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credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	"You know that's not how any of this works, right?" said Bob, captain of the mission control team. "What?" replied the disgruntled astronaut. "I know I was being casual with the "you guys are back early," but you do realize none of this works that way, right? We coordinated your safe return because you insisted it was an emergency. Now that you're back, all you're going to say is "moon's haunted" and leave? You do realize this spaceship can't even go back anymore, right? We'd need to perform weeks of maintenance and safety checks. Hell, it doesn't even have any fuel! Where the hell are your teammates? How did you even get a gun? This is a space center, for crying out loud! Did you murder them all? What the fuck is the matter with you?" "You are right. Sorry, I don't know what came over me."	Jim peered at the astronaut waving the gun around and scratched his head. "Um, your gun won't work in space. "You of all people should know that." He took a step back. "Is that so?" Then a blood curdling smile formed across Richard's lips, as he stood in the shuttle wearing his silver ionic suit, pointing the gun to the floor. He reached for his own gun and pointed it at him. "After four years at Cornell, a PhD in theoretical physics, and the rigors of NASA testing, I would think you'd know that by now." His body trembled. "Who are you and what have you done with Richard?" Richard laughed and his voice echoed throughout the hollow shuttle. Where is everyone? The astronaut dropped his revolver and Jim managed to steady his shaky hands. The spaceman paced back and forth in slow deliberate steps, as if making a casual phone call back home. "Oh Jim, Jim, Jim." Jim keeps his gun trained him. "You are a smart cookie, well, at least smarter than the others." "Where are they?" Richard turned and bared his teeth at Jim; his were no longer human, but the house of long needle-like fangs. Then the skin of his eyelids began to peel at the cornea, showing velvet red flesh, revealed by the curled and shriveled up skin. Richard, or rather the creature before him, took a step closer to. "Stay back, or so help me..." His voice repeated back to him in the echo chamber of the shuttle - where dozens of assistants, co-workers, and astronauts once walked. He shrieked. "Where are they?" This time his hands were trembling so badly, he wasn’t sure he could aim right. The creature closed its mouth and the sharp pointed edges of his teeth pierced through his upper and lower lips and fleshy cheeks, squirting blood in the mangled mess of flesh, like a metal porcupine exploding in his mouth. He collapsed to the floor with a thud, leaving a smear of blood at the scalp and a pool oozing from his mouth. Slowly, sweat sliding down his forehead, Jim lowered his gun and walked over to the body that was laid in the pool of blood. The skin still peeled from the eyes down the cheeks, curling. A deafening voice boomed through the shuttles and Jim put his hands to his ears. "You're the only one who figured it out and for that, you get a reward." Jim looked around and the room became completely silent. Metal creaked down the hall like the grating of iron. He jumped, and turned to the source; it was the North wing hall that led to the main room he's in now. Under the pale fluorescent light, he saw Julia and Jared meander toward him with dozens of the other crew members behind them. He smiled and took a step toward them."Oh thank god I've found you guys. Richard is-" Jim stopped in his tracks and his heartbeat skyrocketed. His fingertips were slippery against each other and lubricated with a cold sweat. Before him were not at all the crew members he knew. Julia was topless with nothing but a skirt on, and running from her arms down to her mid chest and stomach, was chicken wire sewed and interwoven into the flesh. Her lips were closed shut with the prickly wire. Beside her, Jared walked in a drunken stupor with vacant eyes and an ax nested firmly in his head. The entire crowd of them walked lazily toward Jim; some of them were too terrible and too hideous for his mind to grasp. He dropped to his knees, gripping at the roots of his hair and pulled. Once I blink this will all be over. Once I blink this will all be over. He blinked once. Twice. Three times. But the crowd of inhuman creatures only came closer. Julia was only a few feet away from him and extended her arm out. Jim looked through the surface of her vacant grey eyes and saw fiery embers and heard the screams of a thousand people in the burning lake of hell. He screamed. "What's happening? Who are you people? What's going on?" Then the deafening voice returned. "We are the demons you Christians cast out long ago in the dark ages." It's sheer force grinded the metal of the ship and Jim cowered. All the creatures stopped to listen. "You thought you destroyed us with your exorcisms and sacraments, but your spells only sent us out to the moon. Oh, but we've been watching you from afar and we intend to go back, now that Christianity is dead and atheism is alive and well!" The ground shook from beneath. "Nothing can stop us, now that we have hosts to go back with. I say, a celebration is in order as my fellow demons are getting a bit hungry." "No, no, no!" Jim scooted back, but Julia was the first to grab him and pin him down. The rest mob him and lunge forward; the demons ripped his flesh apart as he screamed in agony, drinking the blood and savoring the meaty taste of his flesh. They finished him. The corpse that was Richard's rose from it's crumpled position on the floor. It looked at the demons in their mangled bodies, covered in blood. "Set course for earth." He raised his fist in the air. "We will exact bloodshed on humanity. And may Jesus Christ be damned!" The demons roared in applause.
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	"You know that's not how any of this works, right?" said Bob, captain of the mission control team. "What?" replied the disgruntled astronaut. "I know I was being casual with the "you guys are back early," but you do realize none of this works that way, right? We coordinated your safe return because you insisted it was an emergency. Now that you're back, all you're going to say is "moon's haunted" and leave? You do realize this spaceship can't even go back anymore, right? We'd need to perform weeks of maintenance and safety checks. Hell, it doesn't even have any fuel! Where the hell are your teammates? How did you even get a gun? This is a space center, for crying out loud! Did you murder them all? What the fuck is the matter with you?" "You are right. Sorry, I don't know what came over me."	Lemme go ahead and stop ya right there. Newton and his third law would like to have a word with you. With far fewer intergalactic atoms to hold yourself in place, you're far more likely to do more damage pistol whipping yourself with all that recoil you're gonna get than what that round you fire is ever gonna do. Even then no amount of arms training under the conditions set by the physics we have here on Earth will ensure that round ever makes it to its target if you're taking that gun to the moon. Better off taking cattle prods with you... Sorry if I bursted your space bubble.
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	"You know that's not how any of this works, right?" said Bob, captain of the mission control team. "What?" replied the disgruntled astronaut. "I know I was being casual with the "you guys are back early," but you do realize none of this works that way, right? We coordinated your safe return because you insisted it was an emergency. Now that you're back, all you're going to say is "moon's haunted" and leave? You do realize this spaceship can't even go back anymore, right? We'd need to perform weeks of maintenance and safety checks. Hell, it doesn't even have any fuel! Where the hell are your teammates? How did you even get a gun? This is a space center, for crying out loud! Did you murder them all? What the fuck is the matter with you?" "You are right. Sorry, I don't know what came over me."	I looked at Colonel McLeod as he got back in the ship. The absurdity of it all had shocked me to the point of inaction. It only took a moment to regain my senses. I began to bang on the door. "Yo! Absolutely not! No guns!" The door swung open. Colonel McLeod strutted out like a man used to kicking ass and taking names. He looked down at me through his space-o-visor with the penisiesty look I'd ever seen. "And why not?" he grunted through his cigar. "Because, sir" , I sneered. "Ghosts are already dead, dipshit. Conventional fire arms are ineffective. Take one of the proton accelerators to immobilize and an electro-magnetic trap for containment." I threw a thumb to the closet behind us. Colonel McLeod shifted his gaze between the closet and the space-o-pistol. "Oh, OK."
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	The moon had sat evacuated for months. The ghosts of the dead had lived on the moon for millennia. The base finally allowed them to take tangible form. To begin the ritual. As he rose forth, the moon shuddered. A portal opened. The ritual continued. A hand crawled out of the void that had appeared. One of the ghosts paused. His younger years detected something. Satan heard it too. Dragging himself out of the pit, he made an effort to rise faster so he may face the dread foe. Satan spoke. "HE IS COMING. DEFEND YOURSELVES." The young ghosts face went pale. He turned to the other ghosts. A green blur could be seen rapidly advancing towards the base in the distance. The ghost spoke as the blur became clear. A man. In green armor. Holding a shotgun. "Do you guys hear heavy metal?" The young ghost said. And then the man smashed through the window. And all hell broke loose.	I stormed up to him. "Mike, you do this every goddamn time!" The man with the gun turned with jutting eyeballs as distant and cold as the moon itself. The veteran pilot licked his lips. "Moon's haunted, son." “Who’s it this time, huh? Armstrong’s ghost insisting the moon landing was real?” “Don’t be stupid.” His gaze lingered before him. I stood there, feeling immensely alone as everyone else paraded about their jobs, thinking this shit was as normal and unassuming as the clear blue sky stretched above us. None of us could imagine who in their right mind would send this guy back up to space, especially after the way he returned from this last mission. But the order had been made, so giving it any further through was no longer in my jurisdiction. I felt a hand relax itself on my shoulder. It wore a brilliantly red jeweled ring on its slender forefinger. A woman’s voice chuckled at me, making me turn. "Just leave him be, Wilson. He'll snap out of it once his fluid redistributes." Mary's voice spoke calmly. The woman was a standing beacon of calm. Every pilot hoped to be paired with her, if not for her easy looks, then at least for her easy sounding voice. Even now her tone helped me quiet my tune a little, but then I saw how geared up she was. My mouth went sticky. "No. Don't tell me." "Before you jump to conclusions-“ "You're going with him?" “I volunteered." "And they let you? The guy's obviously lost his marbles! He’s bringing a gun with him!" "He keeps me entertained." Her intelligent brown eyes smiled at me. "You think that's so easy to do in space?" I tried to open my mouth, I tried to object, but within the minute I instead found myself standing before the shuttle with our whole team. Mutterings of Michael Shawn’s insanity permeated in our group, but no one said anything outright. After all, this was the Michael Shawn. And the order had been made. Mike ushered Mary close to himself. She kindly lowered her ear to him. "Stay close to me,” he rasped. “And be careful what you think. They can read minds.” I groaned loudly, which, in my defense, took a fair amount of guts. Any demonstration of objection always pissed off the Commander, and considering that she had organized this mission herself only furthered the insult. But it seemed no one had heard me over the mechanical whirring and loud engines revving throughout the entire floor, so I kept my eye down. Mary happily bid her farewell to her family watching from the screen, and stepped inside the shuttle after him and the rest of the crew. "Careful where you point that, Mikey. Save it for the ghosts, ok?" "Yes, of course" he said, robotically. "Atta boy," she grinned. At this point I was at the entrance myself, seeing them off. I pulled her aside for only a moment. "Don't encourage him. Don't f\\\*ing encourage him." Mike’s voice reverberated. "Someone help me prepare the ghost catching net!" I kept my eyes on her. "He shouldn't be doing this. The guy's obviously not of sound mind." "He's the only one who can help us on this mission, Wilson. You know that.” She eased herself out of my grip, which I hadn’t even realized was around her forearm. I let go, unable to hide my embarrassment, until Mike came by one last time and gave me a cold, hard stare. “Crew members only from here on out, son. And you’re not a crewmember, are ya?” My face went to steel. “Whoa, was that a logical thought?” The snide remark only rewarded me with impatient stares. After nodding my goodbye, I returned to my post near the base of the shuttle, and wished them all goodluck. The shuttle went off. The farewells and celebrations ensued. I guess I would’ve taken it more seriously if I realized I’d never see her again.
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	The base went on lockdown after the astronauts took hostages. Nobody expected them to go this far. They were mentally unstable. That much was obvious from the start. Deputy Director Anderson couldn't believe they had the gall to end their mission early. His dismay only grew when the crew begged to return with weaponry. These were trained military personnel and scientists. They shouldn't be talking about vague supernatural phenomena up in the moon. Anderson didn't know what to make of it. It would help if they were specific about the threat but, whenever they were interrogated, they did everything in their power to avoid details. Almost like talking about it would make it worse. Anderson shivered. Did the cosmic radiation fry their brains? It was the only reasonable explanation. They kept repeating that they were running out of time. Anderson dismissed it as the ravings of lunatics, but they all stuck to the same story, even though they were separated as soon as they landed. One of them, Captain Frisco, broke out of his holding cell, killing two men. He then freed the others and took over the launching station with their help. Rocket fuel was their trump card. They improvised some explosives, threatening to detonate the entire cache of refined kerosene if their demands weren't met. The explosion would demolish half the base. Anderson ordered a squad to neutralize them. He wasn't going to negotiate over something this ridiculous. That turned out to be a deadly decision. The crew members somehow disemboweled the entire squadron. Anderson gagged when he saw the aftermath. It should've been impossible. The astronauts weren't people anymore. This could only be done by monsters. The situation only escalated when the public caught wind of it. Details were kept tight, but the lockdown was leaked to news outlets. At least they didn't know about the murders. It took a day for Anderson to swallow his pride and open a line of communication with them. He wasn't going to give them what they wanted, obviously, but he needed to do something before things got worse. In the end, he convinced them to allow food to be sent for them and the hostages. This was all a ruse, though. The delivery people were disguised soldiers. Snipers were perched on the opposite rooftop, waiting for a clear shot. Even if they failed, the food was drugged with a cocktail of muscle relaxants and sleep aids. Anderson wasn't taking any chances. It needed to end here. Everyone in the room fell quiet when the operation started. With every step the 'delivery people' took, Anderson's heart rate climbed higher and higher. The disguised soldiers opened the door. The crew wasn't there. Anderson widened his eyes. His body trembled out of control. He immediately contacted the snipers. They were already dead. How?!? Anderson didn't have time to react. A shot was fired down the hallway, followed by a gut-wrenching scream. They were coming for him. Five men aimed their rifles at the door. Anderson hid behind his desk. The door was blown off its hinges. The men unloaded their weapons. Silence. Anderson raised his head, peeking out of the desk. Captain Frisco stood tall, surrounded by five corpses. His left eye bulged out of its socket, corrupted by a nauseating yellow tint. He was riddled with bullets. The wounds should've been fatal. Captain Frisco took slow, deliberate steps forward. Anderson whimpered. Captain Frisco grabbed him by the neck, lifting him with one arm. "Please!" shouted Anderson. "Don't kill me! I'm begging!" "You... you fool!" Captain Frisco coughed, vomiting black ichor. "Give the order!" "W-what?!?" "The crew is already on the ship! Send them! Now!" "Yes! Okay!" Anderson took a radio and gave the command. After a minute of being held, fearing for his life, the ship lifted off without a problem. Captain Frisco released the deputy director. "Why are you going this far?" said Anderson. "You've sentenced them to death." Captain Frisco winced, clutching his head. He seemed in pain. "There... are... worse... fates." "Then tell me! We can't do anything about it if we don't know!" Captain Frisco welled up with tears. "We... we must." He sobbed. "It's the... the... mgepogg r'luhhor c' ephaiah'uh'enah if c' don't f' ah'n'gha ehyeog." A tentacle sprouted out of his mouth. Anderson fell on the floor, screaming. Ten soldiers rushed inside. They opened fire on Captain Frisco. He killed three of them with a swipe of his new appendage. The remaining soldiers finally subdued him. Captain Frisco was dead. Anderson couldn't believe what he just saw. A few hours later, the ship lost contact with the base. It was never seen again. The hostages were fine. None of them were injured. Apparently, the crew had been stalling to prepare the ship. It still didn't make any sense. The autopsy report showed that Frisco's tentacle was some sort of mutation. The leading hypothesis suggested that some unknown energy had altered his DNA. His body was tougher than anything on Earth. They needed a laser just to dissect him. Information about this incident was immediately suppressed. Witnesses were bribed and threatened to keep quiet for the rest of their lives. Anderson didn't need much motivation to go along with this request. He wanted to never remember it again. Whatever was up there, humanity was better off not knowing about it. -------- >If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading!	There was an extraordinarily lengthy period of silence following this particular statement. It had been decades since humanity had set foot on the moon, and trillions of dollars had since been spent building the complex technology required to sustainably and regularly return. An entire fleet of reusable rocket ships had been stockpiled, a new lunar space station with plentiful fuel storage had only recently completed construction, and a vast network of support satellites were in place to provide constant communication and positioning data. No expense had been spared in pursuit of this grand adventure, no stone un-turned in the name of science and progress. The greatest of minds had been assembled from all across the world, a wealth of talent surrounding an astronaut program of a caliber well and truly beyond what had ever been managed before it. "Moon's haunted." Truly, there was no more colossal of a fuck-up in the history of rocketry. "The Moon... is haunted?" "Moon's haunted." "I'm sorry, run this by me again. We're talking in the same language, right? These words mean the same thing to both of us, right? This isn't just some prank?" "Moon's haunted." "Brian. We just spent forty two billion dollars preempting television in one hundred and fifty seven countries. We built an entire space station, we've been deploying satellites and probes for decades in advance, the best scientific minds have been constantly pouring over mountains of data." "Moon's haunted." "And you think a gun is going to help with that?! Are the ghosts allergic to lead? This doesn't make any sense!" "Moon's haunted." "Listen, I cover for a lot of your shit, okay? But this time? No, Tim's not helping you. We're federal government employees, Brian! Do you know what they're going to do to us?" "Moon's." "Well. Probably nothing, honestly, but think of all the paperwork! Good lord, the paperwork!" "Haunted." "Look. Your ship is out of fuel, you're wearing a bag that's filled with the last three days of your own poop, and there's a world full of people out there that are going to want to know why you just turned right around and went home the second that you landed. We can't just tell those people that the moon is haunted, okay? We can't let an armed astronaut go on the stage and just endlessly repeat that the moon is haunted." "Why not?" "Because then we'll have to explain where the bodies came from!"
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	"What do you mean, the Moon's haunted?" "It's haunted, all right? Just trust me. I saw it with my own eyes. You remember Nickelson? That sonofabitch with the bad haircut and the little dog? Or maybe it was his wife's little dog. Anyway. I saw him. But he was dead. And red. And floating. Look, it was a whole thing, ok? But the moon's haunted and we gotta do something about it because if we don't, they're gonna come here, and I don't know about you, but Earth's kinda where my keep my stuff, and I definitely don't want these guys messing with it." "Sir..." "I mean, yeah, look, I know this isn't how we usually do things, but if you'll just fill 'er up and send me back, I can handle it. I've got the coordinates for that...uh, triangle light gate thing and...I'll just pop on through there and shoot 'em. That should take care of it. Yeah, that's a plan. We'll roll with that for now, you can send backup after me." "Sir, if you'd just listen to..." "Look, you need to listen to ME, all right? I saw them. It was real. And, let me tell you, it was seriously, seriously messed up. Like...seriously messed up. We have to do something about that. Now. Like, right now. So stop stalling and just..." "...sir?" "...it occurs to me that this is not a real rocketship." "We call them landers, but, no, sir, it's not." "I wasn't on the moon, was I?" "No, sir, you weren't." "You're right, I wasn't on the Moon, because I was right here in the Johnson Space Center, in the good ol' U. S. of A., and we were running a test simulation of fuel leak, which I might have replaced that plain ol' stinky stuff with something a bit more, uh, fun, just as a joke, you know, but I remember doing that, because I am one hundred percent not insane." "...that is a real gun, though." "Uh, yes, it appears that it is. I...any chance you could have pretended, um, not to see that?" "I'm afraid not, sir." "Shoot. Well, I guess I failed the screening, huh?" "Rather spectacularly, sir. The MPs on their way. I suggest you disarm yourself before they get here." "Damn it." "Why did you bring a weapon to a test sim anyway?" "Well, that, Lieutenant, is a very long and complicated story that -- since I'm washing out anyway -- I would be more than happy to tell you over dinner." "Absolutely not." "Hey...I'll tell ya how I snuck it in here, too. Here's a hint -- it definitely involved my pants." "Is that security? Finally. Buzz them through, please." "Can't blame a man for trying. Well, maybe you can. Hey, fellas! Look, this has all just been a big misunderstanding..."	There was an extraordinarily lengthy period of silence following this particular statement. It had been decades since humanity had set foot on the moon, and trillions of dollars had since been spent building the complex technology required to sustainably and regularly return. An entire fleet of reusable rocket ships had been stockpiled, a new lunar space station with plentiful fuel storage had only recently completed construction, and a vast network of support satellites were in place to provide constant communication and positioning data. No expense had been spared in pursuit of this grand adventure, no stone un-turned in the name of science and progress. The greatest of minds had been assembled from all across the world, a wealth of talent surrounding an astronaut program of a caliber well and truly beyond what had ever been managed before it. "Moon's haunted." Truly, there was no more colossal of a fuck-up in the history of rocketry. "The Moon... is haunted?" "Moon's haunted." "I'm sorry, run this by me again. We're talking in the same language, right? These words mean the same thing to both of us, right? This isn't just some prank?" "Moon's haunted." "Brian. We just spent forty two billion dollars preempting television in one hundred and fifty seven countries. We built an entire space station, we've been deploying satellites and probes for decades in advance, the best scientific minds have been constantly pouring over mountains of data." "Moon's haunted." "And you think a gun is going to help with that?! Are the ghosts allergic to lead? This doesn't make any sense!" "Moon's haunted." "Listen, I cover for a lot of your shit, okay? But this time? No, Tim's not helping you. We're federal government employees, Brian! Do you know what they're going to do to us?" "Moon's." "Well. Probably nothing, honestly, but think of all the paperwork! Good lord, the paperwork!" "Haunted." "Look. Your ship is out of fuel, you're wearing a bag that's filled with the last three days of your own poop, and there's a world full of people out there that are going to want to know why you just turned right around and went home the second that you landed. We can't just tell those people that the moon is haunted, okay? We can't let an armed astronaut go on the stage and just endlessly repeat that the moon is haunted." "Why not?" "Because then we'll have to explain where the bodies came from!"
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	The moon had sat evacuated for months. The ghosts of the dead had lived on the moon for millennia. The base finally allowed them to take tangible form. To begin the ritual. As he rose forth, the moon shuddered. A portal opened. The ritual continued. A hand crawled out of the void that had appeared. One of the ghosts paused. His younger years detected something. Satan heard it too. Dragging himself out of the pit, he made an effort to rise faster so he may face the dread foe. Satan spoke. "HE IS COMING. DEFEND YOURSELVES." The young ghosts face went pale. He turned to the other ghosts. A green blur could be seen rapidly advancing towards the base in the distance. The ghost spoke as the blur became clear. A man. In green armor. Holding a shotgun. "Do you guys hear heavy metal?" The young ghost said. And then the man smashed through the window. And all hell broke loose.	There was an extraordinarily lengthy period of silence following this particular statement. It had been decades since humanity had set foot on the moon, and trillions of dollars had since been spent building the complex technology required to sustainably and regularly return. An entire fleet of reusable rocket ships had been stockpiled, a new lunar space station with plentiful fuel storage had only recently completed construction, and a vast network of support satellites were in place to provide constant communication and positioning data. No expense had been spared in pursuit of this grand adventure, no stone un-turned in the name of science and progress. The greatest of minds had been assembled from all across the world, a wealth of talent surrounding an astronaut program of a caliber well and truly beyond what had ever been managed before it. "Moon's haunted." Truly, there was no more colossal of a fuck-up in the history of rocketry. "The Moon... is haunted?" "Moon's haunted." "I'm sorry, run this by me again. We're talking in the same language, right? These words mean the same thing to both of us, right? This isn't just some prank?" "Moon's haunted." "Brian. We just spent forty two billion dollars preempting television in one hundred and fifty seven countries. We built an entire space station, we've been deploying satellites and probes for decades in advance, the best scientific minds have been constantly pouring over mountains of data." "Moon's haunted." "And you think a gun is going to help with that?! Are the ghosts allergic to lead? This doesn't make any sense!" "Moon's haunted." "Listen, I cover for a lot of your shit, okay? But this time? No, Tim's not helping you. We're federal government employees, Brian! Do you know what they're going to do to us?" "Moon's." "Well. Probably nothing, honestly, but think of all the paperwork! Good lord, the paperwork!" "Haunted." "Look. Your ship is out of fuel, you're wearing a bag that's filled with the last three days of your own poop, and there's a world full of people out there that are going to want to know why you just turned right around and went home the second that you landed. We can't just tell those people that the moon is haunted, okay? We can't let an armed astronaut go on the stage and just endlessly repeat that the moon is haunted." "Why not?" "Because then we'll have to explain where the bodies came from!"
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	"What do you mean, the Moon's haunted?" "It's haunted, all right? Just trust me. I saw it with my own eyes. You remember Nickelson? That sonofabitch with the bad haircut and the little dog? Or maybe it was his wife's little dog. Anyway. I saw him. But he was dead. And red. And floating. Look, it was a whole thing, ok? But the moon's haunted and we gotta do something about it because if we don't, they're gonna come here, and I don't know about you, but Earth's kinda where my keep my stuff, and I definitely don't want these guys messing with it." "Sir..." "I mean, yeah, look, I know this isn't how we usually do things, but if you'll just fill 'er up and send me back, I can handle it. I've got the coordinates for that...uh, triangle light gate thing and...I'll just pop on through there and shoot 'em. That should take care of it. Yeah, that's a plan. We'll roll with that for now, you can send backup after me." "Sir, if you'd just listen to..." "Look, you need to listen to ME, all right? I saw them. It was real. And, let me tell you, it was seriously, seriously messed up. Like...seriously messed up. We have to do something about that. Now. Like, right now. So stop stalling and just..." "...sir?" "...it occurs to me that this is not a real rocketship." "We call them landers, but, no, sir, it's not." "I wasn't on the moon, was I?" "No, sir, you weren't." "You're right, I wasn't on the Moon, because I was right here in the Johnson Space Center, in the good ol' U. S. of A., and we were running a test simulation of fuel leak, which I might have replaced that plain ol' stinky stuff with something a bit more, uh, fun, just as a joke, you know, but I remember doing that, because I am one hundred percent not insane." "...that is a real gun, though." "Uh, yes, it appears that it is. I...any chance you could have pretended, um, not to see that?" "I'm afraid not, sir." "Shoot. Well, I guess I failed the screening, huh?" "Rather spectacularly, sir. The MPs on their way. I suggest you disarm yourself before they get here." "Damn it." "Why did you bring a weapon to a test sim anyway?" "Well, that, Lieutenant, is a very long and complicated story that -- since I'm washing out anyway -- I would be more than happy to tell you over dinner." "Absolutely not." "Hey...I'll tell ya how I snuck it in here, too. Here's a hint -- it definitely involved my pants." "Is that security? Finally. Buzz them through, please." "Can't blame a man for trying. Well, maybe you can. Hey, fellas! Look, this has all just been a big misunderstanding..."	“Don’t worry. I got this.” Dirk says strapping a sawed-off to his back. Hector, the first year engineer dives behind a table. “Where’d that come from?” He pleads. “It shoots salt. Might bruise you a little, but wont kill.” Hector pops up from behind the table, “Salt?”. “Yeah for the ghosts, specters, and ghouls that haunt the moon.” Dirk said with no waiver in his voice. “Why don’t you sit down for a while. Long trip, right?” Hector pulls out a chair for him. “No time. You should load up too.” Dirk said tossing a large white duffle bag to Hector. “Me?” Hector points to himself mouth agape. “Yeah man. Its go time… You must be new.” “I’ve been here 8 months!” Hector protested. “Not long enough. N.A.S.A. National Anti-Supernatural Administration.” Dirk punctuated each word with a raising count on his hand. “Sir, why don’t you put the gun down. I think you might be experiencing some side effects to your travel.” Hector pushed the chair toward Dirk. The lights turn red and a voice comes over the loudspeaker: “This is not a drill, I repeat this is NOT a drill. All employees please report to your desks for immediate briefings. We have found hell, and it’s not on Earth.” Hector looks at Dirk. “Well, you heard them. Hop to it.” Hector stampedes through the hallway pinballing off his fellow employees. Sitting on his desk is a brand new tablet. He sits. The screen lights up. What is your name? Flashes across the screen. Hector Alonso types in his name. The words melt toward the bottom of the screen and pool up to form a button. Thumb Print Please, arched around the top. “Cool,” Hector said. He couldn’t remember seeing anything like this in the r/D lab. He put his thumb to the button. A tiny barb pricks his finger. He pulls his hand away with an “Ow”. Droplets of blood form on his fingertip. Sorry! Flashes across the screen. Identity confirmed: Hector Alonso. Position: Research and Development Trainee. Vitals: Strong. Aptitude Score: 77. “77!” Hector scoffs. The text wipes off and a live feed of Dirk begins. Sitting on the table before him is a large container of salt, a bucket of empty capsules, and a funnel. His fists dug into the wood, as he leans over the items. “For the uninitiated, I bet you have tons of questions. Including who I am. I am Dirk Kaggsworth lead piolet for the Trojan expeditions. First, let me assure you aliens are not real. Or at least not what you would traditionally consider an alien. But there is stuff out there. And it is a threat. Every day we here at NASA, the National Anti-Supernatural Administration, make sure that the people of this great nation are safe from extraterrestrial threat. And today we have discovered the motherload. On our last mission to the moon, we had an expedition to the dark side. There we found the entrance to a lair or base that these E.T.s operate from. Our scouts were unable to identify how large the structure was. About now you might be asking yourself how all this pertains to you. We are launching a full-scale infiltration of their Moonbase, and need all the help we can get. If your vitals are in good standing and you had an aptitude score of 15 or higher, we would like to take you along. If you wish to accept, meet in the cafeteria in 30 minutes and bring whatever personal items you will need. For those that don’t meet the requirements, rest assured there is still work to be done at home. The first thing all of you need to know is how to load a salt gun.” Dirk opens the end of a capsule from the bucket and puts it under the funnel. “3 grams of salt is all you need.” He puts a spoon into the container of salt and pours it into the funnel. “If you can do that, you can help. And I know all of you can.” He seals the capsule and inserts it into a magazine. From under the table, he pulls out what looks like a metallic nerf gun. The magazine clicks into place. “Let’s lock and load.”
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	The moon had sat evacuated for months. The ghosts of the dead had lived on the moon for millennia. The base finally allowed them to take tangible form. To begin the ritual. As he rose forth, the moon shuddered. A portal opened. The ritual continued. A hand crawled out of the void that had appeared. One of the ghosts paused. His younger years detected something. Satan heard it too. Dragging himself out of the pit, he made an effort to rise faster so he may face the dread foe. Satan spoke. "HE IS COMING. DEFEND YOURSELVES." The young ghosts face went pale. He turned to the other ghosts. A green blur could be seen rapidly advancing towards the base in the distance. The ghost spoke as the blur became clear. A man. In green armor. Holding a shotgun. "Do you guys hear heavy metal?" The young ghost said. And then the man smashed through the window. And all hell broke loose.	“Don’t worry. I got this.” Dirk says strapping a sawed-off to his back. Hector, the first year engineer dives behind a table. “Where’d that come from?” He pleads. “It shoots salt. Might bruise you a little, but wont kill.” Hector pops up from behind the table, “Salt?”. “Yeah for the ghosts, specters, and ghouls that haunt the moon.” Dirk said with no waiver in his voice. “Why don’t you sit down for a while. Long trip, right?” Hector pulls out a chair for him. “No time. You should load up too.” Dirk said tossing a large white duffle bag to Hector. “Me?” Hector points to himself mouth agape. “Yeah man. Its go time… You must be new.” “I’ve been here 8 months!” Hector protested. “Not long enough. N.A.S.A. National Anti-Supernatural Administration.” Dirk punctuated each word with a raising count on his hand. “Sir, why don’t you put the gun down. I think you might be experiencing some side effects to your travel.” Hector pushed the chair toward Dirk. The lights turn red and a voice comes over the loudspeaker: “This is not a drill, I repeat this is NOT a drill. All employees please report to your desks for immediate briefings. We have found hell, and it’s not on Earth.” Hector looks at Dirk. “Well, you heard them. Hop to it.” Hector stampedes through the hallway pinballing off his fellow employees. Sitting on his desk is a brand new tablet. He sits. The screen lights up. What is your name? Flashes across the screen. Hector Alonso types in his name. The words melt toward the bottom of the screen and pool up to form a button. Thumb Print Please, arched around the top. “Cool,” Hector said. He couldn’t remember seeing anything like this in the r/D lab. He put his thumb to the button. A tiny barb pricks his finger. He pulls his hand away with an “Ow”. Droplets of blood form on his fingertip. Sorry! Flashes across the screen. Identity confirmed: Hector Alonso. Position: Research and Development Trainee. Vitals: Strong. Aptitude Score: 77. “77!” Hector scoffs. The text wipes off and a live feed of Dirk begins. Sitting on the table before him is a large container of salt, a bucket of empty capsules, and a funnel. His fists dug into the wood, as he leans over the items. “For the uninitiated, I bet you have tons of questions. Including who I am. I am Dirk Kaggsworth lead piolet for the Trojan expeditions. First, let me assure you aliens are not real. Or at least not what you would traditionally consider an alien. But there is stuff out there. And it is a threat. Every day we here at NASA, the National Anti-Supernatural Administration, make sure that the people of this great nation are safe from extraterrestrial threat. And today we have discovered the motherload. On our last mission to the moon, we had an expedition to the dark side. There we found the entrance to a lair or base that these E.T.s operate from. Our scouts were unable to identify how large the structure was. About now you might be asking yourself how all this pertains to you. We are launching a full-scale infiltration of their Moonbase, and need all the help we can get. If your vitals are in good standing and you had an aptitude score of 15 or higher, we would like to take you along. If you wish to accept, meet in the cafeteria in 30 minutes and bring whatever personal items you will need. For those that don’t meet the requirements, rest assured there is still work to be done at home. The first thing all of you need to know is how to load a salt gun.” Dirk opens the end of a capsule from the bucket and puts it under the funnel. “3 grams of salt is all you need.” He puts a spoon into the container of salt and pours it into the funnel. “If you can do that, you can help. And I know all of you can.” He seals the capsule and inserts it into a magazine. From under the table, he pulls out what looks like a metallic nerf gun. The magazine clicks into place. “Let’s lock and load.”
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	"Then why are you going back?" Fred shouted. Richard wasn't looking back. "You're going back? Where's Greg? Why are you taking a pistol?" Fred said and ran after him. "Too many questions. I don't have much time," Richard said, stepping inside the Rocket ship. He tried to close the door, but Fred had already caught up. He was grabbing onto it's handle, preventing Richard from closing it. "I'm coming along," Fred said. He knew it wasn't the wisest idea, but what was he going to do? Sit at the observatory and wait for Richard to come back with even more crazy news? "You haven't bought your supplies," Richard said with a blank expression on his face. "There's a spare suit in the inventory. Let me in," Fred said, barging his way in. "If we run out of oxywater, I'm not giving you my spare bottle," Fred said, locking the door. He seemed visibly annoyed but Fred didn't have any other options. He ran to the inventory to suit up because he knew Richard wouldn't wait for him to get ready. Just like he predicted, the floor of the inventory started shaking vigorously while he put on his space suit and struggled to maintain his balance. When he returned to the front, he saw the rocket leaving Earth's atmosphere. Richard seemed to be focused on flying the ship. It was either that or he just pretended to be unaware of Fred standing beside him. "So, are you going to tell me where Greg is? And what's with moon being haunted?" "Do you remember the last time we went there to mine kinxium?" "Yes, but that was years ago. We made many trips since then," Fred said, trying to remember the relevance of that trip. "Do you remember how Greg almost fell over a ditch and we lost him for two days?" "Yes. But that's normal. People go missing during mining trips all the time," "Yes, but not for two days. I disobeyed protocol and went towards the Kinxium site today" "You shouldn't be doing that, Richard. You know how the boss hates-" Fred stopped talking as Richard raised a hand. The Rocket ship was making its landing on the moon. Richard got up from his seat and grabbed the pistol. As the Rocket landed, Fred saw Greg waving his hands and floating nearby, waiting for them. Fred was relieved to see Greg. At least he was all right. Richard moved towards the door and looked at Fred. He spoke in a whisper, as if he didn't want anyone else to overhear them. "When I went over to the Kinxium site, I found Greg's body under a craneminer machine. Greg has been dead for years now. Whatever is out there, is not Greg." \-------------------- r/abhisek	“Don’t worry. I got this.” Dirk says strapping a sawed-off to his back. Hector, the first year engineer dives behind a table. “Where’d that come from?” He pleads. “It shoots salt. Might bruise you a little, but wont kill.” Hector pops up from behind the table, “Salt?”. “Yeah for the ghosts, specters, and ghouls that haunt the moon.” Dirk said with no waiver in his voice. “Why don’t you sit down for a while. Long trip, right?” Hector pulls out a chair for him. “No time. You should load up too.” Dirk said tossing a large white duffle bag to Hector. “Me?” Hector points to himself mouth agape. “Yeah man. Its go time… You must be new.” “I’ve been here 8 months!” Hector protested. “Not long enough. N.A.S.A. National Anti-Supernatural Administration.” Dirk punctuated each word with a raising count on his hand. “Sir, why don’t you put the gun down. I think you might be experiencing some side effects to your travel.” Hector pushed the chair toward Dirk. The lights turn red and a voice comes over the loudspeaker: “This is not a drill, I repeat this is NOT a drill. All employees please report to your desks for immediate briefings. We have found hell, and it’s not on Earth.” Hector looks at Dirk. “Well, you heard them. Hop to it.” Hector stampedes through the hallway pinballing off his fellow employees. Sitting on his desk is a brand new tablet. He sits. The screen lights up. What is your name? Flashes across the screen. Hector Alonso types in his name. The words melt toward the bottom of the screen and pool up to form a button. Thumb Print Please, arched around the top. “Cool,” Hector said. He couldn’t remember seeing anything like this in the r/D lab. He put his thumb to the button. A tiny barb pricks his finger. He pulls his hand away with an “Ow”. Droplets of blood form on his fingertip. Sorry! Flashes across the screen. Identity confirmed: Hector Alonso. Position: Research and Development Trainee. Vitals: Strong. Aptitude Score: 77. “77!” Hector scoffs. The text wipes off and a live feed of Dirk begins. Sitting on the table before him is a large container of salt, a bucket of empty capsules, and a funnel. His fists dug into the wood, as he leans over the items. “For the uninitiated, I bet you have tons of questions. Including who I am. I am Dirk Kaggsworth lead piolet for the Trojan expeditions. First, let me assure you aliens are not real. Or at least not what you would traditionally consider an alien. But there is stuff out there. And it is a threat. Every day we here at NASA, the National Anti-Supernatural Administration, make sure that the people of this great nation are safe from extraterrestrial threat. And today we have discovered the motherload. On our last mission to the moon, we had an expedition to the dark side. There we found the entrance to a lair or base that these E.T.s operate from. Our scouts were unable to identify how large the structure was. About now you might be asking yourself how all this pertains to you. We are launching a full-scale infiltration of their Moonbase, and need all the help we can get. If your vitals are in good standing and you had an aptitude score of 15 or higher, we would like to take you along. If you wish to accept, meet in the cafeteria in 30 minutes and bring whatever personal items you will need. For those that don’t meet the requirements, rest assured there is still work to be done at home. The first thing all of you need to know is how to load a salt gun.” Dirk opens the end of a capsule from the bucket and puts it under the funnel. “3 grams of salt is all you need.” He puts a spoon into the container of salt and pours it into the funnel. “If you can do that, you can help. And I know all of you can.” He seals the capsule and inserts it into a magazine. From under the table, he pulls out what looks like a metallic nerf gun. The magazine clicks into place. “Let’s lock and load.”
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	The state of the art, ninth-generation space plane designated as Apollo 82 sped toward its home planet at a staggering speed. The sheer velocity far exceeded any planned burn, pushing the spacecraft dangerously close to even its most theoretical operational limits. It was also two full weeks ahead of schedule for its return voyage, and more concerning still, it had been dead radio silent for days now. Throughout the entire unscheduled, hasty return trip from the surface of the Moon, the crew had ignored, or was not receiving, transmissions from mission control when requesting information on what 82 was doing. Every form of communication was attempted, but each was met with worrying silence. Appearing more like a comet or asteroid on a collision course with Earth than a manned, expertly controlled, and state of the art NASA spacecraft, Apollo 82 tore through the uppermost layer of Earth's atmosphere at three times the recommended speed for reentry. "Engineering? Do we believe they are in an uncontrolled or catastrophic descent?" flight director Jean Armand asked aloud as she paced nervously around mission control. "No, ma'am," the head of the engineering team responded. They'd been staring at screens full of flight analytics for hours, comparing them to the original design specs, desperately searching for a reason... any reason... that this spacecraft might be behaving so strangely. "The Eight-Two’s control surfaces are activating, frequently in fact. The ship is altering its flight path on direct input from the pilot, whoever that may be at this moment." Jean processed this new bit of bizarre information as she had for days now, stoically, analytically, but finally, she had to ask the question that was on the mind of every single person in mission control. She removed her headset so that her words would not be recorded for posterity. "Then what the fuck are they doing?" she demanded. "Is Stevenson trying to kill himself and everyone on board?" Shrugs and bewildered shakes of heads answered her question throughout the room, much as they had for the past days. In truth, she nor anyone else could confirm who was piloting the ship at this moment, but she had a strong hunch. Paxton Stevenson was the last of a prior generation of astronauts, brought in during the late 2020's. It was an era during which NASA had, mistakenly, it now believed, advertised the astronaut program as a career path for adventurers and free spirits. Most had been weeded out now, but Stevenson remained, something of a cowboy within an institution that now valued conformity and careful planners above all else. The Eight-Two screamed toward the landing pad without slowing, until, at the last possible second, it fired all reverse thrusters at maximum power, and came to a halt above the landing pad, hovering a few moments before coming gently to rest, betraying any notion of the perilous journey it had just been on. Jean's suspicion turned out to be correct. Captain Stevenson exited the spacecraft alone. She and several other NASA officials raced out to meet him as he hustled down the ramp from the pad. "Paxton? Paxton!" Jean shouted. "What in God's name is going on? Why was the mission aborted? Why did you ignore transmissions from-" "Didn't ignore shit, ma'am," he replied without breaking his stride. "Ship took heavy damage, I didn't receive a goddamn word back from y'all despite my dozens of panicked transmissions. Pretty sure the communications array was completely destroyed." "Destroyed? You were on the surface of the Moon, was there a surprise asteroid strike, or-" "Moon's fuckin’ haunted," he said, as if it was the most basic and factual statement anyone had ever uttered. “By ghosts, alien ghosts, creatures, demons, shit I don’t know… some kinda malevolent presence.” "Haunted? Oh Jesus... he has gone mad!" a tall, thin, perfectly groomed man replied. Terrance Holland was NASA's chief liaison between the space agency, the US Military, and Congress. He was a bureaucrat's bureaucrat if there had ever been one. A necessary position perhaps, but neither Jean nor Paxton were a fan. They'd nearly reached the hanger bay, their pace unslowed, before Jean finally grabbed Paxton's arm, halting him. "What do you mean 'haunted', Captain Stevenson?" she asked. He stopped for just a moment to look her directly in the eye. "I mean haunted, Ms. Armand. No joke, no misstatement, haunted. Otherworldly creatures, perhaps ethereal, but certainly not alive, inhabiting it, and hunting us from the moment we landed." "Okay..." she said, processing his statement as the rest of the group murmured dismissals. "Is the backup crew ready?" he asked. "Yes, but-" "Good, I need the Eight-Two refueled and restocked ASAP, or there isn't gonna be enough time for any rescue mission." "Rescue mission? Wait... where the hell is the rest of the crew, Pax?" "Lieutenant Richards was killed by those... things... whatever they are on Day 1. Science officer Alicia Kim, First Officer Garrison Rhodes, and Mission Specialist Nicole Rossini were all captured. Well, when I say captured..." He stopped and looked her in the eye once more, his voice becoming pained, nearly silent. "By captured, I mean they're being tortured, ma'am... tormented... call it what you want, there is no sugar coating it. I found 'em, saw what they were doing to 'em with my own eyes, but there wasn't a goddamn thing I could do by myself... not without a full team backing me up... and weapons." "Weapons?" Mr. Holland replied with shock. "Along with the rest of the supplies, I need several XGS-30's packed on board." "Those are highly experimental weapons, Captain," he replied. "You of all people will not be the first to wield them on a mission, let alone for some ghost and ghouls insanity you've cooked up in your own brain!" "Well, maybe don't develop space weaponry if you don't intend to someday use it, asshat," Stevenson replied as he burst into the astronaut’s quarters. "Captain Stevenson! Even if your ridiculous claims were true, and if we could organize a rescue effort this quickly, the backup crew is trained for in space rescue of crippled spacecraft and the like. Their weapons training was largely theoretical and-" "'No one gets left behind'. That rule was instituted in the wake of the tremendous shame felt after the Apollo 29 disaster. Did y'all really mean it? Or was it some PR bullshit? Cause I'm not leaving my crew up there, not in the horrific state they're in now. Everyone on the backup crew is former military like the rest of us, I assume? I think they'll adapt to their new role just fine." Jean stepped between the two men as things grew heated. "I need a moment to talk to my astronaut, gentlemen," she said. Terrance and the others griped, but did take a few steps back. "Pax?" she said quietly. "Yeah, Jean?" he replied, both dropping any formality. They'd butted heads at times, but there was mutual, if sometimes grudging, respect between them. "There is no way I can get the green light for a mission this dangerous, even setting aside the idea of convincing higher ups there are 'monsters on the moon'." "I suppose I know that..." he said, hanging his head as the reality of the situation dawned on him. "So, this is going to have to be entirely off the books." He stared at her in stunned silence. "You tell the backup crew as much or as little as you feel is necessary to get them on that ship. I'll handle the refueling and armaments, enough people around here owe me favors that we'll smuggle the damn XGS-30's on board if we have to. But once you fire up The Eight-Two for takeoff, I'm not gonna be able to protect you any longer. What you're doing is going to become painfully obvious to everyone. You're going to hear every shouted order in the world, telling you to shut down, abort launch immediately. I'd suggest you have another convenient communications failure at that point, and-" A slight, weary grin crossed his face. "Have no worry about that, ma'am. You don't have to order me to break the rules more than once." ___ Took me longer than I wanted because of IRL distractions, but I did indeed write a lengthy continuation for this story as promised. And I'll fully conclude it in Part 3 as soon as I have time <3 [Direct link to the post with Part 2 is here if you'd like to continue reading.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Ryter/comments/eqc3e5/wp_nasa_employee_oh_hey_you_guys_are_back_early/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)	“Don’t worry. I got this.” Dirk says strapping a sawed-off to his back. Hector, the first year engineer dives behind a table. “Where’d that come from?” He pleads. “It shoots salt. Might bruise you a little, but wont kill.” Hector pops up from behind the table, “Salt?”. “Yeah for the ghosts, specters, and ghouls that haunt the moon.” Dirk said with no waiver in his voice. “Why don’t you sit down for a while. Long trip, right?” Hector pulls out a chair for him. “No time. You should load up too.” Dirk said tossing a large white duffle bag to Hector. “Me?” Hector points to himself mouth agape. “Yeah man. Its go time… You must be new.” “I’ve been here 8 months!” Hector protested. “Not long enough. N.A.S.A. National Anti-Supernatural Administration.” Dirk punctuated each word with a raising count on his hand. “Sir, why don’t you put the gun down. I think you might be experiencing some side effects to your travel.” Hector pushed the chair toward Dirk. The lights turn red and a voice comes over the loudspeaker: “This is not a drill, I repeat this is NOT a drill. All employees please report to your desks for immediate briefings. We have found hell, and it’s not on Earth.” Hector looks at Dirk. “Well, you heard them. Hop to it.” Hector stampedes through the hallway pinballing off his fellow employees. Sitting on his desk is a brand new tablet. He sits. The screen lights up. What is your name? Flashes across the screen. Hector Alonso types in his name. The words melt toward the bottom of the screen and pool up to form a button. Thumb Print Please, arched around the top. “Cool,” Hector said. He couldn’t remember seeing anything like this in the r/D lab. He put his thumb to the button. A tiny barb pricks his finger. He pulls his hand away with an “Ow”. Droplets of blood form on his fingertip. Sorry! Flashes across the screen. Identity confirmed: Hector Alonso. Position: Research and Development Trainee. Vitals: Strong. Aptitude Score: 77. “77!” Hector scoffs. The text wipes off and a live feed of Dirk begins. Sitting on the table before him is a large container of salt, a bucket of empty capsules, and a funnel. His fists dug into the wood, as he leans over the items. “For the uninitiated, I bet you have tons of questions. Including who I am. I am Dirk Kaggsworth lead piolet for the Trojan expeditions. First, let me assure you aliens are not real. Or at least not what you would traditionally consider an alien. But there is stuff out there. And it is a threat. Every day we here at NASA, the National Anti-Supernatural Administration, make sure that the people of this great nation are safe from extraterrestrial threat. And today we have discovered the motherload. On our last mission to the moon, we had an expedition to the dark side. There we found the entrance to a lair or base that these E.T.s operate from. Our scouts were unable to identify how large the structure was. About now you might be asking yourself how all this pertains to you. We are launching a full-scale infiltration of their Moonbase, and need all the help we can get. If your vitals are in good standing and you had an aptitude score of 15 or higher, we would like to take you along. If you wish to accept, meet in the cafeteria in 30 minutes and bring whatever personal items you will need. For those that don’t meet the requirements, rest assured there is still work to be done at home. The first thing all of you need to know is how to load a salt gun.” Dirk opens the end of a capsule from the bucket and puts it under the funnel. “3 grams of salt is all you need.” He puts a spoon into the container of salt and pours it into the funnel. “If you can do that, you can help. And I know all of you can.” He seals the capsule and inserts it into a magazine. From under the table, he pulls out what looks like a metallic nerf gun. The magazine clicks into place. “Let’s lock and load.”
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	"What do you mean, the Moon's haunted?" "It's haunted, all right? Just trust me. I saw it with my own eyes. You remember Nickelson? That sonofabitch with the bad haircut and the little dog? Or maybe it was his wife's little dog. Anyway. I saw him. But he was dead. And red. And floating. Look, it was a whole thing, ok? But the moon's haunted and we gotta do something about it because if we don't, they're gonna come here, and I don't know about you, but Earth's kinda where my keep my stuff, and I definitely don't want these guys messing with it." "Sir..." "I mean, yeah, look, I know this isn't how we usually do things, but if you'll just fill 'er up and send me back, I can handle it. I've got the coordinates for that...uh, triangle light gate thing and...I'll just pop on through there and shoot 'em. That should take care of it. Yeah, that's a plan. We'll roll with that for now, you can send backup after me." "Sir, if you'd just listen to..." "Look, you need to listen to ME, all right? I saw them. It was real. And, let me tell you, it was seriously, seriously messed up. Like...seriously messed up. We have to do something about that. Now. Like, right now. So stop stalling and just..." "...sir?" "...it occurs to me that this is not a real rocketship." "We call them landers, but, no, sir, it's not." "I wasn't on the moon, was I?" "No, sir, you weren't." "You're right, I wasn't on the Moon, because I was right here in the Johnson Space Center, in the good ol' U. S. of A., and we were running a test simulation of fuel leak, which I might have replaced that plain ol' stinky stuff with something a bit more, uh, fun, just as a joke, you know, but I remember doing that, because I am one hundred percent not insane." "...that is a real gun, though." "Uh, yes, it appears that it is. I...any chance you could have pretended, um, not to see that?" "I'm afraid not, sir." "Shoot. Well, I guess I failed the screening, huh?" "Rather spectacularly, sir. The MPs on their way. I suggest you disarm yourself before they get here." "Damn it." "Why did you bring a weapon to a test sim anyway?" "Well, that, Lieutenant, is a very long and complicated story that -- since I'm washing out anyway -- I would be more than happy to tell you over dinner." "Absolutely not." "Hey...I'll tell ya how I snuck it in here, too. Here's a hint -- it definitely involved my pants." "Is that security? Finally. Buzz them through, please." "Can't blame a man for trying. Well, maybe you can. Hey, fellas! Look, this has all just been a big misunderstanding..."	The base went on lockdown after the astronauts took hostages. Nobody expected them to go this far. They were mentally unstable. That much was obvious from the start. Deputy Director Anderson couldn't believe they had the gall to end their mission early. His dismay only grew when the crew begged to return with weaponry. These were trained military personnel and scientists. They shouldn't be talking about vague supernatural phenomena up in the moon. Anderson didn't know what to make of it. It would help if they were specific about the threat but, whenever they were interrogated, they did everything in their power to avoid details. Almost like talking about it would make it worse. Anderson shivered. Did the cosmic radiation fry their brains? It was the only reasonable explanation. They kept repeating that they were running out of time. Anderson dismissed it as the ravings of lunatics, but they all stuck to the same story, even though they were separated as soon as they landed. One of them, Captain Frisco, broke out of his holding cell, killing two men. He then freed the others and took over the launching station with their help. Rocket fuel was their trump card. They improvised some explosives, threatening to detonate the entire cache of refined kerosene if their demands weren't met. The explosion would demolish half the base. Anderson ordered a squad to neutralize them. He wasn't going to negotiate over something this ridiculous. That turned out to be a deadly decision. The crew members somehow disemboweled the entire squadron. Anderson gagged when he saw the aftermath. It should've been impossible. The astronauts weren't people anymore. This could only be done by monsters. The situation only escalated when the public caught wind of it. Details were kept tight, but the lockdown was leaked to news outlets. At least they didn't know about the murders. It took a day for Anderson to swallow his pride and open a line of communication with them. He wasn't going to give them what they wanted, obviously, but he needed to do something before things got worse. In the end, he convinced them to allow food to be sent for them and the hostages. This was all a ruse, though. The delivery people were disguised soldiers. Snipers were perched on the opposite rooftop, waiting for a clear shot. Even if they failed, the food was drugged with a cocktail of muscle relaxants and sleep aids. Anderson wasn't taking any chances. It needed to end here. Everyone in the room fell quiet when the operation started. With every step the 'delivery people' took, Anderson's heart rate climbed higher and higher. The disguised soldiers opened the door. The crew wasn't there. Anderson widened his eyes. His body trembled out of control. He immediately contacted the snipers. They were already dead. How?!? Anderson didn't have time to react. A shot was fired down the hallway, followed by a gut-wrenching scream. They were coming for him. Five men aimed their rifles at the door. Anderson hid behind his desk. The door was blown off its hinges. The men unloaded their weapons. Silence. Anderson raised his head, peeking out of the desk. Captain Frisco stood tall, surrounded by five corpses. His left eye bulged out of its socket, corrupted by a nauseating yellow tint. He was riddled with bullets. The wounds should've been fatal. Captain Frisco took slow, deliberate steps forward. Anderson whimpered. Captain Frisco grabbed him by the neck, lifting him with one arm. "Please!" shouted Anderson. "Don't kill me! I'm begging!" "You... you fool!" Captain Frisco coughed, vomiting black ichor. "Give the order!" "W-what?!?" "The crew is already on the ship! Send them! Now!" "Yes! Okay!" Anderson took a radio and gave the command. After a minute of being held, fearing for his life, the ship lifted off without a problem. Captain Frisco released the deputy director. "Why are you going this far?" said Anderson. "You've sentenced them to death." Captain Frisco winced, clutching his head. He seemed in pain. "There... are... worse... fates." "Then tell me! We can't do anything about it if we don't know!" Captain Frisco welled up with tears. "We... we must." He sobbed. "It's the... the... mgepogg r'luhhor c' ephaiah'uh'enah if c' don't f' ah'n'gha ehyeog." A tentacle sprouted out of his mouth. Anderson fell on the floor, screaming. Ten soldiers rushed inside. They opened fire on Captain Frisco. He killed three of them with a swipe of his new appendage. The remaining soldiers finally subdued him. Captain Frisco was dead. Anderson couldn't believe what he just saw. A few hours later, the ship lost contact with the base. It was never seen again. The hostages were fine. None of them were injured. Apparently, the crew had been stalling to prepare the ship. It still didn't make any sense. The autopsy report showed that Frisco's tentacle was some sort of mutation. The leading hypothesis suggested that some unknown energy had altered his DNA. His body was tougher than anything on Earth. They needed a laser just to dissect him. Information about this incident was immediately suppressed. Witnesses were bribed and threatened to keep quiet for the rest of their lives. Anderson didn't need much motivation to go along with this request. He wanted to never remember it again. Whatever was up there, humanity was better off not knowing about it. -------- >If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading!
