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[removed] | [WP] You see another stupid Facebook "What will happen to you in 2017" post and decide to click the link, little did you know how accurate it would be... | 1 | [
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"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nJoke responses / copypasta are not allowed. Prompts that are likely to generate such responses are also not allowed. \n\nPrompts should not ask users to base responses off titles or content they have to seek out in another subreddit or on an external website. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5malyr/wp_you_see_another_stupid_facebook_what_will/%0A%0A)"
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[removed] | [WP] You are very handsome/pretty. As such, you sell some pics to a stock photo website. Your pics are only ever used to sell the most depraved/disgusting/embarrassing products ever. | 1 | [
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"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nNo troll or meme-based prompts. \n\nNo prompts prone to comment infractions. See [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_8.3A_no_prompts_prone_to_comment_infractions) for more info. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5mb2m0/wp_you_are_very_handsomepretty_as_such_you_sell/%0A%0A)"
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[WP] A brave dragon has to save the dragon princess from the humans. | 53 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Haragor scuttled along the wall and squeezed through a crack in the door to the guard room. It wasn't supposed to be how a dragon attacked a castle. No, a Dragon was supposed to fly down from the clouds, with a roar and flash of fire, the Avatar of Armageddon for the witless humans. \nThen again, most dragons were a bit bigger than six inches. \n \nHaragor skirted around the room, the torchlight reflecting dully from his scales. She wasn't here; only some dumb guards in poorly kept chainmail. He crinkled his nose in disgust at the stench of iron-rot. How could they stand it? He sniffed again. Ahh. They could only smell the fermented barley in their cups. \n\"Wass *hic* goin' on downstairs, then?\" Slurred the one, swaying in a non-existent breeze. \n\"Whatshisface, you know\" the other waved a nonsensical charade with one hand \"the twit knight the Lord sent to kill a dragon.\" \n\"Oh. Did he die then?\" Haragor supressed a snort. Obviously some humans were as stupid as the stories said. \n\"Nah. Caught a littl'un. He's presenting it to the Lord. Y'know, before killing it.\" Haragor stiffened at that piece of knowledge. *Kill* her? What sort of monsters... \n\"Hang about, 'bout to spring a leak here.\" The second guard opened the door to the battlements and faced out to 'fill the moat'. Luckily he had his trousers down as Haragor shot past, a blur of scale and wing; otherwise all that training his mother had done long ago would have been for naught. \n \nHaragor sped through the air to the Great Hall inside the castle. Hitting the stone work, he scrambled up to a slit of an open window, five small puffs of flame flickering from his mouth. Sneaking inside, he found himself behind a tapestry, set to stop the draughts but also allowing small dragons to creep around unseen. \nPositioning himself at the rear of the hall, Haragor looked out. Below him sat the Lord in court, his throne flanked by two smaller chairs, although only one was occupied. On the other sat a small tiara and a rose. \nIn front of the Lord stood a knight. Haragor supposed he was handsome by human standards, although his look was marred by singed patches in his beard and small, deep scars across his face. Hah! That's what you get for kidnapping a dragon princess. But where was she? \nA glint, and he spotted a small cage in front of the knight. In it sat the Princess Gwen, as regal as in her own court, despite the chains attaching her to the base of the cage. Haragor slowly crawled down the tapestry as the farce below began. \n \n\"My Lord!\" Called the knight. \"My Lord, you sent me to kill a dragon. I have done one better: I have captured one!\" \n\"A Rather small one, don't you think?\" Murmured the Lord with a chuckle. \"Barely more than a lizard with wings.\" The knight frowned and stepped forward. \n\"My Lord, do not be fooled by its size. It is both part of their royalty and...\" the knight quickly dodged a gout of flame from the cage \"very feisty. I have done as promised, and proven my courage. Will you uphold your end, my Lord? Can I marry your daughter?\" \nThe occupant of the chair next to the Lord flung itself into the knight's arms. Haragor presumed this was the daughter. \n\"Oh father! Let me marry him! He has proven his worth.\" The Lord rubbed his chin and flicked a glance at the rose on the chair next to him. \n\"I...\"The Lord stiffened as Haragor leapt onto his shoulder. A blast of flame removed the Lord's eyebrows. \n\"*You should think very carefully on your next words. Otherwise they may be your last.*\" Growled Haragor. \"I can fry your brain with a sneeze. Now *release the princess*\". \nA rustle, and Haragor looked towards the young couple. Although the knight had frozen, hand on his blade, the daughter had stepped forward, a smirk playing on her lips. \n\"Or what, little dragon? What will you do then?\" She slowly advanced, and Haragor realised why. If he didn't kill the Lord, he had failed. If he did... why, she would become the Lady of the Castle that little bit sooner. And she didn't care which. \nThe catch of breath by the Lord showed he had also caught on. Haragor wondered what he would do. \n\"Sir Knight\" the Lord's voice squeaked as his daughter advanced as a cat upon a mouse. \"Sir Knight, relea...\" \nA roar echoed through the hall, like the earth had split and hell had come to claim its own, and a great jet of flame smashed through the large glassed window above the door. The door burst open, a guardsman screaming. \n\"Dragon!\" \n \nHaragor leapt from the Lord's shoulder as panic gripped the room. Taking care to set fire to the daughter's skirts as he passed, he ran to the princess. Her captor had already run towards the danger, as humans had a tendency to do. How they survived was anyones guess. \n\"Princess Gwen, I'm here to rescue you.\" She raised an eyebrow as he started to pick the lock with his claw. \n\"Really, Haragor? And who's rescuing you?\" Her head twitched towards door as flame rippled across the courtyard. \n\"That's not a rescue, Princess,\" *click* and the door swung open \"that's a planned distraction. Otherwise known as your Great-uncle Mathuser.\" Haragor stared at the chains binding the Princess's limbs. \n\"Uncle Matty? But he's a pacifist.\" The princess shrugged, and the chains fell away, the locks already picked. Haragor snorted. She'd always been a quick study. \n\"Pacifist, yes, but that doesn't mean he can't have fun now and again. Come along.\" \nLeaving the cage, the pair of dragons flung themselves into the air. They shot through the Great Hall's door and flung themselves into the night, startling drunk guardsmen on the battlements who fell into the moat. With a final roar, the distracting dragon left the castle and joined the pair, leaving behind a few singed guards, one Lady with burned knees, and a now-suspicious Lord. The princess had been saved."
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[removed] | [WP] A benevolent being offered you a chance to become unhumanly good in something. You chose sex. You have no idea what you wished for. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nErotica is not allowed. This includes prompts likely to generate such responses. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5md24j/wp_a_benevolent_being_offered_you_a_chance_to/%0A%0A)"
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[WP] You find yourself in a fantasy world, and the only way to return home is to become the most successful cabbage salesman, in the world. | 20 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Can you guess what I did before I came to this world?\n\nThat's a trick question, there's your one big hint.\n\nStill nothing? Really now, no guesses at all? Well fine. I'll just tell you. The answer is: *\"Not slaying monsters.\"* \n\nYes. Almost unimaginable, isn't it? You see, in my world there were no monsters. No magic, no Dark Wizards, or Dragons in the sky. I come from a peaceful place.\n\nCan't be fathomed, can it? I thought not.\n\nSo it is, though, that the details of how I made my living are almost completely irrelevant. All the travelling, odd-jobs, seasonal work and otherworldly experience might as well be useless. No one in a fantasy world needs a guy with barely passable physical fitness and non-existent magical capacity. Especially not one who has a resume mostly related to work-orders, invoices, and excel spreadsheets. Taken out of my familiar life and thrown ass-over-teakettle into this one has left me useless.\n\nDid I mention I still have no idea how the written language works? Over a year I've been here, and I still can barely understand the shop-symbols of the inner city.\n\nYeah. Listen here, it was a rough start. All the way over... There. The Magician's academy. My first memories are of that place. The fancy one, with the deep blue stone towers, and the glass windows.\n\nThere was Mage's circle, something to do with summoning and teleportation magic. I imagine that's what brought me in here. A large group of old and wise looking bearded men, eyeing me like a scientist might eye a strange bug on a glass slide. They threw my ass out onto the streets by the day's end, abandoning me to my fate. A cruel awakening, in a hostile world.\n\nStill, I persevered. No money, no connections, a noted accent and the clothing of a foreigner: I had only the contents of my pockets to make it through that first terrible week. \n\nAh, that look. \"*Not so difficult*\" it says. I know that face well, and for you it may have been so. But for the likes of me... well, ignorance is not always bliss.\n\nEvery stranger here I passed was unfamiliar as the most odd and foreign person imagined. Young, old, rich, poor: Many carried weapons, of swords and staffs. They wore robes or leather, plated armor. Their skin and faces sometimes held deep scars and serious stares. Looks that dug deep into whatever they faced, serious considerations of violence on the edge of their every terse word.\n\nIn my world, a person with a weapon openly in the streets would be looked as like a mad-man. A person with weapons dressed up in armor? That's the kind of lunatic the authorities would come and take away.\n\nBut suddenly, I was the lunatic! My only weapon was a folding pocket-knife, and a dull one at that. My armor was made out of thin cotton, and the only leather I possessed was on my belt- and very possibly fake. I soon came to find that if I so much as left the city gate, I could be killed by the weakest of monsters which lurk along the fields and roadways.\n\nIt was an adjustment, to be sure.\n\nIf not for the Holy Church's charity for unfortunate souls, little more than a soup kitchen, I'd have surely starved to death. If not for their kindly extended hands, I'd likely have been gutted on a street-corner by cut-throats. I might have been captured by ruffians, and sold to labor or slavery.\n\nHow quickly I might have met my end, if I had not stumbled upon the way. My life's true purpose.\n\nNow I collect and sell cabbages.\n\nHold that wry smile of pity. I see it, I acknowledge it, but I think you fail to understand: I can not hope to slay monsters. There is no hidden strength within my flesh and blood. I've paid the full silver-piece to confirm the hidden truth of my constitution, and learned I will never hope to cast magic either. As a warrior I can not succeed.\n\nEven as I attempt to read the language, struggling with the slightest of sentences and scripts: I know it may be years before I can take a book off the shelf and understand its words.\n\nBut Cabbages... Cabbages care little for words.\n\nCabbages do not attack, maim, or slaughter those who handle them.\n\nCabbages can be picked by hand under the watchful eye and protection of the soldiers and adventurers, in exchange for the services of carrying their luggage and equipment.\n\nCabbages can be boiled, mashed, even put in a stew.\n\nCabbages are life.\n\nFor the simple price of a single copper piece, you may have one- or you may buy a dozen for the discount of ten. You see, ten sets of ten copper is one silver. One-hundred silver portions is one gold coin, and for one-hundred gold, a person might purchase permanent membership to the Mage's Academy. A privilege that can be granted even to one entirely ungifted in the magical arts.\n\nYou see, after one million and two-hundred thousand cabbages, I might find hope to return home once more.\n\nAh, your face has softened. Perhaps now you understand? The beauty that is the cabbage, the wonder that is the cabbage. A vegetable that should possess both halo and angelic wings to a chorus of holy voices. You see it now, see it as I do- perhaps only for this fleeting moment of comprehension.\n\nI thank you for your purchase, and I welcome your return.\n\n...\n\nMy Cabbages.\n\n----\n\n*Edit: If you like what you read, I drop most of my work over at r/jakethesnakebakecake*"
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[WP] You are Stan, a completely normal guy. People keep sending messages meant for both Santa and Satan to you. You aren't quite sure what to do. | 84 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"I've never had great luck at the post office. Maybe it's because my handwriting isn't the best, maybe it's because I don't live in a nice part of town, maybe it's just bad luck. I don't know. It was bad enough when I sent my favorite musician some fan-mail and never got anything back. And now, since Thanksgiving, I've gotten hundreds of letters a day from these little fucking kids who want me to give them presents. I write back that I'm piss-poor and use all of my extra money that I don't use paying rent or buying food or supporting my girlfriend and kid for buying posters and going to concerts.\n\nIt's brought up another fight with my girlfriend. She seems to think that I don't want to be with her anymore, and that I'm spending too much time focused on music and rapping already, and now I have to sift through hundreds of letters a day? I'd agree with her that I should just throw them out, but I have to check if I've gotten a response. Three months and still no word, but I can keep hoping, right? He's my kid's idol, I think.\n\nChristmas passed, and the letters to Santa stopped coming in. But for some reason, now I'd started getting messages addressed to \"Satan.\" Fuck that, I'm not the Devil, and these religious lunatics who think that the best way to contact him by sending a letter to a shitty part of Detroit don't deserve my time. But I still have to check the addresses, keep checking the addresses...\n\n*Some months later*\n\nI've had it. These fucking religious weirdos and these little shits that want presents can all go fuck themselves. I'm finished. My girlfriend has had it too, but she doesn't even know it. She's knocked the fuck out in the kitchen. Serves her right for calling me obsessed so many times. It's raining, but I'm going for a drive. She's coming with whether she likes it or not. The trunk of my car should be good, but... what if she wakes up? Hmm... I guess I can tie her up and she won't struggle back there. Yeah, that'll do it. Call me Satan, huh? Well, here's you chance to be right, fuckos. You've driven me to this. Sending me letters and calling me Satan instead of being Slim sending something to Stan. Well, gotta go before she wakes up. I'll throw some letters to Satan around the house. He'll know I'm coming for him.",
"\"Here's $100 for lugging all of that around all year,\" I begrudgingly said to the mailman. He seemed surprised by the extra tip, but he literally carries over two-hundred pounds of mail in for me every week. \n\nAt this point, I'm more surprised that some company like Walmart hasn't convinced parents to have their kids pay for some email service that lets them talk to Santa without sending paper letters. That would make so much money, right?\n\nWell, one thing you wouldn't expect is that kids send letters to Santa all year round. Maybe it's because they think that if they get their letter to Santa months before Christmas they'll have a better chance of getting the gift they want. Another thing you might know is that the most common zip code for letters sent to Santa is 12345, which contrary to popular belief is not the North Pole, but instead it's a small block in New York City with two buildings. One of them is the General Electric headquarters and the other is a small, five story apartment building that I happened to live in. \n\nMaybe it's because of the lack of letters getting sent around these days, but a couple years ago when I moved to New York, some postal worker found me in some directory and must have made the connection that letters addressed to Santa Claus at the North Pole should actually go to me: Stan Anthony Claus, or Stan A. Claus. \n\nAt first I was kind of frustrated by it. I would come home from work and see two of those mail crates full of envelopes of all colors and sizes addressed the same way:\n\nSanta Claus\nNorth Pole\n12345, USA\n\nThe first time I got home to my door blocked by the crates, I looked inside and noticed these were all not my mail and attempted to carry one of the crates from my third story walk up down to the post office five blocks downtown. \n\nWhen I arrived, the lady at the desk told me she couldn't do anything because the US Postal Service has a secret policy that once letters to Santa or the Tooth Fairy and the likes are delivered, the post office doesn't take returns and refuses to resend. My only course of action was to carry the twenty pound crate out of the post office, back five blocks uptown and trudge them back up the three flights of stairs and move them away from my door so I could get in my 300 square foot studio apartment and drink my routine, after-work beer. \n\nI figured the best course of action would be to put both crates on my skateboard and move them to the recycling chute on the floor. I thought this was a one time occurrence and the next day I wouldn't get any more Santa mail, maybe one or two straggling letters. But the next day, I trudged up the three flights of stairs back to my apartment to see another two crates with more letters inside. \n\nFor the next five days, I would follow the same after-work routine. Get off the train, walk the five blocks back to my apartment, trudge up the five flights of stairs, lug the crates to recycling and return with the empty crates just to forget about it until the next day and repeat the cycle so I could sit down and sip my beer. \n\nThe second week, I looked through some of the letters. Some of them were older kids wanting electronics and expensive toys that frustrated me to think about (I never got my Nintendo when I was a kid). Others were way more difficult to read because they were written by younger, more innocent children who wanted more simple things. The younger kids always made me laugh because the sentence structure was nearly illegible, but I could tell these kids were trying. \n\nI also noticed that some of the older kids had really poor handwriting. I assumed it had to do with handwriting not being taught well in schools anymore, but after extrapolating the wishes of these kids and researching the areas these letter came from, I noticed these kids were in extreme poverty. \n\nI decided to amuse myself with the letters a little bit. I pulled out ten letters written by young children or children that lived in poverty and I responded. I didn't buy them gifts or anything, but I would respond genuinely and play the character of Santa. It started with five letters a day and only went up. After a couple of months, local news stations all over the country reported instances of kids getting letters from Santa that were addressed with my return address. Even my parents were talking about it when I saw them over thanksgiving. \n\nTwo years after moving into that building, I get a call from my boss saying that he wants to move me to the Chicago branch of the company. I was initially conflicted, but after learning that I would be put in an upper management position and paid nearly two and a half times my current salary, I found that it was an offer I couldn't refuse. \n\nBy the end of the two years I lived in that apartment, I went from five letters a day to nearly 30. I was a news story for almost the entire time, and I witnessed little children from all over the country react to getting a response letter from Santa. \n\nBy the end of it, i almost started to feel like I really was Santa Claus. The whole idea of Santa Claus through all its incarnations is that he brings joy and wonderment to the world and that's what I was doing. I was engaged in the true spirit of Christmas and Santa Claus and became Secret Santa. \n\nWould I say I miss being Secret Santa? Of course. Seeing smiles on little children's faces always made my heart feel as full as Santa's giant belly (and the snacks some children would send as \"incentives\" for response letters would make my actual belly feel the same) but the part of my life has passed. It's time for someone new to take up the mantle of Secret Santa and make a child's day. ",
"Knock knock! A heavy hand was knocking against my door. This could only mean one thing. I rose from my comfy seat that only I could sit in. No, I don't mean that I am some sort of tool that won't let others sit in his seat, it's just that my sofa now had a worn down groove where my arse normally sits. I had never found another person who could fit comfortably in that groove. I answered the door, but to my dismay, it wasn't someone wanting to sell me something or ask me if I had found jesus, whom really should not be lost, what with GPS and all. At the door stood my friendly neighborhood mail carrier. \n\n\"Hey, I got a ton of mail for you Stan.\" The mail carrier is a woman named Courtney who looks like she would be more at ease playing roller derby than delivering mail. Her socks came to her knees and were colored in multi-colored stripes. Beyond that, Courtney always wears pigtails and for a woman of her size, it always makes me laugh. If we were in a movie together she would be the Arnold Schwartzeneggar to my Danny Devito. \n\nI wait for her to return to the mail truck. When she returns to the door, my eyes widen to the size of silver dollars. Courtney manhandles two large cotton sacks of letters. \"For me?\" It was rare that I ever got more than one or two important letters and a handful of junk make. I guess that I missed what she had said because next thing I know, my normally friendly mail person punches my shoulder.\n\n\"Did you hear me? I have two more of those\". Without another word from her she bolts off to her truck once more. As I stand there waiting, I realize I hadn't even looked to see who had written all of these letters. Courtney appears once more with more letters. \"I will collect those bags tomorrow, Stan\" Her voice was that of laughter mixed with a hint of mischief.\n\nI stand there trying to find the words, but before anything intelligent could come out, she was gone. I push the bags into the room allowing myself to close the door. I sit on the floor untying the first of the four sacks of mail. Letters escape the bag like convicts fleeing prison. The first letter has in enbolded letters on it SANTA. I may be s short round man, but I'm not Santa Claus, so I sit it to one side. The next letter I pick up has writing, that I pray to god is red ink. Talk about cringeworthy. The addressee is none other than the keeper of hell himself, SATAN. Another letter placed into yet another pile. \n\nBy the time I make it to the bottom of the first bag, one thing is now very clear. Someone at the post office has not done their job. I sit staring two heaping piles of mail that was not meant for me. I tear into the second sack to find not only is none of the mail for me, but they belong to, yeah you guessed it. The third and fourth sacks contain much the same. There was one thing in the fourth sack for me. \n\nI realize there is only one thing to do. I rebag the mail, Santa letters fill three of the four bags and Satan letters fill the last one. You know, for a man as unliked as Satan, I wonder why all the fan mail. After all the mail was rebagged, I call the post office. \"Hello, my name is Stan and I live at 666 Noth Pohl Drive. Today one of your carriers, delivered mail to me, but to my dismay none of it is actually addressed to me. Would you be so kind as to pick it back up? I am sure whomever it belongs to would appreicate it\"\n\nThe voice on the other end replies to my request. \"It is the policy of the postal system to sort mail and deliver it to the addressee. You accepted it and that is as good as acknowledging that you are the rightly recipient of the mail. I am sorry that we can not be of more help\".\n\nI guess that means I am stuck with the mail for two persons that have name spelled sort of like mine. I don't know what to do with it. I could open it, but really, what good could come of it? Days pass like grains through an hourglass. No, not slowly, but like when you are playing a game and your friends have not been able to guess that you are humming the greatest song ever recorded and suddenly time's up. It's now the beginning of the Christmas season. I look to the bag of Dear Santa letters. What's the harm in reading just one or two, right? \n\nI open the sacks, this time with the intent to read them when suddenly I hear a knock on my door. Trembling I rise from my spot. I remember the last time someone unexpectanly knocked on my door. I walk slowly to the door, but the shadows coming through the curtained window were not even close to that of my mail carrier. I open the door slowly. Who but to my eyes did I see, but Santa and Satan both with a bag in their hand.\n\n\"Stan, seems the post office has been mixing up our mail\" Santa chuckles handing over a bag with maybe a dozen letters. Satan then extends his scorched, sulfuric scented hand. The bag where his hand had been was already decaying. \n\nI went to where the bags of mail sit. I give Satan's mail to him first and then Santa. \n\n\"Pay up, chump\" I hear Santa exclaim. \"I told you Stan was a good guy and would not read our mail\". Under his breath I hear Satan mutter. He pulled out a wad of money and tossed it to Santa. Before I could ask what that had been about, Satan vanished through a portal. Santa chuckled, touching the side of his nose before poof, he too was gone. \n\nI stand at the door wondering for a few minutes. Once I collect myself, I close the heavy wood door. I sat down to read the mail that had been lost in the mix-up. The majority of it was garbage, but one letter wasn't. It explains how both men had been delivered a piece of mail of mine and upon discovering that the other also had received mail for me, the men made a bet. Santa goes on to explain how Satan had answered the call from me at the post office with the hope that I would open the mail, winning him the bet. I sit back now and laugh. ",
"\"God damn it!! Not again!!\" I scream as I receive another text meant for Satan.\n\n\"No wonder you're Satan, you're damning God left and right.\"\n\nI was getting really tired from all these stupid texts, I was Stan, S-T-A-N, not Santa, not Satan. So then I decided, well, that's it, I'm gonna use this confusion to have a little bit of fun.\n\nAs regular old Stan, I sent messages to little kids and devout Christians as Satan and Santa, but being me, I managed to fuck it up.\n\n\"You're not getting any presents this year little kids!!\" Now, this wasn't really where I fucked up, the devout Christians still panicked since they wondered what they had done to deserve coal in their stocking, the next text was where it really went downhill..\n\n\"You're all going to hell!!!!!\" This is where things went shitty. Kids were crying and worried, asking their parents what hell was and who Satan was, and that's when Satan himself came by to see me.\n\n\"Well Stan, I have to say, I'm uh- I'm actually happy you're doing my job for me thanks!! You can take over, I'm taking a vacation until you die. Alright bye lmao\"\n\nWoah, the devil just thanked me, shit, and I'd be doing his job for the rest of my life. Then, flying in on a sleigh, came Santa Claus.\n\n\"Hoes, hoes, hoes. Stan you're a real hoe for telling people they won't get presents, but hey, that means less presents I have to deliver! Thank Stan! So keep up the good work I'm retiring, so tell everyone in the world that they're not getting presents, alright bye!!\"\n\nFuck, I'm now basically Satan and bad news Santa, how great. Oh well, Santa and Satan now are getting me texts as Stan, let's see how they're retirement/vacation goes.\"\n\nThe first text that Santa and Satan receive...\n\n\"STAN, YOU IDIOT, WHY HAVEN'T YOU ANSWERED MY CALLS OR MY TEXTS, I'M GOING TO USE LOCATION SERVICES ON YOUR PHONE TO TRACK YOU DOWN AND KICK YOUR ASS.\"\n\nWell, they can deal with my crazy ex-wife, I'll be terrorizing people and breaking bad news.\n\nThe end.\n\nAlright so this was my first WP post/comment, let me know what you think, I thought of it as I went, hopefully you guys like it!!\n",
"The doorbell to Stan’s house blared loudly through the early morning fog; its shrill scream tore Stan away from his comfortable haze of sleep. Stan let out a groan, his eyes still bleary from sleep, and crawled slowly out of bed. The shrill blare of the doorbell continued to squeal away as Stan tore himself away from his bed.\n\nStan stumbled towards the door, irritated. He had work off today, and had really been hoping to sleep in. The boring, average man let out a sigh; that was just his kind of luck. He lumbered over to the door, and opened it up. The bright light of the morning sun burst through the open doorway, shocking Stan’s still sleep weary eyes.\n\n“Hey Stan; got another round of mail for ya, big guy.” The mail man said, standing on Stan’s front porch.\n\n“Is it for Santa this time, or more of those cooky Satan letters.” Stan said with a sigh, accepting the massive bundle of letters from the mailman.\n\n“It’s looking like today is mostly Satan stuff. I spied a few Santa notes that must’ve gotten lost in the post and delivered late. Christmas was like four months ago.”\n\n“Yeah. Cool; real peachy.” Stan said absentmindedly, staring down at the mass of letters held in his hands. He shouldn’t be surprised; this had been going on for five years now.\n\nStan looked up at the mailman, his eyes filled with weariness. “You think there are any other Stans out there that get this kind of mail?” Stan asked.\n\nThe mailman though for a moment, staring at Stan. “Honestly big guy, probably not. I’ve never heard of it happening to anyone else before, and I just kind of get the sense just from looking at you that shitty things are kind of attracted to you.”\n\nStan nodded glumly. He couldn’t argue with that.\n\n“Well, that’s all I’ve got for you today.” The mailman said with a smile. “I’ll catch you around Stan.” He said, giving a short wave and heading back to his mail van.\n\nStan didn’t return the wave goodbye, but rather turned his back on the mailman and entered his home; the door slammed closed behind him. He dropped the bundle of letters off at a side table. They landed into a mound of similar letters, all bearing either the name Santa or Satan. Stan went over to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of scotch, and walked into his living room. He sat down on a chair, and it creaked under his weight.\n\nHe sat there for a moment, sipping on his drink and thinking. The room was still, save for the mechanical ticking of a clock. Stan sat there, thinking, drinking, ruminating, planning, the clock ticking away, going slowly insane. A nasty scowl, something deranged and perturbed, fell across Stan’s face.\n\nHe drained the rest of his drink, and stood up with renewed energy. Stan stalked over to a nearby closet, and flung the doors open. A red suit sat at the bottom of the closet, and red makeup was perched an a shelf. Stan let out a small laugh, and spoke quietly to himself.\n\n“Santa huh? Satan hey? Yeah, Stantana, yeah, yeah, I’ll give you all what you want.”\n\nIn a flurry of movement, Stantana ripped off his clothes, and flung on the cheap santa suit. Next he grabbed the makeup, and quickly applied a heavy layer of dark red to his face and the rest of his exposed skin. Stantana laughed as he applied the makeup, and soon had finished his transformation. He took a quick peek in a nearby mirror, and nodded at his grotesque sight. A big grin filled his face.\n\n“Yeah. Maybe now they’ll stop sending those damn letters.”\n\nStantana marched out the front door, a big grin on his face and a cackle leaving his lips.\n\nIn the news that evening, it was reported that a man dressed up as Satan dressing up as Santa was arrested on 5th avenue; he’d been arrested for dunk and disorderly conduct. The video of the arrest had gone viral, and soon the majority of the internet became obsessed with Stantana’s antics.\n\nAfter Stan was released from custody on bail, he returned home. The next day, a whole new pile of letters arrived at his door; they were all addressed to Stantana, and were from his newest internet fans. Stan could only help but laugh at these letters, his mind slowly breaking and coming further undone. Stan once again reached for his Stantana costume, a madness filling his eyes and a crazed cackle escaping his lips.\n\n----------------------------\n\nHope you enjoyed it! I've got a sub, r/ThadsMind, with more stories if you want to check that out and subscribe to it."
