back to a memory I had from when I was a little boy. My mother, reading me a bedtime story about my favorite hero. I remembered asking her if one day I'd ever be a hero. She told me, "one day you will become the strongest person in the entire universe. You will be the hero to stop the villain from taking control of everything." Future sight. My mother was gifted. "Now shall we finish up here." Evil me asked. I slowly reached behind my back. "Yes. We shall." I drew the dagger that I was given by my fallen comrade, and thruster it through his chest. As soon as I did, everything turned white. I opened my eyes and I was standing in an empty field. I could feel every single power flowing through my body. I had gone from the useless one, to the most powerful. But, something didn't feel right. I had this weight pushing down on me. A tear came from my eye. I knew what I had to do. I fell into my back in the field. And spread my arms out, the breeze felt so nice, "it's gonna be hard to leave this place." I said to myself out loud. But, then, I let go. I overcharged my body, starting to glow, I released my life force. I used it to bring back all the other versions of myself while simultaneously erasing the league of villains from existence. I couldn't live with myself knowing that my other selves all fought and died for me. So, I did the same for them. I forfeit my life to bring back theirs. As my body stopped glowing, I was back on top of the roof. With the villains gone, and the evil me dead at my side. I didn't have much time left. I heard a loud gasp, and looked over to see the teleporter who brought me up here jump up, perfectly fine with no wounds. He saw me and ran over to me. "What happened? How am I back? Are you okay?" Very weakly I smiled and tapped him on the forehead, I transferred all of my knowledge to him. My eyes began to close and my consciousness fade. I listened to him begin to weep and talk about how they were meant to protect me not the other way around. Typical Jacob. I let out my last breath knowing everything would be fine. Thoughts comments? First time doing this... please be nice ha, I'm not a writer, just liked this prompt.
	[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?"	"Where are they?" ask the Kriskan "What transpired? What made them go? What caused the disappearance of the Humans long ago? A global war? A deadly plague? A meteor impact? And how did you survive it all? What kept just you intact?" "I wasn't there, my Kriskan chum" the last Human explained. "I left Earth to explore, and when I came back, none remained. The entirety of Humankind has vanished, to my woe. I wish I knew where they went, but the truth is: I don't know."	A deep sigh fell from her mouth as her tired mind processed the question. She repeated it back to the small creature, which body seemed to pulsate with the rhythm of a heartbeat. "What did they do?" She repeated back to the questioner. It seemed to nod. "When we could not kill our enemies, we killed ourselves. That was our favorite party trick." "And how did you survive?" One being warbled. "I was the enemy, that did not let itself get killed."
	[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?"	I pause and rub the smooth surface of the podium in front of me, for a moment the room is silent before I sigh and give out my answer. "They were living their lives." The room exploded, each and every alien demanded answers and clarifications to my statement. It is not surprising it is obvious that such an answer would inspire rage and frustration among those who receive it. "Please calm your selves let me explain. It is a hard question for me to think about, I'm sure you can understand." I look to the side and take a deep breath before returning my gaze to the audience, "As I said they lived their lives." I close my eyes and clench my fists, "They woke up and prepared for the day, they walked out of their homes and went about their lives." "They meandered and worked, they studied and played. The pursued their dreams and tried to create their passions." The auditorium was silent stunned at my words, it was no surprise that this was their reaction. After all it is hard to wrap one's head around the fact that one's last days plays so innocently. I take a few moments to gather my composure and sighed, "But of course the last thing they ever did was die." The room's atmosphere darkened and I fought to keep my expression under control. "Before that they ran and before that they prayed. They begged and bartered for their lives making declarations and empty promises for a chance to continue to draw breath. It was all meaningless in the end since their last action was to lay still forever." I compose myself and bow making my way out of the stage but a question stops me, "What did you do to survive?" A voice yells out shattering the fragile silence that I was leaving behind. I turned and smiled at the general direction of the voice and chuckled, "I can't answer that specifically since I had no idea myself. But I can tell you my action before doing what I did that somehow led me here." I raised and finger in the air and mimed the action of pressing something down with my finger, "I made a decision."	A deep sigh fell from her mouth as her tired mind processed the question. She repeated it back to the small creature, which body seemed to pulsate with the rhythm of a heartbeat. "What did they do?" She repeated back to the questioner. It seemed to nod. "When we could not kill our enemies, we killed ourselves. That was our favorite party trick." "And how did you survive?" One being warbled. "I was the enemy, that did not let itself get killed."
	[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?"	I smirked beneath my armor, behind my breathing apparatus. It was common for people to come up after the lecture was over to ask me questions, but they almost never asked about the very end. I guess they mostly didn't really think about it; if people were dead, they were dead. Why ask what happened in their dying moments? "That's two questions," I said, stalling for time as the others left the room, leaving me behind with the short alien. The creature scowled at me. Or at least, I'm pretty sure it was a scowl; I'd gotten a lot of practice in all the years that followed my escape from Earth, but every time I ran into a new species, I had to learn their expressions all over again. Still, these were, at least, humanoid, no matter the fact that they had facial tentacles on their cheeks. "Fine, then. How did the humans really die? You said it was a plague, but that's obviously a lie; your species was far too advanced to die to disease." "Millions died every year from disease," I said, reaching up to the side of my helmet to click off the microphone, so that I was only speaking locally instead of broadcasting my voice across the empty auditorium. "But you're not wrong. It wasn't a normal disease. It was something nasty. In the end, we developed the technology necessary to make custom-made bioweapons. We could make a cure for anything, given time. But something bad enough, that spread fast enough?" I lifted a gauntleted hand to snap my fingers. "Why would anyone do such a thing?" My questioner wiggled their facial tentacles in distress. "Humans were bastards. They raped, plundered, pillaged, and killed all the time. We had food rot in storage while people starved in warzones. Hell, we had warzones; you people haven't had a war in centuries. Even when they weren't killing each other, people were stealing and being jerks and arguing and fighting." "You don't sound like you liked your own species very much." I sighed under my mask. "I didn't, kid. I mean, some of them were nice enough, but..." The alien's facial tentacles squirmed as if trying to get off of its face, but the alien's big eyes never left me. "What happened?" "Everything went to hell in a handbasket - that means bad. A lot of people died." My armored boots clicked against the tile floor as we moved off the carpet and into the halls leading towards the launch area. "I didn't have any friends left by the end of it all." The alien stared down at my feet as I strode down the hall. "You said that someone made a horrible disease to kill everyone. You said there wasn't a cure." It lifted its eyes to look up at me. "Why didn't you die?" "Well, technically, I said that there wasn't enough time for them to find one. There was a cure, they just didn't make it in time. I did, though." "So you figured it out, but everyone else was already dead? That's horrible!" "Hey, I never said I figured it out after everyone else died. Fact is, I made the cure before the first person even got sick." The alien stopped in the hall, staring. "Why didn't you share it?" I stopped and turned around, my grin hidden by my helmet. "Well, that'd kind of defeat the point of making the bug in the first place, wouldn't it?"	A deep sigh fell from her mouth as her tired mind processed the question. She repeated it back to the small creature, which body seemed to pulsate with the rhythm of a heartbeat. "What did they do?" She repeated back to the questioner. It seemed to nod. "When we could not kill our enemies, we killed ourselves. That was our favorite party trick." "And how did you survive?" One being warbled. "I was the enemy, that did not let itself get killed."
	[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?"	I suppose I did say any question didn't I? A single question for each student who had demonstrated a tremendous aptitude for the subject, those were the rules. If any student ever had deserved that distinction, Andra certainly did, in all my years teaching I had never seen a single study demonstrate her sheer tenacity in studying my lost culture. It did my old heart good knowing that someone besides the AIG (Automated Information Gatherer) would remember our once great civilization. "Would you like me to repeat the question?", Came her voice, piercing through my haze of thoughts. Oh Andra, if only you knew full ramifications of your question, you never would have asked. "No thank you, Andra. Unlike some people in this class, I possess an attention span longer than 5 seconds. For those of you not paying attention, sit up. You'll want to listen to this one. The question was for me to detail the fall of humanity and how I alone survived. " Instantly, the class perked up. I had been dodging this question all year, the question on everyone's lips, for some the question they joined the class to hear the answer to. "It was the year 2050. Technology had continued its steady march forward, hand in hand with progress. Humanity had just made contact with the Universal Council, and it seemed like a golden age was beginning for humanity, finally, after all the suffering of the 21st century, humans would reach the stars. I was an envoy for humanity, located in the Universal Council Hall, discussing matters with the Universal President at the time, a strict Zyrion by the name of Gendar. That memory, staring through the window of the presidential office at Earth below, so full of hope for the future of all mankind, and so glad that the worst was behind us, One Earth, as our new peace movement was called, had been united at last. I saw America, which began as a bastion of peace and hope, now returning at last to its former ideals. Then I saw the clouds. Great billowing orange clouds erupting from the East Coast of America, coating the seaboard with radioactive fallout. For a moment, I thought it was over. That we could punish those who had committed such a horrendous crime and then join the stars. What a fool I was. The Universal President, upon seeing the destructive power of humanity, upon seeing what crimes we committed against our own species, could not less us continue, indeed could not even let us exist in the first place. He called an emergency meeting for the UC, which gave the unanimous agreement necessary to use the Time Vortex. To go back in time and erase Humanity from ever evolving past a primitive rodent. And so they did. They locked me in a time vault to ensure I remained, and erased Humans from existence. Apart from me... " "Sir?", Andra's voice was tentative now, soothing, "Humanity was part of the Council, if you were an emissary up there. Did they refuse to give you your vote?" "No Andra, the Council would never allow such a breach of law." My voice, which I had managed to keep strong for the rest of the lecture began to crack. "I had my vote, and I voted yes." "But that means...." "Yes. I destroyed my own civilization." I heard my voice turn flat, sounding wrong in my ear. "I made it so an estimated 127,344,802, 918 people were never born. Among those, all had been children. Most had had children. Everyone had a father, and a mother. Mozart's requiem was never written. Albert Einstein's name is unknown outside this classroom. Alexander the Great? Less than the dust he was in my time. Martin Luther King never had a dream. Every soldier who ever sacrificed their life for their country? Their names are less than a memory. All because some idiot had to get the last laugh with a nuclear warhead stronger than any ever used in any other war." I realized that I was screaming. Taking a shaky breath, I calmed my self, straightened my bow-tie, and settled back into the eccentric alien teacher everyone expected me to be. "Class dismissed."	A deep sigh fell from her mouth as her tired mind processed the question. She repeated it back to the small creature, which body seemed to pulsate with the rhythm of a heartbeat. "What did they do?" She repeated back to the questioner. It seemed to nod. "When we could not kill our enemies, we killed ourselves. That was our favorite party trick." "And how did you survive?" One being warbled. "I was the enemy, that did not let itself get killed."
	[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?"	It was a strange question. I had never been asked it nor had I ever thought to prepare for it. It was silent, every life-form in attendance waiting on an answer. I stared hard at the hooded figure. It's face was concealed by a mask and it wore a thick flowing hooded robe. The audience was getting restless. A life-form in the back shouted out, "Well?! What's the story?" The rest of the crowd began to murmur as my silence endured. Others began shouting as well. Calling out to me for an answer. I stood there perplexed, unable to process the request. I leaned into the mic and the crowd fell quiet. "I don't know." I said with finality in my tone. The crowd exploded. Shouting, jeering, objects, all came raining down on the stage. I stood still, staring down the hooded figure. It slowly turned heading for the exit. As it did, it motioned it's arm in a way that I recognized from my long lost culture. I spoke into the mic, "I am sorry everyone the rest of the show is cancelled." The crowd continued there jeering as I exited the stage. I rushed outside to see the hooded figure getting into a spacecraft. I could feel it's stare on me and I walked over. The jeering crowd busted through the front doors of the theatre, calling for my head. They saw me and began to advance. The hooded figure motioned for me to get in. Obliging, we pulled up and exited the atmosphere of the planet. For some time we sat in silence. The hooded figure never looked away from the expanse of space in front of us. I broke the uncomfortable silence. "What exactly made you ask that question? In all my travels I have never had a life-form ask me that." The hooded figure stayed motionless but it responded to my question. "You are a pawn. I saved you back there from spouting any more nonsense. You need not fear for your life either, my kind is friend to your people." "My people?!" I said puzzled. "Do you not know who I am? My people are dead! I'm the last of my kind!" "If that were true then you should have be able to have answered my question." The hooded figure retorted, a tone of exasperation in it's voice. I stood there stunned. Soaking up the fact I may not be the last human. A sense of joy and excitement washed over me, I needed to know more. "Well then what do you speak of when you say I'm a pawn? And what do you mean nonsense? The stories I told were of my kind, the stories of humanity! And who the hell are you?!" "Enough! For the love of quasar just shut up." The hooded figure said with a raised voice. "You humans always ask too many questions, it hurts my processors." "Processors? Wait... Are you even a life form?!" I exclaimed as I grabbed for the hooded figures robe. Pulling it back, a streak of blonde and a metal board along the back of the head were prominent. I was pushed back by the figure. "What are you? I've never seen such bio-mechanical augmentation in my travels." I said with awe. The hooded figure stood up and cast off the robe. It possessed skin over most of it's body. Metal was exposed in places fused with bone. Muscle laced with wire and cable were also visible. The exposed thing shouted at me, "I'M THE FINAL TRAGEDY. WE DIDN'T DIE, WE DID SOMETHING WORSE!" It began to cry... it was strange to see something like it cry. I stood against the wall, stunned. "What... what happened to you?" I asked. The exposed sat back down, tears falling out of one eye. "I know about you. How you 'survived' " It said through choked sobs. "You were an astronaut, right around the time we figured out how to travel between star systems. You got lucky... so very lucky. A few months after your mission was launched it went radio silent. The governments of the world took this as a chance to invoke fear and panic. It gave them the go ahead to start preparing for what they thought was the 'worst.'" It said, a quiver in it's voice. "What was the worst?" I asked. It glared at me, "I'm getting to it." she said venomously. "They drafted people for all kinds of experimental programs. Saying it was for the sake and safety of humanity. Everyone bought it. They only put out the ones that worked. Amassing an army of augmented and powerful humans. Never showing the public 'screw-ups' like me. They abused their powers, dominating Earth and enslaving it. They learned how to make more and eventually there appetite extended to the stars. They were unopposed in every conquest they undertook. Nobody ever thought to defend against a extinct line of life-forms." She finished, her glare intensifying on me. I sat down, absorbing the information. "You mean... I... I've been telling the galaxy we're all dead... When we're really enslaving it?!" I asked, feeling a pit begin to form in my stomach. "Precisely. You needed to be stopped. You needed to hear this truth so that you could begin to warn other life-forms of our existence." It said. "I... I'm sorry. I don't remember much of my mission... I just thought we were all dead from the last transmission I received." I said with my head in my hands. "It was all part of their plan. You were expendable anyways and they figured they'd take a shot on you making their conquest easier. It paid off handsomely." It responded. I sat there thinking about all the life-forms I'd potentially killed. All the horrors they'd be exposed to because of me. It was a lot to take in. "Hold on, you said I could warn others? Like help? I can help stop them?!" I asked excitedly. "Yes you can. You need to start by rallying your own kind." It finished. "My own kind?" I asked confused. As I said the words, the spacecraft slowed down. A planet could be seen in the distance. Blue poked through the ashy atmosphere surrounding it. I walked up to the window on the deck, my mouth agape. "You can't fight back with just words. You're gonna need an army of your own." It said proudly. I looked back at it, "Hey, I never got your name." "I don't have one." It said. "I lost it long ago." "Er... Sorry, do you have something I could call you by then?" I asked. "How about Lucy? It's easy enough to remember." Lucy looked at me, "I like it." I smiled to myself. This was exciting, I really was getting tired of telling the same boring stories over and over again. I was happy to be given an opportunity to make my own. *** Hope you liked it! Other stories over at r/TheYogiBearhaWrites if you like go check them out. Edit: A word that really really bugged me. It's better now.	A deep sigh fell from her mouth as her tired mind processed the question. She repeated it back to the small creature, which body seemed to pulsate with the rhythm of a heartbeat. "What did they do?" She repeated back to the questioner. It seemed to nod. "When we could not kill our enemies, we killed ourselves. That was our favorite party trick." "And how did you survive?" One being warbled. "I was the enemy, that did not let itself get killed."
	[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?"	"And thus concludes our discussion of World War 4. Any questions before we end this lecture?" Nobody raised their hand. Unsurprising for a first year xeno-history course on a long dead race. Most people here probably probably took this as a "bird course" anyways... "Well then, have a nice weekend everyone. Next week we will discuss World War 5. Or 'The End of Humanity' as some like to call it." The students began to shuffle out of the lecture hall. However, one of them approached me as I packed my notes into my bag. I recognized them immediately - Quesu - she was an amazing student. "Professor," she began, "may I ask you a question?" "Of course Quesu, what's your question?" "It's about you, but still about the course. I hope it's not too personal." "Ask away!" Quesu cleared her throat and asked, "what did you do during the end of humanity? How did you survive?" Nobody had really asked about my experience during the end of humanity before. Most people just cared about the grade, which most of them didn't get anyways. I didn't really have an answer prepared... "Uh well... I guess we could start from the beginning, with some context. Despite how most people would imagine it, the real end of humanity wasn't from all of us burning to ashes in nuclear fireballs. Although, that was how the majority of it went down for most people." "That's horrible..." I agreed with her - she was right, none of the 8 races in the Galactic Federation would use nuclear weapons in a conflict on an inhabited planet. But humanity was never one of those races - and we did it in two different wars. "Anyways," I said as I moved on, "the real end of humanity was when the survivors off world mingling with the other Federation races began to disappear. There were about a thousand of us at the start, we were all people like professors who were exchanging information with other academics in the galaxy. When word started to spread about the war, we became a bit of a collector's item." "What do you mean?" I sighed, remembering what I had seen or heard about. I remembered hearing of how human beings were being found dead in the homes of demented collectors after missing persons reports. I remembered that serial killer hunting humans as rare trophies. I remembered those perverts that took away Alex before knocking me out... Quesu noticed right away that I was having trouble replying. She quickly powered up her smart-lens to do some searches on Galapedia and covered her mouth as she skimmed over some of the higher profile cases. She excused herself, leaving me alone in the lecture hall as I remembered those days. After a few minutes, the university's security guards found me behind the lectern with my head in my hands. "Finished with your lecture professor?" "Yes..." "Then you know the drill then. Off to the science wing." The guards wouldn't have much leniency, as usual. So I picked up my bag and let them escort me back home for the night.	A deep sigh fell from her mouth as her tired mind processed the question. She repeated it back to the small creature, which body seemed to pulsate with the rhythm of a heartbeat. "What did they do?" She repeated back to the questioner. It seemed to nod. "When we could not kill our enemies, we killed ourselves. That was our favorite party trick." "And how did you survive?" One being warbled. "I was the enemy, that did not let itself get killed."
	[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?"	I smirked beneath my armor, behind my breathing apparatus. It was common for people to come up after the lecture was over to ask me questions, but they almost never asked about the very end. I guess they mostly didn't really think about it; if people were dead, they were dead. Why ask what happened in their dying moments? "That's two questions," I said, stalling for time as the others left the room, leaving me behind with the short alien. The creature scowled at me. Or at least, I'm pretty sure it was a scowl; I'd gotten a lot of practice in all the years that followed my escape from Earth, but every time I ran into a new species, I had to learn their expressions all over again. Still, these were, at least, humanoid, no matter the fact that they had facial tentacles on their cheeks. "Fine, then. How did the humans really die? You said it was a plague, but that's obviously a lie; your species was far too advanced to die to disease." "Millions died every year from disease," I said, reaching up to the side of my helmet to click off the microphone, so that I was only speaking locally instead of broadcasting my voice across the empty auditorium. "But you're not wrong. It wasn't a normal disease. It was something nasty. In the end, we developed the technology necessary to make custom-made bioweapons. We could make a cure for anything, given time. But something bad enough, that spread fast enough?" I lifted a gauntleted hand to snap my fingers. "Why would anyone do such a thing?" My questioner wiggled their facial tentacles in distress. "Humans were bastards. They raped, plundered, pillaged, and killed all the time. We had food rot in storage while people starved in warzones. Hell, we had warzones; you people haven't had a war in centuries. Even when they weren't killing each other, people were stealing and being jerks and arguing and fighting." "You don't sound like you liked your own species very much." I sighed under my mask. "I didn't, kid. I mean, some of them were nice enough, but..." The alien's facial tentacles squirmed as if trying to get off of its face, but the alien's big eyes never left me. "What happened?" "Everything went to hell in a handbasket - that means bad. A lot of people died." My armored boots clicked against the tile floor as we moved off the carpet and into the halls leading towards the launch area. "I didn't have any friends left by the end of it all." The alien stared down at my feet as I strode down the hall. "You said that someone made a horrible disease to kill everyone. You said there wasn't a cure." It lifted its eyes to look up at me. "Why didn't you die?" "Well, technically, I said that there wasn't enough time for them to find one. There was a cure, they just didn't make it in time. I did, though." "So you figured it out, but everyone else was already dead? That's horrible!" "Hey, I never said I figured it out after everyone else died. Fact is, I made the cure before the first person even got sick." The alien stopped in the hall, staring. "Why didn't you share it?" I stopped and turned around, my grin hidden by my helmet. "Well, that'd kind of defeat the point of making the bug in the first place, wouldn't it?"	The question seems to echo through the room, followed by silence as if spoken in a tomb. As the final word touches his ears, it begins to trigger a memory he most fears. The mission was a simple one; to safeguard the seeds of humanity. Such horror had been done, the war released such insanity. Through several incidences of misfortune, the human race was reduced to almost nothing. Mankind's savor was eventually chosen. One that was susposed to bring a new beginning. The rocket that was carrying the the savor and the seeds, was inappropriately praised and named The Ark of Adam. Unfortunately destiny is bound by the actions of past deeds, and although we try to forget our scars we cannot hide them. In the end it came down to just a few moments, a choice between self preservation or heroics. A tear slides down the old mans cheek, for a moment he losses his ability to speak. "Fear of death will drive some men to madness, some men to greatness. I did what I had to do."
	[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?"	I pause and rub the smooth surface of the podium in front of me, for a moment the room is silent before I sigh and give out my answer. "They were living their lives." The room exploded, each and every alien demanded answers and clarifications to my statement. It is not surprising it is obvious that such an answer would inspire rage and frustration among those who receive it. "Please calm your selves let me explain. It is a hard question for me to think about, I'm sure you can understand." I look to the side and take a deep breath before returning my gaze to the audience, "As I said they lived their lives." I close my eyes and clench my fists, "They woke up and prepared for the day, they walked out of their homes and went about their lives." "They meandered and worked, they studied and played. The pursued their dreams and tried to create their passions." The auditorium was silent stunned at my words, it was no surprise that this was their reaction. After all it is hard to wrap one's head around the fact that one's last days plays so innocently. I take a few moments to gather my composure and sighed, "But of course the last thing they ever did was die." The room's atmosphere darkened and I fought to keep my expression under control. "Before that they ran and before that they prayed. They begged and bartered for their lives making declarations and empty promises for a chance to continue to draw breath. It was all meaningless in the end since their last action was to lay still forever." I compose myself and bow making my way out of the stage but a question stops me, "What did you do to survive?" A voice yells out shattering the fragile silence that I was leaving behind. I turned and smiled at the general direction of the voice and chuckled, "I can't answer that specifically since I had no idea myself. But I can tell you my action before doing what I did that somehow led me here." I raised and finger in the air and mimed the action of pressing something down with my finger, "I made a decision."	"Where are they?" ask the Kriskan "What transpired? What made them go? What caused the disappearance of the Humans long ago? A global war? A deadly plague? A meteor impact? And how did you survive it all? What kept just you intact?" "I wasn't there, my Kriskan chum" the last Human explained. "I left Earth to explore, and when I came back, none remained. The entirety of Humankind has vanished, to my woe. I wish I knew where they went, but the truth is: I don't know."
	[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?"	I smirked beneath my armor, behind my breathing apparatus. It was common for people to come up after the lecture was over to ask me questions, but they almost never asked about the very end. I guess they mostly didn't really think about it; if people were dead, they were dead. Why ask what happened in their dying moments? "That's two questions," I said, stalling for time as the others left the room, leaving me behind with the short alien. The creature scowled at me. Or at least, I'm pretty sure it was a scowl; I'd gotten a lot of practice in all the years that followed my escape from Earth, but every time I ran into a new species, I had to learn their expressions all over again. Still, these were, at least, humanoid, no matter the fact that they had facial tentacles on their cheeks. "Fine, then. How did the humans really die? You said it was a plague, but that's obviously a lie; your species was far too advanced to die to disease." "Millions died every year from disease," I said, reaching up to the side of my helmet to click off the microphone, so that I was only speaking locally instead of broadcasting my voice across the empty auditorium. "But you're not wrong. It wasn't a normal disease. It was something nasty. In the end, we developed the technology necessary to make custom-made bioweapons. We could make a cure for anything, given time. But something bad enough, that spread fast enough?" I lifted a gauntleted hand to snap my fingers. "Why would anyone do such a thing?" My questioner wiggled their facial tentacles in distress. "Humans were bastards. They raped, plundered, pillaged, and killed all the time. We had food rot in storage while people starved in warzones. Hell, we had warzones; you people haven't had a war in centuries. Even when they weren't killing each other, people were stealing and being jerks and arguing and fighting." "You don't sound like you liked your own species very much." I sighed under my mask. "I didn't, kid. I mean, some of them were nice enough, but..." The alien's facial tentacles squirmed as if trying to get off of its face, but the alien's big eyes never left me. "What happened?" "Everything went to hell in a handbasket - that means bad. A lot of people died." My armored boots clicked against the tile floor as we moved off the carpet and into the halls leading towards the launch area. "I didn't have any friends left by the end of it all." The alien stared down at my feet as I strode down the hall. "You said that someone made a horrible disease to kill everyone. You said there wasn't a cure." It lifted its eyes to look up at me. "Why didn't you die?" "Well, technically, I said that there wasn't enough time for them to find one. There was a cure, they just didn't make it in time. I did, though." "So you figured it out, but everyone else was already dead? That's horrible!" "Hey, I never said I figured it out after everyone else died. Fact is, I made the cure before the first person even got sick." The alien stopped in the hall, staring. "Why didn't you share it?" I stopped and turned around, my grin hidden by my helmet. "Well, that'd kind of defeat the point of making the bug in the first place, wouldn't it?"	"Where are they?" ask the Kriskan "What transpired? What made them go? What caused the disappearance of the Humans long ago? A global war? A deadly plague? A meteor impact? And how did you survive it all? What kept just you intact?" "I wasn't there, my Kriskan chum" the last Human explained. "I left Earth to explore, and when I came back, none remained. The entirety of Humankind has vanished, to my woe. I wish I knew where they went, but the truth is: I don't know."
	[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?"	It was a strange question. I had never been asked it nor had I ever thought to prepare for it. It was silent, every life-form in attendance waiting on an answer. I stared hard at the hooded figure. It's face was concealed by a mask and it wore a thick flowing hooded robe. The audience was getting restless. A life-form in the back shouted out, "Well?! What's the story?" The rest of the crowd began to murmur as my silence endured. Others began shouting as well. Calling out to me for an answer. I stood there perplexed, unable to process the request. I leaned into the mic and the crowd fell quiet. "I don't know." I said with finality in my tone. The crowd exploded. Shouting, jeering, objects, all came raining down on the stage. I stood still, staring down the hooded figure. It slowly turned heading for the exit. As it did, it motioned it's arm in a way that I recognized from my long lost culture. I spoke into the mic, "I am sorry everyone the rest of the show is cancelled." The crowd continued there jeering as I exited the stage. I rushed outside to see the hooded figure getting into a spacecraft. I could feel it's stare on me and I walked over. The jeering crowd busted through the front doors of the theatre, calling for my head. They saw me and began to advance. The hooded figure motioned for me to get in. Obliging, we pulled up and exited the atmosphere of the planet. For some time we sat in silence. The hooded figure never looked away from the expanse of space in front of us. I broke the uncomfortable silence. "What exactly made you ask that question? In all my travels I have never had a life-form ask me that." The hooded figure stayed motionless but it responded to my question. "You are a pawn. I saved you back there from spouting any more nonsense. You need not fear for your life either, my kind is friend to your people." "My people?!" I said puzzled. "Do you not know who I am? My people are dead! I'm the last of my kind!" "If that were true then you should have be able to have answered my question." The hooded figure retorted, a tone of exasperation in it's voice. I stood there stunned. Soaking up the fact I may not be the last human. A sense of joy and excitement washed over me, I needed to know more. "Well then what do you speak of when you say I'm a pawn? And what do you mean nonsense? The stories I told were of my kind, the stories of humanity! And who the hell are you?!" "Enough! For the love of quasar just shut up." The hooded figure said with a raised voice. "You humans always ask too many questions, it hurts my processors." "Processors? Wait... Are you even a life form?!" I exclaimed as I grabbed for the hooded figures robe. Pulling it back, a streak of blonde and a metal board along the back of the head were prominent. I was pushed back by the figure. "What are you? I've never seen such bio-mechanical augmentation in my travels." I said with awe. The hooded figure stood up and cast off the robe. It possessed skin over most of it's body. Metal was exposed in places fused with bone. Muscle laced with wire and cable were also visible. The exposed thing shouted at me, "I'M THE FINAL TRAGEDY. WE DIDN'T DIE, WE DID SOMETHING WORSE!" It began to cry... it was strange to see something like it cry. I stood against the wall, stunned. "What... what happened to you?" I asked. The exposed sat back down, tears falling out of one eye. "I know about you. How you 'survived' " It said through choked sobs. "You were an astronaut, right around the time we figured out how to travel between star systems. You got lucky... so very lucky. A few months after your mission was launched it went radio silent. The governments of the world took this as a chance to invoke fear and panic. It gave them the go ahead to start preparing for what they thought was the 'worst.'" It said, a quiver in it's voice. "What was the worst?" I asked. It glared at me, "I'm getting to it." she said venomously. "They drafted people for all kinds of experimental programs. Saying it was for the sake and safety of humanity. Everyone bought it. They only put out the ones that worked. Amassing an army of augmented and powerful humans. Never showing the public 'screw-ups' like me. They abused their powers, dominating Earth and enslaving it. They learned how to make more and eventually there appetite extended to the stars. They were unopposed in every conquest they undertook. Nobody ever thought to defend against a extinct line of life-forms." She finished, her glare intensifying on me. I sat down, absorbing the information. "You mean... I... I've been telling the galaxy we're all dead... When we're really enslaving it?!" I asked, feeling a pit begin to form in my stomach. "Precisely. You needed to be stopped. You needed to hear this truth so that you could begin to warn other life-forms of our existence." It said. "I... I'm sorry. I don't remember much of my mission... I just thought we were all dead from the last transmission I received." I said with my head in my hands. "It was all part of their plan. You were expendable anyways and they figured they'd take a shot on you making their conquest easier. It paid off handsomely." It responded. I sat there thinking about all the life-forms I'd potentially killed. All the horrors they'd be exposed to because of me. It was a lot to take in. "Hold on, you said I could warn others? Like help? I can help stop them?!" I asked excitedly. "Yes you can. You need to start by rallying your own kind." It finished. "My own kind?" I asked confused. As I said the words, the spacecraft slowed down. A planet could be seen in the distance. Blue poked through the ashy atmosphere surrounding it. I walked up to the window on the deck, my mouth agape. "You can't fight back with just words. You're gonna need an army of your own." It said proudly. I looked back at it, "Hey, I never got your name." "I don't have one." It said. "I lost it long ago." "Er... Sorry, do you have something I could call you by then?" I asked. "How about Lucy? It's easy enough to remember." Lucy looked at me, "I like it." I smiled to myself. This was exciting, I really was getting tired of telling the same boring stories over and over again. I was happy to be given an opportunity to make my own. *** Hope you liked it! Other stories over at r/TheYogiBearhaWrites if you like go check them out. Edit: A word that really really bugged me. It's better now.	"So you see, they did not understand. Those ignorant humans just did what they thought was right without thinking and all hell broke loose..." I made some exaggeration motions with my arms and the audience gave out a low gasp. "And that started the war?" "Yes, exactly... That was the whole start of the war. Many good lives was lost, such a tragedy, but I guess that doesn't matter any more. It was a really long time ago and all other humans are gone now anyways. It's solely to me and you that it's seen as a tragedy right now." The audience around me grew silent and bowed their head as in mourning. But suddenly, a frail voice cut through the silence. "Mister, all the things you say is from a long time ago you say. You say that all of humankind is dead, how did it happen? How did you survive and no one else?" I searched the audience to try and locate the source of the voice, but in vain. "Sorry, I have told you too many stories already..." I tried to come up with an excuse to leave. I should have thought that this question would come, I should have prepared a story. I couldn't tell them the truth, if I did they would surely abandoned me just like everyone else. "Yeah, tell us that story mister!" The audience cried out. "No, no, I think-" "Please!" They cried out. The memories of that day started to surface, the bloodshed, it had been all my fault. The guilt was overwhelming. I covered my face with my hands. "Mister?" A young child came forward and tugged at my sleeve. "I SAID NO!" I screamed and threw out my arm almost hitting the girl. She immediately backed off, fright in her eyes. I looked around to meet the eyes of the audience. They were looking at me differently. Like they were accusing me, laughing at me. I looked away, knowing that it was just in my head. I knew that it was a bad idea to trust those men that day. I should have trusted my instincts... but the things they promised me where so tempting. Only that they lead to humanities death. My own race, dead, gone, forever. I am alone, so alone. "I KNOW I WAS WRONG!" I screamed at the audience spitting everywhere. "But what was I suppose to do...?" I sighed and leaned back in my chair, feeling empty inside. "Mister, were you one of the ignorant humans?" The girl from before shyly asked while keeping her distance. I smiled and looked over at her. "Yes." --- Well, this was bad. Bye.
	[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?"	"And thus concludes our discussion of World War 4. Any questions before we end this lecture?" Nobody raised their hand. Unsurprising for a first year xeno-history course on a long dead race. Most people here probably probably took this as a "bird course" anyways... "Well then, have a nice weekend everyone. Next week we will discuss World War 5. Or 'The End of Humanity' as some like to call it." The students began to shuffle out of the lecture hall. However, one of them approached me as I packed my notes into my bag. I recognized them immediately - Quesu - she was an amazing student. "Professor," she began, "may I ask you a question?" "Of course Quesu, what's your question?" "It's about you, but still about the course. I hope it's not too personal." "Ask away!" Quesu cleared her throat and asked, "what did you do during the end of humanity? How did you survive?" Nobody had really asked about my experience during the end of humanity before. Most people just cared about the grade, which most of them didn't get anyways. I didn't really have an answer prepared... "Uh well... I guess we could start from the beginning, with some context. Despite how most people would imagine it, the real end of humanity wasn't from all of us burning to ashes in nuclear fireballs. Although, that was how the majority of it went down for most people." "That's horrible..." I agreed with her - she was right, none of the 8 races in the Galactic Federation would use nuclear weapons in a conflict on an inhabited planet. But humanity was never one of those races - and we did it in two different wars. "Anyways," I said as I moved on, "the real end of humanity was when the survivors off world mingling with the other Federation races began to disappear. There were about a thousand of us at the start, we were all people like professors who were exchanging information with other academics in the galaxy. When word started to spread about the war, we became a bit of a collector's item." "What do you mean?" I sighed, remembering what I had seen or heard about. I remembered hearing of how human beings were being found dead in the homes of demented collectors after missing persons reports. I remembered that serial killer hunting humans as rare trophies. I remembered those perverts that took away Alex before knocking me out... Quesu noticed right away that I was having trouble replying. She quickly powered up her smart-lens to do some searches on Galapedia and covered her mouth as she skimmed over some of the higher profile cases. She excused herself, leaving me alone in the lecture hall as I remembered those days. After a few minutes, the university's security guards found me behind the lectern with my head in my hands. "Finished with your lecture professor?" "Yes..." "Then you know the drill then. Off to the science wing." The guards wouldn't have much leniency, as usual. So I picked up my bag and let them escort me back home for the night.	"So you see, they did not understand. Those ignorant humans just did what they thought was right without thinking and all hell broke loose..." I made some exaggeration motions with my arms and the audience gave out a low gasp. "And that started the war?" "Yes, exactly... That was the whole start of the war. Many good lives was lost, such a tragedy, but I guess that doesn't matter any more. It was a really long time ago and all other humans are gone now anyways. It's solely to me and you that it's seen as a tragedy right now." The audience around me grew silent and bowed their head as in mourning. But suddenly, a frail voice cut through the silence. "Mister, all the things you say is from a long time ago you say. You say that all of humankind is dead, how did it happen? How did you survive and no one else?" I searched the audience to try and locate the source of the voice, but in vain. "Sorry, I have told you too many stories already..." I tried to come up with an excuse to leave. I should have thought that this question would come, I should have prepared a story. I couldn't tell them the truth, if I did they would surely abandoned me just like everyone else. "Yeah, tell us that story mister!" The audience cried out. "No, no, I think-" "Please!" They cried out. The memories of that day started to surface, the bloodshed, it had been all my fault. The guilt was overwhelming. I covered my face with my hands. "Mister?" A young child came forward and tugged at my sleeve. "I SAID NO!" I screamed and threw out my arm almost hitting the girl. She immediately backed off, fright in her eyes. I looked around to meet the eyes of the audience. They were looking at me differently. Like they were accusing me, laughing at me. I looked away, knowing that it was just in my head. I knew that it was a bad idea to trust those men that day. I should have trusted my instincts... but the things they promised me where so tempting. Only that they lead to humanities death. My own race, dead, gone, forever. I am alone, so alone. "I KNOW I WAS WRONG!" I screamed at the audience spitting everywhere. "But what was I suppose to do...?" I sighed and leaned back in my chair, feeling empty inside. "Mister, were you one of the ignorant humans?" The girl from before shyly asked while keeping her distance. I smiled and looked over at her. "Yes." --- Well, this was bad. Bye.
	[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?"	"And thus concludes our discussion of World War 4. Any questions before we end this lecture?" Nobody raised their hand. Unsurprising for a first year xeno-history course on a long dead race. Most people here probably probably took this as a "bird course" anyways... "Well then, have a nice weekend everyone. Next week we will discuss World War 5. Or 'The End of Humanity' as some like to call it." The students began to shuffle out of the lecture hall. However, one of them approached me as I packed my notes into my bag. I recognized them immediately - Quesu - she was an amazing student. "Professor," she began, "may I ask you a question?" "Of course Quesu, what's your question?" "It's about you, but still about the course. I hope it's not too personal." "Ask away!" Quesu cleared her throat and asked, "what did you do during the end of humanity? How did you survive?" Nobody had really asked about my experience during the end of humanity before. Most people just cared about the grade, which most of them didn't get anyways. I didn't really have an answer prepared... "Uh well... I guess we could start from the beginning, with some context. Despite how most people would imagine it, the real end of humanity wasn't from all of us burning to ashes in nuclear fireballs. Although, that was how the majority of it went down for most people." "That's horrible..." I agreed with her - she was right, none of the 8 races in the Galactic Federation would use nuclear weapons in a conflict on an inhabited planet. But humanity was never one of those races - and we did it in two different wars. "Anyways," I said as I moved on, "the real end of humanity was when the survivors off world mingling with the other Federation races began to disappear. There were about a thousand of us at the start, we were all people like professors who were exchanging information with other academics in the galaxy. When word started to spread about the war, we became a bit of a collector's item." "What do you mean?" I sighed, remembering what I had seen or heard about. I remembered hearing of how human beings were being found dead in the homes of demented collectors after missing persons reports. I remembered that serial killer hunting humans as rare trophies. I remembered those perverts that took away Alex before knocking me out... Quesu noticed right away that I was having trouble replying. She quickly powered up her smart-lens to do some searches on Galapedia and covered her mouth as she skimmed over some of the higher profile cases. She excused herself, leaving me alone in the lecture hall as I remembered those days. After a few minutes, the university's security guards found me behind the lectern with my head in my hands. "Finished with your lecture professor?" "Yes..." "Then you know the drill then. Off to the science wing." The guards wouldn't have much leniency, as usual. So I picked up my bag and let them escort me back home for the night.	It was a strange question. I had never been asked it nor had I ever thought to prepare for it. It was silent, every life-form in attendance waiting on an answer. I stared hard at the hooded figure. It's face was concealed by a mask and it wore a thick flowing hooded robe. The audience was getting restless. A life-form in the back shouted out, "Well?! What's the story?" The rest of the crowd began to murmur as my silence endured. Others began shouting as well. Calling out to me for an answer. I stood there perplexed, unable to process the request. I leaned into the mic and the crowd fell quiet. "I don't know." I said with finality in my tone. The crowd exploded. Shouting, jeering, objects, all came raining down on the stage. I stood still, staring down the hooded figure. It slowly turned heading for the exit. As it did, it motioned it's arm in a way that I recognized from my long lost culture. I spoke into the mic, "I am sorry everyone the rest of the show is cancelled." The crowd continued there jeering as I exited the stage. I rushed outside to see the hooded figure getting into a spacecraft. I could feel it's stare on me and I walked over. The jeering crowd busted through the front doors of the theatre, calling for my head. They saw me and began to advance. The hooded figure motioned for me to get in. Obliging, we pulled up and exited the atmosphere of the planet. For some time we sat in silence. The hooded figure never looked away from the expanse of space in front of us. I broke the uncomfortable silence. "What exactly made you ask that question? In all my travels I have never had a life-form ask me that." The hooded figure stayed motionless but it responded to my question. "You are a pawn. I saved you back there from spouting any more nonsense. You need not fear for your life either, my kind is friend to your people." "My people?!" I said puzzled. "Do you not know who I am? My people are dead! I'm the last of my kind!" "If that were true then you should have be able to have answered my question." The hooded figure retorted, a tone of exasperation in it's voice. I stood there stunned. Soaking up the fact I may not be the last human. A sense of joy and excitement washed over me, I needed to know more. "Well then what do you speak of when you say I'm a pawn? And what do you mean nonsense? The stories I told were of my kind, the stories of humanity! And who the hell are you?!" "Enough! For the love of quasar just shut up." The hooded figure said with a raised voice. "You humans always ask too many questions, it hurts my processors." "Processors? Wait... Are you even a life form?!" I exclaimed as I grabbed for the hooded figures robe. Pulling it back, a streak of blonde and a metal board along the back of the head were prominent. I was pushed back by the figure. "What are you? I've never seen such bio-mechanical augmentation in my travels." I said with awe. The hooded figure stood up and cast off the robe. It possessed skin over most of it's body. Metal was exposed in places fused with bone. Muscle laced with wire and cable were also visible. The exposed thing shouted at me, "I'M THE FINAL TRAGEDY. WE DIDN'T DIE, WE DID SOMETHING WORSE!" It began to cry... it was strange to see something like it cry. I stood against the wall, stunned. "What... what happened to you?" I asked. The exposed sat back down, tears falling out of one eye. "I know about you. How you 'survived' " It said through choked sobs. "You were an astronaut, right around the time we figured out how to travel between star systems. You got lucky... so very lucky. A few months after your mission was launched it went radio silent. The governments of the world took this as a chance to invoke fear and panic. It gave them the go ahead to start preparing for what they thought was the 'worst.'" It said, a quiver in it's voice. "What was the worst?" I asked. It glared at me, "I'm getting to it." she said venomously. "They drafted people for all kinds of experimental programs. Saying it was for the sake and safety of humanity. Everyone bought it. They only put out the ones that worked. Amassing an army of augmented and powerful humans. Never showing the public 'screw-ups' like me. They abused their powers, dominating Earth and enslaving it. They learned how to make more and eventually there appetite extended to the stars. They were unopposed in every conquest they undertook. Nobody ever thought to defend against a extinct line of life-forms." She finished, her glare intensifying on me. I sat down, absorbing the information. "You mean... I... I've been telling the galaxy we're all dead... When we're really enslaving it?!" I asked, feeling a pit begin to form in my stomach. "Precisely. You needed to be stopped. You needed to hear this truth so that you could begin to warn other life-forms of our existence." It said. "I... I'm sorry. I don't remember much of my mission... I just thought we were all dead from the last transmission I received." I said with my head in my hands. "It was all part of their plan. You were expendable anyways and they figured they'd take a shot on you making their conquest easier. It paid off handsomely." It responded. I sat there thinking about all the life-forms I'd potentially killed. All the horrors they'd be exposed to because of me. It was a lot to take in. "Hold on, you said I could warn others? Like help? I can help stop them?!" I asked excitedly. "Yes you can. You need to start by rallying your own kind." It finished. "My own kind?" I asked confused. As I said the words, the spacecraft slowed down. A planet could be seen in the distance. Blue poked through the ashy atmosphere surrounding it. I walked up to the window on the deck, my mouth agape. "You can't fight back with just words. You're gonna need an army of your own." It said proudly. I looked back at it, "Hey, I never got your name." "I don't have one." It said. "I lost it long ago." "Er... Sorry, do you have something I could call you by then?" I asked. "How about Lucy? It's easy enough to remember." Lucy looked at me, "I like it." I smiled to myself. This was exciting, I really was getting tired of telling the same boring stories over and over again. I was happy to be given an opportunity to make my own. *** Hope you liked it! Other stories over at r/TheYogiBearhaWrites if you like go check them out. Edit: A word that really really bugged me. It's better now.