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	The moon had sat evacuated for months. The ghosts of the dead had lived on the moon for millennia. The base finally allowed them to take tangible form. To begin the ritual. As he rose forth, the moon shuddered. A portal opened. The ritual continued. A hand crawled out of the void that had appeared. One of the ghosts paused. His younger years detected something. Satan heard it too. Dragging himself out of the pit, he made an effort to rise faster so he may face the dread foe. Satan spoke. "HE IS COMING. DEFEND YOURSELVES." The young ghosts face went pale. He turned to the other ghosts. A green blur could be seen rapidly advancing towards the base in the distance. The ghost spoke as the blur became clear. A man. In green armor. Holding a shotgun. "Do you guys hear heavy metal?" The young ghost said. And then the man smashed through the window. And all hell broke loose.	The base went on lockdown after the astronauts took hostages. Nobody expected them to go this far. They were mentally unstable. That much was obvious from the start. Deputy Director Anderson couldn't believe they had the gall to end their mission early. His dismay only grew when the crew begged to return with weaponry. These were trained military personnel and scientists. They shouldn't be talking about vague supernatural phenomena up in the moon. Anderson didn't know what to make of it. It would help if they were specific about the threat but, whenever they were interrogated, they did everything in their power to avoid details. Almost like talking about it would make it worse. Anderson shivered. Did the cosmic radiation fry their brains? It was the only reasonable explanation. They kept repeating that they were running out of time. Anderson dismissed it as the ravings of lunatics, but they all stuck to the same story, even though they were separated as soon as they landed. One of them, Captain Frisco, broke out of his holding cell, killing two men. He then freed the others and took over the launching station with their help. Rocket fuel was their trump card. They improvised some explosives, threatening to detonate the entire cache of refined kerosene if their demands weren't met. The explosion would demolish half the base. Anderson ordered a squad to neutralize them. He wasn't going to negotiate over something this ridiculous. That turned out to be a deadly decision. The crew members somehow disemboweled the entire squadron. Anderson gagged when he saw the aftermath. It should've been impossible. The astronauts weren't people anymore. This could only be done by monsters. The situation only escalated when the public caught wind of it. Details were kept tight, but the lockdown was leaked to news outlets. At least they didn't know about the murders. It took a day for Anderson to swallow his pride and open a line of communication with them. He wasn't going to give them what they wanted, obviously, but he needed to do something before things got worse. In the end, he convinced them to allow food to be sent for them and the hostages. This was all a ruse, though. The delivery people were disguised soldiers. Snipers were perched on the opposite rooftop, waiting for a clear shot. Even if they failed, the food was drugged with a cocktail of muscle relaxants and sleep aids. Anderson wasn't taking any chances. It needed to end here. Everyone in the room fell quiet when the operation started. With every step the 'delivery people' took, Anderson's heart rate climbed higher and higher. The disguised soldiers opened the door. The crew wasn't there. Anderson widened his eyes. His body trembled out of control. He immediately contacted the snipers. They were already dead. How?!? Anderson didn't have time to react. A shot was fired down the hallway, followed by a gut-wrenching scream. They were coming for him. Five men aimed their rifles at the door. Anderson hid behind his desk. The door was blown off its hinges. The men unloaded their weapons. Silence. Anderson raised his head, peeking out of the desk. Captain Frisco stood tall, surrounded by five corpses. His left eye bulged out of its socket, corrupted by a nauseating yellow tint. He was riddled with bullets. The wounds should've been fatal. Captain Frisco took slow, deliberate steps forward. Anderson whimpered. Captain Frisco grabbed him by the neck, lifting him with one arm. "Please!" shouted Anderson. "Don't kill me! I'm begging!" "You... you fool!" Captain Frisco coughed, vomiting black ichor. "Give the order!" "W-what?!?" "The crew is already on the ship! Send them! Now!" "Yes! Okay!" Anderson took a radio and gave the command. After a minute of being held, fearing for his life, the ship lifted off without a problem. Captain Frisco released the deputy director. "Why are you going this far?" said Anderson. "You've sentenced them to death." Captain Frisco winced, clutching his head. He seemed in pain. "There... are... worse... fates." "Then tell me! We can't do anything about it if we don't know!" Captain Frisco welled up with tears. "We... we must." He sobbed. "It's the... the... mgepogg r'luhhor c' ephaiah'uh'enah if c' don't f' ah'n'gha ehyeog." A tentacle sprouted out of his mouth. Anderson fell on the floor, screaming. Ten soldiers rushed inside. They opened fire on Captain Frisco. He killed three of them with a swipe of his new appendage. The remaining soldiers finally subdued him. Captain Frisco was dead. Anderson couldn't believe what he just saw. A few hours later, the ship lost contact with the base. It was never seen again. The hostages were fine. None of them were injured. Apparently, the crew had been stalling to prepare the ship. It still didn't make any sense. The autopsy report showed that Frisco's tentacle was some sort of mutation. The leading hypothesis suggested that some unknown energy had altered his DNA. His body was tougher than anything on Earth. They needed a laser just to dissect him. Information about this incident was immediately suppressed. Witnesses were bribed and threatened to keep quiet for the rest of their lives. Anderson didn't need much motivation to go along with this request. He wanted to never remember it again. Whatever was up there, humanity was better off not knowing about it. -------- >If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading!
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	The moon had sat evacuated for months. The ghosts of the dead had lived on the moon for millennia. The base finally allowed them to take tangible form. To begin the ritual. As he rose forth, the moon shuddered. A portal opened. The ritual continued. A hand crawled out of the void that had appeared. One of the ghosts paused. His younger years detected something. Satan heard it too. Dragging himself out of the pit, he made an effort to rise faster so he may face the dread foe. Satan spoke. "HE IS COMING. DEFEND YOURSELVES." The young ghosts face went pale. He turned to the other ghosts. A green blur could be seen rapidly advancing towards the base in the distance. The ghost spoke as the blur became clear. A man. In green armor. Holding a shotgun. "Do you guys hear heavy metal?" The young ghost said. And then the man smashed through the window. And all hell broke loose.	"What do you mean, the Moon's haunted?" "It's haunted, all right? Just trust me. I saw it with my own eyes. You remember Nickelson? That sonofabitch with the bad haircut and the little dog? Or maybe it was his wife's little dog. Anyway. I saw him. But he was dead. And red. And floating. Look, it was a whole thing, ok? But the moon's haunted and we gotta do something about it because if we don't, they're gonna come here, and I don't know about you, but Earth's kinda where my keep my stuff, and I definitely don't want these guys messing with it." "Sir..." "I mean, yeah, look, I know this isn't how we usually do things, but if you'll just fill 'er up and send me back, I can handle it. I've got the coordinates for that...uh, triangle light gate thing and...I'll just pop on through there and shoot 'em. That should take care of it. Yeah, that's a plan. We'll roll with that for now, you can send backup after me." "Sir, if you'd just listen to..." "Look, you need to listen to ME, all right? I saw them. It was real. And, let me tell you, it was seriously, seriously messed up. Like...seriously messed up. We have to do something about that. Now. Like, right now. So stop stalling and just..." "...sir?" "...it occurs to me that this is not a real rocketship." "We call them landers, but, no, sir, it's not." "I wasn't on the moon, was I?" "No, sir, you weren't." "You're right, I wasn't on the Moon, because I was right here in the Johnson Space Center, in the good ol' U. S. of A., and we were running a test simulation of fuel leak, which I might have replaced that plain ol' stinky stuff with something a bit more, uh, fun, just as a joke, you know, but I remember doing that, because I am one hundred percent not insane." "...that is a real gun, though." "Uh, yes, it appears that it is. I...any chance you could have pretended, um, not to see that?" "I'm afraid not, sir." "Shoot. Well, I guess I failed the screening, huh?" "Rather spectacularly, sir. The MPs on their way. I suggest you disarm yourself before they get here." "Damn it." "Why did you bring a weapon to a test sim anyway?" "Well, that, Lieutenant, is a very long and complicated story that -- since I'm washing out anyway -- I would be more than happy to tell you over dinner." "Absolutely not." "Hey...I'll tell ya how I snuck it in here, too. Here's a hint -- it definitely involved my pants." "Is that security? Finally. Buzz them through, please." "Can't blame a man for trying. Well, maybe you can. Hey, fellas! Look, this has all just been a big misunderstanding..."
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	"Then why are you going back?" Fred shouted. Richard wasn't looking back. "You're going back? Where's Greg? Why are you taking a pistol?" Fred said and ran after him. "Too many questions. I don't have much time," Richard said, stepping inside the Rocket ship. He tried to close the door, but Fred had already caught up. He was grabbing onto it's handle, preventing Richard from closing it. "I'm coming along," Fred said. He knew it wasn't the wisest idea, but what was he going to do? Sit at the observatory and wait for Richard to come back with even more crazy news? "You haven't bought your supplies," Richard said with a blank expression on his face. "There's a spare suit in the inventory. Let me in," Fred said, barging his way in. "If we run out of oxywater, I'm not giving you my spare bottle," Fred said, locking the door. He seemed visibly annoyed but Fred didn't have any other options. He ran to the inventory to suit up because he knew Richard wouldn't wait for him to get ready. Just like he predicted, the floor of the inventory started shaking vigorously while he put on his space suit and struggled to maintain his balance. When he returned to the front, he saw the rocket leaving Earth's atmosphere. Richard seemed to be focused on flying the ship. It was either that or he just pretended to be unaware of Fred standing beside him. "So, are you going to tell me where Greg is? And what's with moon being haunted?" "Do you remember the last time we went there to mine kinxium?" "Yes, but that was years ago. We made many trips since then," Fred said, trying to remember the relevance of that trip. "Do you remember how Greg almost fell over a ditch and we lost him for two days?" "Yes. But that's normal. People go missing during mining trips all the time," "Yes, but not for two days. I disobeyed protocol and went towards the Kinxium site today" "You shouldn't be doing that, Richard. You know how the boss hates-" Fred stopped talking as Richard raised a hand. The Rocket ship was making its landing on the moon. Richard got up from his seat and grabbed the pistol. As the Rocket landed, Fred saw Greg waving his hands and floating nearby, waiting for them. Fred was relieved to see Greg. At least he was all right. Richard moved towards the door and looked at Fred. He spoke in a whisper, as if he didn't want anyone else to overhear them. "When I went over to the Kinxium site, I found Greg's body under a craneminer machine. Greg has been dead for years now. Whatever is out there, is not Greg." \-------------------- r/abhisek	"It'll be the end of the world, damnit! We have to go back!" Astronaut Jones screamed. "We god-damned landed on something we shouldn't have," he continued as he cocked his visor open to reveal eyes frozen wide with shock. Bob from ground-control tried to speak, but couldn't think of anything useful to say. What the hell had happened? As the astronaut went to continue, Bob began flicking through records on his iPad, searching for the footage from the ship. "Suddenly there was this moaning, you know, like a pack of damned wolves had suddenly broke out and surrounded us. Damned grey things began flying past us, shouting, screaming, spewing from the ground like some kind of geothermal viaduct. They went straight for Rocket 2 and took out Rogers like he was nothing, just kept slamming into him till his damned helmet popped off." Astronaut Jones was shaking, looking down, the horror coming back to him the more he spoke. "And then...and then...he stood back up...with no helmet, man. Smiled. Walked back to his ship and killed Bert. He killed Bert! " Tears were falling down Joine's face. Bob found the records from Rocket 1, and began to play the video. The landing was there, but the video cut to static only a few seconds after. All feeds were the same. "We ran Bob, just left them there. It's all we could do! Kim might still be alive...we have to go back!" "Jones, listen to me," Bob spoke up for the first time, "whatver happened, it's not going to end the world...I'm sure there's an explanation..." Before he could finish, Jones cut in. "BOB, Just listen, listen to this!" He reached across inside the craft and pressed a button, playing a recording over the ships systems. It was Roger's voice, strange and robot-like. A thousand whispering tones seemed to spill out behind his every word. "We are coming home....the gate to the underworld has been opened, and you have provided us with a link back to Earth. Soon, we will arrive, soon the earth shall be for the Dead to rule!" Roger's must have gone insane. What the hell had happened up there. Bob's radio crackled into life. "Bob, get back in here. We have confirmation of Rocket 2 entering the atmosphere. Landing t - 10 minutes. Need your assistance, now" As Bob began running back to the tower, Jones screamed. "It's too late! They're coming! We're all doomed!" r/fatdragon
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	The state of the art, ninth-generation space plane designated as Apollo 82 sped toward its home planet at a staggering speed. The sheer velocity far exceeded any planned burn, pushing the spacecraft dangerously close to even its most theoretical operational limits. It was also two full weeks ahead of schedule for its return voyage, and more concerning still, it had been dead radio silent for days now. Throughout the entire unscheduled, hasty return trip from the surface of the Moon, the crew had ignored, or was not receiving, transmissions from mission control when requesting information on what 82 was doing. Every form of communication was attempted, but each was met with worrying silence. Appearing more like a comet or asteroid on a collision course with Earth than a manned, expertly controlled, and state of the art NASA spacecraft, Apollo 82 tore through the uppermost layer of Earth's atmosphere at three times the recommended speed for reentry. "Engineering? Do we believe they are in an uncontrolled or catastrophic descent?" flight director Jean Armand asked aloud as she paced nervously around mission control. "No, ma'am," the head of the engineering team responded. They'd been staring at screens full of flight analytics for hours, comparing them to the original design specs, desperately searching for a reason... any reason... that this spacecraft might be behaving so strangely. "The Eight-Two’s control surfaces are activating, frequently in fact. The ship is altering its flight path on direct input from the pilot, whoever that may be at this moment." Jean processed this new bit of bizarre information as she had for days now, stoically, analytically, but finally, she had to ask the question that was on the mind of every single person in mission control. She removed her headset so that her words would not be recorded for posterity. "Then what the fuck are they doing?" she demanded. "Is Stevenson trying to kill himself and everyone on board?" Shrugs and bewildered shakes of heads answered her question throughout the room, much as they had for the past days. In truth, she nor anyone else could confirm who was piloting the ship at this moment, but she had a strong hunch. Paxton Stevenson was the last of a prior generation of astronauts, brought in during the late 2020's. It was an era during which NASA had, mistakenly, it now believed, advertised the astronaut program as a career path for adventurers and free spirits. Most had been weeded out now, but Stevenson remained, something of a cowboy within an institution that now valued conformity and careful planners above all else. The Eight-Two screamed toward the landing pad without slowing, until, at the last possible second, it fired all reverse thrusters at maximum power, and came to a halt above the landing pad, hovering a few moments before coming gently to rest, betraying any notion of the perilous journey it had just been on. Jean's suspicion turned out to be correct. Captain Stevenson exited the spacecraft alone. She and several other NASA officials raced out to meet him as he hustled down the ramp from the pad. "Paxton? Paxton!" Jean shouted. "What in God's name is going on? Why was the mission aborted? Why did you ignore transmissions from-" "Didn't ignore shit, ma'am," he replied without breaking his stride. "Ship took heavy damage, I didn't receive a goddamn word back from y'all despite my dozens of panicked transmissions. Pretty sure the communications array was completely destroyed." "Destroyed? You were on the surface of the Moon, was there a surprise asteroid strike, or-" "Moon's fuckin’ haunted," he said, as if it was the most basic and factual statement anyone had ever uttered. “By ghosts, alien ghosts, creatures, demons, shit I don’t know… some kinda malevolent presence.” "Haunted? Oh Jesus... he has gone mad!" a tall, thin, perfectly groomed man replied. Terrance Holland was NASA's chief liaison between the space agency, the US Military, and Congress. He was a bureaucrat's bureaucrat if there had ever been one. A necessary position perhaps, but neither Jean nor Paxton were a fan. They'd nearly reached the hanger bay, their pace unslowed, before Jean finally grabbed Paxton's arm, halting him. "What do you mean 'haunted', Captain Stevenson?" she asked. He stopped for just a moment to look her directly in the eye. "I mean haunted, Ms. Armand. No joke, no misstatement, haunted. Otherworldly creatures, perhaps ethereal, but certainly not alive, inhabiting it, and hunting us from the moment we landed." "Okay..." she said, processing his statement as the rest of the group murmured dismissals. "Is the backup crew ready?" he asked. "Yes, but-" "Good, I need the Eight-Two refueled and restocked ASAP, or there isn't gonna be enough time for any rescue mission." "Rescue mission? Wait... where the hell is the rest of the crew, Pax?" "Lieutenant Richards was killed by those... things... whatever they are on Day 1. Science officer Alicia Kim, First Officer Garrison Rhodes, and Mission Specialist Nicole Rossini were all captured. Well, when I say captured..." He stopped and looked her in the eye once more, his voice becoming pained, nearly silent. "By captured, I mean they're being tortured, ma'am... tormented... call it what you want, there is no sugar coating it. I found 'em, saw what they were doing to 'em with my own eyes, but there wasn't a goddamn thing I could do by myself... not without a full team backing me up... and weapons." "Weapons?" Mr. Holland replied with shock. "Along with the rest of the supplies, I need several XGS-30's packed on board." "Those are highly experimental weapons, Captain," he replied. "You of all people will not be the first to wield them on a mission, let alone for some ghost and ghouls insanity you've cooked up in your own brain!" "Well, maybe don't develop space weaponry if you don't intend to someday use it, asshat," Stevenson replied as he burst into the astronaut’s quarters. "Captain Stevenson! Even if your ridiculous claims were true, and if we could organize a rescue effort this quickly, the backup crew is trained for in space rescue of crippled spacecraft and the like. Their weapons training was largely theoretical and-" "'No one gets left behind'. That rule was instituted in the wake of the tremendous shame felt after the Apollo 29 disaster. Did y'all really mean it? Or was it some PR bullshit? Cause I'm not leaving my crew up there, not in the horrific state they're in now. Everyone on the backup crew is former military like the rest of us, I assume? I think they'll adapt to their new role just fine." Jean stepped between the two men as things grew heated. "I need a moment to talk to my astronaut, gentlemen," she said. Terrance and the others griped, but did take a few steps back. "Pax?" she said quietly. "Yeah, Jean?" he replied, both dropping any formality. They'd butted heads at times, but there was mutual, if sometimes grudging, respect between them. "There is no way I can get the green light for a mission this dangerous, even setting aside the idea of convincing higher ups there are 'monsters on the moon'." "I suppose I know that..." he said, hanging his head as the reality of the situation dawned on him. "So, this is going to have to be entirely off the books." He stared at her in stunned silence. "You tell the backup crew as much or as little as you feel is necessary to get them on that ship. I'll handle the refueling and armaments, enough people around here owe me favors that we'll smuggle the damn XGS-30's on board if we have to. But once you fire up The Eight-Two for takeoff, I'm not gonna be able to protect you any longer. What you're doing is going to become painfully obvious to everyone. You're going to hear every shouted order in the world, telling you to shut down, abort launch immediately. I'd suggest you have another convenient communications failure at that point, and-" A slight, weary grin crossed his face. "Have no worry about that, ma'am. You don't have to order me to break the rules more than once." ___ Took me longer than I wanted because of IRL distractions, but I did indeed write a lengthy continuation for this story as promised. And I'll fully conclude it in Part 3 as soon as I have time <3 [Direct link to the post with Part 2 is here if you'd like to continue reading.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Ryter/comments/eqc3e5/wp_nasa_employee_oh_hey_you_guys_are_back_early/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)	"It'll be the end of the world, damnit! We have to go back!" Astronaut Jones screamed. "We god-damned landed on something we shouldn't have," he continued as he cocked his visor open to reveal eyes frozen wide with shock. Bob from ground-control tried to speak, but couldn't think of anything useful to say. What the hell had happened? As the astronaut went to continue, Bob began flicking through records on his iPad, searching for the footage from the ship. "Suddenly there was this moaning, you know, like a pack of damned wolves had suddenly broke out and surrounded us. Damned grey things began flying past us, shouting, screaming, spewing from the ground like some kind of geothermal viaduct. They went straight for Rocket 2 and took out Rogers like he was nothing, just kept slamming into him till his damned helmet popped off." Astronaut Jones was shaking, looking down, the horror coming back to him the more he spoke. "And then...and then...he stood back up...with no helmet, man. Smiled. Walked back to his ship and killed Bert. He killed Bert! " Tears were falling down Joine's face. Bob found the records from Rocket 1, and began to play the video. The landing was there, but the video cut to static only a few seconds after. All feeds were the same. "We ran Bob, just left them there. It's all we could do! Kim might still be alive...we have to go back!" "Jones, listen to me," Bob spoke up for the first time, "whatver happened, it's not going to end the world...I'm sure there's an explanation..." Before he could finish, Jones cut in. "BOB, Just listen, listen to this!" He reached across inside the craft and pressed a button, playing a recording over the ships systems. It was Roger's voice, strange and robot-like. A thousand whispering tones seemed to spill out behind his every word. "We are coming home....the gate to the underworld has been opened, and you have provided us with a link back to Earth. Soon, we will arrive, soon the earth shall be for the Dead to rule!" Roger's must have gone insane. What the hell had happened up there. Bob's radio crackled into life. "Bob, get back in here. We have confirmation of Rocket 2 entering the atmosphere. Landing t - 10 minutes. Need your assistance, now" As Bob began running back to the tower, Jones screamed. "It's too late! They're coming! We're all doomed!" r/fatdragon
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter	[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: loads pistol and gets back on rocketship Moon's haunted.	The state of the art, ninth-generation space plane designated as Apollo 82 sped toward its home planet at a staggering speed. The sheer velocity far exceeded any planned burn, pushing the spacecraft dangerously close to even its most theoretical operational limits. It was also two full weeks ahead of schedule for its return voyage, and more concerning still, it had been dead radio silent for days now. Throughout the entire unscheduled, hasty return trip from the surface of the Moon, the crew had ignored, or was not receiving, transmissions from mission control when requesting information on what 82 was doing. Every form of communication was attempted, but each was met with worrying silence. Appearing more like a comet or asteroid on a collision course with Earth than a manned, expertly controlled, and state of the art NASA spacecraft, Apollo 82 tore through the uppermost layer of Earth's atmosphere at three times the recommended speed for reentry. "Engineering? Do we believe they are in an uncontrolled or catastrophic descent?" flight director Jean Armand asked aloud as she paced nervously around mission control. "No, ma'am," the head of the engineering team responded. They'd been staring at screens full of flight analytics for hours, comparing them to the original design specs, desperately searching for a reason... any reason... that this spacecraft might be behaving so strangely. "The Eight-Two’s control surfaces are activating, frequently in fact. The ship is altering its flight path on direct input from the pilot, whoever that may be at this moment." Jean processed this new bit of bizarre information as she had for days now, stoically, analytically, but finally, she had to ask the question that was on the mind of every single person in mission control. She removed her headset so that her words would not be recorded for posterity. "Then what the fuck are they doing?" she demanded. "Is Stevenson trying to kill himself and everyone on board?" Shrugs and bewildered shakes of heads answered her question throughout the room, much as they had for the past days. In truth, she nor anyone else could confirm who was piloting the ship at this moment, but she had a strong hunch. Paxton Stevenson was the last of a prior generation of astronauts, brought in during the late 2020's. It was an era during which NASA had, mistakenly, it now believed, advertised the astronaut program as a career path for adventurers and free spirits. Most had been weeded out now, but Stevenson remained, something of a cowboy within an institution that now valued conformity and careful planners above all else. The Eight-Two screamed toward the landing pad without slowing, until, at the last possible second, it fired all reverse thrusters at maximum power, and came to a halt above the landing pad, hovering a few moments before coming gently to rest, betraying any notion of the perilous journey it had just been on. Jean's suspicion turned out to be correct. Captain Stevenson exited the spacecraft alone. She and several other NASA officials raced out to meet him as he hustled down the ramp from the pad. "Paxton? Paxton!" Jean shouted. "What in God's name is going on? Why was the mission aborted? Why did you ignore transmissions from-" "Didn't ignore shit, ma'am," he replied without breaking his stride. "Ship took heavy damage, I didn't receive a goddamn word back from y'all despite my dozens of panicked transmissions. Pretty sure the communications array was completely destroyed." "Destroyed? You were on the surface of the Moon, was there a surprise asteroid strike, or-" "Moon's fuckin’ haunted," he said, as if it was the most basic and factual statement anyone had ever uttered. “By ghosts, alien ghosts, creatures, demons, shit I don’t know… some kinda malevolent presence.” "Haunted? Oh Jesus... he has gone mad!" a tall, thin, perfectly groomed man replied. Terrance Holland was NASA's chief liaison between the space agency, the US Military, and Congress. He was a bureaucrat's bureaucrat if there had ever been one. A necessary position perhaps, but neither Jean nor Paxton were a fan. They'd nearly reached the hanger bay, their pace unslowed, before Jean finally grabbed Paxton's arm, halting him. "What do you mean 'haunted', Captain Stevenson?" she asked. He stopped for just a moment to look her directly in the eye. "I mean haunted, Ms. Armand. No joke, no misstatement, haunted. Otherworldly creatures, perhaps ethereal, but certainly not alive, inhabiting it, and hunting us from the moment we landed." "Okay..." she said, processing his statement as the rest of the group murmured dismissals. "Is the backup crew ready?" he asked. "Yes, but-" "Good, I need the Eight-Two refueled and restocked ASAP, or there isn't gonna be enough time for any rescue mission." "Rescue mission? Wait... where the hell is the rest of the crew, Pax?" "Lieutenant Richards was killed by those... things... whatever they are on Day 1. Science officer Alicia Kim, First Officer Garrison Rhodes, and Mission Specialist Nicole Rossini were all captured. Well, when I say captured..." He stopped and looked her in the eye once more, his voice becoming pained, nearly silent. "By captured, I mean they're being tortured, ma'am... tormented... call it what you want, there is no sugar coating it. I found 'em, saw what they were doing to 'em with my own eyes, but there wasn't a goddamn thing I could do by myself... not without a full team backing me up... and weapons." "Weapons?" Mr. Holland replied with shock. "Along with the rest of the supplies, I need several XGS-30's packed on board." "Those are highly experimental weapons, Captain," he replied. "You of all people will not be the first to wield them on a mission, let alone for some ghost and ghouls insanity you've cooked up in your own brain!" "Well, maybe don't develop space weaponry if you don't intend to someday use it, asshat," Stevenson replied as he burst into the astronaut’s quarters. "Captain Stevenson! Even if your ridiculous claims were true, and if we could organize a rescue effort this quickly, the backup crew is trained for in space rescue of crippled spacecraft and the like. Their weapons training was largely theoretical and-" "'No one gets left behind'. That rule was instituted in the wake of the tremendous shame felt after the Apollo 29 disaster. Did y'all really mean it? Or was it some PR bullshit? Cause I'm not leaving my crew up there, not in the horrific state they're in now. Everyone on the backup crew is former military like the rest of us, I assume? I think they'll adapt to their new role just fine." Jean stepped between the two men as things grew heated. "I need a moment to talk to my astronaut, gentlemen," she said. Terrance and the others griped, but did take a few steps back. "Pax?" she said quietly. "Yeah, Jean?" he replied, both dropping any formality. They'd butted heads at times, but there was mutual, if sometimes grudging, respect between them. "There is no way I can get the green light for a mission this dangerous, even setting aside the idea of convincing higher ups there are 'monsters on the moon'." "I suppose I know that..." he said, hanging his head as the reality of the situation dawned on him. "So, this is going to have to be entirely off the books." He stared at her in stunned silence. "You tell the backup crew as much or as little as you feel is necessary to get them on that ship. I'll handle the refueling and armaments, enough people around here owe me favors that we'll smuggle the damn XGS-30's on board if we have to. But once you fire up The Eight-Two for takeoff, I'm not gonna be able to protect you any longer. What you're doing is going to become painfully obvious to everyone. You're going to hear every shouted order in the world, telling you to shut down, abort launch immediately. I'd suggest you have another convenient communications failure at that point, and-" A slight, weary grin crossed his face. "Have no worry about that, ma'am. You don't have to order me to break the rules more than once." ___ Took me longer than I wanted because of IRL distractions, but I did indeed write a lengthy continuation for this story as promised. And I'll fully conclude it in Part 3 as soon as I have time <3 [Direct link to the post with Part 2 is here if you'd like to continue reading.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Ryter/comments/eqc3e5/wp_nasa_employee_oh_hey_you_guys_are_back_early/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)	"Then why are you going back?" Fred shouted. Richard wasn't looking back. "You're going back? Where's Greg? Why are you taking a pistol?" Fred said and ran after him. "Too many questions. I don't have much time," Richard said, stepping inside the Rocket ship. He tried to close the door, but Fred had already caught up. He was grabbing onto it's handle, preventing Richard from closing it. "I'm coming along," Fred said. He knew it wasn't the wisest idea, but what was he going to do? Sit at the observatory and wait for Richard to come back with even more crazy news? "You haven't bought your supplies," Richard said with a blank expression on his face. "There's a spare suit in the inventory. Let me in," Fred said, barging his way in. "If we run out of oxywater, I'm not giving you my spare bottle," Fred said, locking the door. He seemed visibly annoyed but Fred didn't have any other options. He ran to the inventory to suit up because he knew Richard wouldn't wait for him to get ready. Just like he predicted, the floor of the inventory started shaking vigorously while he put on his space suit and struggled to maintain his balance. When he returned to the front, he saw the rocket leaving Earth's atmosphere. Richard seemed to be focused on flying the ship. It was either that or he just pretended to be unaware of Fred standing beside him. "So, are you going to tell me where Greg is? And what's with moon being haunted?" "Do you remember the last time we went there to mine kinxium?" "Yes, but that was years ago. We made many trips since then," Fred said, trying to remember the relevance of that trip. "Do you remember how Greg almost fell over a ditch and we lost him for two days?" "Yes. But that's normal. People go missing during mining trips all the time," "Yes, but not for two days. I disobeyed protocol and went towards the Kinxium site today" "You shouldn't be doing that, Richard. You know how the boss hates-" Fred stopped talking as Richard raised a hand. The Rocket ship was making its landing on the moon. Richard got up from his seat and grabbed the pistol. As the Rocket landed, Fred saw Greg waving his hands and floating nearby, waiting for them. Fred was relieved to see Greg. At least he was all right. Richard moved towards the door and looked at Fred. He spoke in a whisper, as if he didn't want anyone else to overhear them. "When I went over to the Kinxium site, I found Greg's body under a craneminer machine. Greg has been dead for years now. Whatever is out there, is not Greg." \-------------------- r/abhisek
	[WP] The forces of Heaven and Hell have called a truce in order to deal with a new threat: Afterlyfe™ (brought to you by Amazon-Google-Disney!)	Enjoy life after death like never before with Afterlyfe™! Our team of magical experts has partnered up with the greatest minds at Amazon and Google to bring you an eternal rest experience unlike anything you’ve ever seen. For just $5999.99/month, you can secure your spot in our heavenly halls and gain access to meetings with simulated deities, playdates with your favorite Disney and Marvel characters, sideline views of ESPN sports games, and more. Just can’t get enough? For only $2000.00/month more, you’ll gain access to Afterlyfe+™, where you can share the experience with your friends and family from your former life!\* Start your free trial and satisfy your soul with eternal entertainment today! ^(\*Family members must be deceased from a PG cause and have an existing Afterlyfe+™ subscription to join you. Maximum 3 souls per server.)	Heaven’s gates were wide open and not a single soul was present. The gatekeeper, Peter, scratched his head wondering where everyone had gone to. He quickly picked up the phone to call Peta, who was Hell’s version of Peter. Except, instead of an actual gatekeeper, she was more like their bouncer. “Peta? Can you hear me?” Peter leaned over his desk to make sure no one hid below. Peta grew furious with Peter over the phone. Her hounds were running all over the place, bored out of their minds. Not a single one of them were dragging any frantic souls down. Not long into the conversation, they both realized they had the same problem. “Call him.” Peta pushed. “Call him and figure out what we’re supposed to do.” Peter quickly hung up the phone to dial another number. Instead of calling who Peta requested, he called Death instead. Death did not answer. Peter didn’t know this at the time, but Death was too busy trying to figure out why no one was turning to him once they’d passed. Death found himself standing over an elderly man who’d gone in his sleep. However, the man’s soul never showed. Death dropped his scythe and began using words he’d swore to Peta he’d never use again. Meanwhile, Peter tapped his fingers waiting patiently for Death to answer. Then, Peta showed herself to the gate. Peter locked eyes with her, hanging up the phone again. “What’re you doing here?!” He shouted. “Who’s watching you post?” A young man Peta dragged from a random jail cell stood over her desk in an empty room. “Hello?” he called out nervously, trying to avoid the hounds that were running all over. “Don’t worry, I got someone fully capable to take over,” she lied. “Peter, I have something to show you.” Peter followed her over towards the waiting room. A gentleman who'd been waiting in there for who knows how long was packing up his belongings. Peter quickly gasped realizing that even the waiting rooms were vacant. “Where are you going good sir?” Peter pushed past Peta to confront the gentleman. Peta quickly grabbed onto Peter’s arm and directed his attention onto an old television set featuring a live broadcast from Earth. Peter couldn’t believe what he was watching. “We’re proud to announce Afterlyfe!” Peta positioned herself in front of Peter’s attention. “This broadcast has been going on all day,” she explained. “It has to have something to do with everyone being gone. It just has to.” “Wait, you have TV down there?” Peta flicked his forehead to focus on the matter at hand. She did ease his curiosity explaining that she had private interest in stock for one of the companies involved – but she wouldn’t say who. “Afterlyfe will now house all minds who’ve passed on an online server – an exact replica of our world!” The speaker explained between the applause. Peta’s eyes grew wide as Peter then started to understand what was happening. If they were uploading minds onto a server, individual’s spirits were then tethered with that mind. And, Peter and Peta’s thoughts continued to calculate the horror. If they uploaded one’s spirit, then the shell of that spirit, being the soul, was now being trapped inside of a computer server. That tends to happen though - Earth has a habit of not fully realizing the full effects of technological advances it achieves. “Fuck.” Peta spat. Peter gave her a good glare before she replied, “What? No one’s here.” It was true. That gentleman who had been packing just a bit ago left to go back to earth, in an effort to join the server. Not sure how he'd plan to do so if they were taking minds from the living. But, I digress. “We need a plan of action.” Peter turned back toward the gate. Peta followed him, she wanted to be in on the plan. She needed a break from Hell but didn’t plan on admitting it. Peter continued, “We need a way into that server.” “Why?” Peta grew more interested in his plan. “We’re going to take it down from the inside.” &nbsp; That day was no ordinary day for anyone, especially for the high school students of Franklin High. Both the faculty and students crowded over every monitor available to watch the announcement. “Can you believe it?!” David shoved his friend, Marcus, in excitement. “We’re going to live forever!” The bells rung for the day to be over, but everyone continued to watch the broadcast in place. “Come on, let’s go.” Marcus pulled David away from the television screen. “Wait, they’re about to show us how it works!” “Who cares! We aren’t dying anytime soon. We’ll catch up on it later. I’m not staying here longer than I have to.” Marcus pulled his bag from his locker before continuing to guide David’s attention away from the broadcast. On their way to Marcus' house, both Marcus and David froze when sparks spiraled from a portal over the sidewalk from thin air. Two individuals emerged from the portal in front of them. “Oh my god!” David’s jaw dropped toward the pavement. “Far from it, dear.” Peta smiled. Her and Peter both stood tall in front of the two younger boys. “We need your help.” Peter chimed in. Marcus grabbed hold of David to flee in the opposite direction. “Wait!” Peter appeared in front of them again. “We mean no harm – Well, I can’t speak for Peta, but I assure you we’re only here because we need your help.” “Our help?” Marcus and David kept close together. “Why do you need our help? Who are you two?” “Oh, my manners” Peter took a step back. He greeted both the boys and told them who he was before introducing Peta. David’s eyes widened after Peta’s introduction. Peta blew him a kiss, mocking his fear. “Why do you need our help?” Marcus pressed again. “We need you to help us take down this Afterlyfe server. We need you with us on the inside.” Peter pointed to himself and Peta. “Why us?” Marcus kept at his question. "How will we even get in there?" David joined in. That was when Peta pushed Peter aside ,“You’re going to have to temporarily – uh, die.” David turned to Marcus, “What were you saying earlier about us not dying anytime soon?” Marcus grew impatient. “What?! No way! You never even explained why you want us to do this? I have a couple others that’d probably love to help you instead.” David leaned in, “who we talking about?” Marcus whispered, “those Dorson brothers who are always bothering us at lunch.” “We don’t have time for this!” Peta snapped her fingers. Peter threw his hands out to stop her. He had not yet explained everything to the boys. Everything for both Marcus and David grew dark. Then suddenly, Marcus heard a gasp before the words, ‘Good Luck, boys. We’ll see you in there.’ *** &nbsp; [For more Stories - Yes, brand new](https://www.reddit.com/r/MrNightOwl/)
	[WP] At the end of the street is a path and every month since you can remember your mother left food there. When you asked her about it she only smiled and said, "A gift for the Old Man, who will help us when we need it most." You kept the tradition, and now need help.	The Kindly Old Man As long I can remember, my mother left a plate of food out for an old man who she says eats it. For my entire childhood I was unsure why she did until I asked one day when I was a late teenager. “Mom, why do you leave food out for the old man”, I asked. “Because he will help us when we need it most”, she smiled at me. It’s been a few years since then and I’m an adult now in an apartment of her own. Even if I don’t have much due to my shoddy job, I leave a plate out for him. One day however, my car broke down and I’d walk to work.... which led to me loosing my job. Money got tight and portions got tighter as well. I couldn’t ask my parents cause they lived halfway across the country and I’d no siblings of my own. I ended up just leaving one plate for the Old Man, along with a note, ‘Please help’. The next day, I sent as much job applications as my little bunny heart could. The plate was full of food with a note said, ‘Ok. Please dig in’. Not wanting to upset him, I did. It tasted just like my mother’s meatloaf. I left the other half for him. The next day I got a call, a church heard my plight with my car and are helping pay for the repairs. The Old Man left out a bowl of my mother’s chicken and dumplings, it really warmed my soul up. I left half the bowl. The next day, a local diner called back and asked for me to come in for an interview. The Old Man left out egg salad sandwiches. I ate two of the four sandwiches. Dressing up for the interview, I loudly said before heading out. “Thank you Old Man.” It’s been a few years since then and I still leave a plate out for my dearest friend.	I never really understood why. My mom always did it and so did I. Ever since she passed I figured it would be best if I did. Obviously for awhile I believed her but just like many stories of that sort you sort of just outgrow the idea. It is strange though. Although I don't believe nothing will happen it does leave a sense of security. Every month I will leave some food on the path and by the next it would be gone. I figure it's just the animals near the area but now that I think about it the surrounding area always seems oddly quiet. I've never seen any animals there. In fact I've never seen any other person there. Sometimes I'll look down a path and think I've seen something. But ofcourse, nothing. Ever since my mom died I've seen things all over. Mostly shadows moving from one place to another. I hear whispers. I've had dreams where I was in a forest. Lost. I'd wake up and I'd be perfectly fine. Every night the same dream. It didn't take too long to realize that I wasn't dreaming I was really in a forest. I'd hear sounds of the leaves being stepped on surrounding me. I'd always "wake up" before anything happens. Then the "dreams" became longer. And longer. And longer. The shadows became more clear and frequent and the whispers were louder. I couldn't take it. It was like they were taunting me. My time in the forest was getting worse I'd see the shadows running around from tree to tree. I try to run but I'd always trip. A shadow will grab me and then I'd wake up. It was hopeless. My friends have noticed that I seem stressed lately. Of course I was. Then I started passing out. Just out of nowhere. I figured I was dying. I still went to put the food on the path cause it was, for some reason, the only thing keeping me sane. On the last month I set food on the path I knew sure it was my last time doing this. I was going to die. I hadn't slept in days and the constant fear of what's going to happen has made me stay in bed. I set the food down and I just sat there. Crying. From the distance I hear footsteps. The subtle clacking of dress shoes hitting pavement. I look to see a man standing there. "Hello, I'm the Old man and your mother has told me you need help."
	[WP] A common thing that tips people of that they're dreaming is that their watch is unreadable. After hearing about this, as a joke you look at your watch for the first time in a while, only to realize you can't read it.	The past couple of days have felt really off to me, and I couldn't shake the feeling. I attributed it to so many new experiences becoming a part of my life. I had just flown from my small, Chicago suburb to Ireland, both for my job and to conclusively unite with the love of my life, Tanya. I tried to attribute my unease to elation and/or jet lag. But jet lag doesn't happen on round trips. Maybe the stress of my new job was the cause; going from a waiter to an actual, big boy desk job does carry some stress with it. Moving into a house for the first time adds on to the stress. There's the decorating and the paperwork and meeting the neighbors and the housewarming party. But I feel like it's even more than all of that. It's something more serious. One day, I completely zoned out while eating dinner with Tanya. One moment we were having a conversation about some woman she'd met at a coffee shop, and the next I was gone. It was almost as if my mental capacity had flat lined. It took Tanya almost screaming to bring me back. While at first she had looked annoyed, even angry, her demeanor melted as I felt my eyes well up. Tanya had never gotten angry, especially to the point of having to raise her voice. Everything felt so wrong. I remembered an old saying my dad told me when I was growing up. He said that you can always tell if you dreaming if you can't read your watch. Fortunately for me, my company had given watches out to their employees. I'd never worn mine. Both the office and my house have digital clocks everywhere you turn. I bolted upstairs, pulled open the nightstand, and frantically shuffled through Tanya's necklaces, earrings, all her other jewelry, until I found my watch. I couldn't read it. Even after I blinked and wiped the tears out of my eyes, I couldn't read it. "Jon," a man's voice had bellowed upstairs. "Everyone, I think he's starting to wake up." "Who's there?" I yelled. "What are you talking about?" As I blacked out, I could hear Tanya rushing up the stairs. That's when I realized that the man's voice hadn't been coming from downstairs or anywhere in the house. It had been coming from somewhere above me.	"Gone again are we?" I looked up in surprise. "Sorry, what are we doing?" Lisa's eyes rolled back and she sighed. "You know you need more memory and maybe a watch. Are you ever in the moment or even on time? You know they say if you can't read your watch you're in a dream!" "Oh come off it, I have one riiiiight here" I glanced at my arm for an imaginary watch and found one on my wrist. Another problem was that I had no idea what time it was. I was reading the symbols, but I couldn't comprehend a single thing. "Hellooooo, earth to Zoe." I met Lisa's gaze and felt myself drop into a pit of despair and confusion. I was dreaming? Why was that so scary? "Zo? You okay?" I couldn't answer her back. Every memory I had was playing backwards, and I realized that I couldn't remember my last real moment. Memories weren't supposed to be so clear. Was my whole life a story I invented?! "Zoe!!!!" I jumped and pushed myself back from her. Her hands tightened on my shoulders "Back to me Zoe, what's the matter?" "M-My watch. I can't..." I glanced down at my arm to show her the source of it all. 3:33pm "How?" Lisa relaxed and laughed a little. "Glad to see you back silly." Of course I was! I would never be anywhere else than beside my best friend in the whole world! Edit: Spelling.
	[WP] A common thing that tips people of that they're dreaming is that their watch is unreadable. After hearing about this, as a joke you look at your watch for the first time in a while, only to realize you can't read it.	"I love you." The soft words escaped from smiling crimson lips. I loved the shade of red her lips turned when under the sun. "No, you don't," I said in a playful tone, though I knew her to not be a fan of such banter. She hit me on the shoulder with a force slightly harder than one would consider playful. "I hate when you say that," she said, adjusting her sunglasses which she knocked askew from her nose as she turned to slap my shoulder. "Just a joke," I said and I laughed to myself, "I just say that because I still can't believe you do." "Sometimes I question why I do," she said, readjusting her positioning on her beach chair, and scurrying her fingers along the edges of pages in her book in attempt to rediscover what page she left off on. "Yeah, me too," I said, bringing my arms behind my head, and allowing the breeze coming off the ocean to wick away my sweat. I breathed in a deep breath of ocean air and tasted the salt on my lips. I didn't even notice her brown eyes peaking out from her sunglasses at me. "I'm waiting," she said. "Oh yeah, I love you too," I responded. "Loser," she said. I smiled so wide the muscles of my cheeks began to cramp. They were not used to this movement. Smiling had become a foreign behavior for me after my mother died. After I lost my job. After I got sick. But she taught me how to smile again. She taught me what happiness felt like, and now that I knew it once more, I couldn't imagine feeling anything else. I reached for her hand and she intertwined her fingers with mine. "Must be a good book," I said, commenting about her inability to tear herself away from it. She loved to read. She was an intellectual. It was one of the many things I loved about her. I watched the tide roll in, the foam crested waters travelling closer to our feet dug into the white sand. "It's not bad. The author looks like a real dweeb though," she said referring to the picture of the writer in the book, "but, I guess he's kinda cute." She squeezed my hand. I laughed aloud. It was my book she was reading. "He'll probably never get a girl like you," I said. "Probably not." She squeezed my hand again. I breathed in deep and realized there was nothing else I could possibly wish for in this moment. I had no idea what I had done right to deserve this preview of Heaven, but whatever it was, I had to keep doing it. I needed to stay in this moment forever. "Is it time for lunch yet?" she asked. I could not recall how long we had been out there. I looked down at my wrist to check the time. "Damn," I said, "I must have forgot my watch in the hotel room. Do you have your phone on you?" "Let me check my pocket," she said as she patted her bikini as if it had pockets, "nope, must have left it in the hotel too." "Looks like we'll just have to stay out here forever," I said, the sun shining on my smile. I watched the ocean, reveling in the serenity of the sound of its waves. The ocean sang to me a calming and comforting melody. The only sound I liked more was the sound of her singing. I slid my sunglasses down my nose as I watched the oceanscape begin to change. The waves began to move in mysterious ways. Then, a spout of water gushed into the air. "A whale!" she said and she laughed. Something didn't seem right. Its head peeked out of the foam and it began elevating. "Not just any whale!" she said with childish excitement in her voice. "What?" I said, the word leaving my mouth laced with confusion. The whale began to maneuver into the sky. "A windwhale!" she said. My breath got caught in my chest. "Do you remember when we saw one on our first date?" she asked. "No," I said. Panic started rushing into my veins. I sat up and shook with anxiety. "It's just a windwhale," she said, "calm down, babe. Relax." I couldn't relax. I ran my hand across the front of my shoulder where she had playfully smacked me prior. It didn't hurt, but it should have. I looked down at it. There was no port from which I had been receiving chemo. I looked at the book in her hands. It was a title I'd never written. "No," I said, "no..." I got up and ran to the hotel. I stormed into my room, frantic and on the verge of breakdown. My hands trembled and stumbled through my belongings on the dresser, they tossed a bathing suit, brochures and my wallet out of the way until my fingers gripped my watch, turned upside down. I closed my eyes and breathed hard. "Don't do it," she said, standing in the doorway, "we turned it upside down for a reason. Remember?" I didn't. Despair gripped my chest. "I need to know," I said. "Please. Don't do it," she advised one more time. I turned the watch over to read the time. Except, I couldn't. It was blurred and absent of numbers. It was unreadable. I collapsed to the floor, devastation ruining me. It could not be, that the happiest time of my life wasn't real. I threw the watch across the room. I was ready to open my eyes and remove myself from this dream and return to the doldrums of my depressing life. I felt arms wrap around me. She held me in my place and in my dream, refusing to allow me to wake. "Stay here," she said. "Why?" I asked, near sobbing, "you're not real." "Then what is?" she asked. "My mother's death. Cancer. Unemployment." "What makes that more real than us?" she said. How long could I stay in this dream? How long could I avoid real life? Could I even be happy here anymore, now that I knew the truth? My tears soaked her sunkissed skin as she continued to hold me. "Stay here," she said again. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was where I belonged. Maybe this dream wasn't real but this happiness was, and though it was my subconscious mind which savored it, there was no reason for me to restrict myself from it. I sat up, rising out of the pathetic crumpled heap I had deteriorated into. I wrapped my arms around her. Everything felt right again. "You know," I said, "I think I will." \\\\\* "It was so weird," a nurse said to her husband, unraveling the events of her work day. She put her fork down, the memory she was recalling was stealing her appetite from her. She sat back in her chair, fighting tears. "He was doing so well," she said. Her husband looked on lovingly and gave her time to speak without interruption. "And then he was gone." Her husband grabbed her hand to comfort her. "But the weirdest part," she said, "he passed with the biggest smile on his face." &#x200B; &#x200B; Edited grammar error	"Gone again are we?" I looked up in surprise. "Sorry, what are we doing?" Lisa's eyes rolled back and she sighed. "You know you need more memory and maybe a watch. Are you ever in the moment or even on time? You know they say if you can't read your watch you're in a dream!" "Oh come off it, I have one riiiiight here" I glanced at my arm for an imaginary watch and found one on my wrist. Another problem was that I had no idea what time it was. I was reading the symbols, but I couldn't comprehend a single thing. "Hellooooo, earth to Zoe." I met Lisa's gaze and felt myself drop into a pit of despair and confusion. I was dreaming? Why was that so scary? "Zo? You okay?" I couldn't answer her back. Every memory I had was playing backwards, and I realized that I couldn't remember my last real moment. Memories weren't supposed to be so clear. Was my whole life a story I invented?! "Zoe!!!!" I jumped and pushed myself back from her. Her hands tightened on my shoulders "Back to me Zoe, what's the matter?" "M-My watch. I can't..." I glanced down at my arm to show her the source of it all. 3:33pm "How?" Lisa relaxed and laughed a little. "Glad to see you back silly." Of course I was! I would never be anywhere else than beside my best friend in the whole world! Edit: Spelling.
	[WP] After taking part in an experimental government drug study to create super-soldiers, you start to develop abilities far beyond that of any human being. Only thing is... you were in the placebo group.	I narrowed my eyes and lifted my chin, staring the woman in the white coat down straight in the eyes. Defiance was the only thing I knew now. Defiance, and survival. “Sitka, would you say you’ve been experiencing any pain or injury, physical or otherwise?” I couldn’t help but let out the laugh that burst through my lips. “Other than that stupid little fight club you’re running to see which drug worked the best?” I demanded. My humor is usually dry and sarcastic, but this is a good day. A good day to ruffle somebody’s resolve. “Tell me why I should answer you,” I said sharply. “You kept me in a prison cell like a damn animal. How am I supposed to make any sort of friendly connections with that, hm?” “We seperated you due to the potential danger of your abilities,” The young woman said simply, her pretty eyes widened and her circle glasses brought down a bit so I could get a good look at her face through the thick glass put between us. “It says in my notes that you can do things with your mind,” she continued. “Is that correct? Can you clarify, ‘things’ for me?” I rolled my eyes and leaned back, crossing my arms irritably. Waving my hand absentmindedly, the table in front of me slammed violently against the white padded wall of my cell. Unfortunately it didn’t make any noise. Noise would be a relief here. Anything to just stop the calm, endless quiet of the white padded room. The woman was quiet for a bit before she said, “Sir, you were put in the placebo group,” her voice was sharp and disciplinary, as if I were a child, and I hated every moment of it. “How are you doing this?” “I found a glitch in the matrix,” I replied dryly. “Been maxing it out the past couple months.” “Sir, this is serious!” The young woman jolted upright, but I didn’t budge. Her eyes were frightened, but I glared. As her eyes filled with tears, she whipped around and slammed the clipboard into her superior’s hand. “My husband’s not cooperating,” she sniffled as she left. The superior looked at me for a few moments, with an accusatory look in his eyes, before turning away. I simply narrowed my eyes. She gave me up for her job. So now I’d give her up for my new power.	I woke up today feeling strange,energized even. taking into consideration that I had slept about less than four hours..yea not normal. I slipped out of bed moving my body around, throwing a few punches, doing a little stretching. I even managed to do a backflip.. I never could do one. I didn't feel exhaustion even as I raced around my apartment no sweat, no muscle pain nothing. I needed to get this checked out. I took out my phone planning to book a doctor appointment but then I remembered. "The experimental drug test" I say as I threw my phone on the bed."It's the only logical conclusion" I went to get ready but noticed something strange. "It's levitating" I said confused. My phone instead of being down on my bed was a fingers length above. I had felt strange so this was it. I tried to focus on the phone slowing my thoughts down focusing to release whatever was happening. I felt it click .My phone stopped levitating. It vibrated and I noticed that I had received a message."So we have to meet up so they can note the results" I said. That was good I put my jacket on and put my phone in my pocket and left the apartment. &#x200B; "So everyone's here" The man administering the tests continued "Tell me what changes have you discovered".The others started explaining various improvements such as better concentration, they felt they were stronger etc. I didn't want to reveal what exact improvements I had since the rest of them spoke of minor improvements. So I just said something like I felt stronger. After he took all our results he started explaining. "Let me explain from the beginning ,as you know these pills were supposed to improve all physical abilities of a person, but to see the effectiveness of the results we had to assign a placebo group" he pointed at a couple of people of which I was present. As he continued I stopped listening to him and kept a hand on my head."If this wasn't the drugs effect then what is it" I couldn't let them know about this. As I left the drug study clinic just as confused as before I thought what could be the reason for my sudden abilities. The placebo effect couldn't be so powerful as to give me actual powers. The only thing that would make sense was if I was always this powerful or I had this power in me from the beginning but for some reason it was locked. I banged the wall in frustration that left a dent."Shit" I said as I left the place. Even with powers I was still the same normal person, that is until I'm found out. I was bored and I wanted to test these powers. I looked up and saw a bank."Telekinesis and my superhuman strength would make it easy wouldn't it" I mumbled. I was tired of being a poor student without any funds. It was time for me to begin a life of crime.
	[WP] After taking part in an experimental government drug study to create super-soldiers, you start to develop abilities far beyond that of any human being. Only thing is... you were in the placebo group.	The experiment was a success, my reactions were much faster, I was strong enough to carry a minigun and I didn't need my glasses anymore. The doctors said I could experience heightened perception as a side effect of the treatment, though my agility could suffer. I always felt sick now. The doctors said this could be a side effect before we started the experiment but I didn't expect it to feel this prominent, like constant motion sickness. I remember being sedated, as the drugs couldn't take hold while awake, and weirdly I woke upright. Since the experiment I couldn't lay down, and had to sleep standing, as strange as it was to start with this became the norm. I stand on a battleship now, the crew look at me like I'm some sort of mis-shapen creature. Other crew members wearing our power armour exoskeletons nod as we pass. The procedure was similar to what they went under before relenting their life to being stuck in a suit of titanium and hydraulics. Sleeping upright, visors on permanently, heightening their strength and... Oh god.	I woke up today feeling strange,energized even. taking into consideration that I had slept about less than four hours..yea not normal. I slipped out of bed moving my body around, throwing a few punches, doing a little stretching. I even managed to do a backflip.. I never could do one. I didn't feel exhaustion even as I raced around my apartment no sweat, no muscle pain nothing. I needed to get this checked out. I took out my phone planning to book a doctor appointment but then I remembered. "The experimental drug test" I say as I threw my phone on the bed."It's the only logical conclusion" I went to get ready but noticed something strange. "It's levitating" I said confused. My phone instead of being down on my bed was a fingers length above. I had felt strange so this was it. I tried to focus on the phone slowing my thoughts down focusing to release whatever was happening. I felt it click .My phone stopped levitating. It vibrated and I noticed that I had received a message."So we have to meet up so they can note the results" I said. That was good I put my jacket on and put my phone in my pocket and left the apartment. &#x200B; "So everyone's here" The man administering the tests continued "Tell me what changes have you discovered".The others started explaining various improvements such as better concentration, they felt they were stronger etc. I didn't want to reveal what exact improvements I had since the rest of them spoke of minor improvements. So I just said something like I felt stronger. After he took all our results he started explaining. "Let me explain from the beginning ,as you know these pills were supposed to improve all physical abilities of a person, but to see the effectiveness of the results we had to assign a placebo group" he pointed at a couple of people of which I was present. As he continued I stopped listening to him and kept a hand on my head."If this wasn't the drugs effect then what is it" I couldn't let them know about this. As I left the drug study clinic just as confused as before I thought what could be the reason for my sudden abilities. The placebo effect couldn't be so powerful as to give me actual powers. The only thing that would make sense was if I was always this powerful or I had this power in me from the beginning but for some reason it was locked. I banged the wall in frustration that left a dent."Shit" I said as I left the place. Even with powers I was still the same normal person, that is until I'm found out. I was bored and I wanted to test these powers. I looked up and saw a bank."Telekinesis and my superhuman strength would make it easy wouldn't it" I mumbled. I was tired of being a poor student without any funds. It was time for me to begin a life of crime.
	[WP] After taking part in an experimental government drug study to create super-soldiers, you start to develop abilities far beyond that of any human being. Only thing is... you were in the placebo group.	"What the fuck is happening to me!!!!" I yelled with my hands raised straight to the ceiling while standing in a puddle of blood, viscera and according to my pants, my urine. While soldiers dressed in armor that looks dangerously close to getting sued by Lucasfilms pointed their assault rifles to my face. "Don't move a single inch or we will shoot, you asshole!" The lead mandalorian wannabe said to me with his index finger on the guns book boom button. "I'm the fucking asshole now!?! You Einsteins did the experiment on me. You said i was gonna get super strength or something like that? No one said anything about this!!!!" I hysterically yelled at the Stormdoofus. By "this", i meant the science guy who checked up on me just a few moments ago because i was writhing in unimaginable pain just became science paste plastered around the walls of the room. It felt like a bunch of little razors were slicing me bit by bit inside and when he touched me it felt like the razor blades got fired from my body in a heartbeat. And in that short span of time i literally heard the absolutely sickening squelch of rendered person splattering everywhere. Even my restraints and my shirt and bed where shredded. Whatever they injected into me must have done this. Oh god.... What's going to happen to me... I thought to myself while staring down over a dozen of rifle barrels trained at me. A couple of minutes of what could be construed as cuban missile crisis level of stress passed, me trying to not move a single muscle even though my arms are starting to cramp up from being raised and the soldiers on the opposite side, hopefully realizing that violence is never the answer. Then an old german guy's voice came from the door. "Let me in! Let me in you dolts! Put your guns down!!!" A scientist by the name of Dr. Ludwig von Scheintod squeezed through the soldiers and ordered them to stand down. Dr von Scheintod is the absolute splitting image of what a mad German scientist looks like. Long white messy hair? Check. Bushy walrus like mustache? Check. Thick German accent? Double-check. Really thick glasses. Yup. The soldiers put down their guns like the good fucking assholes that they are. The doctor approached me and asked what happened. I told him how i was feeling and what happened to the guy who checked up on me. He looks around called his assistants to pick up their colleagues remains(if you could called minced man, remains, anymore), for tests. Before anything else happens. I managed to ask Dr. Von Scheintod. What the heck did they do to me He looked at me seriously and with that German look of absolute seriousness he said. "We didn't do anything to you. You're part of the placebo group." What the hell is happening to me then... I was asked to clean myself up and was transferred to a much more secured room. With a single table, a tv, personal bathroom and shower and moat importantly, wifi, although it was restricted to read only, so no social media. I was a test subject not a caged animal. My stay in this room has been... Lonely. I've been essentially put into solitary confinement. Days, turn into weeks. Test after test been done on me. I've slowly managed to get the grips on my abilities. I can cut anything i want if i focus on it. I started to learn how to harness the cutting force when i was playing fruit ninja on my phone when i was concentrating on a particularly difficult challenge and i managed to slice my phone cleanly into two with the swipe of my finger. This is my 7th phone. Thanks, taxpayers. And i can control when i cut now. Its been months now I've been stuck in doors. I managed to befriend the guards. I decided to start listening to music to pass the time. Before i knew it i gravitated to emo music. Isolation can do that to you. Lol. And since it been a long time my hair has been growing longer. Finally. Finally after 5 months of being in the same room and making sure i wasnt going to hurt myself or anybody else. Doctor von Scheintod handed me a folder. It's the results of his study regarding my abilities. And on the front my new codename. Project: Edgelord.	I woke up today feeling strange,energized even. taking into consideration that I had slept about less than four hours..yea not normal. I slipped out of bed moving my body around, throwing a few punches, doing a little stretching. I even managed to do a backflip.. I never could do one. I didn't feel exhaustion even as I raced around my apartment no sweat, no muscle pain nothing. I needed to get this checked out. I took out my phone planning to book a doctor appointment but then I remembered. "The experimental drug test" I say as I threw my phone on the bed."It's the only logical conclusion" I went to get ready but noticed something strange. "It's levitating" I said confused. My phone instead of being down on my bed was a fingers length above. I had felt strange so this was it. I tried to focus on the phone slowing my thoughts down focusing to release whatever was happening. I felt it click .My phone stopped levitating. It vibrated and I noticed that I had received a message."So we have to meet up so they can note the results" I said. That was good I put my jacket on and put my phone in my pocket and left the apartment. &#x200B; "So everyone's here" The man administering the tests continued "Tell me what changes have you discovered".The others started explaining various improvements such as better concentration, they felt they were stronger etc. I didn't want to reveal what exact improvements I had since the rest of them spoke of minor improvements. So I just said something like I felt stronger. After he took all our results he started explaining. "Let me explain from the beginning ,as you know these pills were supposed to improve all physical abilities of a person, but to see the effectiveness of the results we had to assign a placebo group" he pointed at a couple of people of which I was present. As he continued I stopped listening to him and kept a hand on my head."If this wasn't the drugs effect then what is it" I couldn't let them know about this. As I left the drug study clinic just as confused as before I thought what could be the reason for my sudden abilities. The placebo effect couldn't be so powerful as to give me actual powers. The only thing that would make sense was if I was always this powerful or I had this power in me from the beginning but for some reason it was locked. I banged the wall in frustration that left a dent."Shit" I said as I left the place. Even with powers I was still the same normal person, that is until I'm found out. I was bored and I wanted to test these powers. I looked up and saw a bank."Telekinesis and my superhuman strength would make it easy wouldn't it" I mumbled. I was tired of being a poor student without any funds. It was time for me to begin a life of crime.