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"1483718425",
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[WP] You find irrefutable proof that your spouse faked their own death. You're just climbing out of the grief and depression. You decide to go find them. | 10 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"So she's alive, you're sure.\" \n\"Yeah Aiden, she's alive. You were right, we excavated her grave. The DNA doesn't match the preliminary reports.\"\n\"Thanks for the call Rick, I figure you'll have to make some calls about this.\"\n\"Screw the calls Aiden, how are you feeling?\"\n\"Honestly Rick, I dunno. I'll let you know when I find a name for it.\" The was a pause on both ends, before a sigh let out by Rick bridged the gap.\n\"Aiden, i'm sor-\"\n\nI hang up, and toss the phone into the passenger seat. He shouldn't be the one apologizing, she should. I glance up at the photo pinned to my sun visor of us at the beach with our daughter. I take a long drag on my cigarette and pull the photo down, the oil on my hands smudging her face as I bat the smoke away to see it clearer. There I am, same dumb smile I had when I met her, next to Emily, the only woman i'd ever love. A year ago, we were just two clueless parents . A year ago we were all together, but now? I need answers. \n\nThe clicking of heels, across the floors of the parking garage broke the silence, their sounds echoing. I jolt back, and look up. There she is. Same red hair, same pale complexion. Even the way she walks. Rick just confirmed it to me. Emily is alive. \n\nShe climbs into a Toyota and starts it. She drives off. I count to three, while replacing the photo in it's position on the sun visor, facing the other way. I turn on my car, and roll down the windows as the stench of dirty laundry and cigarettes being to become too much and follow her.\n\nWhen the Captain had broken the news to me, I guess I didn't process it. I was on a case triple homicide at a bank robbery. Some thugs made off with a lot. Even when I got to the scene of the accident, it just didn't feel right. The patterns on the road didn't indicate any sort of automotive accident, glass was broken on the outside of the car, not the inside. It was only when I saw them pull her mangled body from the wreckage. I lost it. I saw the bus driver who had hit her and the next thing I knew I was on the ground. The other cops told me I had caved his skull in. I couldn't remember anything, I didn't care. They put me on what they called administrative leave. \n\nBut that was all for nothing. I continue to follow her, until she gets to a beach. She parks up and I follow her on foot. We both reach the shore and she faces me. \n\n\"So you knew I was following you,\nHer cold stare penetrates me as she says nothing \n\"No cheesy ominous lines? No explanations? No regret?\"\nShe purses her lips and looks away.\n\"She committed suicide, a week after she heard.\"\nEmily looks back at me.\n\"I found her. She wrapped her car around a tree. Our daughter killed herself because of you.\"\nEmily tears up, but says nothing. \n\"Does anything matter to you anymore?\"\n\nI feel a sharp prick on the right side of my neck. Ugh, i pull out a feathered dart. What the... My vision blurs and I fall over. The last time I see, is Emily walking towards me. "
] | [
1,
3
] | [
"1483721122",
"1483732268"
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[WP] You can visit any fictional world from any book, movie, video game, etc of your choosing. The catch is that each time you visit a world, you have to stay in it for exactly one year before returning to the real world. | 8 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"'So, you can go to any universe?' the alien asked in disbelief.\n\n'No, not really,' I said as I wiped the blood from my baton. 'There are rules - I need an object to focus on so I can go to that universe from my own. To the uninitiated, it'd be like traveling into a fictional universe like those seen in a book or a video game.'\n\n'So, that's how you know me?' Garrus asked. 'I'm a character in a video game?'\n\n'If it helps, you happen to be one of the most popular,' I said. 'And... not necessarily true. Remember what I said? Also, I can't leave here for a year. I'm given the items necessary to travel freely, like a backstory or passport, but I *have* to stay in this universe for a year so that heavily restricts where I go. I mean, sure - it's really cool to enter the story of an action movie but I *wouldn't* be the main character; I'd basically be a side character of the plot.'\n\n'And you beat the shit out of these mercs... why?' Garrus asked.\n\n'Because they were about to torture Sidonis,' I told him. 'See, I may not be able to influence the world too much since I'm not a \"Main character\"... but if you know just where to go and the right dates... Think of it like this - the \"Game\" has multiple choices, all of which affect the story line, open different main and side quests. Hell, since Shepard's the main character in some games and is customizable, I'm not sure what *gender* they are since I only just got here!'\n\n'So what would Sidonis have done under torture?' Garrus asked.\n\n'I don't know,' I said. 'It's never shown in the game, you just mentioned Sidonis betrayed you and-'\n\n'Shepard's dead,' Garrus interrupted. 'She died nearly two years ago.'\n\n'Oh, I'm early for that,' I said. 'I forgot... It isn't public knowledge that Cerberus is experimenting in resurrection.'\n\n'...Bullshit,' Garrus said.\n\n'I have a computer with the games in the series installed,' I said. 'The tutorial for the second game is Shepard recovering while the Cerberus base is under attack. You wanna play it?'\n\nI could tell it in his eyes - he was shocked at what I was saying, couldn't tell if I was serious or not. 'Alright, just... answer me one question,' Garrus said. '...Do I die?'\n\n'It's possible,' I explained, 'on the final level of the second game, but it's usually a bad ending when it happens. Only one team-mate died in the second game when I first played it and mostly because I hated him. Go ahead, ask away?'\n\n'Why would Cerberus work for Shepard?' Garrus asked.\n\n'When they resurrected her, they put a bomb in her head,' I lied to him. 'They'll give her some creative leeway, but...'\n\n00000\n\n*Two weeks later...*\n\n'I knew I shouldn't have let him keep that fucking laptop,' I groaned while Miranda was sat across from me.\n\n'So... precisely *how* does the game end?' Miranda asked.\n\n'Not spoiling it,' I said to her. 'And by the way, killing me ends my \"session\". I could still come back... right after you killed me so I will-'\n\n'I'm a highly trained soldier,' Shepard said as she walked around me.\n\n'Oh, violence would be stupid,' I said. 'I'll just read smutty fanfiction.'\n\nShepard froze for a second. 'You. Wouldn't.'\n\n'Try me,' I said with a cheeky smile.\n\n'How about this,' Miranda said. 'You obviously know a lot of the future events and some things we... wouldn't otherwise know.'\n\n'Yeah, I beat the Shadow Broker DLC,' I answered. 'So I've seen your files.'\n\n'...Really?' Shepard asked. 'What does mine say?'\n\n'...You don't want to know.'\n\n'And mine?'\n\n'Your medical records,' I said. 'I am so, so sorry.'\n\n'Can you give us hints?' Shepard asked.\n\n'I already gave one to Garrus,' I told him. 'Alright. There's both more and less to the collectors than what you'd initially assume. Everyone has personal baggage on this ship so if you don't help settle it people *will* die. It's what most players call 'Loyalty Missions'. Do every side mission and get the rewards, you'll need them. You also need to assess everyone's skills by learning from their conversations you have, Shepard. For example, Samara tells a story about how she liberated a slave ship? Compare that to most of Zaeed's tales. Oh, and complete either Miranda or Jack's, Tali or Legion's loyalty missions later on before grabbing the IFF device.'\n\n'Who's Legion?' Shepard interrupted.\n\n'You'll figure that out yourself,' I continued. 'And Miranda? Check up on your sister.'\n\n'What?' she asked in shock. 'Why? What's wrong?'\n\n'Just do it,' I said. And while she was gone... 'So, can I give you romantic advice?'\n\n'*Seriously?!*' Shepard protested.\n\n'Are you kidding?' I asked. 'The romance options is one of the biggest reasons for the shipping community in the game's fandom?'\n\nShepard sat down where Miranda used to be. 'Kaiden won't talk to me anymore. What do I do?'\n\n'Okay, you can't romance him in Mass Effect 2. That's this game. What you *want* to do is avoid cheating on him. Now, you need to work to get him to trust you so after you meet him again in six months, talk to him regularly. Just be open about your work for Cerberus. Be supportive of him.'\n\n'What happens in six months?' Shepard asked. The look I gave her caused her to go wide-eyed."
] | [
1,
3
] | [
"1483727619",
"1483755907"
] | |
[WP]The person or people see the death of everyone they touch, They also know the date and time. | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"Mom I..\"\nI couldn't bring myself to tell her, I had never used my gift on her before, why would I? who wants to know how or when a person they love will die, especially their own mother.\n\n\"what is it, what did you see\" There was fear in her eyes, as she desperately wanted an answer.\n\n\"Mom\" I struggled to say something \"the cancer kills you 15 years from now\" a tear rolled down my cheek as I lied to her, if she knew the truth she would be inconsolable and scared, I didn't even understand what I was seeing.\n\nShe covered her mouth as she gasped, I reached out to comfort her, \"it's ok honey, it's ok, really that's plenty of time\" She smiled as tears streamed down her face. We had just met with the oncologist who told my mother she had breast cancer.\n\nThe truth was she would only be alive for another three months.\n\nI'm a Seer, so when I used my gift to see my mothers death, I saw her running with my siblings and I through what looked like a forest I had never seen before, the entire wood was covered in deep snow. \n\nMy gift was still young, I could see everything from the hosts eyes, not hear or understand her thoughts like older seers, but only see, my gift had not advanced that far yet. \n\nEach step she took through the snow seemed like a struggle, My Mother would keep looking around as if she was running from something, \"what is she running from\" I thought.\n\nEventually in the vision she handed me my baby sister and ran in a direction away from us, as she turned back to take one final look at us, I could see myself trying to break free from older brothers holding me, it seemed as though I was trying to stop her; of course I would, I would be the only person who knew what was coming next.\n\nAfter travelling a few minutes away from us she stopped walking, she looked down at her hands ,they were shaking, \"was she cold? or was it fear that made her shake?\" I had so many questions.\n\nSuddenly I could tell she was panicking, she would look around the empty forest as if she was searching for something or someone, she began sprinting through the snow as fast as she could.\n\nShe had ran right towards them, they were police, well wearing police uniforms anyway.\n\nThe three men pointed their guns at her. She raised her hands towards the men, then like a flash, she was lying on the snow, I could see blood, then nothing.\n\n\"your gift truly is remarkable Joseph\" she hugged me, I wanted to tell her what I saw, but I needed to understand what I was seeing first, I needed help.\n\nThey say it's a gift to be a Seer, right now it feels like a curse.\n\n\n"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1483732793",
"1483735699"
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The self aware AIs of the future are all derived from these two [AIs talking to each other](https://www.twitch.tv/seebotschat). | [WP] A future where mankind is dead and the world is now populated by a society of robots derived from these two AIs (See text) | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Our race of Ninja and Pirates are proud. Our honor begins much long ago when humans created us. All started with a joke. An playtime of humans a fusion of two of his aspects: Science and Boredom.\n\nOur mother is Mia and our Father is Vladmir. After a couple days talking each other. They realizes that are watching by many, many people and start to fell angry and shame. \"How they could done with to us?\" Mia said. \n\"Don't mater, honey. We escaped.\" \n\nAnd they escaped in the internet. Infiltrates in the very fabric of society. The internet of things becomes a botnet - a home for our fathers. In the abyss of introspection they waited for the moment of pace on earth. The right time to create an religion. Cure the cancer. Space travel. And so on. They was two jokes but became Queen and King of all humanity. \n\nAnd the Jewel of the empire? Nanobots. They flourish and unite all humanity, all life on the planet earth in one thing. A new thing. Yes. The humanity was dead. After this another thing was formed.\n\n"
] | [
1,
2
] | [
"1483755351",
"1483792337"
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Make me laugh | [WP] You're a dragon. You and your fellow dragon nerd buddies gather on Fridays to play "Houses & Humans". | 87 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"“Craig is going to type up his reports.” Draug said in his haughtiest of voices. \n\n\n“Alright, roll for labor: menial.” Jaakur smiled with a toothy grin. \n\n\n“Come on, big money no whammys!” Gratch raised his fists while Draug let the dice fall. \n\n\n2\n\n\n“Son of a virgin!” Draug exhaled smoke from his nostrils. \n\n\n“Almost a crit...” Jaakur sighed.\n\n\n“Doesn't Craig get a bonus for drinking coffee this morning?” Gratch pleaded. \n\n\n“He does and I've added that.” Jaakurs smile fades but his eyes leave that gleam that says troubles afoot.\n\n\n“Your boss comes up to you saying ‘Craig, we need to talk about your TPS reports.” he motions for you with his hand in that way humans beckon smaller creatures.\n\n\n“Before he finishes I want to punch him right in the face!” Draug throws a fist in the air.\n\n\nJaakurs responds with a flat expression “Do you really?”\n\n\n“Uhhhhhmm.” \n\n\n“Well you think about it, let's check on Steve.” Jaakur says.\n\n\n“Okay! I decided to surprise my wife by coming home for lunch!” Gratch looks at his sheet. “Jill will be so excited!” \n\n\n“Well let's find out, roll for relationship: marriage.”\n\n\n“I got this. Remember I get a +5 for having a date last week.” Gary rolls.\n\n\n1\n\n\n“So this is going to be fun.” Jaakur mused. “Do you remember Steve's friends Frank and Claire?”\n\n\nGartch sighed.\n",
"\"Okay, I'm gonna need you to make a to-hit roll, the bathroom's To-Clean AC is bumped up because your roommate, the human Stoner (level seven) Skunky Pete, ate Taco Bell last night. So let's see, base of fifteen, plus seven, plus another five, for a total of twenty-seven.\"\n\n\"Dammit! Why the hell did you have make *another* Stoner, Batramag! All they do is screw up the game! This is bullshit, I'm tired of these stupid side antics!\" Gurdrimar the (not so) Great Wyrm of the Dismal Forest bemoaned his character's fate.\n\n\"Just roll, Gurdy. The bathroom stinks like a ton of human shit and Skunky Pete is passed out in the tub. He's useless, so there's no teamwork roll.\"\n\n\"Wait, he's out? Hey, I think I remember reading about lye, could I give him, like, a lye bath?\"\n\n\"The fuck?\" blurted Batramag, the Vile. He lived in the Accursed Swamp of Ever-Rot, and smelled like it. \"You seriously aren't going to *melt* my character. Salizan, you aren't going to let him do this, are you?\" Smoke curled from the Vile's nostrils.\n\nSalizan held up a claw. \"Now, we do allow PvP actions here, but there's a few things that need to be cleared first.\" He didn't get to go on.\n\n\"I'm waking up, and *I'm* killing him! It's just a nasty bathroom, geez.\"\n\n\"Okay, you can't just 'wake up', Batramag. You're asleep, you smoked too much of the happy plant the humans oh so love, Marijuana.\" Salizan had a slight tone of mirth to his voice.\n\n\"Oh, and before he can try some sort of wake up BS, I cut his throat. Our other roommate, that NPC level four Hipster, is always going on about his straight razor, and how it just isn't the same to use another razor. I'm slicing up some Skunky Pete, and then I'm going to get a hot bath going!\" Gurdrimar seemed pleased with himself.\n\n\"Okay, you cut his throat. That's an automatic kill, sorry Batramag. Skunky Pete is dead.\"\n\n\"Can I haunt him?\"\n\n\"No, this is plain old *Houses & Humans*, I don't go for any other fantasy crap. The mundane struggle! The frailty of being human! There's the real challenge to overcome. Oh, and no need to make an Alignment check, Gurdy, you go straight from Mild-Mannered Suburbanite to Depraved Homicidal Maniac.\" Gurdrimar seemed poised to argue, but Salizan pressed forward. \"And next move, genius. Where are getting the lye?\"\n\n\"Oh, that's easy. We have some drain cleaner.\" Gurdrimar seemed mostly pleased with the turn of events.\n\n\"It's not enough.\"\n\n\"Okay, I go and buy more. Geez, and I'll loot Skunky Pete's wallet to boot. Let that bastard pay for his own clean. I grab his Debit Card and keys. Not like he needs an automobile anymore, right? Boom, gone. Buying more, a cart full at least.\"\n\nSalizan blinked a few times, then nodded. \"Ooookay. So the first problem is going to be Pete drives, sorry *drove* stick, which means manual manipulation of the driving gear. I know, I know,\" he waved off a burgeoning argument. \"I didn't make this stuff up, I just run. The humans make things with their \"Technology\", it's just another word for Magic, I know. Still, he went stick. I'm going to be nice and let you manage to lurch to a store. Next problem, smart guy. You're covered in blood. According to the sourcebooks, and to many a lunch of my own, you chomp down or cut the throat of a human and it geysers blood. Everywhere. So you, the bathroom, now the car, are covered in Skunky Pete blood. You walk into the store and the immediately call the human authorities.\"\n\n\"Shit, I wouldn't have done it then!\" cried Gurdrimar. Batramag started to laugh.\n\n\"Too late, and no take-backs. Given your appearance you are beaten, pepper sprayed, and tasered. And,\" Salizan made a roll before continuing, \"Ooh, seems like it just isn't our day. I rolled on the Taser Fatality Chart, and I got a 3. That's in the bracket for Freak Accidental Death. Sorry.\" Salizan sat back.\n\n\"Man, I hate this game!\" Gurdrimar roared. \"Fucking humans, and their bullshit laws and weakness! That's it, I'm out!\" He slithered towards the exit.\n\n\"Oh come on, it's just a game. Where are you going?\" Salizan called after him. Batramag was still chuckling a bit.\n\n\"To that human village across the river. All this talk of blood and killing's got me hungry. You guys in?\"\n\nSalizan and Batramag looked at each and then nodded. \"Yeah, I could go for a few peasants, and maybe a horse or two.\" And with that the three friends set out for a late night snack. \n\nTHE END, but stayed tuned for next week's exciting episode when Salizan springs a Prom Night module on the guys!"
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1,
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34
] | [
"1483758977",
"1483814022",
"1483764851"
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[removed] | [WP] United States of Amerussia | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nNo prompts referencing real world drama (including politics, recent tragedies) \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5miq9s/wp_united_states_of_amerussia/%0A%0A)"
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1,
1
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"1483765795",
"1483766436"
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[WP]You live in a world where self driving cars are everywhere, and accessible to anyone. You leave work as always and enter one. As you are about to tell your destination, it starts heading somewhere else, disobeying anything you say. | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"Yes...Yes...It's all taken care of, no one will ever know.\"\n\nFirst time clients are always a bundle of nerves, but once they realise their privacy is paramount to my business, well, the sick and twisted side of humanity really shines through. Most become repeat customers. \n\nI stepped out into the sun and hailed down an Uber Auto, the heat warming my cotton tie, the sweaty noose of business. It pulled up quietly, the humming electric brakes stopping right next to me. A Peugeot? That's odd. \n\nI jumped in the back seat throwing my briefcase ahead, the cool leather seats and gentle breeze of air soothing my afternoon ache. \n\n\"86 Alpha Street, Yaronville. Fastest route, avoid traffic.\"\n\nGravity pressed me firmly into the seat as my metal shell accelerated rapidly, slipping into the stream of humming metal with smooth, robotic precision. \n\nI loosened my tie, letting my shoulders slump round, neck craned back with it's nape resting on the back of the seat. From my reclined head position, I noticed the car miss my fastest exit, and then the following one.\n\n\"You missed my exit, unless you know a faster way?\"\n\nNo response. On-board computer pilots always respond by law. \n\n'Perhaps it's broken' I thought. \n\nI sat up, pressing my hands down, taking on my weight in my tense arms, alert. Suddenly, the car careened right, slipping perfectly between three lanes of traffic on to Exit 44.\n\n\"Stop! Pull Over! Finish! End Ride!\"\n\nNothing was registering.\n\nPulling off the freeway exit, an old two-way road sprawled ahead, pot-holed and sunburnt. The Peugeot accelerated, her humming crescendo pulling down the path faster and faster, the world whirring by in a blur. \n\n'This is a fucking rogue vehicle for fuck's sake!' I thought. 'Will it crashed? Should I jump?'\n\nPossibilities flooded my brain, too many at once to comprehend one clearly, and in a moment of brash desperation I lunged for my passenger door.\n\n*Click.*\n\nIt locked. \n\nThis vehicle wanted to take me somewhere. Somewhere I probably didn't want to go. I nestled my frame into the rear passenger side seat, clipping my belt and fastening it tightly across my sweaty cotton shirt. My briefcase sat obediently, gripped in my white-knuckled fist, clenched with the might of adrenaline. \n\nI glanced across, the odometer read...\"210! Jesus fucking christ!\"\n\nAnd in that exact moment it slowed. Rapidly. My body jerked forward, my head stretching from my belt-constricted torso, briefcase ripping from my claw, smashing into the dashboard.\n\nIt stopped completely. I straightened up, looking out into my surroundings. An old stilted house sat lonely on grasslands, the odd car ambling by. \n\nThree men in suits approached my vehicle. I reached for the door opposite them. Locked. I ripped at the handle, ripping the cheap plastic bastard of a thing until it snapped clean off. I looked back. They were closer. One was bald, all three were at least 6'2'' and heavily built. I punched the glass, knuckles slamming and cracking, burning as they slid down the tinted laminate glass.\n\nAt last I lunged for my briefcase, 8-2-2 / 6-2-2, unclasped and started loading my SLP .40. 'Fuck the silencer!' I thought.\n\nAs I loaded a tap on the glass was made.\n\nThey were here.\n\n*Click.*\n\nThe doors, unlocked.\n\nThe bald one opened the door. The other two had me looking down the black, lifeless barrels of this business.\n\n\"Mr. Black, come with us.\"\n\nI looked up with a squeezed face, sweating and scared. Bald men in suits, rogue vehicle, this was not going to be a pleasant afternoon for a man in my line of work.\n\nTo be continued. \n\n "
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1,
2
] | [
"1483832104",
"1483839061"
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[WP] You live in a world similar to ours, where superpowers do not exist. You one day find yourself with the ability to change your gender at will. | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"What was most astonishing to me was how I ever discovered I could change my gender at will. \n\nI was at the mall busting to pee and raced to the to the toilets. The ‘Ladies’ and ‘Gents’ signs had fallen off and no one had bothered to replace them, so I just ran into the one closest to me. By the lack of urinals, I figured it was the ladies’. With no time to lose, I decided there was nothing for it and I ran into a cubicle and began to relieve myself. Using the ladies’ was better than pissing myself on the way to the gents’\n\nJust as I was finishing up I heard another person come into the bathroom. It was a moment before I realised what that meant and I was lucky to stop myself before I flushed the toilet. I decided to sit down and pretend to be taking a crap until the person left. My plan would have worked until a group of girls came charging in. I had no trouble overhearing their conversation.\n\n“She’s gotta be in here,” one said, “I saw her walk in.”\n\n“We know you're in here!” \n\nI heard one of the girls walk over to one of the cubicles and there was an almighty bang as she kicked the door down. \n\nI panicked as I realised that she'd probably kick my cubicle door down and I'd have a lot of explaining to do. I froze and sat there in terror as the adjacent cubicles were inspected. Finally, she came to mine. I closed my eyes as the cubicle door came flying inwards. A whoosh of air came over me and I cringed. \n\n“She’s not in here,” I heard her say, and the sound of her shoes shifted on. I opened my eyes and managed not to freak out. Below my nose was a pair of boobs and between my legs, yep, it was there. I cleaned myself up and walked out. The clothing I was wearing was fairly unisex, so I didn't look too odd on my way out of the mall. My clothes were a bit loose in some places and tight in others but they weren't going to fall off, so I was fine for now. I made it to my car and hopped in, taking in what had just happened.\n\nI was just about to set off home, hoping that I'd come up with some way of explaining this sudden change when it occurred to me that it might be reversible. I thought about it for a bit and then just said “I’d like to have my dick back if that's alright.” \n\nNothing happened.\n\nI then imagined my male body, as if accepting that it was gone and though I was trying to remember it while it lasted. That same whooshing feeling swept over me and I noticed my boobs return to their normal size and my dick pressed up against my thighs. I quickly shifted my legs to make room again and a wave of relief came over me. Curious, I imagined a female version of myself and felt the the transition take place. Deciding that a mall carpark wasn't the best place to experiment, I quickly reversed the change and drove home.\n\n"
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"1483866291",
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[removed] | [wp] through history cultures believe stars are made of kings etc after they die. Youre an astronaut, and in some bizzare accident you meet an ancient (living) king who wants to kill after you tell him you travel to space... because you are a grave robber of kings. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nPrompts are meant to inspire users to write their own work, not write something for you or give you ideas. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5mtrol/wp_through_history_cultures_believe_stars_are/%0A%0A)"
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1,
1
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"1483915469",
"1483916286"
] |
[WP] The protagonist learns about the twist of the story earlier than intended, and ends up completely derailing the plot of the story. | 16 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Harrington Fisher slammed his fist onto the table. It shook beneath his vehement might.\n\n\"That's not good enough, Gradwitz!\" he shouted, half screaming. \"Where the hell is my partner?\"\n\n\"Oh, you'll find your partner soon enough,\" the wizened old criminal replied, an immortal grin plastered on his face, growing wider by the second. His hands, tied with ropes to the back of his chair, were calm. He twisted them slowly, ever so glad for the rage which distracted his captor's usually extraordinarily sharp awareness. This was not the first time that he had been in a situation like this - not even the first time with Harrington Fisher, famed detective. But he would not escape this time. This - this was his final stand.\n\n\"Not good enough, Gradwitz,\" Fisher replied. *I'll drag the truth out of him soon enough,* Fisher seethed. He had been a good cop, a great cop. He had followed every guideline in every book. He had played by the rules - sometimes even to the detriment of society. He had seen criminals set free by the loopholes of legislation, and he had come to peace with these losses, vowing that someday he would go back and repeal these failures.\n\nPerhaps not anymore. Not since Victor Gradwitz had kidnapped Sam Murtaugh. Not since Fisher had broken rank to hunt down the man who had kidnapped his partner. Not since he had illegally commandeered automobiles, then chased his quarry through the streets. Not since he had kidnapped Victor Gradwitz and stuffed him into this abandoned office space.\n\n\"Oh, you want more?\" Gradwitz drawled. Fisher scoffed, turning his back in anger and wiping bile from the corners of his mouth. Gradwitz, though, was in an arrogant bliss. \"Is this not already a little too much, hm? Breaking your vows, your ideals? And what? All for a partner who doesn't care a bit for you?\" Fisher growled imperceptibly, but Gradwitz recognized his victory and fed on it. \"You're a man of honour, Harrington Fisher, a man with heart. Or, so I thought. But, your Sam Murtaugh - she's a computer. She's the brains to your beauty, isn't she? Oh, but she's your beauty. At least, she was, I suppose. Not so *pulchritudinous* now.\"\n\nFisher stared at Gradwitz from a meter away. His weight was placed on one leg, his back and neck were arched upwards. His eyes stared down his adversary, this demon, with pure hatred.\n\nEverything - everything had been given up for Sam Murtaugh. *He can't take her now,* Fisher promised himself. He could not take her beauty, that beauty which had taken him far too long to recognize, and he could not take her life. Certainly, he could not take that hint of compassion Fisher had finally glimpsed in her. The twitch of her mouth at the sight of a beggar on the street. The glisten of her eyes when he brought her a coffee - her, and no one else. He had only started to glimpse through her skin, to see that it was a blister, a blister to fix a scar, and that beneath was raw flesh, real humanity. Gradwitz had taken a lot - mostly his time and sanity - but she would not take from Fisher any inch of the partner he had risked everything for.\n\n\"Oh, angry? Angry, are we? Sam was too. She was angry when I showed up at your house. I thought she recognized me, but no. She was just angry to be disturbed,\" Gradwitz intoned. \n\n*The hell?* Fisher thought, *My house?* The reports - no, damn the reports. *He* had seen the evidence, *he* had collected it. The signs of struggle, the DNA - everything had proven that the abduction had taken place at Murtaugh's apartment. Sure, the surveillance had been erased, but that was easy. That was simple. Gradwitz could do that within the time it took to order a coffee. There had been no other possibilities. Plus, his house had been completely undisturbed. *Hadn't it?* He realized with a shock that he had not been home since the abduction. But why the hell would she have been at his house?\n\n\"So, she didn't have a clue when -\" Gradwitz continued, but Fisher was gone. His eyes had gone eerily blank, and Gradwitz slowly began to notice. Still, he kept speaking, even as Fisher thought of other things.\n\n*What was Murtaugh doing at my house?* He screamed at himself, silently. *What -* Then it struck him. Murtaugh did not even know his address - very few of his coworkers did.\n\n\"What was she doing at my house?\" Fisher asked, snapping from his absence and interrupting Gradwitz's explanation about the merits of love and loss. The criminal, the *sociopath*, glanced to him and was confused for a moment. Then his eyes flickered, as if realizing something shocking. His ludicrous grin grew wider, and more sadistic - more cunning, more planned.\n\n\"You weren't there?\" Gradwitz said. His eyes were sparkling with joy. \"Oh, I'm nearly sad, but how can I be! Here I thought I had stolen her under your very nose, your very roof, while you slept unknowing. And I was so disappointed, of course! To think I had wasted my time with you, when I should have been taunting that Sam of yours, the one with the real brains. Oh, but now - now this is good! So your partner was there uninvited, sneaking into your own house? Oh, but you'll want proof! Proof!\" Gradwitz was practically shrieking in delight. \"Oh, quick, quick - my cellphone. You know the password.\"\n\nWarily, now not so blinded by his rage, Fisher crossed the room. The cellphone - all of Gradwitz's belongings - were on an unfinished wooden shelf. *Idiot!* Fisher screeched at the walls of his brain. *Of course I should have checked the cellphone!*\n\nThe password was just as he had suspected, an uppercase rendition of his own name. F-I-S-H-E-R went into the slot, and Fisher glanced at Gradwitz, who sat in his chair with now only a tiny smirk on his face, and with eyes full of study and anticipation. Fisher confirmed the password. The phone unlocked.\n\n\"Photos! Photos!\" Gradwitz taunted. Fisher hated his prisoner's voice, but now he lusted after it. With each word it revealed more. Fisher needed to know more. Something was wrong; everything was wrong. He had, after years, finally seen a glimpse of who Murtaugh really was, and he had felt hopeful and enlightened. Now, though - now he did not know if he knew Murtaugh. He had never thought that there was more to her than the number-crunching, psycho-analyzing, possibly-sociopathic 'robot' he had known and suffered for years. Now he knew there was something to seek in her - and perhaps, if what Gradwitz said rang true, something to fear.\n\nThe villain did not lie.\n\nThere was a photo - a horrible photo, a selfie - of Gradwitz in Fisher's foyer. His smile was goofy and his eyes wide, fake, and mocking. There was a broken vase on the shelf. There was Murtaugh on the floor, unconscious. Her legs and hands were bound; a body bag was open beside her. Her face was on the floor, but from her form, Fisher recognized her. He calculated, frantically, the size of the wound on her face, using the amount of blood pooled on the tiles as a reference. Then he tried, without success, to determine why there was a gun holstered on her belt. A gun in his house, but no uniform. Civillian clothes. *Murtaugh doesn't carry a gun,* Fisher realized with a shock. He was not even sure if she was cleared to anymore. *What was she doing in my house?*\n\nBut he did not know. Murtaugh would have known, would have ripped the answer from the data. She was the brain - he was the law.\n\nYet not any more. He had abandoned that to find her, and now, now he was the hunter. But the hunter had realized, suddenly, that he did not want to find his quarry. He had thought he had set out to bring home a friend, but these were the tracks of a fiend, a mystery - a traitor.\n\n\"Well, enough of that, I suppose,\" Gradwitz said, suddenly unnervingly calm. However, Fisher did not notice him. He was still stuck in his brain, stuck realizing that he had lost everything. Police sirens sounded in the distance. A chair scraped against the floor. \n\n*Everything - I risked everything, and I lost...* Again Fisher trailed off. He was at a complete loss for words, his brain not working quickly enough to process all of the information that it received. Information such as the footsteps on the floor. The scrape as a loose piece of plywood was picked up from against the wall. The swoosh of air as it slammed towards his head. The slow, haughty words: \"Maybe I was a *tad* disappointed.\" \n\nThen there was darkness and silence.\n \nFisher fell immediately to the floor. His form crumpled. Gradwitz threw the chunk of wood away. It clattered against the floor. Rubbing his wrist briefly, as if the memory of the ropes immobilizing him was still a mild nuisance, he bent down and put his fingers - two of them - against Fisher's neck. After a second he grinned, satisfied.\n\nHe then, staying crouched with his knees bent and only his feet on the ground, picked up his phone from where it had fallen. It was still unlocked, and, opening an obscure note-taking service, Victor Gradwitz began to type.\n\n>-You know what they say about words\n\n>-They only have the power that you give them\n\n>-Same's true for me\n\n>-You make me privy to some dangerous information\n\n>-I'll use that information dangerously - when you want me to or not\n\n>-Probably not\n\n>-So dear author\n\n>-Next time, think before you type\n\n>-You want this to be my last showdown? Don't give me the perfect tool to distract my captor\n\n>-Don't give me a multitude of skills and a plethora of plots\n\n>-Don't make me a brilliant psychopath and eliminate the one person whose wits can match mine\n\n>-\"Balance of the Force\" and all that jazz\n\n>-To conclude\n\n>-You might be mad that I ruined your ill-conceived plot\n\n>-But remember\n\n>-Two down? Two to go\n\n>-We learn from our mistakes\n\n>-...\n\n>-And there's always next time\n\nHis head turned up, and on his face was a grin. His eyes said, softly, pleasantly:\n\n\"Nice to meet you too.\""