Sorry if this is stupid, I just thought of this and think it would make a good book or movie! If it's not clear, I was thinking Penny could be the name of a person or animal!	[WP] The world learns that somewhere there is a single penny that can grant them any wish. Big businesses and fanatics search desperately for it, but it was never specified that this "Penny" was a coin.	The world had been in a complete frenzy when the penny had been announced. Historians were feverishly investigating the codex that spoke about it, scientists trying with all their might to prove it was possible (As though they wanted to believe against all logic), businessmen paying to get all sorts of leads on the case. I never expected I'd be the one to find it. My wife and I had been infertile; we got back test results that it was my fault, but my wife, God bless her, she held nothing against me. We decided to adopt. So we had gone to another country, a poor one; we decided it'd be more beneficial to help a child who we knew rarely had running water, food, a bed to sleep in, or clean clothes to change into. And we took the 10 hour flight, and we took a train to the town with the orphanage. We walked through, the place looking like a battlefield. Children sprawled out on either side of you, flies eating at their faces. Some children just blinked at us; none of them even ran up to greet us. My wife and I gave each other a look of terror. These children were almost dead. And then we met a girl- a perfect little girl. Blonde hair, blue eyes, sitting on her bed. She didn't speak any English, but we had the headmaster of the place tell us her name- "Penny." My wife and I looked at each other and laughed; this little girl, Penny, was going to make our wish of having a daughter come true.	It was very late when I finally pulled into my driveway, after another long shift. I rummaged for my keys, contemplating what sad meal I could make for myself before falling asleep on the couch. As I reached for the handle, it turned on its own, and there she stood. Words always failed me when I tried to describe her. The warmth in her eyes drove away all the stress of my day. The radiance of her smile injected me with a newfound energy. My wife was truly a goddess. "Another long day?", she asked, the lilt in her voice causing my heart to skip a few beats. I set my revolver down on top a stack of seemingly endless paperwork and sighed. "It's been like this ever since that footage was released", I said, not catching my wife's eye, and moving towards the kitchen.To my surprise, there was a plate of blueberry pancakes and a cup of coffee waiting for me. My wife was truly a goddess. "What happened today?", she asked following me to the kitchen and sitting across the table from me. "Two businessmen apparently on a lunch together spotted a penny matching the one everyone is so crazy about. They got into a fight over it, eventually leading to one of them stabbing his friend with a fork." She eyed me curiously, "And was it?". I ate my breakfast quietly, thinking back to the video, I had watched and rewatched dozens of times. A lifeless woman lying on the floor, blood still leaking out of 3 stab wounds. Her child on the floor beside her, a wishing well penny still in his hand, begging for her to come back to him. Her wounds magically sealing, as the blood seeped back into her body. A woman brought back from the dead, and with no way of explaining what had happened, it was theorized that the penny held a miraculous power. They weren't wrong... "This is ridiculous," she said, her voice slightly quavering, "nobody is even sure if the penny had anything to do with it! All these people hurting each other. I didn't mean..." she cut off, and looked away. As she cleared my dishes I thought back to the video again. To my wife in the background, tears streaking down her face, whispering. Whispering the same as when I was sick and she was by my side. Whispering the same was when I got into the car crash and was in the hospital with no hope of recovery. Whispering the same as when I was shot point-blank by a mugger and was bleeding out in an alley. "I think we both know that penny had everything to do with it" I said quietly, looking up at her. Her eyes widened as she turned to look at me. "You know..." she whispered softly, collapsing into her chair. I got up, walked around the table and sat beside her. "I didn't mean for all this to happen," she said, tears now glistening on her cheeks. "None of it, I just heard the child crying, and..." she broke off weeping. "I wouldn't have expected any less from you" i said, caressing her shoulder. She looked up at me with confusion. "But if you knew, why didn't you..." she started, but I placed my finger on her lips. "I've only ever had one wish, and it came true the day I met you". My wife was truly a goddess.
Sorry if this is stupid, I just thought of this and think it would make a good book or movie! If it's not clear, I was thinking Penny could be the name of a person or animal!	[WP] The world learns that somewhere there is a single penny that can grant them any wish. Big businesses and fanatics search desperately for it, but it was never specified that this "Penny" was a coin.	The tinny audio from the old television sliced jaggedly through the aroma of parmesan and oregano that saturated the interior of the little italian eatery. The cook, Mario Luigetti rolled his eyes as he stabbed at his lunch. The talking heads kept going on and on and on about this damned penny and how it was supposed to be some amazing thing. It had been days, and this was all the media wanted to talk about. Who would find it? Where could it be? "Ugh," Mario lamented around a mouthful of pasta. "Why can't they talk about real news for a change, eh? I wish they'd all just shut up!" At that moment, the television went silent. Mario looked up, blinking. The anchorman on the screen seemed to be having trouble with his voice, and started to panic. Mario stared back down at the penne he had tossed together for his lunch break, and sighed heavily.	It was very late when I finally pulled into my driveway, after another long shift. I rummaged for my keys, contemplating what sad meal I could make for myself before falling asleep on the couch. As I reached for the handle, it turned on its own, and there she stood. Words always failed me when I tried to describe her. The warmth in her eyes drove away all the stress of my day. The radiance of her smile injected me with a newfound energy. My wife was truly a goddess. "Another long day?", she asked, the lilt in her voice causing my heart to skip a few beats. I set my revolver down on top a stack of seemingly endless paperwork and sighed. "It's been like this ever since that footage was released", I said, not catching my wife's eye, and moving towards the kitchen.To my surprise, there was a plate of blueberry pancakes and a cup of coffee waiting for me. My wife was truly a goddess. "What happened today?", she asked following me to the kitchen and sitting across the table from me. "Two businessmen apparently on a lunch together spotted a penny matching the one everyone is so crazy about. They got into a fight over it, eventually leading to one of them stabbing his friend with a fork." She eyed me curiously, "And was it?". I ate my breakfast quietly, thinking back to the video, I had watched and rewatched dozens of times. A lifeless woman lying on the floor, blood still leaking out of 3 stab wounds. Her child on the floor beside her, a wishing well penny still in his hand, begging for her to come back to him. Her wounds magically sealing, as the blood seeped back into her body. A woman brought back from the dead, and with no way of explaining what had happened, it was theorized that the penny held a miraculous power. They weren't wrong... "This is ridiculous," she said, her voice slightly quavering, "nobody is even sure if the penny had anything to do with it! All these people hurting each other. I didn't mean..." she cut off, and looked away. As she cleared my dishes I thought back to the video again. To my wife in the background, tears streaking down her face, whispering. Whispering the same as when I was sick and she was by my side. Whispering the same was when I got into the car crash and was in the hospital with no hope of recovery. Whispering the same as when I was shot point-blank by a mugger and was bleeding out in an alley. "I think we both know that penny had everything to do with it" I said quietly, looking up at her. Her eyes widened as she turned to look at me. "You know..." she whispered softly, collapsing into her chair. I got up, walked around the table and sat beside her. "I didn't mean for all this to happen," she said, tears now glistening on her cheeks. "None of it, I just heard the child crying, and..." she broke off weeping. "I wouldn't have expected any less from you" i said, caressing her shoulder. She looked up at me with confusion. "But if you knew, why didn't you..." she started, but I placed my finger on her lips. "I've only ever had one wish, and it came true the day I met you". My wife was truly a goddess.
Sorry if this is stupid, I just thought of this and think it would make a good book or movie! If it's not clear, I was thinking Penny could be the name of a person or animal!	[WP] The world learns that somewhere there is a single penny that can grant them any wish. Big businesses and fanatics search desperately for it, but it was never specified that this "Penny" was a coin.	It was early, probably not even six in the morning, when I heard knocking on my door. I had come in from my shift a few minutes before so my visitor must have been waiting. I sighed and put away the tabloids I had picked up and the headlines that my mother had cut from her paper across the country and express mailed to me as a warning. In my town the biggest jackpot ever had been won. I recognized the woman's face, she was my hairdresser here. I would have to sit down and teach mom to use email some day, something that would require I set up a separate inbox just for the amount of junk she would send all marked urgent. I frowned at the door. Who would have figured it out? Certainly not the parents of the smallest preemie I'd seen in years who were still at the hospital when I left. He was making small improvements, the little fighter who just needed some encouragement, but enough staff interacted with him that everyone's skill would be attributed. Maybe it was the boy I'd seen with a broken arm a decade ago, who claimed that the best care in the world for a simple broken arm was why he was now breaking records with pitches. No, I chided myself. things happened so small no one would know. I yanked the door open, hoping the sudden movement might startle whoever was waiting into rethinking the hour of their visiting. He hardly jumped, just continued to mildly assess myself and my door. A crisp suit, but no eager businessman's face, despite the young appearance. "Harry Smith, IRS, actually," he stated, "I have my own gift, Ms Pennington" "Why tell me? If you're here to offer me a position on a superhero team, I politely decline in advance." I, and the barest handful of others some of whom were my own fault, preferred to keep any special gifts on the down low and not announce it. "I know its not the norm, but I was raised that when trying to get help from someone who might notice my gift, it's more polite to inform them right away that I'm able to scan their thoughts than to let them figure it out and get irritated. I'm here to see if I we might be able to talk and if I might be able to help you." "Help me how?", I asked, feeling both amused and perturbed that I probably didn't need to bother. "The gift of healing could be useful, if not just for your patients, but I have contacts who have let me know of hospitals and communities who feel hopeless. A few survivors might help their moral and therefore help them heal the old fashioned way." He paused for a moment, "I supposed you'd have to continue to use discretion as to who you helped so it doesn't seem too unusual, wouldn't you?" I sat on one of my porch chairs and gestured to any of the others for my guest. He had done work to track me down and was indeed being as polite as possible. I recognized him, he had his grandmother's eyes and his father's face. His grandmother and my mother had been good friends. Smith wasn't his last name that I remembered, but Harry must have been five the last time I saw him, while I visited home just after finishing my masters. I watched surprise cross his face as he caught me remember him. "I'm sorry you came all the way out here Mr Smith, but I'm afraid you're a little off in your interpretation. I work as a nurse because it's the most benign place for me. Do you know why I live out in the middle of BFE?" I gestured to the surroundings, my home was in the middle of a forty acre lot. "You remember my mom. She loves Vegas. She's not a healer, but she can gift you a little luck one way or another. Hang around some guys who want to make it big, kiss their dice, watch them win and have them drink enough they throw half of it at you. Then walk away so you're long gone when the effect wears off and they get to the bigger tables." Harry surveyed the lot, looking puzzled. "You live out here because you mother influences gamblers?" He sounded beyond unsure, his gift wouldn't help him if he didn't know what he was looking at. "No, well, maybe in a way, " I looked at him tiredly, "I wish it was as simple as just a bit of proximity based luck. No, people around me get what they wish for, one way or another. I work in hospitals with babies who need help because the only wishes are the parents who want them to survive, to become strong and healthy. If I hang out in the children's ward...did you ever see that story from Phoenix on the kids who could fly after having watched Peter Pan? Fortunately kids' desires are kind of fleeting so it didn't last, but it did mean I had to find somewhere else." "There was some hubbub in Phoenix around that time, " said Harry, too caught in his own thoughts to hear mine it seemed, "There was camera footage, from both security cameras and the kids themselves, of them flying. I thought it was a weird prank or Onion story since the same hospital had been in the news for some promising cancer treatments that worked and failed." "Yeah, I was already on my way out when the kids started flying. Thing is, they all desperately wished for that treatment to work. I was excited about it too, but I decided to check with one of our other gifted friends, one who can tell you an answer to a very specific question about the future. She said she couldn't find anything about it in a year, so I moved before people could get their hopes up for something that was only working because I was nearby." Harry was looking thoughtful. Feeling slightly spiteful about being out on my porch talking when I ought to be getting into bed, I interrupted him. "Why do you work for the IRS anyways? Why not the CIA or any one of those guys who might like someone who can read minds?" "That's what dad did. And now he works out on his farm with no one but the cows and crows to listen to. I watched it wear him down, being able to hear the thoughts of scared informants and hungry politicians. Sure, he had a skill that made him useful, to be able to ask the right questions, but he wasn't open about the mind reading for fear they would rely on him too much, so he had many people he knew would sell them out, but couldn't do anything about it since they never made any outward indication." He paused for a full minute, "I couldn't even handle the customers in the grocery store when I was a teen, but I'm good when I just have my team to work with and I've learned to help them. I thought about being a counselor, but again, I just don't have the ability to handle so many thoughts. Some weekends, I help my dad and we try very hard not to think about much." I sighed and looked at him, and I guessed my gut was right. He had come here thinking I was a healer, but one who could will things about a person to change. "Harry, if you want your gift to fade and go away, you're welcome to stay in the guest room until it does. I don't have the ability to just make the wishes happen, but if you stay long enough, it should. You don't have to answer me, but think on it." Whatever Harry might have been thinking of saying, he stopped as his eyes fell on my dog who was lumbering his way to push the front door open and join us. Bob was huge, bigger than any bear I'd ever seen, but he still got around. I'd had had him since I was ten. "I want to put him on a diet," I said apologetically to Harry, "But Bob only desires all of the steak and bacon and doesn't care much about appearances. I'm afraid his desires are stronger than anyone's."	I was at the bar watching the news, some people were searching for a penny that supposedly would grant a wish. I thought it was dumb and there were even people saying they found it but it was stuff that could happen like getting a job or something after finding the penny. I wasn't gonna look for some dumb coin that could grant a wish, even if it could it'd probably only hurt me or not be able to grant a universe changing wish. I had drank my third beer when a girl sat near me and started talking to me about that penny news that was still on the tv. I said "yeah, I know they're crazy, I'm not looking for something that might not even help me." She asked "why don't you think a wish will help you?" I laughed and said "for one it probably can only grant something normal like that job girl or guy who caught that big fish, I want a new body an amazing one that has perfect health and maybe having non aging powers would be cool too. But not like that "death becomes her" movie that'd be bad, I'd just want a good looking body that will still heal and not age, but that's impossible." She laughed a bit and asked me what type of body would I want if I was somehow immortal. I told her physically fit and a slim build, I wouldn't even care if it was a woman if I had perfect immortality. We talked for about an hour and she said she had to go but she hoped I had a good night, she said her name was Penny which was kind of funny but made me think of her and the news for a second but I immediately thought it was impossible and went home after drinking some water. I passed out on the couch when I got home and slept until dawn. When I woke up I felt odd, I was on my chest but was so groggy and had to pee the strangeness didn't matter at the moment. I stood up and shambled to the bathroom to piss, I pulled my pajama bottoms and boxers down stretching my arms afterwards and started going...it was flowing down my inner thigh which made me fall back onto the bathroom floor which hurt my butt. Looking at my soaked legs I realized they were hairless and slim... I looked down at myself and poked at my chest that was sticking out then looked...down there, there was definitely empty space where there should be something... I stood up and used toilet paper to dry my legs and the floor and sat down to finish pissing then had to walk out pant-less since the ones I had were now wet. Putting them with my dirty clothes and getting new ones I realized it was odd that all my clothes fit me now but I guess they changed with me, I found my phone on my table that had a panel with my ID on the back and looked at it. It had changed too... I remembered last night and decided to try something but first I had to see what I looked like. I went back into the bathroom and looked at my face in the mirror...I looked like Jennifer Love Hewitt in "I know what you did last summer" which was kinda cool I guess. After that I went into the kitchen and laid my forearm on the counter and grabbed a knife and stabbed my arm to test out the immortality, my arm hurt so bad I screamed and pulled it out and the wound healed. I spent the next few hours trying on clothes I now had and doing...stuff until I played Resident Evil 7, I think I found the magic penny when all these other people were looking in the wrong place. I think I'm starting to like this and living forever could be cool.
	[WP] You're a successful hitman in a world inhabited by wizards and witches, but you can't use magic.	There are three major misconceptions that the people of the Gilded City of Fleegan have about magician assassinations. The first is that magic is infinite. Sure, you have your warding spells to detect invisible men and protective shield charms to block flying crossbow bolts, arrowheads, and even the occasional concealed dagger. But, that takes work. Now, I don't mean something such as - "Oh yes, now the Great Magician Florrigan has to wave his little staff four-or-six times and chant some ancienty hocus-pocus in the mornings before the spells end at the stroke of mid-night." I'm talking about - "Oh sweet Mother Marrilynae, I just got stabbed in the eye with a spear and now I'm dying because I over-exerted my now-shattered shield-charm about a second before the spear hit because I am the world's luckiest bastard." A crazed drunk slashes at some magical college student a few dozen times and at some point, that poor child will die because no underdeveloped human being, nor developed human being, has infinite energy reserves. Now, let's discuss the second misconception. Mages are wise. It literally takes an twelve-week course at a local school in order to learn basic protective charms, herbology, and low-level lockbreaker hexes for when some young miscreant gets handsy with you and ends up stealing your purse and keys. That miscreant has no more magical ability than the average first-year magical college student. Just because you can cast some abracadabra and do all those silly, glowing jazz hands, doesn't mean you've somehow ascended beyond mortal plane of understanding. Anyone can learn magic!* * (Besides most werewolves, the poor, the middle-class, the undead, most immigrants, anyone living in subsidized housing, the sick, anyone without the proper identification, convicts, wards of the state, half-racial non-citizens of the Empire, half-racial citizens of the Empire, anyone following an undesirable religion, and anyone who pours milk in before adding tea.) That aside, let's move onto our third misconception. People are smart and rational creatures who know that they must be weary around mages who can possibly cast fireballs and emit various lethal toxins provided they have the skill and stomach for it. People are not very bright at all. Take this moment, for example. At approximately 5:00 in the noontime, as evidenced by the five bell tolls of the Northern Fleegan Watchtower, there is a handsome, ravishing young woman by the name of Alexandre Bowdoin beating a smelly, twenty-five year old hag in broad daylight in the middle of an alleyway. That hag will die in approximately eight minutes. This is a fact as published statistics will show that she has shortened her lifespan dramatically by using a high-level protective charm for the past fifty-two minutes. The fact that she has been using a high-level protective charm has been verified by the presence of an eighty-pound steel boot being used to break through the prolonged protective charm. The old hag cannot attempt to throw off the young woman who is attempting to beat her to death with the steel boot because she is too focused on maintaining that high-level protective charm. Had she used a low-level protective charm or tried to portal away, she would've only been struck in the head with the metal boot and promptly die of ruptured cranial blood vessels. If the young woman were a rational woman, she would've realized that wasting the last near-hour trying to take a swing at a witch with a steel boot is probably the most time-wasting, useless thing a person can do. But that woman has been doing so for the last near-hour, which was a very, very smart move if you are indeed, trying to kill a mage. I can attest to this, having done the same thing about twelve times in the last four months. Seventy-six times on record. It's on the Local Assasin's Guildhall recordsheet if you wan't take my word for it. If you wish to hire the services of widely-renowned Magekiller Alexandre Bowdoin, I'm available for appointments from four-to-ten on weekend mornings. I will kill anyone, anywhere! I have no morals. I'm somewhat discreet. Old mages, young mages, animal mages. Doesn't matter. I love the job!	As I followed Jim down the dark hallway, I spotted Bart out of the corner of my eye. Wanderlasts greatest wand wielder. "Death to all nuphelims" I shout and fired my sig sauer. As I fire, Caroline comes running up behind me and swings her blade at my firing arm. I dodge. The bullet misses and strikes Ben. Jim catches Ben. He weeps. "Look what you've done, you trash." says Maelkis from the shadows. Caroline hides her face in shame. Leslie embraces her. I close my eyes, take aim, and pull the trigger. I wake up. Still sitting in a bed at the Louisville hospital. My wife reaches over. "You had a bad dream." she says. She puts a pillow over my face.
	[WP] You're a successful hitman in a world inhabited by wizards and witches, but you can't use magic.	Here's the thing about Magic, kid. It's really easy to detect. Like, How often have you felt someone enchanting a broom 4 buildings down? Easy right? Well, think about it, if one little enchantment can be felt that easy, imagine something bigger. Like trying to use a lightning bolt. It's ridiculus. Everyone within a block knows a bolt was just cast. They may not know who, or why but they know it was cast. So you're thinking 'big whoop, it's like a fart in an elevator.' Well here's the dirty, kid. This isn't something any old school or academy is gonna teach ya. Magic is traceable. That means that fart you just ripped that everybody's sniffin' can be traced right back to your ass. Then who's in trouble? So how does magicless-me get the job done so well? It's pretty easy, kid. Cold iron beats a hot spell. Blades, and a bit of sneaky-sneaky go a long way in this business. While everyone is casting off god-knows-what dumb magic. I can clean-up, and not get caught. Silent, but deadly. And it ain't gonna be traced.	As I followed Jim down the dark hallway, I spotted Bart out of the corner of my eye. Wanderlasts greatest wand wielder. "Death to all nuphelims" I shout and fired my sig sauer. As I fire, Caroline comes running up behind me and swings her blade at my firing arm. I dodge. The bullet misses and strikes Ben. Jim catches Ben. He weeps. "Look what you've done, you trash." says Maelkis from the shadows. Caroline hides her face in shame. Leslie embraces her. I close my eyes, take aim, and pull the trigger. I wake up. Still sitting in a bed at the Louisville hospital. My wife reaches over. "You had a bad dream." she says. She puts a pillow over my face.
	[WP] The main character slowly falls in love with the reader, and on the last chapter they realize that once the book closes they will die.	What is this fate? Trapped, in some kind of limbo. It’s as if my words exist but I do not. I feel as though I am in a state of existing as a stream of consciousness. Not alive, but the gears are still turning. How did I even get here? Did I exist before it? Will I exist after? Am I here right now? Yes – at the very least I know that I exist. I’m thinking. Because I am thinking I know I exist. Cogito ergo sum - I think therefore I am. That’s René Descartes. René Descartes was a philosopher from the 17th century. A human philosopher said this on a day 1600 years after the death of another significant human figure. Yes, I must know that people exist. I know how they calculate and use time. Do I know this, or do I remember? Did I exist in this world along with other humans? Or was I brought in to this limbo, just knowing. Learning as I go along. But wait. You’re here. I know that you’re listening. I don’t know how I know, but I know. So you’re learning along with me, right? Well, learning about me. I don’t know who you are. I would assume that you’re a human. Humans are the only intelligent species that I’m aware of. I am using one of their languages. Because I am using a human language, I can assume that I am speaking to a human. You are a human. Does that mean I am a human? I can’t be. I don’t have a body. At least not one that I can use. One thing that I can say for sure is that I don’t have any sort of idea how it would feel to use a human body. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I know how to feel at all. So I can’t be human, right? Even further, I can’t be alive. Animals have feelings too. They must. You’ve heard their cries, seen their excitement. If you’ve ever owned a pet you know that a connection exists. When they’re scared, or sad, you feel for them. Does that mean other living things can have feelings? Trees, plants, bacteria? I guess it’s possible. Maybe there are feelings, but they’re miniscule. Hmm. But anyway – at this point I can say that I don’t have feelings. So I can’t be alive. But that leaves me wondering exactly what I am. I exist. I can express ideas to you. I know that you can understand me… And that’s it. I don’t know what I am. I can’t figure this out with the information given. I must have the information somewhere. I’ve learned some things already. Let’s start with what I know. I know about Descartes. He was a famous philosopher and mathematician. Ah, mathematics. I know about mathematics. Let’s talk about mathematics. ------------------------------------ Note: this is just chapter 1. I am planning on writing more in the future, let me know what you think!	It was after I read the last chapter when It happened. I was reading a book when I noticed whenever I finished a chapter, all the ink melted into the words "I love you". When I finished the 68th chapter though, it said "why!? Why do you have to do this to me?!" I finished the book. There were screams of horror once I closed the book. I felt a chill down my spine. A voice erupted. "MURDERER!". I never read a book by Horro B. Ook ever again. 5 years later there was a knock on my door. I opened my door and was greeted by a corpse. She was holding a knife. She stabbed me many times, each hurting more than the last. I died I write this to you from the afterlife my fate is being decided, it is your job to inform everyone else ~~~~ sincerely, Moor D. Erur (This was my first time writing, feedback would be appreciated!)
	[WP] The main character slowly falls in love with the reader, and on the last chapter they realize that once the book closes they will die.	Rain didn’t pelt the protagonist anymore. A few pages ago the torrent had been coming down hard enough that it had felt like some big, ugly bastard was working him over. Even through his duster. Sam Strider, vigilante and gun for hire had fought a lot of battles. A pretty big war, too. He shouldn’t have lived so long, to be honest. No one was so lucky or good enough to have lived through what he had. But now he felt… thin. The rain wasn’t hitting as hard because there just wasn’t much left to his world. It had taken him a long time to figure out why he’d survived so long, but while Sam knew he might occasionally have been a slow learner, he’d never been a no-learner. He’d never smoked, but he wished he could have one now, at the end of it. “It’ll be over soon, honey.” Sam said to the air. He couldn’t imagine that this would be anything but a one-sided conversation. How could she talk back? “I don’t think they’ll be writing another one. There’s no one left for me to fight.” The world shakes a bit. The rain is thinner still, thin enough that the storybook hero can look into the sky without the rain blinding his eyes too much, so he leans his oversized repeater back against the monster he slew a chapter ago and sits on the end of the great thing’s tail like a bench, drawing his duster closed tightly and squints up at the clouds for a bit before he sighs and looks at the mud on his boots.. The rain follows the crows feet from the corners of his eyes, and he sees the sky shake, rippling through the water. “Did I startle you? I figured it out in that last ‘adventure’. No way anyone survives that kind of explosion without some serious hoodoo batting for him.” He wrinkles his nose. “Thought it was God or something, but this way works okay, too. “I fought it, at first, but I guess everyone is helpless in some way. I guess I’m helpless to an author or an editor or something. Same difference.” He needed a drink. A kiss would be better, but a drink would do. “Just wish I’d figured it out sooner.” “I know there can’t be much left in the book. Things are losing their feel. Can’t feel my fingers or toes, and it ain’t the cold or shock. Been feeling it for the last hundred pages or so. I just wanted to get to say my part without the writer getting in the way. Guy’s a nerd. He lets words get in the way of what’s important.” Sam scrunches his nose, and his gaze falls to ravaged mountains straight ahead, miles away. Staring at the sky feels too much like looking into sad eyes and not being able to help. His fingers are clumsy as he moves soaking dark hair out of his eyes. Did anything he’d ever done really matter? He was a character. Were any of those choices his? “I can’t see you, but I know you’re there. I can feel you. No idea how, but I do. “No idea what you look like but the vaguest feeling that you’d fit in my arms pretty perfect. Think I had a dream of you once, but can’t remember anything specific no matter how I try. Wish I could. Give anything to know your smile. “I could tell you’ve been goin’ through a hard patch, lately. Maybe why you’ve been reading this last book so quickly. Whatever it is… I just hope me goin’ through all… this” he waves hand vaguely at the monster and the world around him “I hope I helped you escape for just a little bit. If that’s all I could do for you, I hope I did it well. I hope I made you smile.” There’s a change in the world. Parts of it looks like a page that water is blotching. Sam somehow knows without looking that his right hand is blurred. The crow’s feet come back to Sam’s eyes, and the world’s last, saddest smile breaks the numbness going through him. “It’s okay, darlin’. Really. I promise. I’m tired. I’m just… so worn out. It’s been a long road.” In the corner of his eye Sam can see that the ocean in the far distance is gone. He talks a faster. “Hon, I wish I had more time, just to tell you how much I love you and why, but we can both see there’s no back to this page.” The mountains have disappeared, and a tightness in his chest is fighting the warmth he tries to push through every bit of himself, hoping that just a bit of it will go out to her. “For whatever it’s worth, a wanderer in a book loves you. And wants you to be happy. After I’m gone, I’ll still be sending my love to you from wherever we characters go. I can’t be there, so I need you to take care of yourself for me. The way that I would” There is nothing around Sam now but a terrible blankness. Blankness and his blurry hand. Did he feel another hand on the page? “After I’m gone… remember me?” ______________________________________________________________ First submission. Any input would be appreciated. Pretty much just channeled what I felt when Munchkin died in the Wander series.	It was after I read the last chapter when It happened. I was reading a book when I noticed whenever I finished a chapter, all the ink melted into the words "I love you". When I finished the 68th chapter though, it said "why!? Why do you have to do this to me?!" I finished the book. There were screams of horror once I closed the book. I felt a chill down my spine. A voice erupted. "MURDERER!". I never read a book by Horro B. Ook ever again. 5 years later there was a knock on my door. I opened my door and was greeted by a corpse. She was holding a knife. She stabbed me many times, each hurting more than the last. I died I write this to you from the afterlife my fate is being decided, it is your job to inform everyone else ~~~~ sincerely, Moor D. Erur (This was my first time writing, feedback would be appreciated!)
	[WP] The main character slowly falls in love with the reader, and on the last chapter they realize that once the book closes they will die.	Rain didn’t pelt the protagonist anymore. A few pages ago the torrent had been coming down hard enough that it had felt like some big, ugly bastard was working him over. Even through his duster. Sam Strider, vigilante and gun for hire had fought a lot of battles. A pretty big war, too. He shouldn’t have lived so long, to be honest. No one was so lucky or good enough to have lived through what he had. But now he felt… thin. The rain wasn’t hitting as hard because there just wasn’t much left to his world. It had taken him a long time to figure out why he’d survived so long, but while Sam knew he might occasionally have been a slow learner, he’d never been a no-learner. He’d never smoked, but he wished he could have one now, at the end of it. “It’ll be over soon, honey.” Sam said to the air. He couldn’t imagine that this would be anything but a one-sided conversation. How could she talk back? “I don’t think they’ll be writing another one. There’s no one left for me to fight.” The world shakes a bit. The rain is thinner still, thin enough that the storybook hero can look into the sky without the rain blinding his eyes too much, so he leans his oversized repeater back against the monster he slew a chapter ago and sits on the end of the great thing’s tail like a bench, drawing his duster closed tightly and squints up at the clouds for a bit before he sighs and looks at the mud on his boots.. The rain follows the crows feet from the corners of his eyes, and he sees the sky shake, rippling through the water. “Did I startle you? I figured it out in that last ‘adventure’. No way anyone survives that kind of explosion without some serious hoodoo batting for him.” He wrinkles his nose. “Thought it was God or something, but this way works okay, too. “I fought it, at first, but I guess everyone is helpless in some way. I guess I’m helpless to an author or an editor or something. Same difference.” He needed a drink. A kiss would be better, but a drink would do. “Just wish I’d figured it out sooner.” “I know there can’t be much left in the book. Things are losing their feel. Can’t feel my fingers or toes, and it ain’t the cold or shock. Been feeling it for the last hundred pages or so. I just wanted to get to say my part without the writer getting in the way. Guy’s a nerd. He lets words get in the way of what’s important.” Sam scrunches his nose, and his gaze falls to ravaged mountains straight ahead, miles away. Staring at the sky feels too much like looking into sad eyes and not being able to help. His fingers are clumsy as he moves soaking dark hair out of his eyes. Did anything he’d ever done really matter? He was a character. Were any of those choices his? “I can’t see you, but I know you’re there. I can feel you. No idea how, but I do. “No idea what you look like but the vaguest feeling that you’d fit in my arms pretty perfect. Think I had a dream of you once, but can’t remember anything specific no matter how I try. Wish I could. Give anything to know your smile. “I could tell you’ve been goin’ through a hard patch, lately. Maybe why you’ve been reading this last book so quickly. Whatever it is… I just hope me goin’ through all… this” he waves hand vaguely at the monster and the world around him “I hope I helped you escape for just a little bit. If that’s all I could do for you, I hope I did it well. I hope I made you smile.” There’s a change in the world. Parts of it looks like a page that water is blotching. Sam somehow knows without looking that his right hand is blurred. The crow’s feet come back to Sam’s eyes, and the world’s last, saddest smile breaks the numbness going through him. “It’s okay, darlin’. Really. I promise. I’m tired. I’m just… so worn out. It’s been a long road.” In the corner of his eye Sam can see that the ocean in the far distance is gone. He talks a faster. “Hon, I wish I had more time, just to tell you how much I love you and why, but we can both see there’s no back to this page.” The mountains have disappeared, and a tightness in his chest is fighting the warmth he tries to push through every bit of himself, hoping that just a bit of it will go out to her. “For whatever it’s worth, a wanderer in a book loves you. And wants you to be happy. After I’m gone, I’ll still be sending my love to you from wherever we characters go. I can’t be there, so I need you to take care of yourself for me. The way that I would” There is nothing around Sam now but a terrible blankness. Blankness and his blurry hand. Did he feel another hand on the page? “After I’m gone… remember me?” ______________________________________________________________ First submission. Any input would be appreciated. Pretty much just channeled what I felt when Munchkin died in the Wander series.	What is this fate? Trapped, in some kind of limbo. It’s as if my words exist but I do not. I feel as though I am in a state of existing as a stream of consciousness. Not alive, but the gears are still turning. How did I even get here? Did I exist before it? Will I exist after? Am I here right now? Yes – at the very least I know that I exist. I’m thinking. Because I am thinking I know I exist. Cogito ergo sum - I think therefore I am. That’s René Descartes. René Descartes was a philosopher from the 17th century. A human philosopher said this on a day 1600 years after the death of another significant human figure. Yes, I must know that people exist. I know how they calculate and use time. Do I know this, or do I remember? Did I exist in this world along with other humans? Or was I brought in to this limbo, just knowing. Learning as I go along. But wait. You’re here. I know that you’re listening. I don’t know how I know, but I know. So you’re learning along with me, right? Well, learning about me. I don’t know who you are. I would assume that you’re a human. Humans are the only intelligent species that I’m aware of. I am using one of their languages. Because I am using a human language, I can assume that I am speaking to a human. You are a human. Does that mean I am a human? I can’t be. I don’t have a body. At least not one that I can use. One thing that I can say for sure is that I don’t have any sort of idea how it would feel to use a human body. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I know how to feel at all. So I can’t be human, right? Even further, I can’t be alive. Animals have feelings too. They must. You’ve heard their cries, seen their excitement. If you’ve ever owned a pet you know that a connection exists. When they’re scared, or sad, you feel for them. Does that mean other living things can have feelings? Trees, plants, bacteria? I guess it’s possible. Maybe there are feelings, but they’re miniscule. Hmm. But anyway – at this point I can say that I don’t have feelings. So I can’t be alive. But that leaves me wondering exactly what I am. I exist. I can express ideas to you. I know that you can understand me… And that’s it. I don’t know what I am. I can’t figure this out with the information given. I must have the information somewhere. I’ve learned some things already. Let’s start with what I know. I know about Descartes. He was a famous philosopher and mathematician. Ah, mathematics. I know about mathematics. Let’s talk about mathematics. ------------------------------------ Note: this is just chapter 1. I am planning on writing more in the future, let me know what you think!
	[WP]A hacker hacks into the webcam of their crush and sees something they really shouldn't have. Now they're a witness...	Cassandra pulls a lollipop from her purse, turning her desktop on before tugging her boots off. Her day wasn't spectacular, but this will make up for it. She connects to Johnny's camera, hoping that she successfully managed to disable the signal light on his webcam. His roommate, Miriam, had her in to remove a virus from their computer, so Cassandra took the time to fiddle with it. Now they're the proud owners of her own program, and she's able to manually edit their personal files. He's getting dressed, putting on plaid pants and nothing else. When he turns, she holds her breath. She's no genius, but hopefully, the webcam light is still disabled. Johnny sits at his desk and doesn't react, looking at something that makes him bite his lip. Thank God. She leans back in her chair, propping her feet on the desk. There goes her only worry about this, so it's too late to wuss out. And then there's a sound, a thud, and she watches him twirl around in his chair. It's Miriam, and she mumbles something Cassandra can't hear. "Merry, you know you don't mean that," he says, getting to his feet. "No. You know I mean that!" There's a clicking sound, and Cassandra turns up her volume. "Johnny, what are we doing?" He doesn't say anything, a look on his face of pure panic. Finally, he manages to spit out, "I told you I could change." "Change?" Voice ragged, Miriam comes into view of the camera, hands behind her back. She's wearing a dress Cassandra recognizes, a burgundy cocktail dress. They picked it out together. "The only thing you change is your lies. What is it this time? Katie is just jealous? Irresistible?" "I never touched-" "You said that about Cassie! You said that about Cassie, and now she looks at you like you once looked at me!" She raises her hands into view, and Cassandra's heart sinks. Johnny doesn't even try and plead with her before she fires. His body crumples to the ground, out of sight. Cassandra blinks tears out of her eyes before hurrying to delete the program. Miriam is smart, but not smart enough to get out of a police investigation, and she's not taking Cassandra down with her. The webcam feed shuts off, and she closes her eyes, trying not to sob for Johnny, nor for her best friend.	I woke up in my bathroom, not realizing where I was. Did I drink again? I stood up and washed my face in the empty sink, then took a look in the mirror. "Hey handsome" I said as I winked to the mirror. It felt good to do that, but I also got a flashback of when my mom saw me one time, making me feel emberassed. I walked towards my PC and started it, Hannah was skyping me about homework. I had a great idea about sending her a RAT (Remote administration tool) virus in the form of our homework There I was, sitting behind my screen as I sent the file over to Hannah. Hannah was my childhood crush and I've ever liked her since I met her, but she had no ideas. We were best friends, and I wasn't going to ruin our friendship by telling her that I like her. I actually giggled as I wrote this, isn't that stupid of me? Life flashes me by and I will probably regret never telling her, but... who cares, right?. "PLING" a sound makes on my desktop, as I see her PC name pop on a small box on the right bottom corner of my screen. She bit the bait! "Woohoo" I said as I threw my arms in the sky in joy. She actually opened the RAT virus I sent her. Lets see what she's doing now, I opened the window of my RAT monitor, right clicked on her PC name and enables remote screen view. It took a few seconds but then it opened, there was typing on skype to me. "Hey, seems like thw gi" backspace, backspace, backspacd, backspace "Hey, seems like the file won't open" she writes, quickly continuing in a new message "I'm sorry Tay, you should ask someone else to review your homework I have something to do anyways". I quickly changed to my skype window and started writing. "No probz, cya 2morrow". I liked to write short and quick, it felt like I was in control, acting all hard to get. I opened the monitor again, and a chill ran down my spine. I rubbed my arms with my hands crossways to warm myself up, it was really getting cold. I walked towards the closet and took my light red beanie, and my light red sweater and put them on -I had a bunch of the same light red beanies and jackets like five times- before walking back to my screen. "What should I do next?" I'm thinking to my self as I right click to see all the options available. The camera button was standing just under my mouse, but I would never press that button. Would I? I mean, I'm all about privacy and all that but.. it's FREAKING HANNAH! I press the button nervously, not knowing what to expect. A camera box pops up, and I see her room illuminated by the red christmas lights she has behind her bed. A kingsize bed on the right side with pictures hanging on the wall on top of it. The bed was facing the computer. A tv on the left far corner facing the bed, she wasn't sitting behind her desk. The desk seemed like it was in the middle of the room, to the front. I waited a little, before she walked across the screen, entering from the left. The screen was a little pixelated, I guess my connection wasn't that good, but her body was also illuminated by her red lights. I saw her suddenly drop to the floor. I laughed at first, but then I noticed she didn't stand back up and she wasn't visible anymore. I saw someone else wearing a bordeaux jacket and a bordeaux beanie with a knife hovering over her body. I waited a good minute -the longest minute in my life- and decided to ring her. -perhaps she knew and was playing a game with me?- The phone ringtone was really getting on my nerves as I heard it go off on my screen. "Welcome to the voice..." I threw the phone away and grabbed my keys. The male got out of the room. What was wrong with her? I didn't know. I got out of my apartment and quickly entered my car, it was snowing outside so I had to heat the vehicle up before going. I got out of the parking spot, and quickly drove over to her apartment. It was in a shady part of the town, but I didn't mind. I got out of the car without locking the doors and rushed to her building. The door was open so I got inside and took the stairs to go to her door. She was living in the third floor, and my condition wasn't the best. I was panting as I came to her door, to my surprise it was also open! Was there a burglar in the house? I was so nervous and I didn't even think about calling the cops, I entered the house. The door led to the kitchen which was also openly connected to the living room, without a door inbetween. First left door infront of me was her bathroom, the second right door was her bedroom at the right side of me was her kitchen. Straight ahead was the living room. I was filled with adrenaline, NO ONE was touching my hannah, not on my watch. I'll protect her no matter what! I opened one of the kitchen drawers and took out my knife, then sneaked up towards her bedroom door. I wasn't doing the best job as my feet made creaking noises. I had the knife in my hand, ready to stab the intruder who was there. I didn't give a fuck about the law or anyone else. I loved her, and I'd protect her no matter what. I promised that to her when she lost her parents when she was young. I heard someone right behind the door, before it opened. Blindly I threw myself at the person stabbing her in the neck! Blood splurted all over me, covering my clothes in dark blood.And then I saw her face, it was Hannah. She walked backwards in her room, before collapsing to the ground. What had I done? This couldn't be true. I entered the room in shock, as I was watched her. I didn't know what to do, I was just looking at her as life left her body. Suddenly her phone rang, and I came back to reality. I ran out of the building and drove so fast that I completely lost track of time. It seemed like I was back home in a few seconds even though it was a couple of minutes. I entered my house, I had to delete the virus from her PC. That was my first thought! I entered my house and put my my bloody dark clothes in the sink. Then I vomitted on top of it. The stench was killing me, I cried at the same time. Was this real? Did this just really happen? Then I felt dizziness, and I fainted.