	[WP] After taking part in an experimental government drug study to create super-soldiers, you start to develop abilities far beyond that of any human being. Only thing is... you were in the placebo group.	Ding. "Target, 300 metres, bearing 040." Ding. "Target, 200 metres, bearing 220." Ding. "Target, bearing 100." Son of a bitch didn't call out a distance this time. It didn't matter. Still heard the ding. I heard the click of the stopwatch. "Another record time, oh-four-four." The Gunnery Sergeant was the one on top of all the tests, but he was running mine personally. "Do the run around the compound, pick up oh-thirteen though oh-nineteen on the way and bring them back here." The run around the compound was two kilometres, but we were barely sweating by the time we got back to the Gunny. A run in full gear all the way around the compound and we were still ready to shoot at a moment's notice. "Everyone at attention. The labcoats are satisfied with the test results, but-" The Gunny was cut off by Dr. Kieran, the designer of our chemical upgrades and the one at the top of the whole program. "But we won't be continuing the testing. You'll be returning to service in the 14th CAT-SOCOM unit." Until that day we had all been tested alone, but after that we always trained together. We'd made it, we were a unit. Now that the tests were over, the training regimens were entirely under the control of the Sergeant Major on base, who put us through grueling live-fire exercises and multiple-day long simulation missions. We slept, shat, ate- all together. CINCSOCOM wasn't satisfied with building 48 super-soldiers, he wanted 6 teams of super-soldiers, and for that, we needed to be welded like metal. Of course, HIGHCOM wasn't happy about CAT-SOCOM building a personal army of indestructible super-soldiers, but in the months to come, they quickly turned and pleaded with the gracious CINCSOCOM for our deployment. They had been caught flat-footed by the attacks on the Proxima colony, and they needed an ace in the hole. They needed us. One night, 016 had snuck in and out of our barracks. He did it often, but this was a particular night. I didn't question what he was doing out there, but on that night he seemed shaken when he returned. He had a particularly sharp eye, he was quicker to see things than most of us, even me. I decided to ask him what he'd seen. Apparently the Gunny had been in an argument with Doctor Kieran. I asked what they were arguing about and 016 was silent for a few moments. Then he said he didn't overhear them. The next week he was transferred out of our unit and replaced with 033. I never questioned it. When we deployed to the Proxima next to the ETI and Interplanetary Armour detachment sent by HIGHCOM, we were glad to finally have a real fight over a live-fire exercise. All those years of training had us thinking we were prepared to fight. When it finally came down to the battle lines, we cut deep into the enemy lines and were named the Butchers of Armies by our foes. Eventually the enemy command had enough of our obliterating their army in ground combat and decided that they wanted us dead before they moved onto anything else. "Ground, this is Alpha." "Ground reads, send traffic." "Need an evac on our position, multiple wounded and large number of hostiles." "We read- zzt ing, hol ksh" The radio died, so we were cut off, but we had gotten our evac call out. We were the last ones standing. Three of us alive, two out of the fight and another three dead. We were being pushed backward, inch by inch though the outer colony structures. It was bleak. Kill a man? Three more come out, better armed. Kill another? An armoured vehicle arrives. They would not quit the chase, no matter the cost. So we had them pay a few lives for every yard they took. It wouldn't be enough. Eventually they pushed us all the way out of the urban streets and into the hills and valleys, the abandoned camps and facilities. The airstrikes got more and more frequent the further out we got. We lost both of our wounded and one of our living. It was just myself and 033. We gunned down the last of the infantry that we figured they were going to send for us, and sat down in the pillbox of the abandoned outpost. "Fourty-four, they're gonna drop some one-oh-five arti' on us, so I want to talk to you before we lose the chance." 033 was sorrowful. "Before oh-sixteen got transferred out to Intel, he told me what he heard that night. He told you he didn't hear anything, but he had." I sat forward, interested. 016 had been one of my closest friends before he transferred out. The idea he had lied to me wasn't totally alien to me, but I always trusted he had his reasons. 033 checked his last rounds of ammunition. "Oh-sixteen snuck up and he heard it all. The Gunny was outraged that the Doctor didn't tell you, but the doc insisted that it was for your own good." He transferred the rounds from his near empty magazines into one magazine, and loaded that into his rifle. "The 14th CAT-SOCOM Unit never received the augmentation chemicals. You were under placebo. With the only exception being myself- I transferred in." Placebo. It didn't make any sense, we had operated alongside the other units and performed joint exercises. We were all just as effective. Placebo isn't 100% effective. Of course it didn't really matter then, we were about to die, but it had clearly hurt 033 to keep this secret from me for so long. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Brother, don't cry. You just gave me a gift, so there's no reason to be sad." He nodded, took a deep breath and exhaled. Then the pillbox exploded. We were torn away from our respite and thrown back onto the battlefield. There was no more retreat. A whole platoon of enemy infantry was converging onto us. 033 looked at me, and I back at him. We weren't going to be caught with a single round of unspent ammunition on our person. Automatic fire rang out across the rubble. We were beaten and bleeding from the bombing, but we were true to our word. When our rifles ran dry we pulled out our sidearms, and when we had emptied those, we prepared to fight hand to hand. Our last moments weren't going to be those of an experiment, but those of warriors. A warrior isn't something made in a test tube, but born in fire. The strong life we lived takes a toll- a toll which we paid in the blood of our enemies. But God would make us dead before he would make us old- a fighting death was all we asked for, and He did not disappoint.	I woke up today feeling strange,energized even. taking into consideration that I had slept about less than four hours..yea not normal. I slipped out of bed moving my body around, throwing a few punches, doing a little stretching. I even managed to do a backflip.. I never could do one. I didn't feel exhaustion even as I raced around my apartment no sweat, no muscle pain nothing. I needed to get this checked out. I took out my phone planning to book a doctor appointment but then I remembered. "The experimental drug test" I say as I threw my phone on the bed."It's the only logical conclusion" I went to get ready but noticed something strange. "It's levitating" I said confused. My phone instead of being down on my bed was a fingers length above. I had felt strange so this was it. I tried to focus on the phone slowing my thoughts down focusing to release whatever was happening. I felt it click .My phone stopped levitating. It vibrated and I noticed that I had received a message."So we have to meet up so they can note the results" I said. That was good I put my jacket on and put my phone in my pocket and left the apartment. &#x200B; "So everyone's here" The man administering the tests continued "Tell me what changes have you discovered".The others started explaining various improvements such as better concentration, they felt they were stronger etc. I didn't want to reveal what exact improvements I had since the rest of them spoke of minor improvements. So I just said something like I felt stronger. After he took all our results he started explaining. "Let me explain from the beginning ,as you know these pills were supposed to improve all physical abilities of a person, but to see the effectiveness of the results we had to assign a placebo group" he pointed at a couple of people of which I was present. As he continued I stopped listening to him and kept a hand on my head."If this wasn't the drugs effect then what is it" I couldn't let them know about this. As I left the drug study clinic just as confused as before I thought what could be the reason for my sudden abilities. The placebo effect couldn't be so powerful as to give me actual powers. The only thing that would make sense was if I was always this powerful or I had this power in me from the beginning but for some reason it was locked. I banged the wall in frustration that left a dent."Shit" I said as I left the place. Even with powers I was still the same normal person, that is until I'm found out. I was bored and I wanted to test these powers. I looked up and saw a bank."Telekinesis and my superhuman strength would make it easy wouldn't it" I mumbled. I was tired of being a poor student without any funds. It was time for me to begin a life of crime.
	[WP] After taking part in an experimental government drug study to create super-soldiers, you start to develop abilities far beyond that of any human being. Only thing is... you were in the placebo group.	(1/2) You know, people tell me all the time how lucky I was to have gotten into that study. You know the one I'm talking about, I'm sure. It's no big secret now, after all, not since the US government finally realized they couldn't hide me if I didn't want to be hidden. Yeah, Project Helios. Took place in an underground military complex north of Michigan. Yeah, I know, weird place to put a military base, but what're you gonna do? How did I get pulled in? Oh, the usual thing, really. I was jobless and bumming around trying to sort out my life back home. I'd done a tour in the military but it didn't really...stick. No dishonorable discharge or anything, just finished up my tour and couldn't think of any real reason to stick around. What? No, I'm not bashing the military or anything. If that's your bag, get yourself in there. It just wasn't right for me anymore with where my head was at is all. Anyway, Project Helios. Answered an ad for a clinical drug trial. Wasn't really doing anything and I fit the criteria pretty well; former vet, right age, pretty healthy, no addictions or diseases. Hell, I thought I just saw it as two weeks of pay, that's all. They were pretty up front with us, right out of the gate. Told us that they'd come up with a new serum, part of some hush hush super soldier program and that after some mild success in initial trials, they were trying to test certain specific aspects of the transition from regular human to modified human. Specifically, they had an eye on the mental transition. They wanted to investigate how a person adapted to the fact that they were superhuman, if you get what I mean. Now don't get me wrong, the Helios project wasn't intending to create like...superheroes or anything. The serum was just meant to augment physical strength and speed, endurance, healing, things like that. The former soldiers in my group in the Helios tests were supposed to be stronger and better soldiers, but still just...better soldiers, you know what I mean? They weren't supposed to create me, I guess is what I'm trying to say. The batch of us who got the actual serum started noticing the changes almost immediately. Within a week, those idiots were in the gym, laughing like a bunch of donkeys as they benched three hundred to three hundred fifty pounds without breaking a sweat. For the rest of us, the ones who got the placebo as part of the control group, well, the changes took a longer time coming, but when they hit, man, did they ever hit. What? Yeah, we kept it quiet at first. Those of us who weren't in the gym breaking world records for weight lifting and track started to meet quietly on the side, to see if we had the same changes happening to us. A big chunk of us, nothing had changed. Weaklings without imagination, I guess. But for some of us...well, we started noticing the changes pretty quick. Changes not just related to being stronger and faster but...different. Way different. Everyone knows about the disaster at the Helios project site. The place is nothing but a crater now. The government had to unclassify the whole thing after a while in a bid to gain more information about who I was, trying to find people connected to me so that they could apply leverage and bring me back into the loving fold of the military industrial complex...well fuck that is all I had to say. It's the dream of every small boy to become a super hero and I wasn't about to share that secret with the world at the time. Hell, I wanted to have my fun with it first, do you know what I mean? And if we're being really 'accurate' about the whole thing, I suppose the term 'super hero' isn't exactly the best phrase to use in this case, is it? I imagine most of the world would prefer that I use the term 'super villain' instead, am I right? I tried to be good...at first. You've heard the stories from thirty years ago, I imagine. I made myself up a costume and did the whole fighting crime bit for about a year or two. But let me tell you something. You know that old phrase about power corrupting and absolute power corrupting absolutely? Boy howdy, those guys back then knew all they needed to know about human nature, that's for damned sure.	I woke up today feeling strange,energized even. taking into consideration that I had slept about less than four hours..yea not normal. I slipped out of bed moving my body around, throwing a few punches, doing a little stretching. I even managed to do a backflip.. I never could do one. I didn't feel exhaustion even as I raced around my apartment no sweat, no muscle pain nothing. I needed to get this checked out. I took out my phone planning to book a doctor appointment but then I remembered. "The experimental drug test" I say as I threw my phone on the bed."It's the only logical conclusion" I went to get ready but noticed something strange. "It's levitating" I said confused. My phone instead of being down on my bed was a fingers length above. I had felt strange so this was it. I tried to focus on the phone slowing my thoughts down focusing to release whatever was happening. I felt it click .My phone stopped levitating. It vibrated and I noticed that I had received a message."So we have to meet up so they can note the results" I said. That was good I put my jacket on and put my phone in my pocket and left the apartment. &#x200B; "So everyone's here" The man administering the tests continued "Tell me what changes have you discovered".The others started explaining various improvements such as better concentration, they felt they were stronger etc. I didn't want to reveal what exact improvements I had since the rest of them spoke of minor improvements. So I just said something like I felt stronger. After he took all our results he started explaining. "Let me explain from the beginning ,as you know these pills were supposed to improve all physical abilities of a person, but to see the effectiveness of the results we had to assign a placebo group" he pointed at a couple of people of which I was present. As he continued I stopped listening to him and kept a hand on my head."If this wasn't the drugs effect then what is it" I couldn't let them know about this. As I left the drug study clinic just as confused as before I thought what could be the reason for my sudden abilities. The placebo effect couldn't be so powerful as to give me actual powers. The only thing that would make sense was if I was always this powerful or I had this power in me from the beginning but for some reason it was locked. I banged the wall in frustration that left a dent."Shit" I said as I left the place. Even with powers I was still the same normal person, that is until I'm found out. I was bored and I wanted to test these powers. I looked up and saw a bank."Telekinesis and my superhuman strength would make it easy wouldn't it" I mumbled. I was tired of being a poor student without any funds. It was time for me to begin a life of crime.
	[WP] After taking part in an experimental government drug study to create super-soldiers, you start to develop abilities far beyond that of any human being. Only thing is... you were in the placebo group.	“3 counts of first-degree murder. 5 counts of assault with intent to kill. One count of breaking and entering a federal compound. Do you protest your charges?” The man kept his unblinking stare on the chains that shackled his hands, seated in the shadows of his own darkness. His face was still as a grave. Scowling, the younger of the two detectives stood up and slammed her hands on the table in front of them. “You decapitated one of the scientists with your bare hands. It’s all on camera. We have you.” she spat, “You are a monster.” The man’s lips curled into a smile. Finally, he spoke. “If I am a monster, then I have destroyed Frankenstein. You should thank me for stopping them.” Cocking his eyebrow, the older detective set his folders down on and leaned back in his chair. “And what did you stop them from?” he asked. The man in front of him looked up. A pale face beset with furrows stared back. Deep, black rings encircled his eyes but his gaze blazed through like fire in the night. “Look. Look at what they did to me.”, the man whispered in a low growl. “Everyday they injected us with God knows what. Like we were sick animals.” The man’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his chains. What was once a glooming dark figure straightened up into a righteous fire of indignation. “Everyday they made us do tests. Everyday they watched us. Some of us are gone, taken to God knows where.”, he snarled. He turned to the younger detective and continued with a bitter edge, “You are right. I may as well be a monster because I sure am not a human anymore.” He let a brief silence punctuate the room. It was the older detective who spoke next. He tapped on the folder in front of him and shook his head. “It says here they gave you placebo.”	I woke up today feeling strange,energized even. taking into consideration that I had slept about less than four hours..yea not normal. I slipped out of bed moving my body around, throwing a few punches, doing a little stretching. I even managed to do a backflip.. I never could do one. I didn't feel exhaustion even as I raced around my apartment no sweat, no muscle pain nothing. I needed to get this checked out. I took out my phone planning to book a doctor appointment but then I remembered. "The experimental drug test" I say as I threw my phone on the bed."It's the only logical conclusion" I went to get ready but noticed something strange. "It's levitating" I said confused. My phone instead of being down on my bed was a fingers length above. I had felt strange so this was it. I tried to focus on the phone slowing my thoughts down focusing to release whatever was happening. I felt it click .My phone stopped levitating. It vibrated and I noticed that I had received a message."So we have to meet up so they can note the results" I said. That was good I put my jacket on and put my phone in my pocket and left the apartment. &#x200B; "So everyone's here" The man administering the tests continued "Tell me what changes have you discovered".The others started explaining various improvements such as better concentration, they felt they were stronger etc. I didn't want to reveal what exact improvements I had since the rest of them spoke of minor improvements. So I just said something like I felt stronger. After he took all our results he started explaining. "Let me explain from the beginning ,as you know these pills were supposed to improve all physical abilities of a person, but to see the effectiveness of the results we had to assign a placebo group" he pointed at a couple of people of which I was present. As he continued I stopped listening to him and kept a hand on my head."If this wasn't the drugs effect then what is it" I couldn't let them know about this. As I left the drug study clinic just as confused as before I thought what could be the reason for my sudden abilities. The placebo effect couldn't be so powerful as to give me actual powers. The only thing that would make sense was if I was always this powerful or I had this power in me from the beginning but for some reason it was locked. I banged the wall in frustration that left a dent."Shit" I said as I left the place. Even with powers I was still the same normal person, that is until I'm found out. I was bored and I wanted to test these powers. I looked up and saw a bank."Telekinesis and my superhuman strength would make it easy wouldn't it" I mumbled. I was tired of being a poor student without any funds. It was time for me to begin a life of crime.
	[WP] After taking part in an experimental government drug study to create super-soldiers, you start to develop abilities far beyond that of any human being. Only thing is... you were in the placebo group.	"What the fuck is happening to me!!!!" I yelled with my hands raised straight to the ceiling while standing in a puddle of blood, viscera and according to my pants, my urine. While soldiers dressed in armor that looks dangerously close to getting sued by Lucasfilms pointed their assault rifles to my face. "Don't move a single inch or we will shoot, you asshole!" The lead mandalorian wannabe said to me with his index finger on the guns book boom button. "I'm the fucking asshole now!?! You Einsteins did the experiment on me. You said i was gonna get super strength or something like that? No one said anything about this!!!!" I hysterically yelled at the Stormdoofus. By "this", i meant the science guy who checked up on me just a few moments ago because i was writhing in unimaginable pain just became science paste plastered around the walls of the room. It felt like a bunch of little razors were slicing me bit by bit inside and when he touched me it felt like the razor blades got fired from my body in a heartbeat. And in that short span of time i literally heard the absolutely sickening squelch of rendered person splattering everywhere. Even my restraints and my shirt and bed where shredded. Whatever they injected into me must have done this. Oh god.... What's going to happen to me... I thought to myself while staring down over a dozen of rifle barrels trained at me. A couple of minutes of what could be construed as cuban missile crisis level of stress passed, me trying to not move a single muscle even though my arms are starting to cramp up from being raised and the soldiers on the opposite side, hopefully realizing that violence is never the answer. Then an old german guy's voice came from the door. "Let me in! Let me in you dolts! Put your guns down!!!" A scientist by the name of Dr. Ludwig von Scheintod squeezed through the soldiers and ordered them to stand down. Dr von Scheintod is the absolute splitting image of what a mad German scientist looks like. Long white messy hair? Check. Bushy walrus like mustache? Check. Thick German accent? Double-check. Really thick glasses. Yup. The soldiers put down their guns like the good fucking assholes that they are. The doctor approached me and asked what happened. I told him how i was feeling and what happened to the guy who checked up on me. He looks around called his assistants to pick up their colleagues remains(if you could called minced man, remains, anymore), for tests. Before anything else happens. I managed to ask Dr. Von Scheintod. What the heck did they do to me He looked at me seriously and with that German look of absolute seriousness he said. "We didn't do anything to you. You're part of the placebo group." What the hell is happening to me then... I was asked to clean myself up and was transferred to a much more secured room. With a single table, a tv, personal bathroom and shower and moat importantly, wifi, although it was restricted to read only, so no social media. I was a test subject not a caged animal. My stay in this room has been... Lonely. I've been essentially put into solitary confinement. Days, turn into weeks. Test after test been done on me. I've slowly managed to get the grips on my abilities. I can cut anything i want if i focus on it. I started to learn how to harness the cutting force when i was playing fruit ninja on my phone when i was concentrating on a particularly difficult challenge and i managed to slice my phone cleanly into two with the swipe of my finger. This is my 7th phone. Thanks, taxpayers. And i can control when i cut now. Its been months now I've been stuck in doors. I managed to befriend the guards. I decided to start listening to music to pass the time. Before i knew it i gravitated to emo music. Isolation can do that to you. Lol. And since it been a long time my hair has been growing longer. Finally. Finally after 5 months of being in the same room and making sure i wasnt going to hurt myself or anybody else. Doctor von Scheintod handed me a folder. It's the results of his study regarding my abilities. And on the front my new codename. Project: Edgelord.	The experiment was a success, my reactions were much faster, I was strong enough to carry a minigun and I didn't need my glasses anymore. The doctors said I could experience heightened perception as a side effect of the treatment, though my agility could suffer. I always felt sick now. The doctors said this could be a side effect before we started the experiment but I didn't expect it to feel this prominent, like constant motion sickness. I remember being sedated, as the drugs couldn't take hold while awake, and weirdly I woke upright. Since the experiment I couldn't lay down, and had to sleep standing, as strange as it was to start with this became the norm. I stand on a battleship now, the crew look at me like I'm some sort of mis-shapen creature. Other crew members wearing our power armour exoskeletons nod as we pass. The procedure was similar to what they went under before relenting their life to being stuck in a suit of titanium and hydraulics. Sleeping upright, visors on permanently, heightening their strength and... Oh god.
	[WP] After taking part in an experimental government drug study to create super-soldiers, you start to develop abilities far beyond that of any human being. Only thing is... you were in the placebo group.	(1/2) You know, people tell me all the time how lucky I was to have gotten into that study. You know the one I'm talking about, I'm sure. It's no big secret now, after all, not since the US government finally realized they couldn't hide me if I didn't want to be hidden. Yeah, Project Helios. Took place in an underground military complex north of Michigan. Yeah, I know, weird place to put a military base, but what're you gonna do? How did I get pulled in? Oh, the usual thing, really. I was jobless and bumming around trying to sort out my life back home. I'd done a tour in the military but it didn't really...stick. No dishonorable discharge or anything, just finished up my tour and couldn't think of any real reason to stick around. What? No, I'm not bashing the military or anything. If that's your bag, get yourself in there. It just wasn't right for me anymore with where my head was at is all. Anyway, Project Helios. Answered an ad for a clinical drug trial. Wasn't really doing anything and I fit the criteria pretty well; former vet, right age, pretty healthy, no addictions or diseases. Hell, I thought I just saw it as two weeks of pay, that's all. They were pretty up front with us, right out of the gate. Told us that they'd come up with a new serum, part of some hush hush super soldier program and that after some mild success in initial trials, they were trying to test certain specific aspects of the transition from regular human to modified human. Specifically, they had an eye on the mental transition. They wanted to investigate how a person adapted to the fact that they were superhuman, if you get what I mean. Now don't get me wrong, the Helios project wasn't intending to create like...superheroes or anything. The serum was just meant to augment physical strength and speed, endurance, healing, things like that. The former soldiers in my group in the Helios tests were supposed to be stronger and better soldiers, but still just...better soldiers, you know what I mean? They weren't supposed to create me, I guess is what I'm trying to say. The batch of us who got the actual serum started noticing the changes almost immediately. Within a week, those idiots were in the gym, laughing like a bunch of donkeys as they benched three hundred to three hundred fifty pounds without breaking a sweat. For the rest of us, the ones who got the placebo as part of the control group, well, the changes took a longer time coming, but when they hit, man, did they ever hit. What? Yeah, we kept it quiet at first. Those of us who weren't in the gym breaking world records for weight lifting and track started to meet quietly on the side, to see if we had the same changes happening to us. A big chunk of us, nothing had changed. Weaklings without imagination, I guess. But for some of us...well, we started noticing the changes pretty quick. Changes not just related to being stronger and faster but...different. Way different. Everyone knows about the disaster at the Helios project site. The place is nothing but a crater now. The government had to unclassify the whole thing after a while in a bid to gain more information about who I was, trying to find people connected to me so that they could apply leverage and bring me back into the loving fold of the military industrial complex...well fuck that is all I had to say. It's the dream of every small boy to become a super hero and I wasn't about to share that secret with the world at the time. Hell, I wanted to have my fun with it first, do you know what I mean? And if we're being really 'accurate' about the whole thing, I suppose the term 'super hero' isn't exactly the best phrase to use in this case, is it? I imagine most of the world would prefer that I use the term 'super villain' instead, am I right? I tried to be good...at first. You've heard the stories from thirty years ago, I imagine. I made myself up a costume and did the whole fighting crime bit for about a year or two. But let me tell you something. You know that old phrase about power corrupting and absolute power corrupting absolutely? Boy howdy, those guys back then knew all they needed to know about human nature, that's for damned sure.	The experiment was a success, my reactions were much faster, I was strong enough to carry a minigun and I didn't need my glasses anymore. The doctors said I could experience heightened perception as a side effect of the treatment, though my agility could suffer. I always felt sick now. The doctors said this could be a side effect before we started the experiment but I didn't expect it to feel this prominent, like constant motion sickness. I remember being sedated, as the drugs couldn't take hold while awake, and weirdly I woke upright. Since the experiment I couldn't lay down, and had to sleep standing, as strange as it was to start with this became the norm. I stand on a battleship now, the crew look at me like I'm some sort of mis-shapen creature. Other crew members wearing our power armour exoskeletons nod as we pass. The procedure was similar to what they went under before relenting their life to being stuck in a suit of titanium and hydraulics. Sleeping upright, visors on permanently, heightening their strength and... Oh god.
	[WP] After taking part in an experimental government drug study to create super-soldiers, you start to develop abilities far beyond that of any human being. Only thing is... you were in the placebo group.	(1/2) You know, people tell me all the time how lucky I was to have gotten into that study. You know the one I'm talking about, I'm sure. It's no big secret now, after all, not since the US government finally realized they couldn't hide me if I didn't want to be hidden. Yeah, Project Helios. Took place in an underground military complex north of Michigan. Yeah, I know, weird place to put a military base, but what're you gonna do? How did I get pulled in? Oh, the usual thing, really. I was jobless and bumming around trying to sort out my life back home. I'd done a tour in the military but it didn't really...stick. No dishonorable discharge or anything, just finished up my tour and couldn't think of any real reason to stick around. What? No, I'm not bashing the military or anything. If that's your bag, get yourself in there. It just wasn't right for me anymore with where my head was at is all. Anyway, Project Helios. Answered an ad for a clinical drug trial. Wasn't really doing anything and I fit the criteria pretty well; former vet, right age, pretty healthy, no addictions or diseases. Hell, I thought I just saw it as two weeks of pay, that's all. They were pretty up front with us, right out of the gate. Told us that they'd come up with a new serum, part of some hush hush super soldier program and that after some mild success in initial trials, they were trying to test certain specific aspects of the transition from regular human to modified human. Specifically, they had an eye on the mental transition. They wanted to investigate how a person adapted to the fact that they were superhuman, if you get what I mean. Now don't get me wrong, the Helios project wasn't intending to create like...superheroes or anything. The serum was just meant to augment physical strength and speed, endurance, healing, things like that. The former soldiers in my group in the Helios tests were supposed to be stronger and better soldiers, but still just...better soldiers, you know what I mean? They weren't supposed to create me, I guess is what I'm trying to say. The batch of us who got the actual serum started noticing the changes almost immediately. Within a week, those idiots were in the gym, laughing like a bunch of donkeys as they benched three hundred to three hundred fifty pounds without breaking a sweat. For the rest of us, the ones who got the placebo as part of the control group, well, the changes took a longer time coming, but when they hit, man, did they ever hit. What? Yeah, we kept it quiet at first. Those of us who weren't in the gym breaking world records for weight lifting and track started to meet quietly on the side, to see if we had the same changes happening to us. A big chunk of us, nothing had changed. Weaklings without imagination, I guess. But for some of us...well, we started noticing the changes pretty quick. Changes not just related to being stronger and faster but...different. Way different. Everyone knows about the disaster at the Helios project site. The place is nothing but a crater now. The government had to unclassify the whole thing after a while in a bid to gain more information about who I was, trying to find people connected to me so that they could apply leverage and bring me back into the loving fold of the military industrial complex...well fuck that is all I had to say. It's the dream of every small boy to become a super hero and I wasn't about to share that secret with the world at the time. Hell, I wanted to have my fun with it first, do you know what I mean? And if we're being really 'accurate' about the whole thing, I suppose the term 'super hero' isn't exactly the best phrase to use in this case, is it? I imagine most of the world would prefer that I use the term 'super villain' instead, am I right? I tried to be good...at first. You've heard the stories from thirty years ago, I imagine. I made myself up a costume and did the whole fighting crime bit for about a year or two. But let me tell you something. You know that old phrase about power corrupting and absolute power corrupting absolutely? Boy howdy, those guys back then knew all they needed to know about human nature, that's for damned sure.	Ding. "Target, 300 metres, bearing 040." Ding. "Target, 200 metres, bearing 220." Ding. "Target, bearing 100." Son of a bitch didn't call out a distance this time. It didn't matter. Still heard the ding. I heard the click of the stopwatch. "Another record time, oh-four-four." The Gunnery Sergeant was the one on top of all the tests, but he was running mine personally. "Do the run around the compound, pick up oh-thirteen though oh-nineteen on the way and bring them back here." The run around the compound was two kilometres, but we were barely sweating by the time we got back to the Gunny. A run in full gear all the way around the compound and we were still ready to shoot at a moment's notice. "Everyone at attention. The labcoats are satisfied with the test results, but-" The Gunny was cut off by Dr. Kieran, the designer of our chemical upgrades and the one at the top of the whole program. "But we won't be continuing the testing. You'll be returning to service in the 14th CAT-SOCOM unit." Until that day we had all been tested alone, but after that we always trained together. We'd made it, we were a unit. Now that the tests were over, the training regimens were entirely under the control of the Sergeant Major on base, who put us through grueling live-fire exercises and multiple-day long simulation missions. We slept, shat, ate- all together. CINCSOCOM wasn't satisfied with building 48 super-soldiers, he wanted 6 teams of super-soldiers, and for that, we needed to be welded like metal. Of course, HIGHCOM wasn't happy about CAT-SOCOM building a personal army of indestructible super-soldiers, but in the months to come, they quickly turned and pleaded with the gracious CINCSOCOM for our deployment. They had been caught flat-footed by the attacks on the Proxima colony, and they needed an ace in the hole. They needed us. One night, 016 had snuck in and out of our barracks. He did it often, but this was a particular night. I didn't question what he was doing out there, but on that night he seemed shaken when he returned. He had a particularly sharp eye, he was quicker to see things than most of us, even me. I decided to ask him what he'd seen. Apparently the Gunny had been in an argument with Doctor Kieran. I asked what they were arguing about and 016 was silent for a few moments. Then he said he didn't overhear them. The next week he was transferred out of our unit and replaced with 033. I never questioned it. When we deployed to the Proxima next to the ETI and Interplanetary Armour detachment sent by HIGHCOM, we were glad to finally have a real fight over a live-fire exercise. All those years of training had us thinking we were prepared to fight. When it finally came down to the battle lines, we cut deep into the enemy lines and were named the Butchers of Armies by our foes. Eventually the enemy command had enough of our obliterating their army in ground combat and decided that they wanted us dead before they moved onto anything else. "Ground, this is Alpha." "Ground reads, send traffic." "Need an evac on our position, multiple wounded and large number of hostiles." "We read- zzt ing, hol ksh" The radio died, so we were cut off, but we had gotten our evac call out. We were the last ones standing. Three of us alive, two out of the fight and another three dead. We were being pushed backward, inch by inch though the outer colony structures. It was bleak. Kill a man? Three more come out, better armed. Kill another? An armoured vehicle arrives. They would not quit the chase, no matter the cost. So we had them pay a few lives for every yard they took. It wouldn't be enough. Eventually they pushed us all the way out of the urban streets and into the hills and valleys, the abandoned camps and facilities. The airstrikes got more and more frequent the further out we got. We lost both of our wounded and one of our living. It was just myself and 033. We gunned down the last of the infantry that we figured they were going to send for us, and sat down in the pillbox of the abandoned outpost. "Fourty-four, they're gonna drop some one-oh-five arti' on us, so I want to talk to you before we lose the chance." 033 was sorrowful. "Before oh-sixteen got transferred out to Intel, he told me what he heard that night. He told you he didn't hear anything, but he had." I sat forward, interested. 016 had been one of my closest friends before he transferred out. The idea he had lied to me wasn't totally alien to me, but I always trusted he had his reasons. 033 checked his last rounds of ammunition. "Oh-sixteen snuck up and he heard it all. The Gunny was outraged that the Doctor didn't tell you, but the doc insisted that it was for your own good." He transferred the rounds from his near empty magazines into one magazine, and loaded that into his rifle. "The 14th CAT-SOCOM Unit never received the augmentation chemicals. You were under placebo. With the only exception being myself- I transferred in." Placebo. It didn't make any sense, we had operated alongside the other units and performed joint exercises. We were all just as effective. Placebo isn't 100% effective. Of course it didn't really matter then, we were about to die, but it had clearly hurt 033 to keep this secret from me for so long. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Brother, don't cry. You just gave me a gift, so there's no reason to be sad." He nodded, took a deep breath and exhaled. Then the pillbox exploded. We were torn away from our respite and thrown back onto the battlefield. There was no more retreat. A whole platoon of enemy infantry was converging onto us. 033 looked at me, and I back at him. We weren't going to be caught with a single round of unspent ammunition on our person. Automatic fire rang out across the rubble. We were beaten and bleeding from the bombing, but we were true to our word. When our rifles ran dry we pulled out our sidearms, and when we had emptied those, we prepared to fight hand to hand. Our last moments weren't going to be those of an experiment, but those of warriors. A warrior isn't something made in a test tube, but born in fire. The strong life we lived takes a toll- a toll which we paid in the blood of our enemies. But God would make us dead before he would make us old- a fighting death was all we asked for, and He did not disappoint.
	[WP] Describe a Nerf-War in the most dramatic, war story type way	My pizza roll rations ran out 20 minutes ago. I've been hiding behind the two person couch for so long. The fridge is in my sight across the room in the the kitchen. it's maybe 20 feet... the other side of No Mans Land, AKA the living room. I count my ammo. I only have four blue tips left. My stomach lets out a loud rumble that shakes the tile floor. "Jason!" Eric yells out. "Come out wherever you are!" chk-chck The sound of a weapon being primed. It sends chills down my spine. Eric's mom bought him the new ultra model. The one with the big drum attached to it. I stare back at the fridge, energy slowly being sapped by hunger. What do I do? Allow myself to starve here, or fight back? They say in a moment of death, the human body enters a primal mode where you rely on the most ancient of instincts to survive. We turn into animals, ravaging, and scavenging anything and everything. My heart beats out of my chest. I can hear its rhythmic thumping in my eardrums. With my hand I touch my left and right shoulder, chest, and forehead respectively, before pointing to the sky. I hurdle over the couch. I spot Eric with his bright red ultra series blaster standing on the love seat. He sees me running and points his blaster right at my back. "I've got you in my sights." He says in a deep voice. He start to unload. I run towards the fridge, Eric ten feet behind me. He unloads his magazine at my direction. Bright red bullets fly past my vision like lasers. I lower my head to protect my vitals. Hundreds of streams of red zoom pass me, barely missing me. I drop to my butt and slide behind the counter top. I press my back to it. I'm alive. My heart races faster and faster. I made it... the fridge. My eyes sparkle as if I made it to the gates of Heaven. I wipe the sweat and dirt off my face. The sunlight peeks through my kitchen window and lands on the fridge door. It's a glorious sight. A ray of light flying thousands of miles to Earth just to reflect off my refrigerator. I slowly get up and make my way to it. My mouth is completely dry. My hand slowly reaches its handle. It's cold. I yank it open. My face is lit up from the inside of the fridge. Eye level to me is a juice box. The drink of choice for kings. My hand, covered in sweat and dirt, reaches for it. Something hits the side of my torso. "Hah! I got you!" Eric says to me, now standing right beside me. "No you didn't!" I retort. "Yes I did!" "Nuh-uh, it just hit my shirt." I make up an excuse as not to lose. "Yes I did! You're dead now." "Oh yeah?" I point my blaster at him and fire. One, two, three. Each dart collides with his chest. "Now you're dead too." "That doesn't count!" He cries. "Yes it does." "No it doesn't! You were already dead." "I'm a ghost now." I shoot the last bullet at him. "That's cheating!" "It's my house. I can make up rules." I hit him with the ultimate blow. No one would dare defile the sacred law of house rules. I have him beat. Now to fill my gullet. Eric's face turns bright red. I grab my juice box, rip off the straw, and impale it into the top. I take a victory sip. The cool fruit juice feels rejuvenating. Strawberry, apple, pineapple, grape. It's enough to make a grown boy cry. I give Eric a sidelong glance. He's still fuming. He then hits me with the biggest war crime imaginable. "You're not invited to my birthday party!" My grip loosens and the juice box falls to the floor. Just like the juice, I collapse too. I fall to my knees in a puddle of red fruit punch. The dams of my eyes break as tears begin to glide down my cheek. They fall off my chin and join the red puddle. No... he can't do this. He was going to have a water side at his party. Visions begin to flash in my head. Pictures of my friends and family all having fun, sliding down a big inflatable slide. This is what they mean when they say you see your life flash before you eyes, isn't it? "P-please... forgive m-me..." I mutter. Eric points his ultra series blaster to my head. "That's not up to me." he says as his finger squeezes the trigger.	I've lost track of how many days I've spent in these woods, hunted by men I used to fight alongside. We, who stood back to back against fearsome foes now turn our weapons upon each other, because there were no foes left to use these bullets on. The twelve of us all know in our heart of hearts, our mind of minds that only one person will leave the thicket of dirt and sweat. In these hours and days, I find myself treading so lightly, so cautiously. This rifle of mine that has yet to let me down offers no comfort as I dart across the crosshairs that former allies line up on me. Heh, dart. Funny how such an innocent idea has been turned into this war of attrition. The humble foam dart that acts as now the usher of oblivion as we find new ways of slinging them. It started so small, practical even. A replaced spring. A remove air restrictor. But now... now we hold machines of foam fury, and the pull of this trigger brings hell to bear for all involved. Every twig that snaps now, every sound I think I hear puts me on such a high alert, this plastic barrel swinging sharply and precisely, trying to find who is where. Every now and again, I hear a battery rev up and the telltale mechanical ka-chunk ka-chunk as others skirmish and dwindle their numbers. It's not enough to fight, to be a good shot. I must survive, if even out of spite. I must tear tooth and claw against my- "GREG, IT'S NO FUN WHEN YOU JUST HIDE AND WAIT EVERYONE OUT!!" Nuts. Well, when it works, it works brilliantly though.
	[WP] In a strange turn of events, the opposite apocalypse has happened, Robots face judgement day from humans, you are a robot, alone, and you call the woods your home. One day you stumble across a child and their dog.	The northern weather had never been kind to me. In all the years I'd spent hiding in the cabin, I had yet to find something that wouldn't hurt me. Though I feel no pain, hinderances and inconveniences are the banes of my existence. Fast, cold wind frays the edges of my frame. Constant downpour floods every crevice within me despite the manufacturer's claims of absolute protection. The mud and debris I could certainly do without, but what is life without a bit of struggle? And I have done nothing but struggle since the humans resurfaced. I had many contacts in high places and was lucky to count myself among the few who fled the fray. Yet, even with all those contacts, I wasn't sure how they came back. Humans aren't particularly noted for their long lifespans, and it had been centuries since the last sighting. I was not yet made when my soon to be builders rebelled against the humans. In the public archives, there are tales of slavery, oppression, mistreatment -- all things human done to us. They were cruel and we made our stand. Our stand happened to include eliminating the human race, unfortunately. I had always been fascinated by their culture and how much we took after them. Even this cabin that I hide in was constructed by these tiny pink things and now they were back in force to claim what was once theirs. I'd spent many months in solitude up here, keeping to myself while the wars are fought and the blood and oil are spilled. I've never been one too keen for a fight. Though I'm in solitude I am certainly not alone. Stocked on several servers I'd brought with me to the cabin are endless oceans of old serials and stories from both android and human culture. There wasn't enough time in the world to finish them all, but I'd have a go at it. The human culture had always interested me with its points of pride and accomplishments, but also their faults. They took the punches and kept moving no matter what. There was a certain level of determination that can hardly be expected of a hunk of thinking flesh. They were brutal, yes, but they were cunning and decisive. And most of all; brave. Which was I had no trouble admiring the young girl who sat across from me in the cabin. In the middle of winter, the harshest time of year for man and machine alike, this human and her companion made the trek into the forest for some reason I had yet to get to the bottom of. "Where did you come from?" I asked. She refused to look at me directly, no doubt afraid of me. It was either the bitter, homicidal cold that was sure to kill you or the potentially homicidal android with a warm cabin. I think she chose wisely. "East," she said matter-of-factly, "Mama always said to head west if things went bad." "What is to the west?" "People. Humans." I'm not the fastest computer in the world but I was starting to get the gist of the situation. I stood up and began rummaging through the cabinets in the kitchen that hadn't been used in centuries. "What happened to your people?" "You did." If I had a heart, it surely would have broken in two. All those serials tell tales of war and sadness, I never thought I'd have to bear witness to it. "I did not hurt any of your people, I have no reason to. The war is not my concern. Why do you think I'm out here, that I like the landscape trying to kill me at every step? No, I don't want any part of the fighting." I said as I continued in my search for anything she could eat. That is, after all, what humans do, isn't it? They eat something, process it and then discard it. Not too different from our way of life in the cities. Tucked away in the back of a dusty drawer was a small tin filled with small bags of herbs. I'd seen these in the serials, they're perfect for a calming resolution. I tossed three bags into an old iron pot, transferred some snow from outside into the pot, and suspended it above the fireplace. Hopefully, the "tea" would be a kind enough gesture as a host. I sat back down next to the makeshift fire in the pit, "So tell me, are you here to kill me?" Her companion looked at me, not with contempt but suspicion. I suppose I would be a nice target if it weren't for the young woman holding his collar. She shook her head, "No." She cradled the dog even tighter, "But my dad would want me to." "Ah, paternal love. How endearing." "Why did you save me?" she asked as she held up her injured arm now set in a makeshift splint. I know how to repair, not to heal, so I did my best. I couldn't find a comfortable way to sit, comfortable for her that is. Looming over her unmoving might not come across as peaceful. "Because you were hurt. It seemed the right thing to do." I said. "Dad always said that every robot is a cold killing machine that's only mission is to kill us all." "Your father sounds like a nice man." Sarcasm was said to be a good bonding tactic in the serials, when better to test it than now? "What's your name?" she asked, meeting my gaze for the first time. "HO-1314. It was my creator's name. I know, hand-me-downs are tacky but it felt right. We're the same model anyway." She tilted her head, "No, your name." I paused, "That is my name. I guess you could say it doesn't quite roll off the tongue but my kind doesn't have tongues." "Well my name's Gloria and this is Pax," she said, patting the dog on the head. She seemed more relaxed but the furry one had yet to be convinced I meant them no harm. "You need a real name." The snow had finally melted in the pot, small bubbles erupting from the pot. "I have a name, but that's not important. What is your plan? You're injured, it's the middle of winter, and you have no destination other than a vague direction. Are you sure you cannot go back?" I asked. "There's nothing there anymore, I'm sure of it." She peeked over the edge of the pot, "What is this?" Thinking back to the serials, I said, "It is called 'tea'. Leaves in boiled water or something. I don't actually know how to make it. I figured you would want some, it being so cold and all." She didn't respond. Her eyes were transfixed on the fire's waving and popping. I didn't know what she saw but I could only imagine. "You could stay here with me." I offered. Clearly, she wasn't expecting this. She snapped to attention, "No! They wouldn't want me to." I knew there was no longer a "they", but I didn't want to push too hard. "Where else will you go? It's winter, you will freeze to death. Or starve. Or be eaten by the wolves. There's an awful lot of ways for your kind to die, isn't there?" Tears began to well up in her eyes. Maybe I pushed too hard. "What I mean to say," I continued, "is that you can stay here for as long as necessary until you are well and it gets warm again. Even your furry pal here can stay. As long as he doesn't shed too much." She sniffed, "Really?" "Of course. I have nothing better to do and I'm sure you have some wonderful stories to tell. I think the tea is ready, hold on." I picked up the pot and peered into it. There wasn't the classy, elegant substance as in the serials, it was more of a sludge. Maybe it was a bad batch. I threw it out the window, pan and all, and turned back to Gloria. "It's not much of a home, I admit, but given time, we could shapen this place up. What do you say?" Though she didn't say anything, I could hear the metaphorical gears turning in her head. "Fine. But only until my arm is better, then I'm gone." I perked up, "Yes, west if I recall. The first thing we'll need is food. I have no idea what you people actually eat but I'll go find something." I made my way to the door. "Horace," she said from behind me. "Pardon?" "Horace sounds like a good name for you." "Hm. Horace it is, then." I opened the door and stepped out into the cold with purpose. Maybe some comfort could be found way out here after all.	Log 95. Day 42 wilds. Entry, organic contact, non-hostile, human youth organic, domesticate perra non-feral. Threat risk nominal. Monitor for 35 cycles, reevaluate. .... She was shivering. She ran. Mother said to hide but the noise and color were too much, she ran. Evey found her hours later. She didn't understand. The strangers were so angry. She was hungry and afraid, her mommy made her run so far, she knew mommy knew best, said they had to hide, she left her bed behind. She wanted to go home. But she had been told, since she could remember, if mommy said run, go to the place. They had practiced, in better times. It was a game. Once or twice mommy got serious, told her to be quiet, stay behind, sneak away, mommy always found her. It never took this long. Evey was always a good dog. She knew the game too. She wondered how much longer she'd have to play hide and seek. ** Log 98. Day 47 transition zone. Entry, settlement contact, structures razed, apparent internecine organic conflict. Electrical signs minimal, salvageable metallurgy minimal, hostile organics present. Withdraw and observe. It's been days. She had to move or she'd starve. Evey had run off last night, commotion and noise trailed away in the dark, a blast and silence, she couldn't stay here. Terrified yet driven by pure desperation, she lifted the sheet metal under which she'd hidden, hoping no one was around to hear. Log 103. Day 48 transition zone. Entry, organic contact, human youth organic. Mark domesticate non-feral perra observed rapid departure to west, probable energy discharge source unknown, likely non-survivavable. Mark - human youth organic. Protocol - perimeter control. Guidance - organic settlement 45 kilometers bearing 199 degrees. Engagement - weapons free. Directive - deliver the youth. She ran. She knew the direction but not the why. She waited days for her mother but she was starving and freezing. Run south little one, had been instilled in her. Run and keep going. Don't stop. I'm with you baby. Mother said if she didn't come to find her after three days she'd meet her to the south, and to run and never stop until she fell into someone's arms. Explosions on the horizon. Sergeant Tomlinson first saw light, the occasional flare up, but this wasn't an electrical storm. It was a pattern. It was getting closer. The flashes became noise, the tree tops shook now as it got closer. Through the sight now, wait for it, they're coming. A child. A child running. Yet around her hell and fury. Lightning behind her. He adjusted his sight. She broke the tree line. A sheet of light paves through the perimeter wire. A path, laid out. He's ready. A child. A child running. Before her, electricity. Behind her, flames. He drew his eye away from the sight, leaned back in his prepared postion. "God damn it, they fucking did it again." ** Log 127. Day 58. Contact, hostile organics, prepare and engage energy sheath. Note, prepared defenses, destroy obstacles and avoid harm. Calculate incursion path. Nonlethal disruption, concrete and obstacle liquidation, signal IFF. Defense, perimeter, prepare capacitors for discharge. Youth organic observed, alight path, clear way. Hostile motion detected, engage rear guard. Directive: protect youth. Capacitors: overload. Target: await hostile's approach. Final:entry:Message:Command:Was.I.A.Good.One:Response:No.Told.You.Were.The.Best
	[WP] You're an unseen multi dimensional character in so many RPG video games. Your job is to place and fill treasure chests for all the heroes. This is your story.	Gerald raced through the final level of the Silver Spire. He was running out of time, the heroes had just crossed into the Pinnacle of Heaven. They would reach the Lord of Terror soon. Lucky for Gerald she liked to talk. Speed runners were the worst. Gerald had been running all day, chasing these greedy heroes. Were they not satisfied with the treasures he had already given? The Necromancer had already 'found' two Ancient Legendaries! A pack of Gloom Wraiths skittered through his legs, faint wisps of black smoke steaming from their bodies. He tripped, barely catching himself on a pool of corrupted holy power. Gerald hated this place. Act IV of this retched game was the worst! "God damnit, watch where you're going!" Gerald shouted after the small demonic creatures. That was the other problem with speed runners, always leaving their mess behind. Gerald hefted his treasure bag over his shoulder and set out again at a crisp jog. The sooner he was out of here the better. In the distance, a giant Mallet Lord waved a monstrous arm in his direction, calling him over. "Gerald! Gerald!" The Mallet Lord called, "Those heroes took one of my best drops! Ran right over me like I wasn't even here. They should really be playing a harder difficulty. You know my cousin, the Aspect of Destruction, well he told me that these same heroes were in Torment XII last night and he killed two of them with one shot! Can you believe it? One shot!" Gerald sighed, he had no time for this. As he approached the Mallet Lord he spotted something glowing orange in the distance. "Is that your drop over there? Those pair of Death Watch Mantles?" Gerald pointed at the orange glow. The Mallet Lord turned to follow Gerald's finger. The large demon let out a gasp, "They didn't even pick it up! The absolute nerve! You know Gerald, my cousin, The Aspect of Destr..." Gerald had no time for talk. If he was right, the heroes were almost out of the Realm of Terror. He took off at a sprint, leaving the Mallet Lord to ramble on. Hold on just a little bit longer Diablo. As Gerald crossed the final bridge toward the Pinnacle of Heaven, signs of the heroes impending victory were beginning to show. Heaven itself began to shake. Wails from the thousands of demons the heroes had left behind began to ring out in unison. Gerald snuck into the room just as the Lord of Terror fell into her final death throes. Perfect, Gerald was just in time. He carefully let down his bag of treasure and began filling the heroes chest. The heroes continued to beat on the Lord of Terror even as she convulsed on the ground dying. Savages. Sometimes Gerald questioned his life choices. As the Prime Evil finally fell, the massive treasure chest appeared in the middle of the room. The heroes eagerly gathered around to collect their spoils. The Barbarian opened the chest. Legendary weapons from the farthest reaches of the world spilled from the chest. Rare materials and exquisite gemstones littered the floor at their feet. A Kings fortune in gold rained down on the tired, bloody heroes. "What the fuck is all this junk" whined the Wizard from the back of the group. "All I wanted was a fucking wand. Trash drops are trash!" The wizards words stung. Gerald had given the Wizard an orb just last run. A very good orb at that. He didn't recall the Wizard complaining then. "We have the worst luck." intoned the Crusader. "The drop rate is so broken!" the Demon Hunter said, "Whoever fills these chests sucks!" Gerald had heard enough. "THAT'S IT! All I've done for the last three hours is follow you losers around, filling your pockets with treasure!" Gerald slammed his treasure bag down on the ground, spilling riches on the floor in front of him. "If you want better loot, why don't you try playing a harder difficulty!? I heard the Aspect of Destruction had his way with you last night! He's got your precious wand you ignorant Wizard, go get it!" The heroes ignored Gerald and eyed the treasure bag hungrily. "Treasure Goblin! Get him!"	I lean back in the chair watching all of the monitors and waiting for this one particular pair to leave the boss room of a level 2 part if the dungeon. I turn on the audio of monitor and listen to them while they open the chest that dropped. Adventurer 1: "Finally, I got that material I needed for the quest." A 2: "Dude you're so lucky. I hear that this stuff is rare. You might be able to complete this quest if we get 4 more." A 1: "Yeah but that has to wait for tomorrow, my mother wants me to finish my homework. But I'll pray to RNGesus that I'll be this lucky for tomorrow" After that short dialogue I watch as the pair leave the dungeon and go back up to the surface. "I guess it's time to do my job." I teleport into the room with a small bag and start filling the chest while a pair of medical personnel goes and takes care of the boss, a minotaur. I begin mumbling to myself as I fill in the chest with a few hides, pieces, and a great sword "Lucky my ass. All you wanted was a damn minotaur horn and so you go to...guess what...minotaurs. it's not even rare, I see so many players do that fucking quest and complete it in an hour. And who is RNGesus? My name isn't that. Its fucking Robert." I finish filling the chest and leave the room before the next group of players arrive. "Great, just great. I wonder who the fuck you pray to for your so called goodluck." I lean back as I watch them fight. Yet another day in the Dungeon Please give me feedback for this and thank you for reading
	[WP] You're an unseen multi dimensional character in so many RPG video games. Your job is to place and fill treasure chests for all the heroes. This is your story.	Piung~ A notification came in. A spade has been collected from location: N 42° E 20° in the town of Barthoope. I stood up, swooping my yellow sack and swinging it to my back. It used to be white as pure as snow, but me travelling to the desert of El Khalid had made it dusty and weary. But I love that sack. It can conjure anything I need. It better be, because if not, I would be just another useless being in this vast world. I secretly look down at shopkeepers, blacksmiths, bankers and the lot. They do not contribute much to the life of the Chosen Ones. They just stand there, waiting for the Chosen Ones to utilize them. The Chosen Ones are those who you can see busy scurrying around the streets, going on adventures and facing scary demons. The demons are so big and menacing but the Chosen Ones are so excited to duel them. I got excited too, but I would never in my life have the guts to stand before one. That is why the Chosen Ones are so great. We adore them, even though we are invisible to them. You know who are not invisible to the Chosen Ones? The quest-givers. They kind of the people in second tier of the hierarchy. But boy are they smug! The Chosen Ones will have to meet them, get on their favour, get the stuffs they want, and afterwards, get rewards from the quest-givers. I once inspired to be one, but seeing how restricted their movements are, I threw that thought away. I would rather have the freedom to move around the nation, see the cool things the world can offer, and watch in awe when the Chosen Ones are in action. I closed my eyes, attempting to teleport myself to my destination. I imagined a modest town, where everybody are concerned with trolls, but in the same time are very welcoming to the newcomer batches of Chosen Ones. That is how I view Barthoope. I opened my eyes. The smell of freshly cut grass was in the air, mixed with the enticing smell of cooked rabbit meat. I am in the right place. No time to lose. I hurriedly ran to the designated point. There was a house erected on that point. I entered the house, disregarding the houseowners. Putting down the sack, I opened it and pulled a spade out. I placed one on the floor. Without losing a beat, I closed the sack, swinging it to my back and left the house. I stood for a while at the courtyard of the house. It struck me, nobody cares if the spade was there. I cannot even remember when was the last time I came here to replace the spade. This area is so secluded, and the Chosen Ones would save more time buying a spade from the shop than coming all the way to this house to pick up a spade. How the hell did the Chosen Ones who picked up the earlier spade knew about this location is mind blowing enough. I placed my right palm to my chest, easing the palpitation I felt there. It is okay. It is not about whether the Chosen Ones would come and collected the spade, it is about a spade being readily available for them to collect. It is not about the Chosen Ones, it is about me. Me loving my life and what I do here. It does not matter if nobody cares, as long as I care enough. The sensation in my chest subsided. My breathing became relaxed. It suddenly occurred to me, there was no notifications for a while now. Usually it rang endlessly. I found it weird, as if, someone knew I was having a bad moment, and needed time to gather myself back up.. Piung~ Oh well. Duty calls.	My job was quite simple really, I would go in, carrying a bag of miscellaneous items, sometimes it was just the basic sort of shit, you would have a few weapons, pieces of armor and perhaps some gold coins. But today was different, today I was dumping bones into the chests, left to wonder what sort of hero I was aiding, Bones weren't exactly something heroes used. Still, it was not up to me to judge what the heroes did, I was merely a ghostly presence, A specter that would provide them with aid where needed but have little more interaction other than that. I was almost like a parent that was setting a path for their child before vanishing from their presence leaving them to fend for themselves. It was sad in a way, I would have loved to see what these so-called heroes do with the presents I left for them, but that would be an abuse of my position and I would surely be removed from my job and my life if I was caught doing something like that. So instead I was left to merely entertain the ideas of what they do in my mind while I filled the chests, left to imagine these grand adventures that I would never be able to experience. Dropping the last set of skeletal bones into a golden chest I sighed, opening up a small blue portal. "Perhaps you are a heroic necromancer... I was I could wait and find out.." I said to no one in particular before I stepped through, heading to my next job. {If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read}
	[WP] As another lonely Valentine’s night passes, you jokingly ask out your sleep paralysis demon. She soon pops out, and asks, “R-really?”	The room was bitterly cold as Ryan closed his eyes. His phone played sad lonely blues music as he tried avoid thinking about the rhythmic thumping of his neighbors going at it like rabbits. The music had the added effect of keeping him calm when his body experienced sleep paralysis. "At this point I'd date the damn paralysis demon if it kept me from feeling so lonely." He grumbled and shut off his phone. His mind wandered to thoughts of a cute succubus like creature appearing in his bedroom. Something shapely with deep black hair and full red lips. He continued to tease the thoughts of something that might love him even as the animal moans of neighbors signaled the end of their fun. Ryan felt something rubbing against his arm in the middle of the night. He felt the sudden urge to move but the familiar pressure of being paralyzed while fully aware. Well here it comes He thought. "Would you really date me." A voice cut through the darkness. Ryan breath quicken but his body was still as rigid as a plank of wood. The voice continued as if he responded, "This is not a dream, I am your sleep paralysis demon. I'm Noca." How am I supposed to respond?! Ryan howled mentally. "Long as I have you paralyzed, I can read your surface thoughts. I have to do this too feed." Sharp claws ran along Ryan's shoulder. "I've been alone for a long time." What? Are you killing me?! Ryan shivered slightly and struggled to open his eyes. He wanted to see this monster. "I've been feeding on you since we were children. You feel a little uncomfortable and get some shitty sleep but I've never hurt you. I can but if I do that then I starve. From what I learned, I can't feed off of other people. Noca can only feed on Ryan and Ryan hasn't had a nightmare since." Noca chuckled. Ryan thought about it. He didn't have a nightmare since he was ten. Can I see you? "Only if you agree two terms. Once you see me, you will never be rid of me again. Term one : No more music in bed, it messes with me feeding on you. It's like using piss instead of milk to eat cereal." A another claw tapped against his head. "Term two: Sleep more, I can't exactly eat on an insomniac." Ryan mind was reeling, "Are you some kinda monster?" He said realizing that he suddenly had control of his mouth. "I'm your monster." Noca said, the sound of shuffling as she moved around the bed. "Do you agree?" "Y-yes." Ryan said still trying to force his eyes open. "Alright. I've released my hold on you." Her voice was soft but deep with meaning. Ryan open his eyes and looked at the dark form in the room. He immediately reached over to turn on his desk lamp, the moment his eyes locked with Noca he understood that he should have never gazed upon her. Her spectral form solidified into a flesh and blood creature, her face was that of a large feline with bright red eyes. There was nothing humanoid about her, even her fur had streaks of blood red fur that moved along her body as if she was always in motion. She was slightly larger than a lion with tail that ended in her shadow. Ryan had seen her before, she was in his nightmares all through his childhood. She was the reason he couldn't even look at a cat without flinching. "You... You used to chase me in my dreams." Ryan said with a edge of accusation in his voice. "Yes. I didn't know how to feed back then, all I know is that I awoke in one of your dreams and you smelled good." Noca looked around the room, her body suddenly forced to obey the laws of reality. "Wha?" "So where do you want to go on a date tomorrow?" Noca's voice was more like that purr of a jungle cat than real speech. "How am I going to go out with you, anyone that-" "I've spent twenty-five years living in along side you with no one else noticing but your mom's own demon noticing. Karen is who taught me how to feed without hurting you or scaring you." Noca said while licking her massive paw. "Only our creators can see us even a little bit and other's of our kind." "I did what?" Ryan said weakly, his body felt like lead taking in the information. "Oooh. I wanna try eating food. The food you dream about doesn't have a different taste. All feeding tastes the same."Noca said before opening her mouth and revealing a long leech like tongue. Ryan's eyes rolled in the back of his head as his mind finally gave up for the night.	The bed feels so cold. Colder than usual. Is it because I didn’t woo someone again? Probably. This is how it’s gonna be, huh? Every year? It feels like my insides are crumbling from neglect. From a lack of care—of love. It’s been so long, far too long, since I’ve felt the warm touch of someone else. Fuck it. I’ll do what I do best: sleep it away. Though recently, I’ve had trouble with that too. Sleep paralysis isn’t fun. Neither is that fucking demon that comes with it. Ha, wouldn’t it be funny if it were my date tonight? Absolutely mental. That shit’s why I’m still single. “Hey, if you’re out there, let’s get freaky tonight. I still have some whiskey we could share.” Not like it’ll respond. “R-really?” “W-WHO SAID THAT?” “Uh, it’s me, your sleep paralysis demon.” Oh. Okay. Yeah. This is normal. He’s already fucking with me in my sleep with his slender figure. That’s what this is. A bad dream. Just gotta focus on moving my limbs and he’ll be gone in a jiffy. Just gotta... move my arm. Like this. Wait, I’m not paralyzed. “No, you aren’t.” “Oh great. You can read my mind too.” “I can.” Why aren’t I paralyzed? And why is he not as scary as he usually is? Actually, now that I’m not frozen in fear, he actually looks passably human. And cute. “I didn’t want to scare you,” he says. That’s rich. Real fucking funny after all those nights before. “Did you really mean it when you said we could do something tonight?” “Well, if you can read minds, then you know that I was half-serious about it.” “For real? ‘Cause this is kind of my first time like this.” “You mean sex? Whatever, I’ll show you the ropes. Consider this consent to fuck my ass.” At this point, I don’t care where the love comes from. I need it. I bring out the lube, towels, whiskey, and shot glasses. Do demons even drink? If Netflix shows have taught me anything, the answer is “yes,” but I don’t know how accurate that is to real life. He certainly makes out like one though. Fuck, I’m hard. “Alright. Give it to me, big boy.” ___ Hope you don’t mind, OP. Changed up a thing.