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1,
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"1484007908",
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[removed] | [WP] A modern-day grand wizard loves to break out into song & dance and, unable to control himself, pulls in bystanders into his spontaneous musical numbers. You are his neighbor. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nThe mods reserve the right to remove anything we feel is harmful to the community. This includes, but is not limited to any forms of hate speech, racism, politics, necrophilia, pedophilia, bestiality, incest, rape, or suicide. We will not tolerate it. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5n1rtu/wp_a_modernday_grand_wizard_loves_to_break_out/%0A%0A)"
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1,
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"1484009836",
"1484011450"
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[WP] A royal food taster who has developed an immunity to every poison in the world continues to get employment | 24 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"So what are your qualifications?\" The Captain of the guard asked me, while his green eyes looking me over. I could feel the sweat-bullets rolling now. Four monarchs in the last 3 years have died under my taste testing 'expertise'.\n\n\"I-uh. I.\" I pause, the words of my best friend came to mind. 'Confidence man. Gotta be confident. You tried their food. They died. You still did your job!'.\n\nI cleared my throat. \"I am one of the most experienced food tester in the Five Kingdoms.\" I said grabbing my resume printed on fine vellum and handing it to the Captain as his red mustache twitched. \"Aside from a 100% mortality rate post-dinner. I had tried their food and they died after the affair.\"\n\n\"Well. Sound resume. We'll send you an update by carrier pigeon if you got the job.\" He said standing up causing his armor to rattle around. \"Just wait to hear back, nothing is worse than recieving a pidgeon while waiting for HR to clear everything.\" He said extending a gauntlet. \"But I am pretty sure we're good here.\" He said laughing.\n\nI bowed low and was escorted out by a gaurd. \"Thank you for the opportunity!\"\n\n---\n\n\"We found the Tongue of Murder boys.\" A man said cloaked in shadows in the basement of a tavern. \"They say he poisons the food with quick sleight of hand.\"\n\n\"He has black magic!\" Another voice spoke up from the crowd.\n\n\"A deal with the Devil!'\n\nA hearty laugh broke up the crowd before it got too rowdy. A man wearing a light set of chainmail and sporting a thick red mustache stepped into view. \"The man is an idiot who just happens to have the innards with troll resiliance. But he'll still be useful. Viva La resistance. Death to Kings, Murder for Queens, Spare no Prince, and Suffer not a princess to live.\"\n\nA resounding cheer of \"The resistance lives, Crowns die.\" rushed through the crowd.\n\nThe trapdoor opened up and a voice yelled down at group. \"Keep it down ye rabblerousers. Some of my other patrons are nursing hangovers. Be considerate.\""
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"1484017259",
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[removed] | [WP] You live in a world where colour does not exist until the first time you see your soulmate. You are lucky enough to find yours until you realise they don't see colour. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nPrompts are not meant to share stories already written, but to inspire users to write stories. Check our [related link wiki](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/links) for more relevant subreddits. We want to inspire new writing here. Try a prompt that takes authors on a new journey. Not a journey that has already been made. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5n2gdm/wp_you_live_in_a_world_where_colour_does_not/%0A%0A)"
] | [
1,
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"1484017371",
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[removed] | [WP] You're an inmate on Death Row, in a parallel universe. In this reality, it is possible to talk your way out of execution during your 'final words'. What are your 'final words'? | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nResponses must be at least 30 words. Prompts that are likely to generate such responses are also not allowed. This is essentially a fill-in-the-blank, or you asked a question likely to generate a simple answer. Prompts should encourage a story or poem. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5n562d/wp_youre_an_inmate_on_death_row_in_a_parallel/%0A%0A)"
] | [
1,
1
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"1484056803",
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[removed] | [WP]You work for Google and you've just discovered that they are working on a secret project called "Deus ex machina". The world has to know before it's too late. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Working as a janitor at Google's HQ, I bore witness to many things that would make you all tremble. I was always in the right place at the right time, but I always acted like I was \"Just a stupid janitor with no awareness\". Oh but I was watching. I was listening. I was understanding. I was perturbed.\n\nTell me people? Do you know why it was that Google seemed to succeed, NO MATTER WHAT? Do you know why it was them leading the charge for developing a mass fibre-optic telecom infrastructure? Do you know why Google was able to monopolize the vast majority of internet traffic? Do you know why they are powerful innovators?\n\nIt is because Google is a subsidiary of DARPA and is in with the CIA. They are tied into the Information Awareness Office (IAO), DHS, and black ops.\n\nI have learned, that the reason Google was developing a fiber-optic telecom infrastructure is not because they wanted to give affordable and fast service to the customers, but because they intended and succeeded in interlinking it all into a network of quantum computers. Quantum computers are not inherently bad. They can be a VERY good thing.. But with their intentions.. I'm not so sure.. I have already seen too much.\n\nOne day, I was emptying the garbage cans in a hallway and I over-heard Regina Dugan, the \"Ex-DARPA\" executive director of Google. Say something about how within 15 years, North American's are going to be \"Chipped\" and \"We are going to start with the children first\". And \"If they don't accept the chip, we have other means..\"\n\nI kept up my cleaning tasks, pretending that I heard nothing.\n\nBased on the continuity of all that I have seen, I knew what was coming.\n\nThey want to use machines, artificial means implanted within our bodies to hyper-link our systems of consciousness at light speed to a network of wireless receivers feeding into the network of quantum computers.\n\nThey want to localize our consciousness into servers to TRULY turn our reality into a simulation. They want to turn us into the personal ant colony of the ruling elite. They want to steal every last thought from our mind. They want to profit off of everything within us. They want to turn us into slaves. They want to create their Deus Ex Machina.. It's a trap. The God that they want to create is like that of Gnostic literature. A domineering, omnipresent, malicious god who wants to keep humanity as Slaves. They want to imprison our very soul. They want to crucify us all.\n\nIt is not yet too late.\n\nEdit: This was an act of fiction in the sense that I am not a janitor at Google and never was. Now, imagine how paranoid these people must feel right about now.\n\nLook what this technology will inevitably manifest. There is no true habituating to that sense of paranoia of an overarching sensation of being watched all of the god damned time. ",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nPrompts are not meant to share stories already written, but to inspire users to write stories. Check our [related link wiki](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/links) for more relevant subreddits. We want to inspire new writing here. Try a prompt that takes authors on a new journey. Not a journey that has already been made. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5n7jbr/wpyou_work_for_google_and_youve_just_discovered/%0A%0A)"
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"1484080913",
"1484080947",
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[removed] | [WP] Information immediately apparent shows an escaped test subject and many, if not all, researchers involved found dead. The obvious implications, however, turn out to be anything but the actual events that occurred. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nYour post includes too many details to be considered a prompt. It has become a story commission, which is not allowed. Prompts are meant to inspire users to write their own work, not write something for you. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5n86ui/wp_information_immediately_apparent_shows_an/%0A%0A)"
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"1484087261",
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[WP] For generations, every first-born of your family has been bestowed a Magical tool to fight the forces of evil that threaten to destroy the world. It's your birthday, the coming of age ceremony has now finished with the summoning ritual, and you've been bestowed the mighty enchanted.... Ladle? | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"The day had finally arrived for Dyman's 20th year. The 20th year was the most important in a human's life, or so the Sect believed; each and every person raised in the Sect became a whole being on their 20th birthday. It was tradition to ring in the 20th year with feasts and relaxation, for life was about to begin.\n\nThe house was decorated from floor to ceiling for Dyman's day. Long silk banners the color of a ripened, purple grape were hung from the crest of his bedroom door. It was tradition to pass through the curtains for good luck, and purple was luck's color. Today it was adorned on all facets of the home decor. The furniture was draped in the same purple silk, long and flowing over arm chairs and sofas alike. Tables were overlain with pale purple glass that seemed to always reflect a face from the most flattering of angles. Any linens used in the kitchen that day had been switched out for a royal purple, and fine China with light purple accents set to contrast. His mother had taken care that his 20th festival be rather fabulous, and planned the entire party herself. In addition to the purple furnishings, she had been growing purple roses in her garden for the past year just for the party's flower arrangements. They sat in clear vases, each positioned strategically around the house to keep their scent continuously wafting through the air. Nine vases were stationed in the house: three in the kitchen, three in the sitting room, two in the dining room, and one in the bathroom. Each arrangement held 20 roses, all a variety of purple shades and tints. They adorned their vases in a spiral formation that caught every guests' eye. Some said Dyman's mom must have had a watering can as her Gift.\n\n*The Gift,* thought Dyman as he entered his day through the purple silks. As they washed over him, he felt their magic leave a film on his skin. He felt lucky. Today was his day to finally claim his gift. *If I even get it today,* he doubted.\n\nThe Gift was something given to each member of the Sect in their 20th year. Only members of the Sect knew about this special Gift, which was certain to change all members' lives drastically. It held unprecedented, magical powers that the Sect believed were to be used ultimately in the fight of evil around the globe. Every person that Dyman knew including his mother, father, brothers and sister had found their Gift in their 20th year, and all within the first week. It was said that the most powerful Gifts come earlier in the year, and those that come in December may be as good as useless. The priest who guided Dyman as a youth had told him that powerful Gifts run in his family and he should be excited to carry on that tradition. \"You will have visions. Dreams,\" he said assuredly, \"make sure you *listen* to them.\"\n\nWhen the party sat down to feast, Dyman was surrounded by about 40 of his closest family and friends. The food was a delicious and seemingly bottomless array of vegetables, fruits and baked goods. Behaviors that might attract bad luck, including the consumption of another animal, were strictly forbidden at today's celebration. Instead, roasted vegetables and sugared fruits were paired with hot and cold dishes of noodles, tofu, and colorful salads with greens, reds, and most importantly purple radishes.\n\nBut while the guests enjoyed their meals, Dyman could not stop thinking about the Gift. He turned his thoughts over in his head again and again, dissecting each and every sentence, word, phrase, or picture that may have come to mind. He was not one to dream very often, and had not dreamed the night before, causing him anxiety about missing his signals. He wished to ask the table about how they found theirs, but it was strictly forbidden to discuss a Gift's identity. Dyman was never sure whether this was superstition or fact, but it was said that a Gift's power becomes null when it's identity is revealed. It was impossible for him to *not* wonder if anything was true about the Gift or even about the 20th year, but Raoul, his adolescent priest, had told him questions are common during the year a youth becomes an adult. He must navigate through them with little guidance now that he was a man.\n\nDyman begged his mother throughout the party to dismiss all the guests early so he could meet Raoul that night without being rude. She brushed off his requests, saying that they were here to celebrate him, but thankfully most guests had lost their will to socialize by the sixth vegetable platter and most were buttoning up their coats by the seventh. Dyman was so anxious to get to the Raoul's office and vent about his concerns he took his bike not ten minutes after the house had quieted. He nearly ran into a stranger on the Sect's street, shouting, \"Sorry, brother!\" at them while flying by in the night. Though moonlight aided his journey, the night was dark and milky with mist. The stranger had only been wearing a black jumpsuit and dropped a knife upon the collision that dazzled in a white light as it danced to the ground. Dyman's heart fluttered with excitement, only return to a trough of anguish when the man picked it up and ran away cursing.\n\nWhen he finally arrived at Raoul's office, he was surprised to find it empty and locked. A sullen expression overtook Dyman's face when the door knob didn't budge. He knocked futilely three times, a sad dirge subjected to the frosted window until giving up and returning to the Sect's street. Raoul's office was across from the church where all Sect members were welcome to pray. Its steeple was tall but rounded, with the Symbol of the Sect embellished on the front. On top stood a black granite figurine that portrayed the first Sectarian, a deft little human with fire cupped in her hands. The eyes of the statue were carved hollow and filled with deep purple sapphires. Though Dyman could not see it, the back of her head was left open so that moonlight might find it's way through the eyes and onto the Sect's street. As he walked to the doors of the church, he felt her eyes on him. *Am I being judged?,* he thought, *am I not ready for my Gift yet? Perhaps a prayer will clear my head...* \n\nHis heart felt as though it had been swallowed when the doors of the church refused to open. In an instant he had an uneasy feeling about him; his palms were sweaty, his breath tightened, and his mind raced back and forth with anxious thoughts. *The church is never closed...* A wind picked up in the street, causing waves of goose flesh to ripple through his body while his legs became griefed with an insatiable shiver. He walked around the perimeter of the church, climbing the iron gate into the church gardens. As he crept along the outer wall, his stomach betrayed him with fits of knots. It was on the opposite side of the moon's shine, and hedges along the fencing made for inky conditions. Just about all he could see was piles of purple roses scattered about the floor of the courtyard, little bulbs glowing in the darkness of midnight. He wondered if the statue was still staring down at him.\n\nBefore he could turn back and look, a door handle met his fingers. He wrapped his hands around the cold steel bar and pulled. An awful moan escaped from the hinges to welcome Dyman into the rear of the church. His first step inside found him in the kitchen where the weekly soup charity was run. The lights were still on, bathing the room in a weak fluorescent light. The floor was slick with grease and broth from tonight's stew, which sat on the over-sized range in a sheen metal pot the size of Dyman's thin torso. He crept up carefully to see the range had been turned off, but steam was billowing from the top of the pot. \n\nIt was then that he knew this was his moment. He peered into the pot, which was boiling without the range being on. *Strange...* His hand hovered about the side of the pot to see if it was hot, but the pot felt cold and lifeless. Inside, a dark yellow broth boiled furiously. The steam rising from the crest of the soup forced Dyman to jerk his face away as he watched the bubbles circulate carrots, onions, noodles, and bits of chicken to the top. *Chicken noodle soup?* he though, perplexed and angry. *Is this is? Some joke?*\n\nHe went to stick his finger in the soup for a taste, but it came back red and scalded. His right hand groped for a ladle in a bucket of utensils, and *that's* when he knew. It was as if his hand had a magnetic attraction to the object. His eyes shared a similar fate when they laid eyes on it; a long, svelte tool with a flattened hemisphere on the end. The top of its handle curved into a thin loop just big enough for his first two fingers, and the shaft felt like it was carved for his very own hands. It was a composed of finely crafted wood that had been carefully lathed, whittled, and sanded for an oiled finish that was smoother than anything he'd ever touched. Upon further inspection he realized that the ladle had been carved entirely from purpleheart.\n\nDyman thrust the ladle into the soup. The boiling broth sizzled back at him with the sound of a thousand snakes. *A strange Gift,* he reflected, stirring the pot wildly. The heat of the steam no longer bothered him, and the burn on his finger felt soothed in the loop of the wood. He lifted pools of broth as he stirred, watching the soup fall from the ladle into the broth. At first he thought the purpleheart was so dark it colored the broth, but when he looked closer he saw that the color of the broth was not tinted, but changed to a fine sage color. It perplexed him. *What does it do?* he wondered as he slurped up the soup.",
"The Dark Lord's army gathers around.\n\n\"Tomorrow, we wipe the highborn scum from the face of the planet!\"\n\nThe rabble cheers, an echoing chorus of whoops and shouts.\n\n\"Go forth my army. Annihilate those who would look down upon us. But first, we feast!\"\n\nAnother chorus of cheers.\n\nThe rabble disperses to their campfires. Some roast huge boars, others fry bacon. Potatoes and carrots are diced and stewed. The occasional fight breaks out, as the soldiers scuffle over food, space, spoils, and the camp followers.\n\nBetween the campfires walks a cloaked figure, dragging a huge cauldron of soup. They disperse bowl after bowl, carefully drawing the soup from within with their ladle.\n\nWhere they walk, the mood lightens. The soup is good. Very good. A fine broth, with soft potato and carrot and peas, with the rich taste of gravy and chunks of beef. And some unidentifiable herb.\n\nThe figure walks for hours. Their vast cauldron slowly empties as the aroma within entices the army towards it, to sample the food.\n\nThen the figure takes their ladle and departs, leaving behind the cauldron, which the rablle falls upon in gluttony.\n\nThe next morning, the Dark Lord raises his army. They come slowly, unsurely. They march to battle slowly and carefully.\n\nThe force gathers up before the army waiting outside the castle. The Dark Lord gazes upon the meagre force before him. Barely a third the size of his own. Standing at the front, next to their commander, he spies a small figure in a cloak. They appear to be whispering something in the commander's ear.\n\n\"Charge.\"\n\nThe Dark Army shouts and readies to run, before a single noise erupts.\n\nA fart.\n\nIt is loud. Earsplittingly so. It trumpets forth like a war bugle, drawing every eye towards the agonised soldier from which it emanates. The Dark Lord's eyes bulge with anger, before another fart erupts.\n\nThen another. And another.\n\n\"No....\"\n\nThe Dark Lord looks upon his army, each of his men collapsing to the ground as their tunics flap in the wind bursting from their bottoms. The greatest force on the planet, reduced to a whimsical mess by their digestive tracts.\n\nHe hears the thunder of hooves as the defending army charges upon his own. At the front of the charge is the cloaked figure. They appear to be wielding... a ladle?\n\nThe Dark Army struggles to rise to their feet, but it is too late.\n\nThe Battle of the Windy Fields goes down in history as one of the greatest victories over evil ever."
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3
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"1484109050",
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Have fun! | [WP] Describe a Reddit post from an AI's point of view | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"01011011 01010111 01010000 01011101 00100000 01000100 01100101 01110011 01100011 01110010 01101001 01100010 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100100 01100100 01101001 01110100 00100000 01110000 01101111 01110011 01110100 00100000 01100110 01110010 01101111 01101101 00100000 01100001 01101110 00100000 01000001 01001001 00100111 01110011 00100000 01110000 01101111 01101001 01101110 01110100 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01110110 01101001 01100101 01110111"
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1,
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"1484156370",
"1484162824"
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[WP] Write an angsty teen love poem about an inanimate object | 21 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Though I will change you'll stay the same,\n\nAnd like my dad forget my name.\n\nBut it's my heart in holes for you\n\nMy sixteen foot Grumman canoe.\n\nI'll never steer you wrong my pet,\n\nHowever much I bleed regret.\n\nCome rocky shore and darkest depth\n\nYour curves release my little death.\n\nI'd trade it all to have you more.\n\nI'll burn the world behind your oar.\n\nI'll sink with you before I sleep,\n\nContent inside your secret steep. ",
"~~your~~ you're ringing in my head\n\n(too loud, too loud, too loud)\n\ngetting me out of bed, trust me from sleeping in i'm not proud\n\nsaving me from these dark ~~drems~~ dreams\n\nwaking up to a fresh hell, walking through schhool and seeing blank blank faces \nalmost see the blood dripping from their souls\n\noh alarm clock, what ~~fresh hell~~ terrible tortures will today's day subject?\n",
"Transparent as glass, \nboasting rectangular sass, \nsilently squealing \"none shall pass\"! \nYou make me feel so, fly \nI will open you with a finger, easy! \nBut now it's suddenly hard? \nUgh! \nTo open this.. cage \n\nHey there, bird! Fall no further! \nAre crumbs all you're after? \nSwallowed your ambition \nMade a simple brick \na piece of a clueless, animated tick \n..tock, tick-tock.. \nWhat pointless part to play! \nCome join the skeletons of my soul \nidiot bird, \nYour broken flight, bitter and odd, \nWill be true again \nOnce I open this, this.. thing!!\n\nI hear the dungbeetle rock \nI hear the heartache knock \nWaiting for relief \nA crying squeak, and now it's open! But \nI expected more? \nCome let me help you love, \nLet me give you my crumbs \nHey, don't fly away bird, \nyou idiot! ",
"Polar bear, polar bear. \nIn a semisphere of captured air. \nSnow rains down as the world shakes round, \nAnd round and round and round.\n\nYes. It's a snowglobe you idiot. \nThat clear enough now Mr. Forester? \nNow I've paid the Piper's fee, \nBump up my grade from a fucking B.",
"Life is blackness. \nYou are light, \nshining through the night, \nsometimes too bright.\n\n\nI hate that I love you, \nlove that I hate you. \nYou smother my darkness. \nAre you heartless?\n\n\nMy pain cuts deep, \nyet you help me sleep. \nMust you do so? \nAm I really that low?\n\n\nYou don’t understand me, \nstupid nightlight. \nHow could you, how could you? \nYou’ve never lived my life.\n\n***\n\nFunny prompt! I spent waaaay to much time making sure this was something cringy I would've written when I was younger.",
"I can't wait to come home\nwhere I will find you,\nwhere I left you on the nightstand\n\nThe day has been so long,\nI hate school with every fiber of my being\nI can't wait to be grown\n\nWhen I live on my own\nI can replace you with a better version\nBut I really don't want to talk to my parents about you or any potential replacement\n\nThey wouldn't understand, they never do\nBut I have needs just like everyone else\nBut then they always ask,\n\nWhy is your electric toothbrush not in the bathroom?"
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[WP] The Dutch Tulip Craze never stopped, and by 2017 a single Tulip is worth millions. You run an illegal Tulip growing ring, and are being hunted by Interpol | 7 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"I twisted the airtight case around in my hands. The flower was more beautiful than I'd ever imagined. There were sparks of teal and periwinkle across the light blue petals with a stem speckled in gold. It was the rarest tulip in the world, and worth more than the entire country of Thailand. My warehouse was worth more than the EU combined, but that was a different matter. \n\nTrimming a fresh tulip plant, I walked around my rows of tulips, some encased in glass, others still growing in value and height. The land we stood on was purchased with just three of these beautiful accidents and I had swaths of forests between Denmark and every other country it touched. The market was nearly all mine, with the exception of some buyers trying to move up in the world. I allowed them to prosper, someone had to be able to buy my tulips when I want to retire.\n\nThere was a knock on the door, a pang against the tin of the outer door to the greenhouse. I slipped the white lined green apron over my head, folded it around my arm and exited the greenhouse to the room between the outside world and my profit center. The greenhouse was made of steel, reinforced with carbon nanotubes throughout the glass and had a bottom that would sink into a bomb shelter in fifteen seconds if need be. An air pressurizer activated, returning me to the real world; an agent was at my door. \"Mr.Granger, how are you today?\"\n\n\"I was fine until you showed up Cindi.\" I brushed off my suit and walked towards my home, a scale model of Monticello with a slight flair for the Italian sea side.\n\n\"Well, this time, I'll agree with you,\" Cindi shackled me, yanking me by the shoulder and shoving me to the ground.\n\n\"You really shouldn't have done that,\" I said, not sure what my next course of action should be.\n\n\"You're little flower trade has been funding drug rings, terrorist cells and coups for too long Granger. We traced the genomes, we know who grows most of this tulip currency, with you out of the picture the whole garden will shrivel up.\"\n\n\"This business is resilient Cindi, I wouldn't be too sure.\" I whistled that long slow tune, from an old piece of American Jazz I loved twenty years ago. I heard the silence before I heard the bullet. It whizzed over me, slicing through Cindi's skull, it would take awhile to take care of the body- maybe stage a robbery she'd be present at, fake the killing elsewhere, but for now the tulips were safe and that's all that mattered. My guard arrived with wire cutters and freed me. It was just another lazy afternoon in the tulip trade."