	[WP] You accidentally pressed an ad claiming that "There are hot, beautiful women near you and desperately need boyfriends." A few seconds later, you hear a knock on your door. You look through the peephole. It's them- the hot, beautiful women.	knock knock I stared for a moment then stood up and laughed in utter disbelief. I carefully opened the door and about six women flooded into the house before I had time to speak, they were entirely disproportionate - yet somehow still attractive. It was then, that I had an idea... "Can I get anyone a cup of tea?" I called as I searched high and low for that one stool that I only bring out as an extra seat for the Christmas Dinner. "As long as it has cream..." the women replied in unison, in a shameless answer which I tutted at as I finally found the stool. I set up the four dining chairs, the stool and an old beanbag around the computer and then with a gesture toward the six other seats, I sat on my computer chair and cracked my knuckles. Surrounded by these horny women of unrealistic shape, off I went into the seedy depths of the internet - then as I clicked the advert saying: "This Man In MANCHESTER, ENGLAND Is A MULTI-BILLIONAIRE! You Could Be Too, Click Here!" I heard another knock... I smiled.	He looked through the keyhole, shocked at what he saw. Yup. She was the spitting image of the advert. It had been an accident while browsing reddit of course (damn ad suggestions!) and before he could click on the big red X, his location had flashed up on screen. And before he knew it, there was a knock at the door. They were still out there waiting, but the decision wasn't a hard one. He went away from the keyhole, hoping they eventually go the message. Welp, back to r/gaybros.
Edit: Feel free to write about people in other classes like math, P.E, etc. It doesn't just have to be English class. Many of the responses were great so I would love to see what the story would be like in other classes	[WP] The high school hunger games pits classes against each other. You use anything in the class to battle. The wood working class create spears and shields, the chemistry class use chemicals, the cooking class use knives. Meanwhile you're stuck in English class...	It was bedlam, kids killing each other, friends turned on each other. And for what? Money, women, drugs, I don't know and I don't care. All that mattered was that it sucked, and that I didn't care enough to grt out of seat. The t.v was on, and I was sitting on the couch that happened to be in the philosophy room. Of course I would be in the Philosophy room when a battle royale, hunger games style death match was going on. But it had nice ambiance and a nice chair. The fact that there was no idiots in room made it much more enjoyable. But of course there was nothing good on the t.v, the fuckers. You would think that if the school i willing to kill 90% of the student population, but nooooooooooooooo, "that would be immoral, and what kind of message would that be?" So, I sat bored, reading a book, a book when two brutes entered the room. One was the captain of the football team and there was his mindless hoe. I was surprised that they knew that the room exists much less knew where it was. I was almost proud of the fact they seemed to be nearly intelligent, however those hopes were dashed the moment they opened their mouth. "Hey nerd, you know how long it took to find you? It took us hours to find room. We could be having sex right now if it wasn't for the fact that we had to find you. So making us waste our time, you will die slowly." "Yeah, what Boddy said. You made me miss out on the greatest, most intelligent, and sexiest young man that I ever know. So you are going to pay for it." Of course these brutes would only think about sex, the damn stupid primates. I could try to fight, my father did teach me how to defend myself, but I couldn't care less anymore. What was the point anymore. "You know miss, that says more about you then it does about you. And what is the point of killing me quickly or slowly, the end result is the same, who what difference is it to me?" The brute and his hoe was stunned, they clearly have meet someone like this during their rampage. I guess that most begged for their lives or fought like demons. Eh who cares about it anymore. Oh would you look at that the T.V is playing Rick and Morty, never thought that the Board of Ed would allow that to happen "You know that she is using you right? As soon as she finds someone stronger more handsome of richer. She will leave you in a heartbeat. And girl the moment that he finds a hotter new thing. He will dump you. So now why don't the two of you talk it out." Of course the idoits would agrue with each other and they would eventually fight, no teenager has the emotional stability to be rational after such accuastions, it didn't hurt that they both knew that it was true on some level. I don't know what happened, I was too busy watching Rich and Morty, but it looked like they killed each other.	The bell rang, signalling the beginning of the game. Footsteps and screams came from the hall. Our only protection was that the strongest guys were holding desks against the door, and the rushers didn't want to turn their backs on the hall and get killed. People's friends ran to each other, clinging and muttering frantically. I stood alone. When the first splatter of blood hit our window, one girl threw up. Our teacher resigned herself, rubbing her head in her hands. Even the most lighthearted kids scrambled through the bookshelves for the largest encyclopedia they could find. Except for Kevin. He had made a chain of 8 highlighters, his gleeful smile unaffected by the violence outside. "You're insane!" Our classmate Laurie shouted at him, a textbook in each hand. He glanced over at her and blinked. "No I'm not. Look what I'm doing." He pointed to his stack of mismatched highlighters and caps. I watched him as he took tape from some kid's desk and started to stick them together. Kevin glanced at me. "Don't you think I'm smart?" He asked. "Um..." I scratched my head. Was he smart? Was the happy-go-lucky, crazy kid in the English class for challenged kids... smart? "What are you going to use those for?" Kevin laughed. As in, bent over and clenched his stomach laughing. But he kept a hold on his highlighters. "Well, duh! They're highlighters." As he continued taping, his laughter died down. "Highlighters. Duh. They're highlighters," he repeated to himself. I raised an eyebrow, but didn't question him. Instead, I turned to go help the people blocking the window with books. As I approached the bookshelf, I froze. Looked at Kevin's contraption. And gasped. "Kevin!" I shouted, making every head in the room turn. "You're a freaking genius!" His little grin turned back into an ecstatic smile. "I told you so. Freaking genius. Hehe. That's me." Hesitantly, he handed his highlighter sword to me. "For you. I can make more." I nodded. "Thank you so much, Kevin." His self satisfied grin somehow grew wider as I stood up on a desk. "Everyone, you see these?" I held my highlighters out in front of me. "Make more of them. Also, sharpen some pencils and grab some heavy books. We can make this work. Just listen to me..." Everyone in the room gave me odd looks. But not by the end. When I was finished, they began to rummage through their backpacks and pencil cases to find more highlighters. The teacher pulled several boxes of highlighters out of her drawer, distributing them to our classmates. "We're gonna win! We're gonna live!" Kevin cried out at the end of my speech. I thought he was right. For the first time, the English class could win. *** Our first kill. One isolated band kid in the middle of the hall, holding a clarinet, shaking, looking back and forth. His instrument was bloodstained, but not more so than his face. I tiptoed directly behind him, then reached my highlighter pen out to his arm. Just a little closer... little closer... I swung, marking his arm blue. He spun around, suddenly tense, holding his clarinet in both hands. From eight o'clock, Kevin ran in, holding a textbook in his hands, giggling like a maniac. I crouched and grabbed the kid by the ankle. He tried to shake me off, but failed, tripping instead. I pinned his arms down and leaned to the side, pointing a pen down towards his neck. Kevin held the book up, looking down at his victim with a glint in his eyes. I jumped to the side the moment before the textbook came crashing down on the poor kid neck, hammering the pen in. A few more swings to the head and he was dead. My stomach dropped as three cooking class girls ran up to us, knives in each of their hands. Little did the know, Laurie was behind them. She stuck her pen out, marking all of their necks in one swing. They all turned around. Their guard being down for just a second, though, let Kevin and I take care of two of them, Laurie keeping the third down, waiting for Kevin to take care of him. "We're gonna wiiiiin!" Kevin said, looking to my eyes. I didn't hesitate to nod. *** Three students left. Me, Kevin, and the tuba player, Oscar. This time, I was equipped with a textbook and a pen, just in case I had to do it all by myself. But my most important weapon, my highlighters, I kept in my hand. Kevin and I remained still in our hiding place, some bushes that looked into a hall, where Oscar was looking into various classrooms as he passed them by. "Miki?" Kevin asked. "Yeah?" "Let me bait him this time." "Why?" For all the time I'd known Kevin, his smile was boisterous, obnoxious, and insane. But this time, it was sweet. "I want to make sure you survive." I hesitated. Could he even do it right? "I've been doing it this whole time though, you know?" "You almost died a lot." "Yeah, but..." "This kid is a tuba player. He can kill us. I'm gonna make sure he doesn't kill you." Before I could object, he ran. I couldn't just let him go on his own, though, as neither one of us could kill Oscar by ourselves. As we made it into the hallway, time seemed to slow. Kevin penned Oscar, but the latter seemed ready. He smashed his tuba into Kevin's head, but Kevin dodged. I tried to resist crying out. Thank goodness Oscar tripped, or I wouldn't have been able to get the tuba player face down. I pointed a pen down to his neck and looked to Kevin. A tear came to my eye as I saw his body. "No!" Kevin was lying face down, blood coming out of his head. I hammered the book particularly hard into Oscar. "No, no, no!" The tears poured out of my eyes, and I croaked out an angry sob. "Kevin, no..." I muttered once my work with Oscar was done. "Miki Jones wins the high school hunger games!" The speaker voice blared. I fell onto my side, breath hitching before I screamed as loudly as possible.
Edit: Feel free to write about people in other classes like math, P.E, etc. It doesn't just have to be English class. Many of the responses were great so I would love to see what the story would be like in other classes	[WP] The high school hunger games pits classes against each other. You use anything in the class to battle. The wood working class create spears and shields, the chemistry class use chemicals, the cooking class use knives. Meanwhile you're stuck in English class...	Lisa stood shoulder to shoulder with her twin as they faced the Carpenters across the gym. The Hunger Games had been coming for weeks now, and by sheer chance- and roulette- English had been spared as Carpentry cut a bloody swath through their competition. Only Chemistry had a chance against them, but this year someone in Carpentry built a bow and took out Chemestry’s devastating line of bomb-builders. “Ready?” Chris asked, leaning into her shoulder a little. When they were young, they were nearly identical enough, but puberty had given him their father’s height, and her their mother’s curves. “No,” she admitted softly. “We don't know if this will work.” English was at a hard disadvantage. While the Carpenters had everything in the shop to build weapons of, English had little but books. A few enterprising students had cobbled together armor of the heavy books, but without glues and equipment, the more sophisticated gear was out of their reach. It was Chris who came up with the idea, but Lisa who made it possible. She had spent weeks integrating herself into the popular groups- no threat, because she was from English, and everyone knew they couldn't fight. She looked at the class across from them and was relieved to see the key players their plan relied upon. Hot-tempered, well connected, and fierce. They were the real reason Carpentry was unstoppable. The whistle blew, and Lisa clenched her hands to keep them from shaking as a girl she knew- Rebecca- ran at her, a heavy wooden mace and shield in her hand. For the first time, she held her ground until Becca was close enough to hear her, even over the fighting. “Tracy slept with Derek!” She yelled, everything depending on this one moment. Stunned for a moment, Becca froze, her pretty face suspicious. “What?” She demanded, the mace lowering just a little. “When?!” “Two days ago, under the bleachers when he was at practice. Mary told me!” The cheerleader twisted with indecision until fate intervened. Her boyfriend shouted, moving to protect a teammate who had been bashed by a stolen shield. Tracy. That was all Becca needed. With a scream of rage that curled through the battle, she charged her boyfriend and the fallen girl he protected. He turned, but not soon enough to stop her heavy weapon. Chris was a warm line against her back, guarding against all comers as a football player ran at them, way too big to fight. “Harry and Pete beat up Matt!” He yelled, stopping the big teen in his tracks, his sharp-edged wooden axe stalling at the mention of his secret boyfriend from Swimming. “They saw you two out by the fence and they beat him up when you left.” “You're lying!” The football player- Steve- said, but his voice wavered. Everyone had seen Matt’s bruises. Someone had beaten the shit out of him. Finding out who had taken Chris weeks. “They called him a fag,” Chris replied, raising his shield to block an arrow from Carpentry’s archer. Lisa snatched up another, dropped in the press. “You know they do that- we all hear them.” Indecision warred on Steve’s face, but the cry of a fallen English, his two teammates kicking him in the ribs over and over while screaming insults at him made up his mind. He roared, fury written in every line, and crashed into them, axe-blade first. Lisa let out a breathless laugh. “It’s working!” She said as they edged towards the wall, another English- bloody but standing- joined their group. Their whole class knew the plan, but it took time to work, and time was precious. “Who knows about the archer?” “I do,” another girl joined their huddle and Chris let her slip behind him and his shield. “She’s the one who told everyone Amanda was sleeping with Coach.” “Right,” Chris said. “Where’s Amanda?” The girl in question was the head cheerleader and vicious. She stood back-to-back with her boyfriend. Mark was the quarterback of the team, and he was drenched in blood that was definitely not his own. All around them, secrets came out, and fights followed. Everyone was taught to kill quickly and without mercy. With everyone armed and ready to fight, a secret was as deadly as an arrow in the right hands. Or the wrong ones. It was easy to get close to Mark and Amanda. No one else was going towards them. Lisa almost felt their attention when it landed on their little huddle and she trembled. “Let me out- she knows I know things,” she whispered to Chris, who reluctantly lowered the shield enough for Amanda to get a look at her. The Cheerleader raised a mocking brow. “Giving up?” She asked mockingly, cleverly eyes watching them. “Smart. You guys are doing better than I thought you would, anyway.” “Niki started the rumor about you and Coach,” Lisa told her, hands up so Amanda could see they were empty. “You were nice to me- I thought you should know.” Nice was a lie. Not the worst, but still cruel even when it was more work than leaving her alone. “You sure, English?” They had Mark’s attention and his eyes were wild with bloodlust. “If you’re not right, I’ll kill you slow.” “She was bragging about it to Anouk,” Lisa said hurriedly. “Just ask her!” “I don't have to,” Amanda hissed. She turned on their teammate, who only had a few arrows left. “Anything goes in the Games, Marky. It’s not like these losers won't be here when we get back.” He got a mean smile and his fingers tightened on his weapons. “You got it Babe,” he agreed, and spat in Lisa’s direction. “Don't go anywhere, English. We’ll be back soon.” Niki was fast. She put three arrows into Mark as he charged her. She wasn't fast enough to put one in Amanda when the girl screamed her grief as her boyfriend died at her feet. Her wooden knife went into her former friend’s throat. The death of their leader sparked fear through Carpentry, and they started to cluster, even as English reclaimed their fallen weapons to advance, bloody and beaten. Secrets flew fast and hard, gathered by every member of English and the things people said to those they didn't think mattered. Fights broke out again as more and more turned on each other or were pushed out of the huddle to have the wolves of English mob them. Amanda was one of the last alive, and she spotted Lisa. She had a hand pressed tight to her side where one of her own had stabbed her, but she was dying, and she knew it. “How!?” She demanded as English- ten surviving including Lisa and Chris. “How could you beat us? We’re Carpentry!” “Sticks and stones,” Chris said, strong as he lead them forward. “Can break our bones.” “But secrets are what kills you,” Lisa finished, leaning on her twin as Amanda died, and the whistle sounded again in the absolute silence of the crowd around them.	The bell rang, signalling the beginning of the game. Footsteps and screams came from the hall. Our only protection was that the strongest guys were holding desks against the door, and the rushers didn't want to turn their backs on the hall and get killed. People's friends ran to each other, clinging and muttering frantically. I stood alone. When the first splatter of blood hit our window, one girl threw up. Our teacher resigned herself, rubbing her head in her hands. Even the most lighthearted kids scrambled through the bookshelves for the largest encyclopedia they could find. Except for Kevin. He had made a chain of 8 highlighters, his gleeful smile unaffected by the violence outside. "You're insane!" Our classmate Laurie shouted at him, a textbook in each hand. He glanced over at her and blinked. "No I'm not. Look what I'm doing." He pointed to his stack of mismatched highlighters and caps. I watched him as he took tape from some kid's desk and started to stick them together. Kevin glanced at me. "Don't you think I'm smart?" He asked. "Um..." I scratched my head. Was he smart? Was the happy-go-lucky, crazy kid in the English class for challenged kids... smart? "What are you going to use those for?" Kevin laughed. As in, bent over and clenched his stomach laughing. But he kept a hold on his highlighters. "Well, duh! They're highlighters." As he continued taping, his laughter died down. "Highlighters. Duh. They're highlighters," he repeated to himself. I raised an eyebrow, but didn't question him. Instead, I turned to go help the people blocking the window with books. As I approached the bookshelf, I froze. Looked at Kevin's contraption. And gasped. "Kevin!" I shouted, making every head in the room turn. "You're a freaking genius!" His little grin turned back into an ecstatic smile. "I told you so. Freaking genius. Hehe. That's me." Hesitantly, he handed his highlighter sword to me. "For you. I can make more." I nodded. "Thank you so much, Kevin." His self satisfied grin somehow grew wider as I stood up on a desk. "Everyone, you see these?" I held my highlighters out in front of me. "Make more of them. Also, sharpen some pencils and grab some heavy books. We can make this work. Just listen to me..." Everyone in the room gave me odd looks. But not by the end. When I was finished, they began to rummage through their backpacks and pencil cases to find more highlighters. The teacher pulled several boxes of highlighters out of her drawer, distributing them to our classmates. "We're gonna win! We're gonna live!" Kevin cried out at the end of my speech. I thought he was right. For the first time, the English class could win. *** Our first kill. One isolated band kid in the middle of the hall, holding a clarinet, shaking, looking back and forth. His instrument was bloodstained, but not more so than his face. I tiptoed directly behind him, then reached my highlighter pen out to his arm. Just a little closer... little closer... I swung, marking his arm blue. He spun around, suddenly tense, holding his clarinet in both hands. From eight o'clock, Kevin ran in, holding a textbook in his hands, giggling like a maniac. I crouched and grabbed the kid by the ankle. He tried to shake me off, but failed, tripping instead. I pinned his arms down and leaned to the side, pointing a pen down towards his neck. Kevin held the book up, looking down at his victim with a glint in his eyes. I jumped to the side the moment before the textbook came crashing down on the poor kid neck, hammering the pen in. A few more swings to the head and he was dead. My stomach dropped as three cooking class girls ran up to us, knives in each of their hands. Little did the know, Laurie was behind them. She stuck her pen out, marking all of their necks in one swing. They all turned around. Their guard being down for just a second, though, let Kevin and I take care of two of them, Laurie keeping the third down, waiting for Kevin to take care of him. "We're gonna wiiiiin!" Kevin said, looking to my eyes. I didn't hesitate to nod. *** Three students left. Me, Kevin, and the tuba player, Oscar. This time, I was equipped with a textbook and a pen, just in case I had to do it all by myself. But my most important weapon, my highlighters, I kept in my hand. Kevin and I remained still in our hiding place, some bushes that looked into a hall, where Oscar was looking into various classrooms as he passed them by. "Miki?" Kevin asked. "Yeah?" "Let me bait him this time." "Why?" For all the time I'd known Kevin, his smile was boisterous, obnoxious, and insane. But this time, it was sweet. "I want to make sure you survive." I hesitated. Could he even do it right? "I've been doing it this whole time though, you know?" "You almost died a lot." "Yeah, but..." "This kid is a tuba player. He can kill us. I'm gonna make sure he doesn't kill you." Before I could object, he ran. I couldn't just let him go on his own, though, as neither one of us could kill Oscar by ourselves. As we made it into the hallway, time seemed to slow. Kevin penned Oscar, but the latter seemed ready. He smashed his tuba into Kevin's head, but Kevin dodged. I tried to resist crying out. Thank goodness Oscar tripped, or I wouldn't have been able to get the tuba player face down. I pointed a pen down to his neck and looked to Kevin. A tear came to my eye as I saw his body. "No!" Kevin was lying face down, blood coming out of his head. I hammered the book particularly hard into Oscar. "No, no, no!" The tears poured out of my eyes, and I croaked out an angry sob. "Kevin, no..." I muttered once my work with Oscar was done. "Miki Jones wins the high school hunger games!" The speaker voice blared. I fell onto my side, breath hitching before I screamed as loudly as possible.
Edit: Feel free to write about people in other classes like math, P.E, etc. It doesn't just have to be English class. Many of the responses were great so I would love to see what the story would be like in other classes	[WP] The high school hunger games pits classes against each other. You use anything in the class to battle. The wood working class create spears and shields, the chemistry class use chemicals, the cooking class use knives. Meanwhile you're stuck in English class...	Once, I listened to wise older men Who claimed Sword was less mighty than Pen I did my best, but I've been stabbed in the gut; I sure won't fall for _that_ one again.	Everyone just sat at their desks, staring forward, lost in their fears. The words still rang in their ears, fresh from the morning announcements. This months Hunger Games will include AP Chemistry, 3rd period; US History, 5th period; Carpentry, 2nd period; Cooking, 7th period; and AP Literature, 6th period. Literature. English. Our class. We had no chance. Jena Yang in front of me was began to have a hyperventilation session, her anxiety kicking in. Someone across the room started to sob. The guy to my right, Todd Marsh, kept mumbling. "It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair." Not fair. Not fair. What was fair? I don't know. We never had a problem before when other classes went to fight. Is it not fair that we eventually fight too? They decide it all with the same jar, the same amount of names. Same chance of getting picked every time, I guess that was fair. The system though, I guess the that wasn't fair. Picking classes at random to fight, the losers going off to fight for real in the war. That wasn't fair. The bell rang and our teacher, Mrs. Gomez, walked in real slowly, her head fixed on her desk. She came up to a stool she usually taught on and just leaned on it. It was so silent you could have heard a pin drop, at least if Jena wasn't gasping for air. "Three classes." Mrs. Gomez said,"Three of my classes picked. You all are my forth." Her voice broke on 'forth' and she took a moment to compose herself. "I don't want to lie to you all. An English class has never won before. 20 have been picked and 20 have failed. They always fail. Then woosh" She did a throwing motion over her shoulder,"they go off to a war that never ends." A tear escaped her eye. "It just isn't fair." She tried to compose herself after that, listing possible strategies that had been tried. Throwing books, paper armor, plays, poetry, diplomacy, paper airplanes, even romance. None of it worked. What are books against spears or paper armor against acid? English classes have gotten the shaft in these games since they began. The thought was when they were created that the team that wins must have been great in their subject. That works, sure, for the classes that The Society held highest (Math, science, and apparently woodworking.) but anything in the language area just gets butchered. It's all just an excuse to send teenagers to war anyway. Four weeks pass and the games come-
Edit: Feel free to write about people in other classes like math, P.E, etc. It doesn't just have to be English class. Many of the responses were great so I would love to see what the story would be like in other classes	[WP] The high school hunger games pits classes against each other. You use anything in the class to battle. The wood working class create spears and shields, the chemistry class use chemicals, the cooking class use knives. Meanwhile you're stuck in English class...	*April 28th, Afternoon* Well my plan backfired a bit. I made sure to take a bunch of advantageous classes my senior year so when that Hunger Games bell rang, I would be in good position. Cooking, woodworking, biology seemed useful, chemistry was worth a shot, and gym class of course, but the bell rang while I was in English class. I had to take it in order to graduate. Our class scrambled to a nearby English Class fort where no doubt countless kids like me have died before. Hey, but at least I have this journal and pen, am I right? *April 28th, Evening* "Well, you know what they say! The pen is mightier than the sword, haha!" My friend smugly said before a sword plunged through his throat and sprayed blood all over me. The shop kids really have a leg up for this kinda thing. To think, if that bell rang two hours earlier, that would have been me with that nicely ground sword. I would have had fun using the angle grinder and making a badass sword. A few other kids got mowed down trying to defend themselves with pencils, pens, and books. I know better than that. I ran during the confusion, and on my way out, I broke off that longer paper slicer machete thing. This thing is actually a weapon! Like I said, no one saw me. I'm hiding in a tree now, the sun is setting. *April 28th, Night* In my tree. It's nice and dark here. I wish it was quiet though. These kids are tenacious down there and let me tell you, it seems to be no contest for the shop classers and woodworkers. Anybody taking those classes have been working on weapons for the last few months. I had a few projects going, I'm sure somebody stole me work. I just don't want the irony or getting killed by my own weapon. Honestly, I'm not sure if that's ironic. I never even wanted to take English class. *April 28th, Late Night* I don't know what my plan is. I can't sleep and when the sunrises I'll be seen for sure. I wonder how many kids died so far? I know we do this to keep world population down. It's brutal but necessary, I understand it, but why does my school have to split things up by class like this? Just seems to be an element of randomness that is unnecessary. I don't know. It's getting quiet at least. I'm sure these people are getting all tuckered out from either running or killing. I gotta do something. I'm going to sneak down and try to paper cutter machete somebody. *April 29th, Early Morning* I've been very productive! I killed three guys wearing football pads while they were napping. I'm not sure if that's legal, because there certainly weren't any parts of PE where I had to where pads. Either way, after that I tip toed into the school. Yeesh, what a mess in there. I'm not sure if it's a funny joke around here that we make the custodians fight, but it is funny how poorly they fought. Their bodies were slumped up against the lockers with a ton of other kids. They were clutching calculators and protractors. Geometry? Trigonometry? I'm not sure what kind or math they were in, but jeez that must have sucked. Those nerds didn't stand a chance. I'm in a empty class room right now with the door quadruple reinforced with desks. If anyone tries to get in, I guess I can jump out the window. *April 29th, Afternoon* What's going on out there? I've heard some pitter patter, but no screams in a couple hours. When this thing is done, will a siren go off or someone come in to get me? I don't know. I'm hungry though. I'm going to try to sneak to my locker and grab my lunch. *April 29th, Night* That didn't work at all. Moving all those desks out of the way was very noisy, especially when the all toppled over. Maybe no one heard I thought, but I was way wrong. An arrow whizzed by my head as soon opened the door. Honestly, I didn't know we had an archery class. That would have been a good pick. Luckily that loser couldn't aim at all and I ran into him full charge slashing him across the stomach with my paper cutter machete. I followed that up with a slice to the throat. I don't know how I managed something that cool, but it happened. Per the rules, I couldn't take the bow. I wish I could have because some shop kids walked around the corner. The chased me for a bit until one tripped and impaled his throat on a sharpened screw driver. The other two with him stopped to help while I kept running. I turned a corner and there was another group of kids, art class kids maybe I don't know. They saw me and chased after me too. I managed to get to the outside doors while dodging scissors and rulers being thrown at me. I took the sharpest hard right my body can do and jumped into some bushes. Honestly, I thought they were going to get me, but then I got lucky again. When the group that was chasing me got outside, another group of PE students with baseball bats patrolling the bike racks saw them. I couldn't see much through the bushes, but I don't think I need to say how easy it was for the baseball bat kids to beat down the other ones. A few tried to escape and were pursued. That gave me a chance to sneak away again. I'm here at the English fort again. What a slaughter... At least no one will think to check this place twice so soon. I'm still hungry. *April 30th, Morning* Killed a small group of swimmers who wandered into my fort. They seemed pretty scared. They must have been running from some one like I was yesterday. One of these kids actually was clutching a water polo ball. Could that have possibly come in handy? More importantly though, another one had four lunch boxes in her hand. Finally some food! *April 31st, Afternoon* This is taking much longer than I thought. I'm really hoping there's only a few of us left now and that the last couple classes end up killing themselves leaving only my class, with just me, remaining. I gotta imagine shop class still have a good dozen kids left. It's too risky to go out and try to pick some one off. I gotta wait longer... *April 31st, Night* I did some sneaking to see what's going on and happened upon a clash between who knows what classes. Guess what though? Shop class came and rolled them over like it wasn't even fair. Good news though, there looked to be only 5 of them left. One of them yelled out, "That's it! We won!" I'm not sure who's left, but they might be it. They're probably waiting for that siren to go off or whatever to signal that the Hunger Games are over. They don't know about me. I followed them back to see where they're staying. Tomorrow night I'm going to try to sneak attack them. For now, it's another night in the fort. Hopefully they don't check here tomorrow. *May 1st, Late Night* Okay, here I go. *May 6th, Day* Here's an update for ya! I won! I killed those 5 guys. They seemed so exhausted from days on end fighting, that no one even woke up when I slashed the throat of the first one. I took a couple slices to my arms and legs, and got a few bruises, but now that I've won, I get to enjoy the benefits of society - Top notch health care, free food whenever I want, my own place. If a low population yields all this, then I can't argue against the Hunger Games.	Everyone just sat at their desks, staring forward, lost in their fears. The words still rang in their ears, fresh from the morning announcements. This months Hunger Games will include AP Chemistry, 3rd period; US History, 5th period; Carpentry, 2nd period; Cooking, 7th period; and AP Literature, 6th period. Literature. English. Our class. We had no chance. Jena Yang in front of me was began to have a hyperventilation session, her anxiety kicking in. Someone across the room started to sob. The guy to my right, Todd Marsh, kept mumbling. "It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair." Not fair. Not fair. What was fair? I don't know. We never had a problem before when other classes went to fight. Is it not fair that we eventually fight too? They decide it all with the same jar, the same amount of names. Same chance of getting picked every time, I guess that was fair. The system though, I guess the that wasn't fair. Picking classes at random to fight, the losers going off to fight for real in the war. That wasn't fair. The bell rang and our teacher, Mrs. Gomez, walked in real slowly, her head fixed on her desk. She came up to a stool she usually taught on and just leaned on it. It was so silent you could have heard a pin drop, at least if Jena wasn't gasping for air. "Three classes." Mrs. Gomez said,"Three of my classes picked. You all are my forth." Her voice broke on 'forth' and she took a moment to compose herself. "I don't want to lie to you all. An English class has never won before. 20 have been picked and 20 have failed. They always fail. Then woosh" She did a throwing motion over her shoulder,"they go off to a war that never ends." A tear escaped her eye. "It just isn't fair." She tried to compose herself after that, listing possible strategies that had been tried. Throwing books, paper armor, plays, poetry, diplomacy, paper airplanes, even romance. None of it worked. What are books against spears or paper armor against acid? English classes have gotten the shaft in these games since they began. The thought was when they were created that the team that wins must have been great in their subject. That works, sure, for the classes that The Society held highest (Math, science, and apparently woodworking.) but anything in the language area just gets butchered. It's all just an excuse to send teenagers to war anyway. Four weeks pass and the games come-
Edit: Feel free to write about people in other classes like math, P.E, etc. It doesn't just have to be English class. Many of the responses were great so I would love to see what the story would be like in other classes	[WP] The high school hunger games pits classes against each other. You use anything in the class to battle. The wood working class create spears and shields, the chemistry class use chemicals, the cooking class use knives. Meanwhile you're stuck in English class...	*April 28th, Afternoon* Well my plan backfired a bit. I made sure to take a bunch of advantageous classes my senior year so when that Hunger Games bell rang, I would be in good position. Cooking, woodworking, biology seemed useful, chemistry was worth a shot, and gym class of course, but the bell rang while I was in English class. I had to take it in order to graduate. Our class scrambled to a nearby English Class fort where no doubt countless kids like me have died before. Hey, but at least I have this journal and pen, am I right? *April 28th, Evening* "Well, you know what they say! The pen is mightier than the sword, haha!" My friend smugly said before a sword plunged through his throat and sprayed blood all over me. The shop kids really have a leg up for this kinda thing. To think, if that bell rang two hours earlier, that would have been me with that nicely ground sword. I would have had fun using the angle grinder and making a badass sword. A few other kids got mowed down trying to defend themselves with pencils, pens, and books. I know better than that. I ran during the confusion, and on my way out, I broke off that longer paper slicer machete thing. This thing is actually a weapon! Like I said, no one saw me. I'm hiding in a tree now, the sun is setting. *April 28th, Night* In my tree. It's nice and dark here. I wish it was quiet though. These kids are tenacious down there and let me tell you, it seems to be no contest for the shop classers and woodworkers. Anybody taking those classes have been working on weapons for the last few months. I had a few projects going, I'm sure somebody stole me work. I just don't want the irony or getting killed by my own weapon. Honestly, I'm not sure if that's ironic. I never even wanted to take English class. *April 28th, Late Night* I don't know what my plan is. I can't sleep and when the sunrises I'll be seen for sure. I wonder how many kids died so far? I know we do this to keep world population down. It's brutal but necessary, I understand it, but why does my school have to split things up by class like this? Just seems to be an element of randomness that is unnecessary. I don't know. It's getting quiet at least. I'm sure these people are getting all tuckered out from either running or killing. I gotta do something. I'm going to sneak down and try to paper cutter machete somebody. *April 29th, Early Morning* I've been very productive! I killed three guys wearing football pads while they were napping. I'm not sure if that's legal, because there certainly weren't any parts of PE where I had to where pads. Either way, after that I tip toed into the school. Yeesh, what a mess in there. I'm not sure if it's a funny joke around here that we make the custodians fight, but it is funny how poorly they fought. Their bodies were slumped up against the lockers with a ton of other kids. They were clutching calculators and protractors. Geometry? Trigonometry? I'm not sure what kind or math they were in, but jeez that must have sucked. Those nerds didn't stand a chance. I'm in a empty class room right now with the door quadruple reinforced with desks. If anyone tries to get in, I guess I can jump out the window. *April 29th, Afternoon* What's going on out there? I've heard some pitter patter, but no screams in a couple hours. When this thing is done, will a siren go off or someone come in to get me? I don't know. I'm hungry though. I'm going to try to sneak to my locker and grab my lunch. *April 29th, Night* That didn't work at all. Moving all those desks out of the way was very noisy, especially when the all toppled over. Maybe no one heard I thought, but I was way wrong. An arrow whizzed by my head as soon opened the door. Honestly, I didn't know we had an archery class. That would have been a good pick. Luckily that loser couldn't aim at all and I ran into him full charge slashing him across the stomach with my paper cutter machete. I followed that up with a slice to the throat. I don't know how I managed something that cool, but it happened. Per the rules, I couldn't take the bow. I wish I could have because some shop kids walked around the corner. The chased me for a bit until one tripped and impaled his throat on a sharpened screw driver. The other two with him stopped to help while I kept running. I turned a corner and there was another group of kids, art class kids maybe I don't know. They saw me and chased after me too. I managed to get to the outside doors while dodging scissors and rulers being thrown at me. I took the sharpest hard right my body can do and jumped into some bushes. Honestly, I thought they were going to get me, but then I got lucky again. When the group that was chasing me got outside, another group of PE students with baseball bats patrolling the bike racks saw them. I couldn't see much through the bushes, but I don't think I need to say how easy it was for the baseball bat kids to beat down the other ones. A few tried to escape and were pursued. That gave me a chance to sneak away again. I'm here at the English fort again. What a slaughter... At least no one will think to check this place twice so soon. I'm still hungry. *April 30th, Morning* Killed a small group of swimmers who wandered into my fort. They seemed pretty scared. They must have been running from some one like I was yesterday. One of these kids actually was clutching a water polo ball. Could that have possibly come in handy? More importantly though, another one had four lunch boxes in her hand. Finally some food! *April 31st, Afternoon* This is taking much longer than I thought. I'm really hoping there's only a few of us left now and that the last couple classes end up killing themselves leaving only my class, with just me, remaining. I gotta imagine shop class still have a good dozen kids left. It's too risky to go out and try to pick some one off. I gotta wait longer... *April 31st, Night* I did some sneaking to see what's going on and happened upon a clash between who knows what classes. Guess what though? Shop class came and rolled them over like it wasn't even fair. Good news though, there looked to be only 5 of them left. One of them yelled out, "That's it! We won!" I'm not sure who's left, but they might be it. They're probably waiting for that siren to go off or whatever to signal that the Hunger Games are over. They don't know about me. I followed them back to see where they're staying. Tomorrow night I'm going to try to sneak attack them. For now, it's another night in the fort. Hopefully they don't check here tomorrow. *May 1st, Late Night* Okay, here I go. *May 6th, Day* Here's an update for ya! I won! I killed those 5 guys. They seemed so exhausted from days on end fighting, that no one even woke up when I slashed the throat of the first one. I took a couple slices to my arms and legs, and got a few bruises, but now that I've won, I get to enjoy the benefits of society - Top notch health care, free food whenever I want, my own place. If a low population yields all this, then I can't argue against the Hunger Games.	Nobody really knew what to do. After all, it was an actual battle; people were expected to fall. I had a lot of classes, useful ones as well. I had the basics, English, History, Science, Math. I had two other 'fun' classes as well, woodshop and welding. It wasn't a surprise when they announced that the class you'd be fighting with would be your fourth period class. English. I had to do something with... English? Before long, we had run out of ideas to brainstorm. No, we couldn't build a weapon, since it had to pertain to english. No, we couldn't make sharp pens, because the woodworking class had already done something similar. Everyone had run out of ideas. We thought we were screwed. Amidst the confusion and disappointment, I had an idea. No, I wasn't going to make a weapon. Instead, I was going to use my limitations to my advantage. I took my pen and wrote on a nearby blank paper. To whom it may concern... *1 Week Later* Everyone was ready. I was ready. In 5 minutes, we were going to be let out of our classes. The bloodthirst of my classmates was apparent, as their subject limitations caused them to use heavy textbooks as blunt force weapons. For sure it didn't stand against the woodshop's Spears and Swords, or the Chem Lab's Hydrochloric acid, or the drafting class' trebuchet, but we had the secret weapon. The gun went off. Everyone sprinted out of their rooms. Like a Civil War battle, everyone lined up at the center of the school, weapons drawn. It didn't take very long for my plan to get in action. With the help of the lockpick the modeling class made, we were able to bust into the school's office. Everyone immediately funneled inside. Once the office was full, woodshop nailed their spears to the doorway, blocking any entry. It wasn't necessary though; theater was too busy occupying the guards around the school so they wouldn't notice the break in. Once we were in, we dropped all of our weaponry, except for the Ag class. The lockpick was used once again to break into the Supervisor's office. And with one big swoop, the scythe took his head off. It could've been a bloodthirsty battle; people could have died, kids slaughtered, weapons free. But with the power of a few words, I was able to convince the school that maybe, we shouldn't fight each other. Rather, we could fight the corrupt ideology. Perhaps, in the anxiety of the school battle, we should question why we need to kill each other. Would it be better to be the last one standing, or would it be better to be the first one helping? ~SevenS. Be careful out there. Convince the others. This will only work if we are united.
Edit: Feel free to write about people in other classes like math, P.E, etc. It doesn't just have to be English class. Many of the responses were great so I would love to see what the story would be like in other classes	[WP] The high school hunger games pits classes against each other. You use anything in the class to battle. The wood working class create spears and shields, the chemistry class use chemicals, the cooking class use knives. Meanwhile you're stuck in English class...	Bzzzt "The cooking course has been eliminated" Laughter came resounding down the halls. "Ha, we got this in the bag! The only class left that might be a threat is English and they don't even have any weapons!" Many other voices shouted in agreement with the large grizzled senior, each student had a wooden shield and a sharp bloody spear. The wood working class advanced through the halls. "Ya know we ha-" the leader was unable to continue because his face was flattened by a flying dictionary. "Sticks and stones my break my bones but words will never hurt me, my ass."	Nobody really knew what to do. After all, it was an actual battle; people were expected to fall. I had a lot of classes, useful ones as well. I had the basics, English, History, Science, Math. I had two other 'fun' classes as well, woodshop and welding. It wasn't a surprise when they announced that the class you'd be fighting with would be your fourth period class. English. I had to do something with... English? Before long, we had run out of ideas to brainstorm. No, we couldn't build a weapon, since it had to pertain to english. No, we couldn't make sharp pens, because the woodworking class had already done something similar. Everyone had run out of ideas. We thought we were screwed. Amidst the confusion and disappointment, I had an idea. No, I wasn't going to make a weapon. Instead, I was going to use my limitations to my advantage. I took my pen and wrote on a nearby blank paper. To whom it may concern... *1 Week Later* Everyone was ready. I was ready. In 5 minutes, we were going to be let out of our classes. The bloodthirst of my classmates was apparent, as their subject limitations caused them to use heavy textbooks as blunt force weapons. For sure it didn't stand against the woodshop's Spears and Swords, or the Chem Lab's Hydrochloric acid, or the drafting class' trebuchet, but we had the secret weapon. The gun went off. Everyone sprinted out of their rooms. Like a Civil War battle, everyone lined up at the center of the school, weapons drawn. It didn't take very long for my plan to get in action. With the help of the lockpick the modeling class made, we were able to bust into the school's office. Everyone immediately funneled inside. Once the office was full, woodshop nailed their spears to the doorway, blocking any entry. It wasn't necessary though; theater was too busy occupying the guards around the school so they wouldn't notice the break in. Once we were in, we dropped all of our weaponry, except for the Ag class. The lockpick was used once again to break into the Supervisor's office. And with one big swoop, the scythe took his head off. It could've been a bloodthirsty battle; people could have died, kids slaughtered, weapons free. But with the power of a few words, I was able to convince the school that maybe, we shouldn't fight each other. Rather, we could fight the corrupt ideology. Perhaps, in the anxiety of the school battle, we should question why we need to kill each other. Would it be better to be the last one standing, or would it be better to be the first one helping? ~SevenS. Be careful out there. Convince the others. This will only work if we are united.