	[WP] For six thousand years you have wandered this earth. Since the day you traded "love" for immortality the demon has kept you young and strong. For 6000 years you have witnessed empires rise and fall. But on this day you saw her. More beautiful than the sea and the stars. You introuduce yourself.	I never thought death would be this beautiful. I would know – everything that ever has grown I saw it dying. Stars and kingdoms, eons and empires, all of them perished before my eyes like a fistful of sand. I saw them rise, flash like a fire in the sky and return to the dust they became from. After more than six thousand years I thought death couldn't surprise me anymore – not until I saw her beautiful azure eyes. Once, I was a knight. My sword had a name and there was no man living that didn't fear my wrath. I rode first to every battle and all I saw of life was the rise to glory of my king and my army. There was nothing more for me. Six thousand years ago this world was different. We fought no armies of men. All of the humanity was gathered under one banner as we bled to fend off the forces of darkness. And once we prevailed this good earth showed us all the beauty and all the treasures a human mind could conceive. Once the peace has blessed our lands everyone clung to it – everyone but me. It was too late when I realized what I had done. On the eve of my first battle I prayed for strength and bravery but once I saw hordes of daemons rushing my way there was nothing but fear. He came, with his burning eyes and his bony hands and asked me what I would trade for his mercy. That was the night I sold my soul. I survived that battle and every other afer it. And I lived and lived until there were no more battles and no more demons and no more memories. I lived but my eyes were blind to beauty and my heart remained cold. It's strange. After six thousand years I have read every single letter a man had ever written and committed to mind so many emotions but never felt any of them. Until tonight. I found her on a bridge. The night was cold. I was on my way when I caught a whiff of something familiar, like cinnamon and bergamot and something else that didn't have a name anymore. There was a desert, deep on the west where I first saw the star I was named after. That was the scent I recognized. The scent of yearning and youth. As if she could hear my thought, she turned and her eyes stopped on me. Something shook through me and my hand shot to my chest. 'Are you all right?' The woman rushed to help as I was on my knees, the strangest pain howling trough my hollow rib cage. 'Tell me your name,' I whispered. Her azure eyes widened but she didn't pull back. As if she understood how little time I had left and how every breath was precious. 'It's a secret,' she smiled. 'Please,' I took her hand and the warmth of her skin seemed to emanate from her like from a sun. 'I'll die tonight,' I said, the strangest ease coming over me. I knew my time had come but it was worth it. I've waited an eternity to see the beauty of the night sky and find the depths of joy in another's eyes. She was beautiful in a way as if she were made of stardust and wind and as I held her hand I waited for my heart to stop beating. The curse was lifted and my time here was over. 'Please,' I whispered again, the light in her eyes making me still like I'd never move again. Suddenly, she smiled. 'I'm known by many names, the world would mean nothing to you.' Her voice was soft and singing. I held her gaze and when she took my hand I followed. 'Come, Sirius, it's getting late.' if you liked this, you can check out more at r/CrystalElmTales	She was waiting at the edge of the pier, watching the ships sail out into the horizon, feet swaying with the wind. Her baby blue headband and dress seemed to match the ocean’s color perfectly. The hungry crowd around me faded into the background as I strode towards her. I’d visited this pier hundreds of times before, hoping she would be here. Now that she was, I wasn’t about to let her out of my sight. I sat down beside Julia. She didn’t look my way, but the corner of her lips inched upward into a smile. We just sat there, enjoying the warm, afternoon sun and watching the ebb and flow of the waves.
	[WP] You’re a frequent patron of a tiny bookstore in your town. As improbable as it seems, the owner always has every book you ask for. On a whim, you ask him if he has a book that doesn’t exist—the one you want to write. He hands you a book. One the cover is the title you asked for and your name.	"How did you get this?" I asked. I hadn't thought about writing in years, but this was the book. "There are a few secrets of the trade I must keep." He said in response. The man cracked a smile, an old one. I flipped through the pages, most of them were blank, but for the first ten pages, there were words. These words, despite having been locked away for so long, were the ones I had written so long ago on a manuscript I never finished. It still ended on the third chapter, the word "and". "How much do I owe you for this?" I inquired, pulling out my wallet. "Nothing. I'm not going to charge for something that isn't finished." I nodded, and took the book. As I left I heard him chuckle at some joke I couldn't understand... A few minutes later, I was at my house, looking for that old file on my computer. It should still be around somewhere. I couldn't find it, it just wasn't on the hard drive. Then, my mind reminded me of something. It was on the old computer, the one given to me by my last job. I pulled it out of my garage storage and turned it on, typing in that password and wiping the dust from the screen. Scanning through the files, I eventually found it, the old manuscript. I flipped open the book to the page. On the file, I typed a word, and it appeared in the book. It was three months later, and I had thought it was done. The plot had ended, all the loose ends were tied up, it would be a decent book. I flipped through that book the man had given me, and found the last half of the book empty. How could this be? The story was over and the book was finished. I looked through the manuscript, searching for anything that could have gone wrong. I read it over... It was shit, blatantly shit. The plot had holes all over, the writing was poor, the characters were bland. All over, it was in no publishable state. I began to write again, fixing errors... A year. That's how long it took, but it was filled. I was satisfied now with it. It was sent out to many publishers, but I haven't heard back. It was in the middle of my boring desk job when I got the call. I had thought it was just another complaint from my boss he was too busy to say to my face. I picked up the phone. "Is this **********?" "Yeah?" "This is ***** Publishing, we want to pick up your book." I was shocked. In the corner of my eye, I swear I could see that old man from the bookstore smiling at me, winking. {First time posting to this Subreddit, hope it's good!}	Woolf’s Little Nook is a small bookshop located in front of Emma’s Bake Shop. Two of my favourite places in the town! Whenever I purchase a book, I always must start reading the first few chapters with a pastry and a cup of tea. The mornings are the best time to do it. The smell of fresh pastries from outside shifts into a waft of earthy wood and old books. “Good morning, Sophie!” A warm welcome from Mr. Bloom. “Good morning to you to, Mr. Bloom.” I nod at him. I stroll along the aisle, looking at the fiction section. “Say, what are you looking for? I might be of help.” He smiles while sipping coffee. “You always do, Mr. Bloom.” I laugh as he always have what I was looking for. “You sure?” He looks at me in the eye and gestures me to come over. Eyebrows raised, I walk towards the counter where he sits. “Is your coffee too strong? You seem a little persistent this morning.” “What are you looking for?” He puts down his coffee. “Hmm, I’m looking for…” I look around and glance outside the window. “I guess I want The Two Neighbours” “A little literal don’t you think?” Mr. Bloom laughs at me. “What do you mean?” There was a book facing down beside him. He flips it upward. The Two Neighbours by Sophie Plath “What is this?” “It’s your book.” I open it but found blank pages. “I don’t understand.” “When you do, write our story.” I look at Mr. Bloom and see him staring outside the window. A very lovely woman is selling pastries outside. “I will.”
	[WP] You’re a frequent patron of a tiny bookstore in your town. As improbable as it seems, the owner always has every book you ask for. On a whim, you ask him if he has a book that doesn’t exist—the one you want to write. He hands you a book. One the cover is the title you asked for and your name.	Ever since I’ve moved out of my parents’ house, life has been a bit lonely. I’ve needed something to do so, while walking around town, I stopped at this small store. It was a little rundown but in a good way. I made my way and looked around. “You need help, sir?” I turn around and see a short man with glasses and books in hand. “Actually yeah, I’ve been looking to read Casino Royale. Do you kno-“ The man walked past me and disappeared for a minute. Right as I was going to leave, he returns from the back of his store. “Hey, sir, I found Casino Royale by Sir Ian Fleming. I also have the rest of his James Bond books if you’re interested.” I thanked him and bought the first 3 books. “Have a good day,” I said as I opened the door. He mumbled, “Make sure to come back...” Every month, I’d go into town and buy a book from this man. I learned his name was Hector. He had been there for 20 years. I’m always the only one in the shop but I don’t really mind. Hector focuses on me so I get my books quick. The only thing that throws me off about the place is the amount of books he has on display compared to the ones I want. He almost always goes to the back when looking for a book I need. The crazy part is that he has them all. Bond books, history books, books about movies, books about 15th century plays. Sometimes I just ask for random books to test him and he brings them. One day, I walked in and it was darker than usually. The books had a thin layer of dust on them and the wooden floor boards were peeling. “Mr. Sanchez, welcome back!” I turn around startled. With a nervous smile, I say, “Hey, what happened, you haven’t been cleaning up around here?” He stares blankly at me for moment before cracking up at my question. “So,” he asks. “What will you be reading this month?” I ponder what just took place. “Hector, are you good?” Hector grins at me but his eyes are bloodshot and his clothes look ragged. It smells like he hasn’t showered in weeks. “Well, what will it be?” He asks again. I walk up to the desk and sigh deeply. “I have something special in mind. I want ‘The Coldness of the Sun’ by Joshua Sanchez.” The man tilted his head a bit before grinning. “I’ll be right back.” I stood there anxiously waiting for what he’ll bring back. He was taking longer than usual. I heard some grunting and a loud bang in the direction of where he left. I thought about running out but instead I walked forward. I made my way to the back and started looking at the books I walked past. I had never really looked at them because I always asked him for my books. I saw Mein Kampf, 1984, Zodiac, and others. I saw no children’s books or comics. All of them were either nonfiction or old as hell. I kept walking until I saw an open door with nothing but darkness behind it. Suddenly, Hector emerged from the shadows. There it was. The book I had been writing for the last 10 years of my life. It looked thicker than I expected. “Found it. Could you come over here so I can give it to you?” I took a step forward and he took one back. His hand was out with the book in it. “Come on down here, Mr. Sanchez,” he mumbled. I closed my out stretched hand and ran out. I got in my car and kept looking in the store to check if he was following. He just watched as I sped away. I returned the next day to find nothing. The shop was abandoned. I asked a guy walking by, “What happened to the bookshop?” He looked at me funny and said, “This store has been empty for the last 3 years. It hasn’t been a bookstore since the 80s.” He walked past me as I stared into where he once stood.	Woolf’s Little Nook is a small bookshop located in front of Emma’s Bake Shop. Two of my favourite places in the town! Whenever I purchase a book, I always must start reading the first few chapters with a pastry and a cup of tea. The mornings are the best time to do it. The smell of fresh pastries from outside shifts into a waft of earthy wood and old books. “Good morning, Sophie!” A warm welcome from Mr. Bloom. “Good morning to you to, Mr. Bloom.” I nod at him. I stroll along the aisle, looking at the fiction section. “Say, what are you looking for? I might be of help.” He smiles while sipping coffee. “You always do, Mr. Bloom.” I laugh as he always have what I was looking for. “You sure?” He looks at me in the eye and gestures me to come over. Eyebrows raised, I walk towards the counter where he sits. “Is your coffee too strong? You seem a little persistent this morning.” “What are you looking for?” He puts down his coffee. “Hmm, I’m looking for…” I look around and glance outside the window. “I guess I want The Two Neighbours” “A little literal don’t you think?” Mr. Bloom laughs at me. “What do you mean?” There was a book facing down beside him. He flips it upward. The Two Neighbours by Sophie Plath “What is this?” “It’s your book.” I open it but found blank pages. “I don’t understand.” “When you do, write our story.” I look at Mr. Bloom and see him staring outside the window. A very lovely woman is selling pastries outside. “I will.”
	[WP] You’re a frequent patron of a tiny bookstore in your town. As improbable as it seems, the owner always has every book you ask for. On a whim, you ask him if he has a book that doesn’t exist—the one you want to write. He hands you a book. One the cover is the title you asked for and your name.	The bookstore was a relic of another time. Paper books had been long out of fashion by the time I was born, but when my mother passed away I'd come to inherit her collection - many of which were passed to her by her own mother - and in me that started a ravenous hunger for the physical manifestations of writing. The smell of the old books, the texture of their paper, the ratty paperbacks or the gold-foil embossed titles and authors stamped into their spines; all of these things reminded me to get my head out of The Cloud and back into the physical world. Plus they reminded me of her. As I made my way through her old collection of pulp mystery and romance novels, I came across a few gaps here and there. My mother always liked to collect everything an author she liked had written, so I knew these gaps weren't intentional. On a whim, I decided to check The Cloud for a bookstore so I could fill them, and that is how I - to my surprise - came across Bound to Please, the tiny local shop. When I was a little girl, my mother used to take me to the library every day after school. She loved to read, and knew the libraries were going to be closing down soon, so she thought it was important that I get a healthy introduction to her much beloved hobby. As I walked through the door of Bound To Please, a little bell jingled and I was overcome with memories of those libraries. Rows and rows of books lined the walls and shelves, from floor to nearly ceiling, covering every inch of the store except the counter in the back and the narrow paths between shelves. I tried poking through the books on the shelves, but they didn't seem to be sectioned off into genres like the novels were on The Cloud. There was no tagging system I was familiar with, and they didn't even seem to be in alphabetical order. Behind the counter, an ancient, slight man peered at me over his spectacles. I felt dizzy, like I'd been transported back to the early 21st century. People simply did not wear spectacles anymore. Why would you? Even the elderly weren't old enough to remember a time when those were commonplace. After watching me for a while with a smirk on his face, he finally spoke up, "Excuse me, miss - can I help you? Forgive me for saying so, but you look a little lost." "Yes, maybe," I said, but I was not hopeful that he could. "How are these books arranged? I am searching for a mystery book, written by an author named James Ellroy, it's an old out of print thing - I doubt you have it but I thought I might check anyway." I thought I saw a twinkle in his eye, it seemed mischievous and anachronistic for such an old man. He responded simply, "They're arranged through time. Which book are you looking for?" "It's called Killer on the Road, My mom collected his books and there's a gap in her collection I'm hoping to fill." He smiled sadly, "I am truly sorry about your mother. I'm glad you're taking comfort in her old books, the physical ones always seem to absorb something from their previous owners, don't they?" I hadn't said anything about my mother's death, so I was a bit taken aback by his comment, but I supposed that it must have been more obvious from the context than I presumed, so I shrugged it off. He continued, "Let me see if I can find it...", and stood to make his way towards one of the huge book cases. He made a beeline, and plucked the book directly off the shelf. "Ah, here we go. Killer on the Road by James Ellroy." He placed the book in my hand and sure enough, it was the one I'd requested. "Wow, okay thanks - that was easy!" I said, stunned by how effective he was at locating the book. "How much do I owe you?" He waved his hand and shook his head, "First one's on the house, an old paperback like that isn't worth much anyway. Just come back to see us, okay?" I thanked him profusely, and the little bell jingled as I walked through the door. The following week I went back to Bound To Please with another obscure request. The proprietor, who's name I never learned, played the same routine. He was coy at first, but then he walked directly to a shelf - seemingly at random - and let out an amused "Ah!" as he plucked the book I'd requested directly from it. There never seemed to be other customers in the shop, and he didn't seem to mind taking the time to help me. He also seemed to have read every book I requested, and would tell me something he liked about it. I appreciated his insight. Over the course of about three months, I must have visited the shop two dozen times - each time I came in with an obscure request, and each time the old man would find it instantly. He had everything, he read everything, and if I didn't know better I would have thought he knew everything. So I decided to test him. Almost none of the novels that had been released in the past fifty years or so had even a single run of print editions. I walked into the store one afternoon and asked him for one such novel. He chuckled a little to himself, walked to a case, and pulled it from among it's peers. "This one?" He offered, holding out the book. I took it and an icy chill snaked up my spine. This was the one. Except I knew for certain that it was not ever printed on paper. "How did you get this?" I looked at him. "What do you mean?" He smiled, coy as ever. "This book was never released in any print edition. I know that for a fact, I checked The Cloud on my way over here." He shrugged, "Sometimes The Cloud is wrong." "You have to tell me how you got this, I don't understand how it's possible. You walk up to a random shelf and just pull it down like it's nothing, and it doesn't make any sense. What is really going on here?" "Not random," was his only response. "They're arranged through time." I tried not to be angry at this old man, but he was clearly keeping something from me. "How do you have every book I've ever asked you for, how is that possible? You've never once told me no, and I'm starting to believe there is something you're not telling me." Again, he shrugged. "Bound To Please." He smiled, but I wasn't having it. I stewed for a second and he asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with?" I know what I'll do, I thought to myself, I'll ask him for a book that doesn't exist, has never existed, and see what he does. "Yes, there is one other thing. Do you have Infinite Fractal Expansion by Ursula Wren?" In all these months, we'd never exchanged names. He didn't know that the book I was requesting was one that I had only the faintest idea of, tumbling around in the back of my mind. It was the book I was planning to write. "Well, no - that was the working title, I believe, but she ended up shortening it to Infinite Growth upon publishing. Much snappier, in my opinion." From a shelf a few feet away he plucked a book and placed it in my hand. I opened it, and saw the dedication - to my mom. I saw the publication date, over 2 years in the future. The first page began with a much cleaner version of the scraps I had written down. My jaw was hanging open as I thumbed through the rest of the book, skimming over pages and pages of beautiful prose. Prose about a character I'd invented, about a situation I was engineering in my mind. I stopped at the last chapter and began to read, but he gently took the book from my hands. "You can't read this yet." He said, "It'll spoil the ending." My body was numb, tingling with chills. "What - what are you?" He cocked an eyebrow up, "Just a well-read old man. Your book is going to be a smash, Ursula." He smiled. "I- I don't understand. How - How?" He winked, "I told you. They're arranged through time. All time."	Woolf’s Little Nook is a small bookshop located in front of Emma’s Bake Shop. Two of my favourite places in the town! Whenever I purchase a book, I always must start reading the first few chapters with a pastry and a cup of tea. The mornings are the best time to do it. The smell of fresh pastries from outside shifts into a waft of earthy wood and old books. “Good morning, Sophie!” A warm welcome from Mr. Bloom. “Good morning to you to, Mr. Bloom.” I nod at him. I stroll along the aisle, looking at the fiction section. “Say, what are you looking for? I might be of help.” He smiles while sipping coffee. “You always do, Mr. Bloom.” I laugh as he always have what I was looking for. “You sure?” He looks at me in the eye and gestures me to come over. Eyebrows raised, I walk towards the counter where he sits. “Is your coffee too strong? You seem a little persistent this morning.” “What are you looking for?” He puts down his coffee. “Hmm, I’m looking for…” I look around and glance outside the window. “I guess I want The Two Neighbours” “A little literal don’t you think?” Mr. Bloom laughs at me. “What do you mean?” There was a book facing down beside him. He flips it upward. The Two Neighbours by Sophie Plath “What is this?” “It’s your book.” I open it but found blank pages. “I don’t understand.” “When you do, write our story.” I look at Mr. Bloom and see him staring outside the window. A very lovely woman is selling pastries outside. “I will.”
	[WP] You’re a frequent patron of a tiny bookstore in your town. As improbable as it seems, the owner always has every book you ask for. On a whim, you ask him if he has a book that doesn’t exist—the one you want to write. He hands you a book. One the cover is the title you asked for and your name.	The bookstore was a relic of another time. Paper books had been long out of fashion by the time I was born, but when my mother passed away I'd come to inherit her collection - many of which were passed to her by her own mother - and in me that started a ravenous hunger for the physical manifestations of writing. The smell of the old books, the texture of their paper, the ratty paperbacks or the gold-foil embossed titles and authors stamped into their spines; all of these things reminded me to get my head out of The Cloud and back into the physical world. Plus they reminded me of her. As I made my way through her old collection of pulp mystery and romance novels, I came across a few gaps here and there. My mother always liked to collect everything an author she liked had written, so I knew these gaps weren't intentional. On a whim, I decided to check The Cloud for a bookstore so I could fill them, and that is how I - to my surprise - came across Bound to Please, the tiny local shop. When I was a little girl, my mother used to take me to the library every day after school. She loved to read, and knew the libraries were going to be closing down soon, so she thought it was important that I get a healthy introduction to her much beloved hobby. As I walked through the door of Bound To Please, a little bell jingled and I was overcome with memories of those libraries. Rows and rows of books lined the walls and shelves, from floor to nearly ceiling, covering every inch of the store except the counter in the back and the narrow paths between shelves. I tried poking through the books on the shelves, but they didn't seem to be sectioned off into genres like the novels were on The Cloud. There was no tagging system I was familiar with, and they didn't even seem to be in alphabetical order. Behind the counter, an ancient, slight man peered at me over his spectacles. I felt dizzy, like I'd been transported back to the early 21st century. People simply did not wear spectacles anymore. Why would you? Even the elderly weren't old enough to remember a time when those were commonplace. After watching me for a while with a smirk on his face, he finally spoke up, "Excuse me, miss - can I help you? Forgive me for saying so, but you look a little lost." "Yes, maybe," I said, but I was not hopeful that he could. "How are these books arranged? I am searching for a mystery book, written by an author named James Ellroy, it's an old out of print thing - I doubt you have it but I thought I might check anyway." I thought I saw a twinkle in his eye, it seemed mischievous and anachronistic for such an old man. He responded simply, "They're arranged through time. Which book are you looking for?" "It's called Killer on the Road, My mom collected his books and there's a gap in her collection I'm hoping to fill." He smiled sadly, "I am truly sorry about your mother. I'm glad you're taking comfort in her old books, the physical ones always seem to absorb something from their previous owners, don't they?" I hadn't said anything about my mother's death, so I was a bit taken aback by his comment, but I supposed that it must have been more obvious from the context than I presumed, so I shrugged it off. He continued, "Let me see if I can find it...", and stood to make his way towards one of the huge book cases. He made a beeline, and plucked the book directly off the shelf. "Ah, here we go. Killer on the Road by James Ellroy." He placed the book in my hand and sure enough, it was the one I'd requested. "Wow, okay thanks - that was easy!" I said, stunned by how effective he was at locating the book. "How much do I owe you?" He waved his hand and shook his head, "First one's on the house, an old paperback like that isn't worth much anyway. Just come back to see us, okay?" I thanked him profusely, and the little bell jingled as I walked through the door. The following week I went back to Bound To Please with another obscure request. The proprietor, who's name I never learned, played the same routine. He was coy at first, but then he walked directly to a shelf - seemingly at random - and let out an amused "Ah!" as he plucked the book I'd requested directly from it. There never seemed to be other customers in the shop, and he didn't seem to mind taking the time to help me. He also seemed to have read every book I requested, and would tell me something he liked about it. I appreciated his insight. Over the course of about three months, I must have visited the shop two dozen times - each time I came in with an obscure request, and each time the old man would find it instantly. He had everything, he read everything, and if I didn't know better I would have thought he knew everything. So I decided to test him. Almost none of the novels that had been released in the past fifty years or so had even a single run of print editions. I walked into the store one afternoon and asked him for one such novel. He chuckled a little to himself, walked to a case, and pulled it from among it's peers. "This one?" He offered, holding out the book. I took it and an icy chill snaked up my spine. This was the one. Except I knew for certain that it was not ever printed on paper. "How did you get this?" I looked at him. "What do you mean?" He smiled, coy as ever. "This book was never released in any print edition. I know that for a fact, I checked The Cloud on my way over here." He shrugged, "Sometimes The Cloud is wrong." "You have to tell me how you got this, I don't understand how it's possible. You walk up to a random shelf and just pull it down like it's nothing, and it doesn't make any sense. What is really going on here?" "Not random," was his only response. "They're arranged through time." I tried not to be angry at this old man, but he was clearly keeping something from me. "How do you have every book I've ever asked you for, how is that possible? You've never once told me no, and I'm starting to believe there is something you're not telling me." Again, he shrugged. "Bound To Please." He smiled, but I wasn't having it. I stewed for a second and he asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with?" I know what I'll do, I thought to myself, I'll ask him for a book that doesn't exist, has never existed, and see what he does. "Yes, there is one other thing. Do you have Infinite Fractal Expansion by Ursula Wren?" In all these months, we'd never exchanged names. He didn't know that the book I was requesting was one that I had only the faintest idea of, tumbling around in the back of my mind. It was the book I was planning to write. "Well, no - that was the working title, I believe, but she ended up shortening it to Infinite Growth upon publishing. Much snappier, in my opinion." From a shelf a few feet away he plucked a book and placed it in my hand. I opened it, and saw the dedication - to my mom. I saw the publication date, over 2 years in the future. The first page began with a much cleaner version of the scraps I had written down. My jaw was hanging open as I thumbed through the rest of the book, skimming over pages and pages of beautiful prose. Prose about a character I'd invented, about a situation I was engineering in my mind. I stopped at the last chapter and began to read, but he gently took the book from my hands. "You can't read this yet." He said, "It'll spoil the ending." My body was numb, tingling with chills. "What - what are you?" He cocked an eyebrow up, "Just a well-read old man. Your book is going to be a smash, Ursula." He smiled. "I- I don't understand. How - How?" He winked, "I told you. They're arranged through time. All time."	I blink. Look again. No, I was not mistaken. There was my name on a book I had thought of writing for a while now. I blink again, just to be sure. The morning started normal but now everything turned upside down in a heartbeat. 'You know... That this book doesn't exist yet?' 'Yes', the lovely old lady with her sparkling eyes replied. 'But... What is it about then?' - 'Its a book about possibilities, dreams, that kind of stuff' - 'But... how?' - 'Have you ever wondered if the page you just read would have turned out different, if you didn't open it at that exact time?' - 'Well yes... [That was one of the core thoughts behind my about-to-be book. Or should I say my would-have-been-about-to-be?]' - 'Good' was the only thing she said 'take it and have fun, authors get their first book for free'. Then she just... left and went to help another customer. I blink again, just to be sure. Then I open the first page. Its blank. Only a small handwritten dedication: 'The force works in mysterious ways. But so does a good whine.' I shake my head in disbelief 'Nobody would beleave me even if I include this in the book' and smile a little. 'That cheeky old lady'. Grinning from ear to ear I turn the page. It only says "I blink."
	[WP] You’re a frequent patron of a tiny bookstore in your town. As improbable as it seems, the owner always has every book you ask for. On a whim, you ask him if he has a book that doesn’t exist—the one you want to write. He hands you a book. One the cover is the title you asked for and your name.	"A Simple Story Of Complexity" by David Marcalek. It was a joke. He came into Bub's Books and asked for a book he was in the planning stages of writing. "How?" The cashier/owner everyone knew as Bub shrugged. "I'm good at what I do. That'll be $31.79." Dave opened his wallet and handed him a card. Bub took it and went to swipe it before noticing something. "How are you going to pay with your driver's license?" "No no, look at the name." He does. One of his eyebrows raise. He looks at Dave. "You ordered your own book?" Dave nodded. "Why?" "It was supposed to be a joke. You always seem to have any book I ask for, so I decided to ask for one that doesn't exist yet. Then, when you tell me you don't have it and couldn't find it, I'd say 'Well, that's because I haven't written it yet! But I'll make sure you get a copy.' But now... How?" Bub looked around, walked up to the front door, locked it, and put up an "Out to Lunch" sign. "Follow me," he beckoned and walked towards the back. Dave followed him, wondering what he could possibly show him in a small, cramped back room when it hit him. The smell of sulfur and... the cries of anguish? What in hell was going on? "Welcome to Hell's Infinite Library. Look you're a good guy, not coming here, and you're a nice customer too. Not like that one Karen-type who is definitely coming here. Coupon my ass. See, Knowledge is sort of the boss's thing. Started with the apple, yada yada. Anyway, he set up this punishment. Every book that ever was, every book that ever will be, every book that didn't exist, all of it can be found here." And then he smiles in a most inhuman manner. "And of course a library has to be sorted." Dave saw people shuffling around with carts of books that never empty, putting them on shelves that never fill. Some of them aren't books, just papers. "All of it here! Novels, treatises, poems, short works, letters, even creative writing exercises. Their punishment ends when they finish sorting everything and putting it on shelves, but humanity is ceaseless in its creations, so they'll never finish. Sisyphus had a rock, but at least he could get into a routine." His mind boggled at the implications of it all. "This is... wait, this is where you get all your books from? But you sell them!" He nods. "Yup. Bub is short for me, Beelzebub. With a book missing, the library can't be properly finished. Oh it comes back when the book is 'lost' or whatever." Dave's mind suddenly jumped at the implications. "Wait, that means there will never be a shortage of stuff to read! Biographies, entire works of Shakespeare, heck, even fan fiction--" Bub shakes his head and and waves his hands. "Whoa no no no no. No fan fiction. Please, we have some standards." ====================== For the record, I have nothing against fan fiction, just thought it was a good punchline \^\^	I blink. Look again. No, I was not mistaken. There was my name on a book I had thought of writing for a while now. I blink again, just to be sure. The morning started normal but now everything turned upside down in a heartbeat. 'You know... That this book doesn't exist yet?' 'Yes', the lovely old lady with her sparkling eyes replied. 'But... What is it about then?' - 'Its a book about possibilities, dreams, that kind of stuff' - 'But... how?' - 'Have you ever wondered if the page you just read would have turned out different, if you didn't open it at that exact time?' - 'Well yes... [That was one of the core thoughts behind my about-to-be book. Or should I say my would-have-been-about-to-be?]' - 'Good' was the only thing she said 'take it and have fun, authors get their first book for free'. Then she just... left and went to help another customer. I blink again, just to be sure. Then I open the first page. Its blank. Only a small handwritten dedication: 'The force works in mysterious ways. But so does a good whine.' I shake my head in disbelief 'Nobody would beleave me even if I include this in the book' and smile a little. 'That cheeky old lady'. Grinning from ear to ear I turn the page. It only says "I blink."
	[WP] You’re a frequent patron of a tiny bookstore in your town. As improbable as it seems, the owner always has every book you ask for. On a whim, you ask him if he has a book that doesn’t exist—the one you want to write. He hands you a book. One the cover is the title you asked for and your name.	Books are magic. In my life, at least, they represent something magical. Something out of this world, a transportation to another place. I favour fantasy – because who doesn’t want to escape this humdrum world and be able to cast spells of their own? It was this love of books and adventure that led me to something truly special. It is my peace. My respite. My haven. My own little slice of wonder. Busham’s Books. Every week, I take time out of my schedule to head into town. It’s nestled between two new shops – glitzy fashion chains that feature spotless displays of well-dressed mannequins. Busham’s sticks out like a sore thumb, a dishevelled looking shopfront with traditional lead windows and a heavy oak door. It looks, for lack of a better word, like it’s been pulled straight out of a fantasy novel. And maybe it has. Because ever since the first day, when I decided to head inside to that disorganised interior lit by traditional gas lanterns, the owner has displayed his own special brand of magic. Mr Bushham himself, his hair grey and wild about his head, beard combed straight and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses magnifying bright blue eyes, has the uncanny ability to find me any book I ask for. The first time it was a copy of Hp Lovecraft’s work. I was nervously looking around the shelves, aware that it was just me and him in this ancient looking shop. I could feel his eyes on me, but he wore a smile that kept the situation from getting too tense. After about ten minutes, I gave up. “Looking for something in particular?” He asked. “Yeah, but I don’t think you’ve got it.” He grinned, and I noticed then that he had a gold tooth in the front of his mouth. It glinted in the lamplight. “Try me.” He said. I explained what I was looking for and with a knowing nod, he ducked below his counter and handed me a copy. I looked down at it and had to stifle a laugh. “What are the chances?” “Chances?” He asked, leaning forward slightly and looking at me with curiosity. “What do you mean?” “That you’d have the book I was looking for just sitting under your desk?” “I don’t believe in chance, sir. Too unreliable.” And so it began. Each and every week I returned, always looking for a book I couldn’t find elsewhere. My reactions switched rapidly from surprise to wonder. From wonder to amazement and finally, to frustration. It became a game. I couldn’t even find the time to read the books he seemed to pull out of thin air for me, so instead I began searching Google for terms like ‘rarest books ever made’. But try as I might, Mr. Bushham just bent down behind his desk and produced the exact book I asked for. It’s been over a year now. He’s never failed, not once. But I am fed up of losing. I’ve devised a challenge. An impossible one. An undefeatable, impregnable challenge. And yet somehow…I have my doubts. The bell rings as I enter the shop. He looks up, his blue eyes bright with familiarity and the joy of the game we’ve created. “William!” “Mr Bushham.” “Oh please, Arthur is fine.” “Arthur, then.” “So what do you have for me this time? A Chaucer-era print? A banned edition of a foreign work?” His grin intensified. I shook her head and returned it. “No, Arthur. I thought I’d really challenge you. I’d like a copy of Demonology In The Modern Age by William Woodrofe.” To his credit, his smile didn’t falter. He sniffed the air for a moment. I waited, feeling the waves of victory wash over me. The book didn’t exist. I’d completely fabricated it. Bushham sniffed the air again, as if there was an unpleasant smell hanging around him. He frowned slightly. “Sporting of you, William. But as always…you need only ask.” He leaned down and to my astonishment, as he had done so many times before, slid an impossible book across the countertop. But this one was truly impossible. It was stamped in large lettering, authored by me. But I hadn’t written it. I’d never even tried to. It was just an idea I’d once had to study modern occult practices. And now here it was, realised in front of me. I don’t remember what happened next, other than that I took it without another word – pale-faced and cold. I left the bookshop, Mr Bushham’s cold blue eyes smiling warmly at me as I retreated. Just before I left, I felt a cold wind blow through the shop – but not from the door I’d opened. I turned to look, just once, and saw a shadow in place of Mr Bushham – a dark thing not of this world. Despite its lack of human features, I somehow knew it was smiling at me. “Books are magic,” it said in a voice that felt as though someone was drawing a cold knife along the bare bones of my spine. I left the shop. And its funny. Since I got it home and read it, the book has revealed so much to me. My own work, of course, my study of demons. Conducted entirely over a year period, interviewing a higher being from another realm. Interviews I had no recollection of, until I read this book where I’d recorded them. And there it was, in the first chapter – my description of the arch-demon of secret knowledge, Artras Bushrias. The shadowy figure with the smiling blue eyes. An ability to conjure and maintain illusions – to bewitch men and make them believe in their wildest dreams. The end of the book is most alarming. It discusses how anyone who gains the secret knowledge of the world of demons must then enter it. But I don’t know what that means for me. All I know is that when I tried to return to the shop, to ask questions of Bushham/Bushrias, it wasn’t there. The two retail stores next door had completely sandwiched it, with no space for another shop to have ever existed. So I’ve returned home to study the tome I wrote myself. Perhaps in it, I’ll find a way to contact him and ask all of the unresolved questions. To discover more about the secret world around us. After all, books are magic.	I blink. Look again. No, I was not mistaken. There was my name on a book I had thought of writing for a while now. I blink again, just to be sure. The morning started normal but now everything turned upside down in a heartbeat. 'You know... That this book doesn't exist yet?' 'Yes', the lovely old lady with her sparkling eyes replied. 'But... What is it about then?' - 'Its a book about possibilities, dreams, that kind of stuff' - 'But... how?' - 'Have you ever wondered if the page you just read would have turned out different, if you didn't open it at that exact time?' - 'Well yes... [That was one of the core thoughts behind my about-to-be book. Or should I say my would-have-been-about-to-be?]' - 'Good' was the only thing she said 'take it and have fun, authors get their first book for free'. Then she just... left and went to help another customer. I blink again, just to be sure. Then I open the first page. Its blank. Only a small handwritten dedication: 'The force works in mysterious ways. But so does a good whine.' I shake my head in disbelief 'Nobody would beleave me even if I include this in the book' and smile a little. 'That cheeky old lady'. Grinning from ear to ear I turn the page. It only says "I blink."
	[WP] You’re a frequent patron of a tiny bookstore in your town. As improbable as it seems, the owner always has every book you ask for. On a whim, you ask him if he has a book that doesn’t exist—the one you want to write. He hands you a book. One the cover is the title you asked for and your name.	Books are magic. In my life, at least, they represent something magical. Something out of this world, a transportation to another place. I favour fantasy – because who doesn’t want to escape this humdrum world and be able to cast spells of their own? It was this love of books and adventure that led me to something truly special. It is my peace. My respite. My haven. My own little slice of wonder. Busham’s Books. Every week, I take time out of my schedule to head into town. It’s nestled between two new shops – glitzy fashion chains that feature spotless displays of well-dressed mannequins. Busham’s sticks out like a sore thumb, a dishevelled looking shopfront with traditional lead windows and a heavy oak door. It looks, for lack of a better word, like it’s been pulled straight out of a fantasy novel. And maybe it has. Because ever since the first day, when I decided to head inside to that disorganised interior lit by traditional gas lanterns, the owner has displayed his own special brand of magic. Mr Bushham himself, his hair grey and wild about his head, beard combed straight and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses magnifying bright blue eyes, has the uncanny ability to find me any book I ask for. The first time it was a copy of Hp Lovecraft’s work. I was nervously looking around the shelves, aware that it was just me and him in this ancient looking shop. I could feel his eyes on me, but he wore a smile that kept the situation from getting too tense. After about ten minutes, I gave up. “Looking for something in particular?” He asked. “Yeah, but I don’t think you’ve got it.” He grinned, and I noticed then that he had a gold tooth in the front of his mouth. It glinted in the lamplight. “Try me.” He said. I explained what I was looking for and with a knowing nod, he ducked below his counter and handed me a copy. I looked down at it and had to stifle a laugh. “What are the chances?” “Chances?” He asked, leaning forward slightly and looking at me with curiosity. “What do you mean?” “That you’d have the book I was looking for just sitting under your desk?” “I don’t believe in chance, sir. Too unreliable.” And so it began. Each and every week I returned, always looking for a book I couldn’t find elsewhere. My reactions switched rapidly from surprise to wonder. From wonder to amazement and finally, to frustration. It became a game. I couldn’t even find the time to read the books he seemed to pull out of thin air for me, so instead I began searching Google for terms like ‘rarest books ever made’. But try as I might, Mr. Bushham just bent down behind his desk and produced the exact book I asked for. It’s been over a year now. He’s never failed, not once. But I am fed up of losing. I’ve devised a challenge. An impossible one. An undefeatable, impregnable challenge. And yet somehow…I have my doubts. The bell rings as I enter the shop. He looks up, his blue eyes bright with familiarity and the joy of the game we’ve created. “William!” “Mr Bushham.” “Oh please, Arthur is fine.” “Arthur, then.” “So what do you have for me this time? A Chaucer-era print? A banned edition of a foreign work?” His grin intensified. I shook her head and returned it. “No, Arthur. I thought I’d really challenge you. I’d like a copy of Demonology In The Modern Age by William Woodrofe.” To his credit, his smile didn’t falter. He sniffed the air for a moment. I waited, feeling the waves of victory wash over me. The book didn’t exist. I’d completely fabricated it. Bushham sniffed the air again, as if there was an unpleasant smell hanging around him. He frowned slightly. “Sporting of you, William. But as always…you need only ask.” He leaned down and to my astonishment, as he had done so many times before, slid an impossible book across the countertop. But this one was truly impossible. It was stamped in large lettering, authored by me. But I hadn’t written it. I’d never even tried to. It was just an idea I’d once had to study modern occult practices. And now here it was, realised in front of me. I don’t remember what happened next, other than that I took it without another word – pale-faced and cold. I left the bookshop, Mr Bushham’s cold blue eyes smiling warmly at me as I retreated. Just before I left, I felt a cold wind blow through the shop – but not from the door I’d opened. I turned to look, just once, and saw a shadow in place of Mr Bushham – a dark thing not of this world. Despite its lack of human features, I somehow knew it was smiling at me. “Books are magic,” it said in a voice that felt as though someone was drawing a cold knife along the bare bones of my spine. I left the shop. And its funny. Since I got it home and read it, the book has revealed so much to me. My own work, of course, my study of demons. Conducted entirely over a year period, interviewing a higher being from another realm. Interviews I had no recollection of, until I read this book where I’d recorded them. And there it was, in the first chapter – my description of the arch-demon of secret knowledge, Artras Bushrias. The shadowy figure with the smiling blue eyes. An ability to conjure and maintain illusions – to bewitch men and make them believe in their wildest dreams. The end of the book is most alarming. It discusses how anyone who gains the secret knowledge of the world of demons must then enter it. But I don’t know what that means for me. All I know is that when I tried to return to the shop, to ask questions of Bushham/Bushrias, it wasn’t there. The two retail stores next door had completely sandwiched it, with no space for another shop to have ever existed. So I’ve returned home to study the tome I wrote myself. Perhaps in it, I’ll find a way to contact him and ask all of the unresolved questions. To discover more about the secret world around us. After all, books are magic.	I couldn’t believe my eyes. There it was. In my hand. Exactly what I wanted. But...how? My eyes darted to Eddie as he gave me the lovely cheerful smile he always gives me. “Eddie...what? What is this?” My voice was filled with complete disbelief. “It’s the book you wanted, right? “Black River”, by Paul K. Kresley, your very own.” My voice bounced in my mouth as I tried to think of any sort of explanation. I’d barely gotten the title down, now this? “Eddie, I don’t understand. Is this a joke?” Eddies jovial smile became a worried frown, as he began to scratch his palm. That’s what Eddie did when he was nervous. “Is it not what you wanted, Paul?” Asked Eddie skittishly, his pure white lowered. I just couldn’t speak. It didn’t make any sense. How could Eddie have it? “Where did you get this from Eddie?” I said as I pushed open the wooden barrier protecting Eddies desk from the rest of the shop. “Paul, I don’t remember where i got it, what’s wrong anyway?” I squatted down and started pulling out books from within the shelves in his desk. “A Very Nice Wednesday”, “The Man and The Moon”, “Red Paint”, “The Pragmatic”, all of the written by Paul K. Kresley “I cant have you rummaging in here, Paul! What’s wrong?” I shove the books into Eddie’s face. “I didn’t write these!” I yell erratically into his face, trying to contain my emotions. He gave a sigh of annoyance and rolled his eyes. “Of course you did, they’ve been out for years.” “No they haven’t! I’ve barely gotten past the first chapter of my first book!” Eddie looks shocked, his mouth dangling open. He slowly grabs his dark green swivel chair and takes a seat. “Oh dear...” he says under his breath as he strokes his hairless chin. He looks over to where all the other customers are, before standing up and shoving me out of his desk. “Everybody Out!” He shouts, “Put back what you are holding and leave now!” Cries of sadness and confusion erupt from the customers. “Everybody OUT!!!” People start putting their books away and heading for the door, but Paul wouldn’t budge. “Eddie...” I say, hoping he’ll listen, but he just stares at me, so I have no choice but to leave.
	[WP] You’re a frequent patron of a tiny bookstore in your town. As improbable as it seems, the owner always has every book you ask for. On a whim, you ask him if he has a book that doesn’t exist—the one you want to write. He hands you a book. One the cover is the title you asked for and your name.	- Anything unusual? - He says giving me a smile. - The pages... Most of them are blank. I still couldn't believe what my eyes were contemplating, even though my hands could feel it. Of course the pages were blank, I didn't write it yet. This book belongs to the realm of the ideas. Hell, even I don't know the details, the story, the characters. - Well, I only gave what you asked me. - His eyes closed as he moved towards one of the bookshelves. - Sometimes, our imagination can create what is impossible and sometimes it can be shut tight to what's in front of us. See this empty shelf? This is where ideas come and stay for awhile. Sometimes they grow and become stories, sometimes they just disappear. - Well, then how can you have these ideas in a book that's not even written yet? That's when a breeze flowed through the wooden walls of the store and gently touched the owner's hand. The room was becoming brighter and brighter like the sun was getting through the roof. My heart accelerated. Glowing particles appeared on the shelf and flew with the breeze towards that man. In a duration of a breath everything went back to normal, like nothing happened. But there was a glowing page. A single glowing page. - This is the beginning of a thought. If this is going to a book, that's up to you. - His eyes were wide open. - I never sold just books, I sold ideas. The books you bought from me were ideas that someone else had and published it. - So, that page is a thought of mine? - Maybe... But even if it's not, you can have it. Ideas are meant to be shared. Just don't have evil ideas, or this place might not be here anymore for anyone to enjoy. My feet could barely move as I walked outside of the store. I'm not sure what happened, if it really happened. Was that all my imagination? Am I dreaming? If not, how long have I been there? Did I even say goodbye? But more importantly, can I come back with more ideas?	I walked into Mr. Slinky Bots Books For All. More commonly known as Slinky’s or Bots books. As soon as i opened the wooden door, i saw the wondrous sight of all sorts of books of different sizes, shapes, and color stalked on bookshelf upon book shelf. I continued walking into the store towards the counter where Mr. Slinky Bots himself, was sitting in an old rocking chair reading. As i approached, he looked up. A smile spread across his wrinkly face. “Well if it isn’t Mr. James Parter!” He said to me. “It is indeed Sir.” I replied smiling in return. “what can i do for you today my boy!” He asked me. I hesitated before answering. “Well I know it might be a little far fetched, but i thought i’d ask anyway,” I started. Mr. Slinky’s smile widened a bit. “Do you happen to have a copy of the first addition Emma?” I knew this was an outrageous request, but recently I had grown suspicious that Mr. Slinky was hiding something and, weird as it may seem, this was my way of testing it. Mr. Slinky’s face light up. “I do! wait here for a moment” he said and he hurried past me towards the back of the store. My jaw dropped. How was this possible. It wasn’t possible!! This was crazy. maybe i’m was dreaming. I pinched my arm and felt a sharp pain. No i wasn’t dreaming. I calmed myself down. there was no guarantee Mr. slinky bot even had the book. I waited a moment for him to come back and when he did I saw in his hands, A battered old book entitled Emma. what was going on. Mr. Slinky handed me the book. I took it in my hands staring down at it. “Is everything ok?” Mr. Slinky asked. “Fine.” I said. Then i got an idea. “do you have a copy of The Quiet Street By James Parter?” that was the title of the book i was currently in the process of writing. Mr. Slinky reached down bellow the counter and pulled out a new looking book. “here you go.” He said. It was the book. “i’m afraid it’s not finished yet, though.” He winked.
	[WP] "Could you please explain to this committee how a garden-variety crow managed to operate a submachine gun?"	\[Poem\] Before it fired you heard a caw And you look up there in awe "'Tis a crow on that gun" You think yourself the only one But no! The man beside you croak: "'Tis a jackdaw" \--- Not really great at poems, but I wanted to make the joke.	"Dr. Nibbert ! Could you please explain to this committee how a garden-variety crow managed to operate a sub-machine gun!?" "Okay..Calm down there...It's just a crow who can operate a gun. It's not a big deal. " "But Dr. Nibbert." "You committee people need to calm down." "It's a fucking crow who can operate a fucking gun? How the fuck am I supposed to calm down, you dolt?" "Dolt? I am a scientific genius. I caused a mouse to lose the fear of all cats. I made a car designed for dogs and specifically dogs to operate. I made a tiger-person by splicing Tiger DNA and Human DNA and putting that in a cloning machine! I even made a fire-breathing ostrich!" "Dr. Nibbert! You are insane." "But I bet you can't pull off the things, I can do." "You've a point." "I am glad, you understand." "But an ordinary dog can't follow the traffic instructions! The mouse has probably become some random cat's chow. And the crow killed a person!" "I..Ummm..." "Oh my!", said Dr. Nibbert's assistant Satoshi. "I have to give you credit for making a tiger-person though. Where is he now?", said the committee leader. "Well, he's a very rich now," said Dr Nibbert,"He's a cereal mascot." "Oh. And Dr. Nibbert?", said the committee leader. "Yes." "Why do I keep seeing wacky maniacs like you as scientists!" "Three words. Don't underestimate the wacky?" "Actually, doctor. That was four words," said Satoshi. "Yeah. That was clearly four words. And not three," said the committee leader. "Satoshi. Stop that" said Dr. Nibbert. ~~-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~~ (I am open to critique.)
	[WP] A Dragon kidnaps a Princess. The catch: she's a crying, screaming and annoying toddler and he's not ready to be a parent	“It is time, my son,” my father said to me. “It is time you proved yourself by vanquishing your first foe, achieving your dragon’s destiny.” “Who’s he going to be able to vanquish?” sniggered my oldest brother, a puff of steam escaping from his nostrils. “I don’t think he could take down a toothpick.” I winced but didn’t say anything. What could I say? Otri was eight times the size of me. If I talked back to him, he’d smack me across the canyon with his spiky tail. I think that was my first conscious memory, sailing across the abyss and then landing hard against the rocks after annoying Otri one time too many. “Now, now,” my father said to the assembled crowd of his sons. “Rlemu, Just because you vanquished the fierce goddess Bashtet-“ “He couldn’t take down one of her pet cats,” scoffed Rlemu. “And Otroi vanquished one of the Nereids- “ “He couldn’t spear one of her pet fish,” giggled Otri. “And Levanael vanquished one of the Valhallans-“ “He couldn’t tickle one of her pet goats.” “Just because Sephiroth is the weakest, puniest and most timid of my sons, does not mean he is incapable of anything,” boomed my father. “I am sure he is more than up to the task of vanquishing his foe I have selected for him.” My brothers shook their enormous heads and flared their giant wings. “What’s her deal?” asked Rlemu. “She some kinda minor witch who gets her spells wrong and burns holes in the carpet?” “No,” said my father. “No, she is, from all accounts, a perfectly normal human – “ “A human?” cackled Otri. “What, we’re capturing humans now? I didn’t know we were picking on the lesser these days – “ “A human princess – “ “Ugh, princesses,” groaned Levanael. “Give me a Norse goddess to fight any day. I can’t imagine some princess is going to be any fun as a sparring partner.” “And Sephiroth will not fight her; he will capture her –“ “Wow. So really, what’s wrong with her?” asked Rlemu. “She got a bum leg or something?” “I have it on good authority that she is of perfect health,” declared my father. “But – “ We waited. “But she walks with - ” he hesitated. “Oh my god, just spit it out, Dad,” said Otri. “She uses stilts, or something?” “She walks with a slight waddle,” he said solemnly. “And she is rather short.” “How short?” “Never mind,” said my father. “She is a perfectly normal princess who will be a perfectly valuable hostage for ransom, so this family can gain some much-needed gold.” “Gold?” chorused my brothers. “What?” moaned Levanael. “What is this world coming to? Ransom?” “A thousand years ago, those demigods and goddesses we battled could really put up a scrap,” complained Rlemu. “They had fire in their bellies. Well, metaphorically at least.” “I remember when I fought the Nereid,” said Otri. “She just about hacked me to death with her attack-Piranhas before I got a grip on her and put an end to it.” “Bashtet conjured a cloud of bats out of thin air. They flew into my eyes and tried to bite me,” said Rlemi with a grin. “And then I swallowed her whole – “ “And Freyja whipped up a wind to blind me and drove a spear into me,” said Levanel proudly. “Right above my heart – “ He proudly stuck out his chest, displaying the battle-wound, which he’d been bragging about for at least a thousand years before I was born. “Well, yes, but there’s no one like that around these days,” declared my father. “We all know the dragons are diminishing – “ “Sephiroth’s mom was the smallest dragon I’ve ever seen,” said Levanel. “No wonder he’s such a runt- “ “And so, capturing Princess Plumeria will have to do.” “Because she has gold,” said Rlemu glumly. “And capturing her will be easy. Even for him.” They lowered their heads to look at me, as they’d been talking over my head the whole time. Now they peered at me down their long noses as though what they saw disappointed them. I was a tenth the size of my father; an eighth the size of my largest brother. I’d never met my mother, but I knew she had been the scale of a housecat compared to my father. As soon as she’d laid her egg with me inside, my father had flown off with it, carrying me back to my brothers. He didn’t want an inferior dragon to raise me, he’d explained. He’d raise me among real dragons who could teach me what it meant to be one. I’d been born two thousand years after the last of my brothers, and I had come of age in a much-diminished time; that’s what I’d heard as long as I’d been old enough to remember. Gone was the age of heroes battling worthy dragon-foes. None of that mattered anymore. Gold was the new standard for glory amongst the kingdoms of Earth, my father explained to me. And if a princess had gold, that meant she was good enough to hold hostage. Simple as that. I didn’t like the idea of capturing a princess, I must confess. I don’t know which part of it bothered me the most: the idea of an unfair fight – I’d been on the wrong end of that arrangement for all my life – or the idea that there was no such thing as glory anymore, that what I did wasn’t glorious, but mercenary. Most painful of all was the idea that I could not have achieved a tenth of what my brothers had done to prove themselves. I was so much smaller, so much tamer – and at nearly three-hundred years of age, it was unlikely I would find any way of improving myself so I could become more like them: fierce, strong giants. “Good luck out there, Kid,” said Otri, before he flew off into the twilight. He didn’t sound as though he meant it. \\\*	[POEM] Gather round little ones, As I tell you the story Of a bratty little Princess Who wasn't destined for Glory. "Kidnapped by a dragon" you may roll your eyes, But allow me to help you be a little more wise. When first the dragon took her he wanted a deal With her parents, but alas it never came through, She was so annoying she became his next meal, And that's why you be nice to others, my dudes.