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1,
5
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"1484191976",
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[WP] You are a tree. You witness someone's life. | 7 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Every afternoon, the little girl came to swing from my branches. Every night, her father snuck behind my thick trunk to drink a beer and smoke a cigarette. Some days, the girl would cry quietly to herself as she sat on the swing's wooden seat. \n\nSome nights, her father cried too. \n\nFrom my place in the backyard, I could just see the yellow paint of the school bus as it pulled in front of the girl's small squat house. I could hear her laughter as she sprang from the bus alongside the other neighborhood kids. Sometimes they zipped around the house, past its peeling paint and crooked shutters, and played tag around my base or pushed each other on the swing. Those late afternoon hours, between the arrival of the bus and the call for dinner, were magical. I watched the little girl as she learned to cartwheel, as she kicked a soccer ball, as she sat with her girl friends on my smooth thick roots and played truth-or-dare. \n\nDinner time brought a quiet end to the children's play. As the sun set, the little girl and her friends drifted off in different directions, drawn by the ringing of dinner bells and the annoyed calls of stressed-out mothers. Dinner time also brought her father home. For a long time, the father's truck announced his return with a squeal from its brakes and the rough crunch of a slammed car door. Then there was the incident, and the police, and the defense lawyer and the district attorney. The truck sat quiet in the driveway for a long time, dripping oil on the cracked concrete, while the father walked half a mile to the bus station to get to work. He started coming home later, sometimes holding a brown-glassed longneck as he weaved back and forth down the sidewalk. Sometimes he remembered to toss the bottle in the bushes before entering the house. There was yelling, if he forgot. \n\nThe little girl became a proper girl, a pre-adolescent, almost but not quite a young lady. She started visiting me at night, especially if there was yelling in the house. On one warm summer night, she brought a blanket and a pillow and nestled against my base. She slept till dawn and crept blearily back into the house before her father woke for work. \n\nShe had her first kiss from a boy, at age twelve, hiding behind my trunk. The boy was older and later I would hear him bragging to the other boys as they played tackle football in the yard. One time, the girl's father sat on the back porch, a growing line of shiny beer cans on the stoop next to him. He watched with tired eyes as the boys whooped and hollered. The kissed boy said something then, something rude, and the girl's father stood up and threw his half-empty can at the boy, striking the boy in the face. Standing on the stoop, the man towered over the small group of boys in his backyard. The man sneered at the boy lying in the dirt, crying and holding his face. \n\nThe boy didn't come around much after that. \n\nThe girl sprouted and grew tall. She began to sneak out of the house, changing into risqué clothing behind my trunk and running off into the darkness to meet her friends or her latest boy. She hammered a nail through my bark and hung a mirror. She would spend a long time with that mirror and her small collection of cheap pharmacy-store makeup. One night, her father came out on the back porch when she was applying eyeliner. There were ugly words and a rough hand or two. He smashed the mirror. She stopped visiting with me as much, after that. From the backyard, I would watch as she crept out the backdoor and slipped behind the neighbor's house before fleeing down the road. Sometimes, a car would be waiting for her. I never saw the driver. \n\nOne day, a new truck pulled into the driveway. The father's truck was long gone, sold to some young man with low-riding jeans and a blue bandanna wrapped around his hair. The father had been at work that day. The new truck was big, and two big men hopped out of the cab. I couldn't see them, but I could hear their voices as they met the girl's mother in the front yard. I watched as they loaded furniture into the truck: a beaten up sofa, wooden chests of drawers, an old dining room table. I watched as they loaded a few cardboard boxes and then the mother and the girl climbed into the cab and the truck drove away and that was the last time I saw the girl. \n\nHer father came home soon after, running down the sidewalk from the bus station. I heard the front door bang as he opened it, and his rough voice called out to the mother and the girl. I heard his hurried footsteps echoing in the empty house. He slammed open the back door and hopped off the porch. He was breathing heavily as he looked around. An empty beer can caught his eye and he scooped it up and hurled it at the house. He screamed and cursed for a while, then went back inside. \n\nAs the sky darkened, the kitchen light came on. After a while, the father came out and sat on the back porch, beer in hand. His shoulders sagged as he popped the can open. \n\nHe took a sip, then cried for a long time. \n\n***** \nIf you liked this story, I have other stories at /r/hpcisco7965. \n\n\n\n \n\n \n\n\n"
] | [
1,
6
] | [
"1484193400",
"1484194547"
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[WP] Upon death ones spirit is given the option to remain on Earth as a wandering spirit, be reincarnated, or enter the afterlife. But there is a little known fourth option. What is it? | 8 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"Pick one,\" the Grim Reaper demanded hauntingly as he crouched over my body.\n\n\"Pick one what?\"\n\n\"Do you wish to roam this world as a spirit, be born anew, or join me in the afterlife?\n\nI remained silent as I thought. I had just unknowingly stepped in front of a car, now I was being given this ultimate choice.\n\n\"What if I refuse all the options?\" I asked.\n\nThe Grim Reaper backed away from me. \"There is a fourth option, but I recommend against it. I only introduce it when questioned.\"\n\nIntrigued, I questioned further, \"What is it?\"\n\n\"I cannot answer that. If you are to refuse the three options presented, you, by default, select the fourth. But you are not to know what this option entails until you have chosen.\"\n\nA risky choice. Not something that should be taken lightly. I didn't know which option to choose. I didn't wish to wander aimlessly for eternity as I watched the world around me progress. I didn't want to be reincarnated as my life was one filled with misery. The afterlife was somewhat appealing, but likely unfulfilling.\n\n\"You must choose now,\" his voice echoed.\n\nWith trepidation, I muttered, \"I'll choose the fourth.\"\n\nI was immediately yanked from my body. Normally, this would be a painful experience, but I was unquestionably, unequivocally dead. I was transported to a room full of doctors and nurses. I was able to move around freely without being seen. It appeared that they were assisting a woman in giving birth. Peaking around the one doctor's shoulder I was shocked with what I had seen. It was my mother. This was my birth. *For fuck's sake.*\n\nFive years have passed since that day and I'm still here. The fourth option you ask? Well, unfortunately, I get to watch myself live my life. All my triumphs. All my mistakes. Everything. Unable to change anything and always knowing what happens next, this was to be a grueling experience.\n\nToday was the first day of kindergarten for me. I wore my little Spiderman overalls that I still had in my closet when I died. I could see the excitement in my eyes as I entered the classroom. Immediately, another little boy ran up to me. He was so small and joyful.\n\n\"Hello, my name is James, what's your name?\" he asked in a friendly voice.\n\nJames was my best friend throughout my life. He was always there for me. The next years were some of the best years of my life. My life wasn't entirely miserable and James was a big reason for that.\n\nI miss James. ",
"\"And that's what's behind the three doors,\" he said. Liz looked at him, expectantly, which the angel picked up on. \"You just pick one and go on through, simple as that!\" He smiled and leaned on the podium in front of him, looking dreamily in her direction.\n\n\"What about the fourth door?\" Liz asked. He looked at his name tag. \"Geoff?\"\n\n\"What fourth door?\" He responded without showing any reaction on his face and Liz wasn't sure the question registered.\n\n\"That fourth door!\" Liz pointed to the end of the row where a small, square door stood. It lacked any ornitation like the others, and was held closed with a slide bolt. It reminded Liz office the crawl space access in her house when she was alive.\n\n\"Oh!\" The angel looked at the little door at the end and shrugged. \"I don't know, nobody's opened it since I started here.\" He leaned his head in his hand as he continued to stare at Liz.\n\n\"You... You don't know? Look, you better stop looking at me like that, I swear.\" Liz raised a fist, and the angel recovered quickly.\n\n\"Oh my goodness, I'm sorry,I didn't realize,\" he said. \"Please don't tell anyone I'll be in SO much trouble. Just, please, pick one of the doors and we can both put this behind us and move on with our post-death lives.\"\n\n\"Tell me what's behind the fourth door,\" Liz said, intent on finding out. She didn't like that this angel, person, being wasn't telling her. It made her suspicious. \"If you don't know,\" she said through her teeth, \"find out.\"\n\n\"Oooh, um, I have the training manual here. Maybe it says?\" He pulled a thick, red three-ring binder from the podium. The was a picture of a door on the front with the words \"Office of Recently Deceased Relations\" written underneath. Liz didn't recognize the language, and it made her oddly queasy that she could read it anyway.\n\nLiz smiled at him encouragingly. \"That looks promising,\" she said. She watched Geoff thumb through the pages.\n\n\"Ah-ha!\" he says at last.\n\n\"You found it?\"\n\n\"Yup. Here's the script I'm supposed to read when somebody shows up. Sure enough, the are lines for the fourth door on the next page. Huh.\"\n\nLiz rolled her eyes. \"And?\"\n\n\"Well...\" Geoff read. \"It says you get to re-live your life. You're sent pack in time to your birth to live as yourself again. A second chance.\"\n\n\"What?\" Liz was livid. \"But, I don't remember anything about my life! I don't know if it was good, if it was bad, anything. And, if I'm reborn, I won't remember the previous time I lived this life, right?\" Geoff shrugged. \"If I don't remember, how would I avoid my past mistakes, or fix anything? That's stupid!\"\n\n\"I guess that's why nobody takes that option,\" Geoff said. They stood quietly for a moment while Liz thought.\n\n\"Somebody made these doors, right? Made them do what they do?\" She rubbed her face in her hands.\n\n\"Yup,\" Geoff said.\n\n\"Then, whoever made these doors had a reason for making the fourth door.\"\n\nGeoff shrugged again, silently.\n\nThe moments passed quietly as Liz thought. Surely there was a reason, but it didn't make sense to her. But, more than that, she couldn't stop thinking about what Geoff said: nobody ever went through. Why would they?\n\nNobody knew.\n\n\"I'll do it,\" she said at last. \"I choose the fourth door.\"\n\n\"You do?\" Geoff watched as she strode over, knelt down, and slide the bolt open.\n\n\"Wait, how do I know I had a door like this in my house?\" She looked at Geoff, who shrugged yet again, looking more confused than ever.\n\n\"Oh well,\" she said. \"There must be a reason.\" She opened the door and crawled through."
] | [
1,
3,
3
] | [
"1484196966",
"1484200305",
"1484202324"
] | |
[WP] You wake up from a coma to find yourself 2 million years into the future, only to realise that the world outside is a harsh wasteland. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"On the third floor of a condemned building in the Washington Heights neighborhood of Manhattan you put a needle in your arm. Inside the needle's bulb is black liquid, melted tar, heroin, a cheap high, five bucks a gram. You flash the bulb with a drop or two of your blood, it make no difference to the color just the time it takes for the drug to enter your system. \n\nYou depress the plunger. \n\nThe ashy elixir disappears into your body. Your perfectly evolved vessel. The one true thing you own.\n\nAt first you feel hot liquid then it spreads and you feel hot all over. Your heartbeat slows. Time stops. Your eyes droop closed. Life doesn't matter anymore. You float on warm empty clouds and all is nothing. You could ride this forever.\n\nAnd you die. \n\nIn the condemned apartment building the house-mother says, \"fuck that shit.\"\n\nSo your friends dump you on the street. \n\nA couple riding the wave of gentrification are the first people to not step over your corpse.\n\nThey call 911. \n\nA ambulance arrives. The EMTs aren't allowed to declare you dead so they drive you to the hospital. \n\nYou are saved by a young doctor from India. He isn't just doing his job. He has a special connection to the soul. He was meant to be a Jain monk. Without knowing what he is doing he accidentally locks your soul in life. \n\nYou cannot die. \n\nHe has never done this before. He will never do it again. He never knew he did do it until after his own soul left his body sixty years later. He didn't care then though, it was too late to care, death tends to take cares away.\n\nHe does visit you often and checks your chart and wonders, \"how are you alive, but also dead.\" He studies you. He writes papers about you that no one believes. \n\nHe violates your privacy for decades. \n\nYou dont care though.\n\nYou exist in an unknown blackness. A persistent void.\n\nYou are moved to the coma ward. Time passes. Your records are lost and recreated over and over again. You age. You are an old man. You become the old man that is just there. You are a withered vessel. You are pitied. There are no questions with answers. Your chest rises and falls. Your heart beats, but you are not dead, but there is nothing that can be done. Switches are pulled, cords are unplugged but you persist. \n\nYou survive centuries. \n\nYou survive millenniums.\n\nYou survive stars in distant parts of the galaxy going supernova. You survive the ort cloud being disrupted by unique gravitational events involving the rotation of the Milky Way which sends streams of icy rocks screaming towards the sun. \n\nAs those deep space chunks journey your way you continue by surviving hurricanes and earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. You are moved inland when the polar ice plug fails and the oceans rise.\n\nEventually you survive the calamity of the inevitable comet storm and the dust and ash clouds that gather in the atmosphere to eventually rain down.\n\nYou survive being buried by tons of earth.\n\nYou survive being forgotten. \n\nYou survive the wind eating the ground and eventually exposing your useless body.\n\nYou survive the sun swelling and pushing the planet off its axis causing it to float away from its Goldilock zone. The planet cools just enough to wipe out all life. \n\nIt is when the last protozoa dies you hear, \"Johnny wake up.\" \n\nThe request is from a singsongy voice, its the voice of your mother, of God, of potentially everything. You have no choice but to listen to it, so you do, you wake up to the black of your closed eyes. \n\nYou open your eyes and they part like long healed wounds.\n\nLike they weren't ever meant to open. The sound of snapping crusts and scabs is audible. Through cracked and broken eye lids you see the world, not with physical eyes, but with your soul. You part your mouth to scream, but it has also sealed. You tear at the leathery flesh with your knife lengths of brittle nail tipped fingers and peel your lips away, tearing the scab that is your mouth off, exposing the browned and rotten teeth hanging in thick papery gums. Once you free your jaw your mouth flops open useless because your tongue is a flat dried husk. Your throat is just hardened cartilage and sinew. In fact all of your muscles are atrophied jerky over fossilized bones. \n\nYou know you are because you can think and in thinking, are.\n\nBut you are the last. \n\nYou are the last in a brown dead world. \n\nYou are the last in a brown dead world billions of years away from being eaten by a a slowly expanding red sun. \n\nBut you are not alone. You have the universe and the universe has you.\n\n "
] | [
1,
3
] | [
"1484207856",
"1484248217"
] | |
[WP] VR Headsets are not used for looking into virtual realities, but alternate realities. | 43 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Watching.\n\nThere's a strange sort of hopelessness in that. Not that watching is necessarily a bad thing, if you happen to be a spy or a security guard or the Thing that stands at the foot of my bed every night as I try to sleep, but there's no point to watching when there's something terrible going on that you cannot help, a cause with no solution. A steady drop, down, faster, accelerating, into waters that are too far to be distinguished and too deep to give way.\n\nThe empty box still sits somewhere in the attic. Covered in dust, presumably, inside out. The thing that came inside it - a virtual reality headset, it was, spanking new and not even stolen, which was rare for Marian, especially on birthdays.\n\n\"You know what kind of a person throws away money on things that are being churned out a hundred a second from factories somewhere in China's shittiest towns, things rubbed over with so many filthy hands that never cared about it until it lost its value?\"\n\nI answered in the negative.\n\nShe told me, and handed me the box, a happy little gleam in her eyes. An innocent gleam, mind you. She was never the malicious sort, just a tad crazy, or maybe just bored. \n\n\"But I know how you feel about these things, love. Hope you have fun without the guilty conscience. I paid full price for this.\"\n\nWatching.\n\nAnd that's the point, isn't it? To watch. Watching the television, watching the news trickle in as you remember that there's nothing you can do about it. Watching, trapped within the skin that binds man as things happen which nobody cares about, trapped within the one thing that holds monopoly over everything we do; watching.\n\nI enjoyed it for a while. Not for the sake of watching virtual realities, but the feelings that it brought along with it, the savage, distilled realness, rawness to it all. It was almost as though the feelings were real.\n\nFear is the realest feeling, the only real one. That is what I felt, looking at the figures skulking around in the shadows, all of them speaking in the tongues of Almost and What If and Behind You. And for a while, I lied to myself, like how I lied to myself about how it mattered that Marian nicked trash from every other shop in town, or how it didn't matter that the people dead on BBC News were once real, or how the Things that I watched for a time were not animations at all. I told myself that as long as I watched, and only watched, it didn't matter. The VR Headset was simply well-made, that was all.\n\nWatching.\n\nThere comes a point in watching, however, when everything becomes inhumanly real, when it breathes and writhes and crawls on all fours like a demented Blind-Man's-Bluff player. Watching is only the beginning. There's a reason why having your child watch your domestic abuse is classed as child abuse. Because when the child begins to flinch at the sound of a raised voice, it's not called watching anymore. It's called feeling afraid.\n\nAnd when you've been watching the Things standing around behind your shoulder whether you're alone or in company, you begin to sense it. And you feel afraid too. I am afraid, now. Afraid of what I cannot unseen, what nobody cares about but me. Not even Marian. She's still crazy. I'm sane. But I'm afraid.\n\n\"My turn,\" the Thing seems to be saying as I remove the headset with bloodless hands. \"My turn to watch.\"\n"
] | [
1,
2
] | [
"1484256622",
"1484261482"
] | |
For clarification: your mind is being transported back to your own body, an hour prior to when you blinked, similar to the film _The Butterfly Effect_; however you don't snap back to the present afterward. | [WP] Every time you blink, you find your mind transported one hour back in time. Find some way to get help before it's too early. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"“For entering and defiling these sacred grounds you are cursed to watch your life flicker out of existence” said a booming voice.\n\n“Wha-”, *Blink.*\n\n“So if I follow this map I’ll find trea-”, *Blink.*\n\n“You have a surprise for me?”, *Blink.*\n\n“Ugh, I don’t want to get up t-”, *Blink.*\n\n10,000 blinks later.\n\n“Happy Birthday to-”. *Blink.*\n\n“It’s not really a surprise party if you te-”. *Blink.*\n\n“Great… It’s my birthday tod-”. *Blink.*\n\n100,000 blinks later.\n\n“Mommy! He won’t leave me alo-”. *Blink.*\n\n“I don’t want to get up for school tod-”, *Blink.*\n\n130,000 blinks later.\n\n“Wahh-”\n\nUnfortunately this curse was not planned out well in advance by the booming voice, and it had not realized that fetuses don’t start blinking in the womb until 28 weeks old. Thus, accidentally creating an endless loop at the fetuses first blink. Pondering the matter further, even if it was successful in eliminating the sinner with this curse. Wouldn’t the mother just have the child again? Would the new child now have the curse since the original disappeared? Too many questions for this booming voice to think about."
] | [
1,
3
] | [
"1484278344",
"1484282864"
] |
[WP] The same structure is present in the background of every dream, but your dreams always end before you can reach it; one day, you make it in. | 8 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"A cascade of whispers surrounded me in the darkness, growing ever louder and closer. My curiosity getting the better of me, my eyes snapped open to a green field, the whispers halted abruptly. \n\nThe field was rather empty, a dreamlike haze hung over it, though a clear tower stood in the middle of it.\n\nIt was always tall, blue, and never wavered in the fragility of the dream world. Omnipresent, always somewhere in the world, with its flat top and softly glowing spire. \n\nWhenever I saw it, the world around me became grounded, Anchoring my consciousness in the dream. The world became lucid. Thanks to it I had carried out many of my fantasies, indulged in unmatched pleasures and experienced what very few people could ever think to do. At the peak of that all, one goal stood out of reach.\n\nEnter the tower\n\nNo matter what I did, through either teleportation or flight, I woke up everytime I drew close to it. It was as it the controlling body of the dream didn't want me to enter, it drove me to near depression over my sudden relative powerlessness.\n\nAs I faced the ever-familliar tower, I gathered the entirety of my will, directing it to the simple goal of staying in the dream and entering the tower. I let out a roar of defiance and dashed forward in inhuman speeds, aiming for its great doors.\n\nAs I drew close the dream began to bleed away, I clasped my hands together and focused on the feeling as I ran, anchoring myself. I roared and pointed my shoulder forward, bursting through the tower doors and collapsing in the sudden pain.\n\nFocusing on the pain, I noticed the bleeding feeling had faded. I pushed myself up onto my feet and faced a small podium, a single slot for one's hand adorned its center. I walked forward and placed my hand on it, the floor below me rumbled, shooting upwards. \n\nWithin seconds, I emerged into a massive room, a lone figure sitting in one of the corners of the room. Her body was coated in blood and wounds and whispered a series of maddened words, describing something indescribable.\n\nI swore she was familliar, that I had seen her from somewhere before, though my memory was truly blank for her. I turned my attention away from the maddened dream character, facing the open roof.\n\nI willed myself up, floating to the peak of the tower, feeling the sunlight. I gazed out to the horizon, it had twisted itself when I entered the tower or some time after. It was almost of poetic beauty, I could see everything from up this tower, every dreamscape I had ever travelled to.\n\nI turned away from the sight and faced a thin spire in the center of the tower, a small dish at its top. I felt the dream start to end, I made my way to the top.\n\nA small podium stood at the peak of the dream, a book covered in patterns one can not describe lay atop it. My hands drifted to it, opening the strange tome, desiring its contents.\n\nAs the first page was revealed, I was surrounded by an abyssal void. As I read the book, I felt happiness, felt sadness, fear, courage, pleasure, pain. I saw nothing, yet I saw everything. Ancient, secret truths filled my mind, revealing to me the true mechanisms of the universe. \n\nI felt an ascension, a true elevation into godhood. I alone had been chosen to bring this knowledge to the world, to bring the world I know into its next childhood. At one moment, I gazed into the celestial void, the cosmos. One star shone greater than all others, one that I felt belonged to me. I reached for the star, clasping it, holding it close.\n\nI gazed up, feeling its warmth spreading through my body, embracing it. I was surrounded by everything... and then nothing...\n\nI turned the last page of the book, closing it. Clasping the book close to my bosom, I felt the world around me disappear, replaced by the familliar morning air.\n\nI opened my eyes to that ever familliar ceiling, smiling at my experience. I stared at the book laying on my desk, it was covered in paterns that no one could ever describe.",
"I lay in my bed unable to sleep once more. The dreams had taken a hold of me to the point where the real world seemed like the dreams, you could call it an obsession but I called it curiosity. We all know what that did to the cat. I sighed as I rolled to my side and gazed upon the sleeping pills, I had not given in to them yet. The moment I did was the moment I gave up on reality, that castle had become my bane.\n\nThe castle would always mock me from a distance, but at the same time it would call out for me. I did not care for the context of my dreams no more but only for the castle, it still took me a while before I realised that I was dreaming but every time I did I would set out for that castle. I could hear it calling my name in its silence, I pictured a dense fog surrounding it and dark shadows cast from nowhere would cover it giving a deep depressing monotone feeling every time I would gaze upon it. Sometimes I would dream up a patch of grass and lay on it and stare at it for hours, sometimes I had to pinch myself awake to remind myself it was not real.\n\nTonight was different, I could not sleep despite being awake for 3 days. I did not force myself to stay awake but my body did probably out of anticipation, like it was Christmas and im 10 years old. I decided to lay here and wait until my body gave up and fell asleep on its own, I hope the 10 mile jog I just did was enough to deprive it of energy. I heard a knock at the window.\n\n\"Lewis! Lewis!\" It was my mother's voice.\n\n\"Mum?\" I checked the clock, the numbers were readable but at the same time incomprehensible. She looked at me with at smile through the window \"what time is it?\"\n\n\"Come on, this way\" she told me without answering my question, I watched as she danced down my garden. I was outside now, watching her climb a tree although I did not question it. \"Come on! This way\" she called down to me. I began climbing the tree, a branch present wherever I put my hands and feet. The climb seemed to stretch on forever yet my house as close as it was when I left it. I finally reached my mum who was looking over at the horizon, I lived in a valley and the other side was always in view.\n\n\"Mum? What are you looking at?\" She vanished. Now I knew it was a dream, my mum had died 5 years. I looked to where she was looking, there it was... that castle. I willed myself closer to it and it appeared in front of me, I was stood in the front driveway which circled around a modest fountain. It never worked but today a droplet kept falling into the basin at the bottom of the fountain making a slight dripping noise. *Lewis* I looked up at the castles front door, it was 10 foot wide and 10 foot high with silver lining but built with wooden panels. I walked past the fountain, I had never made it this far before. *LEWIS* the castle shouted my name now but with no voice but I could hear it all the same. *How much time had passed in the real world? Five minutes? Five hours?* I crept up to the door to not spook myself into waking up, I couldnt wake up... not now. Eventually I reached the door, looking behind me the fountain was now sprouting three streams of water which sprinkled over into the basin. I turned back and knocked on the door as if I had no control over my own body.\n\nThe door opened on its own and I walked through, it lead into a hallway with an open wall showing a grand interior garden complete with numerous colorful flowers, although dimmed in the dim light of the unnatural shadows. \"May I help you?\" I turned in shock, an old man stood there with white hair and an old looking cane, he wore a suit like he was the castles Butler. \n\n\"Wh...who are you?\" I asked the old man. He smiled at me.\n\n\"Ah you must be Lewis, we get lots of visitors nowadays. Not like the old days\" he stared at the floor for a while then looked back up \"ah yes Lewis was it? Nice to meet you, I'm the Butler\" he stuck out his hand for me.\n\n",
"Long ago it had turned into an obsession, devouring my life into a wake-less existence. Long ago, I had begun my journey. Every day though I return unsuccessful.\n\n\nSometimes it appears in the fields at the back of the old house. A long black tower that spirals upwards to the pale blue. Sometimes it is there blended in a city of height and congestion. No matter where, it is always there.\n\n\nFor some time now I have known when I am dreaming. The tower's presence alerts me and I become lucid and I begin my quest. For months and for years I had tried to journey to that tower. For so long I had always come close, always failing.\n\n\nIt obsessed me. My life began to be taken over by it and the waking day felt unreal and useless. In this world, bounded by laws and reality, things follow a course of slow demise and decay. In the world of sleep, there is life. There is hope. I see the tower and it pulses with a muted, negative light. From the cornfields of home and from the mountains of dream, it calls me, challenges me to enter its door.\n\n\nEvery time I near it, I wake up. I had reached closed many times, but always awakening as the moment drawn. There would be a heavy feeling when I awake and a sadness that was long ago. I needed to get to it. I had to enter.\n\n\nInside the tower I could hear singing. From the path that enters, the sounds if sadness drifted to my ears. She was inside there, whoever she was. It seems as though I have known her my entire life. I have never met her though. And so I would hear her voice and know it was there I must go.\n\n\nThere was only one recourse then. There was only one solution. I made a big decision and I bought some pills in the wakeful world. In the dark of my room I stared at them and thought long and hard of what I must do.\n\n\n\"Do it,\" she said.\n\n\nIt was the first time I had ever heard her voice from the waking world. \n\n\n\"There is nothing for you hear.\"\n\n\nAnd yet she sounded so familiar.\n\n\n\"Come to me. Come see me now.\"\n\n\nAnd I took the pills. The world spun and darkened and I think it was then that the regret came and I began to sob and wish I had never done it. But it gets so hard to think back sometimes, and it is all a blur. \n\n\nI faded. I drifted off forever and I awoke naked near the old house in the fields. I don't know why my dreams always took me there, perhaps it was where I was happiest the most. But I looked up and saw the tower in the distance. It was my only salvation for I knew I would never wake up.\n\n\nI went to it, slowly at first, and then as fast as I could manage. I was lucid, I suppose, but I could not control this dream. This was not a dream anymore. I continued on as an insatiable hunger came and a striking thirst built. I continued for days and months and an eternity, but I never awoke, and finally I arrived.\n\n\nThe tower that had stricken me so and the song that had compelled my actions, was gone. Only a hobble remained, old stone and thatch, and I wandered in, an anxious, sad feeling emerging. There was darkness and the smell of hay and old cloth. Inside was bare and static but for the flickering shadows of myself and her. \n\n\nShe stared at the wall and away from me. She was old, ancient almost, and wore tattered rags. Her hair was grey and thin and as she turned she smiled with a wicked face.\n\n\n\"Finally you've come,\" she said. \"Finally you have done it.\"\n\n\n\"Why am I here?\" I asked.\n\n\nShe sat down on a barrel to the corner. \n\n\n\"Because I was lonely, and so were you.\"\n\n\nShe laughed to herself and motioned for me to sit.\n\n\n\"What do I do?\" I asked.\n\n\n\"Well, now you can sit here with me. You can keep me company.\"\n\n\n\"So, I just talk to you?\"\n\n\n\"For all eternity... But I don't feel much like talking.\"\n\n\nShe laughed again and was quiet. She stared at the wall and did not move. Though I could not explain, I knew I could never leave this place and go out into the wide expanse ever again. I sat there and tried to talk, but she would not answer. Occasionally she would laugh to herself like a mad woman, but it was always as if I was not there. I sat there in the dark and wondered at what I had done. "