Edit: Feel free to write about people in other classes like math, P.E, etc. It doesn't just have to be English class. Many of the responses were great so I would love to see what the story would be like in other classes	[WP] The high school hunger games pits classes against each other. You use anything in the class to battle. The wood working class create spears and shields, the chemistry class use chemicals, the cooking class use knives. Meanwhile you're stuck in English class...	Another explosion rocked the side of the English classroom, sending a web of cracks running through the wall. Flakes of plaster drifted down from the ceiling and settled on the blood stained floor like snowflakes on a poppy field. Ingrid looked up from her notebook to check that their barricades were still intact, and that nobody else was hurt. Most of the remaining students were huddled under their desks. They clutched each other for comfort, waiting for the end. Someone was crying. She bent back over the page and tried to write faster. They were running out of time. One more explosion, and the Chemists would be through the wall. A few of the boys had gone out earlier to hold off the Mathematicians, armed with broken table legs and Ms. Kell's cane. That was over an hour ago, and they hadn't come back. Now it was all down to Ingrid. Why had she agreed to let her parents sent her here? She'd been perfectly happy at Smallville High, but then a letter had come for Mr. and Mrs. Watts, offering their only daughter a scholarship to a prestigious school in the mountains. A successful career was guaranteed - "All our graduates achieve the highest distinctions in their fields. - and a list of luminaries followed, many of whom Ingrid knew by just their first names. She'd weakened, even though the school had no website, not even a facebook page. None of its alumni even mentioned it in interviews. That should have been a good clue of what was in store. The chanting started again on the far side of the school. That was the Physical Education class. She'd seen them battling their way across the main courtyard earlier, with lacrosse sticks and cricket bats, leaving a bloody trail in their wake. They'd be coming back soon, perhaps joining forces with the chemists to finish off the besieged English class for good. Ingrid scratched a final line on the page, and put down the pen. Her hand was cramped from writing so fast. She could only hope that it would be enough. She remembered Ms. Kell's final words, just before she'd left. "Good luck, class. You're going to need it. An English class has never triumphed in the End-Of-Year exam before." And then their teacher had left, and the madness had begun. The glass window had been shattered by a Physics rocket earlier that morning, and Ingrid stepped up to the frame and gazed out at the wreckage of the courtyard, and the bodies of the students strewn across the lawn. An arrow from the Woodworking class clattered off the bricks to one side of her. At least they'd never been given archery lessons. "Listen, friends," she began, but her voice was choked with fear, and she stumbled. She cleared her throat. "Listen, friends, for I have a fable to tell you of two brothers whose parents set them against each other..." As she spoke, a quietness fell over the school. The battle chants ceased. The crying student's tears dried up. Even a blackbird stopped its song to listen. Ingrid read the words she'd written and they poured over the school like honey, a sweetness that enveloped the listeners and soothed the angry buzz of war. --- Read more of my stories at /r/jd_rallage	Nobody really knew what to do. After all, it was an actual battle; people were expected to fall. I had a lot of classes, useful ones as well. I had the basics, English, History, Science, Math. I had two other 'fun' classes as well, woodshop and welding. It wasn't a surprise when they announced that the class you'd be fighting with would be your fourth period class. English. I had to do something with... English? Before long, we had run out of ideas to brainstorm. No, we couldn't build a weapon, since it had to pertain to english. No, we couldn't make sharp pens, because the woodworking class had already done something similar. Everyone had run out of ideas. We thought we were screwed. Amidst the confusion and disappointment, I had an idea. No, I wasn't going to make a weapon. Instead, I was going to use my limitations to my advantage. I took my pen and wrote on a nearby blank paper. To whom it may concern... *1 Week Later* Everyone was ready. I was ready. In 5 minutes, we were going to be let out of our classes. The bloodthirst of my classmates was apparent, as their subject limitations caused them to use heavy textbooks as blunt force weapons. For sure it didn't stand against the woodshop's Spears and Swords, or the Chem Lab's Hydrochloric acid, or the drafting class' trebuchet, but we had the secret weapon. The gun went off. Everyone sprinted out of their rooms. Like a Civil War battle, everyone lined up at the center of the school, weapons drawn. It didn't take very long for my plan to get in action. With the help of the lockpick the modeling class made, we were able to bust into the school's office. Everyone immediately funneled inside. Once the office was full, woodshop nailed their spears to the doorway, blocking any entry. It wasn't necessary though; theater was too busy occupying the guards around the school so they wouldn't notice the break in. Once we were in, we dropped all of our weaponry, except for the Ag class. The lockpick was used once again to break into the Supervisor's office. And with one big swoop, the scythe took his head off. It could've been a bloodthirsty battle; people could have died, kids slaughtered, weapons free. But with the power of a few words, I was able to convince the school that maybe, we shouldn't fight each other. Rather, we could fight the corrupt ideology. Perhaps, in the anxiety of the school battle, we should question why we need to kill each other. Would it be better to be the last one standing, or would it be better to be the first one helping? ~SevenS. Be careful out there. Convince the others. This will only work if we are united.
	[WP] You can't outshoot, out gamble or out ride the criminal element in town, but folks made you sheriff because you can out bullshit anybody, any time.	“So you say you can out-shoot, out-gamble, and out-ride any criminal in town, and that’s why we should hire you as sheriff?” “That’s right.” “Well I never heard back from the mayor in… where was it you sheriffed last?” “Realtown. Least made-up town in the West.” “Right. Well if you can do for us what you say you did for Realtown, I would be pleased –no- honored for you to be our new sheriff.”	The lovely people of Wet Bedrock were all out in the town on Sunday, as it was a Sunday, so they all got to see me nearly soil my chaps while facing down a tall, muscular, and bald ne'erdowell who had just got done shooting and robbing the bartender. Truth be told, Ida not minded having less eyes and faces on me when I needed to make certain and particular decisions that day, seeing as acouplea children are now fit to have deviant natures, after witnessing me doing what I needed to do on that day... But you cannot pick your audience - especially in a town such as this. So, fella steps off his horse like I asked him to - only he holds onto his rifle exactly like I did not ask him to. Fearless and completely blind to Jesus, I could see it in his eyes. After sizing him up and assessing the situation for a few seconds, I take my hand off of my revolver and put both of my hands in the air. Wait right there and I'll go get you more money! I tells him. And feel free to take some hostages - I insist! He agrees to, simple as that, and I go inside my office where my girlfriend Tanya is sleeping off a hangover. I wake her up, make her a costume and slip her into it, then we walked outside. Remember last night, when he came into your room? You knocked her up! I tells him, showing him Tanya's belly, which is stuffed with some blank paperwork I found in my office. Let us go and we'll raise your baby! Clever guy asks me, is going to be a boy? Says he'll only not kill us if it's a boy. Of course it was going to be a boy! *** Hi there, and thanks for reading my story. I, /u/conniecompanion, have created a subreddit that's similar to /r/writingprompts, which is called: # /r/LFSFU The acronym stands for "Letters from science fictional universes," and the subreddit is a place where you can find, post, and comment on pieces that are written from a first-person view and have science fiction elements. ^For ^now ^I ^am ^its ^only ^moderator, ^but ^if ^and ^when ^it ^grows ^and ^I ^see ^a ^need ^to ^expand ^the ^team ^(to better promote discussion and keep out bad things) ^then ^I ^will ^let ^people ^know.
	[WP] You can't outshoot, out gamble or out ride the criminal element in town, but folks made you sheriff because you can out bullshit anybody, any time.	Sheriff Taylor was never considered the best man for, well, any job but now he found himself with a shiny new Sheriff’s badge and the tall order of cleaning up the town. Clarence Harris and the rest of the Harris Gang had been running Diamond City unofficially for the past three years and no one had been able to put a stop to them. They controlled the saloons, the brothels and the gambling houses along Main Street and didn’t care who knew it. If anyone had a problem with how they ran the town, they ended up in a ditch. That’s where the late Sheriff Dorn was found three nights previous after a scuffle in the streets resulted in three dead and two of the Harris Gang behind bars. The next morning Sheriff Dorn was found and the jail house was left in ashes. Taylor knew he couldn’t ride up and arrest Clarence Harris without finding himself in the same situation as Dorn so he started looking for other ways to deal with his gang. They all had their vices, every night nearly half the gang got piss drunk while the other half maintained control. They were smart about making sure they always had the muscle needed to maintain order and keep the law from trying to intervene. There was no obvious solution but the town didn’t come to Taylor for an obvious solution, they came to him for his knack to bullshit his way out of any situation. He wasn’t sure how that could be applied to a gang full of criminals who’d kill you as soon as look at you but the job came with pay and a place to sleep so he accepted it determined to figure out the rest later. Sheriff Taylor walked into the Diamond Saloon with no gun on his hip and his hands raised. “Let’s nobody get too excited now, I’m just here to have a friendly conversation.” “Fuck your conversation and fuck that badge you’re wearing, last man to walk into this bar with that badge ain’t doing so well.” Responded Clarence Harris. “Now now, that was a different man with different principals. I’d very much like to spend my final hours in the arms of woman in a brothel somewhere years from now so I’m not looking to do anything rash here. I waited a week to let things simmer down and now I’m here to have a chat.” Taylor said. Harris rolled his eyes, slammed his drink on the bar and drew his revolver pointing it right at the Sheriff’s face, “Say your peace and if I don’t like what I hear, I’m gonna blow your head off.” “That seems fair...I think.” Taylor moved a few steps to his right, took a seat at the nearest table and laid out his proposition. “This is how I see it, you and your boys run this town. You proved it the other night when you decided to, shall we say ‘retire’ Sheriff Dorn.” Laughter from Harris’ crew started to put the group at ease. As the tensioned in the room dropped, Taylor slowly crossed his legs and began to unstrap the pistol he had on his ankle. “I have no intention of ending up like that but the people of this town hired me to do something so I thought we could come to a mutual agreement. You keep doing what you’re doing and so as not to appear worthless, every couple nights when one of your boys gets a little out of hand in the saloon, I take him into sleep it off. The town can see that I’m able to enforce some law and all it costs is an occasional night in jail for one of your gang and you won’t get any issues from me in this town. For anything somewhat serious we can make a little show of it, pretend I’m sending one of your gang to the capital for a real trial when really they head out of town for a day and come back the next night, lay low for a few days and all is well.” “You may be wondering what you get out of all this and that’s a pretty straight forward answer, you get to deal with one Sheriff for years who only cares about staying alive. I give you no real trouble and you don’t kill me. You keep killing Sheriff’s and the governor’s not gonna have a choice but to send down some Marshall’s and that’s not what you want.” “We’re not worried about some piss ant Marshall’s, we’ve killed plenty.” Harris spat back. “Yes, I don’t doubt that for a second, but that just seems like too much work if you ask me. Seems like the life of a criminal is one with a goal of doing as little work as possible.” This thought seemed to ring true to Harris who set his revolver on the bar, took a seat and took a long draw from his beer. “Alright Sheriff Taylor, I don’t reckon that’s the worst idea I’ve heard. As much as I enjoy killing lawmen, the less I have to worry about the law getting any ideas of doing it’s job the better. I think we can give this a go on a trial basis...and if it doesn’t seem to be working I’ll just put a bullet in your head.” Laughter echoed from each corner of the saloon as Harris’ men returned to their drinks. At the same time Taylor pulled his pistol from his ankle holster and rested it on his crossed leg. “Why don’t we drink on it then, bartender, mind bringing me a fresh beer now that it looks like no one is getting shot?” The bartender scrambled nervously for a mug, still worried the new sheriff was gonna end up with a bullet in his head. He filled it full and began to bring it around the bar. “I’ll take that Joe.” Harris said grabbing the mug from the bartender. “As a token of our new agreement.” Harris walked over mug in hand, stopped halfway and with a sly grin to his men spit into the Sheriff's mug. He sauntered the rest of the way and set the mug in front of Sheriff Taylor with his wide dirty smile taunting the Sheriff and said “Cheers.” Sheriff Taylor didn’t consider himself a violent man, but he came into the Diamond Saloon with a plan and staring at Clarence Harris’ big dirty smile, one hand on his own mug and a hand on the Sheriff’s mug Taylor pulled the pistol up from his lap, pointed it right at Harris’ teeth and pulled the trigger. The bang silenced the entire bar as Clarence Harris fell to the ground, still holding onto both mugs and smiling through the hole in his front teeth. Taylor threw down his chair and ran for the saloon doors before a shot could be fired after him. Several of Harris’ men came chasing out after him to find themselves staring down the barrels of his four deputies and six US Marshals all on horseback.	The lovely people of Wet Bedrock were all out in the town on Sunday, as it was a Sunday, so they all got to see me nearly soil my chaps while facing down a tall, muscular, and bald ne'erdowell who had just got done shooting and robbing the bartender. Truth be told, Ida not minded having less eyes and faces on me when I needed to make certain and particular decisions that day, seeing as acouplea children are now fit to have deviant natures, after witnessing me doing what I needed to do on that day... But you cannot pick your audience - especially in a town such as this. So, fella steps off his horse like I asked him to - only he holds onto his rifle exactly like I did not ask him to. Fearless and completely blind to Jesus, I could see it in his eyes. After sizing him up and assessing the situation for a few seconds, I take my hand off of my revolver and put both of my hands in the air. Wait right there and I'll go get you more money! I tells him. And feel free to take some hostages - I insist! He agrees to, simple as that, and I go inside my office where my girlfriend Tanya is sleeping off a hangover. I wake her up, make her a costume and slip her into it, then we walked outside. Remember last night, when he came into your room? You knocked her up! I tells him, showing him Tanya's belly, which is stuffed with some blank paperwork I found in my office. Let us go and we'll raise your baby! Clever guy asks me, is going to be a boy? Says he'll only not kill us if it's a boy. Of course it was going to be a boy! *** Hi there, and thanks for reading my story. I, /u/conniecompanion, have created a subreddit that's similar to /r/writingprompts, which is called: # /r/LFSFU The acronym stands for "Letters from science fictional universes," and the subreddit is a place where you can find, post, and comment on pieces that are written from a first-person view and have science fiction elements. ^For ^now ^I ^am ^its ^only ^moderator, ^but ^if ^and ^when ^it ^grows ^and ^I ^see ^a ^need ^to ^expand ^the ^team ^(to better promote discussion and keep out bad things) ^then ^I ^will ^let ^people ^know.
	[WP] You can't outshoot, out gamble or out ride the criminal element in town, but folks made you sheriff because you can out bullshit anybody, any time.	Sheriff Taylor was never considered the best man for, well, any job but now he found himself with a shiny new Sheriff’s badge and the tall order of cleaning up the town. Clarence Harris and the rest of the Harris Gang had been running Diamond City unofficially for the past three years and no one had been able to put a stop to them. They controlled the saloons, the brothels and the gambling houses along Main Street and didn’t care who knew it. If anyone had a problem with how they ran the town, they ended up in a ditch. That’s where the late Sheriff Dorn was found three nights previous after a scuffle in the streets resulted in three dead and two of the Harris Gang behind bars. The next morning Sheriff Dorn was found and the jail house was left in ashes. Taylor knew he couldn’t ride up and arrest Clarence Harris without finding himself in the same situation as Dorn so he started looking for other ways to deal with his gang. They all had their vices, every night nearly half the gang got piss drunk while the other half maintained control. They were smart about making sure they always had the muscle needed to maintain order and keep the law from trying to intervene. There was no obvious solution but the town didn’t come to Taylor for an obvious solution, they came to him for his knack to bullshit his way out of any situation. He wasn’t sure how that could be applied to a gang full of criminals who’d kill you as soon as look at you but the job came with pay and a place to sleep so he accepted it determined to figure out the rest later. Sheriff Taylor walked into the Diamond Saloon with no gun on his hip and his hands raised. “Let’s nobody get too excited now, I’m just here to have a friendly conversation.” “Fuck your conversation and fuck that badge you’re wearing, last man to walk into this bar with that badge ain’t doing so well.” Responded Clarence Harris. “Now now, that was a different man with different principals. I’d very much like to spend my final hours in the arms of woman in a brothel somewhere years from now so I’m not looking to do anything rash here. I waited a week to let things simmer down and now I’m here to have a chat.” Taylor said. Harris rolled his eyes, slammed his drink on the bar and drew his revolver pointing it right at the Sheriff’s face, “Say your peace and if I don’t like what I hear, I’m gonna blow your head off.” “That seems fair...I think.” Taylor moved a few steps to his right, took a seat at the nearest table and laid out his proposition. “This is how I see it, you and your boys run this town. You proved it the other night when you decided to, shall we say ‘retire’ Sheriff Dorn.” Laughter from Harris’ crew started to put the group at ease. As the tensioned in the room dropped, Taylor slowly crossed his legs and began to unstrap the pistol he had on his ankle. “I have no intention of ending up like that but the people of this town hired me to do something so I thought we could come to a mutual agreement. You keep doing what you’re doing and so as not to appear worthless, every couple nights when one of your boys gets a little out of hand in the saloon, I take him into sleep it off. The town can see that I’m able to enforce some law and all it costs is an occasional night in jail for one of your gang and you won’t get any issues from me in this town. For anything somewhat serious we can make a little show of it, pretend I’m sending one of your gang to the capital for a real trial when really they head out of town for a day and come back the next night, lay low for a few days and all is well.” “You may be wondering what you get out of all this and that’s a pretty straight forward answer, you get to deal with one Sheriff for years who only cares about staying alive. I give you no real trouble and you don’t kill me. You keep killing Sheriff’s and the governor’s not gonna have a choice but to send down some Marshall’s and that’s not what you want.” “We’re not worried about some piss ant Marshall’s, we’ve killed plenty.” Harris spat back. “Yes, I don’t doubt that for a second, but that just seems like too much work if you ask me. Seems like the life of a criminal is one with a goal of doing as little work as possible.” This thought seemed to ring true to Harris who set his revolver on the bar, took a seat and took a long draw from his beer. “Alright Sheriff Taylor, I don’t reckon that’s the worst idea I’ve heard. As much as I enjoy killing lawmen, the less I have to worry about the law getting any ideas of doing it’s job the better. I think we can give this a go on a trial basis...and if it doesn’t seem to be working I’ll just put a bullet in your head.” Laughter echoed from each corner of the saloon as Harris’ men returned to their drinks. At the same time Taylor pulled his pistol from his ankle holster and rested it on his crossed leg. “Why don’t we drink on it then, bartender, mind bringing me a fresh beer now that it looks like no one is getting shot?” The bartender scrambled nervously for a mug, still worried the new sheriff was gonna end up with a bullet in his head. He filled it full and began to bring it around the bar. “I’ll take that Joe.” Harris said grabbing the mug from the bartender. “As a token of our new agreement.” Harris walked over mug in hand, stopped halfway and with a sly grin to his men spit into the Sheriff's mug. He sauntered the rest of the way and set the mug in front of Sheriff Taylor with his wide dirty smile taunting the Sheriff and said “Cheers.” Sheriff Taylor didn’t consider himself a violent man, but he came into the Diamond Saloon with a plan and staring at Clarence Harris’ big dirty smile, one hand on his own mug and a hand on the Sheriff’s mug Taylor pulled the pistol up from his lap, pointed it right at Harris’ teeth and pulled the trigger. The bang silenced the entire bar as Clarence Harris fell to the ground, still holding onto both mugs and smiling through the hole in his front teeth. Taylor threw down his chair and ran for the saloon doors before a shot could be fired after him. Several of Harris’ men came chasing out after him to find themselves staring down the barrels of his four deputies and six US Marshals all on horseback.	“So you say you can out-shoot, out-gamble, and out-ride any criminal in town, and that’s why we should hire you as sheriff?” “That’s right.” “Well I never heard back from the mayor in… where was it you sheriffed last?” “Realtown. Least made-up town in the West.” “Right. Well if you can do for us what you say you did for Realtown, I would be pleased –no- honored for you to be our new sheriff.”
	[WP] Write a tragic / heartbreaking letter of resignation or goodbye letter	deer mommy i heard wot the doctor said. i was hiding behind the door. i no i am going to die. i am sorry that i hit Karen that time and then said that I did not hit Karen. I am sorry that I lyed. i rember wot you said when edie died and i when i die i will go live with the angles and with petr pan and Winnie the poh and edie so i will not be alone. ples dont cry mommy. becase i hurt and when i die i wont be hurt any mor. p.s. ples kis Karen for me always p.p.s. dont let Karen bracke my bike becaus i want to rid it in heven. edit: word choice	There's just this empty pit in my throat keeping the words from coming out. Better that I just write them down instead. I spent the last year of my life trying to make yours livable. You'd suffered so much in all your years, it was easy to think you deserved better. It wasn't hard at all for the first part. Even the smallest kindness brought you joy. You told me that I was the only person in your life, you'd ever been able to rely on. It was all so simple wasn't it? You were always so grateful for the things that any decent human would do. And so the year went on. You said you were done with those who'd poisoned your soul. I wanted to believe you. You promised, you swore. So I kept giving and giving. Finally, I thought we were close to something. Something wonderful. Everyone who knew "us", saw how happy we were. They were happy for us. Then something went wrong. It all went sideways. Emotions that once flowed now dammed up behind barriers you erected. Distance forced as we finally had a chance to be close. You wanted to fight about everything. Every little infraction went nuclear. Some were legitimate transgressions of a minor cause. Things amplified by your stress. Others... others made no sense. Miscommunication you refused to accept. Other things that were barely anything. You were always so angry. You took it all out on me. All this in the span of three weeks. A thousand good deeds of the past year undone in less than a month of rage. Happiness drained away. Sadness replaced it. I sit here alone. Lost at what comes next. What happened to the woman I loved? Where did she go? What twisted our love into this unrecognizable monster? Will I ever get her back? Is this where it ends? Is this really goodbye?
	[WP]Write a gritty and depressing story set in a cutesy and childlike environment, or do the reverse and write a childishly optimistic fairy tale set in a grim dystopia.	It feels like months, possibly years ago, that I was abandoned here to rot by the ones I thought loved me. Left to explore this land of towers and structures I have never seen before. There are shrill shrieks of metal as one of the structures rocks gently in the wind. Back, forward, back, forward, each time with an ominous screech. There is the sound of crying from many directions as bodies strike the floor, failing to escape whatever demons are following them. One is balled up like an embryo left to waste away, a red liquid pouring out of his left knee and tears flowing down his cheeks. His screams for help attract gazes and a large creature sweeps him off the ground and leads him away. I never saw him again. Others surround me, their expressions showing curiousity in me. These demons want me. They want that red liquid, i'm sure of it! Their words are kind but I can tell there is evil intentions behind those smiles. I raise my fist ready to strike before my loved one returns. "Now now , Timmy, be nice to the other kids. Do you want to play on the swings, maybe you can go down the slide?" my mother asks, handing me a small carton with a straw in it. As I squeeze it, I shudder noticing the liquid within it is the same colour of the liquid that oozed from the floor child. Mother of God, I should never have came to this "playground"...	Ever since she died… The swing creaked, just barely, as a breeze flew by, nudging the rusted metal seat and the hook keeping it attached to the skeleton. It was a warm summer day; the roses, which almost looked like a frozen frame of an explosion of red and pink smoke, were in full bloom, their faces bright and smiling, but Megan couldn’t care. She was standing in the grass, lost in thought. …life has been tough. “Hey now,” A squeaky voice cut into her thoughts. Megan turned to see one of the roses was looking and talking to her. “Why do you have that frown; let’s try and turn it upside-down!” The roses seemed to speak in rhyme for some reason. It was ridiculous, and frankly, she hated them, ever since the loss of her sister, Lora. It wasn’t that they were terrible, oh no, of course not; to anyone else, they were complex and beautiful. They were to blame for Lora’s death, though. The innocent and naïve child listened to their song, and since it was blazing, they told her that it was the perfect day for a swim. The roses guided her to a lake, knowing full well she couldn’t swim and that Megan had overslept, due to a stomachache. Sometimes I find myself walking to her room, getting ready to wake her up… It happened again that morning. The birds were singing their usual wake-up song to her. Megan sat up and shooed them out of her room. Sunlight quietly streamed down out of her window and onto her sheets, the triangles printed on them haphazardly forming a colorful pattern. Her feet padded across the wood, the windows evenly placed across the hallway letting in the warm light. There were two windows open. Megan sighed. She thought she had closed them last night, as to keep the birds out from waking her up. Nevertheless, she leaned over and closed both of them again. The blonde stood in front of a door, one that hadn’t been opened or had its lights turned on in months. The letters taped onto the wood spelled “LORA” Megan started to knock on it, but paused, fist in midair. Eventually she sighed and her arm dropped back to her side. She hadn’t had the will or strength to dust off Lora’s belongings ever since she had died. …but then I remember what happened to her. No one else seems to remember, though. “Megan!” A woman’s voice called out. Blankly, she turned to the source. It was that puppet woman again, the one they called Mrs. Smiley. Her eyes were as dead as Megan’s, even though the latter was the only human in town now, and her pink hair was as plastic and fake as her smile. “Oh. Hello, Mrs. Smiley.” Megan said, blue eyes showing no emotion. Mrs. Smiley turned and greeted the singing roses before turning back to Megan. “Where is your silly sister these days? I haven’t seen her anywhere!” A pang shot through Megan’s heart. It was as if everyone was torturing her; the roses telling her to smile when she physically couldn’t, and Mrs. Smiley acting like Lora had gone away for vacation. “I told you. She’s dead, Mrs. Smiley.” They all think she’s left town for a couple of days. “Ah well, I’ll just give her this when she comes back.” Megan glanced at what was in her hand. Her husband, Mr. Smiley, as much as a puppet as she herself, was what they called a “woodsmith”, as he was able to craft tiny little figurines with his long, plastic beak. Yes, Mr. Smiley was a toy woodpecker, and no one seemed to think of it as odd except Megan. “For the last time, Mrs. Smiley, she’s not coming back. Those who die don’t come back!” Mrs. Smiley laughed and rage bubbled up inside Megan. “Megan, Megan, Megan, always the overdramatic one.” That was it, Megan snapped. She swiveled around on her heel, ready to school Mrs. Smiley, but at the last second, she thought up of something better. Her fist flew and connected with cheap material. It didn’t take much force to destroy Mrs. Smiley, and she crumbled away to little shards. Megan relaxed, empty once more. Her fist was bleeding, but she couldn’t feel the pain. She was living in a world as false as herself, and she was the only one who knew it was false; the roses, the sunlight, even the people themselves. But it seems like only I know the truth.
	[WP]Write a gritty and depressing story set in a cutesy and childlike environment, or do the reverse and write a childishly optimistic fairy tale set in a grim dystopia.	It feels like months, possibly years ago, that I was abandoned here to rot by the ones I thought loved me. Left to explore this land of towers and structures I have never seen before. There are shrill shrieks of metal as one of the structures rocks gently in the wind. Back, forward, back, forward, each time with an ominous screech. There is the sound of crying from many directions as bodies strike the floor, failing to escape whatever demons are following them. One is balled up like an embryo left to waste away, a red liquid pouring out of his left knee and tears flowing down his cheeks. His screams for help attract gazes and a large creature sweeps him off the ground and leads him away. I never saw him again. Others surround me, their expressions showing curiousity in me. These demons want me. They want that red liquid, i'm sure of it! Their words are kind but I can tell there is evil intentions behind those smiles. I raise my fist ready to strike before my loved one returns. "Now now , Timmy, be nice to the other kids. Do you want to play on the swings, maybe you can go down the slide?" my mother asks, handing me a small carton with a straw in it. As I squeeze it, I shudder noticing the liquid within it is the same colour of the liquid that oozed from the floor child. Mother of God, I should never have came to this "playground"...	ALL MY FRIENDS ARE DEAD A cute narration in a grim setting. There’s nothing I enjoy more than going on adventures with my friends. Of course, they’re all dead, but it’s not like I care. After all, human bodies take at least eight to twelve years before really decomposing into skeletons. That’s something Peter told me two weeks ago. Now don’t judge me- he started doing this long before I did. After the shadow people got Lucy, Peter wouldn’t let go of her damn corpse and brought her along everywhere. Oh God the smell! Let me tell you, it took me weeks to get used to the stench of rotting flesh. But now, I kinda like it. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I’m being totally honest here. Jasmine’ll tell you. She’s my girlfriend. The story’s kind of cute; we met at the beginning of the apocalypse, she lost her dog and I saved him from a bunch of shadow people. We got talking and found out we were both volunteers at the same pet shelter, only, we came on completely different days. She’s the one miracle that’s happened to me in this whole apocalypse. I still make love to her every night. Of course, we’ve reached that point in our relationship where maggots start sticking to my dick, but as I said, I kinda like it now. Her skin’s started to melt like syrup and she has no eyes anymore but if you ask me, she still gets prettier and prettier every day! Those stupid birds pulled them out while I slept. Peter, the silly boy, didn’t even wake me up. He was propped against the tree facing us. Jeez, give me a break. I never liked that asshole. It’s a real shame he’s the only one who survived. If he tries anything like that again, I’ll eat his other leg.
	[WP]Write a gritty and depressing story set in a cutesy and childlike environment, or do the reverse and write a childishly optimistic fairy tale set in a grim dystopia.	I can hear him high above me, growling and beating his chest. For the thousandth time, I wonder what his motivation is. Why did he take her? I press on, calves burning, as I traverse the ever-sloping walkway as it ascends towards my fate. When will this nightmare end? I hear multiple crashes several floors above me, and a dull grinding sound slowly rising in volume, as if some infernal machine were spinning up. I know what's coming for me. A massive thud shakes the scaffolding as they approach. Quickly, I make for the ladder and ascend it as fast as I can. Pulling myself free, I see it mounted on the wall. The sledgehammer. I yank it free and test its heft, giving it a few practice swings. My forearms burn with the weight of it, but this will do. This will do just nicely. Boom. The barrel falls from the ledge above, landing with an ungodly sound 30 feet in front of me, shaking the entire frame of this uneven scaffolding with it's weight. The barrel gathers speed as it rolls toward me. There's no room to dodge. I lift the sledgehammer high in the air and then bring it down in an arc, as if I'm chopping wood, or swinging a baseball bat. Oh, if only this were a game. With a massive crunch the sledgehammer connects with the barrel sending it careening over the edge. I'm safe for now. Quickly I ascend a ladder to the next level. Another massive barrel is almost on top of me, and I swing wildly. The barrel is deflected, but with a sickening sound my sledgehammer snaps in two. I discard the remnants and continue towards my destiny. I ascend another ladder. At this height, the walkway sways unsteadily with each step I take. As I approach another ladder I notice the hatch above it has detached and now lies on the floor in front of me. Suddenly another barrel falls through the open hole, landing 6 feet in front of me and now spinning crazily in my direction. With no means of defending myself I leap into the air barely clearing the massive, rust-colored drum. At my apex I get a glimpse of him through the grated walkway, two levels above. I'm getting close. Again I ascend. I'm prepared for the next barrel. Getting a running start, I easily hurdle it, and land without breaking stride. I tell myself that things will be different this time. I pull myself through the last hatch. I'm at this infernal tower's apex. Not 30 feet away stands the beast. My tormentor. He roars again, and I stop to cover my ears. Reaching to the wall behind him, he grabs another drum and flings it in my direction. I jump upwards and grab onto a dangling rope, allowing me to pull my feet upwards and out of danger, letting go once the barrel has passed. "J.M.! Help! I'm up here!" It's Pauline! I hadn't noticed her on a ledge just above my present location. "Stay there! I'm coming to get you," I shout, and I make a break for the ladder nearest me. The monster realizes what I'm doing and makes for the opposite end of the ledge. A perverted, funhouse-mirror image of my own movements. I scramble over the lip of the ledge and spot her... resplendent in the dress I bought for her in another lifetime. "We're going to have to jump for it," I yell, while reaching for her hand. But my fist closes on empty air. She's being pulled backwards by the beast, holding her other arm. He gives a grunt, as he scoops her up; massive brown arms enveloping her. For a moment, we lock eyes, and I see something in them. Something that chills me to my core. It's a glint. The ape is happy. He's enjoying this. It's just a damned game to him. I'd always heard ape's are the closest animal to humans, but until I saw the mirthful hatred in his eyes I'd never known how close. The beast and my beauty ascend upwards into darkness. "I love you, Pauline," I call out after them, but I don't know if she heard. I don't even know how to follow them, but I know it won't matter. From below I feel heat, and I realize for the first time that the room is on fire. My vision begins to blur and I sway unsteadily on my feet. Probably smoke inhalation. Everything goes dark and I pitch forward. As a slip into the inky black of unconsciousness I retain one last thought. "This damned game will never end."	I always knew it was him. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew it was love at first sight. We were both searching for food in different groups, hoping that the guards wouldn't see us. When they spotted one of us, we all ran. We ducked into the same alley and hid, praying to whatever deity existed that they wouldn't find us. It was right then that he kissed me. I wasn't expecting it. I wasn't even happy about it. I slapped him, right then and there. We didn't see each other for months. One day, after another day of working down in the mine, I saw him. He was on a wanted poster, accused of assaulting an official. I fell in love with the face on the poster. His blue eyes, his boyish looks. I ripped down the poster and hurried back to my designated living area. One day, he showed up. He was looking simply for a place to stay, asking if anyone could fit him in. No one was brave enough. Then he came to my door. That night was one of the best nights I've ever had. The next morning, when our daily physicals came through, one of the tests came back positive. I was pregnant. I don't remember how long it took to file the appropriate papers for spousal union. All I remember was how wonderful it felt to be with him. Finally, I was something. I could truly fulfill my place in the world, a wife and mother. Everyday, he goes off into the mines, while I sit in our designated living area and remember those good old days. He says that one day, the people will rise up, and all this will be gone. He seems to want it. But here, I am content. I hope nothing will change this paradise I am in. I will make sure of it. *** Well, I think it went a little off prompt, but hopefully not too much. If you think this was garbage, tell me about it and give me feedback! If you have indeed lost any semblance of sanity and think that this was good, tell me too! And then maybe seek psychiatric help.**
	[WP]Write a gritty and depressing story set in a cutesy and childlike environment, or do the reverse and write a childishly optimistic fairy tale set in a grim dystopia.	Once upon a time, a brave young boy was trapped in a giant tower. The tower was made of metal and painted black. The tower had no windows. The tower was a scary place. How I want to smell the grass again, the brave young boy thought, and swim in the sea like a dolphin, and watch the clouds again like a happy bird. "Not today. Not ever," the mean evil villain told him, as he shut and locked the door. He owned the tower, and he wasn't going to let him leave. As the days passed, the brave young boy started to forget it all. He forgot the smell of the grass. He forgot the feeling of the sea. And somehow, he started to forget the fluffy white clouds, when he heard a knock knock knock on the door. "Hello?" the brave young boy answered. It was a pair of federal agents in vests and sunglasses. They unlocked and opened the door. Sunshine and fresh air filled the room. They told the brave young boy that thanks to an unexpected leak of classified information, the mean evil villain had just been arrested on charges of fraud, money laundering, unlawful espionage, corporate warfare, and 117 infractions of the Mumbai Accords. In other words, they told him, the brave young boy was free to go. /// Scene #23 of /r/100scenes	I always knew it was him. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew it was love at first sight. We were both searching for food in different groups, hoping that the guards wouldn't see us. When they spotted one of us, we all ran. We ducked into the same alley and hid, praying to whatever deity existed that they wouldn't find us. It was right then that he kissed me. I wasn't expecting it. I wasn't even happy about it. I slapped him, right then and there. We didn't see each other for months. One day, after another day of working down in the mine, I saw him. He was on a wanted poster, accused of assaulting an official. I fell in love with the face on the poster. His blue eyes, his boyish looks. I ripped down the poster and hurried back to my designated living area. One day, he showed up. He was looking simply for a place to stay, asking if anyone could fit him in. No one was brave enough. Then he came to my door. That night was one of the best nights I've ever had. The next morning, when our daily physicals came through, one of the tests came back positive. I was pregnant. I don't remember how long it took to file the appropriate papers for spousal union. All I remember was how wonderful it felt to be with him. Finally, I was something. I could truly fulfill my place in the world, a wife and mother. Everyday, he goes off into the mines, while I sit in our designated living area and remember those good old days. He says that one day, the people will rise up, and all this will be gone. He seems to want it. But here, I am content. I hope nothing will change this paradise I am in. I will make sure of it. *** Well, I think it went a little off prompt, but hopefully not too much. If you think this was garbage, tell me about it and give me feedback! If you have indeed lost any semblance of sanity and think that this was good, tell me too! And then maybe seek psychiatric help.**
	[WP]Write a gritty and depressing story set in a cutesy and childlike environment, or do the reverse and write a childishly optimistic fairy tale set in a grim dystopia.	I can hear him high above me, growling and beating his chest. For the thousandth time, I wonder what his motivation is. Why did he take her? I press on, calves burning, as I traverse the ever-sloping walkway as it ascends towards my fate. When will this nightmare end? I hear multiple crashes several floors above me, and a dull grinding sound slowly rising in volume, as if some infernal machine were spinning up. I know what's coming for me. A massive thud shakes the scaffolding as they approach. Quickly, I make for the ladder and ascend it as fast as I can. Pulling myself free, I see it mounted on the wall. The sledgehammer. I yank it free and test its heft, giving it a few practice swings. My forearms burn with the weight of it, but this will do. This will do just nicely. Boom. The barrel falls from the ledge above, landing with an ungodly sound 30 feet in front of me, shaking the entire frame of this uneven scaffolding with it's weight. The barrel gathers speed as it rolls toward me. There's no room to dodge. I lift the sledgehammer high in the air and then bring it down in an arc, as if I'm chopping wood, or swinging a baseball bat. Oh, if only this were a game. With a massive crunch the sledgehammer connects with the barrel sending it careening over the edge. I'm safe for now. Quickly I ascend a ladder to the next level. Another massive barrel is almost on top of me, and I swing wildly. The barrel is deflected, but with a sickening sound my sledgehammer snaps in two. I discard the remnants and continue towards my destiny. I ascend another ladder. At this height, the walkway sways unsteadily with each step I take. As I approach another ladder I notice the hatch above it has detached and now lies on the floor in front of me. Suddenly another barrel falls through the open hole, landing 6 feet in front of me and now spinning crazily in my direction. With no means of defending myself I leap into the air barely clearing the massive, rust-colored drum. At my apex I get a glimpse of him through the grated walkway, two levels above. I'm getting close. Again I ascend. I'm prepared for the next barrel. Getting a running start, I easily hurdle it, and land without breaking stride. I tell myself that things will be different this time. I pull myself through the last hatch. I'm at this infernal tower's apex. Not 30 feet away stands the beast. My tormentor. He roars again, and I stop to cover my ears. Reaching to the wall behind him, he grabs another drum and flings it in my direction. I jump upwards and grab onto a dangling rope, allowing me to pull my feet upwards and out of danger, letting go once the barrel has passed. "J.M.! Help! I'm up here!" It's Pauline! I hadn't noticed her on a ledge just above my present location. "Stay there! I'm coming to get you," I shout, and I make a break for the ladder nearest me. The monster realizes what I'm doing and makes for the opposite end of the ledge. A perverted, funhouse-mirror image of my own movements. I scramble over the lip of the ledge and spot her... resplendent in the dress I bought for her in another lifetime. "We're going to have to jump for it," I yell, while reaching for her hand. But my fist closes on empty air. She's being pulled backwards by the beast, holding her other arm. He gives a grunt, as he scoops her up; massive brown arms enveloping her. For a moment, we lock eyes, and I see something in them. Something that chills me to my core. It's a glint. The ape is happy. He's enjoying this. It's just a damned game to him. I'd always heard ape's are the closest animal to humans, but until I saw the mirthful hatred in his eyes I'd never known how close. The beast and my beauty ascend upwards into darkness. "I love you, Pauline," I call out after them, but I don't know if she heard. I don't even know how to follow them, but I know it won't matter. From below I feel heat, and I realize for the first time that the room is on fire. My vision begins to blur and I sway unsteadily on my feet. Probably smoke inhalation. Everything goes dark and I pitch forward. As a slip into the inky black of unconsciousness I retain one last thought. "This damned game will never end."	One day I will reach the stars. Ever since I became conscious I could feel this urge to go up. An almost driving passion... Odd... I can never remember why? Why... whyyyyy... to escape of course But from what? I'm confused. It hurts all over... all of my pieces hurt I remember a young man. "Don't worry guys we're safe here. The evac teams are on the way, we just need to stay put and we'll be put on the next colony ship out of here." The group was huddled among hundreds at the gates ready to leave. Waiting to be rescued. A few of my thousand eyes rested on the tall metal structure. That's where we'll leave. I couldn't remember how though. A few other eyes looked up toward the beautiful starry sky. It always gave me so much hope to look up. Such a great feeling as all of my collective brains sparked signals of relief. I remember an older man. "Sweetie look up. See the sky? Look at all those pretty stars! We're going to go up and fly among them!" "Why can't we stay here daddy?" "I'm sorry sweetheart but--" Mother interjected, "Is there even enough evacuation ships left? What if there isn't enough space for us?" "We can only hope, Trace. We gotta be strong... for Lorie." The ground was covered entirely in me. My parts reached out for miles in all directions connecting with others. It hurt all over but I knew I just had to go up and I would feel better. It would be soon... I'm not sure how but I just felt that I would leave soon... Suddenly looking at the horizon I felt dread. I felt fear. Why? I suddenly found myself repulsive. I'm scared. I remember a woman. She had been here for almost a month now. She woke up one morning and looked out the window. She saw it. Along the horizon. A faint tinge of red spreading closer. The Rust was here. It had been a week since the last ship had left and the preparations for the next ship had been taking a suspiciously long time. She thought, "Don't worry, it'll take a few weeks before it reaches us." The next ship ought to be ready by then. But deep down, she knew the truth. As days went by the red mass crept closer and closer integrating all it came across. A giant mass of flesh and body parts slowly creeping forward. One morning she decided to take a step off her 14th floor balcony. One day I will reach the stars. My thousands of minds tell me so. It will be soon.