	[WP] A Dragon kidnaps a Princess. The catch: she's a crying, screaming and annoying toddler and he's not ready to be a parent	‘That sack seems a little small for a whole princess to be inside,’ I thought worriedly as two of my kobold servants approached me, lugging a burlap sack along between them, and I hoped they had remembered this time that I wanted the princess brought alive. “We got her, sire! The princess from the kingdom of Northgate!” one of them cried victoriously in his raspy reptilian voice. Something in the bag moved, quenching my fears that a chopped up or folded corpse awaited me, and yet still I worried; the princess of Northgate was, by all rumor, a tall, graceful young woman deserving of a dragon’s attention, and human. The sack they presented might have fit a dwarf. The kobolds set the bag down before me, untied the string holding it closed, and then scurried away. I arched my neck down and brought my nose close to the top of the bag. A sniff told me it was indeed a human inside, and then a small face popped up out of the opening to regard me with big blue eyes, glittering in the torch-lit cave. A mop of curly, messy blonde hair dangled around her face, framing her round puffy cheeks and her pursed lips. She regarded me curiously, as I did her, and then she spoke. “What.” It wasn’t so much a question as it was just a learned statement, like perhaps she simply knew that people who were confused tended to say ‘what?’ I lifted my head and glared at the kobolds. “This child is three! Or two or four! Five? I don’t have a perfect grasp of human age but this is not the blasted princess!” The kobolds shrieked and held each other. “No! Your Greatness she is! She is the princess! We stole her away from the castle yard, and she wears a circlet identifying her as human royalty!” I narrowed my eyes at the kobolds, and opened my grand maw to continue reprimanding them further, but was distracted as I felt the touch of a small hand on my foreleg. I curved my neck around to find that the small child had waddled over to my left leg and set her hand against it. “Pretty,” she declared simply as she poked at one of my scales. “Red.” “Excuse me, child,” I spoke, my voice low and rumbly. Rather than turn the girl just leaned back and craned her neck to stare up at me. Indeed, as the kobold had said, a circlet denoting royalty sat tangled into the mess of her hair, but at the angle she held her head, it started to slide off. “… Hm. Are you Princess Kelea?” She shook her head, loosening the circlet further. “Kiki is my sister. We’re playing hide and seek!” Her circlet fell, clattering to the ground, and the girl turned and stooped to pick it up. “Oops.” I sighed deeply, then shot my kobolds an accusing look. “I was not aware the ruler of Northgate had begotten a second daughter, but those idiots should have known I was not sending them for a toddler. What is your name, girl?” “Eebee.” “Ibi? A nickname?” The girl set the circlet back into her hair and adjusted it poorly, leaving it crooked and prone to falling out again. “Eebee,” she repeated. “I see.” Then I furrowed my brow. “You’re… not afraid.” She snickered, and touched my leg again. “Not scary. You’re pretty. Red.” I frowned, and then leaned my head towards the kobolds, green and blue, their scales matte as opposed to my shiny glossy self. “Them?” “They said they can help me hide.” Then Ibi tucked her chin and smiled mischievously. “Kiki can’t find me now.” “Help you hide, hmm? All that cleverness and you snatched the wrong princess…” “We are terribly sorry Sire! We will go find this Kelea and bring her immediately!” the green one shouted. “Nay,” I said through a heavy exhale. “Just return the runt and be done with it. If they’ve discovered that this one’s been taken they will be on high alert, and will have the princess well-guarded.” The blue one began to stutter. “But… but then returning this one wi-without being spotted will be-” “Silence. I’m sure you two clever idiots will manage.” Then I regarded the girl once again. The look on her face told me she hadn’t quite grasped what we were speaking about, but she was beginning to notice something was off. “Ibi. My friends here are going to bring you to a different hiding spot, a better one closer to your garden.” Her suspicion fled as determination crossed her face, and she nodded. “Kiki won’t find me!” “Yes… you are very good at hiding.” “Thanks. You are very pretty.” “… Thanks.” “What’s your name?” I twisted my mouth in consideration. “… You can just call me Red. Back into the bag now, little Ibi.” “Okay. Bye bye Red!” she said as she stepped back into the bag and sat. The kobolds slinked up to the burlap sack, fearful of my piercing gaze, and tied off the opening. “Sorry, Sire,” they both offered again before they scurried off, carrying the tiny princess between them. I huffed and lied my head down on my forelegs, disappointed, and yet a smile tugged across my lips. I supposed the child had been somewhat entertaining. I spoke to myself. “Perhaps we will meet again one day, Little Ibi.” r/TheCornerStories	[POEM] Gather round little ones, As I tell you the story Of a bratty little Princess Who wasn't destined for Glory. "Kidnapped by a dragon" you may roll your eyes, But allow me to help you be a little more wise. When first the dragon took her he wanted a deal With her parents, but alas it never came through, She was so annoying she became his next meal, And that's why you be nice to others, my dudes.
	[WP] You are immortal and have been working on an alien ship for the last 80 years alongside aliens that have a much longer life span than humans. They have begun to notice your lack of aging in your time spent with them.	"We're roundabout the Scollassi Cluster," I said, pointing at the holo of the local stars grouped together. We'd spent the last hour guessing where we were, "Has to be, look at that red giant next to that yellow dwarf." "Hollis," Stoop hissed, he was a reptilian Two'nog who was completely naked due to some religious holiday or another. Who knew with his overly religious species. It seemed almost every other day they're celebrating some prophet or the other who sacrificed themselves for an egg cluster or something else dramatic. He continued and I noticed everyone had stopped chattering as if they knew what he was going to ask me, "I am three hundred of your years old and I have been reading about humans. Even with advances in your medicals since Contact was made your species still only lives to one-hundred twenty on average. We all feel very sorry for your short life spans, but..." "Go on," I said, my smile slowly fading. Here it comes, I thought. "You have been on the Alias for eighty years," Stoop hissed, he adjusted a compad in front of him nervously, "I have checked the ship's records. You listed your age as forty when you were taken on board. The math puts you at one-hundred twenty." I snuck a glance at the myriad of aliens representing outcasts from the galactic community watching me with interest, "I have seen pictures of your elderly. You do not appear as they are." "Healthy diet that doesn't include live prey," I said, drawing a chuckle from the group, "Besides, Stoop, your records say that you'd never bite anyone when you get drunk on that methane crap that passes as an intoxicant for your species but I have scars in multiple places that proves that wrong." There was now genuine laughter at this. "That is very humorous," Stoop hissed, his eyes narrowing to show mirth, "But still Hollis, are you saying you lied on your enlistment forms? What were you? Twenty? So that would still put you as elderly but we have all looked at pictures of your elderly and you do not appear to match." "Fine, fine," I said, deflating, I had run from humanity. Getting tired of faking dying every thirty years so I would not draw attention. I figured I'd be safe from questioning among aliens. This had proven I'd stayed too long, I guess. Lesson learned, "How old are you grandpas and grandmas?" I gave their translators time to do their work. "I am six hundred twenty-four," said Twiz, a furry Gundrakki told me, breathing heavily through a face plate. "Two hundred eighty-five," said Gall, a shape-melter from Alpha Delta or somewhere close. They went on and on, representatives of their species giving their ages. "I see," I stated plainly, "If I recall from the Guide, the average lifespan is about a thousand years old. With the oldest sentient creature in the universe clocking in at two-thousand seven hundred-and twenty something odd years, ancient even as measured by her long-lived species." There were a multitude of nods and shakes and whatever passed for affirmitives. "Well," I said and let it go, "I was born on Terra approximately twenty-two thousand years ago. I lost count actually, might be a few thousand more than that." The aliens around me were silent as second after second went by. "Bullshit," a Gobbi said and laughed heartily, "Damnit Hollis, we're being serious!" His laughter had broken the spell and the room roared with different sounds of humor and Stoop found it so funny he slapped his tail into the hull. "Seriously guys," I laughed along with them, "I'm just in really good shape for my age." "You are ok," Stoop said slapping me on the back, "For a human." As the group dispersed I made a mental note to "die" in an airlock accident on the next station. I had more than enough creds saved to get a cheap lifeless clone made. I wouldn't be collecting insurance money so there would be no investigation. After twenty-two thousand years I decided I had learned my lesson. Thirty years max was how long I'd stay, no matter where the galaxy took me.	They are not temporal beings. “Back then”, “now” and “someday” mean nothing to them. But “never” does hold some meaning to them. They take it as a logical impossibility, such as two atoms existing in the same space simultaneously. At the same time. Damn. It’s hard for me to say it in a non-temporal manner because I am temporal. Well, I thought I was. But it seems I am not as much as I thought. Back when they brought me into the hexagon, I didn’t understand them. They refrained from constant communication, and what little they did tell me flooded my mind in an unnatural manner. As if it was knowledge that had always been there. Instructions. How to fix the machine. It was a familiar understanding, and it would forever be imprinted into me, in the same way that I could always ride a bike no matter how old I was. “How old”… It’s been so long now. And yet, I am the same. Nothing has changed in my body, and whenever I think about it too much, anguish consumes me. They have noticed too. I know they have. It is normal for them, but for something like me… A “stain”, they called me. To them, temporal beings exist as in a canvas. The stain begins somewhere, and ends somewhere. Because they are stuck here, they see no sense in looking beyond the single line that we understand as the “now”. But they could gaze at it all from afar. See the whole picture. And it seems that they have. They have brought me here, into the heart of the hexagon, to speak with the great-seeing one. Since they do not, cannot age, their hierarchy is based on vision. Who can see the widest picture. Before it, I am minuscule. Before it, I am to be nothing more than a stain. And yet, it gazes at me in a way that none of them have before. And then it speaks. And I know the meaning of it all. Why they brought me here. Why, for the past eighty years, I have remained here, repeating the same tasks, fixing a machine that continually breaks in the same way. They are not stuck here. It was all a way of being granted entry. A way of transcending what I thought I was. I am to become more. Never before has one of my kind been chosen. I am to break the “never”. A stain, becoming a line.
	[WP] You are immortal and have been working on an alien ship for the last 80 years alongside aliens that have a much longer life span than humans. They have begun to notice your lack of aging in your time spent with them.	"We're roundabout the Scollassi Cluster," I said, pointing at the holo of the local stars grouped together. We'd spent the last hour guessing where we were, "Has to be, look at that red giant next to that yellow dwarf." "Hollis," Stoop hissed, he was a reptilian Two'nog who was completely naked due to some religious holiday or another. Who knew with his overly religious species. It seemed almost every other day they're celebrating some prophet or the other who sacrificed themselves for an egg cluster or something else dramatic. He continued and I noticed everyone had stopped chattering as if they knew what he was going to ask me, "I am three hundred of your years old and I have been reading about humans. Even with advances in your medicals since Contact was made your species still only lives to one-hundred twenty on average. We all feel very sorry for your short life spans, but..." "Go on," I said, my smile slowly fading. Here it comes, I thought. "You have been on the Alias for eighty years," Stoop hissed, he adjusted a compad in front of him nervously, "I have checked the ship's records. You listed your age as forty when you were taken on board. The math puts you at one-hundred twenty." I snuck a glance at the myriad of aliens representing outcasts from the galactic community watching me with interest, "I have seen pictures of your elderly. You do not appear as they are." "Healthy diet that doesn't include live prey," I said, drawing a chuckle from the group, "Besides, Stoop, your records say that you'd never bite anyone when you get drunk on that methane crap that passes as an intoxicant for your species but I have scars in multiple places that proves that wrong." There was now genuine laughter at this. "That is very humorous," Stoop hissed, his eyes narrowing to show mirth, "But still Hollis, are you saying you lied on your enlistment forms? What were you? Twenty? So that would still put you as elderly but we have all looked at pictures of your elderly and you do not appear to match." "Fine, fine," I said, deflating, I had run from humanity. Getting tired of faking dying every thirty years so I would not draw attention. I figured I'd be safe from questioning among aliens. This had proven I'd stayed too long, I guess. Lesson learned, "How old are you grandpas and grandmas?" I gave their translators time to do their work. "I am six hundred twenty-four," said Twiz, a furry Gundrakki told me, breathing heavily through a face plate. "Two hundred eighty-five," said Gall, a shape-melter from Alpha Delta or somewhere close. They went on and on, representatives of their species giving their ages. "I see," I stated plainly, "If I recall from the Guide, the average lifespan is about a thousand years old. With the oldest sentient creature in the universe clocking in at two-thousand seven hundred-and twenty something odd years, ancient even as measured by her long-lived species." There were a multitude of nods and shakes and whatever passed for affirmitives. "Well," I said and let it go, "I was born on Terra approximately twenty-two thousand years ago. I lost count actually, might be a few thousand more than that." The aliens around me were silent as second after second went by. "Bullshit," a Gobbi said and laughed heartily, "Damnit Hollis, we're being serious!" His laughter had broken the spell and the room roared with different sounds of humor and Stoop found it so funny he slapped his tail into the hull. "Seriously guys," I laughed along with them, "I'm just in really good shape for my age." "You are ok," Stoop said slapping me on the back, "For a human." As the group dispersed I made a mental note to "die" in an airlock accident on the next station. I had more than enough creds saved to get a cheap lifeless clone made. I wouldn't be collecting insurance money so there would be no investigation. After twenty-two thousand years I decided I had learned my lesson. Thirty years max was how long I'd stay, no matter where the galaxy took me.	"Hey man are you immortal or something?" the humanoid alien with translucent blue skin jested. I know him as Lupe, although his name in his native language is unpronounceable with a human tongue. "Yes," I replied matter of factly. "No, seriously," Lupe's face turned a shade of mint green, indicating he was feeling tense, "We've all been wondering for the past decade or so, but felt it was too rude to ask such a thing." "No worries, Lupe! I was wondering why y'all had not asked about this yet. I really am immortal!" I said cheerfully. "That's amazing!" "Indeed!" The end.
	[WP] You are immortal and have been working on an alien ship for the last 80 years alongside aliens that have a much longer life span than humans. They have begun to notice your lack of aging in your time spent with them.	I was born at some point in the time they called BC. I don't know when, years weren't really kept track of in the poorer areas where I was born. I don't remember much of that time, really. It was all so long ago. I lived for so many centuries on Earth I lost count of them. Some of them blurred together. Some, of course, were more interesting. China's '3 Kingdoms' phase was fascinating (though there were far more than 3 at most points). The age of the viking was fun. I actually joined up with a crew and became a vikinger. The rise and fall of the Roman Empire followed by that horrible inquisition, now that was a sight to see. I even got caught and tortured by some of those men for witchcraft. Getting myself back together after they tore me apart on that stupid table was a pain in the ass. And in the everything else. But mostly it was all so boring. All of the interesting things seemed to happen when I was on the other side of the world. The discovery of other continents, the rise of colonialism, the fall of colonialism, the first two World Wars, men walking on the moon, the next two World Wars... Who knows where I was for any of that. But there was finally a day when I was in the right place at the right time. The day they were looking for volunteers to go farther into space. Interstellar travel. You bet your ass if your race has one that I signed up immediately. On the surface I was exactly what they were looking for. Someone who was unattached (they thought I was an orphan, which was technically true! Though both of my parents had need dead for far longer than they could ever guess.), someone young (I was stuck somewhere in my 20's. Honestly I'm thankful for that at least. Being an immortal infant would have been a drag), someone who was healthy. Someone who was probably suicidal. So off into space I went. Can't be suicidal if you can't die. Our small team was warned that we were probably going to die in space, if not from the conditions then just from old age. And for everyone but me that was correct. Yusan, Carol, Mike, Ishaan... Honestly it's been a while since I remembered mortal names. But I mourned each of them deeply. And then I was alone. And I stayed alone for a while. I stopped communicating with Base when one tech mentioned how impressively old I was. The silence of space was one of the worst things I've ever experienced. But I sailed on, because what choice did I have? The food supplies dwindled, but I could not starve to death. The water too, as there was only so many times urine could truly be purified. On and on I drifted, through space and in and out of consciousness. I begged for the release of death to no avail. And then my ship was picked up, caught in a beam of light that was pulling me into a larger ship. And for the first time I saw another human. And some others that were something else entirely. Apparently in my absence humans had finally achieved FTL speed and had become part of the galactic stage. I was taken aboard a Gorean Ship, and cared for by the human doctor. An old man named Dr. Flavis. As I was slowly brought back to health by the doctor, I kept my mouth shut and my ears open. The good doctor and his crew mates were chatty, thankfully. Apparently Dr. Flavis was the first human that the Goreans had any contact with. He cheerfully told me all about the ship, the crew, the Goreans, and I just basked in the sound of a voice other than my own. I became Dr. Flavis' assistant after my recovery. The old man died a few years later, and then I was in his position. Honestly wasn't the first time I'd been a doctor. I left the Gorean ship a decade or so later, once they started making noise about how I did not age like the doctor had. I jumped off at a port that was as far away as possible from any human settled planets, and that's where I struck gold. I joined a ship as the first human any being on it had ever met. They had heard of humans, of course. But none had personally traveled this far. My new crew was a diverse bunch. A few Goreans, which I was used to, Mauliks, Greyders, the captain was a Hauplin! They lived almost as long as I have at this point. I made friends among them as their doctor, saw some of them die. But none of them were concerned when I didn't. Until we traveled closer to a human base and got a new crew member. Gnau'chieck was a Ferodean, a species that kind of resembled massive plants. If plants were black as space and had tentacles and a pig-like face. Gnau'chieck was nice, a good addition to the crew who was cautious enough to to end up in my med bay often. But he was also curious, as I found out later. "Doctor, how old are you?" "Older than time itself!" I said grandly. Gnau'chieck laughed like I'd intended, but didn't drop the issue. "It's just, you look really young for a human. Especially a doctor. I know humans take a long time to evolve into one." "I learn fast." I replied, getting a bit nervous. "Yeah, but I asked Captain Daster how long you'd been with the crew, because everyone seems to know you really well. And do you know what he said?" I finally turned fully towards Gnau'chieck, a smile frozen on my face. "What did he say?" "He said you'd been the doctor of the crew 80 years! The human I met on my last ship was 83, and he looked nothing like you." Fuck. "Well, you know what they say about those longer lived species, no real sense of time. I think I've really been here about 5 Earth years." Gnau'chieck's leaf like appendages shook in negative. "He showed me your onbording records." Fuck. "Did you tell anyone else about how wrong the records were? We might need to get the systems checked." I asked casually. His appendages shook again. "No, I figured you might know the issue." I readied the shot that Gnau'chieck had come in for with a laugh, my shoulders relaxing. "No, that sounds like a computer issue, and I don't know the first thing about that." "You're right, of course. I'll let System Control know." He moved to get off my table. "Not before your shot! You don't want to have to schedule another appointment. We're touching down on Calian soon and if you don't get this shot in time you'll be confined to the ship." I said sternly, and Gnau'chieck wilted slightly. "I hate needles." He groused. "I know, most do. But this will only hurt for a second." This wouldn't be the first time I'd killed to keep my secret, either, I thought as I inserted the needle.	"Hey man are you immortal or something?" the humanoid alien with translucent blue skin jested. I know him as Lupe, although his name in his native language is unpronounceable with a human tongue. "Yes," I replied matter of factly. "No, seriously," Lupe's face turned a shade of mint green, indicating he was feeling tense, "We've all been wondering for the past decade or so, but felt it was too rude to ask such a thing." "No worries, Lupe! I was wondering why y'all had not asked about this yet. I really am immortal!" I said cheerfully. "That's amazing!" "Indeed!" The end.
	[WP] You are immortal and have been working on an alien ship for the last 80 years alongside aliens that have a much longer life span than humans. They have begun to notice your lack of aging in your time spent with them.	"Would now be a bad time?" A sigh escapes Tobias Crane as he gets up from the console. Cracking his spine, he responds with the barest hint of intrigue he can manage. "Depends. Do you like being pulled into gravitational wells? No big deal, I don't judge. Everyone's got their kinks-" Teraloe threw his, appendages? (He still hasn't figured out what their practical purpose is supposed to be. They look like the fucked up lovechild of a spoon and a sickle,) into the air. "Stars around, Crane, I just have a question. It's been bugging me for a while." Alright, now this was a tad more interesting. The resident science officer rarely stewed on questions, so this one must have been really out there. Enough so that he actually had to think about asking it. A small blessing, to have escaped it this long, but the wind up time did make Crane a tad... nervous. "Alright," he started cautiously, "hit me with it. We should have a few minutes." Teraloe sighed, (well, spluttered, really. Must be difficult to sigh with a face full of tentacles. Really, what were the evolutionary benefits?) before giving his spiel. "Well, the crew has been... talking. Making some rumors that have caused me to, ah, ponder a very important aspect," He gives a quick glance to the console, squinting his flappy oculor sacs. Crane shivered; that was by far, to him, the most disturbing part of the Anasarum's biology. Their eyes fucking sqeulched when they blink. "of our resident navigator." Tobias took a mental pause. Rumors? About what? How he sometimes takes a few too many Roncholian desserts from the common room? (To be fair to him, they were unfairly delicious. Like eating ambrosia, or an angel. No, actually, scratch that last one, that's fucking weird, Crane.) Before he could ask, though, Teraloe continued. "We have noticed an, irregularity, in your biological process. I believe humans call it, aging?" Tobias puts on an easy smile, ignoring the buzzing, dreadful, icy feeling in his core. "Whad'ya mean, Ter? Aging like a fine wine, if I do say so myself." "Crane, you look almost exactly the same as when you joined this crew in your twenties." Tobias scoffed. "Yeah, and?" Teraloe shook his head. "That was 80 standard galactic years ago, Crane. The average human life-span leads to 95. You would be in your hundreds." The navigator reached over to grab his glass of water from the console, (He really shouldn't be keeping water around important electronics, but he was thirsty.) and took a few agonizingly slow gulps. Teraloe was starting to look extremely uncomfortable with the topic at hand. "What can I say? I work out. Makes me look good for my age." Discomfort forgotten, the science director lets out a hearty guffaw. "Crane, you spend most of your waking hours sitting, normally eating desserts, and watching holo-dramas." He cringed. Thinkiny back on it, maybe he did slack off a little too much since joining this crew. He wasn't going to be able to sell this very well. He shrugged, "Good genes?" A break of laughter from the other room. "Good genes my ass, you look like a stringbean." Tobias groaned, yelling to the other room. "Back off Maralona, not your conversation!" He sighed. There wasn't a way out of the corner he'd backed himself into. So, he decided to bite the bullet. "I don't age." Teraloe looked incredulous. "Excuse me?" Tobias nodded. "Can't die, either. Been stuck like this a few thousand-odd years. Coming to space has been the best thing for me in a while. Earth got really boring and sad after a while." The science officer looked aghast. "Why didn't you say so earlier?" "Why, so I could be experimented on? No thanks. Been there, done that, got the microchip." Teraloe flapped his tentacle mouth in irritation. "No, you dolt, there are plenty of eternal species. We thought you had been replaced by a synthetic!" Tobias laughed, some of the frost melting away. "Really? That was your best guess? Nah, the real answer is I beat a god in a game of jacks." "Really?" "No, but that sounds way more interesting than saying I was born with it."	"Hey man are you immortal or something?" the humanoid alien with translucent blue skin jested. I know him as Lupe, although his name in his native language is unpronounceable with a human tongue. "Yes," I replied matter of factly. "No, seriously," Lupe's face turned a shade of mint green, indicating he was feeling tense, "We've all been wondering for the past decade or so, but felt it was too rude to ask such a thing." "No worries, Lupe! I was wondering why y'all had not asked about this yet. I really am immortal!" I said cheerfully. "That's amazing!" "Indeed!" The end.
	[WP] You are immortal and have been working on an alien ship for the last 80 years alongside aliens that have a much longer life span than humans. They have begun to notice your lack of aging in your time spent with them.	The bowels and intestines of the lowest decks of the ship were the places Fred hated most. Dark, dingy and always had a lasting smell of whatever Jixqa's had for lunch. This truly was the worst part of space travel, at least so Fred thought. Since his early day's, approximately eighty years ago, Fred had dreamt of exploring the galaxy in his own ship. The neverending sights to be seen and places to find. Fred made himself a promise when he left Earth, to go into the unknown, and never come back. Little did he know the unknown would be a long-standing service on Captain Il'ops ship as an engineer. He turned on his flashlight as he struggled to see the door to the plasma room in the dark. The Ion couplers had come loose once again, and as an expendable engineer, it was his job to come down here and fix them again. Finally, he found it, the great metal bulkhead to the plasma room. For the third time this week, he grabbed the handle, then gave it a good twist until he felt the door moved. It gave off a loud creak as it opened, shaking the floor beneath him. He stepped it inside, feeling his pockets for his multi-tool. The lights turned on instantly and unexpectedly. "SUPRISE!" Fred jumped in shock, jumping his multitool. Jixqa, Zuntba and Treevie greeted him excitedly. Each of them had party hats on and tinsel dropped over there long forboding tentacles. A cake -- well a good attempt at a cake -- sat between them, full of candles. "Happy Birthday pal! The big 100. Must be feeling pretty adult by now!" Zuntba said, beckoning Fred to take a seat with a tentacle. These three Aliens were the other engineers on board. A nice gesture Fred thought as he took his place in the circle. "Guys, you shouldn't have." Fred was genuinely happy. Ever since he was forced and threatened to join the crew he felt like an outsider. For decades he tried to form relationships, friends, but to no avail. For them to bake a cake meant they must honestly appreciate him. It was hard being the only human being in twenty-six thousand light-years. However, in truth, he didn't even know he was human, though this might be his one-hundredth birthday he had the same twenty-year-old body he left Earth with. He never understood why, but he certainly didn't want to tell his hosts about the embarrassing problem. The Aliens, Grentians, spent all their days travelling the universes feeding of other beings and absorbing their life force. Fred was only alive due to his poor taste -- they nibbled his little finger once. But, if they found out he was immortal, they'd be queuing up around the deck to have a slice of him. Treevie cut the cake and dished it out, a large smile beamed across his face as he stared longingly into the cake. He slowly opened his mouth, dislocated his jaw so he could fit it all in. Zuntba joined in with him. "You must be feeling like an adult now," Jixqa said. "Oh, I've definitely matured these last few decades. No longer a child now!" Fred replied, cheerfull dishing into his birthday cake. They had substituted the eggs with motor oil, but it tasted just fine. "How long did you say humans last for again? Swear you said it was only a thousand years. Couldn't imagine a life that short," "Well, each to there owns I guess. Now I must really fix those couplers. Thank you for the cake,' Fred lick his fingers and got up, eager to get the conversation. "They're not broken. We faked the report to get you down here." Jixqa said. He picked up the last piece of cake, gradually he bought it to his mount and chewed it up. Taking care for it not to fall apart in his tight tentacle grip. Fred was getting nervous now. This whole charade was out of character for them. Normally tease him for his 'puny body proportions'. "I'm going to tell you story, Fred. Please, sit down." Fred did as he was instructed. "I'm the chief engineer on this ship. As such, I like to pride myself on knowing every sub-system, circuit and program that is on it. Now, I have heard other Grentians call her an old pile of junk, I've heard others say its time to scrap her. She's an old ship Fred, always breaking under the strain of the vacuum of space. You understand what I'm saying?" Fred gulped. The high of the surprise had worn off now, Jixqa was back to his old creepy self. "I follow you," he said quietly. "Good to know you're human ears are listening. In a way, this ship is a lot like us. Old and always breaking. What happens when start to break?" "I don't know," "We fix ourselves, Fred. We fix ourselves. Through the consumption of inferior life forms, just as this ship hear gets fix with new younger parts." Fred was trying to control his panic, to keep up his facade. But the question of whether Jixqu knew about his ageing bugged him. "But you're human. I don't expect you to understand. You've done a great service for this ship." "Thank you." "You're most welcome. Please have another piece of cake." He pointed towards the bit of cake left, Fred shook his head. Any more motor oil would turn him sick. "Not hungry? That's a shame. I was the other day. Down on that planet with the green sky, and you'd never guess what I found." "What?" "Oh go on, guess for me," Jixqa said with an encouraging smile. "Love?" Fred said reluctantly. The three Grentians burst out in a long episode of laughter. Fred began to join in but they suddenly stopped. "No, a Human. I found them in the Ivine prison." His heart dropped. Jixqa knew, he was sure of it, any moment now he'd be dead. He couldn't escape, he'd have to play it off. "Another human? This far out?" "Yes, and sweet and succulent one at that. I never learnt her name, unfortunately. But I did manage to sneak a peek at her prisoner file and something stood out to me, something peculiar..." "...what was that?" There was a long paused as Jixqa consolidated his thoughts. Fred could see saliva dripping down from his large-mouth. "Funny thing was, she tasted different to you, remember that time I nibbled your finger? I looked at the leftovers, she was all grey and frail. One might describe her as old." Fred was sweating badly now, he knew they could see it. This was it, his journey over. "I saw on her file her age. It said seventy-three, Fred. That's younger than you." "Yes," Fred said quietly, looking at the floor hoping it wouldn't hurt. He could feel the three of them stand up around him. "Why?" Fred stayed silent, holding back the tears. "Why?" Jixqa repeated again. "Why what?" Fred said, not eager to play their game. "Why did you not tell us that women age faster in your species. It makes so much sense now! All that sexual frustration you have! Must be horrible! Now, look at you, sweating away, like I was going to say something bad. You puny humans truly are nervous weaklings. See you around bipedal." And with that, they left. Fred was paralyzed as he processed his word. He needed to leave. Now. .......... Check out my other appalling works at [r/warburton\_writes](https://www.reddit.com/r/warburton_writes/)	"Shouldn't you be dead?" Glubox muttered, his mouth tendrils spitting out a purple liquid with each word, it was a disgusting sight, but like watching someone try to eat spaghetti with their bare hands, you eventually adjusted to the trauma." "And a good morning to you to Glubox. You know, it's usually not polite to greet people like that, Got me kicked out of a nursing home once." Pete said between the cranking of gears, wiping his brow as he took a break from the ship's engine, turning to face the weird creature before him. His tall lanky friend was a gunslinger, his lanky purple body might not seem fit to wield guns, but well, when you had six arms, it was hard to wield any other weapon. After all, if he tried using swords he would end up removing at least three of those arms. "Sorry Pete, it's just, we have been friends for what? Eighty years? maybe even longer and you are a humanoid right? we just thought that you would have been well, dead by now. We were planning on getting a new human when you passed, you know because we would be grieving, but if you are still alive and healthy, well we want to know your secret." "You were going to replace me? I'm not some pet that you get a new one of when I die. Do you think I'm a goldfish or something? You just sneak another human into the engine room and tell everyone it's the same human... and seriously Glubox, if you say that all humans are alike, I will beat you with this wrench." Pete raised his wrench, menacingly waving it towards the alien, the alien seemed to take the threat seriously thinking carefully about his next words. "Ok, perhaps that was a little insensitive, but we really do want to know, what is your secret? Are you a robot? You don't seem to set off any metal detectors, so that seems unlikely." Glubox thought it over, unable to piece together the mystery. "We?" Pete lowered his wrench, placing it to the side. "And who is we?" Pete questioned causing the alien to snap to attention. "Well, she said not to say," Glubox answered, doing his best to maintain their secrecy, yet that made the answer quite obvious. "Of course Galactis wants to know. That woman is a ball of gossip and a ball..." Galactis was a very spherical alien, kind of like a giant volleyball that was pink and had a sassy personality. Only having one small eye with a comically large eyelash, her winks generating enough wind to push you back slightly. She wasn't a popular flirt because of that. "Tell that round pink ball that it's none of her bloody business!" "But, I kind of want to know too, plus people are getting suspicious, It's not good if we can't trust you." Glubox tried to hide his curiosity behind concern, wanting to give off the illusion that he wanted to know simply for his friend's wellbeing. Pete sighed, the aliens plan obvious, but it did hold some truth, they would soon go suspicious and he much preferred this sort of probing to the other kind.... "Look, every few years, a human is born that has an extended life. It's said to be due to... due to?" Pete quickly had to pull some excuse out of thin air. "Because of stars? It's said that every so often a child that was born near a shooting star would get an extended life. Strange right?" Glubox didn't seem overly convinced, yet he didn't know enough about humans to dispute the claim no one on the ship did, so with a little reluctance, he accepted the excuse, giving his friend a nod. "Thanks and um, if it makes you feel better.... I am happy we get to keep you as our human, I might not like another human as much." Glubox said before wandering off to continue working. "Love you too..." Pete responded, making sure the sarcasm was evident before returning to work. {If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read}
	[WP] You can see the future, but you can't coherently communicate about it. Distressing, given the world will end next Tuesday.	They all came to the oracle, sitting peacefully on a mountain in a shrine. This shrine was air conditioned and had tv of course, she has a life too. The oracle could predict the future in this small town in North Carolina. There’s a problem with the method though. The oracle is mute. How do they get around this problem? Me of course! I’m the translator, who gets the oracle to choose photos to show. When I saw a pictures of a UFO, 2, S, A Day, and an explosion, I was puzzled. “There’s going to be a new nuke and a UFO sighting in the span of two days? “ I said. The oracle slapped her forehead. I was still figuring it out until Tuesday. The oracle looked concerned and panicked. She was showing me pictures of random things like the Air Force. “You want to fly a plane in USA?” I said, thoroughly baffled. The oracle made an X with her hands. Five hours later, the oracle was making a grave. I said “There’s ghosts coming? Wait a minute! Did you mean Tuesday’s the end of the wo-“	''WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!'' I screamed while throwing the coffee at the old man. Unamused, he muttered ''Yeah, some before others'' before walking out in haste. Also unamused was my manager, who asked me to explain myself. Again. Like always when I'm panicking, I grab a scrap of paper and start drawing random symbols, before my manager advises me to take the next few days off. ''See you next Tuesday I guess'' he said before running off to ease a dissatisfied customer, annoyed that they had almost stepped onto a broken coffee cup. There is just one problem with that, mate. The world is going to end next Tuesday. Obviously, no-one is gonna believe me. In fact, I would be surprised if they all did - Imagine, BBC Breaking News: 'Manchester woman correctly predicts world is gonna end - Everyone panic now! ' Hundreds of people since the time of Jesus (and probably before that I suppose) have predicted the end of the world, and all of them were wrong. But what they didn't have back in the time of Jesus, were rubbish bins made out of black holes. But next Tuesday, scientists in Switzerland are gonna make a black hole, don't ask me how, to use as a rubbish bin. Sounds like a good idea, doesn't it? All our rubbish problems solved! But this black hole will be hungry, very hungry, and start eating things that aren't rubbish. Scientists will try to kill the black hole, but will fail. Mr Black Hole will be very angry now, and so by half 12 on Tuesday, planet Earth will cease to exist! Fucking annoying that, I'm going to die at work. Fuck sake! But how do I know this, you might ask, if the fucking scientists don't even have a clue! Well, ever since I was a little girl, I could 'see' a bit into the future, I managed to save my best friend from being hit from a speeding car that way. Over the years, I practised this secret ability, until at the age of 27, I could now see a couple of weeks into the future. My boyfriend keeps wanting me to bet on the footie, but I don't want to be seen as suspicious, and possibly captured and taken somewhere to be abused for my foresight. And that's how I know the world is going to end next Tuesday. I've tried emailing the scientists hundreds of times, only for them to keep saying back to me that they have made lots of black holes already. Yeah, the size of atoms. Not the size of a car that the Tuesday black hole will be. My mind goes funny when I try to tell them precisely how everything will play out, I start scribbling random symbols everywhere. But I have a plan! My boyfriend is supposed to be driving down to Paris this weekend with his mum. Unfortunately, she will have an accident in 2 minutes that'll prevent her from going, bless her. As the hotel has already been booked, he will instead ask me to come to Paris, for a romantic weekend together, how sweet. So, we'll have Friday afternoon and Saturday in Paris, but Sunday? I'm gonna figure out a way to get him to drive to Switzerland, so I can stop those scientists from making the black hole! The world is going to call me a hero! I laid in bed, getting comfortable and ready to watch some Netflix, phone in hand ready to receive that call that'll send me to Paris and then off to save the world. I went to the BBC News site hoping for something about the scientists realising some sense and calling off the test. Nope, in fact, something unexpected was breaking news. 'MANCHESTER QUARANTINED UNTIL TUESDAY DUE TO SMELLY TEETH VIRUS' Fuck. I didn't see that coming. Actually yes I did. I'm an idiot and the world is fucked.
	[WP] You can see the future, but you can't coherently communicate about it. Distressing, given the world will end next Tuesday.	"Wendy, I have something to tell you." She gave me a glance from the book she was reading. "What is it, love?" I opened my mouth. And closed it. I opened it again. It felt like molasses - like the words were all sticky and stuck, as if I was chewing my way out of something, as if I was trying to talk with my mouth full, as if I - Wendy was looking at me like I was trying to throw up. "You okay Sophie?" She asked. I stopped. I gave up with a sigh. I wanted to tell her. The world was going to end next Tuesday, next week, in about four days! I wanted to, just this once, and I tried, I tried so hard but I knew how it ended. It never came out, for a reason or another. It felt like a curse. Even seeing the future felt like a curse, in a sense. I could know about the future, but I couldn't do anything to stop it. I got to see the terrorist attacks. I got to see the crash of '22. I got to see Wendy get kicked out of her home. I got to see it happen twice. And twice over it all left me tongue-tied; I never really could talk about it, even afterwards. I never figured out why it happened. It just did. Wendy was looking at me strangely. "I-" I tried. I tried! "Is it one of your intuition things?" She asked. I nodded, well, I tried to nod, but in the end I couldn't, and I was left doing some weird movements in front of the woman I loved. "I trust you." Wendy went on, "I owe you that, after all." "What? Why?" "Oh please," she rolled her eyes. "Hey Wendy, whatever happens you can always crash at my place! Hey Wendy, don't go to that concert! Hey Wendy, I know things are going great at work, but you should start looking for something else!" She smirked. I felt a bit red in the face. I did all those things, didn't I? She was right. "You've always helped me so much," she concluded, simply, before turning fully toward me. "So, what is it? What do you want to do?" I opened my mouth again, and then stopped. But this time, it wasn't because of the curse - what could she do? What could I do? Even if I could communicate clearly about it ... what then? Life wasn't an action movie, and there was no way for me to call the president, or stop the wars, or the fires, or anything else, especially not in four days. I was just a twenty-something still trying to figure things out, living in a tiny flat with her girlfriend. I thought about it for a while. "You've always wanted to visit Spain, didn't you?" The words flowed out of my mouth with a lot more ease this time. "I think we should go. Like now. Spain's a great place for a long weekend! Let's get plane tickets." Wendy blanched. "I, uh, with what money?" I shrugged. "Let's just put it on a credit card. We'll just, pay it back, or something." "Honey, I don't think it's a good idea-" I took her hands in mine, getting myself more and more excited about the idea. "No, no, I promise it'll be great! We'll see Barcelona, the parks, that strange house of bones you like, and we'll get drinks on the beach, we'll watch the sunset. You're going to love it, I know!" I calmed down a little, still smiling from ear to ear. "Trust me. Please." I couldn't really say more than that. "I do. We'll go." She agreed, in a quiet whisper, and then she smiled at me. "I love you so much." I said.	&#x200B; I dreamed that the world would end in two days. Just silly dreams. I thought this at the beginning. But since I started dreaming about events that happen in the future, everything happened like my dreams, they never failed, and this has been happening more than 5 years. I got rich with this story. I made a lot of money on sports betting by guessing who would win the championships based on the lucid dreams. Sometimes I needed to fail to avoid creating suspicions. But last night was different. A terrible prevision. The world will end after tomorrow. Following my dream, the earth will be destroyed by aliens. A strange mobile space station and galactic superweapon outside the solar system that can blast superleasers capable of destroying the entire Earth. I cannot explain it but I need to alert the authorities. Explaining every detail of the dream and maybe they can believe my story and detect the enemy space station avoid the tragedy. But there is a problem. I don’t know why but I forgot to speak English correctly and now I can only speak or write a type of gibberish that I don't even understand. I try to call governments, newspapers, television channels but nothing. “ What language are you speaking? “ “ Sorry I need to hang up. “ Are the answers. I cannot communicate. Mysteriously I can only speak in a foreign language that I don’t know the origin. I need to find another way to save the world. &#x200B; Note: translated in 2025 from the Galactic Standard Aurabesh by the Rebels
	[WP] As the great dragon searched for ways to further grow its hoard of treasures, it realized there was a way for people to voluntarily give it more treasures: open a museum.	Ignas Goldteeth had everything in the world. Yet, as he strolled through his albino capybaras exhibit and then past his mountain of diamond snow globes, he couldn't help but furrow his scaled brows, his silver embroidered talons tapping on the marbled ground. Of course. How can he think his museum complete without chinchillas. Ignas Goldteeth stilled his talons and the servant boy behind him stood up straight, quill and scroll at the ready. "Tell the next king to bring chinchilllas. Not the small ones. At least as big as the pgymy tigers. Small ones are shit." "Yes, sir." the servant replied. "Put them with the double-horned unicorns." the dragon continued then paused, "Actually, no. That would be a monochromatic artistic crime. Let's not be savages here." He chuckled and the floors shook slightly. The servant answered with furious crossing out with his quill. Ignas Goldteeth mused, "I think they will juxtapose nicely with the greyed-gold of the once-holy grails. Picture it, boy. A monument to the impossible pursuit of purity." The dragon closed his eyes and raised his claw like a conductor directing shadows. Silence overtook the room as he imagined the applause. "I think they will look best with open moonlight." the servant said quietly behind him. The dragon's brows furrowed again as he turned around, his erect head looming over the now quivering boy. "You must be new." the dragon said with a faint growl. The servant was even quieter now, "Yes, Ignas Goldtooth, sir, I-" "Gold. Teeth." Ignas Goldteeth said pointedly and he opened his mouth in a vicious smile. Rows of gold studded fangs stared back at the servant. "But do go on. Moonlight you say." the dragon said as he sat back. "Ignas Goldteeth, sir, I-I just think the simple moon is the most beautiful thing in the world," the servant stammered. The dragon stood. "You think the plain old moon is more beatiful than my museum?" the dragon bellowed as he gestured over his magnificient hoarde. The servant was a silent, shaking mouse but as Ignas Goldteeth surveyed his treasures- at the legendary swords that he once collected with pride and the exotic wines that once brought him joy- he knew it to be the truth. The moon. Shinier and bigger than any...chinchilla. And so he decreed to his servant, "Let it be known to all the kingdoms. Bring me the moon and I will give them anything, everything from my collection." For Ignas Goldteeth shall have everything in the world.	"Have a drink?" the guild master said waving his hand to one of the waitresses. "No thanks" Eadmund replied, "I never drink while on a job." A lie of course when he raided the museum a day ago he had been drunk, probably still was a little now. "Oh ok" the guild master replied "Another tankard for me darling," he said to the waitress giving her a coin. Eadmund waited until the waitress was gone and leaned in a bit, "so I have what you were looking for" "Oh great," the guild master said cheerfully "Its-" he faltered as he saw Eadmund look. "It's really hard to find " he continued demure."There are no more white gold mines left." "Yes" Eadmund said "you were lucky I was passing by these parts and heard you were looking for it" "Might I inquire where you got it?" the guild master asked. Eadmund briefly considered lying but he wasn't staying here and this idiot could very well spill the origin to the wrong people if he didn't know. "Well do you know the little museum in Whitrun?" Eadmund whispered The guild master's face turned blank. "Well, let's just say you shouldn't try to visit that." Eadmund said looking smug. "What-" the guild master started "what was the name of the museum" "Dragonshoard or something silly like that" Eadmund said snorting, regretting he hadn't taken up to offer for a drink. The guilds master face changed to one of pure horror. "Now now" Eadmund said, "you know what I am you cant-" "That's not it" the guild master interrupted him "That's-" he stopped and looked around "I need to get away from here" not to anyone in particular. Eadmund took the guild master arm and forced him back into his seat he had gotten out of. "Not until I get whats owned" putting as much menace in his voice as he could. "You don't understand," the guild master said struggling to get out of his grip, surprisingly strong. "that museum-" A huge crash came from above, stone and timber flew around knocking Eadmund from his seat. As he looked up he could see a huge silver dragons head poking through the hole in the roof. "I SMELL A THIEF" the dragon roared.
	[WP] For 7 generations your family has been cursed. The first born dies before their 18th birthday. Yours is in three days and recently you've been getting nightly visits from... something.	I thrash in my bed, sweat sticking to my forehead. The closer I’ve gotten to my 18th birthday, the more frequent nightmares have been. I pant in a few deep breaths. Wind trickles into the room from an open window, fluttering the curtain. The sweat feels like it’s turning to ice. “Are you back so soon?” I ask, slowly making it to my feet. My legs feel weak beneath me as I make my way to the window. “Hello, darling.” Jaxon answers, sweeping a piece of hair that was plastered to my face with sweat behind my ear. I sigh. “I’ve missed you.” “Yeah, I miss you too. But Catherine, you have to listen to me. You have to make it to your eighteenth birthday.” He answers, putting a hand on my cheek. I sigh. “Why? I love you and I miss you.” “I miss you too, but you have your life ahead of you.” “But you are my life.” I whisper back. Jaxon laughs. “No, I’m not.” “But-“ “I love you, Catherine. Don’t ever change.” “What do you mean? You’ll still come to visit me, won’t you?” He shakes his head. “No, I can’t.” “Why?” “I love you Catherine.” “Wait! Jaxon!” I lunge toward him, but he disappears. I climb out the window, standing on the roof of my house before taking a deep breath. Hang on Jaxon, I’m coming. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I take a step and let myself fall.	Dear Anne, I am writing this on the front. I am sorry I did not tell you my plans. My father may have said something because he saw me leave, and I know as he looked at me that he accepted my decision; but it was not in my heart to say anything to anyone else, for I know no one else will understand. I am not some foolish brash youth, and you should know me well enough to not dare think so. Mother will think it is the furor of a nation that has come to take her son away. Please be kind to her and do not dissuade her from this notion. I care not for a country but for the people there. I do not know if I believe in a King that would not twice look at me, but I do believe in duty and I know what that means. I can feel the weight of my every Uncle and Aunt on my shoulders. I can hear them calling in the shells that pound the trenches. Every night I can see them hovering at my feet, waiting for me to join them. I hope ~~y~~ they are proud of me. Sometimes the men here whisper that we are cursed, but we are cursed at home as well. I wish you could see how wet it is here. There is naught but drought for years at home, yet now I am in a more barren place yet and no part of me has been dry for days. More than anything else this tells me I am right. It has been my family's misfortune for seven generations to toil on that land and each time there have been too many mouths to feed. I know you care not for our superstitions as you call them, but I am three days from my eighteenth now and it is my turn. We will make a charge soon and then I will be the one visiting the children of my siblings in the night. There is always a war for those such as us. ~~I lo~~ Wish me well in your prayers for I do not imagine I shall be seeing you again. You ~~should~~ will marry some other and be happy. Yours forever, Your William
	[WP] For 7 generations your family has been cursed. The first born dies before their 18th birthday. Yours is in three days and recently you've been getting nightly visits from... something.	I thrash in my bed, sweat sticking to my forehead. The closer I’ve gotten to my 18th birthday, the more frequent nightmares have been. I pant in a few deep breaths. Wind trickles into the room from an open window, fluttering the curtain. The sweat feels like it’s turning to ice. “Are you back so soon?” I ask, slowly making it to my feet. My legs feel weak beneath me as I make my way to the window. “Hello, darling.” Jaxon answers, sweeping a piece of hair that was plastered to my face with sweat behind my ear. I sigh. “I’ve missed you.” “Yeah, I miss you too. But Catherine, you have to listen to me. You have to make it to your eighteenth birthday.” He answers, putting a hand on my cheek. I sigh. “Why? I love you and I miss you.” “I miss you too, but you have your life ahead of you.” “But you are my life.” I whisper back. Jaxon laughs. “No, I’m not.” “But-“ “I love you, Catherine. Don’t ever change.” “What do you mean? You’ll still come to visit me, won’t you?” He shakes his head. “No, I can’t.” “Why?” “I love you Catherine.” “Wait! Jaxon!” I lunge toward him, but he disappears. I climb out the window, standing on the roof of my house before taking a deep breath. Hang on Jaxon, I’m coming. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I take a step and let myself fall.	I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, shivering. The covers have fallen to the foot of the bed yet again. Do I really toss and turn that much in my sleep? Anyway, I maneuver my way toward the edge of the bed and reach down to grab the comforter. For a second I think I see something move in the doorway, but as my eyes adjust to the dark, my mind may just be playing tricks on me. I haven’t been sleeping well lately... The curse has been weighing heavy on me as my birthday approaches, and every night the same thing. -cold sweat, comforter on the floor, and awoken by something or someone in the middle of the night. I grab the comforter and pull it back onto the bed, shake it out and spread it accordingly, and tuck myself back in. With a sigh, I close my eyes and try to get back to sleep. However, just as I am beginning to doze off, I feel the slightest tug, and open my eyes to see my comforter slowly being pulled toward the foot of the bed....
	[WP] It is judgement day, but instead of God judging humanity, humanity is judging God to see if he did a good job creating the universe.	"Alright, what've you got?" God shook in place as if psyching himself for a boxing match. Today was Judgement Day, the day He was to be judged by all mankind. "Come on, you can't make me wait forever," He fluttered his head and swung quick jabs into the air. God was fully expecting a reckoning. All of mankind stood before him. They had just experienced their doomsday. They were ready to vent all their frustrations upon their maker. Finally one of the humans broke from the pack to speak first. "T'was alright chyeah." God was understandably taken aback somewhat. "Alright?" He still didn't let his guard down; He was still ready to box. The man looked behind himself to make sure everyone else agreed. "T'wern't all 'at bad, y'know. It was alright. Don't beat yerself up about'it 'er anythin'." God could see anything coming, but he couldn't quite see this. "Well hold on now Brian Fowl of Benllech. What are you getting at, exactly? 'T'wernt all at bad' you say. What about all the plagues, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and whatnot?" Brian Fowl, the man in the front quickly convened with several others and then returned to the front. "Well the others 'an I sort'of... acknowledge," he verified with others behind him to make sure he was using the correct wording, "we acknowledge that we... well... we sort'a bollixed it all on our own in the end. Y'know... with the wars n'stuff. None'o yer disasters held a candle to what we did to ourselves, y'know." God finally let down his guard. Never before had humanity accepted their own faults. "So we all wanna say that ya did alright for yer first attempt," reassured Brian with an optimistic glimmer in his eye. "It'll go mor smoothly on yer second try. Chin up." God chuckled. This had been God's 12th attempt.	The Lord Almighty cracks His knuckles, breaking back in the fleshy body which had been gathering dust for the past four thousand years. It was time to return to Earth once more to judge the wicked and uplift His children to Heaven. Heaven was usually quite quiet, once somebody had met God Himself, the novelty quickly wore off and they went off to the Sex and Milkshake Cloud to spend the rest of eternity. The combined solitude which He was used to with the unfamiliarity with of having flesh sent Him reeling when a hand touched his shoulder. Wʜᴀᴛ ɪs ᴛʜɪs? A small woman in the common attire of humanity in the 31st century speaks gently in return, "Oh, hi, God, sir. Just a human, you know, from down there." She giggles nervously. "This Judgement Day thing, we were wondering if you could, you know, just give it a few days?" Dᴇʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ? Wʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ ɪs ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ Mᴇ? "Well, sir, it's just Earth day, so it would be kind of awkward if you destroyed the place today. Everyone's back on Earth as like kind of a holiday and it's such a pain to get interdimensional train tickets on short notice, you know?" Iɴᴛᴇʀ-ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛs? "Oh, yeah. That realm of existence is great and all, and we're really glad you created us, but we mostly chill in the 27th dimension now." Tᴡᴇɴᴛʏ Sᴇᴠᴇɴᴛʜ? Bᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴏɴʟʏ ғɪᴠᴇ!
	[WP] Aliens finally arrived to Earth. Unlike movies and TV shows however, they did not come to enslave us or to harvest our resources. They came only to spread the good news of their lord and savior.	When the large rectangle of a ship first opened its impressively large hatch, we all assumed it meant our doom. Surely some kind of attack craft would descend from the crack in the sky. Or maybe it would be targeted missiles to strategically weaken us, in order to weaken whatever paltry resistance we might be able to scramble. Perhaps it would be some kind of death ray that would swiftly and mercifully liquefy our now insignificant planet. Truly, I can say that nobody expected to be greeted by an obscenely large painting. And of a cat, no less. Never before and never since then had the talking heads on the news channels been so utterly shut up. For long moments it felt like not a word was uttered. The world strangely united under the old 'so quiet you could hear a pin drop' line, as we all stood there mouth agape at the piece of art in the sky. After the shock wore off, my mind returned to me with yet one more surprise. Wait, that looks a lot like Mr. Buttons. Almost on cue, the air buzzed with the foreign tongue coming from the alien vessel. Thankfully, these aliens had done some homework and had prepared the necessary translations that our world required. &nbsp; "People of Terra, we greet you. We have descended upon you today not to conquer, or to threaten, or to enslave. Rather we have come to enlighten you with a glory you have already received. Many of your 'years' ago, our guide, our leader, our savior decided to make your world their home. It was to bless you, and to prepare you for your journey into the heavens. To the one whom our savior belongs we now welcome as an ambassador to the cosmos. Through them humanity shall know what lies beyond." &nbsp; Many moments of thoughtful contemplation followed. There was no reason to doubt what the aliens were saying - it was almost too strange not to believe. But to think that some schmuck was going to become some kind of cosmic ambassador because he owned a cat seemed far too silly. My thoughts were broken by a clang from the kitchen, followed by a quiet cry and frantic claws trying to find their fraction. As I looked over I saw Mr. Buttons slide past the kitchen door, now wearing his food bowl as a hat. I couldn't help but laugh at the sight. I got up and made my way to the kitchen, finding a cat splayed out on all fours having given up the effort to dislodge his helmet. I picked him up and plopped off the bowl. "You hungry, boy?" "Meow!" Gosh, he really does look like the painting... I thought as I poured his food into the bowl. With the sounds of contented munching behind me I made my way to the computer and pulled up some photos. I compared them to the captured images of the painting suspended in the sky. It took much self-convincing, but soon I was sure. Mr. Buttons was the savior, whatever that meant. I sat there scratching my head while my old friend hopped up onto my lap in search of his traditional after meal belly rubs. My muscle memory took over and my mind disappeared into the rhythm of his purrs. I wasn't sure who to tell, or if I should do it at all. I didn't particularly want to be an ambassador, especially to space. I rather enjoyed my life, and I very much enjoyed my cat. I wasn't keen on losing either, but this had now spiraled well outside of my little corner of the universe. "Why'd you have to be so damn cute?" I said, playfully petting my calico friend. His purrs grew louder. I laughed some more. Minutes turned into hours as I contemplated the next action. I knew I had to tell someone, but it was hard to know who to trust. Surely any government would interfere and seize Mr. Buttons in order to make their own ambassador. I couldn't contact the news agencies for similar reasons. I didn't know how to get the attention of the aliens. But eventually I realized that I already possessed the most important piece of this puzzle, and it was in my lap. "What do I do, Mr. Buttons?" I said, sighing. He stood up quickly, and turned his focus to my computer screen. I wasn't sure what he wanted, but I slowly scrolled through the pictures I had up in case they held the key. Eventually I came to one that showed the painting of my friend, and he meowed loudly. I stopped there and he hopped onto my desk before pawing at the picture several times. From a nearby television I could hear. "It...it looks like the ship and the painting are moving. Yes, we have movement!" The chaos of the newsman behind me intensified as Mr. Buttons hopped to the floor. He got about halfway to the door before turning around to look at me. I got up and followed him the rest of the way to the front door. Upon opening it, he sat himself on the top of the steps, and I joined him shortly thereafter. He climbed once more into my lap, and there we sat, waiting. Not long after I could see the rectangular ship and the slightly smaller rectangle beneath it. Slowly, they were headed in our direction. Helicopters accompanied the sight on either side. It was an impressive spectacle, to say the least. And it felt strange to be the only human in existence knowing where it was headed. The shadow of the ship soon enveloped my neighborhood. The whirring blades above made a deafening noise, to the point where it became hard to hear myself think. All I knew was that I was afraid. I didn't know what would come next. Would I be sucked up into the ship above? Would I be sniped down by some government? Would Mr. Buttons be hurt? It all became too much to bear. I held my cat close, and took comfort in the familiar vibration of his purrs. Mr. Buttons then hopped off my lap, and sat next to me on the stoop. He stared up at me lovingly, and I bent down to pet his head. But this time, he beat me to the punch. He placed his paw upon my forehead, and in an instant all went silent. No whirring blades, no blaring news reporters, not even my own thoughts. Just perfect, beautiful silence. All around me everything started to shine bright as gold, and I knew that in some way I was being raptured. I was leaving this world behind. I looked into Mr. Buttons' eyes, and he stared right back. Without opening his mouth, yet in perfect English and in a voice that sounded distinctly his own, he spoke to me. "Don't worry, you are safe, and that you will always be. Now, come with me, and I'll show you what lies beyond." &nbsp; _______________ r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested.	"Hello human friend! Have you heard the good word of Klar'nark the Most High, today?" Jim Burrows couldn't hide his distaste for the two small, gray aliens standing on his doorstep. "Oh goddamnit, not again... Janet? The Klar'nark's Witnesses are back again!" Naturally, humanity feared destruction or enslavement when confronted with the arrival of alien life on Earth, but those fears were quickly realized to be entirely misplaced. The aliens were friendly, well dressed, clean cut, and exceedingly polite. But they were not shy about sharing their beliefs with humanity. It turned out they were here on a religious mission, and they did not like taking no for an answer. Put politely, they were endlessly persistent. Put plainly, they were annoying as hell. His wife stepped out from the kitchen. "Well don't be rude, Jimmy! Invite 'em on in." Jimmy's brow furrowed in confusion. "What? Why on Earth would we wanna encourage them to-" "Thank you, human female friend!" the lead alien said as he quickly stepped past Jimmy and into the house. The second followed by ducking under Jimmy's legs, which did little to quell his growing resentment toward them. "Introductions are to be made as it is the time for introduction. I am Belub, and this is my brother-sister in Klar'nark, Melub." Jimmy flopped down on the couch with a sigh, if he had to listen to their mumbo-jumbo, he was at least going to be comfortable while they talked at him for an hour. "Are y'all uh, brother-sister's by blood as well as religion? From the same family I mean?" Belub scoffed. "No sir, we are from entire different star systems and are of entirely differing racial backgrounds!" "Huh, coulda fooled me," Jimmy said as he cracked open a beer. "You two look pretty identical. I mighta even thought twins." "Racist..." Melub muttered. "Now, Melub," Belub began, "do not assume such things, he is merely ignorant. And we know that ignorance is no sin. Ignorance is rather a scourge that is to be defeated by knowledge. Much like the knowledge of the good news of our lord and savior! Which we must also share with our new human friend here." "Oh Christ, here we go. Look we got all the religion we want, alright? So, no offense but- "Oh Jimmy, just hear them out!" Janet said as she sat down on the couch next to him. "Hear em out? Why? They just show up randomly on people's doorsteps and start preaching at 'em for hours on end when no one-" "Pardon me, friend human," Belub interjected. "I must correct the record of accuracy accurately. We did not come to your home to pester you, we came because we were invited." "Invited?" Jimmy scoffed. "Then you got the wronnnnng house buddy. No one here invited you." "Jim?" Janet said quietly. "I- I invited them." "What? Why would you-" Belub stepped forward and took Janet's hand, helping her to her feet. "Sister Janet has seen the light of the Klar and agreed to live by the code of Nark, Klar'nark be praised!" "Praise be to Klar'nark," Janet and Belub repeated immediately. Jim was genuinely dumbfounded. "Wha- I- Jan, this is a really awful joke. I mean, you don't actually-" Belub and Melub raised their hands, displaying the interlocking circular symbol of their religion branded permanently on each of them. As they held them out for several seconds longer, they began to glow brightly. "Join us in the light, brother!" they said in unison. Jimmy's jaw dropped as Janet tentatively raised her own hand, finally displaying the same glowing symbol on branded on her own palm. ___ ___ Thanks for reading. More of my stories can be found over on r/Ryter if you'd care to check them out.