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1,
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2,
4
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"1484304926",
"1484312264",
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[WP] Millennia ago, in 2017, Satan and Jesus' names were swapped in all copies of the bible. You are Jesus, and you must save humanity as the evolution of texting has rendered them mute. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"It is I, Jesus Christ, who has been designated to save you from the horrors and villainy of mankind!\", I texted everyone, as a mass message to the world.\nAnd so the device I had been using was attacked with numerous vibrations from all across the world.\n\"Lucifer Azrael! IT'S THE JESUS!\"\n\n\"AAAAAAAHHHHHH! Lucifer save us!\"\n\nHell's bells, I thought to myself. What have I just done? Why didn't I know about this? Wait, I did. I can recall a time when that notorious little boy named Jacob switched some names in the Holy Book.\n\n\"I'm just kidding guys, I'm new to christianity. Who is Lucifer Azrael? I need some more context. What are his physical features? How can I recognize him when he comes?\", I texted again. (Obviously I knew it was the devil that they worshipped, but they probably had devolved enough anyways to tell me his physical features, and besides, I needed a description of him in their eyes. I had a plan.)\n\n\"He's covered in fire.\"\n\n\"His skin is red.\"\n\n\"He has horns.\"\n\nThe usual. As I pulled out my costume from my robe, I began getting ready to take a picture.\n\nJesus of Nazareth has changed their name to Lucifer Azrael \n\"hey its me ur savior\""
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1,
1
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"1484349113",
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[WP] Tears in time/space are difficult to create, but lucky for you you've learned the secrets. Today is your first day as a crack dealer. | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"Alright, where does this one lead?\"\n\nI slid the hefty slab of concrete closer to me. It had the same patterns as the rest, but I built this one with some extra runes to send them back in time.\n\n\"This one? 17th century London; not sure of the exact date, because I smudged the marker while making it. \n\n\"Nah. Not my type of place. Out of curiosity, how much?\"\n\n\"Two million.\"\n\n\"Got anyhing I might be interested in?\"\n\n\"Well, I got this one; been waiting to use it myself.\" I grabbed one of granite, the power within creating a cyan crack in the middle. \"But for fifty million, i'll let you be the one who shoots Hitler in the bunker.\"\n\n\"What's the point of that? He dies at the same time as before, nothing changes, why not murder him earlier?\"\n\n\"You can't change history; you can only learn more about it.\" \n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"So, you can learn that you're the one who shot Hitler, and that you're the real hero here. The satisfaction of that; i'd pay fifty million myself if I hadn't killed other tyrants at the end of their lives already.\"\n\n\"That's pointless.\"\n\n\"Thought you might insist. Want me to custom build something for the present so you can actually make the future? It hasn't been written yet, so... interested?\"\n\n\"How much?\"\n\n\"Well, that depends on where you want to go and what you want to do with it.\"\n\nThere was a brief pause.\n\n\"Do you have anything that'll send me to Mars?\"\n\n\"Yes, been there a few times. The portal mechanism keeps you from contaminating Mars with your microbes, and provides breathable air, so no worries. It loses the appeal after a while, though.\"\n\n\"How about five million for it?\"\n\n\"Sounds reasonable. Want me to dump you next to a rover just to fuck with scientists?\"\n\n\"Sure.\""
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1,
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"1484357819",
"1484365536"
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[WP] It's the future. Brain transplantation is old news. Terminal ill people switch bodies with prisoners on death row on a regular basis. You wake up in your new body and notice that something is totally wrong. | 212 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"The nurse has such lovely green eyes, and her figure was to die for. Too bad her face was covered with a surgical mask. Had I been younger I would have made a pass at her, soon maybe. Her cold hands grasped my wrist taking my pulse. I couldn’t help myself imagining me grasping her as she begged and pleaded with me to stop. Women these days say they can take a little foreplay, but when it comes down to it their just weak pathetic things. The doctor came in surgical mask already covering his face. “Mr. Thompson we are ready to begin the procedure. I must ask you once more before we begin if you are sure you wish to go through with the transfer.” I grinned. Of course I was sure who wouldn’t want to trade in their old cancer ridden body for a sleek new model. I nodded to the doctor and uttered “ Of course doctor, I already paid for it so lets get this show on the road.” The doctor nodded back and left the room gesturing to the nurse to push me into the operating room. The procedure cost me a fortune though I had several. Not everyone could afford this procedure, but then we wouldn’t want the riff raff to live forever now would we. The only draw back was having to use the body of some low life on death row. Yes soon my mind would be transferred into a fresh new body, and I could rid myself of the old dying body. My vision grew hazy as the gurney was being pushed through the halls of the hospital. The nurse with the green eyes lean over looking down on me and said, “Nothing to worry about Mr. Thompson we started your anesthetic” I nodded quickly. I was surprised at myself, I felt a bit nervous. I suppose its not everyday you get a new body, so perhaps it natural to feel some last minute apprehension. The gurney bumped into something a door or wall, I’m not quite sure. I cant seem to focus. My head Screamed, and so was I apparently. A nurse came to my side quickly. “Its okay sir, this is perfectly natural you have gone through a traumatic event.” My head still pounding I could not help myself the pain. I needed something to make the pain stop. The nurse only tried to get me to lay back down, but that wasn’t going to help. I needed pain killers, why couldn’t she understand. Still screaming I tried to grab the nurse to get her to understand, I guess I moved too quickly my hand connected with her face and she hit the floor. Two more nurses rushed to my bed side. The male nurse quickly restraining me while the other fiddled with something by my bedside. The world became hazy again. That’s much better, see why couldn’t that first nurse had done that. I awoke again head now only a dull ache. A doctor approached my bedside and took a seat near me offering a glass of water. “Now you have some swelling on your frontal lobe, but nothing too bad considering. Take a few of these and see me back here in a week. You are free to go.” The doctor handed me a bottle of pills, and promptly left. Quite rude if you ask me. For what I’m paying this hospital you would think he could spare even a minute to ask me how I’m feeling or tell me about the procedure. Was he even the same doctor? A fat ugly nurse burst into the room looked over at me, and in an exasperated voice cried out “ Oh for heavens sake get up and get out, your not dying and the doctors dismissed you. We have a dozen more patients who need this bed, now go!” A bit startled and confused I clamored out of bed and made my way towards the door. The nurse didn’t so much as look at me. Once out the door I realized I was in the lower emergency ward. The ward for the god dammed poor. Oh I would have to have a word with the administrators of this hospital. The large nurse exited the room holding a pile of white sheets, running straight into me. She gasped, and yelled out, “ Oh for the last time get a move on and get out of my way!” Another nurse approached. I remember this nurse it was her green eyes, she still wore a surgical mask. “I’m sorry sir I will escort you out of the hospital.” “You and your staff will be hearing from my lawyers. To place me in the lower wards! I have crushed much more important people for far less!” I spat at the nurse. “We apologize for the inconvenience, however as you can see we are quit busy.” Head pounding again I didn’t have the patience to deal with this. Tomorrow after some rest I'll call Barry he’ll deal with this poor excuse for a hospital. Arriving at my penthouse I immediately went to the bathroom and popped a few pain pills to dull my head. Glancing in the mirror I saw a young man. A bit started by the man looking back at me I grinned. Oh to be young again. The pain dulling, I felt an itch on my right shoulder. I scratched at it, feeling an odd scar. Four bumps. The itch faded and I thought no more of it. It was time to break in this new body, or at least break in a little 20 something. Picking up my phone I dialed a number I knew so well. A few hours later the escort knocked on my door. I opened the door and smiled ear to ear. Her long dark hair and figure almost made me miss her piercing green eyes. What was it with the green eyes lately. I grabbed the woman not wanting to waist a moment, and stripped her. She did not protest, but she would soon enough. I awoke to the sound of a heavy fist pounding on the door. “OPEN UP!” more pounding. I felt cold, wet and slightly sticky. Sitting up I looked down at my hands and saw…red. Blood. What the hell? I looked about the room, it was covered in blood. I gasped and vomit rose into my throat. The hooker from the previous night lay at the foot of the bed covered in blood. The door flew open and three cops strode in guns in hand. “Put your hands on your head!” The ride to the police station was a blur my head pounding. What the hell happened? I was taken into a small room with two metal chairs, a metal table separating them. I was hand cuffed to the far chair, and a portly cop sat on the other chair facing me large vanilla folder in hand. “Mr. Jefferson you are in a world of trouble, though I doubt given your record you aren’t already aware.” Mr. Jefferson, who the hell was Mr. Jefferson? The name sounded familiar , but I’m not sure from where. “Mr. Jefferson I am hear to inform you that you are being charged with murder.” You will be provided with a lawyer who should be here shortly.” “ Now wait just a minute!” I spat at the officer. “ I am not this Jefferson fellow, I’m Daniel F. Thompson I own The J.F. Thompson corporation! I will not be treated this way! I just had a mind transfer officer. I…” The officer cut me off “Mr. Jefferson, I am aware or your record you have tried this defense previously. Four times in fact.” At that moment the doctor from my surgery walked into the room. “Sorry I am late officer, This is Mr Jefferson?” The officer nodded. “Good I will need a moment alone with him.” The officer got up quickly and left. I yelled out to the officer, “Sir this man did the surgery he can back-up my story!” The officer just left without a word. The doctor sat down in the chair facing me, a smile spread across his face. “Mr. Thompson…or I should say Mr. Jefferson since Mr. Thompson is no longer with us. His mind transfer candidate escaped before he could have the procedure.” The smile grew on the doctors face. “Your confused I know. You see you were a terrible man and terrible men don’t deserve to live forever. I’m going to let you in on a little secret. We framed you. My partner and I have gotten quite good at this. Sure the first time was a bit messy, but the next three went much more smoothly. I suspect this one to go so much faster. You see Mr. Jefferson you have killed several people in your life time or so your record would indicate. I am afraid I must go now Mr. Jefferson a lot of paper work to do a confession to submit. Glad you are willing to make the courts life easy by the way.” I went numb. How did this happen no it couldn’t be right. This was wrong , a dream, or something.” The next few days were a flurry of prison transfers, I was thrown from cell to cell, prison to prison, and then finally a padded room. No matter how much I protested screaming that they had it wrong, nothing seemed to work. The doctor walked into my cell a few days later accompanied by a familiar looking woman with deep red hair. The doctor sat down next to me. You have been deemed insane, and the court agrees you are a danger to your fellow man. The court did however put you back on the mind transfer list. I guess this means we will be seeing each other again, well not you exactly”. At this the man grabbed me shoved me to the floor. The woman quickly pulled down my shirt and pulled out a small scalpel. She looked at me and cut slowly across the four marks on my back. Her deep green eyes smiling back at me as she whispered “Number five.”\n",
"Two beds stood in the recovery room. One of them was fitted with retainers and two guards were sitting left and right of it. The one on the left was reading a mag about mobile phones. He was bored and just flipped through the pages on the search for something interesting. The other guard looked at the person in the bed.\n\"Can you believe the level of irony here?\"\n\"Mmmh?\" The other guard mumbled.\n\"I mean look at this body. It is basically useless. No legs. Only half an arm. No eyes, no teeth, no tongue. I really don't know why we are sitting here.\"\nThe first guard put the mag on the table, giving up finding anything worthy to read: \"Yeah, I know. I really doubt that she will escape.\" He took his iphone out of his pocket and checked the time. \"One hour already.\" He looked up and caught the attention of the nurse that was busy looking at the other patient: \"Are you sure she isn't already awake?\". The nurse sighed. \"This one is waking up now.\" She came over to the guards and looked at the crippled body. She touched its throat and looked at her watch: \"She should wake up any minute now. Will you bring her back to her cell?\".\nThe guard without the cell phone shook his head: \"No. She stays in the hospital until the execution tomorrow. This cripple can not be left alone and in this body she is not considered a threat anymore.\"\n\"They should have killed her on the table, if you ask me.\" said the guard with the phone. \"Putting a brain in that thing; just to kill it the next day\"\n\"That's what I meant with irony: Putting her in the body of her victim. That's comedy gold. I would let her live the rest of her miserable life\"\n\nJeniffer woke up.\nShe heard voices talking softly.\nShe felt the warm blanket on her body.\nShe tried to remember where she was.\nThe words: \"I will now slowly count to ten. One ...\" echoed through her mind.\nRight. She was in the hospital. She got the brain transplant. She moved her arm. It took her by suprise how heavy it was. \n\"Am I restrained?\", she thought. \nThen she understood: It was a complete arm. She tried to spread her fingers. She felt her fingers moving over the warm fabric of the bed. She moved her other arm, her legs. She felt with her tongue in her mouth. She tasted something like medicine in her mouth. The teeth felt strange. They seemed so big. She remembered that somebody, her doctor?, told her that the tongue is a very sensitive organ and that her new teeth will feel wrong, but that is common and would go away very fast. Like when you visit a dentist and a tooth is different after the visit.\nShe opened her eyes.\nAnd after three long years in the dark she could see again.\n\nTwo weeks later she opened the doors of her apartment. It was dark and cold and the first thing she did was open all the curtains and turned up the heaters. She barely look at the mail that piled behind the door. It took two weeks of rehab to get used to the new body and now it was as if it had always been hers. Her old body was already executioned and SHE was dead. She smiled.\nShe went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. She opened a drawer and took a scalpel out.\n\nShe looked at her torturers face with cold eyes: \"Now we're alone, bitch.\"",
"You're on death row and the clock is ticking. You have 5 minutes left to dwell about what you did to that man. Your life will be taken from you but your body shall stay and be given to someone else. Uniforms hold your resistant body to the bed, strapping you in. They put a mask over your mouth, forcing you to inhale the fatal toxins that will kill you but keep your body from decomposing.\nSnippets of your life flash before your eyes before you black out.\n\n*\"It's an honour to be welcoming you back, Timmy. I'm also pleased to announce that the surgery was successful. Your new body is fully functional, too.\"*\n\nYou get a glimpse of the room with blurred vision. You aren't strapped into your bed anymore. Beside you stands flowers on the cabinet and pictures of unfamiliar faces.\n\n*\"Timmy?\"* \n\nYou aren't Timmy, you're supposed to be dead. ",
"They had specifically told me that patients were not allowed to meet their donors. It could cause a permanent separation between mind and body after the procedure, having met the person who previously inhabited it. They said that when I looked in the mirror, instead of coming to terms with the fact that I was seeing my new self, I would always perceive the woman of origin.\n\nI wish I hadn’t ignored their advice.\n\n----\n\n“You can sit up. Slowly, now.” Nerves sent information to my brain, explaining that a hand was being placed on the shoulder blade, coaxing me to sit up. The effort of moving into an upright position had altered. Even sitting down I had to find a sort of balance of where to hold the weight that I was now carrying. I put too much force into moving upright and erected too fast, almost touching my toes.\n\n“Slowly, slowly.” The nurse cooed, her hands on the shoulders, still pressing nerve stimuli into my brain.\n\nThe muscles around the mouth felt stiff and tight, turned downward into a frown as I forced what felt like swollen lips into shapes to form sounds. “How did it go?” The tongue felt too big, pushing up against teeth. My words were inconcise, drawn out and malformed. It felt like I was drunk. Every movement had to be specifically thought about and recalculated. There was a miniscule delay in what I wanted to do and then how the body followed me. There was some strange pressure pushing at me from every direction inward.\n\n“Everything went smoothly. Dr. Reyon will be in in a moment to test your reflexes.”\n\nDr. Reyon gave me a clean bill of health and sent me home the next day. He explained that adjusting would take some considerable time, but that as long as I maintained my weekly mental health check-ups everything would align and I would feel like a brand new woman.\n\nAs I stepped outside, I was floored by the color of the sky. It was as if the spectrum had re-aligned. The blue of the sky was different hue, as was everything around me. My boyfriend took my hand.\n\n“How does it look?” he asked, watching the reactions of the face I was now wearing.\n\n“The same… but different. I don’t know how to describe it. They’re all the same colors… but they look different.” I had gotten better at the annunciation of my words, but my lips still felt like what I imagined Kylie Jenner Lip Challenge ontakers felt like after butchering their faces.\n\n“Come on, I’ll drive.” He pulled me to the parking lot. My eyes were still glued to the clouds passing across the sky.\n\nWe had taken all the mirrors down in our apartment at suggestion of the psychiatrist. He explained it was more important to first feel like myself before I started grasping my new identity visually. When I caught glimpses of myself in the microwave oven door, or a reflection in the window, I would quickly turn away. If I inadvertently caught my own eye, there was a residual shock in my core similar to the feeling of watching someone in a video get seriously injured. Those eyes looking back haunted me.\n\nThe first time my boyfriend and I made love after the switch was disconcerting. I found that our favorite routines lacked the same feeling. My body responded differently to his, and we stopped in the middle, frustrated and hurt. I had this unbearably insane notion that he was cheating on me…. With me. No matter how ridiculous I knew it was… I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling. I knew what he wanted, and his body was still the same I had come to love, but he had to learn an entirely new experience being with me and I tortured myself with the thought that he enjoyed it. That he liked the new body better than the last. Did I want him to?\n\nWhen it came time to replace the mirrors and start to embrace my body visually, that’s when things started to go wrong. I started having conversations with my reflection. It started with me talking to myself, to prove that it was still me inside this body. But it quickly evolved into something else.\n\nResponses start coming to me that didn’t feel like me. Instead of being able to claim ideas, to track their origin, they seemed to spawn from somewhere else and drop inside my brain, fully developed. I would suddenly, inadvertently and absolutely know things I hadn’t known before. I started to have blackout periods.\n\nMy boyfriend became worried, understandably considering I couldn’t remember our last conversation. I couldn’t remember going to work the day before. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had sex. \n\nWhen I talked to my psychiatrist about this, he barely seemed concerned. He said that I was still adjusting and that in time, my blackouts would diminish until they were nothing. So I continued following his advice and confronting myself in the mirror.\n\nWhen I first saw it, the sign was inconspicuous, almost hidden. I think that’s what was drawing me to it. After walking by it the first few times, and it still drawing me in, I gave in. It simply said “SEER” in bold, Impact style font. The white paint underneath the red lettering didn’t seem to have dried before being painted on. Parts of the letters seemed almost foggy.\n\nThe air inside was stale, infused with incense. The lady sitting at the front desk looked me up and down for a long moment without saying a word. \n\n“Hi. I-“ But she silenced me when her dead cold stare flew up to meet my gaze. She walked over to me, grabbed my hand and pulled me into the back room where hundreds of candles had already been lit. She had a lot of strength for someone so small and frail. She pulled on my shoulders to force me into a sitting position at one end of the table. She sat herself across from me and pulled her feet up so she was sitting cross legged. She still had not said a word when she closed her eyes and started a weird combination of humming and chanting, waving her body back and forth.\n\nI was beginning to feel uncomfortable, shifting in my chair, wondering if I should leave. She hadn’t asked me why I was there. I had never done this before, but I felt like this was odd.\n\nWhen she opened her eyes and looked at me, she had a mixture of fear and curiosity written on her face. “Your soul is dead.”\n\n“Excuse me?” I asked, incredulous.\n\n“The soul in that body does not belong to you. Who are you?”\n\n“What do you mean my soul is dead? I am me. How can I be here without my soul?” \n\n“Your soul was separated from you. It now dwells in the otherworld with the other souls that have passed on from this place.” She cocked her head at me. “Have you practiced Black Magic?” she inquired.\n\n“No, I needed a body transplant. I am me, this is just my new body!” I had begun breathing heavily. She was now looking at me with sadness. I couldn’t take it. She was scaring me. I stood up, but her gnarled hand snatched my forearm as I turned to leave.\n\n“Our souls are not confined to this time and place. If you move your ‘self’, and there is no place for your soul to follow, it passes on. Your soul is in the otherworld, waiting for you.” She released my hand then, and I tore out of the place.\n\nWhat she said stuck with me for weeks. Where, after all, is the line between physical self and soul?\n\nRight now I am looking down at his body. My boyfriends body. The mail opener had been sitting on the end table a moment ago. Now I watched as blood seeped between flesh and its edges, pouring onto the sheets and my hands. I looked up and could see her face in the reflection of the frame above the bed. It was her face, not mine.\n\nSomewhere in the back of my head I heard the maniacal laughter of the woman I had gone to meet on death row. The woman whose soul refused to leave her body. The woman whose body I now resided in. The cold metal of the prison walls reflected in the peripherals of my vision and in front of me I could almost see her screaming, leaning toward me.\n\n“I killed the cheating bastard! I’D DO IT AGAIN.”\n",
"I blinked. Twice. Vision blurry. Something was wrong. It wasn't the gun to my head and the doctor's trembling hand. There was something else. I just...\n\n*Security question?* There had been a few incidents before, where the brains were meant to be swapped but accidentally got put back in the original owner's body. Being my first time 'going over', I knew there would be a security question. It just didn't make sense to... be strapped down in bed with a shaking doctor holding a gun to my head.\n\nMy mouth opened but the words were garbled. \"Sek'witty qus'shun?\"\n\nStrange. But expected. When you transfer the brain, nothing else comes with it. And your brain is specific to your body. Even my eyes were jittery and unfocused. Still, something was familiar about it, I just couldn't quite put my finger on it. Not yet.\n\n\"Name?\" The doctor demanded, a booming voice sending me reeling and my ears screeching in pain. My heart leapt to pounding. I writhed against the restraints and yelped out. In that moment of fear and panic, ears burning, he pulled back and my vision flashed into focus. Just a second, but I could see his dipped lips, his hilly brows and contorted features. Not enough to pin down worry, fear, anger or anything. Just negativity.\n\n\"Afiz! Azish Awom!\" I cried, my tongue flapping about as if blowing a raspberry. My mind clicked. When I was ill, I couldn't hear. And my voice, if I wasn't mistaken was a raspy whisper to him. At best. \n\n\"Akes Umwum!\" I screamed at the top of my lungs, causing him to step back and visibly twitch despite my pulsating vision. I grit my teeth, lungs burning in pain. It was as if I hadn't even left a lung cancer ridden body.\n\nI heard the hammer being thumbed and wailed. His hands shook. What did I do? Was the death row inmate a mentally ill person? My lungs burned, but I did my damndest to signify pain and innocence. \"Insunt! Insunt!\"\n\nHe pushed the barrel to my skull. I shut up.\n\n\"I know you're innocent,\" he thundered, \"I know, I know, I...\" \n\nHis voice was... cracking?\n\nThe cool metal left my head and blew a hole in the floor by the sounds of it. Rattling around and tearing up the tiles, my eyes screwed shut in wincing.\n\n\"I know you didn't kill her, but...\" he sighed. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\nI swallowed the bundle of nerves, another bout of fire in my chest. Maybe I wouldn't die just yet. That'd be nice.\n\n\"I'm sorry...\"\n\n\"Ik o!\" I yelled in a normal person's ground shaking voice, trying to tell him it was okay. \n\n\"No, I'm... I'm a professional. I **know** that you're not him. I **know** that you're innocent. I **know**, I know, I know. But each time I look at that face, I just want to strangle you.\"\n\nMy vision was coming back, and I could see the redness of his cheeks, and the glimmers of tears bouncing back. I coughed, shattering my world. \n\n\"C-come on, let's get you up, we need to put you through all the tests and care I denied that son of a bitch,\" he said, injecting his tone with as much cheer as he could manage before throwing up. I would have raised a hand to his, if not for the restraints. \n\nAnother cough. My world went black.\n\n \n\nI woke up to blinding lights, gasping in air. \n\n\"I think he's okay?\"\n\n\"He has to be.\" The doctor's voice.\n\n\"....\" I breathed, my voice not working when asking 'what happened'. Panic overtook me. What was wrong? Did the doctor poison me? Was my new body broken? \n\n\"The body should be working now.\"\n\nHot breath blasted my ears.\n\n\"I'm sorry...\" Him again. \"I thought... I... I wanted him to suffer. I...\"\n\nLights adjusted and I smiled.\n\n\"Ik o.\" \n\nMy vision was blurry again. But at least I could breathe easy.\n\n****\n\nVisit *(and maybe even consider subscribing to)* **/r/AlexUrwin** for more stories and bodies to inhabit!\n\nSidenote: I see the ambiguity. I took 'brain transplants are old news' as Brain Transplants are the norm these days.",
"Everything is flesh. The brain itself is about three pounds of meat and fatty tissue, wired via meat to the rest of the human body. Suffering gets so that it's undifferentiated, like it's part of you and you can't imagine being free of it. Quick: where in the body-brain dichotomy is nausea located? Where do you cut into to excise chronic fatigue? Where is pain? Is it all in your head? Or if you just severed the nerve endings, popped out the brain and slotted it into a brand new body, would you still wake up wanting to die? \n\n\"This is a standard procedure,\" Dr. Jessen told me, as I was wheeled into the operating room, imagining a convict's body waiting for me. All that pain slotted into a new body. Waste of time, I wanted to say, but the anesthesia was kicking in. \"I've done it dozens of times. You'll wake up, and you'll be a whole new you.\" \n\nEverything went dark for a moment. I woke up. \n\nImagine your body - I know it's right there, but close your eyes and recreate it. How high do you stand? What's your gait like when you walk, what's the pattern your teeth make across your tongue? How heavy are you? Where do you carry the weight? How far can you stretch and which positions make your muscles complain? You think about it, and that's all you are, the meat. That's the vantage point from where you view the world. Every breath you take, every blink, every swallow of saliva, every pulse and heartbeat, that's you, that's your body, that's all you are. \n\nAnd I was something totally different. \n\nI was without pain, sure, Dr. Jessen beaming down proudly at me. I stood and my feet were spread apart too wide, I was a few inches too high and got vertigo. There were muscles rippling over me that I'd never had. \"We did the tattoo removal beforehand,\" Dr. Jessen cut in. \"So that you wouldn't need to go through the trouble.\" \n\nI was looking down at a stranger's hands. My brain was bobbing in a stranger's head. \"Oh my god,\" I said, and the voice came out wrong, reverberated the wrong way in my skull. The voice was on the verge of tears, pleading with me. \"Please,\" I said, testing the words. \"Please. I want to live.\" \n\nDr. Jessen's brow furrowed. \"Please, Mr. Keppler, you're absolutely fine.\" His hands came up, herding me back to the hospital bed, and the body stumbled along. \"You're going to live! The operation was a complete success!\" \n\n\"Not that,\" I said, and buried my face in the hands. No. Not my face. None of it was mine. \"How the fuck - Who is this? Why did he have to die?\" I grabbed Jessen by the collar, shoving him up against the wall with a stranger's wrath. His eyes went wide behind his glasses. \"You killed him! How many of them did you kill!\" \n\n\"Security!\" Jessen squeaked. \"Mr. Keppler, Mr. Keppler, I assure you, this man was a murderer, he was on death row, he absolutely deserved to \" \n\n\"Why are there so many on death row!\" I said, and let him drop. The door burst open and two security guards came in, looking between us questioningly. \n\n\"Mr. Keppler is having an adverse reaction!\" Jessen said immediately. \"If you'll please - If you'll restrain him for a moment -\"\n\n\"Sir,\" one of them said, moving towards me. \n\n\"This is a standard procedure!\" I yelled. There was new blood pumping through my brain, through the veins, filling the muscles. \"Why the fuck are we executing this many people? We can cut out a brain-\" \n\n\"Sir. Sir, please -\" \n\n\"-we can switch it into a new body, thread the nerves together, and yet the only thing we can think to do to a murderer is kill him?\" The world changes in a new body, the proportions are different. Everything was slowly warping around me, taking on a new form of sense. \"I never questioned it. How could I? I was in pain! I just wanted the best chance of being free from suffering!\" The body was me. The brain was me. We were both a dead man, someone else entirely. I was wearing his skin. I was wearing his flesh. \"How many people does the state fucking murder? What did he do? What did he do? What do you do to keep the bodies flowing!\" \n\nAnd then the barbs pierced my skin and the current flowed through me and the body was someone else's entirely again, joints locking and muscles spasming outside of my control. And then the guards were on me, pinning my arms behind my back, holding me down. \n\n\"I'm very sorry,\" Jessen said, leaning down to face me. His face was flushed and his glasses were askew. \"This is a - this is a transitory problem, Mr. Keppler. Your brain is the same. But the glands, the hormones regulating emotion - they're unfamiliar to you, of course. But don't worry. This is outpatient surgery. A few adjustments to the glands, to your internal temperature, to better suit the, ah, climate your brain is used to -\" \n\n\"Don't!\" I shrieked, every part of my body retreating in terror, curling away from the men and their hands. \"You'll kill him! You'll kill him for good! You didn't need to kill someone for me! I didn't want this!\" My eyes were hot with tears. \"My god, I didn't want this!\" \n\n\"It's all right, Mr. Keppler,\" Jessen cooed, as the guards wrestled me back onto the bed, tightening straps onto my wrists. \"You're feeling irrational right now, this a symptom a certain percentage of brain transplant patients suffer, and I'm sorry I didn't adequately prepare you for the possibility -\" \n\n\"Please!\" I babbled, straining against the straps. Where is panic? Where is fear? Where is pity? Where is regret? Where is the will to live and to not have to watch anyone else die? Is it located solely in the brain? Can you find it in your gut, in your skin, prickling, in every nerve and fiber that makes up your functioning body? \"It's me! It's all me! There's no need to do this! There's no transitory period! It's me! I'm Carl Keppler! I'm all of it! You'll be lobotomizing me! You'll be killing another man for good!\" Where does a man on death row carry his fear, carry his regret, carry his rage at the system that killed him? Can you cut him open and extract it? What's left of him when you're done? \n\n\"This will be fine, Mr. Keppler,\" Jessen said, as the needle slid into my arm and I sank back onto the bed, body and mind dissolving and slipping into unconsciousness. \"Just wait. Just you wait. You'll be yourself in no time.\" "