	[WP]Write a gritty and depressing story set in a cutesy and childlike environment, or do the reverse and write a childishly optimistic fairy tale set in a grim dystopia.	Once upon a time, a brave young boy was trapped in a giant tower. The tower was made of metal and painted black. The tower had no windows. The tower was a scary place. How I want to smell the grass again, the brave young boy thought, and swim in the sea like a dolphin, and watch the clouds again like a happy bird. "Not today. Not ever," the mean evil villain told him, as he shut and locked the door. He owned the tower, and he wasn't going to let him leave. As the days passed, the brave young boy started to forget it all. He forgot the smell of the grass. He forgot the feeling of the sea. And somehow, he started to forget the fluffy white clouds, when he heard a knock knock knock on the door. "Hello?" the brave young boy answered. It was a pair of federal agents in vests and sunglasses. They unlocked and opened the door. Sunshine and fresh air filled the room. They told the brave young boy that thanks to an unexpected leak of classified information, the mean evil villain had just been arrested on charges of fraud, money laundering, unlawful espionage, corporate warfare, and 117 infractions of the Mumbai Accords. In other words, they told him, the brave young boy was free to go. /// Scene #23 of /r/100scenes	One day I will reach the stars. Ever since I became conscious I could feel this urge to go up. An almost driving passion... Odd... I can never remember why? Why... whyyyyy... to escape of course But from what? I'm confused. It hurts all over... all of my pieces hurt I remember a young man. "Don't worry guys we're safe here. The evac teams are on the way, we just need to stay put and we'll be put on the next colony ship out of here." The group was huddled among hundreds at the gates ready to leave. Waiting to be rescued. A few of my thousand eyes rested on the tall metal structure. That's where we'll leave. I couldn't remember how though. A few other eyes looked up toward the beautiful starry sky. It always gave me so much hope to look up. Such a great feeling as all of my collective brains sparked signals of relief. I remember an older man. "Sweetie look up. See the sky? Look at all those pretty stars! We're going to go up and fly among them!" "Why can't we stay here daddy?" "I'm sorry sweetheart but--" Mother interjected, "Is there even enough evacuation ships left? What if there isn't enough space for us?" "We can only hope, Trace. We gotta be strong... for Lorie." The ground was covered entirely in me. My parts reached out for miles in all directions connecting with others. It hurt all over but I knew I just had to go up and I would feel better. It would be soon... I'm not sure how but I just felt that I would leave soon... Suddenly looking at the horizon I felt dread. I felt fear. Why? I suddenly found myself repulsive. I'm scared. I remember a woman. She had been here for almost a month now. She woke up one morning and looked out the window. She saw it. Along the horizon. A faint tinge of red spreading closer. The Rust was here. It had been a week since the last ship had left and the preparations for the next ship had been taking a suspiciously long time. She thought, "Don't worry, it'll take a few weeks before it reaches us." The next ship ought to be ready by then. But deep down, she knew the truth. As days went by the red mass crept closer and closer integrating all it came across. A giant mass of flesh and body parts slowly creeping forward. One morning she decided to take a step off her 14th floor balcony. One day I will reach the stars. My thousands of minds tell me so. It will be soon.
	[WP]Write a gritty and depressing story set in a cutesy and childlike environment, or do the reverse and write a childishly optimistic fairy tale set in a grim dystopia.	Once upon a time, a brave young boy was trapped in a giant tower. The tower was made of metal and painted black. The tower had no windows. The tower was a scary place. How I want to smell the grass again, the brave young boy thought, and swim in the sea like a dolphin, and watch the clouds again like a happy bird. "Not today. Not ever," the mean evil villain told him, as he shut and locked the door. He owned the tower, and he wasn't going to let him leave. As the days passed, the brave young boy started to forget it all. He forgot the smell of the grass. He forgot the feeling of the sea. And somehow, he started to forget the fluffy white clouds, when he heard a knock knock knock on the door. "Hello?" the brave young boy answered. It was a pair of federal agents in vests and sunglasses. They unlocked and opened the door. Sunshine and fresh air filled the room. They told the brave young boy that thanks to an unexpected leak of classified information, the mean evil villain had just been arrested on charges of fraud, money laundering, unlawful espionage, corporate warfare, and 117 infractions of the Mumbai Accords. In other words, they told him, the brave young boy was free to go. /// Scene #23 of /r/100scenes	CHILDISH INTERPRETATION Once upon a time, there was a big city called Mega City One. Mega City One is a huge city, with lots and lots of people living there. But some of the people were bad and hurt others. To keep the bad people from hurting the good people, they made Judges. One was named Judge Dredd, and he was the best cop ever. No one ever did any bad things after meeting with Dredd. One day, he went out with his new friend to get some bad guys who were making a big mess. He told them to stop being bad, and a lot of them listened. One didn't though, and her name was Ma-Ma. Ma-Ma said mean things to Dredd, and threw things at him. Dredd didn't like this, and let Ma-Ma know that he didn't like it. So Ma-Ma slows down and realizes she did a bad thing. Then everyone lived happily ever after. The end.
	[WP]Write a gritty and depressing story set in a cutesy and childlike environment, or do the reverse and write a childishly optimistic fairy tale set in a grim dystopia.	Once upon a time, a brave young boy was trapped in a giant tower. The tower was made of metal and painted black. The tower had no windows. The tower was a scary place. How I want to smell the grass again, the brave young boy thought, and swim in the sea like a dolphin, and watch the clouds again like a happy bird. "Not today. Not ever," the mean evil villain told him, as he shut and locked the door. He owned the tower, and he wasn't going to let him leave. As the days passed, the brave young boy started to forget it all. He forgot the smell of the grass. He forgot the feeling of the sea. And somehow, he started to forget the fluffy white clouds, when he heard a knock knock knock on the door. "Hello?" the brave young boy answered. It was a pair of federal agents in vests and sunglasses. They unlocked and opened the door. Sunshine and fresh air filled the room. They told the brave young boy that thanks to an unexpected leak of classified information, the mean evil villain had just been arrested on charges of fraud, money laundering, unlawful espionage, corporate warfare, and 117 infractions of the Mumbai Accords. In other words, they told him, the brave young boy was free to go. /// Scene #23 of /r/100scenes	GRITTY INTERPRETATION All was well in the kingdom before Lord Licorice began plotting his takeover of Candyland. His machinations knew no end, even going so far as to steal King Kandy's own children and abandon them on the border of the realm. For weeks, their only company was a large, hairy creature whose fur was stained green with algae. Having a strange affinity for the local fruit, the children named the creature "Plumpy." Had Mr. Mint not come across the children during his work, they might easily have starved to death, or been devoured by the creature. Mint knew he could not trust a monster of that size to be so close to the children, barely old enough to be considered heirs. He attacked the creature, his axe connecting to the creature's ribs. With a great howl, the creature swung back, missing Mr. Mint's head by inches. Mint wrenched the axe from the creature and drove the head of his weapon into the neck of his foe. With a gurgle, the beast slumped to the ground, dead. Mr. Mint instantly recognized the children as the son and daughter of King Kandy himself. There was hardly a soul in the kingdom who did not know the faces of the two most famous children in Candyland. Kneeling to meet them at eye level, he informed them that he would escort them as far as he could to Candy Castle, but that they must stay close to him if they wish to survive. "For there are a great many dangers we face on the way to the castle," he spoke. "We must pass through the Gumdrop Mountains. A man named Jolly is said to thrive there. But do not let his name betray you; he is an eccentric man with peculiar tastes. Do not let him get you alone, or the other will never see you again." The children nodded their heads in subservience. "After we pass the Gumdrop Mountains, we have a long trek before we get anywhere safe. We will tread on the very border of Lord Licorice's lands, a ruthless tyrant. I have heard rumors that he slew his own family to secure his throne, and I care not to be there long enough to find out the truth." The girl spoke up, "But...there has to be someone who would help us. Our father is the king, after all." Propping himself up with his ribboned tool, he informed the girl, "Perhaps. I have an old friend on the far side of Lollipop Woods. I haven't heard from her in years, but she may be of help to us." The boy now spoke up, "But what about Princess Lolly? Or Queen Frostine? Surely someone of nobility would see us home safely." Mr. Mint stared down at the boy in bemusement. "Your father hasn't told you much, has he?" The children gazed back up at him in awe. Mint sighed, "Frostine and Lolly have been at war with your father for as long as you both have been alive. Each claims that they have sole right to sit upon the Hard Candy Throne. It is best that you two lay low for now." And with no other words, Mr. Mint led the two children towards Gumdrop Mountains, axe perched upon his shoulder.
	[WP]Write a gritty and depressing story set in a cutesy and childlike environment, or do the reverse and write a childishly optimistic fairy tale set in a grim dystopia.	A cold wind blew on Ponytown. The candybeans were in bloom, but all the color in the world couldn't crack the worn face of Mr. Buttercup. He leaned up against the back wall of the flowertorium, waiting for his contact to show. He chewed on his lollipop stick, it's sweet flavor long vanished, turned into the bitter grit of cardboard and his own saliva. A shadow approached from around the corner and Mr. Buttercup eyed the figured with suspicion. She had a mane on her, that was for sure. Pink as the sunset, and longer than most. It had to be Lady Sprinkles. "You're the source?" Mr. Buttercup shoved off of the wall and trotted down the alley toward Lady Sprinkles, "You? You right there with the mayor and his ilk. You smile as they drag the dissenters away!" "I do what I must to survive." Lady Sprinkles' voice was not the same as it was in public, fear colored it instead of laughter, "You know they watch. They always watch. I have to be what they want to see. It all has to be happy. It all has to be bright!" Mr. Buttcup nodded and spat his lollipop stick on the ground, "Where'd they take Bluebell?" "Bluebell? This is about Bluebell?" Sprinkles took a step back, "No, that's too big. If you go after Bluebell then we're all dead. Bluebell's already dead, I'm sure of it. After what she did-" "She's important." Mr. Buttercup closed the gap between them, showing his teeth, "If we don't get Bluebell then its curtains for all of us. Fine, candy curtains for all." "MARCY!" Marcy looked up from her old and faded Ponytown playset. It was in bad shape, but it was all she had. She made it hers. When she was in Ponytown she wasn't hungry. Ponytown was where she liked to be. "Yes mom?" Marcy dropped the one-eyes Mr. Buttercup doll and the sticky, hairy Lady Sprinkles and squeezed around the fallen I-beam that cut right through her bedroom. She climbed over the broken door and hopped down into the hallways, skipping her way into the kitchen where her mother and father stood grinning. "I caught a rabbit, honey!" Her dad beamed, holding up the large animal by its back feet, "Real rabbit! Come here, feel it's fur!" Marcy made an O with her mouth and wandered over, sticking her hands onto the grey fur, "It's so soft!" "I can make a hat for you from it." Marcy's mom smiled, "If you want." "Wow!" Marcy hopped up and down, "And we'll have meat tonight!" "Yes!" Her father laid the rabbit on the counter top, picked his daughter up and swung her around in the air until she was in fits of giggles, "Rabbit stew! Like your grandmother used to make! With carrots!" "Carrots!" Marcy laughed, "Carrots are for ponies!" "Well, you're my little pony." Her dad kissed her on the forehead and held her tight.	GRITTY INTERPRETATION All was well in the kingdom before Lord Licorice began plotting his takeover of Candyland. His machinations knew no end, even going so far as to steal King Kandy's own children and abandon them on the border of the realm. For weeks, their only company was a large, hairy creature whose fur was stained green with algae. Having a strange affinity for the local fruit, the children named the creature "Plumpy." Had Mr. Mint not come across the children during his work, they might easily have starved to death, or been devoured by the creature. Mint knew he could not trust a monster of that size to be so close to the children, barely old enough to be considered heirs. He attacked the creature, his axe connecting to the creature's ribs. With a great howl, the creature swung back, missing Mr. Mint's head by inches. Mint wrenched the axe from the creature and drove the head of his weapon into the neck of his foe. With a gurgle, the beast slumped to the ground, dead. Mr. Mint instantly recognized the children as the son and daughter of King Kandy himself. There was hardly a soul in the kingdom who did not know the faces of the two most famous children in Candyland. Kneeling to meet them at eye level, he informed them that he would escort them as far as he could to Candy Castle, but that they must stay close to him if they wish to survive. "For there are a great many dangers we face on the way to the castle," he spoke. "We must pass through the Gumdrop Mountains. A man named Jolly is said to thrive there. But do not let his name betray you; he is an eccentric man with peculiar tastes. Do not let him get you alone, or the other will never see you again." The children nodded their heads in subservience. "After we pass the Gumdrop Mountains, we have a long trek before we get anywhere safe. We will tread on the very border of Lord Licorice's lands, a ruthless tyrant. I have heard rumors that he slew his own family to secure his throne, and I care not to be there long enough to find out the truth." The girl spoke up, "But...there has to be someone who would help us. Our father is the king, after all." Propping himself up with his ribboned tool, he informed the girl, "Perhaps. I have an old friend on the far side of Lollipop Woods. I haven't heard from her in years, but she may be of help to us." The boy now spoke up, "But what about Princess Lolly? Or Queen Frostine? Surely someone of nobility would see us home safely." Mr. Mint stared down at the boy in bemusement. "Your father hasn't told you much, has he?" The children gazed back up at him in awe. Mint sighed, "Frostine and Lolly have been at war with your father for as long as you both have been alive. Each claims that they have sole right to sit upon the Hard Candy Throne. It is best that you two lay low for now." And with no other words, Mr. Mint led the two children towards Gumdrop Mountains, axe perched upon his shoulder.
	[WP] His knife was sharp, but her claws were sharper.	Leo took a deep breath, trying to calm his trembling nerves. He looked at the knife in his hands, sharp and cold, and at the scratches down his arms, hot and throbbing. A low growl rumbled from around the corner. He could hear her, he knew she was there. Waiting. Watching. Looking for any sign that his guard had dropped for just a moment. He dared to look round. "Now, where are you?" Leo could see nothing except the old couch by the window. Her claws had made deep gouges in the leather. Fuck, he thought. Why does it have to be me? The growl sounded again, louder this time. He swallowed his fear, and in one fluid movement stepped out from his hiding place. Immediately, a pale streak shot out from beneath the couch and flew towards his face, screaming blue murder. He wrestled it to the ground, wincing as the claws dug into his skin, tearing over the previous scratches she had gouged. "For fuck's sake, Mittens! I'm clipping your claws, not tearing your eyes out!" The ginger cat yowled in protest as he finally pinned her down. Leo scowled at her as he started clipping her claws. "Honestly, I pick the bluntest knife just so I don't cut you, and you do this! Really, Mittens," he scolded, "you're such a baby sometimes." He ruffled her fur when he was done. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Thoughts? : D	It really makes sense that he was the brain, then, right? When you really look at them and think about it, she's got the blades, and he's got the plans. Have you ever contacted them? I heard that their services are quite expensive. It's more than worth it, though. They deliver death as much as they avoid it. People even say that they might have a deal with the crown... or the devil. By the way, they've dissapeared again. They seem to be hunting someone. They were last seen at that inn that they seem to love. The... uh... Dragon's Nest? Something like that. That's like two days from here, around Myria. But I don't think you'll find them. When they are in the hunt, they're invisible. Go there and wait it out, they'll surely go there after this job. But hey, you seem really interested in them, right? You even shivered once or twice as I talked. Is it that you need a job done? Or maybe... You are the job? Ha! Boy, you're in trouble. I could even fight you for the bounty, but they'll get the drop on you in just a couple of days, i'm sure. And they sure don't like thieves. I'd rather not get in the way. You hear that noise? That's not a delusion, young man, nor is it the wind. She must be right besides us, waiting to strike. And you can't outrun her or beat her in combat, but I heard that if you entertain her you might get a quicker one, you know? Maybe you should've stayed hidden, but maybe it's too late now.
	[WP] His knife was sharp, but her claws were sharper.	Leo took a deep breath, trying to calm his trembling nerves. He looked at the knife in his hands, sharp and cold, and at the scratches down his arms, hot and throbbing. A low growl rumbled from around the corner. He could hear her, he knew she was there. Waiting. Watching. Looking for any sign that his guard had dropped for just a moment. He dared to look round. "Now, where are you?" Leo could see nothing except the old couch by the window. Her claws had made deep gouges in the leather. Fuck, he thought. Why does it have to be me? The growl sounded again, louder this time. He swallowed his fear, and in one fluid movement stepped out from his hiding place. Immediately, a pale streak shot out from beneath the couch and flew towards his face, screaming blue murder. He wrestled it to the ground, wincing as the claws dug into his skin, tearing over the previous scratches she had gouged. "For fuck's sake, Mittens! I'm clipping your claws, not tearing your eyes out!" The ginger cat yowled in protest as he finally pinned her down. Leo scowled at her as he started clipping her claws. "Honestly, I pick the bluntest knife just so I don't cut you, and you do this! Really, Mittens," he scolded, "you're such a baby sometimes." He ruffled her fur when he was done. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Thoughts? : D	His light swept across the oak paneled walls and thick, lush carpet. In the distance he could hear gunshots and the occasional scream, but in his corridor there was only silence and his heavy, careful tread. He grinned to himself and tightened his hold on the rifle. The children's rooms seemed unguarded, he could almost feel their young flesh in his hands... His flashlight beam played over a small, delicately carved oak table with a framed photo displayed on it. The table was nestled in a small alcove recessed in the corridor wall, and the photo showed a smiling group of children posing near a lake. I can't wait to meet some of you, he thought to himself. So many young, smiling faces... A noise from across the hall caught his attention and he turned away from the picture. From behind a wood paneled door opposite him he thought he could hear muffled sobbing. He grinned, and approached the door. Bringing up his rifle in front of him, he slowly reached out and twisted the doorknob. On the other side was a comfortably appointed room with bunk beds, posters, and a heavy leather couch. In the corner huddled a group of children, wearing pajamas and faces tight with fear. In the back of the group the man could see a young girl crying and being comforted by another child who couldn't have been more than a year older. She must be what he had heard out in the hall. The man licked his lips and slowly lowered his rifle. This is it. He could feel his heart-beat speeding up, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He smiled at the children, and slowly reached across his chest and gripped the handle of his hunting knife. There was was silence in the room as he slowly lifted his knife and approached the small, silent group. From the front of the silent circle of children a figure stepped out to meet him. She was a small, skinny girl who couldn't have been more than twelve years old, and yet as she stepped towards him there was no fear in her eyes. "Oh, am I going to enjoy this," he said, and licked the blade of his knife. She looked at him and slowly lowered her hands to her side, slightly outstretched with her palms facing towards him. She slowly curled her fingers into fists. SNIKT!
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	> be me > that's funny, there's no internet > better put on my gas mask > already fondling my soviet bolt action rifle > raise Venetian blinds 11mm and peek outside > there's a handfull of neckbeards and a chubby girl > they're running around with flashlights and brooms > huh > I watch for a minute then try the internet again > the power is out, too, now. > look back at the redditors. one has a 1911 from kimber > shygddt even rock island would have better bang! bang! > he's shooting at something > hard to see in the dark > He's down. some kinda spider thing has him pinned > other neckbeards swat at it with brooms but soon overwhelmed > it is my time > open window > 85m > aim nugget a little low for center of mass hit boom > report from rifle echoes off houses > car alarms go off > spider/alien is paste now > other creatures run off > the redditors look in my direction > can't see shit at 85m in the dark > they call and wave but i don't feel like talking > recheck the internet. still down and that's how i became the legend that saved the leader of the redditfags from the aayyy's	She sat there staring at the screen. It had been almost a month since things changed. The only reminder that things had once been different lay clasped in her hand. As her fingers glided over the shattered and almost unrecognizable screen, she took solace in the gentle glow. In the darkness around her, she heard a gentle rustling. The others were there sleeping, wrapped in their false sense of security. Almost subconsciously, she opened the app. It was amazing how much she clung to this one seemingly insignificant thing. She refreshed the page knowing nothing would change, the servers had been down for weeks. A post appeared. With her heart racing, she opened it, unable to read the title. Inside it simply said: "Goodbye." The screen fades and the rustling stops.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	These aliens come in peace, you can't just blame the entire race of aliens for 1 ship killing 10 million people. Nor the 5 aliens that killed 20 million yesterday. You guys are being extremely bigotted and racist. Me: they are literally saying kill and enslave all humans. Look they need earths resources too. I'm reporting you for hate speech. Me: open reddit type "dear aliens, leave no one alive."	She sat there staring at the screen. It had been almost a month since things changed. The only reminder that things had once been different lay clasped in her hand. As her fingers glided over the shattered and almost unrecognizable screen, she took solace in the gentle glow. In the darkness around her, she heard a gentle rustling. The others were there sleeping, wrapped in their false sense of security. Almost subconsciously, she opened the app. It was amazing how much she clung to this one seemingly insignificant thing. She refreshed the page knowing nothing would change, the servers had been down for weeks. A post appeared. With her heart racing, she opened it, unable to read the title. Inside it simply said: "Goodbye." The screen fades and the rustling stops.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	It had been the most upvoted comment in three places, cross posted and tagged Controversial, Sticky AND Serious in r/WorldNews, r/Politics and r/TIL . Sure, the recipe was all simple stuff, if not a little complicated; I mean, it kinda had to be. And while it wasn't ONLY Redditors who successfully inoculated themselves against the initial xenophage, it was over 60% and that's enough for a statistician anyway. Once the ships actually descended, I guess they were expecting a depopulated planet instead the young, the web-literate and the trolls armed with homebrewed explosives, commandeered military equipment and more snark than any ET could have ever expected. 'AMA Tank Team' and 'TIL diy plastique' were very popular threads that week.	She sat there staring at the screen. It had been almost a month since things changed. The only reminder that things had once been different lay clasped in her hand. As her fingers glided over the shattered and almost unrecognizable screen, she took solace in the gentle glow. In the darkness around her, she heard a gentle rustling. The others were there sleeping, wrapped in their false sense of security. Almost subconsciously, she opened the app. It was amazing how much she clung to this one seemingly insignificant thing. She refreshed the page knowing nothing would change, the servers had been down for weeks. A post appeared. With her heart racing, she opened it, unable to read the title. Inside it simply said: "Goodbye." The screen fades and the rustling stops.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	Let me tell you a story, kid. The Sufari came to Earth in March of 2034. They bearing technology we could only imagine, language we could barely approximate, and a thought process that was all honor and rules that didn't make sense to most of us. Their weapons were capable of destruction in ways we had never seen. They wiped out billions of us in the first volley, blasts of energy keyed, somehow, to destroy only humans, and only those humans they decided needed to be destroyed. The world itself, they left standing. Our technology, weak as it was in comparison. Our defenses. Our buildings and our infrastructure. Even animals, plants, food. They left it all. They didn't want our world, our resources. They wanted a fight. They wanted what they considered a fair fight. They were the champions of their world, and they wanted to face the champions of ours. But they chose our champions for us. They looked over the world in secret when they arrived, and chose a caste of people known for a variety of thought and philosophy, united by a common thread, a common love, but in endless combat with each other. For some reason we may never understand, they chose Redditors. 1000 link karma. That's all it took to make the list. Comment karma didn't count for shit, they wanted champions, not lurkers. 1000 measly link karma, and somehow you found yourself standing unharmed as the people around your - friends, family, strangers - disintegrated in a wave of alien energy. We put the causality together pretty quickly, because of course pretty much all of us took to Reddit first thing, looking for survivors. That's where we found the post. Stickied to everyone's front page, written in English so perfect it had to be alien. The Sufari explained to us that we'd been chosen to stand for Earth, to earn our right to survive. They saw us as bred for battle, living it with our hearts, minds, and souls. Willing to fight to the death over the most inconsequential of subjects. Unfeeling, uncaring of the pain we caused each other, they believed we would fight them with the same tenacity. They were confident we'd provide a challenge, but they were clear in their expectation that we would lose. They weren't even a little bit prepared. Some of us, we'd been on Reddit since the beginning, or near enough as to make no difference. I'd personally accidentally missed 21 Cake Days, and was coming up on my 22nd when they arrived. Over the decades, many of us had accumulated so much more than 1000 link karma. So much more. We rose up, we became leaders. It could have been the moderators, but no one wanted to deal with how they wanted to run things - no one ever appreciated the moderators. Most of them broke off early on, formed their own tribe, fell to infighting. They few that remain, well ... you know what they are. Nearly as bad as the Sufari, enforcing their maniacal rules on all of us, in their golden masks. Modern inquisitors, ensuring everyone plays by the rules, but really just making sure everyone plays by their crazy whims. No, leadership didn't land on them. It fell to those of us with real influence. I myself had lucked out - Summer of 2017, I wrote myself a novel, pulled a major following over on /r/Fantasy. Had myself some allies on a couple D&D subreddits, some other tabletop subreddits. Built myself a modest army of tactical thinkers and wanna-be heroes, all of them looking for something to believe in, some chance to prove themselves. Had my fair share of tabletop quarterbacks, Mary Sues, assholes obsessed with traitor mechanics. Weeded them out, built a solid fighting force. Those self-destructive lunatics over at /r/WoW came for me first ... they were bad before WoW 2 dropped, they'd just gotten worse in the years since. We sent 'em packing, though. Clean, easy. They hate each other more than they'll ever hate the rest of us. So that was my tribe. But there were others. So many others. The watchers from the news subreddits, their darker counterparts from /r/PublicFreakout. The gamers, seeking greatness. The sovereign citizens, seeking their own rules ... they didn't last too long, once the moderators stopped their infighting and turned to the rest of us. The sovereigns were the first to fall, and it wasn't even to the Sufari. That's what threw the aliens off, I think - they were expecting a united front to fight them, not an eclectic collection of hundreds of tribes as willing to fight each other as we were the Sufari. But we were capable of rising up together, and that's exactly what we did. Those Browncoat heroes over on /r/Firefly - I'll love every one of them until the day I die, hand to heart - they brought us together in the first and last united battle against the Sufari. They showed us, for one glorious moment, what we could do when we worked together ... honor them, kid, when you see them. You'll never find a more dedicated bunch, and we have a lot in common. Just don't call what they did "unification." Either way, they brought us together. The Founders - those unknowing programmers who had created and grown Reddit before the Sufari came - very few of them actually survived the initial attack. Ironic, really. But those that survived, they took on one job: Keeping Reddit running, keeping us communicating. The Sufari were struggling, they couldn't wipe us out when we were so scattered, even while we were fighting each other. So the went for the Founders, in the ruins of San Francisco ... I guess you don't know that name. It's the island north of Silone Valley. That used to be a city, you know. The Sufari, they descended on the ruins, they went for our heart. And the Browncoats brought us together. For one day, we stopped killing each other and started killing the Sufari. They couldn't handle it. We fought with a tenacity you can only have from spending years refusing to be wrong. We fought with the unflinching unity you can only find in echo bubbles. We fought with the hopeful dedication of die-hard fans, of people who won't be told who or what they can or should love. We'd each of us, all of us, spent a lifetime at our keyboards, thinking we could change, save, or destroy the world based on our whims. And the Sufari? Well, the Sufari were fool enough to actually make that a reality. They weren't prepared for us to actually take them up on it. Not one of them survived. Not one escaped. No sequels here. They won't be coming back. We brought them down, we burned them to ash, and we destroyed their ships. That was thirty years ago. This is our world, and we're not leaving it, we're not giving it up. Not even to each other. We're still here, and we're still fighting. But you know that. I'm rambling on now. Curse of being an old Redditor, I guess. Maybe you'll get lucky and get to know what I mean. But first, you gotta survive the day. The enemy is at our gates. Go. Be a hero. Find something to believe in. Change the world. And, hey: Happy 16th Cake Day, kid.	She sat there staring at the screen. It had been almost a month since things changed. The only reminder that things had once been different lay clasped in her hand. As her fingers glided over the shattered and almost unrecognizable screen, she took solace in the gentle glow. In the darkness around her, she heard a gentle rustling. The others were there sleeping, wrapped in their false sense of security. Almost subconsciously, she opened the app. It was amazing how much she clung to this one seemingly insignificant thing. She refreshed the page knowing nothing would change, the servers had been down for weeks. A post appeared. With her heart racing, she opened it, unable to read the title. Inside it simply said: "Goodbye." The screen fades and the rustling stops.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	That night started like hundreds previous other nights, as I sat perusing the front page of the internet. My eyes barely registered the posts about Trump, or the endless art threads where a lone protagonist faces a distance, menacing goliath. I was here for the good stuff. It had long become my addiction. Was I ashamed? Of course. I hid that folder in the deepest reaches of my PC. Categorized, ranked and backed up to my precious external drive which was layered in bubble wrap. I was an expert. In my head. Hours spent looking at pictures, pouring over videos and gifs. Studying movement and behaviour. Commenting on how cute they were, what I'd do to them if they were mine. My imagination often went wild, but I wanted to experience the mundane as well. Walks on the beach, spooning each other as we nap in the sun, sitting down to watch TV after a long day. Then it happened. Quickly. Reddit barely had time to argue about it before all communication was terminated. I sat at my PC, wondering what was next. Was it even worth wondering? I clutched my external drive tight. It was my desert island movie. Forget the Swiss army knife or blanket. The cities were hit hard. I decided to make a break for the country. Maybe buy myself some time. I packed some essentials, made sure my laptop was charged, wrapped the drive in an extra layer of bubble wrap and ran. It seemed like days. Ships were hovering in every direction I looked. They were raining down destruction with impunity. Fireballs rose from the city, and screams bounced off the hills I was staggering across. I could feel them closing in. I took shelter in an old barn and turned on my laptop. One last time before the end I thought, as I plugged in the external drive. I clicked the dozen or two times necessary to find the folder and I went crazy. Multiple videos at once, slideshows of the pictures and manually clicking through gifs. My only regret if it ended here, would be that I never experienced this in real life. I wept at the tragedy of it all. The barn doors slammed open and there stood two immense and grotesque creatures, their three fingered hands glowing as if the energy they emitted was barely contained. Their multiple irises darting back and forth made them look almost perplexed as they came upon my shameful scene. As a habit, I covered the screen with my hands. "Huu-maaan" the first one droned out. "Whot....yooo.....hiiid.....ing?" The last syllable dropping out of his mouth like a rock into a deep pool. "N...n..nothing!" I stammered as I went to close the lid. The second made a tremendous noise, guttural and high pitched at the same time. Instinctively I knew it meant 'stop.' I froze. They walked over with amazing grace for such enormous beings. I hung my head in shame. My last moments on earth would be a story for these aliens and their buddies. They would laugh at my disgrace and exaggerate my patheticness. Not exactly how I pictured my legacy. "Whot....isss......this...?" This time it hissed out of its mouth. I rose my head and stared into its round toothless maw. I steeled myself . I had nothing to be ashamed of, and if I was going to die, I would die like the man I yearned to be. "I...I downloaded these from the internet, a global information hub." He pointed at a picture. "Doo...yoo...all...have..?" The energy from his finger seemed to distort the picture so he pulled it away. "Some of us...some of us have these." I pointed to a different picture. His pupils expanded as he examined the screen. "Why....huuu.....man?" His speech becoming more clear with every sentence. "Well...for some it's a necessity, others it's just for fun. It's rewarding in many ways." "You...look...after...these?" It seemed genuinely curious. "They look after us too." I replied proudly. I wouldn't die in shame. They arched their heads toward each other and the energy seemed to dissipate from their hands. "Humans not all that bad." His speech nearly perfect now, as they turned around and seemed to glide out the door. I watched as their ships and hundreds of others shrank into stars in the night. Relieved beyond belief, I sat back at the laptop and digested what had just occurred. I laughed quietly to myself and promised never to be ashamed again. Even the aliens thought it was totally natural. I decided it was time to go. Moving the cursor over to the x, I closed the folder labelled r/aww and closed the laptop. "I'm getting a cat."	She sat there staring at the screen. It had been almost a month since things changed. The only reminder that things had once been different lay clasped in her hand. As her fingers glided over the shattered and almost unrecognizable screen, she took solace in the gentle glow. In the darkness around her, she heard a gentle rustling. The others were there sleeping, wrapped in their false sense of security. Almost subconsciously, she opened the app. It was amazing how much she clung to this one seemingly insignificant thing. She refreshed the page knowing nothing would change, the servers had been down for weeks. A post appeared. With her heart racing, she opened it, unable to read the title. Inside it simply said: "Goodbye." The screen fades and the rustling stops.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	> be me > that's funny, there's no internet > better put on my gas mask > already fondling my soviet bolt action rifle > raise Venetian blinds 11mm and peek outside > there's a handfull of neckbeards and a chubby girl > they're running around with flashlights and brooms > huh > I watch for a minute then try the internet again > the power is out, too, now. > look back at the redditors. one has a 1911 from kimber > shygddt even rock island would have better bang! bang! > he's shooting at something > hard to see in the dark > He's down. some kinda spider thing has him pinned > other neckbeards swat at it with brooms but soon overwhelmed > it is my time > open window > 85m > aim nugget a little low for center of mass hit boom > report from rifle echoes off houses > car alarms go off > spider/alien is paste now > other creatures run off > the redditors look in my direction > can't see shit at 85m in the dark > they call and wave but i don't feel like talking > recheck the internet. still down and that's how i became the legend that saved the leader of the redditfags from the aayyy's	They die immediately at the sight of the hopelessly awkward and the screeches of the autistics they encounters when attempting to clear all dank, stuffy basements and one bedroom semen stenched apartments. All unwitting heroes have one thing in common.. a website where spacedicks and drumpf-o-phobes and files congregate to earn each other's respect and fake internet points.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	It had been the most upvoted comment in three places, cross posted and tagged Controversial, Sticky AND Serious in r/WorldNews, r/Politics and r/TIL . Sure, the recipe was all simple stuff, if not a little complicated; I mean, it kinda had to be. And while it wasn't ONLY Redditors who successfully inoculated themselves against the initial xenophage, it was over 60% and that's enough for a statistician anyway. Once the ships actually descended, I guess they were expecting a depopulated planet instead the young, the web-literate and the trolls armed with homebrewed explosives, commandeered military equipment and more snark than any ET could have ever expected. 'AMA Tank Team' and 'TIL diy plastique' were very popular threads that week.	They die immediately at the sight of the hopelessly awkward and the screeches of the autistics they encounters when attempting to clear all dank, stuffy basements and one bedroom semen stenched apartments. All unwitting heroes have one thing in common.. a website where spacedicks and drumpf-o-phobes and files congregate to earn each other's respect and fake internet points.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	> be me > that's funny, there's no internet > better put on my gas mask > already fondling my soviet bolt action rifle > raise Venetian blinds 11mm and peek outside > there's a handfull of neckbeards and a chubby girl > they're running around with flashlights and brooms > huh > I watch for a minute then try the internet again > the power is out, too, now. > look back at the redditors. one has a 1911 from kimber > shygddt even rock island would have better bang! bang! > he's shooting at something > hard to see in the dark > He's down. some kinda spider thing has him pinned > other neckbeards swat at it with brooms but soon overwhelmed > it is my time > open window > 85m > aim nugget a little low for center of mass hit boom > report from rifle echoes off houses > car alarms go off > spider/alien is paste now > other creatures run off > the redditors look in my direction > can't see shit at 85m in the dark > they call and wave but i don't feel like talking > recheck the internet. still down and that's how i became the legend that saved the leader of the redditfags from the aayyy's	We were the only ones left. It was tough. If it wasn't for the exponentially better wifi and access to billions of new alien internet domains with a built-in translator, we might have even left our houses. But we didn't.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	It had been the most upvoted comment in three places, cross posted and tagged Controversial, Sticky AND Serious in r/WorldNews, r/Politics and r/TIL . Sure, the recipe was all simple stuff, if not a little complicated; I mean, it kinda had to be. And while it wasn't ONLY Redditors who successfully inoculated themselves against the initial xenophage, it was over 60% and that's enough for a statistician anyway. Once the ships actually descended, I guess they were expecting a depopulated planet instead the young, the web-literate and the trolls armed with homebrewed explosives, commandeered military equipment and more snark than any ET could have ever expected. 'AMA Tank Team' and 'TIL diy plastique' were very popular threads that week.	We were the only ones left. It was tough. If it wasn't for the exponentially better wifi and access to billions of new alien internet domains with a built-in translator, we might have even left our houses. But we didn't.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	> be me > that's funny, there's no internet > better put on my gas mask > already fondling my soviet bolt action rifle > raise Venetian blinds 11mm and peek outside > there's a handfull of neckbeards and a chubby girl > they're running around with flashlights and brooms > huh > I watch for a minute then try the internet again > the power is out, too, now. > look back at the redditors. one has a 1911 from kimber > shygddt even rock island would have better bang! bang! > he's shooting at something > hard to see in the dark > He's down. some kinda spider thing has him pinned > other neckbeards swat at it with brooms but soon overwhelmed > it is my time > open window > 85m > aim nugget a little low for center of mass hit boom > report from rifle echoes off houses > car alarms go off > spider/alien is paste now > other creatures run off > the redditors look in my direction > can't see shit at 85m in the dark > they call and wave but i don't feel like talking > recheck the internet. still down and that's how i became the legend that saved the leader of the redditfags from the aayyy's	"Happy New Year!" I say to myself, Yet again after another year with no progress. I sat surrounded by the empty seats in my home. It was all good, Everthing went right, Until this. I send out another post to r/askreddit trying to find any hope of life. a day passes. again. nothing. I had almost lost hope until i noticed that i had gotten an upvote on my post. The light illuminating off my phone from the notification put what felt like a smile on my face. I had no connection to whoever liked it; nor did i think I would ever be saved. But it gave me hope- Hope that one day, The world would be back to normal. Without them. The one who upvote my post probably couldn't do anything. Likely a typical redditior. Fat, Eats chips 24/7. I realized nothing could be done about them. I had lost hope. I knew i couldn't last a second out there. I knew it was certain i would die. I knew they would take control of my beloved home. I hear hovering above my head; So i crawl down under the table. Again. It's over. Nothing could be done. After a while, I shut off my phone, And sat on the ground, Crying.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	It had been the most upvoted comment in three places, cross posted and tagged Controversial, Sticky AND Serious in r/WorldNews, r/Politics and r/TIL . Sure, the recipe was all simple stuff, if not a little complicated; I mean, it kinda had to be. And while it wasn't ONLY Redditors who successfully inoculated themselves against the initial xenophage, it was over 60% and that's enough for a statistician anyway. Once the ships actually descended, I guess they were expecting a depopulated planet instead the young, the web-literate and the trolls armed with homebrewed explosives, commandeered military equipment and more snark than any ET could have ever expected. 'AMA Tank Team' and 'TIL diy plastique' were very popular threads that week.	"Happy New Year!" I say to myself, Yet again after another year with no progress. I sat surrounded by the empty seats in my home. It was all good, Everthing went right, Until this. I send out another post to r/askreddit trying to find any hope of life. a day passes. again. nothing. I had almost lost hope until i noticed that i had gotten an upvote on my post. The light illuminating off my phone from the notification put what felt like a smile on my face. I had no connection to whoever liked it; nor did i think I would ever be saved. But it gave me hope- Hope that one day, The world would be back to normal. Without them. The one who upvote my post probably couldn't do anything. Likely a typical redditior. Fat, Eats chips 24/7. I realized nothing could be done about them. I had lost hope. I knew i couldn't last a second out there. I knew it was certain i would die. I knew they would take control of my beloved home. I hear hovering above my head; So i crawl down under the table. Again. It's over. Nothing could be done. After a while, I shut off my phone, And sat on the ground, Crying.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	> be me > that's funny, there's no internet > better put on my gas mask > already fondling my soviet bolt action rifle > raise Venetian blinds 11mm and peek outside > there's a handfull of neckbeards and a chubby girl > they're running around with flashlights and brooms > huh > I watch for a minute then try the internet again > the power is out, too, now. > look back at the redditors. one has a 1911 from kimber > shygddt even rock island would have better bang! bang! > he's shooting at something > hard to see in the dark > He's down. some kinda spider thing has him pinned > other neckbeards swat at it with brooms but soon overwhelmed > it is my time > open window > 85m > aim nugget a little low for center of mass hit boom > report from rifle echoes off houses > car alarms go off > spider/alien is paste now > other creatures run off > the redditors look in my direction > can't see shit at 85m in the dark > they call and wave but i don't feel like talking > recheck the internet. still down and that's how i became the legend that saved the leader of the redditfags from the aayyy's	Another cat video. Seems like every day is a cat video. Ilikegolf1 put his phone down with a heavy sigh, rest his Ruger .22 on the tree stump to his left and unscrewed the metal top of his canteen. "We just gonna sit here again?" Gtr478 protested angrily, his feet kicking dirt as he sprawled his body on the moist ground. The canteen screeched as it's top came off, with more protest than Golf's campanion. "When are we gonna act?" "When they tell us too." Golf said with more conviction than he meant and watched his friend's expression sink in despair. There were so few of them left, they hadn't seen another soul on months. And they wouldn't. More than a few life forms in one place would attract the hunters. It always had. Golf shivered at the memory of the last time they had spotted "friends," nothing but their heads and innerds left outside of what was once a shelter, it's charred wood burned to ash and it's rock base scattered like a salted farm, never to be of use again. He yearned for a dog video, or at least a meme to give them some direction or a course of action. As it was now, every day was a simple cat. "Relax. Eat. Sleep." And then repeat. GTR's heavy breathing drew Golf's attention. Clutched in his shaking hand, his phone was streaming video. A workout video. "Lose 10 pounds in 1 Week Fails" it said. Just posted. 179 upvotes. 2 gold. They made eye contact, knowing what it meant. Blindly reaching for his pistol, Golf brought himself to his feet only to lay eyes on a horrid sight. If only the post had come earlier, they could have prepared.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	Let me tell you a story, kid. The Sufari came to Earth in March of 2034. They bearing technology we could only imagine, language we could barely approximate, and a thought process that was all honor and rules that didn't make sense to most of us. Their weapons were capable of destruction in ways we had never seen. They wiped out billions of us in the first volley, blasts of energy keyed, somehow, to destroy only humans, and only those humans they decided needed to be destroyed. The world itself, they left standing. Our technology, weak as it was in comparison. Our defenses. Our buildings and our infrastructure. Even animals, plants, food. They left it all. They didn't want our world, our resources. They wanted a fight. They wanted what they considered a fair fight. They were the champions of their world, and they wanted to face the champions of ours. But they chose our champions for us. They looked over the world in secret when they arrived, and chose a caste of people known for a variety of thought and philosophy, united by a common thread, a common love, but in endless combat with each other. For some reason we may never understand, they chose Redditors. 1000 link karma. That's all it took to make the list. Comment karma didn't count for shit, they wanted champions, not lurkers. 1000 measly link karma, and somehow you found yourself standing unharmed as the people around your - friends, family, strangers - disintegrated in a wave of alien energy. We put the causality together pretty quickly, because of course pretty much all of us took to Reddit first thing, looking for survivors. That's where we found the post. Stickied to everyone's front page, written in English so perfect it had to be alien. The Sufari explained to us that we'd been chosen to stand for Earth, to earn our right to survive. They saw us as bred for battle, living it with our hearts, minds, and souls. Willing to fight to the death over the most inconsequential of subjects. Unfeeling, uncaring of the pain we caused each other, they believed we would fight them with the same tenacity. They were confident we'd provide a challenge, but they were clear in their expectation that we would lose. They weren't even a little bit prepared. Some of us, we'd been on Reddit since the beginning, or near enough as to make no difference. I'd personally accidentally missed 21 Cake Days, and was coming up on my 22nd when they arrived. Over the decades, many of us had accumulated so much more than 1000 link karma. So much more. We rose up, we became leaders. It could have been the moderators, but no one wanted to deal with how they wanted to run things - no one ever appreciated the moderators. Most of them broke off early on, formed their own tribe, fell to infighting. They few that remain, well ... you know what they are. Nearly as bad as the Sufari, enforcing their maniacal rules on all of us, in their golden masks. Modern inquisitors, ensuring everyone plays by the rules, but really just making sure everyone plays by their crazy whims. No, leadership didn't land on them. It fell to those of us with real influence. I myself had lucked out - Summer of 2017, I wrote myself a novel, pulled a major following over on /r/Fantasy. Had myself some allies on a couple D&D subreddits, some other tabletop subreddits. Built myself a modest army of tactical thinkers and wanna-be heroes, all of them looking for something to believe in, some chance to prove themselves. Had my fair share of tabletop quarterbacks, Mary Sues, assholes obsessed with traitor mechanics. Weeded them out, built a solid fighting force. Those self-destructive lunatics over at /r/WoW came for me first ... they were bad before WoW 2 dropped, they'd just gotten worse in the years since. We sent 'em packing, though. Clean, easy. They hate each other more than they'll ever hate the rest of us. So that was my tribe. But there were others. So many others. The watchers from the news subreddits, their darker counterparts from /r/PublicFreakout. The gamers, seeking greatness. The sovereign citizens, seeking their own rules ... they didn't last too long, once the moderators stopped their infighting and turned to the rest of us. The sovereigns were the first to fall, and it wasn't even to the Sufari. That's what threw the aliens off, I think - they were expecting a united front to fight them, not an eclectic collection of hundreds of tribes as willing to fight each other as we were the Sufari. But we were capable of rising up together, and that's exactly what we did. Those Browncoat heroes over on /r/Firefly - I'll love every one of them until the day I die, hand to heart - they brought us together in the first and last united battle against the Sufari. They showed us, for one glorious moment, what we could do when we worked together ... honor them, kid, when you see them. You'll never find a more dedicated bunch, and we have a lot in common. Just don't call what they did "unification." Either way, they brought us together. The Founders - those unknowing programmers who had created and grown Reddit before the Sufari came - very few of them actually survived the initial attack. Ironic, really. But those that survived, they took on one job: Keeping Reddit running, keeping us communicating. The Sufari were struggling, they couldn't wipe us out when we were so scattered, even while we were fighting each other. So the went for the Founders, in the ruins of San Francisco ... I guess you don't know that name. It's the island north of Silone Valley. That used to be a city, you know. The Sufari, they descended on the ruins, they went for our heart. And the Browncoats brought us together. For one day, we stopped killing each other and started killing the Sufari. They couldn't handle it. We fought with a tenacity you can only have from spending years refusing to be wrong. We fought with the unflinching unity you can only find in echo bubbles. We fought with the hopeful dedication of die-hard fans, of people who won't be told who or what they can or should love. We'd each of us, all of us, spent a lifetime at our keyboards, thinking we could change, save, or destroy the world based on our whims. And the Sufari? Well, the Sufari were fool enough to actually make that a reality. They weren't prepared for us to actually take them up on it. Not one of them survived. Not one escaped. No sequels here. They won't be coming back. We brought them down, we burned them to ash, and we destroyed their ships. That was thirty years ago. This is our world, and we're not leaving it, we're not giving it up. Not even to each other. We're still here, and we're still fighting. But you know that. I'm rambling on now. Curse of being an old Redditor, I guess. Maybe you'll get lucky and get to know what I mean. But first, you gotta survive the day. The enemy is at our gates. Go. Be a hero. Find something to believe in. Change the world. And, hey: Happy 16th Cake Day, kid.	My fingers cramped, my back's in pain, so many reposts I might go insane. Warm and cozy in my room, bright white light, bang, crash, boom! What the hell? My body shudders, I hobble outside with the courage I can muster. I thought we were safe in our hidden hive, but the redditors shrieked when they arrived... Short and green, hissing and crawling, I might break down and just start bawling. I thought it was over, the war was won? But the slimy green devils were all but done. I turned around, ran to my desk, Breaking news: They Found The Nest! I must escape but I don't drive, busses aren't running- at least I have reddit live. "Blocks A through C is where they seem to be," thank god I have one friend, Tony, he lives in block G. I rolled out of my chair and waddled to the street, gotta go fast or I'll be dead meat. My short stubby legs won't keep up, they shake and cramp, can't even jump. I thought I was done for but I heard a car coming, '81 Civic, its little 4 cylinder humming. Oh my god, could it be? Thank the heavens, Tony is here to save me. An alien raised its slender finger, Tony roared through but time seemed to linger. That little white car was slammed into a tree, I wet my pants and was hit by debris. The blackened sky is filled with ships, I'm dying alone, and I don't even have my chips. My eyes are heavy and I hear a chopper, then I was hit by Tony's antenna topper. A cute little guy, red and round, rolling across the cold dead ground. Why I'll be damned, it's a little Snoo, and today Snoo, I will not bid you adieu.... I grasp at life, chopper overhead, they pull me up and lay me down in a bed. Rockets fly, we're fighting back, but the aliens launched a massive attack. The aliens are chanting "All humans must die," and their laser beam evaporates our convoy of tanks. the life drains out of me, "me too thanks."