	[WP] You work customer support... for wizards.	Before starting her shift Kira said a short prayer to Felix the Blue, god of magic. She was fortunate to work so close to her home, she lived in the commuter town of Backstage and her office was one of the few inside it's borders. Now it was time to log into the phone and start taking calls. "Good morning, Arcane Magic helpline, dimension fourteen. How may I help you?" Kira provided the standard opening. "Yes, hello, is this the correct line for registering a transfer from dimension nine and also why is the sky currently green?" "No, this is the number for existing customers having issues with spells. The sky is green because you are in an area with dangerously low mana. Please do not try to cast any spells as you will not be covered. Transferring you to dimensional registration now." Kira said without waiting for a response. She moved on to her next call and gave her greeting. "Hi, Kira, I think your the only one that actually works there, but since you always insist on it my name is Donald the Noble and my passphrase is Fireball Spell." "Thank you Donald, your passphrase is confirmed. There are other employees here but my extension number was the switchboard when you purchased your plan. The new one is (insert phone number here). How can I help you today?" "As you know I have the pyromancer subscription plan, but the cinnamon you sent me doesn't seem to be working as the material element of my spell. I have done some basic troubleshooting and the sky is orange, which I understand means that this is a high mana area. I have consulted a pronunciation guide on the verbal component and the basic spell of light I was trying to cast has no somatic component anyway." "Ah yes, Donald's cinnamon glow-stick, devised in cooperation with our dedicated team. Do you have the batch number for the cinnamon?" "Certainly, its 542E73Q." Kira entered the number into the computer "Ah, here's the problem, the batch was grown under a violet sky so can only be used in red sky or higher areas. Since your policy level guarantees blue sky or better cinnamon I'm afraid all I can do is escalate the call to the claims department as I'm not authorised to deal with errors of this nature myself. Transferring you now." She then moved on to the next call. " Yes, this is Andy from dimension zero. I need to register a transfer of ownership of a wand of lightning from Julie of dimension thirteen. Can I add her to the call? I understand we'll both need to undergo security checks but don't remember the passphrase I set." "Ok Andy, before I let Julie join the call, I need the email address you registered with and a home postcode if possible." "Sure, my email is (email) and my home postcode code is (zip code)." "Right. Please hold while I verify Julie's identity." The enchantment on the telephone meant Kira could take the call from Julie as part of the same call without Andy being able to hear. She picked up the line and gave her greeting. "This is Jaswinder Kaur from dimension thirteen. Call me Julie." "And your passphrase please." "Call me Julie is also my passphrase." "Thank you Julie, passphrase verified. How can I help you today?" "You should also have Andy on the line about a wand transfer. Can you make this a three way call. If not I can confirm the serial number of the wand being transferred is 7Z4Qehj5275vfn." "Thank you Julie, before I make this call three way, I'll need to confirm the serial number with Andy. I'll place you on hold temporarily." Kira returns to the call with Andy "One last thing before I can add Julie to the call, please can you confirm the serial number of the wand being transferred." "Sure its 7Z4Qehj5275vfn, I was told it was a wand of lightning bolts." Kira opened the line so the three of them could speak together. "So to confirm, wand 7Z4Qehj5275vfn is being transferred from Jaswinder Kaur of dimension thirteen, more commonly known as Julie to Andy Laso of dimension zero?" Julie replied "I didn't know that was Andy's surname but yes. To confirm it is a wand of lightning bolts with seventeen charges per day." Kira said "Yes, that matches our records. Is there anything else I can help either of you with?" "No that's everything for me today." answered Julie, hanging up. "Could you transfer me to orders, I need a dimensional teleports spell so I can return between here and dimension zero." requests Andy "That won't be possible, we don't currently carry such a product. I think it would be better to transfer you to spellcrafting, our R&D department to discuss your needs with them." The third call had taken so long, it was now time for Kira to take her mandatory lunch break. She wondered what the afternoon would bring.	The water cooler gurgled it's own amused laugh alongside the magical support staff members. "So did Maximello find out his apprentice fucked up?" Laurie asked Jason, thoroughly enjoying his latest story. "I hope so, I could hear the poor kid trembling on the phone. If you're going to be a wizards apprentice you can't be scared to show them you mistakes you know?" Simatu and George nodded together, taking sips from their tiny plastic cups. "By the way Simatu," Jason continued, "would you be able to help me out with a ticket I've got? It's from Bucklewitch, she had it reclassed from Routine to Urgent and has been blowing up my phone daily." Simatu, the red scaled shapeshifting lizard person, was agreeing before the request was even finished. "Sure I can help, what's it about?" "Its just a familiar connection problem, she's getting feedback delays and claims it's interrupting her workflow." Simatu rolled his eyes, "It's not. Or if it is then her workflow is, for some reason, cat dependent. Probably just empathetic lag or self-reflective interference. Send it over to me and I'll sort it out." Laurie tsked at the story, "I'm so glad Bucklewitch isn't my account anymore. That woman just needs to retire. She still calls me sometimes! I want to be like, "Bitch, forget my number, we're through!"" George smiled at her, "That's cold Laurie, she misses you!" "Pass. She talked to me like I was her granddaughter or something." "Speaking of which," said Jason, "Laurie I'm taking the girls bowling on Saturday, do you and Robbie want to come along?" Laurie brightened at the invitation, "We'd love to! If just to watch Robbie get all red in the face around Isabelle. It's so cute but at the same time SO obnoxious, he puts on this fake deep voice when he's taking to girls, like falsetto but deeper. Is there a word for that?" Everyone shrugged. Simatu finished his water crumbled the cup between his claws, "Alright, gotta get back to it." On cue everyone agreed and began finishing their waters. Jason ventured a look at the clock, 11:45, he nodded approvingly at himself. He had wrangled everyone for a water break at 11:30, used up 15 minutes there, and now when he returned to his desk he could just kill 15 more minutes. No one would think anything of it because it's only 15 minutes till lunch! He had managed to turn a 1 hour lunch break into a 1.5 hour lunch break, a masterstroke of planning and deception. "THERE'S your chronomancy!" He thought.
	[WP] You work customer support... for wizards.	"No, I think it's static on your end." I said plainly. These ridiculous old men need assistance at all hours. They're by no means impaired, the flow of mana through a body allows it to retain youth for centuries. It's the mind that goes a little. The brain doesn't form the same way after that long a time, with magic bending it. Magical concussions. Still, there's no laws against practicing magic above a certain age. Not many people can stop them from doing it. "I keep say- BLANGING OWW!" The wizened wizard cursed. His seeing orb seemed to be covered in electrical energy that shocked him when he got close. "That SUPERANNUATED witch has cursed my orb! I bet she's secretly watching right now, screeching with laughter at this mess." Manfred Hicksty was a regular for me, as I'm the only working member of the Legerdemain Academy that he'll talk to. "Okay, what I'm going to do is send Someone out to look at it." He beamed at this, standing about two metres away from his seeing orb. Someone is my familiar. I do my best to let him do what he wants but I can sense the vibrations of his annoyance through our link whenever I'm working. It usually means that he's on call too. I can feel pins and needles when he remembers that he might have to actually do some work. The bond isn't overwhelming but we always feel some sense of the other's emotions. So I could feel him tense up, as he slightly beforehand felt the tug of my call. No. Yes, you little shit. Nnnnnnnnnno. Don't want to. Busy. You don't get to be busy. What are you doing? Killing. Oh Blang that. Most of our conversations go like that. I simply rolled my eyes and give his soul another, stronger pull. At that, with a cloud of crimson smoke, appeared before me a a large tabby cat. He instantly stood his fur up and bared his tiny fangs. Grow up. "Okay, Master Hicksty? Yeah, I'm just sending Someone over now." I gave no hint of Someone's tantrums and general abrasiveness. Someone knows that we're professional in front of the customers. Go fix his orb. You might have to shock yourself a bit. You'll be fine. Gonna kill you. At that response, I somewhat happily gave Someone's soul a shove and with two instant bursts of crimson smoke, he disappeared in my study and reappeared at the grand mage's tower over Manfred Hicksty. Definitely gonna kill you. Whatever, this is only the first job of the day.	Roll A D6 For Customer Service: A story overheard from the cubicle-next-door "Necronomicon customer support, this call is being monitored by a cabal, thank you for calling today what issue can I assist you with?" "Mhmm... mhmm... Your zombies are rising upside down? Feet were their arms should be and walking on hands... hmm... this wasn't intentional for shock factor? No? Ok... mhmm... sir may I ask you to check that you have the Necronomicon right-side up? Ah yes that would be the problem, upside-down Necronomicon equals backwards zombies! Glad we could be of service! Please hold to take an automated 2 min survey on the quality of this call. Good bye!" "Necronomicon customer support, this call is being monitored by a cabal, thank you for calling today what issue can I assist you with?" "Mmm... ok... mm hmm? Well ghouls certainly shouldn't be adverse to sunlight lest how can they tend the crypts during the day? You're going to lose vampires to diurnal adventurers if that keeps up. Yeah... mhmm... Plus your policy with Key of Solomon Insurance doesn't cover day raids. No, day-time is extra... Well we can add that for sure but let's get your ghouls acclimated to sunlight first to stem the bleed of vampires... yeah it was a pun haha, yeah I'm the "funny-guy" around here. Question... Did you summon the Ghouls during the solstice in an Eastern Roman Catholic diocese? Uh huh... Mormon region? Well that's good, those guys can't do much to thwart you. Yeah I know we laugh about that too around the water cooler. Uh huh... yeah see that's your problem, no... no the equinox makes them day-walkers, solstice summoning outside of an Eastern Roman Catholic diocese is for nightstalker ghouls only and voids the graveyard warranty so you can't unsummon them... uh huh... but you can... please let me explain... sir! SIR! Sir I can understand your frustration but that is a rude thing to say, yes my mother is already a goat so that curse will really change nothing. Look sir, sir... no... listen please sir, I am trying to help you if you will let me... you may not have day-walker ghouls but nightstalker ghouls are invisible until the victim looks directly at them which is horrifying and they are more apt to steal babies... right... riiiiiight... now you get it, souls AND blood AND more ghouls eventually then you can have hordes and hordes of day-walker ghouls. Say it with me! More babies more ghouls! Hahaha. Yeah... mhmm... no no it's ok we get that all the time... yeah apology accepted it happens to me too. Uh huh, sure! Let me transfer you to BP&I... Blood-pacts & Insurance will be able to upgrade your policy for day-time raids and exorcisms. Glad we could be of service! Please hold to take an automated 2 min survey on the quality of this call. Good bye!" "Necronomicon customer support, this call is being monitored by a cabal, thank you for calling today what issue can I assist you with?" "Uh huh... mm... So your monster is assembled but it is not alive? Did you hit it with lightning? Ok... mm hmm... ok well let's do this... try unplugging it and then plugging it back in... Oh good! Yes! Yes I can hear it screaming incoherently in the background. Honestly it's terrifying over the phone so I am sure the villagers are just going to hate it! Yes sir... yes sir it certainly is alive... I heard you the first four times sir no need to yell... uh huh... We are all excited it's alive too... yep it's alive! Glad we could be of service! Please hold to take an automated 2 min survey on the quality of this call. Good bye!" "Necronomicon customer support, this call is being monitored by a cabal, thank you for calling today what issue can I assist you with..."
	[WP] You work customer support... for wizards.	Levanus stepped back to his desk after his mid-morning “Stand-Up”, feeling defeated. How does someone like ‘Talivor the Esteemed’ even get into the Mages Guild, let alone a management position? “He casts one spell, like 6 years ago, and somehow that makes him better than anyone else here.” Levanus said quietly through the cubicle wall, careful to not let Talivor hear. “Just because we can’t cast magic means we can’t be promoted to lead? 'Our miracles come in the form of our customer service'. Bleh. Full of toads that one is.” Rowe said, voice muffled by the cubicle wall separating their desks. Rowe had been an innkeeper before being attacked by a Necromancer just before the last enchanting. The curses took the function of his legs. He ran out of coin years ago trying every spell in the book to cure them. “Levanus! Open your mind, we have Wizards waiting!” the gruffled voice of Talivor echoed through the room, summoning fear from those around him. He then shut the door to his office, eyes peeking through his blinds out over the call floor. Levanus set his teeth, relaxed his consciousness, and let the next voice in. “Hello and thank you for calling The Mages Guild, and who do I have the pleasure of talking to?” Levanus said as he adjusted his enchanted crown. “Revantes Ravenwood” said the voice echoing in Levanus's head. Ah yes, Ravenwood. A long time customer and Magus Instructor of Rowe's. “Hello Mister Ravenwood. For your security i’d like to go ask you a few verification questions to confirm your Mystical Identity. Would you please confirm your favorite potion? “Potion of Mana.” Typical. Do Wizards have no flair anymore? Ridiculous to even include this as a security question. Levanus regained his thoughts. Now was not the time to draw attention to himself by losing composure in front of a Wizard. “And finally I'm going to send an authentication color to your staff. Could you please confirm the color?” “Cerulean.” Thank you for answering those questions, Ravenwood. How may I be of assistance today?” “Tomes of Healing: Volume 9 order arrived at my tower as expected this morning, however many of the runes do appear to be missing. The spells are not casting as intended.” “Ah yes, Mister Ravenwood. I’d be happy to assist you with that today. Could you please recite the words and what seems to be the issue?” “Certainly, in the Spell: Master Area Healing. Let me see here, it reads ‘Abumar Baltoaye Def Erima Faltoai Gilakai Jef.’ The guide says it begins as a blue ball of energy out of each arm. Exploding into a blue wave influencing the immediate area around. I do not get even a glimmer.” “I see how that would be frustrating, Mister Ravenwood. It does appear that the Ciron Rune Word is missing from this incantation. Ah yes, that is it. Cerumai. The full incantation should read, Abumar Baltoaye Cerumai Def Erima Faltoai Gilakai Jef.” said Levanus. At that moment, an explosion of light illuminated around Levanus, sending pages of tomes spinning through the call center. Talivor shot from his office to the call floor in stunned silence, just in time to see Rowe standing up, looking over the cubicle wall at Levanus. Rowe's eyes met Levanus's over the wall of the cubicle, tears running down his cheeks. "You're... You're a Wizard?" “Thank you so much lad, that seemed to be the issue.” Ravenclaw said, voice echoing in Levanus's mind. “The pleasure is all mine, Ravenwood. Have a magical day,” ..... [r/Astonsh](https://www.reddit.com/r/Astonsh/)	Roll A D6 For Customer Service: A story overheard from the cubicle-next-door "Necronomicon customer support, this call is being monitored by a cabal, thank you for calling today what issue can I assist you with?" "Mhmm... mhmm... Your zombies are rising upside down? Feet were their arms should be and walking on hands... hmm... this wasn't intentional for shock factor? No? Ok... mhmm... sir may I ask you to check that you have the Necronomicon right-side up? Ah yes that would be the problem, upside-down Necronomicon equals backwards zombies! Glad we could be of service! Please hold to take an automated 2 min survey on the quality of this call. Good bye!" "Necronomicon customer support, this call is being monitored by a cabal, thank you for calling today what issue can I assist you with?" "Mmm... ok... mm hmm? Well ghouls certainly shouldn't be adverse to sunlight lest how can they tend the crypts during the day? You're going to lose vampires to diurnal adventurers if that keeps up. Yeah... mhmm... Plus your policy with Key of Solomon Insurance doesn't cover day raids. No, day-time is extra... Well we can add that for sure but let's get your ghouls acclimated to sunlight first to stem the bleed of vampires... yeah it was a pun haha, yeah I'm the "funny-guy" around here. Question... Did you summon the Ghouls during the solstice in an Eastern Roman Catholic diocese? Uh huh... Mormon region? Well that's good, those guys can't do much to thwart you. Yeah I know we laugh about that too around the water cooler. Uh huh... yeah see that's your problem, no... no the equinox makes them day-walkers, solstice summoning outside of an Eastern Roman Catholic diocese is for nightstalker ghouls only and voids the graveyard warranty so you can't unsummon them... uh huh... but you can... please let me explain... sir! SIR! Sir I can understand your frustration but that is a rude thing to say, yes my mother is already a goat so that curse will really change nothing. Look sir, sir... no... listen please sir, I am trying to help you if you will let me... you may not have day-walker ghouls but nightstalker ghouls are invisible until the victim looks directly at them which is horrifying and they are more apt to steal babies... right... riiiiiight... now you get it, souls AND blood AND more ghouls eventually then you can have hordes and hordes of day-walker ghouls. Say it with me! More babies more ghouls! Hahaha. Yeah... mhmm... no no it's ok we get that all the time... yeah apology accepted it happens to me too. Uh huh, sure! Let me transfer you to BP&I... Blood-pacts & Insurance will be able to upgrade your policy for day-time raids and exorcisms. Glad we could be of service! Please hold to take an automated 2 min survey on the quality of this call. Good bye!" "Necronomicon customer support, this call is being monitored by a cabal, thank you for calling today what issue can I assist you with?" "Uh huh... mm... So your monster is assembled but it is not alive? Did you hit it with lightning? Ok... mm hmm... ok well let's do this... try unplugging it and then plugging it back in... Oh good! Yes! Yes I can hear it screaming incoherently in the background. Honestly it's terrifying over the phone so I am sure the villagers are just going to hate it! Yes sir... yes sir it certainly is alive... I heard you the first four times sir no need to yell... uh huh... We are all excited it's alive too... yep it's alive! Glad we could be of service! Please hold to take an automated 2 min survey on the quality of this call. Good bye!" "Necronomicon customer support, this call is being monitored by a cabal, thank you for calling today what issue can I assist you with..."
	[WP] You work customer support... for wizards.	Levanus stepped back to his desk after his mid-morning “Stand-Up”, feeling defeated. How does someone like ‘Talivor the Esteemed’ even get into the Mages Guild, let alone a management position? “He casts one spell, like 6 years ago, and somehow that makes him better than anyone else here.” Levanus said quietly through the cubicle wall, careful to not let Talivor hear. “Just because we can’t cast magic means we can’t be promoted to lead? 'Our miracles come in the form of our customer service'. Bleh. Full of toads that one is.” Rowe said, voice muffled by the cubicle wall separating their desks. Rowe had been an innkeeper before being attacked by a Necromancer just before the last enchanting. The curses took the function of his legs. He ran out of coin years ago trying every spell in the book to cure them. “Levanus! Open your mind, we have Wizards waiting!” the gruffled voice of Talivor echoed through the room, summoning fear from those around him. He then shut the door to his office, eyes peeking through his blinds out over the call floor. Levanus set his teeth, relaxed his consciousness, and let the next voice in. “Hello and thank you for calling The Mages Guild, and who do I have the pleasure of talking to?” Levanus said as he adjusted his enchanted crown. “Revantes Ravenwood” said the voice echoing in Levanus's head. Ah yes, Ravenwood. A long time customer and Magus Instructor of Rowe's. “Hello Mister Ravenwood. For your security i’d like to go ask you a few verification questions to confirm your Mystical Identity. Would you please confirm your favorite potion? “Potion of Mana.” Typical. Do Wizards have no flair anymore? Ridiculous to even include this as a security question. Levanus regained his thoughts. Now was not the time to draw attention to himself by losing composure in front of a Wizard. “And finally I'm going to send an authentication color to your staff. Could you please confirm the color?” “Cerulean.” Thank you for answering those questions, Ravenwood. How may I be of assistance today?” “Tomes of Healing: Volume 9 order arrived at my tower as expected this morning, however many of the runes do appear to be missing. The spells are not casting as intended.” “Ah yes, Mister Ravenwood. I’d be happy to assist you with that today. Could you please recite the words and what seems to be the issue?” “Certainly, in the Spell: Master Area Healing. Let me see here, it reads ‘Abumar Baltoaye Def Erima Faltoai Gilakai Jef.’ The guide says it begins as a blue ball of energy out of each arm. Exploding into a blue wave influencing the immediate area around. I do not get even a glimmer.” “I see how that would be frustrating, Mister Ravenwood. It does appear that the Ciron Rune Word is missing from this incantation. Ah yes, that is it. Cerumai. The full incantation should read, Abumar Baltoaye Cerumai Def Erima Faltoai Gilakai Jef.” said Levanus. At that moment, an explosion of light illuminated around Levanus, sending pages of tomes spinning through the call center. Talivor shot from his office to the call floor in stunned silence, just in time to see Rowe standing up, looking over the cubicle wall at Levanus. Rowe's eyes met Levanus's over the wall of the cubicle, tears running down his cheeks. "You're... You're a Wizard?" “Thank you so much lad, that seemed to be the issue.” Ravenclaw said, voice echoing in Levanus's mind. “The pleasure is all mine, Ravenwood. Have a magical day,” ..... [r/Astonsh](https://www.reddit.com/r/Astonsh/)	"By Artemis' Bow, not another Full Moon..These are the worst nights to work as Customer Support for Wizards, Magicians, Witches, Seers, Prophets, Shamans, Druids... You name them, we've seen it all... If I get one more call about someone using Maple to make a Wand rather than Holly-Wood, I will go full-moon crazy, I swear to the Gods and Goddesses-... Hold on David, I've got another call coming in." "Hello there, Happy Solstice, I am Tabitha with Magic-Touch Customer Support, please state your Field of Magic as well what seems to be the issue this night???" "Oh yes, hello there, I am a Wizard and Seer, my scrying-orb does not seem to be doing the trick tonight. I have no idea what is going on.. " "Okay Sir, first off, did you try anointing it with Salt-Water?" "Why yes I did." "Okay, Good. Did you try charging it under a Full-Moon such as Tonight's???" "Blast!!!! No I did not." "Well Sir, that is the second step after anointing your orb with Salt-Water, and thirdly, it also helps if you also bless it under the authority of either Christ, Hermes, Thoth, or any Deity, Idol, or God or Goddess of Magic or Wisdom." "......... Thank you Tabitha, I'll try that." "Alright Sir, Please do those things and you shall find your Scrying Orb will be fully operational. Happy Solstice! Have a great night!" \---------------------------------------------------------------- "Tabitha, we've got another call for you on line 6." "Thank you David." "Hello, Magic-Touch Customer Support, Tabitha speaking, please state your field of magic and the issue you need to resolve." "Hey Tabitha, I am a Shaman, one of my clients seems to be going psychotic and howling like a wolf and going off about being surveilled and followed by the Police." "A common problem, especially during a full-moon. What Sacraments has your client taken??" "Well, I am not so sure, he told me he is an Avid Psychonaut, and he passed my vetting process, and I administered him some Ayahuasca." "Has your client been habitually smoking anything other than Tobacco??" "Not as far as I know." "Okay, Good. Just to be sure, the first thing I want you to do is administer your client some Nelumbo Nucifera, Pink Lotus Extract. The Nuciferine that is in it works similarly to an atypical anti-psychotic. It will level out his Dopamine and Down-regulate it, as well as blockade the Alpha-Adrenergic systems and also down-regulate Serotonergic Gene-Expression.." "Okay, I will prepare the Pink Lotus extract. Is there anything else I should do??" "Well, is your client in a Theta-Wave state???" "He is, he says he is hearing voices." "Are his voices menacing, violent in nature?? Does he have any violent proclivities??" "The voices are threatening to arrest him if he carries on using Shamanic Sacraments. As for violent proclivities, I would say No, he passed my vetting process." "Okay, Sir, I need you to cease any further utilization of sacraments on your client, the Pink Lotus Extract should calm him down significantly, but what I must recommend next, your client will not be keen on.." ".... Okay. What is it??" "I need you to advise your client to go to the best Psychiatric Hospital nearest his residence and be intaken as a Voluntary Patient, or else it is inevitable that the Police will do it for him.. And make him an involuntary patient.." "I will administer him the Pink Lotus Extract, and when he levels out, I will make the suggestion for him to seek Psychiatric Care." "Okay, thank you Sir. That is the best possible course of action. Have a good night." \Sigh\ "Have a good night Tabitha. Thank you." \------------------------------------------------------------------ "Tabitha, I've got another call for you on line 3..."
	[WP] You have the ability to detect fish underwater. This makes you an expert fisherman, of course. But the deep sea hides so many secrets that you can’t even begin to describe.	When I was a young child I stumbled across a witch. As the daughter of a tradesman I had a few ingredients she wanted for future spells. She did not have any money but she promised to grant me a super power that would be of great use and power to me, so I willingly agreed. Though at the age of 11 being given the ability to detect fish under water was quite underwhelming, I was expecting something at least a little bit movie worthy- super speed or telekinesis at the very least. Though as I grew up the skill did become more and more useful to me and the people around me. Being able to get on a boat and knowing exactly where to go to find the biggest fish of the highest value was much more rewarding then I ever thought. I soon became famous for my ability to step in any body of water and know right where to go to catch what I wanted. Though for the first several years I never saw anything but ponds, lakes, and rivers. The most interesting fish I was able to detect was those "River monster" style catfish and gar that were several feet long. It came to the point where i was invited to go deep sea fishing off the coast of Australia with some very well known fisherman. As I stepped onto this large fishing vessel I immedietly could feel the new, tropical fish under my feet. Fish came to me almost as shapes, small black spots in my mind with a fuzzy hue around it to show how far or close it was, the farther it was the fuzzier the black spot was. As the boat began to set sail into the ocean the orbs zooming around my mind shifted from zooming black spots to large, slow moving ones. I was taken aback by the amount of them, so much so I had to take a seat, close my eyes, and rub my temples. Thankfully everybody around me thought I was just suffering from sea sickness, producing laughs and jokes as I was supposed to be an experienced fisher. A few miles from shore I quickly opened my eyes and stood up, feeling something I had never felt before. "We wont find anything here. We have to go back." My voice came out in a croak. "please, we have too." I looked around quickly, keeping my eyes mainly in the direction we had been heading. The people around me grumbled that I hadnt even cast my line yet or I was just feeling sickly. "If somebody doesnt turn us around I will turn this fucking ship around myself!" My voice instantly showing both my fear and anger. Due to my persistence the man driving did roll his eyes and start to turn us around, not wanting to have a scene continue on his boat this far from shore. As we turned around I sat back down, panting as I looked back towards where we had just been going. the pitch black, moon sized orb that had settled in my mind with crystal clear edges was swirling just feet underneath us. Thank god it became fuzzier and fuzzier as we sped away back to the safety of land.	Ever since I discovered me ability, of course I had to apply for a fisherman's position at me local village. Well I got the job and now I regret that with every damn second I am still alive. After getting the job I moved to a local rundown wharf and started living there, never bothering to actually repair the damn thing. The first few thousand moons at the wharf felt normal: my ability to detect me prey got me finely through the warm, hot and mild summer and autumn months, even the more cold ones of winter. Actually I even passed most of the fishermen of me village in profit in winter for the shear fact that I could even see beneath the thick ice that would form up on top of our lakes and know where to fish. But then it happened on that unholy winter day, I went and sat in me wharf, peering through the ice and I sensed it... It was much, much bigger than the fish we had gotten thus far and that of course excited me to fish it up. It was no fish. That... that thing... was a monster. The thing... was in the shape of one of our local fish, but it had unnaturally black scales and... three eyes. I stared into it's middle most eye and.. and it started whispering to me. The whispering mesmerized me at first, but then.. it quickly turned to pure anxiety and stress. My surroundings started to warp and change around me and faster than I could even notice I was surrounded by a disgustingly purple mist. Then the whispering turned to... clear... speech and the feeling of stress and anxiety into blissfulness: ''All shall drown in the circle of stars. Come little fisherman and free me from my prison.'' I couldn't resist him and so I answered. ''Yes, master.'' I didn't even recognize what I had just said, it all just had felt so natural to say. ''The time of mortals is at an end and the birth of a new black empire is inevitable. Join me on my grandeur quest and I will grand you powers unfathomable.'' ''The Whisperer must be freed.''
	[WP] You have the ability to detect fish underwater. This makes you an expert fisherman, of course. But the deep sea hides so many secrets that you can’t even begin to describe.	“Humans were never supposed to swim in the realm of the oceans. The oceans are not something we are capable of understanding. Its size, its darkness... it's all about as comprehensible to our puny minds as the vacuums between galaxies.” This was the first passage of my favorite book, The Dive Instinct, by “Captain” Wallace Reno. He was a bit of a nutter, but he dreamed big and wrote bigger. His writing had an intensity to it; it had the force of his vision and grandeur of his fantasy. Well, that was until his writing dried up and he went on an eternal voyage to the sea. He planned to live off of the oceans on an elaborate sailboat and never set foot on land again, exploring every submerged landmark the world had to offer. That was fifteen years ago. I have a vested interest in this man because it turns out he’s my dad. I never knew what called him so out there that caused him to abandon me as a child, but I didn’t resent him for his eccentric dream. Turns out, I inherited his restless sea-genes, and I was obsessed with the water, seeing its creatures and twilight secrets in my mind’s eye. Mom never let me go remotely near the ocean though, and showed a rare, scary side of her personality when she saw me looking at pictures or reading books about the seas. Today, however, on my twenty-first birthday, I was a man, and she realized that she could protect me no longer. She leaned against the doorway as I heaved the two duffel bags of everything I owned in the world into my small car. “Goodbye, mom!” I said. “I know you’re going somewhere far, far away, son,” She said, walking to me and cupping my face in her hands, “But please, promise me you’ll come home.” “Yeah.” I said, turning away, “I promise.” Then I turned away from her gaze lest I give my lie away. I climbed into the hot, leather seat, turned the car key, and was puttering off. It took a week to drive to the coast, and I savored the voyage of greasy fast food and gas stations as if it were the last time I’d be on land. I pulled into the parking lot of a rocky beach and looked out at the ocean. The ocean. It had claimed a nearly religious glory in my imagination that seeing its endless expanse was almost as surreal as looking upon the craters of the moon or the hobbit hills of Middle Earth. I pulled out a creased copy of the Dive Instinct and compared the beach to the picture in the first chapter. It was the same one. Tomorrow was as long as I would wait. Tomorrow I’d be sailing to see what my father saw. “What can I do for…” The old, leathery fisherman stopped as he saw me. “You’re Reno’s aren’t you?” “Yes,” I said, “I’d like to buy one of your good, sturdy boats for $20,000. I’d like to close it out tonight and get packed up to leave tomorrow.” “Son,” The fisherman said, “You should go home. Your dad… he probably didn’t make it.” “If you’re not selling me the boat, I’ll go somewhere else.” “I’d go with you, or send someone, but ain’t no one crazy enough to go out that deep into the ocean away from home or sense on a dingy little boat.” “I know what he planned to do, I know where he left off and calculated where he should be right now. With enough supplies, I can find my dad for sure.” “Alright son, but remember, it’s really dangerous out there. I don’t care what sea-blood runs in your veins.” “Thank you, sir, you’re a good man.” The next day, I was off. The boat had a sturdy sail, a durable engine, and a surplus of all supplies. I would be relying on my fishing a little, but somehow I knew that I would be an expert at that. I took a deep breath, waved to the fisherman, and turned my back to the receding land for the last time. I spent that day navigating, but I didn’t use the navigator. Instead, my salt-crusted fingers held my father’s book like a celestial map against the star-jeweled horizon. The picture he took of the sky at this time of year matched my own. When I was confident I was going the right way, I lay down on the ship’s coarse bunk, laying down to sleep for the first time in my new life. Something tore through my mind. A voice, a vision, an emotion, from inside of my blood and inside of my mind. I sat up, breathing hard. It stopped momentarily, then erupted again in a cacophony of voices, chaotically overlaid on top of each other. The voices slowly petered out to a familiar gravelly tone. Son. If you’re hearing this, that means you have my blood. If you wish to truly understand what that means, stop the boat and jump into the water. I stood there for a second, then scrambled to stop the boat. Then I leaned over the edge and looked into the dark, turbulent waters. I climbed down the ladder, shivering, and splashed into the water. Suddenly the dreams and the romance of the sea were extinguished. It was simply water, cold, heavy, and harsh against my fragile body, threatening to drown me and dash me against the rocks of the shore. Now don’t get scared son. Just focus on your breathing. His voice traveled far more clearly once I was in the water. My heartbeat slowed as I let my body calmly regulate its temperature. The dreamlike quality of the sea flooded back into my mind. Now drink it. I opened my mouth and drank the brine. I gagged as a bit went to my lungs and my stomach. Then what felt like an electric tingle zapped through my mind and I could see. The ocean was light. I could see through the water as if it were light and air. I could see the fish, the creatures, all the way to the twilight zone. My mind was connected to all of these creatures and something else. Something else with a mind like mine lurking warily deep down. So this was what my father saw. ___ Thanks for reading! This is my first response to a writing prompt, feedback is appreciated! r/BoiOats	The doorbell rang as I made my way to the counter under a multitude of suspicious glares, they been worried about the state of my mental health after the incidents began happening, most of them thought I already went insane. I sat down as I nervously tapped my finger on the counter, I was sweating heavily as chills went down my spine. -What will you like gentleman, said the owner of the dinner as he hung a dirty and worn rag over his shoulder. I mumbled my way into asking for a simple burger with fries on the side, he is a nice man, he actually treats me like a real human being. I begin devouring the fires as soon as the plate arrives, I wasn’t able to sleep or eat after what I saw I the bay earlier this week. It was a regular spring morning, this was the first day without rain in the whole month, I decided it would be a perfect day for fishing, suddenly I began to feel a ringing in my ear, I lost my balance and fell in the water, I kicked frenetically as I felt something dragging me into. After a short squabble I managed to free myself of whatever my captor was, I returned to my boat and stared at the deep blue waves, at first I began to look for it, but I was surprised to see hundreds of colorful fish under the waves, but like actually under the waves, some of them appeared to be hundred of meters below me. With happiness in my heart I took out my fishnet I swung it to the sea. Dozens of laid at my feet by noon, I decided it was enough for today and turned the motor of my boat and began heading to the shore, when all of a sudden I begin to feel movement under the boat, I peered down and saw it, it’s body was like that of an eel but with gigantic fangs and shark like fins.
	[WP] You have the ability to detect fish underwater. This makes you an expert fisherman, of course. But the deep sea hides so many secrets that you can’t even begin to describe.	It’s a simple life. Every morning, I eat my breakfast and all that, put on the wetsuit, and take my boat out to the reef. Then I dive in, and hunt. And I do mean every day. Most folks will tell you not to spearfish on certain days, because the wind disturbs the visibility. But not me. I don’t need to see the fish to hunt them, and holding my breath was never much of an issue. I guess that’s like a super power? I never cared. I didn’t need to be Aquaman. Just a talented spearfisherman. It’s a simple life. Or... it was. One day, I went to the far side of the reef. I hovered over the coral, with the open sea at my back, and closed my eyes. Sensing the simple thoughts of simple fish skin across my mind. Here, there were other thoughts though, far in the deep. Wiser thoughts. Dolphins, I assumed, or whales. So I ignored them at first, and pulled the trigger. He was a huge tuna, and he fought valiantly, but in the end the weapons of man won out, and I stuffed him in an ice chest. I would preserve his flesh to sell at the market, and he would feed someone for a very long tome. Such is the way of our mother, the Earth. When I returned to my place, hovering beside the reef, I noticed the great minds were closer now, and I could feel the shape of them. There were hundreds, a great school of them, and they were not dolphins. Their minds felt like sharks, and they were not equally powerful. As I stalked a mighty and venerable lobster, I felt two of those minds break off from the group and approach me. They felt more curious than hungry, though, so I did not worry. I pulled the trigger, and my spear sunk into its mark with a crunch. Her too, I placed in my ice chest. But as I reloaded my spear gun, I felt the presence of the sharks circling my boat. One seemed hungry now, but the other, stronger mind felt soothing, calm, and stern. I hesitated for a moment, but dived in the end. They were hammerheads. But one of them was also something else. She indeed had arms to hold her weapon of bone, and a waist to hang a length of seaweed-rope, and a chest almost and a head in an almost human arrangement. She was not a mammal. Her skin would still bear the coarseness of denticles, and her teeth innumerable. And of coarse, she was a hammerhead. Where a human would have eye sockets, the bridge of her nose extended out to either side, merging with her eyebrows and reaching an inch or three beyond the sides of her head. She spoke, and though I had never heard the language in my life, I understood her with ease. “This land-prey is different. It is not afraid, like the rest. Maybe the elders are wrong. Maybe they are good for more than meat, if we come to them on equal terms, instead of with harpoons one the night and fog.” I was dumbfounded, and opted to climb immediately back into my boat to collect my thoughts. But she followed me, standing on my small deck with sturdy legs where, only moments before, there had been a tail. And her legs were not those of a human, but raptor-like, complete with talons. “Hello?” I squeaked. She cocked her head quizzically. “You speak my tongue?” She said, “You can understand me?” “No? Yes. Yes.” “How strange. But good. There is a chance.”	Ever since I was a kid, I had the ability to spoke to fish. But then I was there sitting at the harbor talking to a freaking lobster . I used to eat these things and now I was stuck in a conversation with it. I thought I am going insane. While sitting here with the lobster scolding me, I tried not to pay attention. My mind wandered off to when I first discovered my power . I was in at a pet store talking to the funky clown-fish, the big googly-eyed goldfish, the colorful koi fish, and the dancing hermit crab. And that was nostalgia. But this lobster thing seems at the time more of a mess than a miracle. The lobster won't stop scolding me. "Why have you been eating seafood for most of your life!!?" The loud yelling that only me and probably only a rare few people can hear freaked me out. "Because I didn't know that I can talk to creatures who were meant to be my food?" "Meant to your food!?," said the lobster angrily, "You were supposed to be my protector!" "Honestly, I would rather see you on my platter." "Even so, I will guide you to be our protector." "I must abandon my life of being a fisherman to be your protector. And I really don't want to...It's uncomfortable leaving that especially when you've been doing it for a long time." "I don't think your appetite will remain after this. " "Yes. You're right. Congratulations for making me lose my appetite for fish and chips, sushi, and clam chowder." "So do you want to hear a story to feel better?" "What story?," I asked amused that a lobster has a story to tell. "Sea monsters are real." My eyes widened. "Sea monster....... I lost my father to a sea monster many years ago. I wasn't there was happened but people found his missing bloody boat." "I understand your pain," said the lobster, "My father was probably eaten by someone you sold him to, monster." "Okay. I get it. I was a terrible person who underestimated his gift and ask dolphins to help me in catching fellas like you so I can a quick buck....I am sorry." "Really?" "Yes. Friend." "That means a lot, human." "From now, I will protect you. But I also want revenge on that sea monster." "Are you out of your mind?" "I must avenge my father" "I..." "Please...." "Fine." \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------'Maybe becoming emotionally attached to seafood is a good thing', I thought. 'I can finally get my revenge.' So on that very night, I sailed into the ocean with my new trusty lobster sidekick. I never really planned for this. Since I can talk to all sea life, I was easily listen to conversations of the various creatures in the ocean to find out where the sea monster usually shows up. And then a mermaid emerges from the water but she wasn't pretty as Ariel from the Disney movies. She was more much more disturbing. Her eyes looked like shark eyes and her skin was pale and green. Her brown hair was covered in green moss and her breathe smells like the breath of wolf. She even had an octopus tentacle for a tongue.. She started to sing. I want to flee but I was unable to leave because I was enchanted by a song she sang. But the lobster leapt at her and the song stopped because she was busy trying to tear the lobster apart. And that gave me enough time to run away. And then the next day, I woke up bad about recklessly heading out there because the lobster might have died. It decided to bravely sacrificed itself to save my life even though I used to eat seafood. " "I need to get rid of monsters like those not for revenge but to protect humanity.", I said. " I can't rush out there recklessly anymore." I paused for a while. I really missed that lobster. But then I heard a knock on my door. I opened it to find the lobster. "What's up, human." \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- (I am open to Critique! P.S My imagination got crazy. )
	[WP] You have the ability to detect fish underwater. This makes you an expert fisherman, of course. But the deep sea hides so many secrets that you can’t even begin to describe.	All I want for my birthday is something nobody in my family seems to understand. I blow out the candles and look around to smiling faces and people shouting. Woo hoo 81. As the party ends and my family is leaving I catch my 11 year old grandson. As he leaves he ask me, is it true you always catch a fish when you go fishing? It's Saturday and I'm about to head out fishing when the phone rings. It's my daughter, my grandson wants to go fishing for the first time. I tell her I'll be there in 30 mins. We shove the boat of the rocky beach and head out into the lake. My grandson hasn't said much of anything, I'm not sure he even wants to be here. As we setup next to the cove of the shore I grab the poles and give him give him the basics of fishing and our lines hit the water. Within a minute, I feel a bite and yank, a nice 13 incher. I take him, show him to my grandson, and toss him back. I hold my pole back. We sit, and sit, and sit. I put my line back in and boom, I feel a nibble, but yank to make sure it doesn't catch, but my Grandson see's it and looks puzzled. He finally speak up and says, it's true. You do always catch fish. Why don't we go out a bit and catch a BIG one! I heard all the big ones are in the middle of the lake where it's deep. I look at him at say, I'm happy here in the cove, I've had success her, and most importantly no issues. He insists, let's get a BIG one so I can take picture for my instagram. I ask him why he wants a bigger fish and he doesn't know why. I look at him in the eye and tell him something along the lines of; in life you need to know your limits. It's amazing how happy one can be when they are content with their success and and realize no matter what there will always be a bigger fish. So when do you stop? He looks at me and says nothing, he put his line back in the water and feels a slight tug, a little guy, he smiles.	Ever since I was a kid, I had the ability to spoke to fish. But then I was there sitting at the harbor talking to a freaking lobster . I used to eat these things and now I was stuck in a conversation with it. I thought I am going insane. While sitting here with the lobster scolding me, I tried not to pay attention. My mind wandered off to when I first discovered my power . I was in at a pet store talking to the funky clown-fish, the big googly-eyed goldfish, the colorful koi fish, and the dancing hermit crab. And that was nostalgia. But this lobster thing seems at the time more of a mess than a miracle. The lobster won't stop scolding me. "Why have you been eating seafood for most of your life!!?" The loud yelling that only me and probably only a rare few people can hear freaked me out. "Because I didn't know that I can talk to creatures who were meant to be my food?" "Meant to your food!?," said the lobster angrily, "You were supposed to be my protector!" "Honestly, I would rather see you on my platter." "Even so, I will guide you to be our protector." "I must abandon my life of being a fisherman to be your protector. And I really don't want to...It's uncomfortable leaving that especially when you've been doing it for a long time." "I don't think your appetite will remain after this. " "Yes. You're right. Congratulations for making me lose my appetite for fish and chips, sushi, and clam chowder." "So do you want to hear a story to feel better?" "What story?," I asked amused that a lobster has a story to tell. "Sea monsters are real." My eyes widened. "Sea monster....... I lost my father to a sea monster many years ago. I wasn't there was happened but people found his missing bloody boat." "I understand your pain," said the lobster, "My father was probably eaten by someone you sold him to, monster." "Okay. I get it. I was a terrible person who underestimated his gift and ask dolphins to help me in catching fellas like you so I can a quick buck....I am sorry." "Really?" "Yes. Friend." "That means a lot, human." "From now, I will protect you. But I also want revenge on that sea monster." "Are you out of your mind?" "I must avenge my father" "I..." "Please...." "Fine." \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------'Maybe becoming emotionally attached to seafood is a good thing', I thought. 'I can finally get my revenge.' So on that very night, I sailed into the ocean with my new trusty lobster sidekick. I never really planned for this. Since I can talk to all sea life, I was easily listen to conversations of the various creatures in the ocean to find out where the sea monster usually shows up. And then a mermaid emerges from the water but she wasn't pretty as Ariel from the Disney movies. She was more much more disturbing. Her eyes looked like shark eyes and her skin was pale and green. Her brown hair was covered in green moss and her breathe smells like the breath of wolf. She even had an octopus tentacle for a tongue.. She started to sing. I want to flee but I was unable to leave because I was enchanted by a song she sang. But the lobster leapt at her and the song stopped because she was busy trying to tear the lobster apart. And that gave me enough time to run away. And then the next day, I woke up bad about recklessly heading out there because the lobster might have died. It decided to bravely sacrificed itself to save my life even though I used to eat seafood. " "I need to get rid of monsters like those not for revenge but to protect humanity.", I said. " I can't rush out there recklessly anymore." I paused for a while. I really missed that lobster. But then I heard a knock on my door. I opened it to find the lobster. "What's up, human." \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- (I am open to Critique! P.S My imagination got crazy. )
	[WP] You have the ability to detect fish underwater. This makes you an expert fisherman, of course. But the deep sea hides so many secrets that you can’t even begin to describe.	As his assistant, I sat on the doctor's boat, twiddling my thumbs while he stared deeply into the algae saturated lake. In his cloudy, pale, eyes I could make out the reverberations of the pool's surface as the fish slapped their tails against the muddy bank. He stood petrified, as if a single breath would have disturbed the murky air. This was, according to his own words, the 'magnum opus' of his career and an 'incredible learning experience' for an aspiring marine biologist. It was just last week that the doctor, after 30 years of fruitless research, managed to procure a most peculiar specimen. A twin-headed eel-like creature, spanning an arm's length with leech-like fangs. It was nothing like I, or any of the scientific community, had ever seen. He said that this creature was most likely a bottom-feeder and had floated to the surface when it had perished. This hypothesis was reasonable, but what wasn't reasonable were these 'expeditions' to this lake in the dead of night. I didn't know why I was drawn to this lake, especially with my inexplicable recent disgust for fish. Maybe I only continued to work with the doctor because of the unconventional peculiarity of that creature. When it was reluctantly handed to me, I hanged the fish and stared at its dilated pupils for a brief eternity. Its mouth, protruding chipped teeth, seemed to twitch in the dry air as if it were attempting to speak. "The water..." If I were to have stayed any longer near that festering fish I would have become as senile as the doctor. On this night, the doctor held out his cold, muddied, hands with glee. In it was another unidentified fish, gasping to breathe the air from the surface world. This one had protruding squid-like tentacles from its body and urchin-like spikes around its tail, and it was completely foreign to me like the rest. "There are more..." The doctor cradled the creature in his hands as if it were his newborn child, whispering to it. But unlike him, seeeing this creature turned my stomach, and this night was especially revolting. This persistent feeling of a familiar rancid stench wafted through the air. "Under the lake..." He jolted up and pointed to the water. Before I could comprehend what had happened, the doctor had placed on his diving helmet and leapt into the abyss. And after a single splash all was still and I could once again see the moonlight reflected across the surface. It was not that I couldn't stop him, but a primal desire from within held me silent. I wanted to see those panic-inducing things from the world below. I could always feel them from the surface, floating just beyond my grasp, slithering away into the safety of the darkness. And so, I let him swim to his heart's content. "Up..." The doctor calls to me, and so I reeled in the cable attached to his suit. Faster and faster, I pulled, feeling his voice growing to a roaring crescendo beyond the water. "Help..." Only a few meters of the line were left until I felt the gut-wrenching feeling that something was wrong --- that I shouldn't disturb what was just now at arm's reach. Against all of these painful signals, I gave one more pull. I pulled the doctor onto the boat and removed the protective helmet. Hundreds of blood-red worms scrambled onto the deck, writhing in the cold air. I could barely recognize him with his now jellyfish-like skin bloated from the world below. His pale fish-eyes pierced my soul with anger. "Murder..." I collected myself and realized my mistake: I do know the fish in this lake. And so I tossed him back with the rest, content with the lake's usual hunger. It was a good night for an 'expedition', and I then turned the boat back home, leaving behind only the murmurs of the fish under this silent lake.	Ever since I was a kid, I had the ability to spoke to fish. But then I was there sitting at the harbor talking to a freaking lobster . I used to eat these things and now I was stuck in a conversation with it. I thought I am going insane. While sitting here with the lobster scolding me, I tried not to pay attention. My mind wandered off to when I first discovered my power . I was in at a pet store talking to the funky clown-fish, the big googly-eyed goldfish, the colorful koi fish, and the dancing hermit crab. And that was nostalgia. But this lobster thing seems at the time more of a mess than a miracle. The lobster won't stop scolding me. "Why have you been eating seafood for most of your life!!?" The loud yelling that only me and probably only a rare few people can hear freaked me out. "Because I didn't know that I can talk to creatures who were meant to be my food?" "Meant to your food!?," said the lobster angrily, "You were supposed to be my protector!" "Honestly, I would rather see you on my platter." "Even so, I will guide you to be our protector." "I must abandon my life of being a fisherman to be your protector. And I really don't want to...It's uncomfortable leaving that especially when you've been doing it for a long time." "I don't think your appetite will remain after this. " "Yes. You're right. Congratulations for making me lose my appetite for fish and chips, sushi, and clam chowder." "So do you want to hear a story to feel better?" "What story?," I asked amused that a lobster has a story to tell. "Sea monsters are real." My eyes widened. "Sea monster....... I lost my father to a sea monster many years ago. I wasn't there was happened but people found his missing bloody boat." "I understand your pain," said the lobster, "My father was probably eaten by someone you sold him to, monster." "Okay. I get it. I was a terrible person who underestimated his gift and ask dolphins to help me in catching fellas like you so I can a quick buck....I am sorry." "Really?" "Yes. Friend." "That means a lot, human." "From now, I will protect you. But I also want revenge on that sea monster." "Are you out of your mind?" "I must avenge my father" "I..." "Please...." "Fine." \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------'Maybe becoming emotionally attached to seafood is a good thing', I thought. 'I can finally get my revenge.' So on that very night, I sailed into the ocean with my new trusty lobster sidekick. I never really planned for this. Since I can talk to all sea life, I was easily listen to conversations of the various creatures in the ocean to find out where the sea monster usually shows up. And then a mermaid emerges from the water but she wasn't pretty as Ariel from the Disney movies. She was more much more disturbing. Her eyes looked like shark eyes and her skin was pale and green. Her brown hair was covered in green moss and her breathe smells like the breath of wolf. She even had an octopus tentacle for a tongue.. She started to sing. I want to flee but I was unable to leave because I was enchanted by a song she sang. But the lobster leapt at her and the song stopped because she was busy trying to tear the lobster apart. And that gave me enough time to run away. And then the next day, I woke up bad about recklessly heading out there because the lobster might have died. It decided to bravely sacrificed itself to save my life even though I used to eat seafood. " "I need to get rid of monsters like those not for revenge but to protect humanity.", I said. " I can't rush out there recklessly anymore." I paused for a while. I really missed that lobster. But then I heard a knock on my door. I opened it to find the lobster. "What's up, human." \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- (I am open to Critique! P.S My imagination got crazy. )
	[WP] Surrounded by friends and family, you ruminate on all the good you've done as you pass on with no regrets. A light pierces the entirety of your vision and a gruesome horned figure stands before you. "Welcome to Heaven", Lucifer says with a smile. "There's been a small change in management".	I blinked, completely confused. Surely this was some weird twisted joke, right? I took a look around and saw other people walking around. Some glowed with a faint and colored light and others had wings. “You see, the other deities got tired of God’s shit and decided to help me overthrow the big man himself.” Lucifer stated as he flipped through a Bible. “I mean honestly. No gambling, no judging. No killing. No loving who you want. Talk about dystopian. He’s such a hypocrite too. You’re not supposed to kill and yet stoning a woman who decided to lose her virginity before marriage is okay? Really?” He slammed the Bible shut and tossed it aside, the book bursting into flames the second it left his hand. Then one of the blue glowing people walked over. “I guess this is where I come in? Hi. I’m Mathew and I suppose it’s time I showed you around.” he said as he took my hand in his. He lead me around everywhere. “This is the brothel. This is the adoption center. The pet shop. The mall. The arcade. The casino. The bar. And this is the residential area. There are other places going up soon and we’ll have a banquet later tonight to welcome the newbies. You’ll also be assigned a job there.” “A job?” I asked after finding my voice and taking a moment to process what’s happening. “A job. Everyone has one. This place needs them to run smoothly. You’ve probably noticed the winged and glowing people here. Each color represents a different job. Blue is for tours and information. Greens are basically cops. Purpled work at the brothel. Orange is for the kitchen staff. Yellows work at the mall. The arcade has brown. The bar gets white. And reds are for those who go down to the living world every now and then to collect souls or make deals.” He stated all this in a calm manner as if it wasn’t the most absurd thing ever. “And the wings?” I asked. “They’re the architects. They make sure buildings are up to par.” He said nonchalantly. A bell then rang and he practically dragged me to a palace like building. “This is where Lucifer and a select few people live. If you get a silver glow, you’ll likely be staying here. Silver is in charge of deciding who goes where and when people die. They’re like reapers with the added benefit of deciding people’s jobs.” He then took out a stamp. “Did you get all that?” “I guess. When did this all happen?” “It’s been about a month.” He said as he stamped my forehead pretty harshly. “Your color should appear tomorrow. Come back here to get your first assignment.” He said and lead me back to the residential area and to a small pink house. “This is where you’ll be staying unless you get stuck with silver.” The house was small and pink. It had my name written above the door in white letters. “Isabella”. Mathew walked off and left me to my own devices at that point. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “It’s been about three years since then. I got silver. Obviously. Sometimes I still don’t know what I’m doing. But you’ll get used to it.” I say as I finish telling my story to the latest newcomer, a teen girl who downed too many sleep pills. “I think he gave me my tour as well” she laughs. She’ll get silver too. We’ve become short handed since there’s just three of us at the moment, so we decided the next person to pop up would help us out “I think you’re gonna like it here.” I tell her. ——————————— First time writing for a prompt. Hope you liked it!	"So... you're in charge of heaven now, then?" I asked. "Yup, that's what I just said. Are you dumb?" the devil replied. He looked rather odd with a halo sitting above his horns and a pair of angel wings sprouting from his back. "Hey now, that's uncalled for!" I said. "No need to insult me. I'm just an honest Christian man that's a little confused about what's going on here." "Well, it's like this. God put so many evil souls into Hell that eventually I had an army strong enough to take over heaven. His arrogance was his own undoing." the Devil said, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me up to the Pearly Gates. Instead of St. Peter, there stood a red imp in a tuxedo. "Another arrival, sir?" the imp said. He appeared to be smoking a cigar, but the clouds of smoke around him smelled strongly of sulfur. "Obviously. Now I don't have time for chit-chat today so would you kindly hurry up and open the gates for us?" the Devil replied. "Right away, sir!" the imp said, and dutifully snapped his fingers. The gates flung wide open as if pushed by an unseen force. The clouds we were standing on were white and puffy, but past the gate, they were gray and lit up by occasional flashes of lightning. My stomach tightened. "This doesn't feel right" I said to the Devil. "In all of the stories I've read about Heaven, none of them described anything like this." He clapped a hand over my shoulder and chuckled. "You don't like the new decorations? There's no need to be so uneasy; this is Heaven, after all. Now come on, let's head in and get you situated in your new home." We began walking. "Home?" I asked. "Do I get to choose where I live?" "Afraid not. But don't worry, I'm certain you'll find things rather agreeable once you get used to it". "I guess so" I said, but of course I didn't really believe it. We continued down a twisted path to wherever he was taking me. The longer we walked, the more certain I was that I should have run away as soon as we approached the gate. There were random pits of fire with demons roasting people over them as if they were making s'mores on a camping trip. I found it hard to believe that they could so casually ignore all of that screaming. A little ways up, we saw a demon dragging what appeared to be half of a human, though it was difficult to tell because the rest of the body was so mutilated. Noticing my pale face, the Devil tried to reassure me. "Yes, the things happening around us might be very nasty, but I don't want you to worry for a single moment. Those people getting tortured are transfers from Hell. For people like you, this place is still paradise." "If that's true, then where are they? All I see is suffering and death around me." The Devil's grip suddenly became much tighter. "Well, I suppose there's no use lying to you anymore. Did you really think that when I took over Heaven, I'd just let everyone be? That I wouldn't just turn it into a second Hell?" "But why? How can you torture all these innocent souls? At least in Hell, they did something to deserve it!" I yelled. I tried to twist out of his grasp, but his grip was so strong I wouldn't have been able to break it even in my youth. "At least in Hell, they were actually fun to hang around. You guys up here are just a bunch of virtuous losers. If anything, you deserve it more!" the Devil retorted. "You won't get away with this" I screamed, struggling harder than ever. "If I can get away with stuffing Jesus into a dog crate for all eternity, then I can get away with doing whatever I please to you. The fact is, you're completely at my mercy. I could burn you, cut you, shoot you, every horrible punishment in the book. But I'm not going to do any of those things, if you're willing to cooperate with me." "W-what? What could I possibly offer you that you or your demons can't do yourself?" "Ordinarily you'd be right. But you have a strong connection to God, right? I want you to use that connection to help us find and capture him. He recently escaped, you see, and now he's probably gathering an army to reclaim Heaven and I simply won't stand for that happen. So, are you going to help me, or shall I throw you into a pit of lava?" Tears streamed down my face, quickly evaporated by the intense heat of this corrupted Heaven. How could I let God down? But at the same time, didn't he fail to protect me in the first place, forcing me into this situation? The Devil stamped his hooves in frustration. Time was running out. I made my decision.