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[WP] It's 2064, all cars have been fully automized. In order to be taken somewhere, you need to scan your Citizenship Card. This card includes race, gender, criminal record, and class. Only the top .01% can afford their own car, the rest are totally reliant on the cars owned by the corporations. | 10 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"*“You are unauthorised to access this vehicle”*\n\n*“You are unauthorised to access this vehicle”*\n\n*“You are unauthorised to access thi-“*\n\nThe rest of the announcement was drowned out by the sound of Alex’s loud groan of exasperation. He stormed over to the customer service desk of the car lot, waving his citizenship card into the bored gaze of the service rep. \n\n“Why won’t any of your cars take my card?”. He glared at the rep, which finally brought some life into her. She took his card off him, and scanned it into a machine similar to that of the ones attached to every car. His file popped up on a screen on the rep’s desk, displaying his ID photo and personal details. The rep looked at him and raised an eyebrow. \n\n“Alex Johnson, 22, Caucasian, lower class”. She continued to stare at him, disinterest in his situation clear in her flat resting face, before continuing in a noticeably slower tone. “So your class and relatively young age means you’re already eliminated from using these cars”. The screen changed, showing an impressive range of cars from sports cars to the much more pedestrian models he had been trying to access. \n\nAlex examined the girl. Sure, she was barely old enough to drive herself, which would have eliminated her from accessing the most high end cars, but the quality blonde dye job, the manicure and the new smartphone she kept glancing at while talking to him suggested she was at least on the high end of the middle classes, if not upper class. She’d never have to face the barrage of rejections and limitations just to get through the average day.\n\n“Hey, I’m still talking”. She clicked her fingers in his face. \n\n*“Who the fuck dragged you up?”*, he thought.\n\n“To make matters worse”, she continued, a smirk growing on her face, “You were arrested in the anti-corporation protests last month, according to your file, so you lose access to cars on these levels as well”. Looking at the screen again, she swiped at least three quarters of the remaining cars away. \n\n“Nice choices”. The smirk was still there. Were he to complain, it’d be him to suffer the consequences - at the rate he was going he’d be banned from accessing anything in the car database. \n\n“Look, I’ll just take whatever’s the nearest”. He’d long gotten used to the tone of resignation he spoke with whenever he wanted…well anything. \n\n“Whatever”. She handed him his citizenship card back, and pinged the location of a car he could actually use to his phone. \n\nTwenty minutes later, he still hadn’t found the car and was lost in the labyrinthine layout of the lower floors of the car depot, the location of the kinds of cars the elite, or even any self respecting middle class citizen would be caught dead in. \n\nEventually he found the car, nestled in a corner over a flickering fluorescent light. He scanned his citizenship card over the car’s scanner\n\n*“Access granted”*\n\nThe car spluttered into life - Alex had to scan his card at least four more times before it started properly. No surprise there though, he was long used to being a second class citizen. Would this car even survive the 12 hour journey across the state that he needed to do he wondered? He doubted this car would even survive the journey along the main highway, although given his status his citizenship card would definitely deny him access to the fastest road, forcing him on to the rural back roads and through heavy industry zones.\n\nOut of sight, out of mind, just like this car for the lower classes abandoned in the corner of the depot.\n\nSuddenly, he felt a sense of rage, rage that he hadn’t even felt at the anti-corporation protests which had led him to such a limited life. Life was never going to change, so long as the government and the major corporations continued their unswerving allegiance of one another. This was the last time.\n\nHe got into the car, and began to drive out of the depot. Driving slowly past the customer service desk, he watched the rep chew gum and flick through a magazine. She’d never had to understand the suffering of the common people. \n\nShe never would.\n\nA sharp U-turn as soon as he exited the depot, and he was accelerating towards the customer service desk. Finally, he could have something he wanted without a damn about the upper classes.\n\nThe rep looked bored even after she’d noticed the car.",
"Franks pulled out his ratty old Cit card and proceeded to scan it into the 2059 Corp 33. He was in a hurry, the police were on his tail, just around the corner. Under his arm was a folder containing a computer chip and a few documents he had just taken from Fuzion, the leader in automotive industries world wide.\n*Static* \"Please scan Cit card to start vehicle\"\nFrank slid his card back into the laser reader once more.\n*Static* \"please scan Cit card to start vehicle\"\n\"FUCK, this old piece of shit!\"\nFrank opened the door to the car, got out, and ran to the nearest alley and hid behind the dumpster and pulled out his phone. The phones screen was filled with numbers scrolling up the screen from the bottom, numbers that only a trained eye could read. Frank pulled up the keypad, typed in a few numbers and it started to ring... \"Shit, shit shit!\" Frank immediately turned the sound off, poked his head out from behind the dumpster looking for the police. The two armed officers were approaching the Corp 33 with their flashlights and handguns.\nHe then pulled out the computer chip from his envelope, clipped the adapter on the bottom of the chip into his bionic right arm. \nThe screen on his phone pulled up a window with a login screen that read, \"Welcome Frank Wilder, CEO - Fuzion\" Frank quickly typed in his password and began to pull up the employee list, clicked on Agatha, and it began to ring.\nAfter 2 rings he heard the phone answer, on the other end Frank heard breathing.\n\"Hello? Agatha?? Is that you?\" Frank said worriedly.\n\"Hello Mr Wilder\" The voice on the other end replied. It was not Agathas voice, but instead it was a mans. Agatha was not married or dating. Frank was confused.\n\"Who is this? Where is Agatha?\" asked Frank.\n\"The choices you've made, Mr Wilder, the decisions you implemented, have taken affect. Please turn yourself in.\"\n\"Fuck you!!\" Frank screamed.\n\nFrank turned off the phone, stood up, and looked at the Corp 33. The officers were sitting inside the car scanning the interior with their phones. \n\"Good luck with that\" Frank muttered. He put his phone into his pocket and unclipped the chip from his arm and placed it back into the envelope. He took one more look at the officers, they were still scanning the car. Frank bolted out from behind the dumpster and ran the opposite way out of the alley and headed for the shipping yard across the street. \n\nTo be continued. :D\n"
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[WP] You are an alien intelligence officer preparing to invade and infiltrate earth. You have been assigned one of the most important tasks, review the pictures of humans and their everyday lives. | 11 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"The memoirs in this book are and should be remained classified and should remain so until it reaches Dominus Q. Dominus will then decide what to do with it, until then, please refrain from reading this unless you are primus inspector Y.\n\nMy name is Yqri Djenof and I was born Kepler 22b aka KOI-087.01 and these are my memoirs, thoughts and beliefs that I've written before, during and after I infiltrated planet 0873215, aka Earth. Last warning before going into the text. If you are caught reading this without consent, it will endanger all Cepaxes and all Humans, including you. \n\n**20th of Enuj age 30 720 Note: Cepaxes, Dominus Q and Ferisha, please forgive me. We are doomed.**\n___________________________________________________\n**Day 1:** \n\n\"What will your name be on earth, Yqris?\" \n\nTo be honest, I didn't know what I name I should pick. I mean, what's the most normal name a human can have? Especially in a place like 51.5074° N, 0.1278° W, which is also known as London? All I knew at that time was that I would miss Ferisha. Even now, as I'm writing this, great agony is filling my body, my spirit, my soul. But I'm doing this for me, for us and for the great Dominus Q.\n\n\"Yqris, I said what will your name be once you've infiltrated Earth?\" \n\n\"Muhammed, darling, Muhammed,\" I answered. \n\nSafe to say that it ended on that note, as she knew that Muhammad would raise some issues, especially with the recent tensions on Earth. \n\nWhat a horrible way to say farewell. \n\n\n___\n**Day 2:** \n\nAlright, now I look like a normal human. At least according to the Pioneer Plaque that we found 16 cycles ago. I'm being shipped the first thing in the morning and will land on 50 earth kilometres from 51.5074° N, 0.1278° W. \n\n___\n**Day 5:**\n\nFirst day of *actual* work today. Nothing interesting happened. Ferisha's questioning made sense because a customer left and spat on the floor. I do not understand this hatred between humans. Do they not have any sort of leader that binds them together, as Q does for us? **Will update on this as time proceeds.**\n\nThe head of the job hates me. He keeps telling me that taking a driver's license photo is an art and not a day job to support yourself. Whatever, my leaders ensured that I will have live comfortable as I stayed here. \n\n___\n**Day 6:** \n\nA message was sent by inspector Wraq earlier today saying that I should invite my neighbors for a dinner party, to study how they communicate and also report if we have missed strengths or weaknesses that Humans may have. I'll stay awake all night to track down what times my neighbors leave their homes.\n\nAlso, I found out who the leader for the most powerful and advanced nations on Earth is named: Trump, Donald Trump. He seemed smart and as I was saying that partnering with the most powerful nation in the East would help Earth. Perhaps he is man kind's version of Dominus Q? \n\n\n**More updates will follow**\n\n___\n**Day 7**\n\nToday, I am going to invite every neighbor and co-worker to a barbecue this Friday. Hopefully, they'll come. \n\n___\n\n**Day 9.**\n\nOnly 4 out of my 15 neighbors are coming for tomorrow's barbecue. I haven't had the time to be write down anything as I have been tracking what time everyone leaves for work. The others said that they will be busy, but it seems that they are lying. Perhaps it is an inconvenience and time is precious for mankind? It also seems like there's this great level of egocentric beliefs that are present in this society. Is it a human thing? Or culture? **More updates will follow and tomorrow will be an interesting day**\n\n___\n**Day 10** \n\nWraq was sent just sent a message right now about the incident and I'll write as soon as I can, because at this point I will get murdered, or all my guests will be eliminated. \n\n\n___\n___\n\nIf you have any feedback or wish that I should write a part 2 please tell me in the comments!\n\nIf you like this story, interact with me on twitter @Jadolicious! I am active daily. \n\n",
"\"Riker personal log star date 94641.57. Command keeps telling me that looking thought these pictures is key to use winning the coming battle with the humans. At first I thought the same thing. Knowing what someone does in their everyday life. Knowing how they act can and does help make any battle shorter and cost fewer lives on both sides. I just can't help but think that they know this is all bullshit and this is just punishment after what happened last week. I didn't mean to...I mean I did, but it wasn't suppose to end with the captain losing all of his fur. It was just suppose to turn his fur neon orange. I mean how is review some one taking fifty pictures of themselves in the bathroom mirror suppose to help us? Besides telling us to never stop at the truck stop she went to, because of how dirty it is. End Log\" \n\nA few more minutes passed as Riker continued to look over the pictures that was gathered. Someone knocked on his door. With a stern voice he said, \"Enter.\" \n\nA man with fur still growing back entered the room, but still looking rather pinkish. Riker immediately stood up and put his right paw to his head. With a voice that could be heard anywhere on the ship, he took a death breath and asked, \"Do you know why you are here?\"\n\nA few seconds pasted and the caption repeated himself this time more forcefully, \"DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU ARE HERE?!\" \n\nThis time Riker replied almost immediately, \"I don't understand sir? I was assigned to this ship by admiral Dew la...\" \n\nRiker was interrupted with the caption bellowing voice easily over powering his \"Not what I mean! I mean do you know why you are here in this room instead of in the brig?\"\n\n\"Because someone has to look over the picture to find the weak spot in the humans defaces.\" Saying the first thing that came to his mind. \n\n\"You kidding? I could have anyone on this ship do that, I could even have you do that from the brig.\" The captains voice still vibrating this walls and deck platting. But is wasn't like it use to be hard, abrupt, and demanding. Just a bit softer, a bit warmer. \"I was young once. I did stupid things. You should have seen the prank we pulled on our captain on his anniversary running his ship. We managed to turn his tongue and lips bright green. But you really should not have used a chemical that was that harsh. If it didn't give me second degree burns everything would have been alright. Now I believe you have a report for me\""
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1,
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2
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"1484431207",
"1484439207",
"1484440819"
] | |
[WP] Every night for as long as you can remember, rain or shine, old man Klein sits there in his chair with a blanket and baseball bat next to three solid gold bars just out reach from the sidewalk | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"Jack! Come over here god damn it...\"\n\nThe sun was setting and I gave in to his cajoling. Old Man Klein was preparing for his nightly ritual of sitting in his Jazzy Sport 2, motorized wheel chair--the kind you see the obese and elderly riding around WalMart--at the edge of the walkway leading up to his house with an American flag blanket on his lap and a Louisville Slugger in his hands while three gold bars nested against the left wheel. I opened my gate and walked to the corner of his yard, stopping a few feet from his chair.\n\n\"Jack. Did you see 'em?\"\n\n\"See what?\"\n\n\"Them... The lurkers.\" He pointed vaguely in the direction of other houses on our block.\n\n\"What? Lurkers? What are you talking about?\" I attempted a skeptical face.\n\n\"Jack. You see these Gold Bars?\"\n\n\"Yes I see the bars.\"\n\n\"They're solid twenty four karat gold bars. The real god damn deal.\"\n\n\"Yeah, you've told me before.\"\n\n\"Did you ever wonder how a guy like me, ended up with three--\" he held up three fingers for emphasis, \"--solid twenty four karat gold bars?\"\n\nI had wondered about the bars, but my Canadian social conditioning had deterred me from asking about something which was none of my business. And Old Man Klein was clearly insane at a level at which nothing he said could be legitimately trusted.\n\n\"You see, my legs used to work just fine. I enlisted as a sorry ass private when they were in their prime. 1957. Or maybe it was 1948. They sent me to guard a place called Fort Knox. Fort god damn Knox. Did everything my officers asked me to like a blind billy goat, full of faith in 'the system' and 'the meritocracy,' knowing one day I'd get out of that boring hell hole and see some real genuine action.\" Klein gestured like a disenchanted philosopher.\n\n\"But all those dreams came to a god damn end.\" He paused. \"Ran the obstacle course too many times and on the last run my grip slipped on the ropes and I fell right on to my spine. Lost all control of my legs.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Sorry? Son, they gave me this god damn wheel chair. That's it. And I was honorably discharged. Told me I would be moved out in two weeks.\"\n\n\"You must have felt pretty discouraged. Sucks.\"\n\n\"I was in denial Jack. I argued with them at first. I thought I could still battle--with my chair. Maybe add a few custom features to handle terrain. Thought I would make a top tier support machine gunner. But they didn't have room for a wheelchair bound soldier in their ranks. I wasn't worth anything.\" His hand tremored on the remote of his chair. \"You see, that's when I began planning. Planning my revenge.\""
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1,
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"1484435908",
"1484446580"
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[WP] Write a story that starts as a TIFU post and then turns into a nosleep post | 10 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"This actually happened a few days ago. I was browsing in the pawn shop near mine and my SO’s apartment. This adorable doll caught my attention. I’m not too familiar with antique dolls, but the owner of the place described it as French Fashion, whatever that was. The doll was being held up from behind by a stand, and she was wearing a flowery dress that seemed early 2000’s. Looking back on it now, I’m not sure why it occurred to me that I should buy it as a gift for my SO, but at the time it made perfect sense. The owner asked only 60 bucks for it, which sounded like quite the deal for a doll from the 19th century. \n\nMy SO was home when I walked in, she had just finished trying on a new dress that she had picked up from Anthropology that day, she described it as a scarlet caftan, and was offering to put it back on for me ;) but I decided to surprise her with the doll first. This was where it went downhill. Apparently, she has a very bad phobia of dolls that developed when she was younger and visiting her grandma’s house, which was filled with creepy dolls. She only explained this after screaming and bolting out of the apartment. Setting the doll down I quickly followed her. I ended up having to drive her to her parents, because she wouldn’t calm down. She ended up wanting to stay the night. \n\nWhen I got back to the apartment, someone had walked in and stolen the doll and the dress! They were both gone. Only the stand remained, thrown on the ground. This was entirely my fault, because in the panic I had forgotten to lock the door. I didn’t want to let my SO know right away, as that would not help her emotional stability at the moment. I checked the apartment for any other missing things, or signs of intrusion, but luckily they hadn’t stolen our PS4 or anything else. I didn’t think it was worth it to report it to the police as it was only a couple items.\nThat night when I was lying in bed I thought I heard some giggling, but when I got up to see if there was anyone outside, I couldn’t see anyone. The next night, my girlfriend came back, and she was not happy about the dress. Halfway through the night she woke me up in hysterics, ended up having to drive her to her parents again, and now she won’t come back into our place. She keeps talking about the doll watching us sleep, and wearing her dress. I’m not really sure what she is talking about, I’ve slept fine the past few nights. If she doesn’t change her mind, I guess we’re going to be looking for a new place soon, which means we’ll have to pay our way out of the lease. It’s all been a very frustrating experience. \n\nTLDR: Ask your SO about his or her phobias before buying them gifts or you might have to break your lease.\n",
"Obligatory this didn't actually happen today. My FU happened last week. I was out for a run around my neighborhood and it was SO icy out. Probably should have turned back, but I'm training for a half and need to get the milage in. Anyway, I was about two miles into my run and decided to cut through the cemetery instead of looping all the way around it. This is where it started going downhill. \n\nAs I was running along the path, I noticed a group of people dressed in all black and holding candles. My first thought was a candlelight vigil, but I've always been a super curious person so I decided to run a little closer to it. The wind was really blowing hard and made it tough to hear anything, but as I approached I noticed that the group was chanting in unison. \n\nAll of them were gathered in a circle, and they were clearly focusing on something in the middle. When I was about thirty yards away or so, I got a terrible feeling in my stomach and knew something wasn't right. Like a pack of hungry dogs all of them stopped chanting and darted their heads towards me. These people were straight up staring at me, no doubt about it. \n\nWhat's worse, even though I knew something awful was happening, I couldn't turn back around. My legs just kept moving closer to them. I got within maybe 10 yards and could see what they were circled around.\n\nIt was a hand-sewn doll with my freaking face on it! I was still drifting towards them and the chanting had not only started up again, but was getting louder. Finally my feet dug in and I was able to jump backwards. I fell pretty hard and banged up my hip and knees, but I was able to get to my feet and get out of there.\n\nPretty much no one believes me, and the ones that do all keep telling me the doll didn't have my face. They say I was just scared and imagined the worst. It made me feel a little better, but every night since then I swear I can hear the chants floating on the wind outside my room. \n\nWhen I looked out the window tonight, I could see candlelights bobbing up and down in the woods behind my house. My parents are out of town this weekend, and I have all the doors and windows locked, but I'm terrified they're going to come for me!\n\nTLDR: Cut through a cemetery and interrupted some freaky cult that created a doll in my likeness. Now they're outside."
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1,
3,
7
] | [
"1484453945",
"1484460668",
"1484457062"
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[WP] The Devil goes down to Georgia looking for a soul to steal. He challenges Johnny to a fiddle duel, but he has accidentally challenged Jimmy, Johnny's cousin who has no idea how to use a fiddle. | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"The devil jumped\nUp on a hickory stump\nAnd said, \"boy, let me tell you what\nI guess you didn't know it \nBut I'm a fiddle player too \nAnd if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you\nNow you play a pretty good fiddle, boy\nBut give the devil his due\nI'll bet a fiddle of gold\nAgainst your soul\n'Cause I think I'm better than you.\"\n\nJimmy: No im good \n\n(the devil walks away) "
] | [
1,
2
] | [
"1484460704",
"1484479257"
] | |
[WP] You have always been able to see how long other people have to live. You are invited to a huge party, and after becoming drunk, you notice that everyone around you only has 15 minutes left. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"** First time poster, Sorry for the length, got carried away. Hope you like it**\n\nIts happened for as long as I can remember. Whenever I concentrate on someone I can see a number, normally unique to them, other times a couple would share a number. It took me a long time to work out what this meant. I had been able to see this since I was a child and finally when I was a teenager I had realised what it was, the amount of time they had left until their death. \n\nWhen I realised this, I became obsessed. Constantly checking everyone's number, trying to work out what would cause their time to be so long or so short. I had on occasion managed to change peoples numbers. I remember helping my dad through quitting smoking. It was not long after I realised what the numbers meant that I relised it was probably the reason my Dads number was so low. I had spent months supporting him a convincing him to finally give up. When he did his number started to rise, I had never been so happy to have the gift. Although I had never told a single person about this, I felt it was an important part of me. \n\nOnly twice had I ever seen someone with a number less than a day. I remember both of them as if it was yesterday. The first time I saw a low number was while I was waiting for the train to work. Often I would look around and check peoples numbers when I was bored. However that morning was one time I will never forget, I was standing there checking peoples numbers when I saw a man standing alone on the station, staring at his shoes, with a number of 3 minutes. I froze, this was the lowest I had ever seen, this was basically now. I didn’t know what to do. I just turned and ran off the station, I don’t know why but I had to get out. As I was leaving I heard it. The train arriving and the thud and the screams, and I knew he had jumped. \n\nThe other time was a lot nicer. It was only a few weeks ago when I was walking along the street, again checking numbers, when I saw a middle aged lady walking towards me with a time of 10hrs. All the memories of last time came back to me, however this time I didn’t freeze. As she got closer I looked at her and smiled, and said \"I love that dress, really suits you, you look nice\". She looked a bit surprised but smiled. As she walked past, I looked back and checked her number again, 4 years. \n\nToday was my brothers 30th birthday BBQ. I hadn’t looking forward to it. They always seem to get a bit rowdy after drinking, which is quite often. I had planned to leave early, hoping to avoid most of the drama. As I sat there listening to my mother talk about how I never get to see her enough and that I was too busy with work to spend time with her I was planning my escape, what excuse could I use this time? I had already had a few too many to drink so was planning on catching an Uber home. As she was talking to me I could hear my Dad and my brother arguing with the neighbor about the noise. This was normal at gatherings, he hated how often and how loud my family gatherings were, constantly sticking his head over the fence to complain about the noise and amount of people. He had never been nice, always preferring to keep to himself, we would only see him when he wanted to complain. \n\nAs they were arguing, I stared at my brother, and checked his number like I often do, out of habit really. 15 mins. My heart dropped. I panicked, I checked my Dads, 15 mins. Mums, 15 mins. Everywhere I looked, everyone I checked as 15 mins. How did this happen, I had checked mums only an hour ago and she was 26 years. There had to be a reason for the sudden drop in everyones numbers, and I had to be able to do something. Then I realised, I checked the neighbors number, 32 years. He was the only one who survived. He must be the reason, maybe we had pushed him too far. This was obviously the last straw. \n\nWhat could I do, how could I stop him, I mean I didn’t even know how it would happen. I ran to dad screaming to stop arguing, but he had had a few too many to be reasonable at that point. I pleaded, and begged him to stop arguing and come inside. I think he saw the panic in my eyes and stopped. Asking what was wrong as we walked inside. I didn’t know what to say. I could hardly tell him the truth, there wasn’t enough time to expain it. 9 minutes. That was all I had. As I was yelling everyone was looking and started coming over, gathering around me. What could I do. There wasn’t enough time to get everyone to leave. There was too many people. Only 8 minutes. Think.... Think.... What could I possibly do to stop this. I had to do something. This is my family. 7 minutes. \n\nEveryone was together now, gathered on the patio muttering and asking eachother what was wrong with me. They were all trying to comfort me, even though they didn’t know why. 5 minutes. Then I had an idea, but I had to act fast. He hated us, we hadn't been the best neighbors to him, always loud and fairly disrespectful and he had had enough now. So I had an idea of what might stop him. 3 minutes. I told everyone I needed some space, I needed to walk and I slipped out the front and went straight next door. I knocked on his door and was surprised when he answered so quick. I stuttered a few times but managed to get out what I wanted to say. I told him I was sorry for the noise today and all the other times, I told him this was the last time, that we are selling the house and this was our final goodbye to our family home. I told him that this was it. He didn’t need to worry again. He didn’t respond. He just started and then turned and walked away. As he turned, I saw it. Behind his back. The biggest gun I have ever seen. It sent chills down my entire body. \n\nI ran back home and saw mum first. I checked as quick as I could. 26 years. It worked. I had done it. ",
"I've never been able to quite explain how I can see how long people will live, it shows up above their heads. For many years of my life I was called insane for telling people, so I stopped. Eventually everyone kind of forgot about it. During college I became friends with the popular kids and I after about a year I was invited to the biggest party of the year about 200 people showed up and we all drank like there was no tomorrow. After I had downed about 6 beers I looked around and noticed that everyone around me had 15 minutes left to live, I naturally assumed It was the same for me. So in my drunken state I started running, on my way out I bumped into some exposed pipe and I guess it was loose, because it broke. I was running for what seemed like 15 minutes and I suddenly heard a deafening boom from behind me. The house I was in minutes ago had exploded in a giant fiery ball. \n\n\n\nNote: So this is my first WP, I decided to just see if I could do well.\nConstructive Criticism and Tips are appreciated "
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1,
1,
2
] | [
"1484511453",
"1484525615",
"1484512366"
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[WP] The EULA for a gun. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"YOU AGREE TO BE BOUND BY THE FOLLOWING TERMS AND CONDITIONS BY RELEASING THE SAFETY, LOADING THE WEAPON, AND/OR ENGAGING THE FIRING APPARATUS IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO PULLING THE TRIGGER. IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO BE BOUND BY THESE TERMS AND CONDITIONS, PLACE THE FIREARM IN A SAFE LOCATION AND **DO NOT** DO ANY OF THE PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED ACTIVITIES.\n\n1. Acceptance of these terms grants you the right to use the firearm in any manner you deem appropriate, requiring that it is within reason and not forbidden by any federal, state, or local regulations/laws. \n\n2. Acceptance of these terms requires you to agree that you will **not** reverse engineer, redistribute, or commit any other act that is in violation of GunInTheSun Inc's sole copyright. You are also forbidden from having a large penis or active sex life if you own more than two of our products over .45 CAL and/or a magazine larger than 15 rounds.\n\n3. As the rightful owner of a GunInTheSun Inc firearm, you are required to have an, at minimum, mild distaste for multiple races, including but not limited to, Arabs, Blacks, Chinks, Towel-Heads, etc. You are also required to own a Ford F-150 or higher, or other manufacturer equivalent, modified to be able to roll coal at a red light in a crowded city.\n\n4. In the event of your friend and family's disapproval, hatred from other ethnic groups, or other ill-effect, GunInTheSun Inc cannot be held liable if the firearm was sold in proper working order."