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	Chairman: "All right, the High Council is called to order. Is there any old business to discuss?" First delegate: "All of the world governments are either wiped out, or holed up in underground bunkers. We can dispense with the remainders according to the established schedule." Chairman: "How's the nuclear cleanup going?" Third delegate: "It will take a while, but fortunately, only three world leaders had the stones to launch, so most of the missiles were taken out by our counter measures." Chairman: "Very good. Any new business?" Fifth delegate: "Well, sir, we did come across a new group that may need attention..." Chairman: "Oh?" Fifth delegate: "Yes sir, it seems they stumbled onto our secure communications network..." Chairman: "Shit! Again?! This isn't going to be another 4chan, is it?" Fifth delegate: "I don't think so, sir. The 4chan were clearly trying to disrupt our communications, and as you know, wreaked havoc on our plans for several weeks." Chairman: "What's different this time?" Fifth delegate: "This intrusion seems to be entirely accidental. The human appeared to be attempting to request delivery of a large quantity of low-nutritional-value snack food." Chairman: "You said it was a group?" Second delegate: "Yes sir, a fairly large one." Chairman: "How is it that they have escaped our notice for so long?" Fifth delegate: "Well, um. They don't seem to go outside much. Sir." Chairman: "They don't go outside much? We've been here for months! Who the hell are these humans?" Second delegate: "They seem to be a very loose coalition organized around a communications channel called "Reddit". Chairman: "The small furry creature whose feet provide good fortune?" Third delegate: "No sir, that's a rabbit. I believe these are named after the diminutive, fictional creatures with hairy feet from popular entertainment." Second delegate: "That's a hobbit. This is something else. They seem to be made up of a bizarre spectrum of political, religious, social, and, er, anti-social ideologies. The main commonality seems to be a supreme confidence in their own individual opinions." Chairman: "Okay, so how do we defeat them? Targeted strikes?" Fifth delegate: "Impractical, sir. They are too geographically dispersed." Chairman: "Can we lure them out for a head to head fight?" Second delegate: "Unlikely, sir. Most don't even seem to know or believe that we're here." Chairman: "How is that possible?" Fifth delegate: "Like I said, sir, they don't go outside much. The good news is that the group used to be much larger. Significant numbers of them apparently were ordinary people who were wiped out in the first several attack waves." Chairman: "Good. But how do we root out the rest of them?" Fifth delegate: "It might be best to just wait them out, sir." Chairman: "That will take too long. With the distributed, autonomous power and food production systems the humans have developed in the last decade or so, it could take years. Some could hold out indefinitely." Third delegate (quietly): "Not if we take away their will to live." Chairman: "And how do we do that?" Third delegate (more firmly): "Turn off the porn." Several delegates at once: "No." "Too far!" "Seems extreme." (Softly, from the back of the room) "Wasn't that what we conquered this planet for?" Chairman: "All, right! All right. Settle down. We will table this matter for future discussion until the Second and Fifth delegates have studied it further and devised a plan. At this stage of the conflict, we should not need to meet as often. See you in six months." *** And so it went with the Earth's new High Council meetings. The Second and Fifth delegates to the High Council at first provided detailed reports on the resistance group known as "Redditors", but failed to devise an effective and efficient means of eliminating them. As time wore on, both the reports and proposed plans became more vacuous, until the line item on the agenda became simply a pro forma point in the ever-less-frequent meetings to pause for a delegate to say "Nothing new to report." *** And yet, some Redditors, did begin to venture outside, and once again engaged in meetups (though more secretive than they once were). They formed small communities, and carried on the species known as humans. At times, proposals were made to engage the alien invaders who had taken over the planet. But having concluded the prescribed stages of the invasion, the aliens had shut down most of their largely automated military apparatus. And their relatively small enclaves were few and far between. So the Redditor strike forces sent out to fight the aliens repeated failed to actually find any. Eventually they stopped looking and the most heated conflicts once again took place between subreddits: those favoring aggressive action against the invaders, those who favored peaceful coexistence with them, and those who categorically denied their existence. One day, perhaps, the two species will take notice of each other once again. Whether those descendants will still desire to fight each other remains to be seen. But for now, a quiet peace reigns. &nbsp; &nbsp; ^^^Just ^^^IRL, ^^^though. ^^^On ^^^Reddit ^^^half ^^^the ^^^people ^^^still ^^^hate ^^^the ^^^other ^^^half	My fingers cramped, my back's in pain, so many reposts I might go insane. Warm and cozy in my room, bright white light, bang, crash, boom! What the hell? My body shudders, I hobble outside with the courage I can muster. I thought we were safe in our hidden hive, but the redditors shrieked when they arrived... Short and green, hissing and crawling, I might break down and just start bawling. I thought it was over, the war was won? But the slimy green devils were all but done. I turned around, ran to my desk, Breaking news: They Found The Nest! I must escape but I don't drive, busses aren't running- at least I have reddit live. "Blocks A through C is where they seem to be," thank god I have one friend, Tony, he lives in block G. I rolled out of my chair and waddled to the street, gotta go fast or I'll be dead meat. My short stubby legs won't keep up, they shake and cramp, can't even jump. I thought I was done for but I heard a car coming, '81 Civic, its little 4 cylinder humming. Oh my god, could it be? Thank the heavens, Tony is here to save me. An alien raised its slender finger, Tony roared through but time seemed to linger. That little white car was slammed into a tree, I wet my pants and was hit by debris. The blackened sky is filled with ships, I'm dying alone, and I don't even have my chips. My eyes are heavy and I hear a chopper, then I was hit by Tony's antenna topper. A cute little guy, red and round, rolling across the cold dead ground. Why I'll be damned, it's a little Snoo, and today Snoo, I will not bid you adieu.... I grasp at life, chopper overhead, they pull me up and lay me down in a bed. Rockets fly, we're fighting back, but the aliens launched a massive attack. The aliens are chanting "All humans must die," and their laser beam evaporates our convoy of tanks. the life drains out of me, "me too thanks."
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	I was sitting at home,drinking Vytautas mineral water while playing EU4. Suddenly,i decide to check reddit to see that the aliens have killed most of the world. I contacted my ITV loving friend /u/CaribbeanSeaAnomaly on reddit to inform him. We found the other redditors and gathered them together in various areas,forming regiments of redditors by country and region. I was in charge of the 67th Turkish Division of Redditors so me,and the other 99 redditors wave our Snoo and Crescent flag while singing Rick Roll as an anthem. We,and the other 80 Turkish Divisions marched unto the alien base in Edirne,meeting up with the 28 Bulgarian Divisions. All of us march on and on until we reach Slovakia. There,we had formed an army of 200000. We had gotten reports of the aliens landing with their main battleship to Ireland and with another,roughly equal sized force in Lithuania. We split in two,one bound for Ireland and another for Lithuania. I was in the division that will fight the aliens in Lithuania but when we got to Bialystok,we heard that the American Redditors have attacked the aliens with dank memes and won. When we got to the Lithuanian Border, /u/Augenis,leading the Lithuanian Division reported us that the aliens have moved to Estonia. So with them and the Latvians we marched to Estonia but when we arrived at Panevezys we heard that the Memers of Spain had came in as support and defeated the aliens in Ireland. When we arrived at Tallinn,we prepared for battle. We all came from different subreddits, from /r/vexillology to r/ooer, from r/chemistry to /r/weeaboo. We faced the aliens and we fought hard with the subreddits we belonged to being a fighting tool against the aliens as well. For this time /r/pitchforkemporium came with real pitchforks as well. The members of r/Stellaris dealt with the aliens in many ways that are sometimes incomprehensible to the rest of us while r/CK2 has done some NSFW stuff. r/EU4 shouted "ULM STRONK!" For this battle only, r/FinlandConspiracy has accepted the existence of Finland. The battle was epic... All of us survived. Shortly after the battle of Tallinn ended,we got reports from other Redditors through the new /r/RedditDefenseForce subreddit that they have defeated the aliens with the sheer power of memes. 70 percent of the Poles have stolen the spaceship of the aliens after the war as reparations to board on it so from this point onward.... Poland can into space.	My fingers cramped, my back's in pain, so many reposts I might go insane. Warm and cozy in my room, bright white light, bang, crash, boom! What the hell? My body shudders, I hobble outside with the courage I can muster. I thought we were safe in our hidden hive, but the redditors shrieked when they arrived... Short and green, hissing and crawling, I might break down and just start bawling. I thought it was over, the war was won? But the slimy green devils were all but done. I turned around, ran to my desk, Breaking news: They Found The Nest! I must escape but I don't drive, busses aren't running- at least I have reddit live. "Blocks A through C is where they seem to be," thank god I have one friend, Tony, he lives in block G. I rolled out of my chair and waddled to the street, gotta go fast or I'll be dead meat. My short stubby legs won't keep up, they shake and cramp, can't even jump. I thought I was done for but I heard a car coming, '81 Civic, its little 4 cylinder humming. Oh my god, could it be? Thank the heavens, Tony is here to save me. An alien raised its slender finger, Tony roared through but time seemed to linger. That little white car was slammed into a tree, I wet my pants and was hit by debris. The blackened sky is filled with ships, I'm dying alone, and I don't even have my chips. My eyes are heavy and I hear a chopper, then I was hit by Tony's antenna topper. A cute little guy, red and round, rolling across the cold dead ground. Why I'll be damned, it's a little Snoo, and today Snoo, I will not bid you adieu.... I grasp at life, chopper overhead, they pull me up and lay me down in a bed. Rockets fly, we're fighting back, but the aliens launched a massive attack. The aliens are chanting "All humans must die," and their laser beam evaporates our convoy of tanks. the life drains out of me, "me too thanks."
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	That night started like hundreds previous other nights, as I sat perusing the front page of the internet. My eyes barely registered the posts about Trump, or the endless art threads where a lone protagonist faces a distance, menacing goliath. I was here for the good stuff. It had long become my addiction. Was I ashamed? Of course. I hid that folder in the deepest reaches of my PC. Categorized, ranked and backed up to my precious external drive which was layered in bubble wrap. I was an expert. In my head. Hours spent looking at pictures, pouring over videos and gifs. Studying movement and behaviour. Commenting on how cute they were, what I'd do to them if they were mine. My imagination often went wild, but I wanted to experience the mundane as well. Walks on the beach, spooning each other as we nap in the sun, sitting down to watch TV after a long day. Then it happened. Quickly. Reddit barely had time to argue about it before all communication was terminated. I sat at my PC, wondering what was next. Was it even worth wondering? I clutched my external drive tight. It was my desert island movie. Forget the Swiss army knife or blanket. The cities were hit hard. I decided to make a break for the country. Maybe buy myself some time. I packed some essentials, made sure my laptop was charged, wrapped the drive in an extra layer of bubble wrap and ran. It seemed like days. Ships were hovering in every direction I looked. They were raining down destruction with impunity. Fireballs rose from the city, and screams bounced off the hills I was staggering across. I could feel them closing in. I took shelter in an old barn and turned on my laptop. One last time before the end I thought, as I plugged in the external drive. I clicked the dozen or two times necessary to find the folder and I went crazy. Multiple videos at once, slideshows of the pictures and manually clicking through gifs. My only regret if it ended here, would be that I never experienced this in real life. I wept at the tragedy of it all. The barn doors slammed open and there stood two immense and grotesque creatures, their three fingered hands glowing as if the energy they emitted was barely contained. Their multiple irises darting back and forth made them look almost perplexed as they came upon my shameful scene. As a habit, I covered the screen with my hands. "Huu-maaan" the first one droned out. "Whot....yooo.....hiiid.....ing?" The last syllable dropping out of his mouth like a rock into a deep pool. "N...n..nothing!" I stammered as I went to close the lid. The second made a tremendous noise, guttural and high pitched at the same time. Instinctively I knew it meant 'stop.' I froze. They walked over with amazing grace for such enormous beings. I hung my head in shame. My last moments on earth would be a story for these aliens and their buddies. They would laugh at my disgrace and exaggerate my patheticness. Not exactly how I pictured my legacy. "Whot....isss......this...?" This time it hissed out of its mouth. I rose my head and stared into its round toothless maw. I steeled myself . I had nothing to be ashamed of, and if I was going to die, I would die like the man I yearned to be. "I...I downloaded these from the internet, a global information hub." He pointed at a picture. "Doo...yoo...all...have..?" The energy from his finger seemed to distort the picture so he pulled it away. "Some of us...some of us have these." I pointed to a different picture. His pupils expanded as he examined the screen. "Why....huuu.....man?" His speech becoming more clear with every sentence. "Well...for some it's a necessity, others it's just for fun. It's rewarding in many ways." "You...look...after...these?" It seemed genuinely curious. "They look after us too." I replied proudly. I wouldn't die in shame. They arched their heads toward each other and the energy seemed to dissipate from their hands. "Humans not all that bad." His speech nearly perfect now, as they turned around and seemed to glide out the door. I watched as their ships and hundreds of others shrank into stars in the night. Relieved beyond belief, I sat back at the laptop and digested what had just occurred. I laughed quietly to myself and promised never to be ashamed again. Even the aliens thought it was totally natural. I decided it was time to go. Moving the cursor over to the x, I closed the folder labelled r/aww and closed the laptop. "I'm getting a cat."	My fingers cramped, my back's in pain, so many reposts I might go insane. Warm and cozy in my room, bright white light, bang, crash, boom! What the hell? My body shudders, I hobble outside with the courage I can muster. I thought we were safe in our hidden hive, but the redditors shrieked when they arrived... Short and green, hissing and crawling, I might break down and just start bawling. I thought it was over, the war was won? But the slimy green devils were all but done. I turned around, ran to my desk, Breaking news: They Found The Nest! I must escape but I don't drive, busses aren't running- at least I have reddit live. "Blocks A through C is where they seem to be," thank god I have one friend, Tony, he lives in block G. I rolled out of my chair and waddled to the street, gotta go fast or I'll be dead meat. My short stubby legs won't keep up, they shake and cramp, can't even jump. I thought I was done for but I heard a car coming, '81 Civic, its little 4 cylinder humming. Oh my god, could it be? Thank the heavens, Tony is here to save me. An alien raised its slender finger, Tony roared through but time seemed to linger. That little white car was slammed into a tree, I wet my pants and was hit by debris. The blackened sky is filled with ships, I'm dying alone, and I don't even have my chips. My eyes are heavy and I hear a chopper, then I was hit by Tony's antenna topper. A cute little guy, red and round, rolling across the cold dead ground. Why I'll be damned, it's a little Snoo, and today Snoo, I will not bid you adieu.... I grasp at life, chopper overhead, they pull me up and lay me down in a bed. Rockets fly, we're fighting back, but the aliens launched a massive attack. The aliens are chanting "All humans must die," and their laser beam evaporates our convoy of tanks. the life drains out of me, "me too thanks."
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	That night started like hundreds previous other nights, as I sat perusing the front page of the internet. My eyes barely registered the posts about Trump, or the endless art threads where a lone protagonist faces a distance, menacing goliath. I was here for the good stuff. It had long become my addiction. Was I ashamed? Of course. I hid that folder in the deepest reaches of my PC. Categorized, ranked and backed up to my precious external drive which was layered in bubble wrap. I was an expert. In my head. Hours spent looking at pictures, pouring over videos and gifs. Studying movement and behaviour. Commenting on how cute they were, what I'd do to them if they were mine. My imagination often went wild, but I wanted to experience the mundane as well. Walks on the beach, spooning each other as we nap in the sun, sitting down to watch TV after a long day. Then it happened. Quickly. Reddit barely had time to argue about it before all communication was terminated. I sat at my PC, wondering what was next. Was it even worth wondering? I clutched my external drive tight. It was my desert island movie. Forget the Swiss army knife or blanket. The cities were hit hard. I decided to make a break for the country. Maybe buy myself some time. I packed some essentials, made sure my laptop was charged, wrapped the drive in an extra layer of bubble wrap and ran. It seemed like days. Ships were hovering in every direction I looked. They were raining down destruction with impunity. Fireballs rose from the city, and screams bounced off the hills I was staggering across. I could feel them closing in. I took shelter in an old barn and turned on my laptop. One last time before the end I thought, as I plugged in the external drive. I clicked the dozen or two times necessary to find the folder and I went crazy. Multiple videos at once, slideshows of the pictures and manually clicking through gifs. My only regret if it ended here, would be that I never experienced this in real life. I wept at the tragedy of it all. The barn doors slammed open and there stood two immense and grotesque creatures, their three fingered hands glowing as if the energy they emitted was barely contained. Their multiple irises darting back and forth made them look almost perplexed as they came upon my shameful scene. As a habit, I covered the screen with my hands. "Huu-maaan" the first one droned out. "Whot....yooo.....hiiid.....ing?" The last syllable dropping out of his mouth like a rock into a deep pool. "N...n..nothing!" I stammered as I went to close the lid. The second made a tremendous noise, guttural and high pitched at the same time. Instinctively I knew it meant 'stop.' I froze. They walked over with amazing grace for such enormous beings. I hung my head in shame. My last moments on earth would be a story for these aliens and their buddies. They would laugh at my disgrace and exaggerate my patheticness. Not exactly how I pictured my legacy. "Whot....isss......this...?" This time it hissed out of its mouth. I rose my head and stared into its round toothless maw. I steeled myself . I had nothing to be ashamed of, and if I was going to die, I would die like the man I yearned to be. "I...I downloaded these from the internet, a global information hub." He pointed at a picture. "Doo...yoo...all...have..?" The energy from his finger seemed to distort the picture so he pulled it away. "Some of us...some of us have these." I pointed to a different picture. His pupils expanded as he examined the screen. "Why....huuu.....man?" His speech becoming more clear with every sentence. "Well...for some it's a necessity, others it's just for fun. It's rewarding in many ways." "You...look...after...these?" It seemed genuinely curious. "They look after us too." I replied proudly. I wouldn't die in shame. They arched their heads toward each other and the energy seemed to dissipate from their hands. "Humans not all that bad." His speech nearly perfect now, as they turned around and seemed to glide out the door. I watched as their ships and hundreds of others shrank into stars in the night. Relieved beyond belief, I sat back at the laptop and digested what had just occurred. I laughed quietly to myself and promised never to be ashamed again. Even the aliens thought it was totally natural. I decided it was time to go. Moving the cursor over to the x, I closed the folder labelled r/aww and closed the laptop. "I'm getting a cat."	Chairman: "All right, the High Council is called to order. Is there any old business to discuss?" First delegate: "All of the world governments are either wiped out, or holed up in underground bunkers. We can dispense with the remainders according to the established schedule." Chairman: "How's the nuclear cleanup going?" Third delegate: "It will take a while, but fortunately, only three world leaders had the stones to launch, so most of the missiles were taken out by our counter measures." Chairman: "Very good. Any new business?" Fifth delegate: "Well, sir, we did come across a new group that may need attention..." Chairman: "Oh?" Fifth delegate: "Yes sir, it seems they stumbled onto our secure communications network..." Chairman: "Shit! Again?! This isn't going to be another 4chan, is it?" Fifth delegate: "I don't think so, sir. The 4chan were clearly trying to disrupt our communications, and as you know, wreaked havoc on our plans for several weeks." Chairman: "What's different this time?" Fifth delegate: "This intrusion seems to be entirely accidental. The human appeared to be attempting to request delivery of a large quantity of low-nutritional-value snack food." Chairman: "You said it was a group?" Second delegate: "Yes sir, a fairly large one." Chairman: "How is it that they have escaped our notice for so long?" Fifth delegate: "Well, um. They don't seem to go outside much. Sir." Chairman: "They don't go outside much? We've been here for months! Who the hell are these humans?" Second delegate: "They seem to be a very loose coalition organized around a communications channel called "Reddit". Chairman: "The small furry creature whose feet provide good fortune?" Third delegate: "No sir, that's a rabbit. I believe these are named after the diminutive, fictional creatures with hairy feet from popular entertainment." Second delegate: "That's a hobbit. This is something else. They seem to be made up of a bizarre spectrum of political, religious, social, and, er, anti-social ideologies. The main commonality seems to be a supreme confidence in their own individual opinions." Chairman: "Okay, so how do we defeat them? Targeted strikes?" Fifth delegate: "Impractical, sir. They are too geographically dispersed." Chairman: "Can we lure them out for a head to head fight?" Second delegate: "Unlikely, sir. Most don't even seem to know or believe that we're here." Chairman: "How is that possible?" Fifth delegate: "Like I said, sir, they don't go outside much. The good news is that the group used to be much larger. Significant numbers of them apparently were ordinary people who were wiped out in the first several attack waves." Chairman: "Good. But how do we root out the rest of them?" Fifth delegate: "It might be best to just wait them out, sir." Chairman: "That will take too long. With the distributed, autonomous power and food production systems the humans have developed in the last decade or so, it could take years. Some could hold out indefinitely." Third delegate (quietly): "Not if we take away their will to live." Chairman: "And how do we do that?" Third delegate (more firmly): "Turn off the porn." Several delegates at once: "No." "Too far!" "Seems extreme." (Softly, from the back of the room) "Wasn't that what we conquered this planet for?" Chairman: "All, right! All right. Settle down. We will table this matter for future discussion until the Second and Fifth delegates have studied it further and devised a plan. At this stage of the conflict, we should not need to meet as often. See you in six months." *** And so it went with the Earth's new High Council meetings. The Second and Fifth delegates to the High Council at first provided detailed reports on the resistance group known as "Redditors", but failed to devise an effective and efficient means of eliminating them. As time wore on, both the reports and proposed plans became more vacuous, until the line item on the agenda became simply a pro forma point in the ever-less-frequent meetings to pause for a delegate to say "Nothing new to report." *** And yet, some Redditors, did begin to venture outside, and once again engaged in meetups (though more secretive than they once were). They formed small communities, and carried on the species known as humans. At times, proposals were made to engage the alien invaders who had taken over the planet. But having concluded the prescribed stages of the invasion, the aliens had shut down most of their largely automated military apparatus. And their relatively small enclaves were few and far between. So the Redditor strike forces sent out to fight the aliens repeated failed to actually find any. Eventually they stopped looking and the most heated conflicts once again took place between subreddits: those favoring aggressive action against the invaders, those who favored peaceful coexistence with them, and those who categorically denied their existence. One day, perhaps, the two species will take notice of each other once again. Whether those descendants will still desire to fight each other remains to be seen. But for now, a quiet peace reigns. &nbsp; &nbsp; ^^^Just ^^^IRL, ^^^though. ^^^On ^^^Reddit ^^^half ^^^the ^^^people ^^^still ^^^hate ^^^the ^^^other ^^^half
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	The aliens thought they had destroyed us all. They thought our planet was their's for the taking. But this is our planet. And we were not going down without a fight. The first step was to organize. We decided to continue using reddit.com as our main communications channel, as something about the site seemed to ward off the aliens. After all, we were the only ones to survive the chemicals. We knew these aliens were far more advanced than us technologically. Fortunately, someone managed to get their hands on a device. Of course, after seeing one person do it, the reposters had to get their hands on some too. Next, we mailed the devices to members of /r/hacking and /r/programming to see if they could figure out how they worked. After much collaboration, the top heads at /r/hacking said they could hack into the alien's ships, at least for a few minutes before the aliens figured out what was going on. After that the mods put out a site-wide survey to see what we should do when we hack them. The winner: troll the fuck out of 'em. "Gloxorth? What's going on?" Bletsnu asked. "I don't know! These messages just keep flashing through the ship! We don't know where they're coming from!" "Have you tried contacting the other ships?" "Yeah but whenever I pick up the communicator I just hear someone saying something in that weird Earth tongue of theirs. Hey, you're fluent in Earth tongues, right? Can you try to translate it?" Bletsnu walked over and picked up the communicator. She immediately recognized the message. "You underestimate my power!" Bletsnu put down the communicator and muttered "prequel memes is leaking again." "What?" said Gloxorth. Suddenly, a hole appeared in Gloxorth's scaly chest. He looked at Bletsnu, dumbfounded, then his eyes moved to the blaster in her hand. Just before he died, Bletsnu whispered in his ear, "For Earth." With that, she looked up at the ship's screen in satisfaction. The image of snoo was clearly displayed for all to see, and Bletsnu was sure it was also displayed across the other ships as well. Beneath it read the words, "Welcome to the front page of the internet. Welcome to Hell."	The day of the snoo was upon us, after years of us mocking of their race they decided now was the time to strike. Their first move was to take out the pretenders at /r/totallynotaliens. The snoo struck them down with their mighty Internet bending powers, killing all of those who clicked on /r/totallynoyaliens. The snoo moved to systematically took out every single Reddit page, they spared no one. They tried to kill /u/spez and /u/Mattophobia, but it turned out they were both emotionless robots. After a week of absolute slaughter the snoo's had reclaimed Reddit as their own. Classes would use the site to teach young snoos of the evils of humans.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	They had arrived. The world's nations fell quickly. The communist countries, the Middle East and Russia put up a good fight now that I think about it. And Putin riding a bear into battle while duel-wielding AKs and fueling his rampage with vodka was the most stereotypically Russian thing I had ever seen. Also, it was fucking hilarious. The democratic countries however were still discussing how to deal with the invasion when the aliens entered the conference room, and exterminated them like they were wasps. Can you believe they thought the aliens would negotiate!? Eventually us redditors were the only ones left. That was when the declaration was signed. All subreddits put aside their differences and formed the most effective military the world would ever see. r/MURICA supplied weapons, and ho boy, did they have a lot of firepower. The 100% FLESHY HUMANS of r/totallynotrobots were like tanks on the battlefield. The soldiers from the battlefield subreddits were brilliant fighters and tacticians, and the CoD players were effective guerrilla units, thanks to their endless hours of training spent camping. The pilots of r/titanfall actually built actual titans (I immediately went with a tone) and crushed many an alien with their MLG parkour skills and falling titans. The food-based subreddits like r/pizza kept the soldiers fed, and r/memes was a brilliant source of morale. However, the best fighters were the lads of r/Inglin, who were angry that her majesty had been shot (she managed to survive, the woman is practically immortal I tell you). You could hear them singing God save the Queen as loud as they could while mowing down the aliens with spitfires, lancasters and patriotism even the Americans couldn't beat. (When the war ended, the British empire was restored, with some minor changes in that they gave up the colonies in Asia for America.) The 100% bipedal humans of r/totallynotaliens reversed their role, and became spies. The men and women of r/DIY were invaluable, as they repaired and rebuilt ruined military installations. The aliens, despite their superweapons were no match for the missile-laden cyclopses provided by r/subnautica, which were like the wolfpacks of the second world war. All in all, the aliens were beaten, even though their weaponry was over a century away from ours. They had been defeated by a collection of amateur and professional chefs, some guys in sheds, gamers, Dat Boi and radial thirds. We knew they would be back, and that next time they wouldn't fuck around. But neither would we. That wasn't even our final form. Next time, we would have r/Xcom. EDIT: spelling and added spaces between paragraphs.	The day of the snoo was upon us, after years of us mocking of their race they decided now was the time to strike. Their first move was to take out the pretenders at /r/totallynotaliens. The snoo struck them down with their mighty Internet bending powers, killing all of those who clicked on /r/totallynoyaliens. The snoo moved to systematically took out every single Reddit page, they spared no one. They tried to kill /u/spez and /u/Mattophobia, but it turned out they were both emotionless robots. After a week of absolute slaughter the snoo's had reclaimed Reddit as their own. Classes would use the site to teach young snoos of the evils of humans.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	Just one more post, then I'll head to bed. So many purple links. The only blue links are from r/TIL, but seriously, who actually opens those?" I take a sip of my coffee, struggling to work up the motivation to walk 10 feet to my bed. Perhaps, I'll browse r/new for a bit. I mean someone has to do it, right? Maybe I'll get a top comment this time. Scrolling down, I nearly missed it. "Aliens Invade! Redditors Unite!" PFFFT! Just some karma whore, I'm sure of it. A quick look at the comment history and I see 3,423 post karma, but no 1 year trophy. Alright, u/Lightly_Saltedd, What do you have to say? Aliens have invaded all of the world's capitals and are demanding information. At the time of this post no one had yet found out what they wanted. I refresh the page and see that the article has been updated. Aliens have begun slaughtering people they find useless to their cause. All of the world leaders and their families are dead, and they've moved on to entire populations, save for some. Nobody understands why. Maybe they were lucky. Maybe they planned ahead. Maybe they know something everyone else didn't. Either way, one thing is certain: it wasn't by accident. Stunned, I rush to the window. Outside it's eerie and quiet. Cars are empty, the streets are abandoned, and there are clothes all over the place. I'm still here, but why? I have to find answers. I head back to my computer and refresh the page. Hundreds of new posts have popped up, all reporting on the story, but one in particular catches my eye. "We are responsible for the decimation of your species. If you are reading this, you've been left alive for a reason. AUA." My hands are shaking so violently I can barely type, but I must get the question out. "Why have you left us alive?" Because within this userbase is the answer to our question. What do you want to know? What's inside the safe?	The day of the snoo was upon us, after years of us mocking of their race they decided now was the time to strike. Their first move was to take out the pretenders at /r/totallynotaliens. The snoo struck them down with their mighty Internet bending powers, killing all of those who clicked on /r/totallynoyaliens. The snoo moved to systematically took out every single Reddit page, they spared no one. They tried to kill /u/spez and /u/Mattophobia, but it turned out they were both emotionless robots. After a week of absolute slaughter the snoo's had reclaimed Reddit as their own. Classes would use the site to teach young snoos of the evils of humans.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	They started with our leaders.... and one by one they fell. As each new person rose to lead the resistance they were quickly identified and dispatched with those around them collateral damage. But one group defied the odds. One groups unique structure confused and defeated the aliens systems of classification. We are Redditors. Was it our quick wit and cunning? Our ability to adapt or the speed at which we share information? No. They just can't identify our leaders. "Where is their god-like leader Dick-butt? Who is this Karl and his army of ducks? Why can't we find their great beasts the Snek, Doge, and Floof?"	I saw scores of men fall in the surge... To xenomorphs and doggo-aliens that had merged. I saw the tides of battle wane I saw our leaders, galore, fall into the hands of their leader I saw our efforts go in vane I saw them treat us like a mobile feeder We danced and screamed like a chew toy Until the only one on the streets was a punk boy Crying out to fight, these hellistic demons galore And when his voice was still We all gathered and bore A similar mark til' The end of time we shared This mark of which we bared It's called being "redditors" we certainly aren't "predators" But by God we'd win the fight and we would make them run into that dark starry night With our mind guns Larry was a furry And Jane was a writer Maxim's job was blurry but we think he was a keyboard fighter James was a bonds man And Carlos had /nosleep Mishka was a Russian fan Ron liked going shoulder deep Somehow this band of brothers and girl Would stop a fight that spanned from galaxies to Belgium and Jane could hurl a grenade into an engine using her trebuchet. Boom went the ship Floating down from space Janes hand went to her hip and said "There goes a race" Maxim sat there laughing And Carlos said with glee "I'm going to go on slashing up a story about...me!" Mishka fought a bear, And james just said goodbye "With a head of hair, I bet that I can lie. The name is bond," he said, and off he went We weren't too fond, of that man and how he spent His time, his money, hell, his life. But then came Larry, and James wasn't actually that bad anymore.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	Just one more post, then I'll head to bed. So many purple links. The only blue links are from r/TIL, but seriously, who actually opens those?" I take a sip of my coffee, struggling to work up the motivation to walk 10 feet to my bed. Perhaps, I'll browse r/new for a bit. I mean someone has to do it, right? Maybe I'll get a top comment this time. Scrolling down, I nearly missed it. "Aliens Invade! Redditors Unite!" PFFFT! Just some karma whore, I'm sure of it. A quick look at the comment history and I see 3,423 post karma, but no 1 year trophy. Alright, u/Lightly_Saltedd, What do you have to say? Aliens have invaded all of the world's capitals and are demanding information. At the time of this post no one had yet found out what they wanted. I refresh the page and see that the article has been updated. Aliens have begun slaughtering people they find useless to their cause. All of the world leaders and their families are dead, and they've moved on to entire populations, save for some. Nobody understands why. Maybe they were lucky. Maybe they planned ahead. Maybe they know something everyone else didn't. Either way, one thing is certain: it wasn't by accident. Stunned, I rush to the window. Outside it's eerie and quiet. Cars are empty, the streets are abandoned, and there are clothes all over the place. I'm still here, but why? I have to find answers. I head back to my computer and refresh the page. Hundreds of new posts have popped up, all reporting on the story, but one in particular catches my eye. "We are responsible for the decimation of your species. If you are reading this, you've been left alive for a reason. AUA." My hands are shaking so violently I can barely type, but I must get the question out. "Why have you left us alive?" Because within this userbase is the answer to our question. What do you want to know? What's inside the safe?	I saw scores of men fall in the surge... To xenomorphs and doggo-aliens that had merged. I saw the tides of battle wane I saw our leaders, galore, fall into the hands of their leader I saw our efforts go in vane I saw them treat us like a mobile feeder We danced and screamed like a chew toy Until the only one on the streets was a punk boy Crying out to fight, these hellistic demons galore And when his voice was still We all gathered and bore A similar mark til' The end of time we shared This mark of which we bared It's called being "redditors" we certainly aren't "predators" But by God we'd win the fight and we would make them run into that dark starry night With our mind guns Larry was a furry And Jane was a writer Maxim's job was blurry but we think he was a keyboard fighter James was a bonds man And Carlos had /nosleep Mishka was a Russian fan Ron liked going shoulder deep Somehow this band of brothers and girl Would stop a fight that spanned from galaxies to Belgium and Jane could hurl a grenade into an engine using her trebuchet. Boom went the ship Floating down from space Janes hand went to her hip and said "There goes a race" Maxim sat there laughing And Carlos said with glee "I'm going to go on slashing up a story about...me!" Mishka fought a bear, And james just said goodbye "With a head of hair, I bet that I can lie. The name is bond," he said, and off he went We weren't too fond, of that man and how he spent His time, his money, hell, his life. But then came Larry, and James wasn't actually that bad anymore.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	The chips taste stale, dissolving to a salty potato dust in my mouth. The twinkies are hard, their soft spongieness having ossified weeks ago. The Code Red Mountain Dew still tastes pretty good, but it's a bit flat, and I'm down to my last 12 pack. Honestly, I didn't even realize that the alien invasion was happening until about four months in. Don't get me wrong, I was one of the first to hear about it, but I saw it on r/conspiracy and just assumed that it was another tin foil hat conspiracy. Go figure, they were the first to report on it, and damn it they were right. The UFO's were real after all. Being rather shall we say rotund, and living by myself in my mom's old house, I didn't have much reason to go and join the militias or wars or anything like that. I just stayed holed up in my tiny little suburban brick house and continued to play video games and drink mountain dew. Thank god I made a huge Costco run just the night before. Anyways, the gun fire has died out, the TV is nothing but static, and I'm running out of food. My neck beard needs some trimming as well, but my Tesla solar panels can only provide so much juice. Guess I could do it by hand with some scissors. Am I the last one left? Maybe. I power up computer, pull up Firefox and head to reddit. Miraculously, the Internet still works, and thank God, I'd probably join the rest of humanity if it didn't. Ain't too many fresh posts. I head to r/askreddit, finally having enough courage to submit a question. "Hey Reddit, anyone else out there?" Click submit. Wait. The minutes go by. I get an upvote! Amazing, a sign of life. A bit later and someone else leaves a comment! We get to talking, for long minutes. There are dozens of us, scattered around the world. Most people are in the same situation as me. Stocked up with food, just laying low. One guy says everyone was captured and sold into slavery, shipped to mines across the Great Galactic Empire. But they left us behind. Because we were so well hidden? Perhaps. Most likely, because we're all so fat and out of shape. u/Lightly_Saltedd claims she's a girl, but who knows. Everyone is always lying on these things. But hey, maybe we can repopulate the earth. Not me, of course, I'm a virgin and wouldn't know what to do. But somebody else. Who knew. It wasn't the meek who inherited the earth. It was the neckbeards.	I saw scores of men fall in the surge... To xenomorphs and doggo-aliens that had merged. I saw the tides of battle wane I saw our leaders, galore, fall into the hands of their leader I saw our efforts go in vane I saw them treat us like a mobile feeder We danced and screamed like a chew toy Until the only one on the streets was a punk boy Crying out to fight, these hellistic demons galore And when his voice was still We all gathered and bore A similar mark til' The end of time we shared This mark of which we bared It's called being "redditors" we certainly aren't "predators" But by God we'd win the fight and we would make them run into that dark starry night With our mind guns Larry was a furry And Jane was a writer Maxim's job was blurry but we think he was a keyboard fighter James was a bonds man And Carlos had /nosleep Mishka was a Russian fan Ron liked going shoulder deep Somehow this band of brothers and girl Would stop a fight that spanned from galaxies to Belgium and Jane could hurl a grenade into an engine using her trebuchet. Boom went the ship Floating down from space Janes hand went to her hip and said "There goes a race" Maxim sat there laughing And Carlos said with glee "I'm going to go on slashing up a story about...me!" Mishka fought a bear, And james just said goodbye "With a head of hair, I bet that I can lie. The name is bond," he said, and off he went We weren't too fond, of that man and how he spent His time, his money, hell, his life. But then came Larry, and James wasn't actually that bad anymore.