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	The old man sighed deeply as he turned away from the window. Outside, the dogwood trees were in bloom and a hummingbird buzzed softly on his suger feeder. He moved his walker through the kitchen and down the hallway towards his front door. With his hand trembling as he reached up for the old set of keys that belonged to his 40 year old Toyota Corolla. He picked them off of the key hook and fumbled them into his sweatshirt front pouch. He locked the door behind him and, supported by his walker, slowly made his way towards the door on the side of his garage. He entered the door and brushed a spider web out from infront of the thin rectangular garage door button, flickering a weak orange light. The door opened and he grimaced as the sun peeked out from behind clouds. He hobbled over to the Toyota and unlocked the driver side door. It took him a few minutes to ease himself into the car seat and swing his legs into the car. He gently pushed the walker away from the door, and closed it. He sat in silence for a moment, staring at the mileage meter. 35k on the clock. He wondered idly if the gas was still good, or if the car battery was dead. He took a deep, raspy breath, and turned the key in the ignition. The pale teal Toyota started up. He spoke quietly, yet with determination to himself. "Today, I drive myself, to the corner store.. once again."	That morning was easy to get out of bed. When your intentions are clear it's so much easier to live. But that didn't mean what I'm about to do is gonna be easy, considering my age, nothing was easy. But it was simple. All I had to do was meet a bear. Or a rhinocerus. So I got up, drank cold coffee and headed for the road. There have been talks about the mountains up south, creatures that have vanished long ago from our every day life. We use to live with them in peace, respecting their life, hunting them when needed but the last centuries it all changed. All this technology, smart technology, made us dumb and iresponsible for our actions. So we became cruel, and the animals started dissapearing one by one. So If I find a bear, it will be like finding a mythological creature. But I have to. I cannot work with humans anymore. Not after the last time. Shifting bastards, until the plan was excecuted there were more victims from betrayal than we ever planned. Nobody was supposed to get hurt, and bu the end we couldn't count the victims, there were so many....
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	Thirty years ago, I had it easy. I was part of an elite group called Runners. We used to post up on corners of a busy intersection and wait for an out of control car headed towards a pedestrian. Right before the car struck, we would jump in at the last second, saving another person’s life and extending ours by another five years. All of it changed when the government started putting regulations in place to limit population growth. Vehicles were built with safeguards that prevented any accidents. Police officers, who used to put their lives on the line every day, had been replaced with drones. Access to medications and prescriptions for use outside of the hospital was prohibited to ensure there were no intentional overdoses that came close to death. The population was beginning to die out when they hit fifty. I don’t know how I’m still here today. There must not be many of us left. I’m running out of ideas on how to keep things going. My wife made it to ninety. My son kept on fighting until one hundred fifteen. If you are reading this, I am no longer here. I couldn’t figure out a way to continue to beat the system. I have one request of you though. In the top dresser drawer in the bedroom at the deserted, old wooden house on 5 Westdrid, there lies a microchip. Insert this chip into your arm packet. This chip will give you access to the names of every person I ever saved. What the government hasn’t told you is that when a person is saved by another, their packet is cleared and stays at year zero, making them immortal. You must find those I have listed and ensure they are working together so that people still need saving.	That morning was easy to get out of bed. When your intentions are clear it's so much easier to live. But that didn't mean what I'm about to do is gonna be easy, considering my age, nothing was easy. But it was simple. All I had to do was meet a bear. Or a rhinocerus. So I got up, drank cold coffee and headed for the road. There have been talks about the mountains up south, creatures that have vanished long ago from our every day life. We use to live with them in peace, respecting their life, hunting them when needed but the last centuries it all changed. All this technology, smart technology, made us dumb and iresponsible for our actions. So we became cruel, and the animals started dissapearing one by one. So If I find a bear, it will be like finding a mythological creature. But I have to. I cannot work with humans anymore. Not after the last time. Shifting bastards, until the plan was excecuted there were more victims from betrayal than we ever planned. Nobody was supposed to get hurt, and bu the end we couldn't count the victims, there were so many....
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	Dread. Fear. Concern. All those emotions rushed over me as I stared at my wrist, watching the five on it fade out and be replaced by a four. I was running out of time, just as I was so close to finishing. How many more years would I need? Even if I worked constantly, four years just wouldn't be enough. I'd need more. With a solemn step, I headed towards my study. The digit on my wrist ached out, my body knowing what was soon to occur. The rules of life overrunning any thoughts I had, only adding to that innate fear of death. That accursed tattoo every child is born with, counting down the years until their fated demise. In time, people worked out how to extend the clock. But it was risky. I knelt down at the foot of my desk, peering into the depths of it's cabinet. With sweaty palms, I entered in the code to the safe it held, and pulled out the forbidden treasure within. The cold steel of the revolver I bought nearly a century ago chilled my skin like no winter ever could. It's bullets weighed down heavier than anything I had ever felt. But it was all necessary, for to earn more time required you to risk it all. The sharp click of the chamber opening did little to calm me, nor did the silent scraping of metal against metal as I filled it. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. The whirr of the chamber deafened out by my pounding heart. My gaze drifted back to the death stamp on my wrist. I should only need to do it once more, and then I could let it drain to zero. Just once more. Once more... Once more... With a deep breath, I raised the muzzle to my skull. Trembling fingers threatened to misfire, failing to be put at ease by the unfortunate familiarity of the action, nor the potential of the result. Click!	That morning was easy to get out of bed. When your intentions are clear it's so much easier to live. But that didn't mean what I'm about to do is gonna be easy, considering my age, nothing was easy. But it was simple. All I had to do was meet a bear. Or a rhinocerus. So I got up, drank cold coffee and headed for the road. There have been talks about the mountains up south, creatures that have vanished long ago from our every day life. We use to live with them in peace, respecting their life, hunting them when needed but the last centuries it all changed. All this technology, smart technology, made us dumb and iresponsible for our actions. So we became cruel, and the animals started dissapearing one by one. So If I find a bear, it will be like finding a mythological creature. But I have to. I cannot work with humans anymore. Not after the last time. Shifting bastards, until the plan was excecuted there were more victims from betrayal than we ever planned. Nobody was supposed to get hurt, and bu the end we couldn't count the victims, there were so many....
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	"Grandpa! Grandpa! I want another story! I want another story!" Alice sang, her blanket wrapped her like a burrito. Great Grandpa Jones wobbled over to the seat next to the bed, his cane scraped the floor as he nearly knocked off the lamp from the night stand. "Sweet dumpling, it's an important night tonight, Great Granpie Jones needs to talk to an old friend," he brushed his wrinkled hand across his grand daughter's messy hair of a forehead. "But grandpa...I can't sleep without a story," she whimpered with a pout. With a simple kiss on her forehead, Jones shambled up from his chair and went for the doorway, "I'll read you all the stories you want tomorrow, please go to sleep dearie." With a hesitant click of the lamp, Jones forced out his possible last words, "Granpie Jones will always love you, my sweet monkey." Shutting the crickety door on his way out, his face dropped and cold sweats raced down his face. The small thumbs of his cane echoed down the hallway till it tapped against his study. Inside the room was nothing extravagant, no pictures of any daring stunts or memorabilia around the world. Just a black box with a key lock, staring at him like it always does every five years. "Hello, my old friend," he said with a tint of melancholy, "you've helped me more than any other docter." With a steady shake, he uncovered a key hung on his necklace. With a simple turn of the key, the black box opened with a click. His hand disappeared inside the shadowy abyss, and out came a revolver and one bullet. "146 years, you've helped me live while everyone else perish at the young age of 50, are you ready?" His gravel voice spoke softly, as he had trouble opening the revolver and fumbled to put in the bullet a few times. CLAK, the revolver was set and with a flick of the finger, the chamber spun endlessly. Jones took a glance at the the clock and saw he only had five minutes till his death. After the chamber was settled, he put the gun against his head and took deep breaths and long exhales. Until he saw the darkness take shape, a single skull wrapped the night around it like a cloak, and its scythe like a guillotine waiting for the clock to execute. Jones breath became bewildered and faster. "Come on, come on, come on!" He said to himself, "you've done this so many times! You have to do this for monkey! What will she do without her parents? Your her only guardian! Come on, don't pussy out like her parents! That's why they died at 50 and your still alive!" He screamed his last tangent and pulled the trigger. CLICK. He fell to the ground, plopping with vigor. His wrinkled hands shrunk like heated plastic and rejuvenated with vigor. His bad leg no longer needing the discarded cane. Finally, his nemesis cackled with joy as he dissipated like a dying flame. A knock on his door shook him a bit, as his grand daughter peeked into his study. "Great grandpa...what are you doing?" With a bit of adrenaline, he jumped back onto his feet, gun hidden in front while his back stayed to the child. "Finished talking to an old friend," he said with a bit of excitement, "but now he's back at home." The black box was locked with his secret inside, and placed above his fireplace. "Grandpa...can you read me a story? Its tomorrow." Glancing at the clock, he saw the small hand past twelve, and gave a satisfied smirk as he lit the logs. "You little monkey, always twisting my words, never let that go, it may save your life one day," he chuckled as he plopped down on his rocking chair. "Alright Alice, would you like to go to Wonderland?" "YES!" She ran up and sat on his lap, snuggling his now softer skin. "Curiouser, and curiouser" he read, placing his reading glasses aside.	That morning was easy to get out of bed. When your intentions are clear it's so much easier to live. But that didn't mean what I'm about to do is gonna be easy, considering my age, nothing was easy. But it was simple. All I had to do was meet a bear. Or a rhinocerus. So I got up, drank cold coffee and headed for the road. There have been talks about the mountains up south, creatures that have vanished long ago from our every day life. We use to live with them in peace, respecting their life, hunting them when needed but the last centuries it all changed. All this technology, smart technology, made us dumb and iresponsible for our actions. So we became cruel, and the animals started dissapearing one by one. So If I find a bear, it will be like finding a mythological creature. But I have to. I cannot work with humans anymore. Not after the last time. Shifting bastards, until the plan was excecuted there were more victims from betrayal than we ever planned. Nobody was supposed to get hurt, and bu the end we couldn't count the victims, there were so many....
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	When I first met him, I was 19. I didn't think much of the quiet gentleman with a sad face and sadder eyes who stopped me, just outside of the New York world building. "'Evening, Miss Hayes," he said, quite jovially despite the downcast in his eyes and the paleness in his skin. "Good evening, mister....?" "Azrael, please." he paused, looking up at the magnificent building in thought. "You know, George Post designed this building specifically for Pulitzer, a swine with great tastes. It'd be a shame if one were to end themselves on the streets in front of his creation." He had taken me aback, who was he to talk about such a thing in public? I had begun to turn to look at him again, fear creeping up my neck. What if he knew? What if he could see in my eyes the thing I was about to commit? "Mister Az-" he was gone. The only thing left was a black rose with a red ribbon. Shaking, I picked up the rose and entered the building. My father was the head editor at the time, almost as important as Mr. Pulitzer himself, so I had free reign. No one stopped me as I emerged on the roof, rose still in hand. It smelt distinctly sweet and pungent, and reminded me of something sweet left out to rot. The streets looked so small from up here. I looked down and shook from the late evening chill, everyone looked so small and insignificant. A little closer to the edge, the parapets would surely hold me up. But what if I didn't want them to? One foot over the railing, then the other. Now, I was dangling 309 feet above the earth from New York's tallest, most glorious building. And I slipped, just ever so slightly, and would have spilled myself on the streets of New York at the tender age of 19 with no one to mourn me outside of my family and a few friends until I reached out and grabbed at the stone parapets and pulled myself up. Something in me changed, like a timer being reset. This was 127 years ago. The Pulitzer building was destroyed in 1955 in a fire with my father inside. I raised my empire from nothing and like Mr. George Post, designed the tallest building in New York, fire proof and made to withstand the worst of Earthquakes. 1,806' with no roof-top parapets. Only I, and a few repair members had access to the roof and I sat there now, with the rose in hand. I still looked nineteen, a side affect of having almost died so young, and the rose was as beautiful and pungent as ever. I'm 146 now, and it's been years since I've had to do something stupid, years since I've seen him. He changed every time, always blending in with the current fashion and always giving me little words of advice. Sometimes, I wonder how lonely it must be. Slowly, I stood up as that old song came on, one that I'd held onto long since it had become outdated. We both liked this song, had both danced to it. "Are you ready for one last dance?" came a solemn voice behind me. He was dapper, the same outfit I had fist met him in centuries ago. His hand extended out to me, and for the first time in years, he wore a sad smile. "Of course, Azrael," I replied, but when the song ended, we did not let go.	That morning was easy to get out of bed. When your intentions are clear it's so much easier to live. But that didn't mean what I'm about to do is gonna be easy, considering my age, nothing was easy. But it was simple. All I had to do was meet a bear. Or a rhinocerus. So I got up, drank cold coffee and headed for the road. There have been talks about the mountains up south, creatures that have vanished long ago from our every day life. We use to live with them in peace, respecting their life, hunting them when needed but the last centuries it all changed. All this technology, smart technology, made us dumb and iresponsible for our actions. So we became cruel, and the animals started dissapearing one by one. So If I find a bear, it will be like finding a mythological creature. But I have to. I cannot work with humans anymore. Not after the last time. Shifting bastards, until the plan was excecuted there were more victims from betrayal than we ever planned. Nobody was supposed to get hurt, and bu the end we couldn't count the victims, there were so many....
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	James sat in a waiting room thinking about his lunch. It wasn't a particularly nice waiting room, little more than a DMV really. Beige, stained carpet. Non-descript pictures of scenery that were framed for some reason. Did anyone like those? His lunch was waiting in his car in the parking garage, he had made his life- extension appointment on his break, but apparently so did several others. He was getting hungry and he really didn't want to miss his number being called, he would need to reschedule and he really didn't want to bother. The red glowing number on the wall changed. An automated voice came out of the single speaker on the wall, "47-C. 47-C" A woman from across the room waddled slowly to the window. The attendant hardly looked up from her computer, "Extension or Termination?" The woman glanced about the room for a moment before sighing, "I've been here longer than everyone I know. I think it's finally time to..." "Termination, " the attendant interrupted. "Please remove all hard metals and your shoes and step over to the door." A small bin jutted out from the counter like a bank teller and the woman slipped her sneakers off. Spoke with a touch of irritation from being cut off, "I didn't wear jewelry, it's just these." The woman strode across the stained beige carpet like a queen. James appreciated her poise in that moment, like someone who could command a board room, or stare down a senator. James envied her commitment and confidence in this moment. What he wouldn't give to be so certain that his decision was the right one. To know in his heart that no matter the outcome, he'd succeeded in life. All he felt right now was hunger, and the pit in his stomach from the ear full he was sure to get for being late from lunch. She stopped in front of the elevator double doors and waited. Moments later the chime came as the doors parted. Of course, no elevator was there, just a dimly lit shaft. The woman took a step. And she was gone. The doors slid closed with a light metallic thud. No one stirred, no one even noticed her absence. "47-D. 47-D." James walked up to the desk hurriedly, hopefully he could avoid that earful after all. "Extension. I'm extending." He blurted as he got up to the window. The attendant didn't even glance up this time, "Remove all metal object, your shoes and step up to the door." James didn't have time for this. "Look i've extended over a dozen times, can't I just take them with me? I'm in a hurry. Please?" The attendant finally looked up, but only to put him in his place. "Sir you should know safety rope is only reachable for a 3 second window. If you miss, we don't need your phone jamming up the filter. Remove all metal objects, and your shoes." She slowly slid the container open. "They will be sent to you." James angrily pulled the things from his pockets with one hand while unlacing a shoe with the other. "You know they used to have functioning parts that could handle these things. Anything to save a penny huh?" He knew they replaced the grinding wheel ages ago but he was hoping to save some time by just keeping his things with him. Blasted bueracrats. He fumbled the last of his fingers into the container and heard the swish of air as it was sent to the collection point. He marched over to the door and tapped his foot. He checked his wrist impatiently, remembering a heartbeat later that he'd just put his watch in the container. Painfully slow the elevator doors slide open. This was why the extension office was on the 35th floor downtown. Bueracrats figured out how to make even a death defying feat mundane. Unlike the old days where men went to war simply to live longer, an oxymoron to be sure. Now, it was just an elevator shaft, a rope and a fine mesh of razor wire at the bottom. He stepped carefully out, a jump could see you scraping the side of the shaft the whole way down. He knew the rope was on the 3rd floor, all he needed to do was grab it and swing thru the open door at the bottom into the cushions. 30th 28th 26th The shaft was marked every few floors. 20th 18th The floor signs started coming every floor now, and in brighter colors, warning you to get ready. 10th 9th 8th There, in bright yellow, just in arms reach was a single rope. 5th 4th He reached. 3rd And grabbed the rope with all his will, heart racing. It slid up his arm, almost cutting through the skin. 2nd It stopped sliding in his hands and he felt his shoulder pop as his weight obeyed gravity. The rope reached its apex and swung forward alarmingly. 1st He flew thru the pair of open elevator doors into the padded flooring, tumbled across it and came to a stop facing up grasping for breath. James felt his arms where the rope had burned him. As his heart stopped racing he could feel them healing. The skin coming back together, the ache in his shoulder subsiding as it mended. He stood up feeling, well, 5 years younger. He glanced around the room for the container with his things. "Fuck, i'm gonna be late." He hated getting crumbs in his car.	That morning was easy to get out of bed. When your intentions are clear it's so much easier to live. But that didn't mean what I'm about to do is gonna be easy, considering my age, nothing was easy. But it was simple. All I had to do was meet a bear. Or a rhinocerus. So I got up, drank cold coffee and headed for the road. There have been talks about the mountains up south, creatures that have vanished long ago from our every day life. We use to live with them in peace, respecting their life, hunting them when needed but the last centuries it all changed. All this technology, smart technology, made us dumb and iresponsible for our actions. So we became cruel, and the animals started dissapearing one by one. So If I find a bear, it will be like finding a mythological creature. But I have to. I cannot work with humans anymore. Not after the last time. Shifting bastards, until the plan was excecuted there were more victims from betrayal than we ever planned. Nobody was supposed to get hurt, and bu the end we couldn't count the victims, there were so many....
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	You know it's a good one when they're stopping runs every 10 minutes to remove the body parts they'd missed. It's been a fact of life for as long as history has been documented that humans can extend their lifespans by nearly dying. The major world religions are all based around the concept that their god was responsible for it. It's credited as the basis for the Jesus myth - almost dying on the cross and recovering in 5 days is accepted in theological circles as an early metaphor for Breaking. The rules as we have grown to understand them are simple: Nearly die, gain 5 years of life. Technically, it's under by 62 days, but we humans love to fudge the numbers. I've made it to 146 years old. I get interviewed by joirnalists from time to time, mainly because they want to get their name on the final interview with the oldest man to ever live. The average human will live to be about 80 years old. My closest peers tend to die out around 125 years. There was a cancer survivor who made it to 135 due to a flurry of very dicey days during his treatment. The vast majority of people need to engage in a high risk activity at least once every 5 years to extend their lives. When 'high risk' equates to a less than five percent chance of survival, your luck tends to run out pretty quickly. Today, I'm looking at the latest Zeitgeist. Once the Breaking was fairly well understood, governments started building these obstacle courses in every major city. Citizens could then book a run, say goodbye to their loved ones, and try to win an extra five years of breathing. The Zeit was 5 obstacles in a row. Each individual section had multiple ways to die. Axes, woodchippers, underwater sections, this one was a little more elaborate than the average Zeit. Make it through all that and you were guaranteed to feel your limit Break. I watched them remove an arm from the pit below the pneumatic press and contemplated my situation. About 6 months were left on my limit. I needed to experience a very close shave to Break it again. The problem was that I'd just completed the damned thing and my limit didn't change. I've gotten too freaking good at surviving. I sat down in the Broken section, screened off from the crowds, and pondered my situation. For the average runner, a Zeit has a 1% survival rate. They make it to the end, boom, they hear their limit Break. My odds seem to have shifted during my 96 years of training and running these courses. Enough so that my limit didn't see it as near death. My limit must have thought this was just another Tuesday. It felt good to have completed the run, though. My muscles were aching, I was tired beyond belief, and I did not react fast enough when my chair broke. I toppled backwards, landing heavily on my back, and felt my limit Break. I lay still, looking at the dreary sky, listening to the next runner getting minced or barbecued or something. I slowly turned my head to the left. Very pointy spike of metal sticking into the air. Turned to the right. A live blasting cap right infront of my eye. I'd fallen backwards onto the spare parts pile for the Zeitgeist, an assortment of the deadliest unused devices the engineers could think of. And I survived!	That morning was easy to get out of bed. When your intentions are clear it's so much easier to live. But that didn't mean what I'm about to do is gonna be easy, considering my age, nothing was easy. But it was simple. All I had to do was meet a bear. Or a rhinocerus. So I got up, drank cold coffee and headed for the road. There have been talks about the mountains up south, creatures that have vanished long ago from our every day life. We use to live with them in peace, respecting their life, hunting them when needed but the last centuries it all changed. All this technology, smart technology, made us dumb and iresponsible for our actions. So we became cruel, and the animals started dissapearing one by one. So If I find a bear, it will be like finding a mythological creature. But I have to. I cannot work with humans anymore. Not after the last time. Shifting bastards, until the plan was excecuted there were more victims from betrayal than we ever planned. Nobody was supposed to get hurt, and bu the end we couldn't count the victims, there were so many....
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	The old man sighed deeply as he turned away from the window. Outside, the dogwood trees were in bloom and a hummingbird buzzed softly on his suger feeder. He moved his walker through the kitchen and down the hallway towards his front door. With his hand trembling as he reached up for the old set of keys that belonged to his 40 year old Toyota Corolla. He picked them off of the key hook and fumbled them into his sweatshirt front pouch. He locked the door behind him and, supported by his walker, slowly made his way towards the door on the side of his garage. He entered the door and brushed a spider web out from infront of the thin rectangular garage door button, flickering a weak orange light. The door opened and he grimaced as the sun peeked out from behind clouds. He hobbled over to the Toyota and unlocked the driver side door. It took him a few minutes to ease himself into the car seat and swing his legs into the car. He gently pushed the walker away from the door, and closed it. He sat in silence for a moment, staring at the mileage meter. 35k on the clock. He wondered idly if the gas was still good, or if the car battery was dead. He took a deep, raspy breath, and turned the key in the ignition. The pale teal Toyota started up. He spoke quietly, yet with determination to himself. "Today, I drive myself, to the corner store.. once again."	"You are such a cheat",mom's words echoed in my ears. I didn't want to spoil the experience, so i distracted myself with another memory of eating oranges while playing the piano while my golden furred cat sat next to my feet. The sunlight falling in fringes on her and my feet. "Ah. That was nice," I murmured to myself. This was the moment. I was content. I began immediately. Surprise was the key. I gave the signal. Ralph, my boyfriend... Yes my 105 year old boyfriend responded immediately and activated the mechanism for strangling. I didn't breathe so that the effects would come faster. I began choking. I was holding my breath. I was ready. But something was wrong. The nearly died meter was not even slightly red. Why was that? Was the meter malfunctioning? Ralph followed my gaze and looked at the meter. He looked back at me. It took a moment for the feelings of Puzzlement and slight alarm to register on his face. He smiled at me and raised an eyebrow and wiggled it. I tried to smile back, but ended up grimacing. I was not one of the brave people that my mom respected so much. I hated risking my life. But it was a part of my life, so like the other cowards i used cheap contraptions to come near death and when the fear was at its peak, the nearly dead meter, turned crimson and beeped to show that i had passed and that five years had been added to my lifespan. It was a feeling of relief. I should have gotten used to it by now, i was 146 years old. I still had four years to pass the test, but i wanted to be done with it. Which was why we were in the present situation. I was feeling slightly uncomfortable, and i knew that the fear was beginning. Yet the nearly dead metre was still set to zero just orange. What was the matter. i looked questioningly at Ralph and he shrugged.
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	Thirty years ago, I had it easy. I was part of an elite group called Runners. We used to post up on corners of a busy intersection and wait for an out of control car headed towards a pedestrian. Right before the car struck, we would jump in at the last second, saving another person’s life and extending ours by another five years. All of it changed when the government started putting regulations in place to limit population growth. Vehicles were built with safeguards that prevented any accidents. Police officers, who used to put their lives on the line every day, had been replaced with drones. Access to medications and prescriptions for use outside of the hospital was prohibited to ensure there were no intentional overdoses that came close to death. The population was beginning to die out when they hit fifty. I don’t know how I’m still here today. There must not be many of us left. I’m running out of ideas on how to keep things going. My wife made it to ninety. My son kept on fighting until one hundred fifteen. If you are reading this, I am no longer here. I couldn’t figure out a way to continue to beat the system. I have one request of you though. In the top dresser drawer in the bedroom at the deserted, old wooden house on 5 Westdrid, there lies a microchip. Insert this chip into your arm packet. This chip will give you access to the names of every person I ever saved. What the government hasn’t told you is that when a person is saved by another, their packet is cleared and stays at year zero, making them immortal. You must find those I have listed and ensure they are working together so that people still need saving.	"You are such a cheat",mom's words echoed in my ears. I didn't want to spoil the experience, so i distracted myself with another memory of eating oranges while playing the piano while my golden furred cat sat next to my feet. The sunlight falling in fringes on her and my feet. "Ah. That was nice," I murmured to myself. This was the moment. I was content. I began immediately. Surprise was the key. I gave the signal. Ralph, my boyfriend... Yes my 105 year old boyfriend responded immediately and activated the mechanism for strangling. I didn't breathe so that the effects would come faster. I began choking. I was holding my breath. I was ready. But something was wrong. The nearly died meter was not even slightly red. Why was that? Was the meter malfunctioning? Ralph followed my gaze and looked at the meter. He looked back at me. It took a moment for the feelings of Puzzlement and slight alarm to register on his face. He smiled at me and raised an eyebrow and wiggled it. I tried to smile back, but ended up grimacing. I was not one of the brave people that my mom respected so much. I hated risking my life. But it was a part of my life, so like the other cowards i used cheap contraptions to come near death and when the fear was at its peak, the nearly dead meter, turned crimson and beeped to show that i had passed and that five years had been added to my lifespan. It was a feeling of relief. I should have gotten used to it by now, i was 146 years old. I still had four years to pass the test, but i wanted to be done with it. Which was why we were in the present situation. I was feeling slightly uncomfortable, and i knew that the fear was beginning. Yet the nearly dead metre was still set to zero just orange. What was the matter. i looked questioningly at Ralph and he shrugged.
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	The old man sighed deeply as he turned away from the window. Outside, the dogwood trees were in bloom and a hummingbird buzzed softly on his suger feeder. He moved his walker through the kitchen and down the hallway towards his front door. With his hand trembling as he reached up for the old set of keys that belonged to his 40 year old Toyota Corolla. He picked them off of the key hook and fumbled them into his sweatshirt front pouch. He locked the door behind him and, supported by his walker, slowly made his way towards the door on the side of his garage. He entered the door and brushed a spider web out from infront of the thin rectangular garage door button, flickering a weak orange light. The door opened and he grimaced as the sun peeked out from behind clouds. He hobbled over to the Toyota and unlocked the driver side door. It took him a few minutes to ease himself into the car seat and swing his legs into the car. He gently pushed the walker away from the door, and closed it. He sat in silence for a moment, staring at the mileage meter. 35k on the clock. He wondered idly if the gas was still good, or if the car battery was dead. He took a deep, raspy breath, and turned the key in the ignition. The pale teal Toyota started up. He spoke quietly, yet with determination to himself. "Today, I drive myself, to the corner store.. once again."	Henry was standing and looking in the mirror. Standing hurts now. Everything does. As he gets closer to the time that he’s going to expire he can feel it. It’s strange how it works, you feel the age you were of your first heroic act that extended your life. Which meant that Henry felt like he was 15 until last year. This day was ending and he was dressing down and getting ready to relax for the day. Henry was born in 1874, and joined the US military at the age of 15. Just in time to fight in the Spanish-American war. He was awarded the highest honors for his actions in that war. His actions saved the lives of thousands on more than one occasion. His actions in that war added 50 years to his life. Henry was still looking in the mirror at the sparse whisker growth on his face. One of the great things about being 15 was that you never needed to shave. He’s one of the few. Most people live their 50 years and that’s it. Not even any veterans had lived as long as him. Although many of his friends from the Spanish-American war were with him in World War I, not many actually made it through to World War II. Between his actions in those wars, and Korea and Vietnam, he has been able to make it to now. 146 years old, still looks like he did the day of his first heroic act. He hasn’t been in the military since the1970’s. He couldn’t deal with the way the public had turned then. He went from being the hero to the baby-killer. That alone was enough for him to realize the time had come to hang it up. His biggest problem since has been trying to figure out the best way to keep it going. Being the oldest surviving military veteren of all the conflicts since the Spanish American war does have its perks. All of his family gets the best educations provided by the military academies of their choice. Winning multiple Congressional Medals of Honor will do that for you. Also he does still command a large amount of celebrity in the military community because he was actually on the ground for the evolution of the military from the 1890’s all the way through to the 1970’s. That experience has led to the US making innovations in military tech and tactics that has saved hundreds of thousands of lives. That doesn’t actually require you to do anything life threateningly heroic. It also doesn’t solve Henry’s current problem. He can feel the end coming for him. He’s never hurt before like this. Even with his injuries from all that service and all those missions. He thinks he probably has until his 150th birthday before it’s done. He never remarried after Elizabeth passed away in 1930. Just couldn’t do it. All his kids had died in the 1950’s, his grandkids in the 1970’s, his great-grandkids in the 1990’s and his great-great-grandkids in the 2010’s. Here it is 2020. He still looks like he is 15 and his great-great-grandkids are in their 30’s and 40’s. Maybe this old thing has gone on long enough, his great-great-great-grandkids look like they are his age and he has 58 of them to keep track of. Another generation and there will likely be over 100 new people to keep up with. It’s strange to him that none of his family has ever gone into battle like he did. He thinks it’s because the upper echelons of the military apparatus were worried that he would have too much sway in the power structure. All of his relatives had gone through the academies and then become titans of industry in their time. However he is the only one to live past 50. At that moment still standing there staring into the mirror, Henry decided he wouldn’t try to extend his life again. He loved his family, lived a good life and contributed more to the world than any other Army Vet in the history of the United States. Life is good and has been fulfilling. Henry decided he wasn’t going to shave and get ready to go out this evening. Instead, he poured himself 3 fingers of Rebecca Creek whiskey, and lit a cigar. Tonight he’s going to watch the sunset.
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	Thirty years ago, I had it easy. I was part of an elite group called Runners. We used to post up on corners of a busy intersection and wait for an out of control car headed towards a pedestrian. Right before the car struck, we would jump in at the last second, saving another person’s life and extending ours by another five years. All of it changed when the government started putting regulations in place to limit population growth. Vehicles were built with safeguards that prevented any accidents. Police officers, who used to put their lives on the line every day, had been replaced with drones. Access to medications and prescriptions for use outside of the hospital was prohibited to ensure there were no intentional overdoses that came close to death. The population was beginning to die out when they hit fifty. I don’t know how I’m still here today. There must not be many of us left. I’m running out of ideas on how to keep things going. My wife made it to ninety. My son kept on fighting until one hundred fifteen. If you are reading this, I am no longer here. I couldn’t figure out a way to continue to beat the system. I have one request of you though. In the top dresser drawer in the bedroom at the deserted, old wooden house on 5 Westdrid, there lies a microchip. Insert this chip into your arm packet. This chip will give you access to the names of every person I ever saved. What the government hasn’t told you is that when a person is saved by another, their packet is cleared and stays at year zero, making them immortal. You must find those I have listed and ensure they are working together so that people still need saving.	Henry was standing and looking in the mirror. Standing hurts now. Everything does. As he gets closer to the time that he’s going to expire he can feel it. It’s strange how it works, you feel the age you were of your first heroic act that extended your life. Which meant that Henry felt like he was 15 until last year. This day was ending and he was dressing down and getting ready to relax for the day. Henry was born in 1874, and joined the US military at the age of 15. Just in time to fight in the Spanish-American war. He was awarded the highest honors for his actions in that war. His actions saved the lives of thousands on more than one occasion. His actions in that war added 50 years to his life. Henry was still looking in the mirror at the sparse whisker growth on his face. One of the great things about being 15 was that you never needed to shave. He’s one of the few. Most people live their 50 years and that’s it. Not even any veterans had lived as long as him. Although many of his friends from the Spanish-American war were with him in World War I, not many actually made it through to World War II. Between his actions in those wars, and Korea and Vietnam, he has been able to make it to now. 146 years old, still looks like he did the day of his first heroic act. He hasn’t been in the military since the1970’s. He couldn’t deal with the way the public had turned then. He went from being the hero to the baby-killer. That alone was enough for him to realize the time had come to hang it up. His biggest problem since has been trying to figure out the best way to keep it going. Being the oldest surviving military veteren of all the conflicts since the Spanish American war does have its perks. All of his family gets the best educations provided by the military academies of their choice. Winning multiple Congressional Medals of Honor will do that for you. Also he does still command a large amount of celebrity in the military community because he was actually on the ground for the evolution of the military from the 1890’s all the way through to the 1970’s. That experience has led to the US making innovations in military tech and tactics that has saved hundreds of thousands of lives. That doesn’t actually require you to do anything life threateningly heroic. It also doesn’t solve Henry’s current problem. He can feel the end coming for him. He’s never hurt before like this. Even with his injuries from all that service and all those missions. He thinks he probably has until his 150th birthday before it’s done. He never remarried after Elizabeth passed away in 1930. Just couldn’t do it. All his kids had died in the 1950’s, his grandkids in the 1970’s, his great-grandkids in the 1990’s and his great-great-grandkids in the 2010’s. Here it is 2020. He still looks like he is 15 and his great-great-grandkids are in their 30’s and 40’s. Maybe this old thing has gone on long enough, his great-great-great-grandkids look like they are his age and he has 58 of them to keep track of. Another generation and there will likely be over 100 new people to keep up with. It’s strange to him that none of his family has ever gone into battle like he did. He thinks it’s because the upper echelons of the military apparatus were worried that he would have too much sway in the power structure. All of his relatives had gone through the academies and then become titans of industry in their time. However he is the only one to live past 50. At that moment still standing there staring into the mirror, Henry decided he wouldn’t try to extend his life again. He loved his family, lived a good life and contributed more to the world than any other Army Vet in the history of the United States. Life is good and has been fulfilling. Henry decided he wasn’t going to shave and get ready to go out this evening. Instead, he poured himself 3 fingers of Rebecca Creek whiskey, and lit a cigar. Tonight he’s going to watch the sunset.
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	Thirty years ago, I had it easy. I was part of an elite group called Runners. We used to post up on corners of a busy intersection and wait for an out of control car headed towards a pedestrian. Right before the car struck, we would jump in at the last second, saving another person’s life and extending ours by another five years. All of it changed when the government started putting regulations in place to limit population growth. Vehicles were built with safeguards that prevented any accidents. Police officers, who used to put their lives on the line every day, had been replaced with drones. Access to medications and prescriptions for use outside of the hospital was prohibited to ensure there were no intentional overdoses that came close to death. The population was beginning to die out when they hit fifty. I don’t know how I’m still here today. There must not be many of us left. I’m running out of ideas on how to keep things going. My wife made it to ninety. My son kept on fighting until one hundred fifteen. If you are reading this, I am no longer here. I couldn’t figure out a way to continue to beat the system. I have one request of you though. In the top dresser drawer in the bedroom at the deserted, old wooden house on 5 Westdrid, there lies a microchip. Insert this chip into your arm packet. This chip will give you access to the names of every person I ever saved. What the government hasn’t told you is that when a person is saved by another, their packet is cleared and stays at year zero, making them immortal. You must find those I have listed and ensure they are working together so that people still need saving.	The old man sighed deeply as he turned away from the window. Outside, the dogwood trees were in bloom and a hummingbird buzzed softly on his suger feeder. He moved his walker through the kitchen and down the hallway towards his front door. With his hand trembling as he reached up for the old set of keys that belonged to his 40 year old Toyota Corolla. He picked them off of the key hook and fumbled them into his sweatshirt front pouch. He locked the door behind him and, supported by his walker, slowly made his way towards the door on the side of his garage. He entered the door and brushed a spider web out from infront of the thin rectangular garage door button, flickering a weak orange light. The door opened and he grimaced as the sun peeked out from behind clouds. He hobbled over to the Toyota and unlocked the driver side door. It took him a few minutes to ease himself into the car seat and swing his legs into the car. He gently pushed the walker away from the door, and closed it. He sat in silence for a moment, staring at the mileage meter. 35k on the clock. He wondered idly if the gas was still good, or if the car battery was dead. He took a deep, raspy breath, and turned the key in the ignition. The pale teal Toyota started up. He spoke quietly, yet with determination to himself. "Today, I drive myself, to the corner store.. once again."
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	"Grandpa! Grandpa! I want another story! I want another story!" Alice sang, her blanket wrapped her like a burrito. Great Grandpa Jones wobbled over to the seat next to the bed, his cane scraped the floor as he nearly knocked off the lamp from the night stand. "Sweet dumpling, it's an important night tonight, Great Granpie Jones needs to talk to an old friend," he brushed his wrinkled hand across his grand daughter's messy hair of a forehead. "But grandpa...I can't sleep without a story," she whimpered with a pout. With a simple kiss on her forehead, Jones shambled up from his chair and went for the doorway, "I'll read you all the stories you want tomorrow, please go to sleep dearie." With a hesitant click of the lamp, Jones forced out his possible last words, "Granpie Jones will always love you, my sweet monkey." Shutting the crickety door on his way out, his face dropped and cold sweats raced down his face. The small thumbs of his cane echoed down the hallway till it tapped against his study. Inside the room was nothing extravagant, no pictures of any daring stunts or memorabilia around the world. Just a black box with a key lock, staring at him like it always does every five years. "Hello, my old friend," he said with a tint of melancholy, "you've helped me more than any other docter." With a steady shake, he uncovered a key hung on his necklace. With a simple turn of the key, the black box opened with a click. His hand disappeared inside the shadowy abyss, and out came a revolver and one bullet. "146 years, you've helped me live while everyone else perish at the young age of 50, are you ready?" His gravel voice spoke softly, as he had trouble opening the revolver and fumbled to put in the bullet a few times. CLAK, the revolver was set and with a flick of the finger, the chamber spun endlessly. Jones took a glance at the the clock and saw he only had five minutes till his death. After the chamber was settled, he put the gun against his head and took deep breaths and long exhales. Until he saw the darkness take shape, a single skull wrapped the night around it like a cloak, and its scythe like a guillotine waiting for the clock to execute. Jones breath became bewildered and faster. "Come on, come on, come on!" He said to himself, "you've done this so many times! You have to do this for monkey! What will she do without her parents? Your her only guardian! Come on, don't pussy out like her parents! That's why they died at 50 and your still alive!" He screamed his last tangent and pulled the trigger. CLICK. He fell to the ground, plopping with vigor. His wrinkled hands shrunk like heated plastic and rejuvenated with vigor. His bad leg no longer needing the discarded cane. Finally, his nemesis cackled with joy as he dissipated like a dying flame. A knock on his door shook him a bit, as his grand daughter peeked into his study. "Great grandpa...what are you doing?" With a bit of adrenaline, he jumped back onto his feet, gun hidden in front while his back stayed to the child. "Finished talking to an old friend," he said with a bit of excitement, "but now he's back at home." The black box was locked with his secret inside, and placed above his fireplace. "Grandpa...can you read me a story? Its tomorrow." Glancing at the clock, he saw the small hand past twelve, and gave a satisfied smirk as he lit the logs. "You little monkey, always twisting my words, never let that go, it may save your life one day," he chuckled as he plopped down on his rocking chair. "Alright Alice, would you like to go to Wonderland?" "YES!" She ran up and sat on his lap, snuggling his now softer skin. "Curiouser, and curiouser" he read, placing his reading glasses aside.	Dread. Fear. Concern. All those emotions rushed over me as I stared at my wrist, watching the five on it fade out and be replaced by a four. I was running out of time, just as I was so close to finishing. How many more years would I need? Even if I worked constantly, four years just wouldn't be enough. I'd need more. With a solemn step, I headed towards my study. The digit on my wrist ached out, my body knowing what was soon to occur. The rules of life overrunning any thoughts I had, only adding to that innate fear of death. That accursed tattoo every child is born with, counting down the years until their fated demise. In time, people worked out how to extend the clock. But it was risky. I knelt down at the foot of my desk, peering into the depths of it's cabinet. With sweaty palms, I entered in the code to the safe it held, and pulled out the forbidden treasure within. The cold steel of the revolver I bought nearly a century ago chilled my skin like no winter ever could. It's bullets weighed down heavier than anything I had ever felt. But it was all necessary, for to earn more time required you to risk it all. The sharp click of the chamber opening did little to calm me, nor did the silent scraping of metal against metal as I filled it. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. The whirr of the chamber deafened out by my pounding heart. My gaze drifted back to the death stamp on my wrist. I should only need to do it once more, and then I could let it drain to zero. Just once more. Once more... Once more... With a deep breath, I raised the muzzle to my skull. Trembling fingers threatened to misfire, failing to be put at ease by the unfortunate familiarity of the action, nor the potential of the result. Click!
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	When I first met him, I was 19. I didn't think much of the quiet gentleman with a sad face and sadder eyes who stopped me, just outside of the New York world building. "'Evening, Miss Hayes," he said, quite jovially despite the downcast in his eyes and the paleness in his skin. "Good evening, mister....?" "Azrael, please." he paused, looking up at the magnificent building in thought. "You know, George Post designed this building specifically for Pulitzer, a swine with great tastes. It'd be a shame if one were to end themselves on the streets in front of his creation." He had taken me aback, who was he to talk about such a thing in public? I had begun to turn to look at him again, fear creeping up my neck. What if he knew? What if he could see in my eyes the thing I was about to commit? "Mister Az-" he was gone. The only thing left was a black rose with a red ribbon. Shaking, I picked up the rose and entered the building. My father was the head editor at the time, almost as important as Mr. Pulitzer himself, so I had free reign. No one stopped me as I emerged on the roof, rose still in hand. It smelt distinctly sweet and pungent, and reminded me of something sweet left out to rot. The streets looked so small from up here. I looked down and shook from the late evening chill, everyone looked so small and insignificant. A little closer to the edge, the parapets would surely hold me up. But what if I didn't want them to? One foot over the railing, then the other. Now, I was dangling 309 feet above the earth from New York's tallest, most glorious building. And I slipped, just ever so slightly, and would have spilled myself on the streets of New York at the tender age of 19 with no one to mourn me outside of my family and a few friends until I reached out and grabbed at the stone parapets and pulled myself up. Something in me changed, like a timer being reset. This was 127 years ago. The Pulitzer building was destroyed in 1955 in a fire with my father inside. I raised my empire from nothing and like Mr. George Post, designed the tallest building in New York, fire proof and made to withstand the worst of Earthquakes. 1,806' with no roof-top parapets. Only I, and a few repair members had access to the roof and I sat there now, with the rose in hand. I still looked nineteen, a side affect of having almost died so young, and the rose was as beautiful and pungent as ever. I'm 146 now, and it's been years since I've had to do something stupid, years since I've seen him. He changed every time, always blending in with the current fashion and always giving me little words of advice. Sometimes, I wonder how lonely it must be. Slowly, I stood up as that old song came on, one that I'd held onto long since it had become outdated. We both liked this song, had both danced to it. "Are you ready for one last dance?" came a solemn voice behind me. He was dapper, the same outfit I had fist met him in centuries ago. His hand extended out to me, and for the first time in years, he wore a sad smile. "Of course, Azrael," I replied, but when the song ended, we did not let go.	Dread. Fear. Concern. All those emotions rushed over me as I stared at my wrist, watching the five on it fade out and be replaced by a four. I was running out of time, just as I was so close to finishing. How many more years would I need? Even if I worked constantly, four years just wouldn't be enough. I'd need more. With a solemn step, I headed towards my study. The digit on my wrist ached out, my body knowing what was soon to occur. The rules of life overrunning any thoughts I had, only adding to that innate fear of death. That accursed tattoo every child is born with, counting down the years until their fated demise. In time, people worked out how to extend the clock. But it was risky. I knelt down at the foot of my desk, peering into the depths of it's cabinet. With sweaty palms, I entered in the code to the safe it held, and pulled out the forbidden treasure within. The cold steel of the revolver I bought nearly a century ago chilled my skin like no winter ever could. It's bullets weighed down heavier than anything I had ever felt. But it was all necessary, for to earn more time required you to risk it all. The sharp click of the chamber opening did little to calm me, nor did the silent scraping of metal against metal as I filled it. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. The whirr of the chamber deafened out by my pounding heart. My gaze drifted back to the death stamp on my wrist. I should only need to do it once more, and then I could let it drain to zero. Just once more. Once more... Once more... With a deep breath, I raised the muzzle to my skull. Trembling fingers threatened to misfire, failing to be put at ease by the unfortunate familiarity of the action, nor the potential of the result. Click!
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	James sat in a waiting room thinking about his lunch. It wasn't a particularly nice waiting room, little more than a DMV really. Beige, stained carpet. Non-descript pictures of scenery that were framed for some reason. Did anyone like those? His lunch was waiting in his car in the parking garage, he had made his life- extension appointment on his break, but apparently so did several others. He was getting hungry and he really didn't want to miss his number being called, he would need to reschedule and he really didn't want to bother. The red glowing number on the wall changed. An automated voice came out of the single speaker on the wall, "47-C. 47-C" A woman from across the room waddled slowly to the window. The attendant hardly looked up from her computer, "Extension or Termination?" The woman glanced about the room for a moment before sighing, "I've been here longer than everyone I know. I think it's finally time to..." "Termination, " the attendant interrupted. "Please remove all hard metals and your shoes and step over to the door." A small bin jutted out from the counter like a bank teller and the woman slipped her sneakers off. Spoke with a touch of irritation from being cut off, "I didn't wear jewelry, it's just these." The woman strode across the stained beige carpet like a queen. James appreciated her poise in that moment, like someone who could command a board room, or stare down a senator. James envied her commitment and confidence in this moment. What he wouldn't give to be so certain that his decision was the right one. To know in his heart that no matter the outcome, he'd succeeded in life. All he felt right now was hunger, and the pit in his stomach from the ear full he was sure to get for being late from lunch. She stopped in front of the elevator double doors and waited. Moments later the chime came as the doors parted. Of course, no elevator was there, just a dimly lit shaft. The woman took a step. And she was gone. The doors slid closed with a light metallic thud. No one stirred, no one even noticed her absence. "47-D. 47-D." James walked up to the desk hurriedly, hopefully he could avoid that earful after all. "Extension. I'm extending." He blurted as he got up to the window. The attendant didn't even glance up this time, "Remove all metal object, your shoes and step up to the door." James didn't have time for this. "Look i've extended over a dozen times, can't I just take them with me? I'm in a hurry. Please?" The attendant finally looked up, but only to put him in his place. "Sir you should know safety rope is only reachable for a 3 second window. If you miss, we don't need your phone jamming up the filter. Remove all metal objects, and your shoes." She slowly slid the container open. "They will be sent to you." James angrily pulled the things from his pockets with one hand while unlacing a shoe with the other. "You know they used to have functioning parts that could handle these things. Anything to save a penny huh?" He knew they replaced the grinding wheel ages ago but he was hoping to save some time by just keeping his things with him. Blasted bueracrats. He fumbled the last of his fingers into the container and heard the swish of air as it was sent to the collection point. He marched over to the door and tapped his foot. He checked his wrist impatiently, remembering a heartbeat later that he'd just put his watch in the container. Painfully slow the elevator doors slide open. This was why the extension office was on the 35th floor downtown. Bueracrats figured out how to make even a death defying feat mundane. Unlike the old days where men went to war simply to live longer, an oxymoron to be sure. Now, it was just an elevator shaft, a rope and a fine mesh of razor wire at the bottom. He stepped carefully out, a jump could see you scraping the side of the shaft the whole way down. He knew the rope was on the 3rd floor, all he needed to do was grab it and swing thru the open door at the bottom into the cushions. 30th 28th 26th The shaft was marked every few floors. 20th 18th The floor signs started coming every floor now, and in brighter colors, warning you to get ready. 10th 9th 8th There, in bright yellow, just in arms reach was a single rope. 5th 4th He reached. 3rd And grabbed the rope with all his will, heart racing. It slid up his arm, almost cutting through the skin. 2nd It stopped sliding in his hands and he felt his shoulder pop as his weight obeyed gravity. The rope reached its apex and swung forward alarmingly. 1st He flew thru the pair of open elevator doors into the padded flooring, tumbled across it and came to a stop facing up grasping for breath. James felt his arms where the rope had burned him. As his heart stopped racing he could feel them healing. The skin coming back together, the ache in his shoulder subsiding as it mended. He stood up feeling, well, 5 years younger. He glanced around the room for the container with his things. "Fuck, i'm gonna be late." He hated getting crumbs in his car.	I thought to myself "this next one must be quite \shocking\" as my mind buzzed with electricity-related feats, thinking about how this one is going to be my 20th feat. my mind wandered to standard shenanigans like a literally overpowered game of operation, or to swing from live wire to live wire, being extra sure not to grab two at a time so as to not cause death, or a lightning strike, or a toaster bathbomb challenge, or... &#x200B; or what? is this actually going to be my 20th death-defying feat? has it already been nearly two centuries? my god does time fly...wait...flight... yea, sure, I'll think of something else electricity later. but for now, I'll try to survive terminal velocity without a parachute...on hard ground. fun!
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	Death takes us all. Eventually. Sometimes more than once. See. The thing about anything “life threatening”, is that it’s traumatic. The mind and body are damaged to an extent. This all depends on the situation. Recovery from this trauma can be quick, or it can be never. Only the trauma is guaranteed. So the first time I almost died, a little piece of me managed to. The taxi was a masterpiece. Paid some idiot twice his usual fare to be at a certain place, at a certain time, on a certain day. Simple as that. I was there ten minutes early, and managed to get in a very violent altercation with the local homeless man normally occupying the near-by bus stop. And what would you know, he decided to push me in front of the on-coming taxi. The taxi already slowing down to stop. Hit my head on the hood pretty hard, but I was fine. The taxi driver wasn’t. He was livid. You can get a pretty penny for helping someone almost die. Sucker. The next time was easier. And so was the next. Back alleyways are a good bet. So is being an asshole. Used to have a guy that I worked with. He’d make sure the beatings stopped at almost dead. Every now and then we’d trade off. Until one day he went out by himself. Got attacked by a bear. I know, right? Did a little time in the service. As they say, patriotism is its own reward. Cheap bastards. Yet, here I am. Once again, at the end of my rope, looking for my next fix. But what can I do? Aging is slow, but not that slow. I can’t take an ass whooping like I used to. Im too old for the service. I already got a solid decade or two off of cancer, and the doc says the next one will kill me. So what to do? Kind of difficult picking a cushy way to almost die. The two are often mutually exclusive. All the old friends finally bought the real bullet, and if I’m being honest, finding new suckers to scam is a bit stressful, and I already milked that for all it’s worth. Flatlined on the table off of that one. So what can I do? Wait. Lightbulb. Hey, Sharon? Yeah, it’s me. Yeah, I missed you too. What? No! Of course, I’m not mad about the house anymore. And since you admitted to it, the insurance covered everything anyway. Yeah! Got a whole new couch. Fireproof and everything. But anyway, I was wondering. You wouldn’t happen to be free for lunch tomorrow would you? I was up late doing some thinking, and I realized something. It’s been a while.	I thought to myself "this next one must be quite \shocking\" as my mind buzzed with electricity-related feats, thinking about how this one is going to be my 20th feat. my mind wandered to standard shenanigans like a literally overpowered game of operation, or to swing from live wire to live wire, being extra sure not to grab two at a time so as to not cause death, or a lightning strike, or a toaster bathbomb challenge, or... &#x200B; or what? is this actually going to be my 20th death-defying feat? has it already been nearly two centuries? my god does time fly...wait...flight... yea, sure, I'll think of something else electricity later. but for now, I'll try to survive terminal velocity without a parachute...on hard ground. fun!
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	“Hey,hey, grandma!” A boy with shaggy brown hair sat down next to our protagonist, pining her with an eager look. “C’mon, tell me! What’s your next trick gonna be?” Unfortunately, Danniela Brown’s family and friends seemed to think that she was some sort of Houdini who could pull off any kind of stunt without so much as twitching. This may be due to the fact that her only remaining family were all rather young, seeing as even her own children had already passed away. Danni, meanwhile, had continued to live day after day, wondering about just how many of her kin she would outlast. It was sadder than most people seemed to think. How she’d gotten into her predicament, Danny had no idea. Actually, as a younger human, Danni had been certain she was going to die the first few times she’d forcefully exposed herself to near-death situations, but had gotten out alive thanks to sheer dumb luck. After the sixth time this had happened, she’d gradually gained fame, until people had started to jokingly call her “the Girl Who Lived”. Danni did not appreciate the comparison with certain literary heroes, but she could admit that both her and Harry Potter had sheer dumb luck as a common denominator. Unfortunately, after becoming famous, with the eyes of the world trained on her, dying had become harder. Scientists had become invested in her survival and usually made sure that Danni didn’t pass away those few times that she actually nearly had. Danni wasn’t sure whether to appreciate their efforts or hate them for making her into their little lab experiment. Next came the stalkers and the people set on killing her to prove that they were special. With so many crooks and scumbags trying to see if they lucked out, Danni usually found herself in mortal peril more than once every five years. It was maddening, especially because the media treated her life like a TV show. However, now she was almost a hundred and fifty, had moved far away into the lost regions of rural Appalachia, where no one would look for her. Distance from everything had worked, as no one had tried to maim her in the past five years. And now Danni stood before a choice: should she try her luck again at surviving – because that was what it was, what she did – or should she simply settle for going to sleep one day and continuing to for all of eternity? She knew her grandchildren would be devastated. But she couldn’t help the cynical voice in her mind that wondered whether they’d miss their grandmother or the celebrity. “So, granny? What’s your new trick gonna be?” She tuned back in to find her grandson shaking her gleefully. “What do you want it to be?” asked Danni. “Hm. Oh, I know! Slay a boa constrictor!” “I am not going to give people more reasons to compare me with Harry Potter.” “Then jump from a helicopter into a tank full of sharks!” Danni sighed, poking him. “I’ll think about it, Max.” Annoyed, Max wrestled the TV remote from her grip and turned to watch his favourite cartoon. Danni busied herself with existential questions. It was then that it suddenly happened: a strange noise shook Danni out of her reverie, and she looked up to find Max’s cartoon replaced by a very serious-looking man in a suit. “I am the representative of the national security commission. This life video is being broadcasted to all stations – the matter that I will discus one of maximum security. A new race has been discovered to have infiltrated our planet. As of yet we do not know what they are, but we know one thing. They have the ability to take over a human body. There are no tells but for one: they do not need to get close to death every five years, and they lack the ability to properly express emotions.” “That’s two tells!” Max yelled out, but Danni shushed him. “We call them… parasites,” the man in the suit continued. “If you suspect someone to be a parasite – do not confront them, I repeat, do not confront them. Call the following number Xx-xxxxxx, and we will look into it. And, one last thing. Humans over a hundred are especially coveted by the parasites. Should you see someone who meets this requirements, also inform us immediately. That is all. Thank you for your attention.” There was just one problem, only one human was currently over a hundred, and that was Danni herself. “Shit,” she cursed. “Grandma?” “They’ll be coming.”	I thought to myself "this next one must be quite \shocking\" as my mind buzzed with electricity-related feats, thinking about how this one is going to be my 20th feat. my mind wandered to standard shenanigans like a literally overpowered game of operation, or to swing from live wire to live wire, being extra sure not to grab two at a time so as to not cause death, or a lightning strike, or a toaster bathbomb challenge, or... &#x200B; or what? is this actually going to be my 20th death-defying feat? has it already been nearly two centuries? my god does time fly...wait...flight... yea, sure, I'll think of something else electricity later. but for now, I'll try to survive terminal velocity without a parachute...on hard ground. fun!