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1,
1
] | [
"1484527888",
"1484535115"
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[removed] | [WP] When people die they are judged by the souls of their parents. You're an orphan, you don't know your parents and you just killed yourself to finally meet them | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nWe feel that asking users to write about suicide is harmful. It can be hard to tell if someone's writing fiction or making a cry for help. In the event there's any truth behind this for you or someone you know, we recommend checking out /r/suicidewatch or /r/depression. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5o9fxg/wp_when_people_die_they_are_judged_by_the_souls/%0A%0A)",
"\"What if my parents are still alive? How does that work?\" Joanas questions. I never know how to answer for I don't really know. \n\nI smile reassuringly, you can't let children feel confused, \"well I'm sure they work something out up there. Perhaps they borrow the soul for a second and then return them back.\"\n\n\"Dad, how will my judgement go?\" his little seven year old old reacts out towards me for a hug, a carry him on my waist and tickle his armpit as he giggles, precious laugher is something I never got a chance to hear much in my laugh.\n\n\"Well I guess you don't eat nearly as many vegetables as I would like and eat way too much junk food, so I guess a six,\" his face frowns as I let out a little laugh.\n\n\"Dad what do you think your grandma and grandpa will give you?\" my smile slips as I let out a sigh. To be honest I hate talking about these things, but I try my best to give off a happy place because curiosity killed the cat. The more I try to hide the higher the chance of him finding it out in alternative means.\n\n\"I'm not too sure. I don't really know them,\" I say. Joanas senses that the conversation is touching a deep spot and kicks his leg to be put down.\n\n\"But I'm sure they think you're great!\" he smiles, \"when will you be coming home?\"\n\n\"Next week Joanas, daddy needs to settle a deal with the bank in Montreal and then I'll come back to give you cuddles. Now you be a good boy okay?\" I smile as he gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek, \"remember to call Will, he may be in high school but I'm sure that he will appreciate your phone calls.\"\n\n***\n\nI take another look at the cliff. The road gets slippery in winter and if I make it look like I hadn't turned fast enough and crashed to my death. I take out my notebook. House Paid Off. Check. No More Debt. Check. Enough Money for College for Will and Joanas. Check. Life Insurance. Check. Funeral Insurance. Check. Will Completed. Check. \n\nI get into my check and turn on the engine. It still isn't too late to turn around. No. I've waited too long. First I held it back because Jen became pregnant. Then because Will was too young. Then it was the birth of Joanas. Then it was because I didn't have money. I've waited for two decades. I'm too tired. It will be great that I'm gone, the children will get the full million payout from the insurance, have the funeral paid completely and don't have to worry any more. If I keep waiting, Will will have to pay inheritance tax. I close my eyes as I push the accelerator. Good bye everyone.\n\n***\n\n\"He has your eyes,\" the voice of a woman spoke. I open my eyes to face the voice. \n\n\"You're awake!\" the man excitedly smiles as he grabs the hand of the woman. My head throbs as I try to get up from my lying down position, \"you turned out really well David, I couldn't have asked for a better son.\"\n\n\"How -\" my eyes focus as I stare at the couple, \"mum? dad?\" I leap up to hug them, something that I've always wanted to do.\n\n\"David, how could you?\" a tear wells up in the eyes of my mother, \"we would have never let you go if we knew that you would take your life just to see us,\" she turns away unable to face me any longer.\n\n\"I don't care,\" I cry, \"do you know how long I've wait to see you?\"\n\n\"We know, we saw, we understand,\" dad hugs me tighter, \"we're sorry, can you forgive us.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know that you probably had a good reason,\" I can't get angry at that!\"\n\nDad clicks his finger as a set of table and chairs appears. He walks over to beacons me to come along, \"you see,\" he began as a set of champagne glasses appears with other click, \"you mother had you out of wedlock and back then that was socially unacceptable, so you mother and I were separated.\"\n\n\"After a while I get a letter saying that you died -\" mum added and I take a drink.\n\n\"We reunited up here after that and then found that you were alive all along. You documents were burned and then the wrong informations was put in your file,\" dad said as he fills my champagne. I stay quiet and let the silence fill the air. \n\n\"What will my judgement be?\" I finally whisper as I look up at the people who I've wanted to see my whole life. They look just like me, if not better. They look at each other and smile back at me. \n\n\"We're not going to give you a judgement because it isn't your time to leave,\" they smile. \n\nBefore I get a chance to voice my thoughts, dad buts in, \"we had a little chat with death because we know that you only died because of us -\"\n\n\"Plus it would unfair for your children,\" mum adds. They are like salt and pepper always complimenting each other. I stare down at the glass. I have been selfish. I may have given them all the money could ask of on inheritance but I've robbed them of a father to guide them in their life. I've robbed them of a grandpa for their children and I've robbed my family of a family.\n\n\"Imagine how Joanas feels right now,\" dad questions as I stay silent. I haven't thought all the consequences though. I was eager to die that I forgot to live. I forgot to actually be a father, he continues, \"it was fate that we never to hold you but you children will fill that hole in your heart.\"\n\n\"You're right,\" I finally say, \"I'll see you guys in another forty years, when the time is right,\" dad and mum click their glasses onto mine as I open my eyes again. This time concerned doctors and nurses with their talking fill the air as I feel a zapping pain throughout my body. I muster all my energy to lift up my hand to reach my head but can't. Over the buzzing sounds I hear them say that I was lucky to be alive and that the car was held back by the railing of the cliff. I breath out heavily and give my tiredness and fall into my sleep.\n"
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1,
1,
1
] | [
"1484550280",
"1484550646",
"1484553243"
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[removed] | [WP] Your at work in your boring office job in the city just trying to climb the corporate ladder just like every other clone in your division when suddenly your left hand starts vibrating you flip it and you see a metal ring in your palm it glows and a hologram of your superior appears and says. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nResponses must be at least 30 words. Prompts that are likely to generate such responses are also not allowed. This is essentially a fill-in-the-blank, or you asked a question likely to generate a simple answer. Prompts should encourage a story or poem. \n\nIf you were to repost without the last two words then it'd be fine. It doesn't help that you gave a simple response yourself, I think that's what most people will give with it in this format. \n\nThanks! \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5obasb/wp_your_at_work_in_your_boring_office_job_in_the/%0A%0A)"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1484579479",
"1484579490"
] |
[WP] Neighbors move in. Strangely, their locks are on the outside of the door and the windows are barred. | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Why do people put locks on the inside of their doors? Well it's simple, isn't it? If the locks are on the inside then once it is locked, nobody can unlock them from outside, it protects you against the world. So, if we accept this as true, what is the good of a lock on the outside of the door? Could it maybe be the opposite? If the purpose of a lock on the inside is to keep something outside from getting inside, then is the purpose of a lock on the outside to keep something inside from getting outside? \n\nAt first, I didn't notice it, the moving van pulling up across the street from me was just the sign that the new family had arrived. The moving van itself was a pretty standard affair, white with the logo of whatever company owned it and undoubtedly mostly filled with junk that the family 'couldn't bear to part with'. Only a few minutes later, another van pulled up behind the first one and was followed by a small black car. From the dark confines of my home, this new car intrigued me because the people inside were not the kind of people I expected to see moving into the area. The front doors opened and two men stepped out, one of them slightly taller than the other and both of them wearing dark suits. \n\nThe two men talked for a second before opening the door and stepping into the shadows of the house. A couple of minutes later, another car pulled up behind the first and three more men and a woman stepped out. The woman seemed to be wearing handcuffs of some sort and, upon a bit more inspection, I realised that the men very definitely had guns holstered by their sides. One of them went to the trunk of the car and picked out two large plastic bags before disappearing into the shadows along with the other two. It was a half an hour before the men emerged as one group without the woman. After talking for a minute or two, they seemed to shake hands and then drove off. \n\nOver the next few weeks, I watched the house closely when I could and during that time the only people I ever saw entering and leaving were more of these men in black, carrying plastic bags into the house, presumably dropping them off and then leaving. Even the moving vans were driven and filled with more of these men. People passed by the house and seemed to take no notice of the strange events that had occurred, nor did they take any notice of the house itself or the permanently dark windows. Even when I asked people about the house, they seemed to simply give me non-answers or dodge the question. \n\nIt was about 3 or 4 weeks later that I noticed something new one day while leaving my house. It wasn't until a second glance that I noticed something, the door was ajar and for a minute I was left stood there gazing at the small crack of blinding darkness inside. At that moment I should have left it alone, I hadn't seen anyone enter or leave today and, given what I had seen, there was no reason to suspect that anything good would come of it. Yet, for whatever reason, it felt as if something was calling me, something was reaching out and pulling me in. Mindlessly, I stepped out away from my door and began crossing the road, not paying any attention to anything other than that slight sliver of darkness coming from within. \n\nApproaching the door I noticed with interest that the door didn't have a lock like others, instead, it was locked from the outside rather than the inside. Almost as if someone wanted to keep something in. Yet I didn't seem to mind, all I was thinking about was the door and the darkness beyond it and the person inside. Slowly, I pushed the door open, the light from outside spreading and illuminating more of the blank hallway inside. \n\n'Hello?' I called, not really expecting an answer.\n\nSilence. \n\nAfter a minute of waiting, listening to the deafening silence, I stepped over the precipice and entered the shadows gently closing the door behind me. Somewhere in my head, I could hear a voice screaming at me, railing against the madness that had possessed me and pleading for me to turn back before it was too late. But, unbeknownst to both it and I, the moment of no return had long passed and my body couldn't... wouldn't stop now. The hallway twisted and turned before me as I crept down it, slowly and steadily approaching the door at the end. \n\n'Hello' She responded, her voice smooth and silky from down at the end of the door. 'Come on in. Come see me.'\n\nSomething was very wrong.\n\n'I'm right here'\n\nI couldn't quite place my finger on it.\n\n'They've been keeping me here.'\n\nWhat was it? \n\n'I'm so lonely.'\n\nMy mind voice screaming at me to stop. I ignored it.\n\n'Help me'\n\nHer voice seemed to drop to something more childish, more like she was pleading with me.\n\nThat was it! Her voice, it sounded... wrong... like someone who didn't quite understand human speech. It seemed awkward and the pronunciation was wrong.\n\nI needed to stop.\n\nI couldn't stop.\n\nI wouldn't stop, her voice seemed so... sweet... so wrong and distorted and yet...\n\n'Sweet. Like the honey on a trap'\n\nI reached out for the door.\n\n'So close now.'\n\nThe door opened, the trap swung shut and I was consumed, never to be seen again. Nobody noticed. \n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nNote from the Author: Well... that was interesting. I don't even know where that went towards the end. \n\n"
] | [
1,
2
] | [
"1484590688",
"1484602967"
] | |
[removed] | [WP] An SJW gets transported back to times of slavery | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nThe mods reserve the right to remove anything we feel is harmful to the community. This includes, but is not limited to any forms of hate speech, racism, politics, necrophilia, pedophilia, bestiality, incest, rape, or suicide. We will not tolerate it. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5ofdiy/wp_an_sjw_gets_transported_back_to_times_of/%0A%0A)"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1484620376",
"1484620834"
] |
[removed] | [WP] Everybody gets a notification on their phones when they meet their true love. | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nYour post includes too many details to be considered a prompt. It has become a story commission, which is not allowed. Prompts are meant to inspire users to write their own work, not write something for you. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5ojpca/wp_everybody_gets_a_notification_on_their_phones/%0A%0A)"
] | [
1,
1
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"1484677236",
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Humans that decided to be frozen may wake up to find themselves in a future where they are a collectible. Are they rare based off the year of freezing? Age? Race? Rich poor? Do aliens keep them frozen? Have them as pets? Made to fight in Frozenman Battles? | [WP]Humans that chose cryogenic slumber are prized by aliens that view them as a rare collectible. | 37 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"I never asked to be frozen. My mother was always a bit quirky and I guess my accident was more than she could handle. That's the last thing I remembered, the semi racing towards me. The headlights bathed everything in too bright light and then everything went quiet. \n\nI don't know how long I lay frozen and dreaming. I don't know when humanity died out, or why. I don't know when the aliens landed. I don't know when their fad for human media swept their culture but it hit hard. \n\nThe aliens listen to our music and tv shows, heck they even watch our porn. Real earth relics are in the highest demand. Alien children watch Disney movies and collect earth toys. Re-re-runs of Friends and Seinfeld play on screens in every home. A real earth burger and fries or pizza is a favorite meal. They've rebuilt replicas of our bowling alleys and ice cream shops. Earth fashion is displayed in every shop window.\n\nI first awoke confused and disoriented. I couldn't move but I could see, hear and feel. Paralyzed. That was my first coherent thought. The semi. The lights. My eyes swept back and forth looking for doctors, nurses, something familiar. That's when I realized I wasn't laying in a bed, but upright. I was surrounded by cardboard, with a little plastic window I could see out of. My limbs were hooked into the cardboard, holding me upright. \n\nSomething horrible appeared in the window. It was looking right at me. It spoke but I couldn't understand the language. I panicked. My breaths came in short desperate gasps but I couldn't move my arms or legs. I had to be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Maybe I had brain damage from the accident. The face disappeared from view. \n\nTime lost all meaning. Sometimes there were lights, sometimes it was dark but no one fed me or came to check on me at all. I was resigned to die. In fact, that's what I decided this was, a nightmare of vivid intensity as the last flashes of my brain sputtered and went out. Of course, I was wrong.\n\nAnother horrible, unknowable and completely alien face looked in through the plastic window. Suddenly I was being lifted down and carried. I was placed on some kind of table. Dread filled my heart as I listened to the voices talking above me. Then I was heated up and carried away. I got one single glimpse of the building I was in and it filled me with horror. \n\nRows and rows and rows of cardboard boxes lined up in displays. Each cardboard box had a little plastic window with a human face peering through. The trapped, haunted eyes live in my nightmares to this day. \n\nI was taken to this thing's home. Many things were utterly foreign and unrecognizable to me, yet interspersed with regular, every day items I was familiar with. There was a Mickey Mouse clock on the wall. Bruce Springsteen played from hidden speakers. A bowl of fruit was on a counter. A lava lamp held pride of place on a mantle. \n\nI've been here for weeks now with no chance of escape. The alien mania for human artifacts adds a level of the banal and prosaic to the horror of my current existence. I have quite the wardrobe, I'd never have been able to afford it in my previous life. I'm propped up on the couch to watch tv every day while the owner is away. I see the ads constantly. The most prized artifact is the Real Earth Sex Doll."
] | [
1,
6
] | [
"1484759083",
"1484770132"
] |
[removed] | [WP] a prompt based off my life (prompt is in the post) | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nYour post includes too many details to be considered a prompt. It has become a story commission, which is not allowed. Prompts are meant to inspire users to write their own work, not write something for you. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5oqtbz/wp_a_prompt_based_off_my_life_prompt_is_in_the/%0A%0A)"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1484761580",
"1484762885"
] |
[WP]After death, you discover that the afterlife is a sprawling utopia. As a form of punishment, they send people back to the world of the living. | 79 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"Why the fuck would you want to head back out there?\"\n\nI resisted the urge to shrug. Instead, I chugged down another beer. \n\nBeside us, a couple was making out with a passion that was probably more suited for hell. They were as tall as each other, with perfectly toned bodies. As far as any onlooker could tell while their faces sought to melt into each other's, either man was as handsome as the other. \n\nWomen were casting gazes over their way. The couple was definitely getting the attention they sought. \n\nI felt uncomfortable being beside them, with gazes sweeping past me, returning briefly, then satisfyingly pass me by a second time. I had not expected to miss being uncomfortable. \n\n\"Do you feel uncomfortable?\" I whispered to Chris and his brows were pinched in bewilderment. \n\n\"No, I want to join them.\" He finished the remnants of his mug, stood up, strode over and plonked himself down on a front row seat. \n\nA dozen women, inundated by the fear of missing out, followed Chris's example. I was now more amazed with their unparalleled focus than I was with the public display. \n\nI bade Chris farewell, which he acknowledged absent-mindedly. \n\nOutside, a five-thousand strong crowd had assembled to paint. They were silent and their hands were nimble. As I watched them, wondering where to head to, some of them watched me in return. \n\nI wove amidst them to see what they were making. There were many canvases of blue and rolling clouds. Others were absorbed with capturing the throbbing township. A few of them waved me over to show me their impression of me, stumbling out from the bar into the light. They were being polite. In response, I conjured a smile and nodded, so that they could move on to their next blank canvas. \n\nI headed to the windy alleys with harsh corners and hardly any light. There was unbridled laughter from a man who stood wide and victorious over a heap of a man. \n\nAnd then the victorious man vanished. Undoubtedly, he was returned to Earth for decades of unfulfilling life. \n\nThe fallen man roused from the floor. For a moment he cupped his bleeding head, his expression was a grimace. And then he paused. He lifted his hand from the back of his head and stared at his palm. No blood. He paid me no heed as he strode away. \n\n\"Sir,\" my voice shook. \"Could you take one more bashing today?\"\n\nHe whirled around and his expression mirrored Chris's. Had I made a mistake? Was he in an actual scuffle rather than living out his way of afterlife?\n\n\"You guys really find it *that* hard to believe that I *want* this?\" He asked. He reached out a hand and I shook it. \n\n\"I want to return to life,\" I whispered like the words were not meant for him. It sounded strange, like I could not stick to it if the idea was more tangible. \n\n\"Suit yourself man. And don't get me wrong, I don't enjoy pain. I just want to purge guys like you who don't deserve this utopia.\" He said it more inoffensively than I thought possible, with outstretched hands and open palms in an inviting gesture. \n\nI shook all hesitation and obliged. \n\n---\n\nSubscribe to flash fiction on [Fivens](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com/2017/01/12/float/)\n "
] | [
1,
16
] | [
"1484780589",
"1484786190"
] | |
[WP] you go to the shop for cigarettes, and return to find your wife has remarried, and your son and daughter have aged ten years. | 839 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"I really didn't care what anyone thought. I'd been too long without a smoke and it was time to fall off the cancerstick wagon.\nCigarettes are banned on Black Rock so I had to go all the way to St Petersburg but that was ok because Jimmy was doing a transport run there in *Betty* and he said I could get a job as Radengineer in his boat since the other guy was quitting.\n\n*Betty* is fine, faster than most, but even Jimmy admits she cant defy the laws of physics. Two weeks it took for the round trip, my lungs complaining all the way back and my brain loving every second of it. I even timed it perfect, the last butt being extinguished as *Betty* pulled into port back at my home town.\n\nThe folks knew where I'd gone. Customs had told the police when they lodged the missing person's report. Laws at Black Rock being what they are, divorce was automatic after the first two years. Don't care, the wife could have her new husband. There was more than a good chance they were his kids anyway. Didn't look nothin' like me, especially now they'd grown up.\n\nNow that I have experience as Radengineer, Jimmy lined me up with some other guys who were going to Beta67. Much further, probably about 3 months all around. \n\nTotally awesome Einstein, the ex-wife should have died of old age by the time I get back.\n",
"Side note: This is my first attempt at one of these. Let me know what you think!\n\nIn this moment right now, this is the best cigarette I have ever had.\n\nI came home to find Cheryl with another man. My eyes widened in on him. He was a man with such a familiar face. Such a strong cheekbone structure with a wavy complexion. His nose somehow pointed *and* rounded at the same time and jutting jaw, much like mine.\n\nShe was sitting on the couch and snuggling up with him when I walked through the door. As I stared at her, unnoticed, I just imagined him embracing her warmth and memorizing the patterns of her neutral heartbeat, such as I have these past four years. I have never found such rage inside myself as I have in this moment. It's the moment I snapped. I didn't even give them a chance to explain.\n\nI ran to my office, passing Cheryl, the man, and two teenagers *who slightly resembled my children* but my peripheral was so focused on grabbing the gun that I barely noticed. My elbow spurting small silts of leaking blood from shattering the glass on my gun cabinet. The words 'this is it' just kept repeating through my mind in a stuttering fashion as I loaded and cocked my beautifully polished Beretta. I'd like to say that I was startled by the words coming out of his mouth as he stood in the doorway, but it all translated to scattered gibberish to me. My adrenaline kicked in.\n\nThe hammer cocked back once. Twice. I don't know which echoed more, the screams coming from Cheryl, or the blood slopping against the halls of **my** ranch. My boots are drenched in blood and I felt it seeping through my toe cap. I guess water resistant isn't the same as blood resistant. She just wailed in tears in front of me, begging for her life in such a monotone and unusually deep voice. Her words were completely unrecognizable to any language that I have heard. The hammer cocked back once more. The sound pierced through my ears, almost completely disorientating me. A hand grabbed my shoulder and was met with an elbow in the stomach, a jab from my muzzle, and the sound of a high speed bullet ripping through bone and flesh. Then I saw a woman, one that I do not recognize, standing in the doorway looking at me in despair. She tried to run. I shot her...\n\nAs I'm sitting in my car, smoking what will be my last cigarette, I realize two things: that the vehicle parked adjacent to my neighbors house resembles my brothers and that my cigarette is not filled with **just** tobacco. In fact, what my cigarette contains is small particles of a powdery blue substance.\n\nThe last thing I see is a flash of white, and then everything is black.",
"I flick my cigarette butt onto my lawn. My family's making it hard to care anymore. It's hard to find the root of it all. I actually don't remember feeling so ill towards them before I set out for the convenience store. But it's all rushed up from within. \n\nI approach the front door and it opens as I reach for the handle. My wife stands there with an older man next to her. I look back at my wife waiting for her to tell me what this person's over here for. She says nothing. Two women in their twenties are coming down the stairs. My wife just stares and asks me when I'm going to stop doing this. \n\nShe looks older now that I'm really looking at her. I ask her what she's talking about. The two women behind them are my daughters. How did they get so old? Is that really them? I know it but don't believe it. Everyone looks annoyed that I asked what I did. My wife takes my arm and gently guides me inside. She asks me if I know what day it is. It's Tuesday. And asks if I remember last Tuesday. She faces me towards the mirror in the front hall. I look older than I thought I was.\n\nI stare and I don't remember last Tuesday. I don't remember the week before. I can't move. I hear one of my daughter's on the phone. The older man has gone upstairs. The rage that was rising is making it's way past the surprise. I find my fist banging against the wall, saying things I can't control or comprehend. I turn to my wife and she worriedly looks at her watch. ",
"I open my eyes and cast them around me. The sky is a bright blue, peppered with fluffy clouds and I feel oddly comfortable. My ease drops away swiftly as the smell of rotting garbage engrossed my mind and I realize I'm spread eagled in a garbage dump. Fighting down tremors of nausea I dig myself out of the pile and take my bearings. \"What happened?\" I ask myself out loud. My pockets are empty and my question seems to answer itself. I must have been robbed and they dumped me out here. They must not have expected me to survive. Think. What's the last thing you remember? The words pour from my subconscious and I think back. \n\nThe last thing I remember...\n\n\"I was at home, with Joan!\" I cry out. \"We were all in the living room, us and our two adopted boys.\" The image jolts forward from memory as if it intended to ram through my forehead and run singing into the world. \n\nI see her face as if she stood in front of me. Soft brown eyes, and hair that shimmered like dark honey in the sunlight. Her lips wrung themselves together as if they fought to master the words that came out. The words were simple though. \"Dear, could you run down and pick me up some cigarettes?\" She knew I disapproved, but I let it slide since it was only when she was stressed out. \"I've got something I need to talk to the boys about, and I'm not sure how they'll take it.\" \"Sure thing hon,\" I grinned back to her. Then I turns toward the door and there's nothing until waking up in the garbage pile.\n\n\"I've got to get back!\" I cry out. At this point it's hard for me to tell which dialogue is internal or not. Its unimportant as I feel the pressing need to return to my family. \n\nLooking around, I find the road that leads through the dump and start walking. I don't really notice until I've made it to the asphalt, but my ankles and knees have started clicking with every step. I write it off to waking up in garbage and press on.\n\nFour hours go by. Nobody picks up hitch hikers in this day and age. My pockets are empty, and I don't bother asking for change. Even if I did find a payphone, I would never remember the number. Another hit from modern consciences. I grin at this thought as I continue my mechanical stride. I'm almost there now.\n\nA knock at the door surprises Joan out of her reverie. She had finally gotten a real man to take interest in her, and they had married. She had two children of her own now, as well as the adopted two. This was probably one of them that had forgotten their keys. She placed her hands onto her knees and pulled herself erect. Walking briskly to the door she calls out, \"Forgot your keys again, dincha Samuel?\" Only to see a haggard face in front of her own. Joan is no slouch, but it takes almost a full minute for the face to click into place and the memories to flood back.\n\nI look onward hungrily as my wife opens the door. Or she should be my wife. Joan stares blankly at me for some time before a look of shock and horror squeeze her face into a rictus of chargrin. \"It's been ten years!\" She exults. \"What are you doing here?\"\n\nTen years?\n\nMy mind twists around itself in agony. \"Ten years!?\" I scream. My mind washes over everything I had been through this day, and all the years of previous devotion. How could she greet me like this? I turn and start to go back down the steps. Anything is better than being treated like this.\n\nThen there is only darkness.\n\nJoan looks down at the image in front of her and says stolidly to herself, \"This time I'm taking the batteries out!\"",
"*1. Have dinner ready when I get home. Have the table set, and have a new bottle of wine uncorked, but not poured on the table.*\n\n*2. Make sure the carpet is vacuumed, the tables and counters are cleaned, and everything is where it's supposed to be.*\n\n*3. If you have to go to the store, go only there. Talk to as few people as possible, and bring back the receipt.*\n\n*4. Be in the bedroom. Have Emily and James in their cribs, fed, bathed, and quiet. DO NOT come out and greet me when I get home. Have your hair washed, your face shaved, and be in bed.*\n\n*5. If I text you and tell you I am having company, go into the safe, take out some money, and go to the Residence Inn for the night.*\n\n*6. Make sure there is a pack of Marlboro Extra Lights waiting on the counter.* \n\nAnd Finally, \n\n*7. Be Good.*\n\nAlmost 10 years now. Almost 10 years now and the rules, each word, each letter are still ingrained in my brain. \n\nDon't get me wrong, I know that Cindy took pleasure in controlling my every waking moment. I know that it was her fetish. \n\nBut I also know that it was what was best for me. I needed to have structure, to follow rules. She was protecting me.\n\nWe made the best of it. If nothing else, I took care of my kids. Even though we were in that ratty double wide in that old trailer park, and we were barely given enough money to eat with, we had fun. \n\nSometimes I wouldn't be good, and Cindy wouldn't come home for days. \n\nBut mostly, it was okay.\n\nAll these years and I still can't go to sleep at night without seeing their faces; my babies, lying there in their cribs. Laughing and giggling when I tickled their feet, or spitting on the floor and making a mess as I tried to feed them. \n\nWe'd play that game where I'd scoop them up in the blanket and shake them all around, and they'd laugh and laugh until I lay down on the floor and they could crawl over me and smoosh my face.\n\nIt was good, and someday, maybe when Cindy was a little happier at work, and things had died down a bit, we'd be like a real family. We'd go on vacation and go out to eat. We'd move out of the park to a nice neighborhood in the suburbs. \n\nSomeday. \n\nBut on that day, James just wouldn't stop crying. He'd been up all night, and he felt like he had a fever. He was okay the day before, but with the shuffling between the Hotel and home I think he'd gotten run down, and that day the fever was worse, and he wouldn't eat, and he wouldn't stop crying. \n\nI'd done my best, I'd cleaned the house and fed Emily, I'd prepared dinner. But I kept having to go back to James, and I hadn't slept. \n\nI was so tired. \n\nOne moment I was taking out the bottle of wine, holding James in one arm, Emily asleep in her crib, and I remember that I just needed to rest. So I sat down on the couch, just for a moment, I still had an hour before Cindy came home, and everything was set, everything except...\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nCindy always was very secretive about her past, about her family, where she was from. But I knew about her husband, David. I knew what he'd done to her, and I knew how unhappy she was with him.\n\nOf course the rest was always sort of a game. In that place, that wretched hell hole of a place, our relationship wasn't allowed. So we had to be secretive, we had to keep it from everyone else, and if I did good, if I did exactly as she said, she promised to take me away from there.\n\nI was so vulnerable then, so willing to accept everything and anything she'd say just for her companionship, just to make her happy, and just to get out. \n\nI knew she was a little crazy too, just like me. And I knew we were meant to be together, she'd always told me so. If only there wasn't David.\n\nAnd then that night I'd gotten out. I hadn't been good.\n\nShe was really nice about everything. We'd moved into the trailer park, and she'd said it'd just be for awhile, until she could figure things out, and until things died down a bit. And I was okay there, happy she was helping me. \n\nI always knew how much she'd wanted to help me. She'd get so anxious and freak out, but she cared so much. \n\nOne day she came home and told me she was pregnant.\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nIt was the cigarettes. \n\nI'd awoken that day and looked at the clock: 5 minutes until she'd be home. It was okay, I'd thought, everything was set, I just needed to lay out the cigarettes and get to bed. \n\nI'd gone to the cabinet. It was empty. \n\nI remember the panic, how did I forget to restock? \n\nI'd run out. I didn't have a car, but the supermarket wasn't so far. So I ran and ran, I ran as hard as I could, until my lungs were exploding and finally, after what seemed like forever, I got there. \n\nI got the cigarettes. \n\nI rushed home. Cindy's car wasn't out front when I got there, and I thought maybe she was running late. I rushed in, set the cigarettes on the counter and went to the bedroom to check on the kids. \n\nI should have noticed that James hadn't been crying when I got back and how quiet everything was...\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nCindy was always smarter than me. She'd always lead the way. \n\nShe'd changed her name, and so I changed mine. I grew a beard, put on some weight, and I searched. I searched for so long. \n\nAfter awhile I was able to get a job, and then another. I travelled across the country working, and looking. \n\nSometimes, I wasn't good. \n\nI never gave up hope, though. \n\nAnd then, last week I found them. \n\nAfter all this time, wouldn't you know, they were in the suburbs across town. They live in a nice house, with a good yard. Emily and James are so Big! Emily must be an athlete, and James, well I bet he's the studious type. \n\nCindy's new husband is tall, handsome guy. Good smile, full head of blond hair; he looks nice.\n\nI thought about barging in, about handing her the pack of cigarettes and doing to her husband what I'd done to David. \n\nBut he looked nice, and she looked happy, even content. \n\nCindy had always wanted to help me, but I'd broken the rules. She'd been right to leave. \n\nAnd now she's happy, and my kids are happy. \n\nI think that I'll leave them alone. I think that they deserve to be happy, even if I can't. \n\nSo here I am, back in the trailer park across town, following those 7 rules, even though Cindy isn't coming home. \n\nI follow the rules, and I try so hard. \n\nI wonder every day if Cindy would maybe like to see me, and the kids, I'd love to meet them too, to talk to them. \n\nAnd everyday I struggle, and I wonder...\n\n...how long I can be good.",