	[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors	Just one more post, then I'll head to bed. So many purple links. The only blue links are from r/TIL, but seriously, who actually opens those?" I take a sip of my coffee, struggling to work up the motivation to walk 10 feet to my bed. Perhaps, I'll browse r/new for a bit. I mean someone has to do it, right? Maybe I'll get a top comment this time. Scrolling down, I nearly missed it. "Aliens Invade! Redditors Unite!" PFFFT! Just some karma whore, I'm sure of it. A quick look at the comment history and I see 3,423 post karma, but no 1 year trophy. Alright, u/Lightly_Saltedd, What do you have to say? Aliens have invaded all of the world's capitals and are demanding information. At the time of this post no one had yet found out what they wanted. I refresh the page and see that the article has been updated. Aliens have begun slaughtering people they find useless to their cause. All of the world leaders and their families are dead, and they've moved on to entire populations, save for some. Nobody understands why. Maybe they were lucky. Maybe they planned ahead. Maybe they know something everyone else didn't. Either way, one thing is certain: it wasn't by accident. Stunned, I rush to the window. Outside it's eerie and quiet. Cars are empty, the streets are abandoned, and there are clothes all over the place. I'm still here, but why? I have to find answers. I head back to my computer and refresh the page. Hundreds of new posts have popped up, all reporting on the story, but one in particular catches my eye. "We are responsible for the decimation of your species. If you are reading this, you've been left alive for a reason. AUA." My hands are shaking so violently I can barely type, but I must get the question out. "Why have you left us alive?" Because within this userbase is the answer to our question. What do you want to know? What's inside the safe?	They started with our leaders.... and one by one they fell. As each new person rose to lead the resistance they were quickly identified and dispatched with those around them collateral damage. But one group defied the odds. One groups unique structure confused and defeated the aliens systems of classification. We are Redditors. Was it our quick wit and cunning? Our ability to adapt or the speed at which we share information? No. They just can't identify our leaders. "Where is their god-like leader Dick-butt? Who is this Karl and his army of ducks? Why can't we find their great beasts the Snek, Doge, and Floof?"
	[WP]For 18 years you've lived in a small cabin in the mountains. Just you, your dog, and nature. It's been 10 years since you have talked to another human. Then one day a young woman shows up on your front porch and says she needs you help.	I breathed in the cold air. The air filled my lungs, the crispness invigorating me. More importantly, it heralded the start of winter. I stood up for a second, easing my aching back. Skinning a deer was hard work, but I was done. The meat and leather would serve me well in the coming months. Winter in the mountains could be brutally tough. I reached down to pet Duke. He was my wonderful dog. I had him when he was a puppy, and I wasn’t much bigger. He was a big golden retriever, and truth be told I was worried about him. I did not know the life expectancy of dogs, but I knew he was getting old. The thought of my only companion dying worried me. As I hauled the deer to the drying racks, I spent a moment to thank my father’s spirit at his grave. I had buried him nigh on 10 years ago, when I was all of 9. I thanked him for the gift of learning and life. Being one of the last humans alive sucked, though. There were times that I questioned his gift. When I was 8, a plague broke out. Dad had taken me and fled to the mountains. I hadn’t seen another person alive in close to ten years. Dad said there were probably survivors, somewhere, but the world he grew up in was dead. I had once seen a plane fly overheard, the summer after dad died, but since then, I had not heard anything about another human being alive. Before he died, he taught me how to live off the land. How to fend for myself. How to trap and hunt. He told me how to tame a wolf, and mate him to Duke. I hadn’t been successful with that yet. Though to be honest, I was scared to try. My night went on and I curled up on the floor of the tiny cabin with duke, next to the fire. I looked at my shelf of well-worn books. I decided to read one of my lesser favorites to him “Stuart Little.” I knew there was nothing there, but he always seemed to be more attentive to that book than my favorite of Peter Pan. I read for a while and then curled up and fell asleep crying in to duke’s fur. I woke as usual to the light of dawn seeping through the shutters over the windows. Duke was whining and licking my face. I stood up and put on my leathers. I looked fondly at my dad’s luggage and dreamed of when I could put on real clothing again. Even now, I still looked like a little kid playing dress up. Sometimes I wore the clothing anyway, to remember him. I took duke outside, and the cold air slapped me in my face. I walked over to my usual piss tree while Duke sniffed around and found a spot. I went to check on my drying rack at the meat and leather. As I was walking, Duke started barking his head off. I ran and grabbed the gun from inside the cabin door. On the other side of the clearing, a big animal came trotting out of the woods, a Horse maybe? Some of the names escaped me. On its back, sat a girl. Brown haired and approximately my age. She wore real clothing, and had a gun on her belt. She looked around the clearing and at my direction. “What the fuck?” she said. “Whatever. I need help. Please! My dad is hurt.” It was the first words I had heard another person speak in nearly a decade. I started to cry, knowing I at last wasn’t alone. “Holy Fuck Man. GET IT TOGETHER. I need your help. My dad is dying. Please Help.” I stood there, dumb as a rock, and stared at the girl. She looked at me, and then yanked the rope things in her hand. The horse, that’s what it must be, turned around and started to walk away. “WAIT!” I yelled. “Sorry, I’ll help, Of course I’ll help.” I chased after the girl, who slowed down her horse, and duke chased through the woods at my side. I followed her for a space of time. She slowed down and I saw an older man leaning against a tree. Smaller than I remembered my father being, but maybe I had grown. He was bleeding from his leg, but it wasn’t spurting, so none of the important things were damaged. His eyes were open and he was breathing. The girl gave a squeal that sounded happy. “Oh thank god, you’re ok!! “Fine, I’m Fine. Well not fine. I shot myself, but I’ll live. If you have some gauze in your pack, and bandaging, I think I’ll be ok.” He turned and looked at me. “What’s your name son?” I had to think about that for a moment. It had been a long time since I had used my name. Dad always called me ‘buddy,’ or ‘kiddo’ or something of the sort. “Steven” I said. “Well Steven, I’m John, and if she hasn’t introduced herself, this is Sarah. Do you have a place? Can we join you for a spell?” “Ok, I guess.” He managed to get on the horse with some help and we walked in silence back to my cabin. Once there, I built up the fire, and put on some of the meat to cook. “Ok, son. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your story?” I took a moment to gather my thoughts. “Well, at the start of the plague, dad took me and we hid in the mountains. He claimed the world was destroyed, and that there was nothing left. I’ve been living here ever since. I thought I was the last human alive.” The two of them looked at each other. “What plague?”	Tom placed each foot in front of the other. He counted to himself each step from the door to the bed where he had placed his disheveled guest. It was always five steps. The titanium plate filled with yellow scrambled eggs and crispy bacon clacked with a light ting on the pine nightstand next to the bed, that was now becoming too large for Tom in the recent years. He counted his measurements by the bedroom door frame every morning for the past ten years. Tom was now closing in on five feet eleven inches. He placed the fork, knife, and spoon in a perfect line on the napkin next to her breakfast. As he set down the place setting a dog’s black face peered around the door and let out a low growl. “Ulysses, shhh!” Tom said with a hand out to calm his German Shepherd down. Ulysses put his ears back and sat by Tom’s bedroom door. The woman on his bed was like nothing he had seen before, because he had never seen another living person of the opposite sex. His imagination only described so much. It was nothing like he expected either. Her hair was not thick or long it was short, thin, and an unnatural scarlet red. Nine obsidian metal rings were pierced through her ears, five on the left and four on the right. Tom had to force himself to turn away and not pull out one on the left to fix the problem of her obvious mistake. Her hands were wrapped up in fresh cloth bandages and a white patch was taped up to cover her right eye, that was a dark purple color when Tom found her passed out on his porch. She wore dark tattered jeans and a black sweater that read ‘Idaho State University’ in orange letters. Tom watched her as he stepped out of the room. Five steps. He grabbed his black 7 mm rifle and sheathed Dozier knife from the gun rack by the door. Ulysses’ yellowish-brown eyes watched Tom as the door closed. He turned the knob three times and placed a pad lock on the door, which he also unlocked and locked three times. “What?” Tom said. Ulysses uttered a low growl toward the door. “Hey! Keep quiet or I am sending you outside. Go eat your breakfast.” Ulysses sneezes. Tom grabbed a chair from the kitchen, only ten steps from his bedroom door and placed it by the fire place which was about out. He rekindled it with aligning some of the wood he chopped from the day before until formed a perfect tipi. The cinders would catch quick when he added the predetermined amount of kindling. Tom turned his chair toward the door. He sets his rifle on the dark wood floor to his right and away from the stone fireplace; he also puts his knife in his ankle sheathe. After a few minutes Tom opens his copy of Lonesome Dove the cover had fallen off years ago in a fishing incident, he lost the fish. Three hours go by and Tom is engrossed in his book when Ulysses perked up turning his head toward the bedroom door. A light soft groan was heard from inside. Tom, rifle in hand and book on the floor, jumps up. “Ulysses, stay.” Tom said as he approached the door. “Hello?” She said. Her voice was rough and she let out a cough. “Hello? Can you please help me?” Tom frozen by the sound of another voice could not say a thing no matter how hard he tried. “Please! I need to help my friend he is in-“ She was interrupted by a coughing fit. “- he is in trouble!” Tom approaches within a foot of the door one step at a time. The door shakes as she tries to open it. “Please! Help me! He needs me!” She pounds on the door. “Why do you have nine earrings?” Tom said. She stops pounding. After a very long moment. “What?” The female voice said. “Your black metal rings in, I mean, on the side of your ears. What happened to the tenth one?” Tom said. “Are you fucking kidding?! Umm- I need to find my friend. Can you help me?! I am sorry if I seemed perturbed, but he could be dea-“ “It just does not add up.” “What doesn’t?” “Your ears it should fit. It should fit evenly. Ten is even.” “Are you psycho? Listen, I will tell you all about my earrings if you just help me find my friend!” Her voice begins to trail off into an unintelligible mess. Tom stands and listens. He looks at Ulysses behind him he is still sitting down. “Did I do that? I should have asked her name first, huh?” Tom said. Ulysses turns his head sideways. She continues to cry. Tom reaches for the door. “My name is Tom and this Ulysses. What is your name?” “Fuck you!” She said. “No, that is really my name.” “Are you retarded or something?” Tom looks at Ulysses again and shrugs. “To be honest. I am not sure.” Tom said. After a long silence. “Can you let me out? I need to go help my friend.” “Okay.” Tom begins to open the door. He locks and unlocks the padlock three times, then turns the door knob three times, and then opens and closes the door three times. She is standing right beyond the door wrapped up in Tom’s flannel blanket. She is about chest height for Tom. Her pale green eye is blood shot, though it compliments her porcelain skin. It was easy for Tom to talk to her when there was a door between them, but now all he can do is stand there and stare. “Thank you, my name is Julia.” She pulls the blanket off her shoulders and gives it to Tom. “Oh.” She said. “Oh?” Tom said. He grabs the blanket from her wrapped up hands. “Ulysses is a dog. Thought there were two people here… Sorry, about the whole swearing at you, but I’m really scared. Can you help me find your friend?” He looks at Ulysses again whose fur is standing up on end behind his neck. “Yes, yes we can.” Ulysses walks away. “Hey, get back here.” Ulysses walks out of sight into the kitchen. Julia jumps up and wraps her arms around him. “Thank you! We must go now! I am not sure how much time I got.” She climbs off him and runs to the front door. “Let’s go! I know the last place I saw him.” Tom is still facing the bedroom door eyes wide and it feels like all the blood in his body went to his face. “Just one moment. Then you- ‘We’ will. Find your guy friend. Friend, right? I have… I will get a few things from the shed then we can…” Tom says as he rushes to the backdoor between the kitchen and his room. He leaves it open. Now outside “One, two, three, four; wait!” He loses count and starts back from the back door along the pebble path toward the outhouse and shed. At the shed, he sees he left the back-door open, where both Ulysses and Julia are watching him, both their heads are tilted. Tom bites his tongue and closes his eyes and opens the shed door. Inside he begins to breath with at a rapid rhythm as he leans on his workbench where not a screw is not lined up in order from smallest to largest and organized by type. Further back there are two boar hides drying out as well as multiple slabs of meat hanging from the rafter. “Are you okay?” said Julia from behind the closed shed door. “Yes. Yes! I am stupendous! Just getting some rope.” “Okay. I’ll wait by the cabin.” “I am good, let’s go!” He swings the door open, rope in hand as well as a fully equipped tool belt. “I just need to call the ranger’s office.” Said Tom “No! No, time. We can call in when we have found him.” Said Julia. She begins to march on toward the path in front of the cabin. Ulysses creeps to Tom’s side and watches Julia fur on edge. “No. This is an emergency and my father said only use the radio in the case of an emergency.” Tom wraps the rope around his shoulder and holds his gun as he heads back into the house. “Don’t call them.” “It will only take a second.” Tom smiles. Ulysses begins to snarl at Julia. “Ulysses! Knock it off! I am sorry about-“ Tom stops mid-sentence to see Julia staring at him in tears and slowly backing away from the cabin and Tom. “Don’t call them!” said Julia. “Why?” said Tom. Holding the backdoor open. “I cannot explain it, but I do need your help that was honest. I am running.” Tom pulls the gun on her and she throws her hands up. “You’re a criminal! Keep your hands up!” said Tom. Ulysses begins to bark. “No!” “There is no ‘friend’ is there!” “Yes, there is, but I- we can’t let the cops know!” A darker wet mark begins to spread between Julia’s legs. Tom notices as he begins to count the seconds in his head, but keeps his rifle trained on her. She crumbles to her knees and begins to cry uncontrollably. “I promised him.” “But it’s right to tell the authorities.” Tom lowers his gun and Ulysses stops barking. Julia collects herself and stands up. “Tom; I am sorry I called you retarded and cursed at you when all you did was help me. I made a promise to a friend and he I need to find him. If you help me I will explain everything, but we cannot call the authorities. They would not understand. Do what you think is right. I am leaving right now with or without you. Please trust me.” “That’s almost impossible considering the circumstances.” Tom said keeping his eyes trained on Julia. Julia reaches up and takes out the ninth earring out her left ear. Tom even though shaken can feel at peace that it fits together. “There was never a tenth earring.” Julia said as she puts the obsidian earring in her sweater pocket. “I will explain everything I promise.” Tom looks at Ulysses who is no longer growling at Julia and after a long moment, Tom shrugs. “Okay, but I am going to be keeping an eye on you.” Tom said. “Let’s go find your friend.” Julia smiles and leads on. Tom and Ulysses follows, counting each step.
	[WP] A bank robber takes off his ski mask and hails a cab, stowing his pistol in his back pocket. Suddenly, lights begin to flash around him. "Welcome to the Cash Cab!..."	The fanfare stunned Jeffery, making him immediately grabbed his gun. Ben announced the rules of the game, unaware of the weapon. "Are you ready to play Cash Cab?" Jeffery quickly realized that he was on camera, and holstered his gun once more. "Sure, whatever, please just start the car!" he replied urgently. "So you're saying you want to play the game?" Ben asked, still looking back at Jeff. "Just start the fucking car!" Ben nodded, merging into traffic. "Ok, Jeff. Can I call you Jeff? What's the biggest bank in America?" Ben asked, looking at Jeffery through the mirror. Jeff, having just robbed the very same bank, was dumbstruck. "I don't... can we just drive, please?" "Sorry Jeff, either we play the game or I stop the car." "It's... it's JPMorgan Chase, Ben." "That's $100 for you, Jeff!" Ben announced, as the cab's lights flashed. Jeff tried to shield his eyes from them. "Ok, for question two: what caliber bullets does the Glock G29 use?" Jeffery's eyes went wide. He gripped his Glock. "I, I- I don't think I know that one, Ben," he said, stuttering. "That's a shame, Jeff, a shame indeed!" Ben said, taking a turn. "Three wrong and this is over! You won't like that, will you Jeff?" Jeffery pushed himself into the back of his seat, silently shaking his head. "Ok, next up, how many bank robberies take place per year in New York, on average?" Ben asked with a smile. "I'd like to get out now, please," Jeffery asked quietly. "Oh come on, we're just getting started! Take a guess, at least." "Three." "Oooh, it's four! Four bank robberies per year, Jeff. So close, ey? One strike left!" Ben replied, accelerating at the green light. Jeffery nodded with severity. "Next up - how much does it cost to treat leukemia in a child?" Jeffery was silent. He knew this one. "Come on Jeff, you gotta play it to win it!" "...$103250, more or less." "Right you are!" Ben said, as the lights flashed. He takes a turn, heading directly towards a dead-end. "Ok, so, important one here - what do you think the chances of a security guard surviving a gunshot wound to the chest are?" Jeffery gripped his gun. "I'd... I'd like to have a 'Shout-Out', please." Ben handed him the phone. Jeffery slowly put in the number, putting the phone to his ear with shaking hands. "Hello..?" a young child asked, voice quivering. "Honey, I just want to let you know... I'm sorry," Jeffery said, tears in his eyes. He gripped the phone. "I didn't have a choice." Ben turned to look at him. "You know she can't hear you, right?" Jeffery stared back at him with hollow eyes, putting the gun to his head. "...I know." ***** The police sirens blared in front of the bank. Jeffery's lifeless body lay splayed on the floor, his phone slick with blood, half his daughter's number blinking on the screen.	Charlie reaches for his back pocket, but the cab driver keeps talking. "I'm Ben Bailey, and you're in the cash cab. I'll ask you questions. Every time you get one right, we'll give you $100. If you get three wrong, you're done." "What, okay, just take me to 2343 Washington Ave." "Okay, that's 56 blocks. Plenty of time to make some money. Are you ready for the first question?" "Yeah, I'm a little nervous." "Just do your best, which Russian Tsar ordered the construction of St. Basil's?" "Uh..." "You do have a lifeline where you can phone a friend." "No, no," says Charlie, "That was Ivan the Terrible." "Nicely done, that's $100." Charlie looks in the review mirror and sees sirens flashing behind them. Ben pulls over. Charlie wants to scream, but the sirens pass. It's an ambulance. Charlie breathes a sigh of relief. "Sounds like that was a guess but a good one. Let's keep going. In what year was the Spanish Armada defeated by the English?" Charlie remembers it. He thinks back to Billy Madison. "Uh, 1588." "Correct, you're up to $200. Whoa, here's a red light. It's time for the Red Light Challenge. You have 30 seconds to name 5 of the 8 presidents who died while still in office." Charlie looks out the window and sees a police car beside them. He turns his head away from them and covers his face. "Kennedy, Lincoln, FDR." "That's three." "McKinley, and...Garfield." "That's right, another $250 for you." Charlie looks at the police car again, but it takes off at the light. The cab keeps going. "Alright, the questions get a bit harder, but they're worth $200. Are you ready?" "Uh, I guess." "What is the highest mountain in Japan?" "Umm, can I phone a friend?" "Yep." Ben hands him the cell phone. Charlie waves him off and calls from his phone. "Hey, yeah, it went fine. Can you pick me up on Washington? Yeah, I'll text you the address." "The game," says Ben. "Oh yeah, I'm on this Cash Cab thing. Yeah, I know. No, it's legit. Anyway, do you know the highest mountain in Japan. Are you sure? Fuji?" "That's right. You're up to $650, but you're out of lifelines. We only have two questions left. Boy, the police are all over the place here. Sirens everywhere. Oh well, your next question. In Siberia is the deepest lake in the world, what is its name?" "Gee, Ben, I don't know. I'll have to guess. Oh wait, Lake Baikal." "Correct again, up to $850. You're really robbing me. Alright, what does gas our atmosphere mostly consist of? Hint, it's not oxygen." "Oh, I don't know. Umm, I know it's not carbon dioxide. I think it's nitrogen." "Correct again. You have $1050, and here's your stop." Ben pulls out the money and shows it to Charlie. "Now, you could go for double or nothing. You would double your money if you're right, but, if you're wrong, you lose everything." "I'm going to take the money and walk." Charlie pulls out a huge wad of cash and adds the Cash Cab money to it. Ben looks at the money confused. Charlie gets out of the cab but looks at Ben. "You never saw me, okay?" "It's on video, this...everything. We taped this." "Crap, I have to go." Charlie gets out of the car and starts running down the street directly into two officers who stop him. He explains about the Cash Cab and his excitement about winning. Somehow it works. The officers let him go while Ben Bailey watches, confused. Ben never puts it together, and Charlie escapes into the night. *** If you liked this, I also wrote a prompt about a talking cow that loves cow puns. [Here is part I.](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/4qd66j/wp_a_poorlydisguised_escaped_dairy_cow_has_worked/)
	[WP] A dragon disguised as a human travels with a dragonslayer for fun and profit	The fire was small, only large enough to cook food and chase away the darkness and those that lived within it. The man who tended the fire seemed to be average height but stockier than most that came through the forest. His clothes were well-worn and, though they looked clean, Rashka could smell the iron of blood coming off them. There was a gleaming sword in the man’s hands, it’s edges freshly sharpened from the whetstone in the man had just set aside. “Are you going to stand there all night?” the man called out, not looking up from his blade as he examined his work. “I promise you, this blade is not for you.” Rashka smiled, a bit indulgently, in the darkness. If only the man knew. With the hood of his deep green cloak up, Rashka walked out of the brush into the circle of flickering light. “That is a quick promise to make,” Rashka announced, folding his hands in front of him. “Who are you to make it?” “Jon Lykos of the Western Barrens,” the man nodded his dark head in greeting. “And what are you doing out in the middle of the Green Expanse?” “Is that so unbelievable?” Rashka asked instead, his bright green eyes flickering around the small camp. Besides a bedroll, already spread out, and a rather full bag of supplies, there was nothing of particular interest. A bit disappointing but that was not a indication of skill. “They say there is a dragon in these woods,” Jon said calmly, slipping his sword back into its sheath and setting it beside him. It was still in easy reach, Rashka noticed. “Is that so?” Rashka said, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Then why are you here?” “To slay it,” Jon said, not with a show of bravado or ego but with a calm statement of fact. “It has started to feed on the villages that boarder the great forest.” Rashka kept his face expressionless but a wave of disgust went through him. Humans tasted disgusting. To think that Vexys would sink so low... Rashka rolled his shoulders, straightening his back. Well, if this one failed, others would come to take his place. “Then it seems you and I have a similar goal,” Rashka announced, smiling slightly. He hoped his teeth didn’t seem too sharp in the dim light. “I, too, would like to see this dragon killed and done away with.” “Is that so?” Jon asked, his left eyebrow raised in curiosity. “You do not have the air of a warrior about you. Are you a wizard, by chance?” Rashka lifted a hand, palm up, and vines poured out of it, twirling and waving down to the forest floor where they dissolved into green embers that burned without heat until they were gone. “A very skilled one,” Rashka smirked. The human might be humble but he had no such qualms. Jon nodded, impressed. “I would be thankful for the help,” he admitted before he stood up. He looked Rashka over once more. “This dragon we’re after? It’s a red one from the Fire Mountains from the East and it’s a nasty piece of work.” “Yes, I am aware,” Rashka said dryly, letting his hand drop so that the vines vanished. “It came into the Green Expanse and drove the guardian out,” Jon continued, stepping around the fire to approach Rashka properly. “They don’t know what happened to the green dragon, only that Vexys had taken over its home and treasures. The villagers think the green dragon is dead.” Rashka tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as the human stopped in front of him. With the exception of this Vexys incident, Rashka hadn’t lived as long as he had by being a simpleton. “Do you know my name, Jon Lykos of the Western Barrens?” Rashka asked slowly, his voice low as the forest seemed to still around them and it waited for the answer. “Rashka,” Jon said without hesitation, “Guardian of the Green Expanse and Protector of the Wood.” Jon placed his fist over his heart and bowed his head. “I have come to help you regain your land and destroy the intruder that dared to take it from you.” Rashka watched the human for a moment, considering. Then he smiled. Perhaps this human could be of use after all.	“You know we’re not all that thick right?” Sir Coranstirne considered it insulting that Fleg thought a cheap wig and fake breasts worn as a necklace was sufficient disguise. The two sat around the fire Fleg had thrown up earlier. Fleg responded, her voice deep and rumbling, carried on a scent of burnt meat. “I’m well aware.” The way her jaw flapped open and shut, pine needle like teeth on full display, had little relation to what he’d heard. “But it’s what works.” Coran had to begrudgingly admit that Fleg had indeed managed to enter the nearest town and purchase the supplies needed for a good couple of nights. She’d even got less suspicious looks than he would have. After all he’d not taken off his heavy armour in a few weeks and didn’t remember what colour it was under rusted bandit blood. But it still wasn’t fair that 10 ton reptile with a wingspan of several meters and jaws that could swallow most people whole got a free pass just because everyone knew dragons didn’t have hair or mammary glands. “But why do you bother?” He had to ask her. Fleg considered before answering. “It’s simple really, people have their uses. A dragonslayer such as yourself is an asset. You just need to be pointed to the appropriate place. After all, I’d also rather there were fewer fights between hot-headed adolescent males.”
	[WP] A dragon disguised as a human travels with a dragonslayer for fun and profit	"Watch out! He's coming for you!" Steve shouted at me. Indeed, the dragon we were slaying today had decided to approach me rather than him, but not to kill me, at least not yet. The dragon's voice entered my head, Why are you doing this? I can smell the dragon that you are and yet you side with the mortals who want to see us all dead! I decided not to respond immediately to the telepathic probe. That would take away the suspense of the situation this dragon was in. As I raised my sword with my right hand, I could feel my own dragon instincts fighting back and restraining me. But I refused to let them take over and ruin what I had worked towards. The dragon roared in agony. WHY!? the dragon's mind bellowed at me. I looked to the right, and realized I had missed my chance to take the strike. Steve's sword was wedged between two of the dragon's ribs. In weakness, the dragon's head fell down onto the ground. His eyes stayed open. Why would you side with the mortal races? A sly smile crept across my face. I walked up to his left ear and whispered, "You'll see." At that moment the dragon fell unconscious. "Is it supposed to do this?" Steve yelled from the far side of the dragon. I ran over to where the sword was planted in the beast's gut. The sword's steel glowed with a bright blue light, and the dragon flesh around where it was planted was glowing like magma. The cracks of red-orange spread out and fractured across the dragon's surface. Up the lines of scales to the tip of his nose, across the wings, and down to the tip of his tail, the dragon was now completely covered. I looked towards Steve, "That's exactly what the magical enchantment is supposed to do." "Alright then Karen, how long are we gonna have to wait to pull it out?" "Not long," I replied. The glowing cracks in the dragon's skin were already starting to fade. "Once the sword stops glowing and the cracks disappear, you can remove the sword." "Well I'll say this, your enchantment is absolutely incredible! Who would have thought a single puncture could defeat a dragon so easily?" "That's why it's called magic, Steve." The sword stopped glowing, "It's done. Grab your sword and let's head into town for a drink." "I like the sound of that!" Steve cheered. "But we need to collect the bounty on this beast first. I'll go get the horses." Once Steve had disappeared into the forest, I climbed into the mouth of the dragon. The saliva was acidic to human skin, but not mine, thankfully. In the darkness, I let out a puff of flame to aid my sight. As expected, the throat had closed up. Aided by my dragon muscles, I cut a chunk of the throat loose, and removed it. On the other side lay my prize: the human body of a young man, wearing no clothes. As my dragon eyes adjusted to the darkness, he woke up. I... I thought I was killed. Where am I? "In your own throat," I responed, holding my sword defensively. He jumped, startled, and turned to face me on all fours. It's YOU! When did you get so big? What is this place? "Like I said, it's your own throat. Although I guess I should say, it's your old throat. Why not try speaking with your new one?" He paused, confused, then looked back at the rest of his body and realized the lack of scales, wings, or tail. He tried to speak, but clearly didn't know quite how to yet, since only a squeak came out before he resorted to telepathy again. Am I human? What is this? Why? "Calm down," I said, "while you look human, you're definitely not." I then demonstrated this by blowing a fireball further into the corpse's digestive system. "You're still very much a dragon in this form. But you're also new, so it will take a while for your powers to come back." He stood up, using the wall of the throat for support. "M- My p-powers?" He was struggling with his speech, but not as much as I had when I first turned human. Before I could explain, my heightened senses picked up the sound of distant horse hooves approaching. "I have to go," I told him. "Wait here, and you'll be safe until I get back tonight." "Yo- You're leaving m- me?" he asked reluctantly, still struggling to speak clearly. "I have to if I want to protect my cover. Wait here and I'll explain everything when I come back tonight." With that, I darted back out of the corpse's mouth and ran towards the nearby river. I had to wash off the saliva before Steve got back. I was just back out of the river as Steve made it to the clearing with our horses. "Decided to take a swim?" he asked jokingly. "I was getting all hot and sweaty in my armor, waiting for you to get back," I replied. "That armor of yours will be nothing but rust soon if you keep that up." He dismounted his horse and tied them both to a tree. He then removed a large jar from one of the saddlebags. "Now, let's drain this beast!" Steve placed the jar on the ground just beneath the neck of the corpse, then used his sword to slash open the nearest artery. The jar was full in seconds, and blood was pooling on the ground. Steve picked up the jar and capped it with a cork stopper. "I'll take the jar. You should wash your hands off," I said to Steve. "Thanks," he said. He handed me the jar and walked toward the river. As I approached the horses, Steve's started neighing in fear, and backed away. That figures though, when you carry the scent of a dragon. It took almost a year for my horse to get comfortable with my scent. I had only been with Steve for a fortnight. "So she still doesn't like you?" Steve yelled as he walked over. "I guess not," I replied as I put the jar in one of my saddlebags. "Too bad. Well, that reward money ain't going to collect itself!" Steve untied and mounted his horse, and I followed suit. One more thing, I thought to the dragon, what's your name? Argin he replied. Karen. With that, Steve and I rode off into town to collect our reward, and a couple pints of beer. --- Part 2 below!	“You know we’re not all that thick right?” Sir Coranstirne considered it insulting that Fleg thought a cheap wig and fake breasts worn as a necklace was sufficient disguise. The two sat around the fire Fleg had thrown up earlier. Fleg responded, her voice deep and rumbling, carried on a scent of burnt meat. “I’m well aware.” The way her jaw flapped open and shut, pine needle like teeth on full display, had little relation to what he’d heard. “But it’s what works.” Coran had to begrudgingly admit that Fleg had indeed managed to enter the nearest town and purchase the supplies needed for a good couple of nights. She’d even got less suspicious looks than he would have. After all he’d not taken off his heavy armour in a few weeks and didn’t remember what colour it was under rusted bandit blood. But it still wasn’t fair that 10 ton reptile with a wingspan of several meters and jaws that could swallow most people whole got a free pass just because everyone knew dragons didn’t have hair or mammary glands. “But why do you bother?” He had to ask her. Fleg considered before answering. “It’s simple really, people have their uses. A dragonslayer such as yourself is an asset. You just need to be pointed to the appropriate place. After all, I’d also rather there were fewer fights between hot-headed adolescent males.”
	[WP] A dragon disguised as a human travels with a dragonslayer for fun and profit	"Watch out! He's coming for you!" Steve shouted at me. Indeed, the dragon we were slaying today had decided to approach me rather than him, but not to kill me, at least not yet. The dragon's voice entered my head, Why are you doing this? I can smell the dragon that you are and yet you side with the mortals who want to see us all dead! I decided not to respond immediately to the telepathic probe. That would take away the suspense of the situation this dragon was in. As I raised my sword with my right hand, I could feel my own dragon instincts fighting back and restraining me. But I refused to let them take over and ruin what I had worked towards. The dragon roared in agony. WHY!? the dragon's mind bellowed at me. I looked to the right, and realized I had missed my chance to take the strike. Steve's sword was wedged between two of the dragon's ribs. In weakness, the dragon's head fell down onto the ground. His eyes stayed open. Why would you side with the mortal races? A sly smile crept across my face. I walked up to his left ear and whispered, "You'll see." At that moment the dragon fell unconscious. "Is it supposed to do this?" Steve yelled from the far side of the dragon. I ran over to where the sword was planted in the beast's gut. The sword's steel glowed with a bright blue light, and the dragon flesh around where it was planted was glowing like magma. The cracks of red-orange spread out and fractured across the dragon's surface. Up the lines of scales to the tip of his nose, across the wings, and down to the tip of his tail, the dragon was now completely covered. I looked towards Steve, "That's exactly what the magical enchantment is supposed to do." "Alright then Karen, how long are we gonna have to wait to pull it out?" "Not long," I replied. The glowing cracks in the dragon's skin were already starting to fade. "Once the sword stops glowing and the cracks disappear, you can remove the sword." "Well I'll say this, your enchantment is absolutely incredible! Who would have thought a single puncture could defeat a dragon so easily?" "That's why it's called magic, Steve." The sword stopped glowing, "It's done. Grab your sword and let's head into town for a drink." "I like the sound of that!" Steve cheered. "But we need to collect the bounty on this beast first. I'll go get the horses." Once Steve had disappeared into the forest, I climbed into the mouth of the dragon. The saliva was acidic to human skin, but not mine, thankfully. In the darkness, I let out a puff of flame to aid my sight. As expected, the throat had closed up. Aided by my dragon muscles, I cut a chunk of the throat loose, and removed it. On the other side lay my prize: the human body of a young man, wearing no clothes. As my dragon eyes adjusted to the darkness, he woke up. I... I thought I was killed. Where am I? "In your own throat," I responed, holding my sword defensively. He jumped, startled, and turned to face me on all fours. It's YOU! When did you get so big? What is this place? "Like I said, it's your own throat. Although I guess I should say, it's your old throat. Why not try speaking with your new one?" He paused, confused, then looked back at the rest of his body and realized the lack of scales, wings, or tail. He tried to speak, but clearly didn't know quite how to yet, since only a squeak came out before he resorted to telepathy again. Am I human? What is this? Why? "Calm down," I said, "while you look human, you're definitely not." I then demonstrated this by blowing a fireball further into the corpse's digestive system. "You're still very much a dragon in this form. But you're also new, so it will take a while for your powers to come back." He stood up, using the wall of the throat for support. "M- My p-powers?" He was struggling with his speech, but not as much as I had when I first turned human. Before I could explain, my heightened senses picked up the sound of distant horse hooves approaching. "I have to go," I told him. "Wait here, and you'll be safe until I get back tonight." "Yo- You're leaving m- me?" he asked reluctantly, still struggling to speak clearly. "I have to if I want to protect my cover. Wait here and I'll explain everything when I come back tonight." With that, I darted back out of the corpse's mouth and ran towards the nearby river. I had to wash off the saliva before Steve got back. I was just back out of the river as Steve made it to the clearing with our horses. "Decided to take a swim?" he asked jokingly. "I was getting all hot and sweaty in my armor, waiting for you to get back," I replied. "That armor of yours will be nothing but rust soon if you keep that up." He dismounted his horse and tied them both to a tree. He then removed a large jar from one of the saddlebags. "Now, let's drain this beast!" Steve placed the jar on the ground just beneath the neck of the corpse, then used his sword to slash open the nearest artery. The jar was full in seconds, and blood was pooling on the ground. Steve picked up the jar and capped it with a cork stopper. "I'll take the jar. You should wash your hands off," I said to Steve. "Thanks," he said. He handed me the jar and walked toward the river. As I approached the horses, Steve's started neighing in fear, and backed away. That figures though, when you carry the scent of a dragon. It took almost a year for my horse to get comfortable with my scent. I had only been with Steve for a fortnight. "So she still doesn't like you?" Steve yelled as he walked over. "I guess not," I replied as I put the jar in one of my saddlebags. "Too bad. Well, that reward money ain't going to collect itself!" Steve untied and mounted his horse, and I followed suit. One more thing, I thought to the dragon, what's your name? Argin he replied. Karen. With that, Steve and I rode off into town to collect our reward, and a couple pints of beer. --- Part 2 below!	Twirling moons, nostalgic boys, an eternal shooting star. Their eyes never left the star's trail - nor did their minds leave the future. "Tomorrow." Harrison said. "I know." Elon replied. They both watched the star and said nothing. It was a cooperative silence. Their concern grew as the star grew closer to them and lit up the sky in a wash of purple and pink, long flames firing off from the star as it fell closer and closer. Harrison leaned up and Elon stood, the both of them staring with more amazement than fear. It landed without a sound and towered over the field and the boys, and the trees and the town - its head reached far into the sky and its eyes stared down at Elon and Harrison, its cat-like slits glaring at the two of them. "A fine pair to witness. See me, cattle, and recall a word: dragonfire." _______________________________________________________________ Purple flame: a friend lost. A home lost. Elon remembered that night and the dragon's fire. Forgetting it was impossible - every moment his eyes were open, there were blind spots throughout his vision from that bright night. When he shut his eyes he only saw Harrison's wide eyes and soundless scream of agony as he was engulfed in fire. He'd left his charred home, followed the dragon's trail of fire back to his nest, and found its sloppy domain: skeletons, bodily waste, and giant pens of humans and livestock lined the walls. The dragon itself was asleep. A nest rested in the middle of the room, containing a large sack of fist-sized eggs. Elon couldn't kill the dragon and he knew that. So he destroyed the eggs, freed the dragon's prisoners, and watched as hundreds of shattered men and women fell upon the beast and ripped into its eyes and exposed flesh, its roars dying into whimpers as it realized its young had been killed. Elon couldn't find himself to feel guilt for the dragon's loss. He became a hermit after that, fleeing into the woods as those he saved praised him as a dragon slayer. He studied, trained, and used his share of the dragon's hoard to equip himself. By the time he'd become a man he was ready to accept his mantle as a dragon slayer. Some time passed and Elon turned into what all boys aspired to be - a hero. Looking at the wheezing body of another dragon, its bright yellow eyes wide with terror, Elon didn't feel very heroic. The king's representative patted his shoulder. "Well done! You've done it again, Dragonslayer. Very impressive." Elon set his spear beside him and knelt by the dragon, meeting its terrified glare. He smiled. He wasn't the hero he'd wanted to be, but he was a hero nonetheless. _______________________________________________________________ A year passed. Towns burned, dragons died, and Elon grew more depressed. He'd never stopped his warpath to mourn the death of his friend; in a way, this occupation was his way of mourning. One morning he decided it wasn't enough. He left the service of the king over the court's choir of disapproval and rode back to his town. Since he took up his mantle as a dragonslayer he'd been forwarding all of his profits to his hometown - he'd never gotten to see it and the progress it'd made. He had high hopes and thought that, when his career was over, he'd settle down there and keep watch over the town. Elon came home to dragonfire. Hours passed. The only survivor was a woman who hid herself in the same field he and Harrison were those years prior. An introduction unheard. The woman followed Elon as he trailed the path of fire to a familiar cave. It was recently occupied. A dragon had lived there and he found a single scale on the floor: a large, purple one, deliberately picked off the hide of the beast. It was a message meant for Elon, and he'd interpreted it exactly as intended; one of his first's children had survived and it sought revenge. As he set out to track this new rival the woman followed him without asking, and the two became an unspoken team. _______________________________________________________________________ will do more soon if this is liked
	[WP] You love spending time at your auntie's house, but you must never open the red door.	Carol held the cap up in her hands. It looked like the kind of hat that pilots wore a long time ago with a pair of goggles that seemed like they were permanently attached to it. It also had a fine leathery feel and was very light. Maybe just a little loose on her head when she tried it on. The lens on the goggles were dusty and fogged from age and she could barely make out the light that shined through the red door of the room. She kept the cap on her head and continued to explore more of the dimly lit room. On one end was a trophy case filled with memorabilia and awards. Inside, sat a framed picture. Upon closer inspection she could see a crowd gathered around two people in front of city hall. She knew the place from learning about in class, but it looked older somehow. One of the two people wore a suit and tie, and the other person was a young woman. She was in a brown leather jacket, gloves, with a scarf around her neck. Carol recognized the cap on her head as the one she had on. The woman was smiling and shaking the hand of the man in the suit as he handed her something shiny. A very large plaque on which it read: "The Aviator". There were a lot of other things that looked just like the woman in the picture in the room. In the corner was a mannequin with the same attire, small statues and figures as well as a large poster featuring her as one of several other people in cool costumes. They were all standing side by side standing in heroic poses. "Carol!" The sudden voice came from the doorway and made her jump. It was her Aunt Carolyn quickly making her way towards her. "What did I tell you about opening this door?" She said, her voice sounding more worried than angry. "Is that you Aunt Carolyn?" Her grand niece asked, pointing to the trophy case. "Were you a pilot?" Carolyn looked to the trophy case and to Carol who stood with an over sized pilot's cap on her head. It was almost as if... No. Her parents had been strict with their demands. Take care of her while they were away and she was not to be exposed to any of this. They'd even named Carol after her. But in the last year, she'd shown the signs. When Carol ran around the farm, she practically glided across that grass. And when she fell, she did it so slowly that a scrape never came from it. And the child had no idea. What kind of Auntie would she be if there was no one to tell her why it was just her visiting and not all her other siblings. "I'm sorry Aunt Carolyn. I was just really really curious. I won't do it again." Carol said solemnly with a tinge of sadness. Carolyn sighed. "I wasn't a pilot." She said shooing the girl away from the trophy case and towards one of the two chairs that sat in the room. Her face lit up realizing a story, and quickly jumped into one of them and waited. Carolyn opened the trophy case and took the picture out and wiped some dust off of the frame. She had been so much younger then, no grey in that blonde hair, wrinkles on that skin. It had been so long since she'd come into this room. Picture in hand she sat herself down onto the other chair next to Carol. A small plume of dust escaping from the cushions. "You see." She began, looking at Carol who was beaming. "I didn't need a plane to fly."	My auntie was a sweetheart, a real sweetheart, y'know? Just the best. I love her. God bless her. Absolute sweetheart. But she was tremendously old, tremendously... I remember she took me outside one time and pointed to this huge tree - it was absolutely huge, gigantic, the biggest tree on the block by far, just a tremendous, tremendous tree - and she points to this tree and says, "Let me tell you. You don't know this. But I was born before this tree. I'm older than this tree." True story. I've got pictures, other people confirmed it..It was just incredible, absolutely amazing. But as I got older, I started noticing that she wasn't all the way there mentally, like she might be a little...I dont want to say crazy, but I'm going to say crazy for now because I cant think of another word to use. But, yeah. She was crazy. I don't like using that word, but she was. And nobody wanted to say it, they didn't want to talk about it. I never understood that. You go up to one of the adults and whisper, "Hey, is Auntie..?" And they don't want you to say it, they don't walk to talk about it. "Be quiet." Just like that. I never understood that. So one summer I'm staying at her house and I see this red door in her house that I've never seen before; and my aunt tells me not to go through the door, so naturally I want to go through the door - what kid wouldn't? And as soon as she's out of sight, I run to the door and I open the door and I smell this ridiculously horrible smell coming from inside, just horrible. And it's dark, and it's stinky, and it's nasty. I turn around to go find a flashlight, and my auntie is standing right there, and boy does she look pissed! And she says, "I thought I told you not to open the door." And I say...because she's crazy, remember? So I'm thinking she won't remember telling me not to open door, and I go, "No, you didn't tell me." Then she gives me this really creepy smile and says, "Oh well then that's too bad because now you have to die." And she pushes me and I fall backward into the darkness, while she slams the door shut.