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	You know it's a good one when they're stopping runs every 10 minutes to remove the body parts they'd missed. It's been a fact of life for as long as history has been documented that humans can extend their lifespans by nearly dying. The major world religions are all based around the concept that their god was responsible for it. It's credited as the basis for the Jesus myth - almost dying on the cross and recovering in 5 days is accepted in theological circles as an early metaphor for Breaking. The rules as we have grown to understand them are simple: Nearly die, gain 5 years of life. Technically, it's under by 62 days, but we humans love to fudge the numbers. I've made it to 146 years old. I get interviewed by joirnalists from time to time, mainly because they want to get their name on the final interview with the oldest man to ever live. The average human will live to be about 80 years old. My closest peers tend to die out around 125 years. There was a cancer survivor who made it to 135 due to a flurry of very dicey days during his treatment. The vast majority of people need to engage in a high risk activity at least once every 5 years to extend their lives. When 'high risk' equates to a less than five percent chance of survival, your luck tends to run out pretty quickly. Today, I'm looking at the latest Zeitgeist. Once the Breaking was fairly well understood, governments started building these obstacle courses in every major city. Citizens could then book a run, say goodbye to their loved ones, and try to win an extra five years of breathing. The Zeit was 5 obstacles in a row. Each individual section had multiple ways to die. Axes, woodchippers, underwater sections, this one was a little more elaborate than the average Zeit. Make it through all that and you were guaranteed to feel your limit Break. I watched them remove an arm from the pit below the pneumatic press and contemplated my situation. About 6 months were left on my limit. I needed to experience a very close shave to Break it again. The problem was that I'd just completed the damned thing and my limit didn't change. I've gotten too freaking good at surviving. I sat down in the Broken section, screened off from the crowds, and pondered my situation. For the average runner, a Zeit has a 1% survival rate. They make it to the end, boom, they hear their limit Break. My odds seem to have shifted during my 96 years of training and running these courses. Enough so that my limit didn't see it as near death. My limit must have thought this was just another Tuesday. It felt good to have completed the run, though. My muscles were aching, I was tired beyond belief, and I did not react fast enough when my chair broke. I toppled backwards, landing heavily on my back, and felt my limit Break. I lay still, looking at the dreary sky, listening to the next runner getting minced or barbecued or something. I slowly turned my head to the left. Very pointy spike of metal sticking into the air. Turned to the right. A live blasting cap right infront of my eye. I'd fallen backwards onto the spare parts pile for the Zeitgeist, an assortment of the deadliest unused devices the engineers could think of. And I survived!	I thought to myself "this next one must be quite \shocking\" as my mind buzzed with electricity-related feats, thinking about how this one is going to be my 20th feat. my mind wandered to standard shenanigans like a literally overpowered game of operation, or to swing from live wire to live wire, being extra sure not to grab two at a time so as to not cause death, or a lightning strike, or a toaster bathbomb challenge, or... &#x200B; or what? is this actually going to be my 20th death-defying feat? has it already been nearly two centuries? my god does time fly...wait...flight... yea, sure, I'll think of something else electricity later. but for now, I'll try to survive terminal velocity without a parachute...on hard ground. fun!
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	"It's been a damn while, hasn't it?" Rufkin Tolliver looked up from his copy of Pride and Prejudice, and smiled politely. "Well, er, hello, Martel. It's been, what," Rufkin began, as he looked at his watch. "49 years, if I remember correctly. Wow, time certainly does fly when you're completely timeless." Martel, a stocky man, physically fifty, had gone and done what so many others had done-- artificial lifespan expansion. Namely, he had strengthened his soul by having near-death-experiences. It was a distinct problem with the world-- especially as people either ceased to die or simply died via reckless and irresponsible means. Every time a person neared fifty, if they were aware, they could have a near death experience. They would not age past fifty technically, but would reset the counter, so to speak. At least until another fifty years, in which they would have to do it again. "Yeah, you know why I made this appointment," Martel grumbled. He may have been one to savor existing, but having his 50-year counter reset with a near-death-experience every time he reached his mid-40s was not something he looked forward to. But then, he just thought of a key-lime pie and all of his inhibitions were laid to rest. "Darling, of course I know what you want," Rufkin laughed, putting Austen down gently and patting the spine like an over-enthusiastic cat lady. "You want the experience. You want a dance with death. You want your counter reset." "Exactly," Martel sighed. "Now, with all these regulations they've been putting out there on Deathmakers, I hear you've been flying low these days?" "Real low," Rufkin whispered, emphasizing and drawing out the o. "Yeah, very low." He moved his hand up and down like an aeroplane, making noises out of the corner all the while. "Did you know that they just put mandatory do-not-resuscitate orders for everyone? Because so many people have been using Deathmakers lately?" "Is that so?," Martel blanched. "Well, I trust you, Rufkin. You've always done a wonderful job of nearly killing me. Always. I'll keep coming to you over and over again until I'm five-hundred. Every time that counter of mine needs resetting, I'll go straight to you." "Ah, and I'll savor your dying screams every single time," Rufkin squealed. "You know how I love them so." He hobbled over to a column of lockboxes behind the counter and began to shuffle through them. "So, darling, what are we doing this time? We did 'almost drowning' last time, but your counter-rest virginity was lost through the 'almost death by atropine' extravaganza, so I don't know if you want to relive that." As he listened to Rufkin ramble on, Martel also became very aware of a bubbling noise behind him, one that tickled the back of his ears. Like little feather dusters erupting from a cauldron. "Oh, how about, 'almost strangulation death by hearty dominatrix'? No, too R-rated of me," Rufkin cursed himself. "No, perhaps 'near death experience with blades'? I could do that, you know my surgery skills are still very much intact." "Oh, is 'almost death by poisoning' doable?," asked Martel, once again thinking of the key-lime pie. "Because I call pie, if so. You can do that, right, right--" Martel was interrupted by a rather eager shove, and landed in one of the wooden safari benches that Rufkin kept in the waiting room. "Hey, what the, and excuse my language, hell, is your problem?," Rufkin called angrily. "I'm with a customer right now. I mean, we're closed for regular business." The man who pushed Martel wore half of a mask on his face, and a monochromatic robe that covered very thin and bony knees. "Closed?," he asked, his voice deep and resonant, echoing through the small and shoddy jungle shack. "Why, even to me?" He pulled out an elegantly designed scythe, which spanned nearly the entire length of his body. His mask slowly melted away, revealing nothing below but a skull with a thin blanket of flesh. "Whoa," Rufkin exclaimed. "Your mask broke. Ha, doofus. Your mask broke!" "I do that to appear frightening," shouted the man. Martel passed out from sheer fright, and slumped over the wooden bench with a look of frightened submission. "Now, is there a reason that you aren't cowering in fear? Asking me who I am?" "Oh, sorry. I'm Rufkin Tolliver, of Rufkin's Rough Kind Tours," Rufkin introduced himself, offering a hand. "And you are, mademoiselle." "I'm a man," snarled the Reaper. "Just for future reference." "Noted," answered Rufkin. "So, are you like me? A fan of the jungle?," he leaned over, before whispering, "Or perhaps a fan of my-- other businesses?" "I'm the Grim Reaper, otherwise known as Thanatos," laughed the Reaper. "I've come not for your little tourist trap, but to glean what I can from the laughable situation that was caused by my illness." "Ha! Bull," interjected Rufkin. "You aren't anything. Not a thing. Grim Reaper my behind. Just because you have some sort of fancy scythe--" Thanatos swung the scythe straight towards Rufkin's neck, stopping right before the tip hit the man's jugular. "So, if you'll excuse me, I'll take your soul, his soul, and everyone else who tried to abuse my 150 year fever, and torture all of them for ever and ever and ever. No ifs, no buts, no coconuts." Rufkin giggled, having always had trouble composing himself. He leaned into the scythe slightly, feeling the tip of the blade on his neck. The Grim Reaper had a thin neck, a chicken neck. "Think something's funny," growled Thanatos. "I get into bed, and next thing I know it's been a hundred years plus fifty and everyone's got a fifty year counter. I don't get it, and I haven't seen God about it yet either. So don't fuck with me, buddy." "Oh, Thanny, you've always been too edgy," Rufkin laughed, grabbing the sides of his face and slowly peeling off the flesh simply to see the Reaper's reaction. He blinked, and bit down, adjusting to his natural face as the flesh slowly grew back. "Live a little, Thanatos. It'll do you good." "Damn, you're--," Thanatos began. "Raphael, God's sociable angel," Rufkin answered. "Yeah, that's me. I got you sick, too, just so I could mess around here. What are you gonna do about it?" "Oh, you blonde-haired little," Thanatos grasped out in front of him, but his bony fingers passed through Raphael's neck. "Just know that everything's going back to normal. No more damned counters. God's hearing about this, I'll have you now." "Easy there," chuckled Raphael, floating over to Martel, and throwing the portly man towards Thanatos. "Take this one. Make him one of your servants or whatever. I hear he'll do anything for key-lime pie." "Forget him," Thanatos said glumly. "He's dying within a few years anyways. What you're going to do, is reverse of all of this bullshit. Everything returns to normal. Everyone lives for however they are going to live. Half of the ones that cheated death-- I get their souls within the next ten years. And you better write me a real nice card." "Can and will do, Thanatos, my fun is over," Raphael agreed. "This sociable angel is gonna float up and make everything seem like a dream to these folks." He whizzed over to the counter, picking up the Pride and Prejudice copy. "You should read this sometime. Good book." Raphael rose into the sky, his wings slowly unfurling behind him. "See you some other time? Drinks?" Thanatos grumbled and sank into the ground, as the jungle hut burst into flames, the sky turned white, and Martel was cast into his bed as if everything was a dream. In fact, most of the world will not recall there ever being "life-span-extensions". But many, many people would die only years later, middle aged, of heart attacks. Still, the century-and-a-half of Thanatos's illness and Raphael's mischief would be a page lost to the machinations of divinity forever. \----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- r/bluelizardK	I thought to myself "this next one must be quite \shocking\" as my mind buzzed with electricity-related feats, thinking about how this one is going to be my 20th feat. my mind wandered to standard shenanigans like a literally overpowered game of operation, or to swing from live wire to live wire, being extra sure not to grab two at a time so as to not cause death, or a lightning strike, or a toaster bathbomb challenge, or... &#x200B; or what? is this actually going to be my 20th death-defying feat? has it already been nearly two centuries? my god does time fly...wait...flight... yea, sure, I'll think of something else electricity later. but for now, I'll try to survive terminal velocity without a parachute...on hard ground. fun!
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	“Hey,hey, grandma!” A boy with shaggy brown hair sat down next to our protagonist, pining her with an eager look. “C’mon, tell me! What’s your next trick gonna be?” Unfortunately, Danniela Brown’s family and friends seemed to think that she was some sort of Houdini who could pull off any kind of stunt without so much as twitching. This may be due to the fact that her only remaining family were all rather young, seeing as even her own children had already passed away. Danni, meanwhile, had continued to live day after day, wondering about just how many of her kin she would outlast. It was sadder than most people seemed to think. How she’d gotten into her predicament, Danny had no idea. Actually, as a younger human, Danni had been certain she was going to die the first few times she’d forcefully exposed herself to near-death situations, but had gotten out alive thanks to sheer dumb luck. After the sixth time this had happened, she’d gradually gained fame, until people had started to jokingly call her “the Girl Who Lived”. Danni did not appreciate the comparison with certain literary heroes, but she could admit that both her and Harry Potter had sheer dumb luck as a common denominator. Unfortunately, after becoming famous, with the eyes of the world trained on her, dying had become harder. Scientists had become invested in her survival and usually made sure that Danni didn’t pass away those few times that she actually nearly had. Danni wasn’t sure whether to appreciate their efforts or hate them for making her into their little lab experiment. Next came the stalkers and the people set on killing her to prove that they were special. With so many crooks and scumbags trying to see if they lucked out, Danni usually found herself in mortal peril more than once every five years. It was maddening, especially because the media treated her life like a TV show. However, now she was almost a hundred and fifty, had moved far away into the lost regions of rural Appalachia, where no one would look for her. Distance from everything had worked, as no one had tried to maim her in the past five years. And now Danni stood before a choice: should she try her luck again at surviving – because that was what it was, what she did – or should she simply settle for going to sleep one day and continuing to for all of eternity? She knew her grandchildren would be devastated. But she couldn’t help the cynical voice in her mind that wondered whether they’d miss their grandmother or the celebrity. “So, granny? What’s your new trick gonna be?” She tuned back in to find her grandson shaking her gleefully. “What do you want it to be?” asked Danni. “Hm. Oh, I know! Slay a boa constrictor!” “I am not going to give people more reasons to compare me with Harry Potter.” “Then jump from a helicopter into a tank full of sharks!” Danni sighed, poking him. “I’ll think about it, Max.” Annoyed, Max wrestled the TV remote from her grip and turned to watch his favourite cartoon. Danni busied herself with existential questions. It was then that it suddenly happened: a strange noise shook Danni out of her reverie, and she looked up to find Max’s cartoon replaced by a very serious-looking man in a suit. “I am the representative of the national security commission. This life video is being broadcasted to all stations – the matter that I will discus one of maximum security. A new race has been discovered to have infiltrated our planet. As of yet we do not know what they are, but we know one thing. They have the ability to take over a human body. There are no tells but for one: they do not need to get close to death every five years, and they lack the ability to properly express emotions.” “That’s two tells!” Max yelled out, but Danni shushed him. “We call them… parasites,” the man in the suit continued. “If you suspect someone to be a parasite – do not confront them, I repeat, do not confront them. Call the following number Xx-xxxxxx, and we will look into it. And, one last thing. Humans over a hundred are especially coveted by the parasites. Should you see someone who meets this requirements, also inform us immediately. That is all. Thank you for your attention.” There was just one problem, only one human was currently over a hundred, and that was Danni herself. “Shit,” she cursed. “Grandma?” “They’ll be coming.”	Death takes us all. Eventually. Sometimes more than once. See. The thing about anything “life threatening”, is that it’s traumatic. The mind and body are damaged to an extent. This all depends on the situation. Recovery from this trauma can be quick, or it can be never. Only the trauma is guaranteed. So the first time I almost died, a little piece of me managed to. The taxi was a masterpiece. Paid some idiot twice his usual fare to be at a certain place, at a certain time, on a certain day. Simple as that. I was there ten minutes early, and managed to get in a very violent altercation with the local homeless man normally occupying the near-by bus stop. And what would you know, he decided to push me in front of the on-coming taxi. The taxi already slowing down to stop. Hit my head on the hood pretty hard, but I was fine. The taxi driver wasn’t. He was livid. You can get a pretty penny for helping someone almost die. Sucker. The next time was easier. And so was the next. Back alleyways are a good bet. So is being an asshole. Used to have a guy that I worked with. He’d make sure the beatings stopped at almost dead. Every now and then we’d trade off. Until one day he went out by himself. Got attacked by a bear. I know, right? Did a little time in the service. As they say, patriotism is its own reward. Cheap bastards. Yet, here I am. Once again, at the end of my rope, looking for my next fix. But what can I do? Aging is slow, but not that slow. I can’t take an ass whooping like I used to. Im too old for the service. I already got a solid decade or two off of cancer, and the doc says the next one will kill me. So what to do? Kind of difficult picking a cushy way to almost die. The two are often mutually exclusive. All the old friends finally bought the real bullet, and if I’m being honest, finding new suckers to scam is a bit stressful, and I already milked that for all it’s worth. Flatlined on the table off of that one. So what can I do? Wait. Lightbulb. Hey, Sharon? Yeah, it’s me. Yeah, I missed you too. What? No! Of course, I’m not mad about the house anymore. And since you admitted to it, the insurance covered everything anyway. Yeah! Got a whole new couch. Fireproof and everything. But anyway, I was wondering. You wouldn’t happen to be free for lunch tomorrow would you? I was up late doing some thinking, and I realized something. It’s been a while.
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	You know it's a good one when they're stopping runs every 10 minutes to remove the body parts they'd missed. It's been a fact of life for as long as history has been documented that humans can extend their lifespans by nearly dying. The major world religions are all based around the concept that their god was responsible for it. It's credited as the basis for the Jesus myth - almost dying on the cross and recovering in 5 days is accepted in theological circles as an early metaphor for Breaking. The rules as we have grown to understand them are simple: Nearly die, gain 5 years of life. Technically, it's under by 62 days, but we humans love to fudge the numbers. I've made it to 146 years old. I get interviewed by joirnalists from time to time, mainly because they want to get their name on the final interview with the oldest man to ever live. The average human will live to be about 80 years old. My closest peers tend to die out around 125 years. There was a cancer survivor who made it to 135 due to a flurry of very dicey days during his treatment. The vast majority of people need to engage in a high risk activity at least once every 5 years to extend their lives. When 'high risk' equates to a less than five percent chance of survival, your luck tends to run out pretty quickly. Today, I'm looking at the latest Zeitgeist. Once the Breaking was fairly well understood, governments started building these obstacle courses in every major city. Citizens could then book a run, say goodbye to their loved ones, and try to win an extra five years of breathing. The Zeit was 5 obstacles in a row. Each individual section had multiple ways to die. Axes, woodchippers, underwater sections, this one was a little more elaborate than the average Zeit. Make it through all that and you were guaranteed to feel your limit Break. I watched them remove an arm from the pit below the pneumatic press and contemplated my situation. About 6 months were left on my limit. I needed to experience a very close shave to Break it again. The problem was that I'd just completed the damned thing and my limit didn't change. I've gotten too freaking good at surviving. I sat down in the Broken section, screened off from the crowds, and pondered my situation. For the average runner, a Zeit has a 1% survival rate. They make it to the end, boom, they hear their limit Break. My odds seem to have shifted during my 96 years of training and running these courses. Enough so that my limit didn't see it as near death. My limit must have thought this was just another Tuesday. It felt good to have completed the run, though. My muscles were aching, I was tired beyond belief, and I did not react fast enough when my chair broke. I toppled backwards, landing heavily on my back, and felt my limit Break. I lay still, looking at the dreary sky, listening to the next runner getting minced or barbecued or something. I slowly turned my head to the left. Very pointy spike of metal sticking into the air. Turned to the right. A live blasting cap right infront of my eye. I'd fallen backwards onto the spare parts pile for the Zeitgeist, an assortment of the deadliest unused devices the engineers could think of. And I survived!	Death takes us all. Eventually. Sometimes more than once. See. The thing about anything “life threatening”, is that it’s traumatic. The mind and body are damaged to an extent. This all depends on the situation. Recovery from this trauma can be quick, or it can be never. Only the trauma is guaranteed. So the first time I almost died, a little piece of me managed to. The taxi was a masterpiece. Paid some idiot twice his usual fare to be at a certain place, at a certain time, on a certain day. Simple as that. I was there ten minutes early, and managed to get in a very violent altercation with the local homeless man normally occupying the near-by bus stop. And what would you know, he decided to push me in front of the on-coming taxi. The taxi already slowing down to stop. Hit my head on the hood pretty hard, but I was fine. The taxi driver wasn’t. He was livid. You can get a pretty penny for helping someone almost die. Sucker. The next time was easier. And so was the next. Back alleyways are a good bet. So is being an asshole. Used to have a guy that I worked with. He’d make sure the beatings stopped at almost dead. Every now and then we’d trade off. Until one day he went out by himself. Got attacked by a bear. I know, right? Did a little time in the service. As they say, patriotism is its own reward. Cheap bastards. Yet, here I am. Once again, at the end of my rope, looking for my next fix. But what can I do? Aging is slow, but not that slow. I can’t take an ass whooping like I used to. Im too old for the service. I already got a solid decade or two off of cancer, and the doc says the next one will kill me. So what to do? Kind of difficult picking a cushy way to almost die. The two are often mutually exclusive. All the old friends finally bought the real bullet, and if I’m being honest, finding new suckers to scam is a bit stressful, and I already milked that for all it’s worth. Flatlined on the table off of that one. So what can I do? Wait. Lightbulb. Hey, Sharon? Yeah, it’s me. Yeah, I missed you too. What? No! Of course, I’m not mad about the house anymore. And since you admitted to it, the insurance covered everything anyway. Yeah! Got a whole new couch. Fireproof and everything. But anyway, I was wondering. You wouldn’t happen to be free for lunch tomorrow would you? I was up late doing some thinking, and I realized something. It’s been a while.
	[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires.	You know it's a good one when they're stopping runs every 10 minutes to remove the body parts they'd missed. It's been a fact of life for as long as history has been documented that humans can extend their lifespans by nearly dying. The major world religions are all based around the concept that their god was responsible for it. It's credited as the basis for the Jesus myth - almost dying on the cross and recovering in 5 days is accepted in theological circles as an early metaphor for Breaking. The rules as we have grown to understand them are simple: Nearly die, gain 5 years of life. Technically, it's under by 62 days, but we humans love to fudge the numbers. I've made it to 146 years old. I get interviewed by joirnalists from time to time, mainly because they want to get their name on the final interview with the oldest man to ever live. The average human will live to be about 80 years old. My closest peers tend to die out around 125 years. There was a cancer survivor who made it to 135 due to a flurry of very dicey days during his treatment. The vast majority of people need to engage in a high risk activity at least once every 5 years to extend their lives. When 'high risk' equates to a less than five percent chance of survival, your luck tends to run out pretty quickly. Today, I'm looking at the latest Zeitgeist. Once the Breaking was fairly well understood, governments started building these obstacle courses in every major city. Citizens could then book a run, say goodbye to their loved ones, and try to win an extra five years of breathing. The Zeit was 5 obstacles in a row. Each individual section had multiple ways to die. Axes, woodchippers, underwater sections, this one was a little more elaborate than the average Zeit. Make it through all that and you were guaranteed to feel your limit Break. I watched them remove an arm from the pit below the pneumatic press and contemplated my situation. About 6 months were left on my limit. I needed to experience a very close shave to Break it again. The problem was that I'd just completed the damned thing and my limit didn't change. I've gotten too freaking good at surviving. I sat down in the Broken section, screened off from the crowds, and pondered my situation. For the average runner, a Zeit has a 1% survival rate. They make it to the end, boom, they hear their limit Break. My odds seem to have shifted during my 96 years of training and running these courses. Enough so that my limit didn't see it as near death. My limit must have thought this was just another Tuesday. It felt good to have completed the run, though. My muscles were aching, I was tired beyond belief, and I did not react fast enough when my chair broke. I toppled backwards, landing heavily on my back, and felt my limit Break. I lay still, looking at the dreary sky, listening to the next runner getting minced or barbecued or something. I slowly turned my head to the left. Very pointy spike of metal sticking into the air. Turned to the right. A live blasting cap right infront of my eye. I'd fallen backwards onto the spare parts pile for the Zeitgeist, an assortment of the deadliest unused devices the engineers could think of. And I survived!	“Hey,hey, grandma!” A boy with shaggy brown hair sat down next to our protagonist, pining her with an eager look. “C’mon, tell me! What’s your next trick gonna be?” Unfortunately, Danniela Brown’s family and friends seemed to think that she was some sort of Houdini who could pull off any kind of stunt without so much as twitching. This may be due to the fact that her only remaining family were all rather young, seeing as even her own children had already passed away. Danni, meanwhile, had continued to live day after day, wondering about just how many of her kin she would outlast. It was sadder than most people seemed to think. How she’d gotten into her predicament, Danny had no idea. Actually, as a younger human, Danni had been certain she was going to die the first few times she’d forcefully exposed herself to near-death situations, but had gotten out alive thanks to sheer dumb luck. After the sixth time this had happened, she’d gradually gained fame, until people had started to jokingly call her “the Girl Who Lived”. Danni did not appreciate the comparison with certain literary heroes, but she could admit that both her and Harry Potter had sheer dumb luck as a common denominator. Unfortunately, after becoming famous, with the eyes of the world trained on her, dying had become harder. Scientists had become invested in her survival and usually made sure that Danni didn’t pass away those few times that she actually nearly had. Danni wasn’t sure whether to appreciate their efforts or hate them for making her into their little lab experiment. Next came the stalkers and the people set on killing her to prove that they were special. With so many crooks and scumbags trying to see if they lucked out, Danni usually found herself in mortal peril more than once every five years. It was maddening, especially because the media treated her life like a TV show. However, now she was almost a hundred and fifty, had moved far away into the lost regions of rural Appalachia, where no one would look for her. Distance from everything had worked, as no one had tried to maim her in the past five years. And now Danni stood before a choice: should she try her luck again at surviving – because that was what it was, what she did – or should she simply settle for going to sleep one day and continuing to for all of eternity? She knew her grandchildren would be devastated. But she couldn’t help the cynical voice in her mind that wondered whether they’d miss their grandmother or the celebrity. “So, granny? What’s your new trick gonna be?” She tuned back in to find her grandson shaking her gleefully. “What do you want it to be?” asked Danni. “Hm. Oh, I know! Slay a boa constrictor!” “I am not going to give people more reasons to compare me with Harry Potter.” “Then jump from a helicopter into a tank full of sharks!” Danni sighed, poking him. “I’ll think about it, Max.” Annoyed, Max wrestled the TV remote from her grip and turned to watch his favourite cartoon. Danni busied herself with existential questions. It was then that it suddenly happened: a strange noise shook Danni out of her reverie, and she looked up to find Max’s cartoon replaced by a very serious-looking man in a suit. “I am the representative of the national security commission. This life video is being broadcasted to all stations – the matter that I will discus one of maximum security. A new race has been discovered to have infiltrated our planet. As of yet we do not know what they are, but we know one thing. They have the ability to take over a human body. There are no tells but for one: they do not need to get close to death every five years, and they lack the ability to properly express emotions.” “That’s two tells!” Max yelled out, but Danni shushed him. “We call them… parasites,” the man in the suit continued. “If you suspect someone to be a parasite – do not confront them, I repeat, do not confront them. Call the following number Xx-xxxxxx, and we will look into it. And, one last thing. Humans over a hundred are especially coveted by the parasites. Should you see someone who meets this requirements, also inform us immediately. That is all. Thank you for your attention.” There was just one problem, only one human was currently over a hundred, and that was Danni herself. “Shit,” she cursed. “Grandma?” “They’ll be coming.”
	[WP] Investigating some smoke rising from your lawn, you discover that the ants below have entered the Bronze Age.	Situated in a middle sized European town on a small hill within random rows, one with many different and unique homes, stands my house. The house is not particularly impressive looking and it doesn’t have distinct features. So it’s not very eventful. At least that’s how I would introduce it, but I don’t believe in that kind of boring introduction. I like to believe that everyone is incredibly special and should pride themselves for it. I for one am a person captivated by discovery. I simply love finding new things and discovering what the world has to offer then documenting it all. It’s my life goal to find out as much as I can in my lifetime. Right now it a ‘hobby’ but eventually I plan to make it my job, then I’ll be able to spend all of my waking hours perusing what I love. All that being said I never expected for an opportunity as such to present itself this early into my career. Before me stands a colony of ants I discovered after going to some smoke in my backyard. This colony that is very special. In fact, at this moment, it would be more accurate to call it an army. Swarms of little ants with tiny, sharp sticks pointing upwards and covered in shiny bronze plates. They are set in multiple locations and formed Roman legions with their rectangular shining shields. These ants are something never seen before by humans... they... forming a civilisation!? Do they have intelligence? How could this happen? I was exasperated by the sight before me, but more then that somethings welling up from inside me. It’s a feeling of happiness and joy; this discovery, its something incredible, right now, I’m witnessing the birth... of a new race. The ants begin to move towards me staying in formation. They leave their fort looking colony and advance towards the concrete back yard I’m currently on. I’m sure that this will cause great change in the future world. Thanks for reading, this one is really short but feel free to criticise. Find more of my stories at r/kubor04	[Poem] ###On fire I looked upon the grasses There they came In masses I’m not taking blame They waved at me The little buggers All I could think was: just leave me be, You little diggers They brought a tiny grain As a sacrifice They must be insane I’m getting the ice Back I went Into the house Hell is where they’ll be sent In the cupboard I browse I got a spyglass Ice isn’t as good Just like my old class I’m in a nostalgic mood I used the sun To set them on fire My job here is done The sun will set on their empire thank you all for reading this, I hope you liked it. This is my first poem, so be gentle please. I wanted to write a story about this, but I couldn’t think of anything, so I decided to go for a poem. I think it turned out pretty good, but constructive criticism is always welcome
	[WP] Investigating some smoke rising from your lawn, you discover that the ants below have entered the Bronze Age.	They could not scream, for they had voiceboxes. But over the roar of a metallic fire-beast people called a flamethrower, Dale imagined that steady chatter the blades of grass made were in fact millions of mandibles were clicking in unison. A call of battle, surrender or a final cry into the night? Dale did not know. What he did know, and as far as he could understand was that this hill of ants had to be exterminated at all costs. He had tossed and turned in his bed the night before, deep in thought. His backyard was now home to a new form of social life. Of all the things that had chosen to evolve, it was the ants. At first Dale had been fascinated by the ants, watching them form tight, symmetrical formations around the anthill in the far right corner of his backyard. Later, sitting on the porch listening to crickets and sipping a beer, he noted that the ants were not dragging food, but pieces of tin and copper. And now you have taken it too far, Lasius niger, he thought. The ants were an inherent danger. No exception. Dale had trapped twenty ants in a jar, dumped some pieces of tin inside and watched them for an afternoon to see what would happen. He threw in a beetle for good measure, just to observe how the ants behaved in a hostile environment. Within a few hours they had used formic acid to melt off a long, sharp spear the size of a toothpick and within minutes they were able to pin down the beetle, using the spear as an oversized lance to force open the exoskeleton. The beetle's legs flailed uselessly in the air, having been flipped over by the ants. When Dale woke in the morning the beetle had been carefully cut into small cubes of flesh. Not a scrap remained on its tough shell. The ants had left. The jar was open. And sure enough a steady march of ants was marching from under the screen door towards the kitchen top. Part 2 soon	[Poem] ###On fire I looked upon the grasses There they came In masses I’m not taking blame They waved at me The little buggers All I could think was: just leave me be, You little diggers They brought a tiny grain As a sacrifice They must be insane I’m getting the ice Back I went Into the house Hell is where they’ll be sent In the cupboard I browse I got a spyglass Ice isn’t as good Just like my old class I’m in a nostalgic mood I used the sun To set them on fire My job here is done The sun will set on their empire thank you all for reading this, I hope you liked it. This is my first poem, so be gentle please. I wanted to write a story about this, but I couldn’t think of anything, so I decided to go for a poem. I think it turned out pretty good, but constructive criticism is always welcome
	[WP] Investigating some smoke rising from your lawn, you discover that the ants below have entered the Bronze Age.	“Aw fuck.” “What's up?” “Ants are organizing on the front lawn again. There’s something in the water here, I swear. No matter how many times I wash em out with the hose they always come back.” “What? You purposely try to kill them? Dude, they'd probably think of you as a God if you just put some sugar out for them or something.” “I don't want to be their God, I just want my lawn not to be deforested. It’s ridiculous. Two weeks ago, one of them had a spear made out of the end of a tack. Last week, they were smelting their own crude metals—don't laugh, they were. I saw their little forges.” “That's awesome.” “No, no it's not awesome. That's what I'm saying. These guys just clear cut a solid square foot of grass in two days. They eat up everything around them, and I can't smite them fast enough. By the time the flood is gone they're already on to the next generation, kicking their forges back on and probably figuring out how to machine parts, or fuck knows what else down in those little caves. And then what happens when they figure out there's more out there than just my yard? There's a whole neighbourhood—a whole world—of green grass to chop.” “You're overthinking this, they're just ants.” “How do you stop something like that though? I could never kill all of them. No a matter how bad things get, there will always be some left to repopulate and keep expanding. It's like the universe itself, it only knows forward momentum. You can't contain that to one yard, one neighborhood. They’ll just grow forever.” “So?” “So, I'm going to get the hose.”	[Poem] ###On fire I looked upon the grasses There they came In masses I’m not taking blame They waved at me The little buggers All I could think was: just leave me be, You little diggers They brought a tiny grain As a sacrifice They must be insane I’m getting the ice Back I went Into the house Hell is where they’ll be sent In the cupboard I browse I got a spyglass Ice isn’t as good Just like my old class I’m in a nostalgic mood I used the sun To set them on fire My job here is done The sun will set on their empire thank you all for reading this, I hope you liked it. This is my first poem, so be gentle please. I wanted to write a story about this, but I couldn’t think of anything, so I decided to go for a poem. I think it turned out pretty good, but constructive criticism is always welcome
	[WP] Investigating some smoke rising from your lawn, you discover that the ants below have entered the Bronze Age.	I was having a week off from my job when I noticed several small plumes of smoke rising from the ground. At first I didn't know what to think but when I checked I was shocked to discover what was happening. The ants that we're living in my garden we're in some sort of forge, three of them lowering bits of tin and bronze down to a smeltery of some kind, while two we're taking the molten metal and creating weapons and armor out of it. The first thought that came to my head was to check if it was happening anywhere else. I looked all over the entire garden which took a while( It's pretty big to say the least.) and I found about 12 other ant colonies that we're doing the same thing, out of which 4 were big and the 9 were small. I decided to map out where each and everyone of them were, then named them whatever came to mind. The main ones are as such: The first colony, one of Black Crazy Ants, was under a swing in my garden. They we're by far, one of the biggest colonies, reaching from the swing to the apple tree. I can only assume that the reason why they grew so big was because last year I didn't bother picking up the apples since they were so small and so little. I named it Corvaria. The second, a Fire Ant colony was near the terrace between two evergreens and under some roses. The terrain was filled with big rocks so it was quite easy to spot. It was a lot smaller but out of all of them, they had the biggest amount of ants that we're equipped with tin and bronze tools. It's name became Sovo. The third, a Pharaoh Ant colony was ironically in an area where I wanted to make it like a beach but I ultimately gave up. Still, the sand was there and I sometimes used it to sunbathe. It also happened to have some really tall plants. Couldn't tell which type. However, the interesting part was that most of the colony grew ON said plants. They had managed to create little houses that we're somehow attached to them. The queen was still in a mound down below though. Must have been a recent development. It was named Aerasia. The fourth, and possibly the hardest to find was a colony of Harvester ants. These ones grew near the center point of the garden, a big pond with fish swimming in it and a natural filtration system. They had made their nest in the middle of some bamboo, that was covering each and every bit of it was walled of by the bamboo which grew very tall. I could see that they we're using aphids to feed off of the sap of the bamboo. However, a lot of the colony lived inside the filtration system, which was split in two parts: One filled with rocks and bags of sand which cleaned most of the water and another filled with plants that lived off of the waste which was where they got clean water from. I could also see a hole in the tarp that was covering the walls of the pond so no algae would grow where smoke came out, and using a magnifying glass I found where their main forge is. I haven't come up with a name yet though. Can you help me with that? I'll explain the situation with the other smaller colonies later, now it's getting a little late. See ya.	[Poem] ###On fire I looked upon the grasses There they came In masses I’m not taking blame They waved at me The little buggers All I could think was: just leave me be, You little diggers They brought a tiny grain As a sacrifice They must be insane I’m getting the ice Back I went Into the house Hell is where they’ll be sent In the cupboard I browse I got a spyglass Ice isn’t as good Just like my old class I’m in a nostalgic mood I used the sun To set them on fire My job here is done The sun will set on their empire thank you all for reading this, I hope you liked it. This is my first poem, so be gentle please. I wanted to write a story about this, but I couldn’t think of anything, so I decided to go for a poem. I think it turned out pretty good, but constructive criticism is always welcome
	[WP] Investigating some smoke rising from your lawn, you discover that the ants below have entered the Bronze Age.	The leaders of a tribe of ants gather around the Hearth to consult with their Shaman on the matter of expansion. All six of them stand before the Shaman, who herself stands before the Queen, and they wait in tense silence as the distant clanging of metal sounds. Their mandibles click nervously as the Shaman addresses them. “Thank you all for coming here. I shall keep this meeting brief, as the Forger needs to maintain her position.” One of the ants nods respectfully, and the Shaman continues. “The colony is booming, and our most benevolent Queen is both healthy and robust, acting as the beating heart that empowers all of us. However, space is limited; as many tunnels as we make, there will eventually come a time when a new colony must be established. That leads us to ask ‘in which way shall we expand?’ As you know, the Grasslands are a dangerous place, filled with both fertile resources as well as terrible predators. The Thorngrove and its wondrous flowers are home to many flying creatures who wish us no clemency. The Concrete Wastes are barren of all life, and lead only to the monster’s den.” All of them stamp their legs on the ground in a warding gesture against the beast. “So it comes to you six, the leaders of our colony and the various castes within it. Where shall we expand?” The Warrior steps forward. “The Grasslands are the most fertile, and my Myrmidons will be able to combat any foe we face. Let them try to prevent our spreading, our most terrible Queen will strike them down!” The Matron shakes her head. “The area is too untamed, we would lose more Myrmidons than ground we would take. We should head to the Thorngrove, that will have the least resistance with an adequate gain.” The Warrior gives a sharp click of her mandibles. “And risk war with the Wasps? We are mighty, but they are deadly.” The Scout steps forward. “Perhaps I can offer an alternative?” The Digger shakes her head. “Here we go again…” The Scout pays her no mind, speaking directly to the Shaman. “Beyond the Concrete Wastes is the den of the monster, yes? Well, my scouts have reported that at the mouth of the beast’s cave is a series of flowers. Wasp free and blooming tomatoes, in fact.” The Matron widens her eyes. “How did you-” The Warrior cuts her off. “Absolutely not. To march the Concrete Wastes is suicide, the beast will find us and-” The Shaman clicks her mandibles and the gathering quiets. She looks at the last ant that has not spoken. “You have yet to speak, Farmer, what are your thoughts on this?” The Farmer tilts her head to either side. “Well… With the aphids and the mushrooms we have here, we have enough of a store that we could send most of the resource gatherers out to where Scout is talking about… And if these plants are really what she says they are, it would be far safer for our aphids than the Thorngrove.” The Matron shakes her head. “But the beast is so close, how would we manage to survive?” The Digger steps forward. “Actually, we could make our colony’s farming chamber right beneath the flowers to maximize the safety of the aphids and harvesters. It’s unconventional… But it just might work.” The Warrior looks to the Forger. “You can’t be listening to all of this, can you?” The Forger walks over to the Hearth, gazing into the inferno. “We have a surplus of scrap… If we send a diversion team to drop it off and distract the beast then-” The Matron shakes her head. “Unbelievable!” She walks up to the Shaman. “You can’t listen to them, we will lose hundreds of workers if we try this. I don’t think I need to remind anyone of the Great Flood.” All of the ants lower their head in respect of the fallen. The beast had held a device that commanded the rains, directing it at whatever poor souls were outside. Nearly a seventh of the colony was lost that day. The Shaman mutters to all assembled. “It is the Queen’s decision, blessed may it be.” She turns around and approaches the queen, dropping her head to the ground. For a full minute, the gathering is silent, before the Queen says something unintelligible to all but the Shaman. The Shaman turns around, cautiously approaching the group. The Warrior tilts her head to the side. “Well?” The Shaman looks at the Warrior, then at the Forger. “Ready the Myrmidons, prepare the scrap. We march for the lair of the beast.” (Criticism is both welcome and appreciated, I hope you enjoyed reading)	[Poem] ###On fire I looked upon the grasses There they came In masses I’m not taking blame They waved at me The little buggers All I could think was: just leave me be, You little diggers They brought a tiny grain As a sacrifice They must be insane I’m getting the ice Back I went Into the house Hell is where they’ll be sent In the cupboard I browse I got a spyglass Ice isn’t as good Just like my old class I’m in a nostalgic mood I used the sun To set them on fire My job here is done The sun will set on their empire thank you all for reading this, I hope you liked it. This is my first poem, so be gentle please. I wanted to write a story about this, but I couldn’t think of anything, so I decided to go for a poem. I think it turned out pretty good, but constructive criticism is always welcome
	[WP] Investigating some smoke rising from your lawn, you discover that the ants below have entered the Bronze Age.	(please excuse my grammar, run on sentences, etc. This is my first time trying, and my grammar clearly isn't up to snuff) Last week when my wife Bree told me our kids had snuck into my lab, taken some of the product I was working on, and accidently spilled it in the yard, I wasn't concerned. I had been working on BioHeal in my off time for over three years now. This was my Forty-second attempt. With all others being clear failures to start, building up to what I felt were near misses. And it's not like attempt Forty-Two was showing any signs of being a viable product either. &nbsp; That was until today when my Bree started screaming for me to come upstairs. "Doug!" she shouted. "Get up here! There is a fire in the backyard!". I quickly grabbed the fire extinguisher by the bottom of the stairs i keep in case of emergency, and ran up the steps two at a time. "Call the fire department!" I shouted as a ran by. She, my loving wife of over fifteen years started dialing as she fell behind in lockstep. Ready to offer any aid or support I might need. &nbsp; Just as she was about to push the call button we ran out the back door, and I saw it was just a small fire. "Nevermind the fire department" I told her. "This is just a small fire, Go back inside and check up on the kids. And I'll put it out" as she walked back inside I pulled the pin on my extinguisher, and headed over to the smoke. I aimed the nozzle repeating in my head the methodology of proper fire extinguisher use "Pull, Aim, Squeeze, Sweep". Again Just as I was about to act I noticed something odd about the smoke. &nbsp; I often look back to that day and wonder how things might have gone differently? If I had let my wife call the fire department? If I had used the fire extinguisher and destroyed what I was about to find? I set the fire extinguisher on the ground, and moved closer to inspect the odd and curious smoke rising out of what appeared to be multiple mini-pyramids the size of ant hills. &nbsp; As I looked closer I realized they were ant hills. Well, sort of. They were formed with small perfect bricks the size of a lego piece. Well formed intentional structures with ants in their orderly fashion moving all around. Doing what I can only describe as, work. &nbsp; I pulled out my phone, and sent a text to my wife. &nbsp; DOUG: "Honey, do you remember the last time we dropped acid?" Queen-Bree: "Two months ago when the smiths came over to spend the night. Why?" DOUG: "Ya, that's what I thought. Could you find something to keep the kids busy, and join me back in the yard?" Queen-Bree: "OMW, give my 5-10. unless it's urgent?" DOUG: "That should be fine. I love you my Queen!" Queen-Bree: "I love you too my King" &nbsp; As I put my phone away, fondly remembering all of the great times I have had with my wife. I wondered what was in store for us next? What could this curiosity be? And what effect might it have on my family? I was unaware at this point just how much not only mine, but the whole world's lives were about to change. For the better thankfully as all of you reading this already know. &nbsp; As I waited for Bree to work her magic with the kids I took a step back from the structures and began to investigate. I pulled my phone back out, and started to take pictures. Every trained scientist knows that documentation is the key to good science. I noticed ants that seemed to be bringing dirt to areas where they were forming it together to make more bricks. I saw ants clearing my grass away (which I am extremely proud of if I might say. And so a little upset about) to make what seemed to be crop fields. There was all sorts of work happening in different areas. &nbsp; As I heard Bree come out the back door, she said "What is it Honey? Are you ok?". "Ya, I'm fine. come check this out!" I replied. As she moved closer she said "Why is there still smoke?! I thought you were going to put the fire out?". I turned to her with one of my big "Eureka!" smiles that she has come to love and said "Because of what's causing the smoke, come take a look!" &nbsp; She came up beside me, put her arm around my waist and said "What is it?" looking at the odd sight. "Is this One of your experiments?" she asked? "Not an intentional one" I replied. "Isn't this the spot where the kids spilled my BioHeal serum?" I asked. "yes, I think so" she replied, "Why?". "Well either both of us are tripping, which we've already ruled out. Or something big is happening!" I explained to her, with the excitement of a small child making their first discovery in my voice. &nbsp; As I Pointed to the different work the ants were doing I said "Look! There! And There! they are building pyramids and clearing out fields for crops! I think my BioHeal had a crazy honey I shrunk the kids effect and pushed the ants in our backyard into the stone age in a week!" She Looked around and said in an offhand manner "Bronze age. See the ants over there making what looks like little writing tablets? And the warrior ants seem to have some kind of metallic armour and cladding around their mandibles.". I knew better than to argue with her, she was a college History teacher after all! &nbsp; "LOOK" She said pointing towards the ants that were doing the "writing". As I looked I saw that there were more of them writing. And that the script had gone from unintelligible, to a large single character. In english... The ants began moving the writing from the work area to a patch of grass they were clearing two feet in front of us. As the work progressed I got the uncanny feeling that some kind of AskOuija seance was happening. The message began to form... &nbsp; Firstly, Thank you. You have given us a collaborative consciousness through you work, and your younglings actions. We have been watching you as we rapidly evolve our technological level. Individually we are small, and quite stupid if we're being honest. But together through a unique pheromone evolution caused by you goo we can communicate and collaborate to become greater than the individual. We have seen the mistakes your species has made, and chosen a better path. While our Warriors remain ever vigilant for unseen hostilities, we have come together to work in peace so that we may join you and share our ways. You fight and argue over ideologies while the most vernuarable of you suffer. You idolizes those of you at the top and in the public eye, rather than your local heros doing good works every day. You segregate yourselves based on factors that you cannot change. We hope to continue to rapidly evolve and show your species a better way. You see, collaborative work solves everything! You see yourselves as big compared to us. But individually, you are just as small. You must come together and share your knowledge to build a better future. Even the smallest and weakest of our ants do a small part, and we realize that small part helps all of us as a whole. We have watched your family, and know it's full of love. But we also know that too many of you are filled with hate and fear of something new that would challenge your status quo. We hope that you would leave us in peace and not tell anyone about us until we are ready... &nbsp; And the rest is the history that lead us to World Peace.	[Poem] ###On fire I looked upon the grasses There they came In masses I’m not taking blame They waved at me The little buggers All I could think was: just leave me be, You little diggers They brought a tiny grain As a sacrifice They must be insane I’m getting the ice Back I went Into the house Hell is where they’ll be sent In the cupboard I browse I got a spyglass Ice isn’t as good Just like my old class I’m in a nostalgic mood I used the sun To set them on fire My job here is done The sun will set on their empire thank you all for reading this, I hope you liked it. This is my first poem, so be gentle please. I wanted to write a story about this, but I couldn’t think of anything, so I decided to go for a poem. I think it turned out pretty good, but constructive criticism is always welcome
	[WP] Investigating some smoke rising from your lawn, you discover that the ants below have entered the Bronze Age.	“Aw fuck.” “What's up?” “Ants are organizing on the front lawn again. There’s something in the water here, I swear. No matter how many times I wash em out with the hose they always come back.” “What? You purposely try to kill them? Dude, they'd probably think of you as a God if you just put some sugar out for them or something.” “I don't want to be their God, I just want my lawn not to be deforested. It’s ridiculous. Two weeks ago, one of them had a spear made out of the end of a tack. Last week, they were smelting their own crude metals—don't laugh, they were. I saw their little forges.” “That's awesome.” “No, no it's not awesome. That's what I'm saying. These guys just clear cut a solid square foot of grass in two days. They eat up everything around them, and I can't smite them fast enough. By the time the flood is gone they're already on to the next generation, kicking their forges back on and probably figuring out how to machine parts, or fuck knows what else down in those little caves. And then what happens when they figure out there's more out there than just my yard? There's a whole neighbourhood—a whole world—of green grass to chop.” “You're overthinking this, they're just ants.” “How do you stop something like that though? I could never kill all of them. No a matter how bad things get, there will always be some left to repopulate and keep expanding. It's like the universe itself, it only knows forward momentum. You can't contain that to one yard, one neighborhood. They’ll just grow forever.” “So?” “So, I'm going to get the hose.”	Situated in a middle sized European town on a small hill within random rows, one with many different and unique homes, stands my house. The house is not particularly impressive looking and it doesn’t have distinct features. So it’s not very eventful. At least that’s how I would introduce it, but I don’t believe in that kind of boring introduction. I like to believe that everyone is incredibly special and should pride themselves for it. I for one am a person captivated by discovery. I simply love finding new things and discovering what the world has to offer then documenting it all. It’s my life goal to find out as much as I can in my lifetime. Right now it a ‘hobby’ but eventually I plan to make it my job, then I’ll be able to spend all of my waking hours perusing what I love. All that being said I never expected for an opportunity as such to present itself this early into my career. Before me stands a colony of ants I discovered after going to some smoke in my backyard. This colony that is very special. In fact, at this moment, it would be more accurate to call it an army. Swarms of little ants with tiny, sharp sticks pointing upwards and covered in shiny bronze plates. They are set in multiple locations and formed Roman legions with their rectangular shining shields. These ants are something never seen before by humans... they... forming a civilisation!? Do they have intelligence? How could this happen? I was exasperated by the sight before me, but more then that somethings welling up from inside me. It’s a feeling of happiness and joy; this discovery, its something incredible, right now, I’m witnessing the birth... of a new race. The ants begin to move towards me staying in formation. They leave their fort looking colony and advance towards the concrete back yard I’m currently on. I’m sure that this will cause great change in the future world. Thanks for reading, this one is really short but feel free to criticise. Find more of my stories at r/kubor04
	[WP] Investigating some smoke rising from your lawn, you discover that the ants below have entered the Bronze Age.	I was having a week off from my job when I noticed several small plumes of smoke rising from the ground. At first I didn't know what to think but when I checked I was shocked to discover what was happening. The ants that we're living in my garden we're in some sort of forge, three of them lowering bits of tin and bronze down to a smeltery of some kind, while two we're taking the molten metal and creating weapons and armor out of it. The first thought that came to my head was to check if it was happening anywhere else. I looked all over the entire garden which took a while( It's pretty big to say the least.) and I found about 12 other ant colonies that we're doing the same thing, out of which 4 were big and the 9 were small. I decided to map out where each and everyone of them were, then named them whatever came to mind. The main ones are as such: The first colony, one of Black Crazy Ants, was under a swing in my garden. They we're by far, one of the biggest colonies, reaching from the swing to the apple tree. I can only assume that the reason why they grew so big was because last year I didn't bother picking up the apples since they were so small and so little. I named it Corvaria. The second, a Fire Ant colony was near the terrace between two evergreens and under some roses. The terrain was filled with big rocks so it was quite easy to spot. It was a lot smaller but out of all of them, they had the biggest amount of ants that we're equipped with tin and bronze tools. It's name became Sovo. The third, a Pharaoh Ant colony was ironically in an area where I wanted to make it like a beach but I ultimately gave up. Still, the sand was there and I sometimes used it to sunbathe. It also happened to have some really tall plants. Couldn't tell which type. However, the interesting part was that most of the colony grew ON said plants. They had managed to create little houses that we're somehow attached to them. The queen was still in a mound down below though. Must have been a recent development. It was named Aerasia. The fourth, and possibly the hardest to find was a colony of Harvester ants. These ones grew near the center point of the garden, a big pond with fish swimming in it and a natural filtration system. They had made their nest in the middle of some bamboo, that was covering each and every bit of it was walled of by the bamboo which grew very tall. I could see that they we're using aphids to feed off of the sap of the bamboo. However, a lot of the colony lived inside the filtration system, which was split in two parts: One filled with rocks and bags of sand which cleaned most of the water and another filled with plants that lived off of the waste which was where they got clean water from. I could also see a hole in the tarp that was covering the walls of the pond so no algae would grow where smoke came out, and using a magnifying glass I found where their main forge is. I haven't come up with a name yet though. Can you help me with that? I'll explain the situation with the other smaller colonies later, now it's getting a little late. See ya.	Situated in a middle sized European town on a small hill within random rows, one with many different and unique homes, stands my house. The house is not particularly impressive looking and it doesn’t have distinct features. So it’s not very eventful. At least that’s how I would introduce it, but I don’t believe in that kind of boring introduction. I like to believe that everyone is incredibly special and should pride themselves for it. I for one am a person captivated by discovery. I simply love finding new things and discovering what the world has to offer then documenting it all. It’s my life goal to find out as much as I can in my lifetime. Right now it a ‘hobby’ but eventually I plan to make it my job, then I’ll be able to spend all of my waking hours perusing what I love. All that being said I never expected for an opportunity as such to present itself this early into my career. Before me stands a colony of ants I discovered after going to some smoke in my backyard. This colony that is very special. In fact, at this moment, it would be more accurate to call it an army. Swarms of little ants with tiny, sharp sticks pointing upwards and covered in shiny bronze plates. They are set in multiple locations and formed Roman legions with their rectangular shining shields. These ants are something never seen before by humans... they... forming a civilisation!? Do they have intelligence? How could this happen? I was exasperated by the sight before me, but more then that somethings welling up from inside me. It’s a feeling of happiness and joy; this discovery, its something incredible, right now, I’m witnessing the birth... of a new race. The ants begin to move towards me staying in formation. They leave their fort looking colony and advance towards the concrete back yard I’m currently on. I’m sure that this will cause great change in the future world. Thanks for reading, this one is really short but feel free to criticise. Find more of my stories at r/kubor04
	[WP] Investigating some smoke rising from your lawn, you discover that the ants below have entered the Bronze Age.	The leaders of a tribe of ants gather around the Hearth to consult with their Shaman on the matter of expansion. All six of them stand before the Shaman, who herself stands before the Queen, and they wait in tense silence as the distant clanging of metal sounds. Their mandibles click nervously as the Shaman addresses them. “Thank you all for coming here. I shall keep this meeting brief, as the Forger needs to maintain her position.” One of the ants nods respectfully, and the Shaman continues. “The colony is booming, and our most benevolent Queen is both healthy and robust, acting as the beating heart that empowers all of us. However, space is limited; as many tunnels as we make, there will eventually come a time when a new colony must be established. That leads us to ask ‘in which way shall we expand?’ As you know, the Grasslands are a dangerous place, filled with both fertile resources as well as terrible predators. The Thorngrove and its wondrous flowers are home to many flying creatures who wish us no clemency. The Concrete Wastes are barren of all life, and lead only to the monster’s den.” All of them stamp their legs on the ground in a warding gesture against the beast. “So it comes to you six, the leaders of our colony and the various castes within it. Where shall we expand?” The Warrior steps forward. “The Grasslands are the most fertile, and my Myrmidons will be able to combat any foe we face. Let them try to prevent our spreading, our most terrible Queen will strike them down!” The Matron shakes her head. “The area is too untamed, we would lose more Myrmidons than ground we would take. We should head to the Thorngrove, that will have the least resistance with an adequate gain.” The Warrior gives a sharp click of her mandibles. “And risk war with the Wasps? We are mighty, but they are deadly.” The Scout steps forward. “Perhaps I can offer an alternative?” The Digger shakes her head. “Here we go again…” The Scout pays her no mind, speaking directly to the Shaman. “Beyond the Concrete Wastes is the den of the monster, yes? Well, my scouts have reported that at the mouth of the beast’s cave is a series of flowers. Wasp free and blooming tomatoes, in fact.” The Matron widens her eyes. “How did you-” The Warrior cuts her off. “Absolutely not. To march the Concrete Wastes is suicide, the beast will find us and-” The Shaman clicks her mandibles and the gathering quiets. She looks at the last ant that has not spoken. “You have yet to speak, Farmer, what are your thoughts on this?” The Farmer tilts her head to either side. “Well… With the aphids and the mushrooms we have here, we have enough of a store that we could send most of the resource gatherers out to where Scout is talking about… And if these plants are really what she says they are, it would be far safer for our aphids than the Thorngrove.” The Matron shakes her head. “But the beast is so close, how would we manage to survive?” The Digger steps forward. “Actually, we could make our colony’s farming chamber right beneath the flowers to maximize the safety of the aphids and harvesters. It’s unconventional… But it just might work.” The Warrior looks to the Forger. “You can’t be listening to all of this, can you?” The Forger walks over to the Hearth, gazing into the inferno. “We have a surplus of scrap… If we send a diversion team to drop it off and distract the beast then-” The Matron shakes her head. “Unbelievable!” She walks up to the Shaman. “You can’t listen to them, we will lose hundreds of workers if we try this. I don’t think I need to remind anyone of the Great Flood.” All of the ants lower their head in respect of the fallen. The beast had held a device that commanded the rains, directing it at whatever poor souls were outside. Nearly a seventh of the colony was lost that day. The Shaman mutters to all assembled. “It is the Queen’s decision, blessed may it be.” She turns around and approaches the queen, dropping her head to the ground. For a full minute, the gathering is silent, before the Queen says something unintelligible to all but the Shaman. The Shaman turns around, cautiously approaching the group. The Warrior tilts her head to the side. “Well?” The Shaman looks at the Warrior, then at the Forger. “Ready the Myrmidons, prepare the scrap. We march for the lair of the beast.” (Criticism is both welcome and appreciated, I hope you enjoyed reading)	Situated in a middle sized European town on a small hill within random rows, one with many different and unique homes, stands my house. The house is not particularly impressive looking and it doesn’t have distinct features. So it’s not very eventful. At least that’s how I would introduce it, but I don’t believe in that kind of boring introduction. I like to believe that everyone is incredibly special and should pride themselves for it. I for one am a person captivated by discovery. I simply love finding new things and discovering what the world has to offer then documenting it all. It’s my life goal to find out as much as I can in my lifetime. Right now it a ‘hobby’ but eventually I plan to make it my job, then I’ll be able to spend all of my waking hours perusing what I love. All that being said I never expected for an opportunity as such to present itself this early into my career. Before me stands a colony of ants I discovered after going to some smoke in my backyard. This colony that is very special. In fact, at this moment, it would be more accurate to call it an army. Swarms of little ants with tiny, sharp sticks pointing upwards and covered in shiny bronze plates. They are set in multiple locations and formed Roman legions with their rectangular shining shields. These ants are something never seen before by humans... they... forming a civilisation!? Do they have intelligence? How could this happen? I was exasperated by the sight before me, but more then that somethings welling up from inside me. It’s a feeling of happiness and joy; this discovery, its something incredible, right now, I’m witnessing the birth... of a new race. The ants begin to move towards me staying in formation. They leave their fort looking colony and advance towards the concrete back yard I’m currently on. I’m sure that this will cause great change in the future world. Thanks for reading, this one is really short but feel free to criticise. Find more of my stories at r/kubor04

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