	[WP] You love spending time at your auntie's house, but you must never open the red door.	Carol held the cap up in her hands. It looked like the kind of hat that pilots wore a long time ago with a pair of goggles that seemed like they were permanently attached to it. It also had a fine leathery feel and was very light. Maybe just a little loose on her head when she tried it on. The lens on the goggles were dusty and fogged from age and she could barely make out the light that shined through the red door of the room. She kept the cap on her head and continued to explore more of the dimly lit room. On one end was a trophy case filled with memorabilia and awards. Inside, sat a framed picture. Upon closer inspection she could see a crowd gathered around two people in front of city hall. She knew the place from learning about in class, but it looked older somehow. One of the two people wore a suit and tie, and the other person was a young woman. She was in a brown leather jacket, gloves, with a scarf around her neck. Carol recognized the cap on her head as the one she had on. The woman was smiling and shaking the hand of the man in the suit as he handed her something shiny. A very large plaque on which it read: "The Aviator". There were a lot of other things that looked just like the woman in the picture in the room. In the corner was a mannequin with the same attire, small statues and figures as well as a large poster featuring her as one of several other people in cool costumes. They were all standing side by side standing in heroic poses. "Carol!" The sudden voice came from the doorway and made her jump. It was her Aunt Carolyn quickly making her way towards her. "What did I tell you about opening this door?" She said, her voice sounding more worried than angry. "Is that you Aunt Carolyn?" Her grand niece asked, pointing to the trophy case. "Were you a pilot?" Carolyn looked to the trophy case and to Carol who stood with an over sized pilot's cap on her head. It was almost as if... No. Her parents had been strict with their demands. Take care of her while they were away and she was not to be exposed to any of this. They'd even named Carol after her. But in the last year, she'd shown the signs. When Carol ran around the farm, she practically glided across that grass. And when she fell, she did it so slowly that a scrape never came from it. And the child had no idea. What kind of Auntie would she be if there was no one to tell her why it was just her visiting and not all her other siblings. "I'm sorry Aunt Carolyn. I was just really really curious. I won't do it again." Carol said solemnly with a tinge of sadness. Carolyn sighed. "I wasn't a pilot." She said shooing the girl away from the trophy case and towards one of the two chairs that sat in the room. Her face lit up realizing a story, and quickly jumped into one of them and waited. Carolyn opened the trophy case and took the picture out and wiped some dust off of the frame. She had been so much younger then, no grey in that blonde hair, wrinkles on that skin. It had been so long since she'd come into this room. Picture in hand she sat herself down onto the other chair next to Carol. A small plume of dust escaping from the cushions. "You see." She began, looking at Carol who was beaming. "I didn't need a plane to fly."	The Red door at my Aunts She never wants it open I beg and beg but she refuses The mystery is golden I sneak down at night And open the door I turn on the light And see bodies on the floor.
	[WP] Aliens have invaded earth. They offer the key to immortality and light speed travel... In exchange for 3.5 billion slaves.	My fellow Americans. I have some good news and some bad news for you. The good news is that I, President Spanky, have been given the secret of immortality. It's really quite simple. I mean, you wouldn't believe how cheap and easy this was. Just like my last date. (chuckles) I kid, I kid. My lovely wife Becky has only been dead three months. I'm not ready to date. Also, the alien's timing kind of sucks. You gotta be alive to get the treatment. (yells at floor) I tried, baby! Hope you're warm down there! Also, they threw in the ability to travel at the speed of light. You won't even need a spaceship! Your strolling speed will be the same as Adam, from the Bible. A fast walker, that Adam. Just try not to bump into each other, y'all. Now then, the bad news. In exchange for the good stuff, I gotta send a shitload of you off to an alien planet where you will be slaves for the rest of your lives. Sadly, your lives will be eternal, because that's how they roll. Anyhow, I've already gotten the treatment. I'm going to live forever, so no hurry in paying that parking ticket. What's a late fee when you've got infinity? So good night, and may God bless the United States of America. We now return you to the end of the Super Bowl.	War. They set us to war. To be fair we are remarkably good at it. Still we are slaves, heavily armed armored immortal slaves with land and riches after 100 years of service, but slaves nonetheless. The Sarasana needed soldiers. Drones and AI weren't cutting it against the hive mind of the Ra'ka, so they came to Earth by all rights a backwater of little value to anyone and offered us salvation in exchange for violence and rage. "Shal", I can't actually pronounce my owners name, "how many on the ground?" I ask laying into the drop pod. "Nine hundred thirty two, lightly armed." Shal responds, well the translator responds, the various bioluminescent patches on his head flash brightly in an almost hypnotizing pattern. His hands glide over a holographic display with inhuman dexterity ushering the drop pod to close and securing me in my hopefully temporary coffin. "So can I have some jerky if I bring the plasma cannon back in one piece this time?" I ask hopefully. I probably shouldn't have used the last one to beat a centurion to death, but it's charge ran dry and I really wanted that ugly bug dead. "You do not get treats for fulfilling contractual obligations!" flashed angrily followed by an exasperated sigh. "Just don't desecrate any corpses this time and I'll see what we can pick up at the next resupply." "Fine. I'll try not to put them in any funny posthumous poses." I sigh. This going to be boring, there'll be nothing to do once I'm waiting for evac. A hiss indicate the seals have engaged signaling the pods inevitable descent on the world below. I hate this part, it's like a drop on a roller coaster that goes on just a bit too long with a stop that's a little to sudden. The muted explosion and my stomach drops. Here we go 30 to impact. I'm hitting turbulence, sounds like the Ra'ka figured out what's in the pods. Not that it matters much, only takes one in five making landfall for them to be thoroughly and completely fucked. Turns out humans under the effects of adrenaline cause feedback in psionics and a hive mind that relies on them for coordination is hilariously screwed in our presence. 5 to impact. An electric shock hits me as the armor welded to my spine begins injecting me with stims. I love this part, just a few moments when everything falls away and I'm completely at peace. Impact. Pod's hatch blows away. 14 icons ping on my visor, It's going to be a blood bath. My vision fades to red, now it's just enemies, targets, bugs. RAGE! Impact -120 minutes, me and 14 others sit at the evac point. Some are nursing minor wounds, others sleeping or cleaning gore from their armor and weapons. I'm trying to figure out why I have a pile of chitin plates at my feet and why one of them has a smiley face painted with viscera on it. The shuttles arives -130 minutes. My radio clicks on as soon as I'm on the craft, "I TOLD YOU NO DESECRATION!", how does someone that communicates with light even scream? "Sorry. It's just I get a little caught up in the fight and---" "A LITTLE!?", Shal cuts me off, "That's 20 scalps, how did you even collect that many without taking enemy fire?" "Sorry" I stutter. "I made you something from one of them" I say proudly holding the one with a smile on it in my helmet's view. "That's um.. very nice" Shal reassures me, "thank you Charles". Yup this is going out the air lock about 5 seconds into our return, but hey I tried. "I'll see if I can find you some preserved meat." "WOOOO!!! JERKY!!!", my exclamation draws the attention of the other humans on the transport, several roll their eyes at my outburst. "Oh fuck you. I done good, so I get jerky." The excited dancing does not ease the tide of silent vitriol from my fellows.
	[WP] Aliens have invaded earth. They offer the key to immortality and light speed travel... In exchange for 3.5 billion slaves.	"You cant be serious." She was incredulous. I had worked with her long enough to know when to play my cards close and when to lay them all out. My entire deck was on the table. "Does it look like I'm joking?" I wasn't. "We have an opportunity to free ourselves from not only this planet but from death and all while getting rid of, if you'll pardon me Doctor, an annoyance on the entire species." "They'll never go for it, you know that right?" "Well that's why we're all here right? To figure out a way to make them go for it. Rogers, How much time do we have?" "One hour to next transmission window sir." "Thank you Rogers." "This will be the last window, sir" "I know Rogers. Thank you son, carry on." His salute was crisp and heel turn precise. He'd probably make Colonel one day, but if this works there probably wont be any more Colonels. I drank from the hours old cold coffee, trying to work the problem and I was fresh out of ideas. The Visitors arrived last year and made their offer known to the entire planet at once. It was broadcast on all screens and radios simultaneously in all languages. The areas without any communication devices reported hearing the voice as though it were inside their own head. I still haven't shaken the experience. Greetings. We are representatives of the Dynamic Intergalactic Commerce Syndicate. We have observed your world for some time and the decision has been made to offer you entrance into the Syndicate. As charter members of the Syndicate you will be granted the gift of Hyperlight travel and Cellular Regeneration technology through which you will become effectively immortal. In exchange for these gifts we require an investment on your part. Labor. We require 3.5 billion individuals of your world to become indefinite indentured labor on our core worlds. We will return once per quarter orbit of your world around your home star for a period of one full orbit. At that time if no agreement has been reached we will rescind the offer and your world will be left out of the Syndicate for a period of no less than one thousand orbits. Have a pleasant solar cycle When the transmission ended, everything else did as well. The stock market cratered. Looting, riots, every imaginable behavior of a panicked civilization presented with the prospect of half of its population being offered up for slavery in exchange for limitless prosperity was taking it toll. Thousands have already died from the violence, tens of thousands more from the famines. It seems that humanity was doing its best to whittle itself down to the 3.5 billion so that everyone would be in the same pot. It didn't take long for the governments to get their acts together and declare almost world wide martial law. Food was beginning to flow back into the stores, but nothing from out of country. Every border was hard sealed. I remember them saying it would take years to get a border wall made. I guess when the chips are really down the impossible can happen. Mexico built their side in three months and Canada, four. My team was assembled from the top negotiators, linguists, and diplomats from around the world. We had six months to figure out a way to get the technology without losing half of the species. Things were not going well. I gave up weeks ago trying to reason with these people, if the aliens want them they can have them as far as I was concerned. I gave them the answer, defended it against what the aliens said and it was solid. Half the group said it was stupid and the other half crazy. At this point I would take crazy and stupid. The five minute klaxon sounded and I began my walk to the broadcast booth. I hadn't informed my superiors of my intent, otherwise I wouldn't be able to even attempt it. I sent them up what the group had decided would be best: lottery. It was approved by all governments. When the people actually find out that the "lottery" is completely rigged it'll be far too late. I wasn't going to have any of it. I sat in the seat behind the desk. I hadn't shaved for the occasion. I would either be a hero or a traitor and I didn't give a damn either way. The camera man was signaling that the transmission was coming in and we were live in 5...4...3...2... "Greetings Representative Davis" It was Representative Barlq. He was the only face we have ever seen of the Syndicate. "Hey Barlq, how it going?" I scanned the room and the the pale faces of the staff were all I needed to know that this was going to happen. "Things are amicable Mr. Davis. Have you made a final decision regarding the Syndicate offer?" "Yeah about that, your request was for 3.5 billion individuals from our world, yes?" "That is correct Mr. Davis?" "Very well. I would like to propose a counter offer if you're open." "The Syndicate is always open to negotiation." "Thats more like it Barlq! How about 7 billion individuals for a seat on the Syndicate Governing Council?" The silent scream from every human listening crashed like a wave on me. This was it. Go hard or go home. "Mr. Davis that is quite an offer! Very well on behalf of the Syndicate I accept your offer of 7 billion individuals from your world for a place on the Governing Council." "Great Barlq I knew we could come up with something, a win-win for everyone. Please transmit the information required for council placement, Cellular regeneration and FTL travel immediately." "Transmitting now Mr. Davis" I got a thumbs up and flip off from a very pissed off technician behind a monitor. "Thank you Barlq. You may commence your pick up of the 7 billion individuals from this world at your convenience. The species you will be collecting the individuals from are known as "ants". You will find the to be quite industrious workers and highly genetically modifiable to suit whatever your requirements." "Yes, Mr. Davis. We have studied your ants and find them a highly acceptable servant species. We are so glad that we have come to this arrangement. I was afraid for a moment that I would have to explain why I gave Council membership to a species that sold itself into servitude! Imagine the embarrassment!" "Yes, Barlq, how embarrassing indeed."	"So how much do you know about human culture?" Jason asked. His forehead was beaded with sweat; this was easily the biggest risk he had ever taken. The alien, whose name seemed to comprise solely of metallic clicking and scratching sounds, started viciously making chattering sounds, shaking the equivalent of its head simultaneously. It looks like a Colin to me; I shall call it Colin, I thought. The subtext seemed clear, as English words appeared on a screen behind Colin. "Your species is weak and pathetic. You are not worth the time of the mighty ___." That last bit didn't seem to translate - we didn't have a name for them yet. Let's call them the Colinians. "Do you accept our deal or not." I had to chuckle a little. I was reminded of an old phrase - one of my favourites. Pride comes before a fall. "Yes, sorry. I, on behalf of the planet earth, accept your deal." Jason was beginning to have second thoughts, but it was too late now. "Now, with regards to the payment of slaves." The prospect seemed to excite Colin. It's clicking got faster, it's head bobbing from side to side; it even started to gesticulate somewhat. "When will the slaves be ready?" The screen read. "Yes. About that; I was wondering if you wanted your standard slave package, or our special deluxe super-slaves," Jason stuttered slightly. The pressure bad never been higher. "You see, we have the sect on earth, of workers. Marvellous they are. Absolutely incredible. You see, they can lift around 50 times their on bodyweight; and that's just the beginning." I had a big long speech prepared, and began rattling facts about this deluxe package at full speed. No more than a minute in, it had the desired effect. "ENOUGH. We will take these 'deluxe slaves' as you say, provided you produce all 3.5 billion within the next planetary orbit." Colin seemed a bit anxious to get going; I though we were just getting to know each other, myself. "Certainly - in fact, I have them now; let me just go and get them." Jason retreated to the pod he arrived in, and retrieved a large wooded crate, carrying it carefully over to Colin. "Here is the first box; the rest are in the pod. I'll take those immortality pills and the light speed diagrams, if you please." Colin begrudgingly handed over the pills and the diagrams. In his hands, Jason held the key to humanity's survival. In the mean time, Jason retrieved two other crates from the pod. As he left them, looking rather puzzled, he looked over his shoulder and said "oh, and did I mention they are also travel sized?" Jason got in his pod and set a course for home, taking special care to photograph the diagrams and send them via instant message to the ground team. He also put the pills in a small capsule, specially designed to fall to earth, should Colin have a sudden change of heart about his deal. Meanwhile, Colin was in something of a daze. The crates contained nothing but a seething black mass of tiny creatures, even more puny that the human who had given them to him. On the side of each crate, the word 'ants' was written. Colin could only assume this was some other word for slave in the human language.
	[WP] You run an orphanage for children with... special talents. Tell a story of your first, or last day.	I'll tell you the story of my first day as a volunteer at the Orphanage for Special Children. By the name, I thought it was that kind of special. But, when I met the kids, I learnt why the orphanage had that name. The first kid I met was called Kevin. He lacked hair and had scales all over the skin. He showed to have a chameleon-like tongue when catching a fly mid-air when he was crawling on a wall. The second kid was called Heather. She was wearing fire-proof clothing. When I lowered to her height to shake her hand, she kept herself away from me, saying that "she burns everything she touches". Heather grabbed a piece of paper and it combusted immediately. Heather was always with Natalia, a similar girl with ice-cold breath. Natalia seems to be Heather's sister, and was able to hold her hand without problems. The fourth kid is called Eric. He was a bright boy. His body, except for the eyes, was constantly emitting light. I wonder how he sleeps. Other kids that are met are Katherine, the girl with rabbit ears (she hid them with a hood); Johnny, a boy with gills and webbed hands; Trinity, a paralyzed girl with psychic powers; among others. The day, otherwise, was normal: cleaning the places, preparing their lunch, playing with them, squirting water on Johnny's skin... Then, the bald guy on the wheelchair came. He was interested on the kids, claiming he could help them with their special talents.	"You have no idea what you are doing do you." It wasn't a question. It was an eye roll. It was a statement of reality. She was eleven, a street kid, whatever that means. Her hoodie sleeves would have hung twice as long as her arms if they weren't scrunched up at her wrists. Angelica fiddled with the blade of grass in her hand, never looking up to make eye contact. We sat on a patch of green, surrounded by black and brown and grey. Smoke lazily hovered over the ashes. I saw what she had done, not in a fit of red hot rage, but in a cold smolder. Her parents thought she was a demon. She was transplanted from inner city LA to my secluded estate in Oregon. I don't have much experience leading, or even interacting with people in general but when I look at the cold, dark hunger in her eyes and wonder if she will ever trust a human being again. I wonder if I am the first person to look at her and see a person.
	[WP] You run an orphanage for children with... special talents. Tell a story of your first, or last day.	The Westerland Home for Special Children, the sign said, arching over the stone gateway. It wasn't a dark place, as far as these places go, open fields, not ominous trees. "Hello?" I called, reaching out to the heavy gate. "I'm here about the job." Before I could touch the gate, an old, rather stooped man - the gatekeeper, I later learned - shambled out, waving me back. "Oh, no, sir, don't touch it." He thrust a rubber-wrapped key into the keyhole. "Electrified, you know," he said, gesturing me inside. "The students... nothing but trouble if they get out." I nodded in understanding. "So who will I be talking to about the job?" I gazed at the low buildings of the school. "The principal.. down the hallway on the right, if I recall correctly. Third door." He started back to the gatehouse, then turned as a boy ran for the front door. "Pigsley here can show you the way. He knows it well enough." Pigsley, a stout boy in the seventh grade, stopped in his tracks. "Yes, sir." He waved for me to follow him. As I did so, I took a good look at him. He reminded me of myself at that age. He looked... normal. "Headmaster Wren?" I asked, reading the sign on the door. "Come in, come in," a feminine voice said. "Don't mind the sign, hasn't been changed in years." I entered. "The paper said you needed someone to work with children who have... special talents. I've got experience with them." "Of course," said the speaker, a large woman behind an even larger desk. "I'm Principal Herman. You would be Mr. Smith?" "Ah, yes," I said, embarrassed at my rudeness. "Sorry." "Tell me about your experience." "I've worked with various kinds of troubled students - telepaths, telekinetics, mostly that sort." "Ah... Mr. Smith, there seems to have been a misunderstanding. The Westerland children are, for the most part, normal. Their talents are along the lines of... let's see..." she picked up a yellow paper and adjusted her spectacles. "Room One - housebreaking. Room Two - carjacking. Room Three - assault. Four through Six, pickpockets and petty theives. Oh, and Pigsley, who you've already met. Manslaughter, self defence." I gaped in shock. "But they seem so normal," I cried, sinking into an empty chair. "And so young!" "That's why they're here. Westerland is a children's correction facility. We pride ourselves in fifty years of success in healthy, happy, and rehabilitated children." Principal Herman smiled proudly. "When you say our children are normal, it's the best compliment you can give us." The job wasn't what I was expecting. I was accustomed to a different, less violent kind of special. But even on that first day, when I met the boys, I knew that this was where I belonged. It was Pigsley that convinced me to stay. Principal Herman had assured me that he was the furthest thing from violent, and would gladly tell me his story if I asked. It was a tale that revealed itself in all the boys, a tale as old as poverty itself. An abusive home life, rough friends, trouble in school. Some boys as young as nine were drug addicts - some younger, Pigsley told me, but not here. Violence seeping into every facet of their lives, coercion and threats on a daily basis. "It's not the boys that are the problem," Principal Herman told me, "It's the environment they're raised in. They'd be good boys if they had good parents." I was familiar with the self-blame and violent outbursts. These students were less likely to spontaneously burst into flames or tattle on the other kids' thoughts, but were equally unpredictable. "I'll take the job, Principal Herman," I said finally. "Thank you," she said, with a wide smile that I would come to associate with this place and with the boys I taught. "I'm sure you've seen how much we need help." But I didn't see them needing help. What I saw was a group of people with the biggest hearts in the world, and boys who would grow into good young men.	"You have no idea what you are doing do you." It wasn't a question. It was an eye roll. It was a statement of reality. She was eleven, a street kid, whatever that means. Her hoodie sleeves would have hung twice as long as her arms if they weren't scrunched up at her wrists. Angelica fiddled with the blade of grass in her hand, never looking up to make eye contact. We sat on a patch of green, surrounded by black and brown and grey. Smoke lazily hovered over the ashes. I saw what she had done, not in a fit of red hot rage, but in a cold smolder. Her parents thought she was a demon. She was transplanted from inner city LA to my secluded estate in Oregon. I don't have much experience leading, or even interacting with people in general but when I look at the cold, dark hunger in her eyes and wonder if she will ever trust a human being again. I wonder if I am the first person to look at her and see a person.
	[WP] You run an orphanage for children with... special talents. Tell a story of your first, or last day.	The Westerland Home for Special Children, the sign said, arching over the stone gateway. It wasn't a dark place, as far as these places go, open fields, not ominous trees. "Hello?" I called, reaching out to the heavy gate. "I'm here about the job." Before I could touch the gate, an old, rather stooped man - the gatekeeper, I later learned - shambled out, waving me back. "Oh, no, sir, don't touch it." He thrust a rubber-wrapped key into the keyhole. "Electrified, you know," he said, gesturing me inside. "The students... nothing but trouble if they get out." I nodded in understanding. "So who will I be talking to about the job?" I gazed at the low buildings of the school. "The principal.. down the hallway on the right, if I recall correctly. Third door." He started back to the gatehouse, then turned as a boy ran for the front door. "Pigsley here can show you the way. He knows it well enough." Pigsley, a stout boy in the seventh grade, stopped in his tracks. "Yes, sir." He waved for me to follow him. As I did so, I took a good look at him. He reminded me of myself at that age. He looked... normal. "Headmaster Wren?" I asked, reading the sign on the door. "Come in, come in," a feminine voice said. "Don't mind the sign, hasn't been changed in years." I entered. "The paper said you needed someone to work with children who have... special talents. I've got experience with them." "Of course," said the speaker, a large woman behind an even larger desk. "I'm Principal Herman. You would be Mr. Smith?" "Ah, yes," I said, embarrassed at my rudeness. "Sorry." "Tell me about your experience." "I've worked with various kinds of troubled students - telepaths, telekinetics, mostly that sort." "Ah... Mr. Smith, there seems to have been a misunderstanding. The Westerland children are, for the most part, normal. Their talents are along the lines of... let's see..." she picked up a yellow paper and adjusted her spectacles. "Room One - housebreaking. Room Two - carjacking. Room Three - assault. Four through Six, pickpockets and petty theives. Oh, and Pigsley, who you've already met. Manslaughter, self defence." I gaped in shock. "But they seem so normal," I cried, sinking into an empty chair. "And so young!" "That's why they're here. Westerland is a children's correction facility. We pride ourselves in fifty years of success in healthy, happy, and rehabilitated children." Principal Herman smiled proudly. "When you say our children are normal, it's the best compliment you can give us." The job wasn't what I was expecting. I was accustomed to a different, less violent kind of special. But even on that first day, when I met the boys, I knew that this was where I belonged. It was Pigsley that convinced me to stay. Principal Herman had assured me that he was the furthest thing from violent, and would gladly tell me his story if I asked. It was a tale that revealed itself in all the boys, a tale as old as poverty itself. An abusive home life, rough friends, trouble in school. Some boys as young as nine were drug addicts - some younger, Pigsley told me, but not here. Violence seeping into every facet of their lives, coercion and threats on a daily basis. "It's not the boys that are the problem," Principal Herman told me, "It's the environment they're raised in. They'd be good boys if they had good parents." I was familiar with the self-blame and violent outbursts. These students were less likely to spontaneously burst into flames or tattle on the other kids' thoughts, but were equally unpredictable. "I'll take the job, Principal Herman," I said finally. "Thank you," she said, with a wide smile that I would come to associate with this place and with the boys I taught. "I'm sure you've seen how much we need help." But I didn't see them needing help. What I saw was a group of people with the biggest hearts in the world, and boys who would grow into good young men.	I'll tell you the story of my first day as a volunteer at the Orphanage for Special Children. By the name, I thought it was that kind of special. But, when I met the kids, I learnt why the orphanage had that name. The first kid I met was called Kevin. He lacked hair and had scales all over the skin. He showed to have a chameleon-like tongue when catching a fly mid-air when he was crawling on a wall. The second kid was called Heather. She was wearing fire-proof clothing. When I lowered to her height to shake her hand, she kept herself away from me, saying that "she burns everything she touches". Heather grabbed a piece of paper and it combusted immediately. Heather was always with Natalia, a similar girl with ice-cold breath. Natalia seems to be Heather's sister, and was able to hold her hand without problems. The fourth kid is called Eric. He was a bright boy. His body, except for the eyes, was constantly emitting light. I wonder how he sleeps. Other kids that are met are Katherine, the girl with rabbit ears (she hid them with a hood); Johnny, a boy with gills and webbed hands; Trinity, a paralyzed girl with psychic powers; among others. The day, otherwise, was normal: cleaning the places, preparing their lunch, playing with them, squirting water on Johnny's skin... Then, the bald guy on the wheelchair came. He was interested on the kids, claiming he could help them with their special talents.
	[WP] A water-gun fight between children, told as if it were a horrific war story.	In these modern, civilised times, one would have expected the world to become less brutal. It seems though, that every day we humans think of a new way to unleash agony upon our own species. I witnessed a skirmish today. It was fought between children who were no older than seven or eight. They had been given devastating weapons, capable of unspeakable damage. The weapons spew a vile substance known scientifically as dihydrogen monoxide. These soldiers, though barely more than children, fought with the courage of a thousand men. The atrocities that they had witnessed… I heard a boy scream in agony ”No fair!” as he threw down his weapon and fell on the ground, writhing in unimaginable pain. The leader of the other team, no doubt brainwashed to feel no emotion, stood over the helpless twitching body and delivered the final blow “That’s for tripping me at school, Billy.” The battle was slowly coming to an end as the one team was seizing a strategic point. Then came the artillery. Never in my entire life had I ever witnessed such a massacre. “Balloon fight!” a boy screamed as he launched a blood red shell of destruction at his enemy. They scattered and hopelessly looked to find any form of shelter from the carnage that was raining down upon them from the heavens. “The Battle of Fat Billy’s Yard” was thus concluded, forever to be remembered as one of the most brutal events in the world’s history. Edit: Format and Spelling	"I'm afraid your son is suffering from PTSD" the doctor said blankly. Martha and Jim sat in silence. Martha was barely holding back tears. "It was so terrible, what he must have seen" she whimpered. Her husband embraced her. "We'd like to see him now" he said softly. The doctor walked them down the long, pristine hallway, and into a padded room. Martha broke down in tears at the sight of her son. He sat, in a straight jacket, screaming in terror, and began to scramble into a corner of the room. "It's okay James" Jim said "it's just us". James calmed down slightly, and began speaking in a shaky voice "They broke the rules man, they broke the rules, Andrew got blasted right in the face!" "It's alri-" his father began to say, before being cut off by James' screams: "YOU WEREN"T THERE MAN, YOU DON"T KNOW!" His father backed up, a sad expression on his face. He knew his son would never be the same. But he would get that son of a bitch kid across the street. The rules had been set, but Paulie had decided they didn't apply to him. Now, he was going down, Jim would get revenge for his son. He drew the pistol from his pocket and went to the bathroom sink. "You're going down motherfucker."
	[WP] A water-gun fight between children, told as if it were a horrific war story.	In these modern, civilised times, one would have expected the world to become less brutal. It seems though, that every day we humans think of a new way to unleash agony upon our own species. I witnessed a skirmish today. It was fought between children who were no older than seven or eight. They had been given devastating weapons, capable of unspeakable damage. The weapons spew a vile substance known scientifically as dihydrogen monoxide. These soldiers, though barely more than children, fought with the courage of a thousand men. The atrocities that they had witnessed… I heard a boy scream in agony ”No fair!” as he threw down his weapon and fell on the ground, writhing in unimaginable pain. The leader of the other team, no doubt brainwashed to feel no emotion, stood over the helpless twitching body and delivered the final blow “That’s for tripping me at school, Billy.” The battle was slowly coming to an end as the one team was seizing a strategic point. Then came the artillery. Never in my entire life had I ever witnessed such a massacre. “Balloon fight!” a boy screamed as he launched a blood red shell of destruction at his enemy. They scattered and hopelessly looked to find any form of shelter from the carnage that was raining down upon them from the heavens. “The Battle of Fat Billy’s Yard” was thus concluded, forever to be remembered as one of the most brutal events in the world’s history. Edit: Format and Spelling	Numerous treaties, conventions and agreements between nations, all for the purpose of making war more humane. But as always someone somewhere get's a bright idea and decides that the rules do not apply to them, that they are above them. I mean, after they win the war what's the point right? The means might have been "against the rules" but in the end it's for us, for humanity. In all my seven and a half years on this earth I never gave a second thought to any of it, not before I experienced it first hand. Nobody wants to mess with nuclear weapons, nobody is that dumb. But chemical, now that is another game entirely we people can weasel out of that one. "It's short term", "nobody will know the difference", "a few minutes under the dryer and it'll be fine". but it wasn't. My platoon was stationed near the boarder. Now this is not the kind of boarder that exists only on paper oh no. This one is as real as you and me. A ungodly one and a half meter high divider of worlds. Unpenetrable. Behind it, demon spawns that howl at anything that moves. What aggravates them the most are communications officers who sometimes venture beyond the border. Undoubtedly their suits must be coated with some demon repellent. This time as well, the howls were omnipresent and we used them to our advantage to cover our approach. Our plan was to flank the enemy at their bases weak spot. Well prepared as they were at the front their backs were heavily exposed and most importantly we could assault their ammunition containers. The plan was set and at first it went well. The howls muffled our movements along the border and we approached within three and a half diaper distance of their ammo containers, and then it happened. We couldn't breathe for what seamed like hours. Streams of toxic chemicals was poured upon our bodies. My entire team was screaming for help but to no avail. In the end none of them survived. Only me. Only I was able to make it out alive. To tell the tale of our journey, our struggle. And finally to bring the savages to justice. The world must know. Edited:Spelling
	[WP] The universe of the last video game you played is now your reality.	The desert is hellish. My guide had been telling me ‘another few kilometers’ and ‘just over that hill’ for days now. I had feared he was going to wait until I was starving and dehydrated before he killed me and made off with what little possessions I had brought. The camel trudges lazily under me. At least it wanted to carry me today, we had to take an unscheduled break yesterday because it sat and refused to move; ships of the desert my ass. I had no idea how I got here but after bumbling around for weeks I heard of this place. I had already resigned myself to being trapped here but hearing of these caves has renewed my hope. I had to be crazy though. There was no way I could be where I thought I was but here I am trudging through the desert in a very similar fashion. I am entranced now. ‘I can escape this place’ are the lyrics in my head to the beat of the camel’s hooves. The song is divine. I notice the guide giving me the side eyes from within his head wrapping. My hand instantly strays to my whip before I hear him speak. “Ahhh, there it is. Isn’t it magnificent?” his smooth voice is muffled by his scarf but I’m sure he is smiling. I turn away to behold the cave and am immediately underwhelmed. I realize this tactic; he is trying to get the place to sound better than it is so he can charge me more. Well, whatever. I wasn’t planning to carry much in there anyway, save for four ropes, four bombs, and my trusty whip. “This is where I leave you my friend.” The man says unwrapping his scarf. His white smile blazes brightly, inset into his well browned skin. I study him for a moment before reaching into my camel pack and chucking him what remains of my diminishing finances. He opens the small canvas sack and smiles again. “Ahhh, a good price my friend.” He lifts his head. “I feel for this amount I should give you a warning. There have never been any to return from those caves. That place is cursed, if you value your life, I will guide you back to civilization at no cost.” My eyes bore into the cave as I dismount my camel. The path to my freedom could lay in there. “This is something I should have done long ago, and now that I am here I cannot leave without seeing it through.” I look up at him. “I won’t be returning with you.” He frowns and re-pins his scarf about his mouth. His furrowed eyes shift from the cave entrance to me several times before he reaches his hand down to me. I clasp it, his grip is surprisingly firm. “Good luck my friend.” He says soberly. He turns his camel with a yell and guides it back though the desert. I look back at the cave and start a brisk walk towards it. As I approach I feel a burst of recognition. “As the sun burned bright above, I spotted the caves entrance,” my whispers echo off the walls as I enter, “and felt the gods smiling upon me.” I can only hope they do. I fumble with matches in the dark before I manage to light one. The dim light illuminates a torch on the wall. I look at the quickly dwindling match and snatch the torch out of its perch. It lights easily. “Why didn’t I bring a flashlight?” I mutter to myself as I wander deeper in. A few meters further in, I find an intricately carved wall with several faces inset in it. I run my hand along it and rub the dust between my fingers. Hmm, this is obviously the door but do I puzzle it open? The round head in the center spins upside down and I jump back in surprise. It suddenly stops before a revolution is finished. The wall shudders and cracks as the four pieces slide away from the circular head in different directions. I stare at the face that was in the middle of the wall as it rumbles and slowly drops into the ground. “Well, that was creepy.” I mutter and walk into the darkness. I wander the dark until I approach a smooth stone wall. I tap it with my torch. It sounds very sturdy, I don’t imagine I can just bomb through it. I steady myself with a hand to the wall readying to press an ear on it but it slides up immediately. I startle and drop my torch. There is brilliant light coming from somewhere above me but I can’t figure out what it is so I settle for looking down. There is a single rope that descends from the light and drops down impossibly far. I pick up the torch and hook it on a stand that is placed conveniently next to the door. Grabbing the rope with both hands I start the climb down. “Kali, save me now.” I whisper as I move deeper within. Edit: A word	I don't know how this happened but it's amazing, I mean... I'm different, everything is but it's still amazing. I wouldn't change a thing even though there's a lot to get used to, the feeling of the game is just so amazing. I'm currently flying above a forest and it's weird, the nerves aren't perfect but I can feel the wind blowing past me and my heart racing in a good way. It started a week ago when I was playing SAO: lost song, I had started the game like normal but there was another option at the menu. It said "realism" and it listed the benefits of playing it, they seemed good so I pressed it. I passed out after and woke up looking at the sky, my back felt weird and so did the rest of me so I sat up and looked down at myself. On my feet were pink and black leather boots, there was a skirt with a red leather bag and my hands had gloves on them... I was skinnier too. When I looked around I saw I was in a park in a city, it looked like Central Park almost but the buildings were more fantasy like with a giant twisting tree in the background. I ran to the city part and saw my [reflection](https://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/deathbattle/images/2/2f/Lightning_Transparent_Render.png/revision/latest?cb=20160211225403) then screamed. There were people around and they were looking at me so I ran away until I calmed down. I was looking at my hand and made it fall fast since I was confused and scared then a menu came up in front of me. I realized what it was then I pushed "log out" thinking I'd wake up as myself, I didn't... when I woke up I felt weird still and couldn't see past a screen that was in front of me. When I took it off black hair fell in front of my face, I looked down and was a woman like in the game but wearing a black tank top and black briefs instead. The room I was in looked like a nice apartment with some of the things I had but some things missing, my phone was on the table next to the bed I was on so I picked it up. It had the same music along with more, the games were there but there were some other ones too. The SAO game was missing though, everything was so confusing so I put the phone down and walked around. The room was mostly the same technology wise, there was a hologram alarm clock though. I found a mirror and saw I looked like Melonie Mac, there was a computer and a nice set up in the house so I thought maybe I was her in an alternate world... or maybe my life was merged or something. When I searched my name it said I was a streamer who played Alfhiem Online using an in game camera, it turned out I was just having fun alone in the game when I entered it. I spent the next week getting used to things and even streaming a few times. It's the end of the week and I'm just playing alone, I haven't found a possible way to get back and in a few days the alert on my phone says I'll be bleeding. But this game is kind of worth it, it's amazing and I'm in a farther date in time so I'm sure there's even better stuff to deal with the bleeding. I wouldn't know about the stuff from my time but improvements are usually happening to most things, I'm not too worried. I'd probably stay here if the only choices were my old life and this one.
	[WP] The universe of the last video game you played is now your reality.	I joined for adventure, for the chance to explore, I was a fool. Fuel exhausted. No supplies. Our home a distant memory. The lights dim our power is almost gone. It starts to get cold. We are lost. We are abandoned. We are damned. There is no escape. Trapped in darkness I welcome death. (heh was playing Kerbal Space Program and I have a habit of sending ships out of the solar system never to return)	I don't know how this happened but it's amazing, I mean... I'm different, everything is but it's still amazing. I wouldn't change a thing even though there's a lot to get used to, the feeling of the game is just so amazing. I'm currently flying above a forest and it's weird, the nerves aren't perfect but I can feel the wind blowing past me and my heart racing in a good way. It started a week ago when I was playing SAO: lost song, I had started the game like normal but there was another option at the menu. It said "realism" and it listed the benefits of playing it, they seemed good so I pressed it. I passed out after and woke up looking at the sky, my back felt weird and so did the rest of me so I sat up and looked down at myself. On my feet were pink and black leather boots, there was a skirt with a red leather bag and my hands had gloves on them... I was skinnier too. When I looked around I saw I was in a park in a city, it looked like Central Park almost but the buildings were more fantasy like with a giant twisting tree in the background. I ran to the city part and saw my [reflection](https://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/deathbattle/images/2/2f/Lightning_Transparent_Render.png/revision/latest?cb=20160211225403) then screamed. There were people around and they were looking at me so I ran away until I calmed down. I was looking at my hand and made it fall fast since I was confused and scared then a menu came up in front of me. I realized what it was then I pushed "log out" thinking I'd wake up as myself, I didn't... when I woke up I felt weird still and couldn't see past a screen that was in front of me. When I took it off black hair fell in front of my face, I looked down and was a woman like in the game but wearing a black tank top and black briefs instead. The room I was in looked like a nice apartment with some of the things I had but some things missing, my phone was on the table next to the bed I was on so I picked it up. It had the same music along with more, the games were there but there were some other ones too. The SAO game was missing though, everything was so confusing so I put the phone down and walked around. The room was mostly the same technology wise, there was a hologram alarm clock though. I found a mirror and saw I looked like Melonie Mac, there was a computer and a nice set up in the house so I thought maybe I was her in an alternate world... or maybe my life was merged or something. When I searched my name it said I was a streamer who played Alfhiem Online using an in game camera, it turned out I was just having fun alone in the game when I entered it. I spent the next week getting used to things and even streaming a few times. It's the end of the week and I'm just playing alone, I haven't found a possible way to get back and in a few days the alert on my phone says I'll be bleeding. But this game is kind of worth it, it's amazing and I'm in a farther date in time so I'm sure there's even better stuff to deal with the bleeding. I wouldn't know about the stuff from my time but improvements are usually happening to most things, I'm not too worried. I'd probably stay here if the only choices were my old life and this one.

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