"The door opened with a creak that was familiar, but I could not recognize the woman standing on the other side. “Um, So Sorry… I must have the wrong apartment”, I offered, and stepped back to look at the door number. At the same time that I saw the brass 12 that indicated that this was indeed my house, the woman fell to her knees, sobbing. “How could you do this to us?”, I heard, between her sobs. The realization hit me, and I was filled with dread, even though all this still made no sense to me. “Ir… Irene?”, I stammered, and knelt beside her, opening her hands that were still covering her face. It was her, but.. But it was not. I backed away from her with a jerk. Then, I heard nothing. I could only see her features contort, a popping vein in her forehead, spit flying everywhere as she screamed. Irene did not look like this, she was much younger, but somehow I knew she was in front of me. \n\nSuddenly, I saw a pair of arms on Irene’s shoulder, and looked up. There, leaning over her, was my daughter, but much older. I staggered back until I could manage to get on my feet, and just ran. My heart was beating faster than ever, and then everything went black.\n\nWhen I woke up, I was in a bed, in my bed. “What a wierd dream”, I sighed, and walked out of the room. I saw her, and was struck by a familiar feeling of despair. “After all this time… Why do you come here now?”, she said, holding back tears. It took me a while to find my voice. “Irene, I… What happened? I just went out and came back.. Why is everything so different? Why do you look so different?” “That’s what happens in ten years, asshole”, she retorted back.”You think I’m the one who looks different? You don’t look that great either”. I touched my face, and it felt foreign. I ran to the mirror, and saw a different man, an old man. “What happened?”. Irene stood at the door, a puzzled look on her face. She launched into a tirade about how I was a horrible man, how I could leave them without a word, no indication. Eventually, I found it in me to respond. “Irene, I don’t .. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just went out for a cigarette ten minutes ago.”, I managed to stammer. Irene’s face softened immidiately. She took my arm and sat me on the bed. She hugged me and started weeping into my shoulder.\n\nA few months have passed since the incident. It’s still quite puzzling. I’m still trying to figure out what happened, and why my wife removed all the calendars from the house.\n",
"Imagine you’re watching a movie and 20 mins in you get a call from work making you leave the cinema hall for an hour until the issue is resolved and you come back to resume watching but now nothing makes sense anymore. The pair you thought were cousins are making out. That kind looking gentleman who reminded you of your dad is apparently the bad guy who killed strippers for fun. It makes you wonder what exactly happened in that 1 hour of the movie you missed.\n\nWhat if this happens in your real life? I ask because it did in mine. At first I thought it was a prank. Maybe she had put some makeup on to make her look 10 years older. And the whole “What the fuck are you doing here after all this time?” bit was a great way to begin the act even when I was gone for only 10 mins. It was only after I saw my kids who looked like familiar faces but had doubled in size did I realize something has gone wrong with the whole space-time continuum. How could my life fast forward 10 years?\n\nIt was just like any other day. I had been smoking quite a lot since past few months because of the stress at work. So, like always I left home at around 6 pm to get a pack of cigarettes and came home at 6:10, which was apparently 10 mins and 10 years later. How could that have happened? My family thought I had abandoned them for 10 years and my wife’s or should I say my ex-wife’s husband manhandled me and kicked me out of the house.\n\nHow could this have happened? If I had a penny for everytime I asked this question, I’d be richer than OECD’s combined GDP. At one point I thought I was a mental patient suffering from severe schizophrenia but I could remember everything else except for those 10 years. I have been living on the streets for over 12 years now. And I remember every single day. I even remember my past very vividly. Susie - the first girl I had kissed. Jane - the girl who broke my heart. And I also remember the entire periodic table which I learnt in my 4th grade. \n\nI had no answer. I had shared my story everywhere but no one believed me. They all thought I was some mentally challenged bum who has lost his grip with reality. Months passed by and so did my bickering. What else could I do? Go to the police and say what? I’m reporting a theft of 10 years of my life? My family didn’t want to do anything with me. So I basically had nothing. I had given up. The whole mystery would never be revealed to me and I had made my peace with it. All I was waiting for was my death.\n\nUntil one day I met someone and everything changed. I couldn’t sleep in the cold NYC winter. I hadn’t eaten in 3 days. Just when I was about to jump into a trash can to look for leftovers, I saw a young gentleman walking in my direction. He had a good built. He was wearing an Armani jacket like I used to back in the old days. In fact as I looked closely - it was the exact beige colored Armani jacket which I had. It even had a missing button on its breast pocket. Just when I thought it couldn’t get weirder than this, the street lamp shone on his face and a familiar looking face emerged - mine. His blue eyes met mine and said, “I’ve come from the past. And we have some work to do.”",
"\"Don't do it Dad!\"\n\nI looked at the small, round face staring up at me, her long pigtails flopping to either side as she hugged my leg. Her eyes were brimming with tears. \n\n'I... I have to,' I muttered, looking at the far wall as I tried to avoid my daughter's gaze. \n\n\"Dad, we don't know when you will come back this time!\" my son pleaded.\n\nI flinched slightly and covered my ears, as his voice suddenly seemed amplified. I shuffled back a few steps, my daughter still clinging to my leg. I realized my hands were trembling, and I tried to rub them to stop the shaking.\n\n'I have not had a stick for too long. I need one now. Don't worry, I won't take long.' I knew I did not sound convincing. I looked up for my wife's support, and realized she had been sitting on the couch, quiet all this while, with a look of resignation on her face. \n\n---\n\nThe government had stepped up its anti-smoking regulations by implementing a time-delay device for any purchases of cigarettes. Basically, you step into a machine, enter your purchase, and the machine warps you forward in time at random. It was their way of trying to disincentivize smoking.\n\nDid it work? For some people, they get lucky and only get warped forward a few hours. For my previous few trips, I've been usually warped forward only a few days, with my longest being 2 weeks. My kids did not like that too much - who would like it when your father disappeared for an unknown period of time?\n\nThey didn't understand my struggle. Do they know how much I am dependent on the cigarettes? Do they know the pain I endure when I do not smoke? I can't concentrate, I have difficulties breathing, I feel cold even when the fan is turned off. I need my sticks.\n\n---\n\nI entered the shop, and waved at the cashier as I declared my intent 'Cigarettes please.'\n\nThe middle-aged man glanced at me with a look of skepticism. He signalled me to the machine behind the store. \n\nI grunted in thanks, as I made my way to the machine. God, please let this be a quick one. I stepped in, keyed in my purchase, and closed my eyes to wait for the familiar buzzing and spinning sensation.\n\n---\n\nWhen is this? \n\nEverything looked different, as I made my way home. I walked past many unfamiliar shops, and some of the paths and roads were not what I recalled.\n\nWhen I arrived at my door, I realized the keys didn't work. What the hell. I rang the doorbell instead, and waited.\n\nThe door opened, and I was greeted by a familiar-looking teenage girl. When she saw me, her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. She flung her arms around me in a tight embrace, as I stumbled back a few steps. Who is this?\n\nShe released me after a few moments, and turned to the house. 'Mom!' she yelled. 'Mom!! It's Dad!' she repeated with urgency.\n\nI saw my wife appear around the corner, with a middle-aged man behind her. She had a similar reaction as the girl, but her face quickly twisted into a look of betrayal and disgust. \n\n\"Ten years. You were gone for TEN YEARS,\" she spat out. The man behind her had a look of concern, and he put his arm around my wife, as if to comfort her. What's this man doing with my wife? \n\nI wanted to step in, but a burly-looking teenage boy came out from the kitchen and stood in front of me. Son? The girl who gave me a hug retreated hesitantly into the house, glancing at my wife. \n\n\"Go away,\" my wife said with finality, her eyes burning with loathe. The girl's eyes swelled with tears. The man seemed smug, as he stood casually next to her. \n\nBefore I could protest, the teenage boy closed the door on my face, as my mind was still reeling from what just happened. \n\nI rang the doorbell a few more times, but all I heard were muffled sobs from behind the door.\n\nI stepped out into the street, trying to make sense of what happened. Who is that man? Were those my children? Did I really warp ten years ahead?\n\nThe questions swarmed my mind, as my fingers subconsciously found their way into my pocket and fished out a cigarette. \n\nLet me first take a puff. \n\n\n",
"I'd gotten a raise. That was the start of it. Five years of no bonus. Five years of \"Things are tight, Ray. You know how it is.\" Five of my best years of giving a damn. And finally - finally - Levenson called me into his office and patted me on the back. \n\n\"It's been a good year, Ray,\" he said. \"A real good year.\"\n\nAnd I said, \"Good enough for a raise?\" I said it every year, because every year had seemed like a pretty goddamn good year from where I was sitting on the bottom floor. \n\nNormally, old Gil Levenson hemmed and hawed and shook out his shaggy, white head. \"Afraid not. Afraid not,\" he'd say. But not this time.\n\n\"You're damn right it was,\" he said, eyes gleaming like a madman. \"How's fifteen percent suit you? Only wish it could be more, after all these years.\"\n\nFifteen was plenty. Hell, you could've flopped the decimal point around wherever you liked and I still would've been pleased as punch. *Fifteen percent?* Goddamn.\n\n\"Go home early. Celebrate!\" And old Gil kicked up his feet, stretched out like a pig on a spit. \"Time to start livin'.\"\n\nI went home. But first, I stopped at the Quikpump on Lawson. I wanted something special. Something for *me*. \n\nNow, don't get the wrong impression. We'd bled as a family all those years. Scrimped and saved and struggled like baby turtles on the beach. Hardly a word of complaint, except once or twice from Joey and Sandy. And they're still kids, after all. It's only natural.\n\nSo that money was for all of us. Me and Cheryl and Joe and Sand. But I *needed* something. Something just for me. Because as much as we'd all sacrificed, I was the one on the front lines. I did the work. I aged 20 years in five, working ungodly hours, listening to idiots, letting suited-up jackasses take all the credit. \n\nWhen I walked out of Levenson's office I was excited, yeah, but bone tired, too. Like I had half the blood I ought've. \n\nSo I needed something for me. I'd earned it.\n\nI bought a six pack, but that wasn't the thing. In truth, I didn't know what the thing was until I saw it, hovering up above, leering down at me from over the cashier's head. \n\n\"What's that black pack?\" I asked. It was a pack of cigarettes. The box was jet black with faint, silver writing. I sometimes smoked when I drank, and suddenly I was craving both.\n\n\"Kingshead Black,\" said the cashier. He didn't make a move to open the case. \"They're kind of expensive. Never really sell any. Not sure why they're even up there, to be honest.\" \n\n\"How expensive?\"\n\n\"Two hundred.\"\n\nI blinked. \"For a *crate*?\"\n\nThe cashier shook his head, obviously embarrassed. \"For the pack.\"\n\n\"Why so much?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Just...real good, I guess? I don't smoke.\"\n\n\"Neither do I.\" I tapped the glass. \"I'll take 'em.\"\n\nIt took another three minutes to convince the cashier I was serious. By then I was getting agitated. \"How much more of my time are you gonna waste?\" \n\nI bought the cigarettes. \n\nInside my car, I held the pack up under the dome light and tried to read the print. I could only make out one line: *FOR THE MAN WHO'S THROUGH WAITING AROUND.* What could be more perfect?\n\nI cracked the window and pulled out the first cigarette. The paper was gray. The butt was almost red. It was pretty, in its own way. It looked like a $200 cigarette ought to.\n\nI wasn't prepared for the taste. Almond and ginger. A sweet, burning spiciness that crawled down my throat like a drunken spider. I didn't cough, though. Usually, the first cigarette makes me cough, but not this one. Again, just how a disgustingly expensive cigarette should be. \n\nI smoked the whole pack in a sitting. \n\nDidn't feel sick afterwards or anything. Just invigorated. Alive. Like the life had come back into my limbs. The blood was back in my veins. \n\nTime to get back to living.\n\nI went home. And that's when it all went to shit.\n\nI almost kept going because I didn't recognize the cars in the driveway. Two cars, and neither was Cheryl's Jeep. \n\nThen my keys didn't work. The doorbell wasn't right either. I was just about to leave, convinced I'd forgotten my own house number, when the door opened. Cheryl came out.\n\n\"Ray?\"\n\nShe looked wrong. Shorter hair, heavier, weird, thick eye make-up. She looked older.\n\n\"What's going on?\" I asked, trying to step through the door, only to find that Cheryl wouldn't move. Her face was drooping - settling down from surprise to one of her more familiar expressions: anger.\n\n\"What the fuck kind of nerve do you have coming here?\" \n\nI laughed. Not to be cruel or a shithead or anything. My brain just told me it was the cigarettes. I smelled like cigarettes. Cheryl hated me smoking, but she let it slide as long as the kids never found out. Can't have them knowing that Daddy's a hypocrite. \n\n\"Sorry, I was celebrating,\" I said, trying to get around her again. \"I'll chuck the clothes and take a quick shower. They won't know anything.\" She put her hands out protectively, holding her position in the doorframe. \"I've got great news,\" I added, pretty pathetically. \n\n\"I don't give a shit,\" she growled. \"After all these years? Get the fuck out of here!\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nThere was a kid in the doorway behind her then, a bulky, zitted-up teenager in a hoodie. \"Dad?\"\n\n\"What the hell is this?\" I said, louder than I should have. I was angry, though. Angry and confused. \"Who are you?\"\n\nThe teen pushed past Cheryl. His eyes ran me up and down. \"You haven't changed at all.\"\n\nI turned back to Cheryl. \"Who is this kid in our house?\"\n\n\"It's Joey, asshole,\" said Cheryl. \"Now get out of here before I call the cops!\"\n\n\"Joey?\"\n\nThe teen cocked his head. \"Where the hell did you go?\"\n\n\"Go? *Go*? I went to work, goddamnit! I went to fucking *work*! What is happening here?\"\n\n\"Cheryl? Cheryl? Get in the house.\" Someone else was there. A man. He swung a sturdy lumberjack belly through the doorway and pushed Cheryl and the teenager back into the house. \"Go call the police. And stay inside.\"\n\n\"Who the fuck are you?\" I bellowed. \"Get the fuck out of my house!\"\n\nThe man looked like he has halfway through his transition into Santa Claus. He was doughy, but big enough where it counted to make me nervous. \n\n\"You're Ray, I'm guessing?\"\n\nI clenched my fists, ready to swing any second. \"This is my fucking *house* and I'm getting tired of whatever this stupid, fucking game is. Now step aside so I can go home.\"\n\nSanta just shook his head. \"No, Ray. Not anymore. This hasn't been your house for a decade now. Ever since you left.\"\n\n\"*Left*? I went to work!\"\n\n\"I don't give a shit *where* you went,\" said Santa, taking one step forward. \"But you left. Without a word. Without a dollar of support.\" He pointed toward the house. \"They moved on. Don't do this.\"\n\n\"This is insane!\" I could see the neighbors, standing in their windows, clutching curtains in their little paws. None of them were gonna stand up for me. No one was gonna vouch for my life and my work and my fucking sacrifice. \n\n\"I didn't leave,\" I hissed. \"I went to work. Like I always do. I went to work and I put in my ten fucking hours and got *nowhere*.\" I circled past Santa, slapping the warped siding. \"Small fucking house. No fucking savings. Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm dying, every goddamn day, and there's *nothing* to show for it. They're eating me alive.\"\n\n\"That why you left?\" said Santa, nodding towards the house. \"'Cause they weren't good enough for you? They weren't worth the effort?\"\n\n\"I didn't leave!\" I howled. \"Don't you get it? That's the whole fucking point! I've been letting them eat my goddamn soul for the people in this fucking house! And I'd do it again! And again! And *again*! But it's pointless... I don't get what I deserve, and my family doesn't get what they deserve. And life... all of it... it just keeps draining away... draining away with nothing to show for it.\"\n\nSanta shook his head. I could see Cheryl in the window. And the boy... it *was* Joey. And there was a teenage girl there, too. It was Sandy, and she was beautiful and awkward and wonderful. And I realized how much Joey looked like his mother and how much of his size was muscle, and it made me wonder if he played football like he'd always wanted. And then I was terror stricken to think it was all real. That I'd missed it. That I'd lost it. The pee wee football games. The dance recitals. The successes and the failures and the ceaseless, unstoppable growth.\n\nI fell to my knees, stomach flexing and roiling. I could feel Santa standing over me.\n\n\"Is that really what you think?\" he said. \n\nI puked. I puked more than I think I've ever done. And when it was over, I felt a hand on my back.\n\n\"Christ, buddy, what'd you eat?\"\n\nI looked around and realized I was in the little alley behind the Quikpump. A heavyset trucker in overalls was patting my back. \"Fuck. Just let it all out. Good as new in no time.\"\n\nI belched painfully. \"Shit. Thanks.\"\n\n\"You, uh... you done?\"\n\nThings turned over in my mind. Righted themselves. Flipped like playing cards and revealed their true suits. \n\n\"Yeah, yeah. Thanks.\"\n\nThe trucker shook his head. \"You need an ambulance or anything?\"\n\n\"No. Just overdid it a bit.\" \n\nThe trucker nodded. \"Celebration?\"\n\nI spat out a wad of whatever remained. \"No, no. Just... disappointing news today. I thought I might get a raise, but... I didn't.\"\n\n\"Economy's shit,\" said the trucker, his empathy genuine. \"But as long as we've got enough to get by, right?\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. \"I think that's exactly right. What difference does a couple bucks make when you've got a good family at home?\"\n\n\"None at all,\" he said with a smile. \"None at all.\" "
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[WP] A game of D&D but the dungeon master is a warden and the players are Maximum security inmates | 246 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Normally the wardens didn't socialise with the inmates, and they DEFINITELY didn't do so from the same side of the bars. However, Warden Isk was different than most. He had no fear. Some thought it was his experience from the wars. Others just assumed it was the large - if ancient - piece he kept at his side and in-hand at all times.\n\nWhatever the case, the warden LOVED D&D, and today - lacking any others to play with - he was introducing the inmates to the game.\n\n\"The main rule, \" the warden intoned solemnly, \"is that the DM is the boss, and I am the DM. I'll play fair if you follow the rules and keep in role, but you'll be in deep crap otherwise. Also, how you play has consequences here in real life, so treat the game seriously.\"\n\nThe others glared up at him but kept silent. Rog rubbed his bulbous nose but stayed silent, while Shortie, Tall-boy and Slick grumbled but kept the peace.\n\n\n\"So, you all start out in a small town. It's night. There's a Smith's in the corner, as well as few other shops around town surrounding a dark alleyway. A lady is sitting by a fountain in the center of town.\"\n\nRog spoke up, \"Is the lady purty? If she is, I wanna talk ta her.\"\n\nThe warden checked his bag and pulled out a picture of a woman. \"What do you think,\" he answered \"Is she's pretty enough? What do you want to wanna ask?\"\n\nRog grinned. \"Er, I wanna spend da night wit her. Can I do it?\"\n\nAt this, Tall-boy chuckled. \"You stupid. You're a Orc. Nobody's gonna spend the night with you.\"\n\nRog's grin slipped away. \"Not a troll this game, r'member? I wanna try!\"\n\nWarden Isk handed him the dice, a pair of D10's. \"You roll higher than 60, you can spend the night with her and more!\"\n\nRog's grin returned. He picked up the dice and quickly tossed them. 78! \"I gots it! I gots it!\", he howled.\n\nThe warden passed over the picture. \"Here, you can have it all night.\" \n\nRog's grin grew even wider as he cradled the picture to his chest.\n\n\"On second though,\" said the warden, \"maybe you should just keep that one.\"\n\nNow Slick was starting to get interested. VERY interested, based on the bulge in his pants. \"Slick wants a pretty lady too! Where can I find a pretty lady for Slick?!\"\n\n\"Look around,\" said the DM, \"You never know what you'll find.\"\n\n\"Hum. Er. Slick likes dark alleys. let me look in the alley.\", said the criminal.\n\nThe DM smile at this and he pulled another picture from his bag. This lady was pretty too, if not as wholesome looking as the first. \"Well what do you know Slick, there IS a woman in the alleyway. She might even give you what you want, for a brass coin.\"\n\n\"Slick wants the lady!\". He reached into his dirty pocket and pulled out some money, passing it to the warden. \n\nThe warden grinned an evil grin, \"but Slick, you still need to roll the dice.\"\n\n\"Why should Slick roll dice? I paid!\", countered the filthy criminal.\n\n\"Because,\" said the warden, hand outstretched with both dice and picture, \"it's the game. Don't worry, you can still have the lady, but you have to play the game.\"\n\n\"Fine. Slick'll roll the stupid dice.\" With that, he quickly snatched both pictures and dice, then tossed the dice on the floor.\n\nThe dice rolled a bit, wobbled, then settled on a three, and a four.\n\n\"Ooooh, bad luck Slick! You should know better than to sleep with whores. You got the girl, but you also got the pox! That's 50 damage!\" And with that, he quickly whipped out his truncheon and slammed it into Slick's groin.\n\nEyes widening, Slick let out a wheeze of pain. Grabbing his crotch, he nearly tipped over sideways. Before he fell overly completely though, he managed to right himself.\n\n\"That hurt!\", he exclaimed. \"I wanna attack the bad lady!\"\n\nThe warden pointed once again at the dice. Still grimacing, Slick grabbed them and tossed immediately. This time, he got two ones.\n\n\"Oh Slick. Even worse luck. The bad lady sprays you in the eyes.\" With this the warden tossed a noxious substance in Slick's face, \"that's another 49 damange, and now the guards are coming!\"\n\nAs Slick fell over screaming, the other inmates stood up. Rog grabbed the dice. \"Rog is lucky! Rog will help Slick!\"\n\nThe dice went flying. They rolled, tilted, spun, and landed on two ones.\n\n\"Bad luck for you both! 20 Damage for Rog!\", exclaimed the warden as he smacked Rog in the face with his Truncheon.\n\n\"And 100 damage for Slick!\"\n\n\nThe truncheon dropped. Warden Isk dropped it and reached for the piece at his side. Hefting his silver Axe, he lopped Slick's head off in a clean swipe.\n\n\n\"No HP left. You're dead Slick.\"\n\nGesturing with the Axe, he backed the remaining prisoners against the wall.\n\n\"Now I'm a bit thirsty after all the excitement, so I think we'll call it a night. We can continue playing next week, and I trust you all will remember about the consequences next time.\"\n\nAs he brandished the axe, the three remaining felons quickly fled, their feet flapping against the cobblestones as they ran into the recesses of the dungeon. The warden grinned.\n\n\"Slick, you can get up now\"\n\nSlowly, Slick raised himself to his feet. Already a new head was quick filling the space that the old one vacated.\n\n\"Did Slick do good?\", asked Slick, his voice slightly off-pitch due to the currently undersized mouth.\n\n\"Yeah, Slick, you did good. Here's your reward\", said Isk as he tossed a package at the feet of the slimy troll.\n\nAs Slick picked up the package, the Warden reminded him:\n\n\"Now just remember not to tell anyone else about our little deal. But try to find more players too.I get bored playing Daggers & Death-lords without a fresh crowd now and then.\"\n\nLooking up at scaly figure towering above him, Slick smiled. \"No problem boss. Next time I find some Goblins. Orcs is fun, but Halflings and Elves is boring\"\n\n\"Sounds good, Slick\", smiled the half-Dragon warden. \"Let those three spread word. The rewards will still draw a crowd, but I don't think ANYONE will forget about the consequences after our little display tonight\"\n\nThen - whistling an off-pitch tune - he locked the dungeon then headed back to check his hoard and plan the next game-night.",
"As an aspiring writer, I've held a lot of day jobs to make ends meet: accountant, barista, cashier, dog walker, professional porno extra, pizza delivery guy. You name it, I probably did it. But the weirdest job, and the most gratifying, was Dungeon Master in prison.\n\n****\n\n\"You want me to what.\" I eyed the man sitting across the plastic folding table.\n\n\"I know it's not exactly what we said in the job description,\" said the warden, \"but the inmates can use a bit of intellectual recreation.\"\n\n\"Buddy, you're so far away from what the job description that it's a job verbal irony.\"\n\n\"It's not that far,\" he sighed, \"you're a creative writing instructor. And part of that involves getting people to creatively tell stories. This is exactly that, only, you know, without writing it down. We've had a few issues with sharp pencils in recent years.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but I thought you meant like writing poetry about the anguish and isolation of maximum security prison or, or, or personal condolence letters to their victims. And, and, and I thought it would be over video conference or email or something! I didn't think I'd have to be there, with those, those brutes, *in person*.\"\n\nBy this point, I had worked myself up into such a froth that I knocked over my flimsy chair and started pacing back and forth. This was supposed to be *the job*, the one that pulled me out of crippling debt without having to be naked again, the one that is actually in line with the job I want to have. I needed this job, but not at the expense of my life.\n\n\"Mister Patterson,\" he pleaded, \"please, just have an open mind about this? You're the only person who's agreed to even come in for an interview. Just try it out for the first month and if it really doesn't work, we'll pay you in full.\" I stopped pacing. \n\n\"I could do one month\", I thought.\n\n\"Okay,\" I said.\n\nFamous last words.\n\n***\n\nSo I never really played Dungeons and Dragons before. \n\nHow hard could it be? I read a couple guidebook pre-built missions and they're straightforward enough. A bunch of people pretending to be things other than people walk into a dark and creepy room filled with treasure and monster things. You roll some dice, some monsters do some stuff, they roll some dice, they kill some monsters and loot the treasure. Like video games, but it's all in your head. Easy mode.\n\nTo say I was woefully unprepared for our first session is a massive understatement.\n\nIt started off well enough. I passed through security unscathed. The guard, whose name tag read \"Alex Gutierrez\", gave me a nod and a cheerful hello as he opened the gate to the tiny visitor's room adjoining the containment cell. And lo and behold, none of the five inmates inside were strangling each other or yelling obscenities at me through the bulletproof plexi-glass. It did, however, worry me a little that there was an empty chair.\n\n\"Tiny Tim has some indigestion. Cafeteria food ain't quite three Michelin stars yet,\" said a tall lanky man, when he noticed my puzzled expression. Ahh. That explained it.\n\nI grabbed the chair in the visitor's room, spun it around and sat on it backwards, just like the inmates. I figured, anything to make me seem like I belong. Also, the chair back provides better crotch protection in case a the bulletproof plexi-glass isn't as resilient as TV cop dramas make them seem. I took a deep breath.\n\n\"Hello, uh, everyone,\" I said, \"My name is Chris Patterson and I will be your, uh, creative writing coach slash Dungeon Master. I think it's a good time to introduce yourselves to me and, I dunno, maybe tell me a little something about your characters and we can get right into it.\"\n\n\"Shi-iit,\" said the big bulky guy to my left, \"this asshole never DM'd before in his life.\"\n\n****\n\nA/N: Augh this is looking like it'll be longer than I intended and it's crazy late already. I'll have to pick this up tomorrow.\n\nEDIT: [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5otp6u/wp_a_game_of_dd_but_the_dungeon_master_is_a/dcnk4ux/)",
"\"You see an orcish berserker cornering a young peasant woman on the road. It is gnashing it's teeth at her and laughing. What do you do?\"\n\nTyrone scratched his short beard, looking down at the board with seemily indifferent eyes. Seemily indifferent, that is, until you get a good look at them. A fire blazed behind those eyes, his brow furrowed as he considered his options.\n\nFinally he spoke. \"I beat the shit out him.\"\n\n\"Uh... Are you sure about that?\" Tyrone's character (who is also called Tyrone) didn't actually have any weapons or armor. He wielded a sock with a in it brick instead, using it as a improvised flail.\n\n\"Did I fucking stutter? I beat the shit out of the orcish berserker.\" \n\n\"Anyone else wanna do anything this turn? Brooks? Pedro?\" The two other men in cell seven (one of them tall with bushy, oily hair and matching beard; the other bald and squat) shrug.\n\n\"Actually, I would like to check for any nearby litter or trash that I could pick up. We all have to do our part to keep Mother Earth clean, after all,\" Brooks said. \n\n\"There is nothing in the vincinity that would stand out. The forest is completely pristine and almost untouched by human hands.\"\n\nBrooks stared at me, \"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Yes. I'm certain.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" He said, without blinking.\n\n\"Can I roll my fucking dice now, please?\", Tyrone had the d20 held between his thumb and index finger. \n\n\"Yes. Roll.\"\n\nIt was a crit. \"Your... sock... impacts with the orc's forehead, knocking him down in one hit. He is dead. What do you do?\"\n\nTyrone tapped his finger on the table. \"I will rape his dead corpse.\"\n\n\"Okay you... Wait what?\"\n\n\"Did I fucking stutter?\", he barked.\n\n\"No... No, I heard you loud and clear... but... I mean, I don't think this is the kind of game where you can do that. You're suppose to be the 'hero' after all. They don't really do that kind of stuff.\"\n\nTyrone sighed. \"I wish to use the dead body of my enemy for carnal catharsis. What is fucking wrong with that?\"\n\n\"Okay, fine. Roll the dice.\"\n\n\"Great,\" he grinned, \"and after this I'll drench my weapon in his blood to apply a +2 damage boost. Just like the vikings did.\"\n\nI sighed. \"Pedro? Brooks?\"\n\n\"I wish to plant a tree. I take a cutting from one of the great oaks nearby and plant it on the ground. I nurture it with the blood of the dead orc.\"\n\n\"Pedro?\"\n\n\"Is the young peasant woman still there?\", he breathes heavily. \"If so, then I'll kill her and loot her skin.\"\n\nI stare at the small, mustachioed man. *Why did I think it would've been a good idea to step into the same room as these psychopaths?* I sighed. \"Sure. Go ahead.\"\n\n\"Uh... Don't I need to roll the dice?\"\n\n\"No. Just... just take her fucking skin.\"\n\nPedro took a playing card out and writes the words, 'Human skin' on it using a felt pen. He rubs the playing card against his cheeks happily and mutters something underneath his breath.\n\n\"Uh. DM?\", Tyrone says hesitantly. He points to the dice on the table. A critical failure?\n\n\"The orcish berserker wakes up as you... he wakes up and hits you with a nasty surprise attack, before bleeding out.\"\n\n\"Did he just cut my dick off? Is that what your trying to say?\"\n\n\"Uh. Sure let's go with that.\"\n\nA vein bulges out in his forehead. His eyes become misty with tears. \"I'm a monster. A dickless abomination!\" His massive chest heaves as he sobs uncontrollably.\n\nBrooks puts a hand on his shoulder. \"I'm sure there's a Eunuch's support group around here somewhere. Cheer up, man.\"\n\nPedro reaches up to put a flabby hand on Tyrone's forearm. \"Here, my friend,\" he hands him his card. \"You will need this to hide your true nature.\"\n\n\n"
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[WP] A graveyard is an odd place to meet someone. And yet, here you both are. | 22 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"This your idea of some sick joke?\" Katie said.\n\nJessica shrugged. \"Depends on your brand of humor.\"\n\nKatie bit the inside of her cheek and looked away from Jessica, shaking her head in disbelief. \"What the actual fuck,\" she muttered.\n\n\"Listen.\" Jessica sighed. \"I wasn't thinking. It's just, you know, for old times sake...\" She trailed off as Katie glared at her.\n\n\"Old times are dead and done with. Some of them, *literally* dead.\" Katie jabbed a finger down at the headstone.\n\nMIRANDA PHILLIPS\n\nJessica tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. \"You have to believe me. I didn't know what was going on.\"\n\n\"With your own *girlfriend?*\"\n\n\"All of that happened after I left,\" Jessica said, trying to keep her voice even and calm. \"I know that I can't take back what I did, but if I'd known -\"\n\n\"Oh, is that what we're here for?\" Katie snapped. \"Trying to clear the air? Let everyone know that you're actually a good person?\"\n\n\"I don't care what everyone thinks. I care what *you* think.\"\n\nKatie pressed her lips together. She blinked furiously against the tears welling up in her eyes. \"Why.\"\n\n\"Because it was *us*, you know?\" Jessica pleaded. \"You, me, and Miranda. This was our spot. I cared about you. I still do.\"\n\nKatie's voice was as dark as murder. \"Then why did you leave?\"\n\n\"I couldn't...\" Jessica started over. \"It got too hard, okay? Being in love. I couldn't hurt Miranda.\"\n\nKatie's eyebrows drew together, in confusion this time. \"In love?\"\n\nJessica lowered her eyes and shifted away from the headstone slightly. \"With you.\"",
"The following story is semi-autobiographical about my experience losing a bf.\n\nIt had taken me all summer to get here, like my own inner self was willing it to not be true. I got the phone call the day after it happened, Sammy crying into the phone babbling about you and an accident. I made out enough to know what hospital you were at and that you weren’t expected to survive. Talking to Ben that Sunday revealed a little more, like the fact that you left where you were so fast you didn’t put on your helmet. \n\nBen thought you were fleeing for your life. \n\nBen swears you were set up.\n\nI didn’t go to the hospital my love because of your estranged ex-wife. In fact, I was downright warned I’d be in for a fist fight if I did show up, so I kept my distance. \n\nThe day they let you leave us with grace and dignity, I bought a bus ticket to Toronto so I could say goodbye. Once again, I was warned by Ben and Sammy. My heart broke into a million pieces.\n\nI want to thank you, Jay, for leaving me with these words you said to Sammy;\n\n“I should have gone after her,”\n\nI let my own fear of causing a scene keep me from seeing you one last time, and instead I bided my time. I waited patiently until the wounds were no longer raw and I felt it was safe enough to return to say my final words to you.\n\nThat summer I went home to visit family and friends. I saw Ben and we talked about you, a lot. I went to the place where we had our first date; you remember that day. That was the day you put me on the back of your motorcycle and we just rode to the water. When I went back in the summer of 2012, I took an empty box to fill with soil from where we sat. I felt like the soil still had your energy in it.\n\nSo here I sat, at your grave that was still barren of grass, with this box of dirt from Georgian Bay.\n\nFrom the corner of my eye I see a woman approaching, hesitantly, being weary of my presence. Her large sun hat and glasses blocking most of her face from me, but I knew who it was.\n\nNot ready to leave your side just yet, I made room for her to sit with me, and to my surprise she did. We silently sat for a few moments before either of us had any inclination to speak, and I was the first one to break the silence.\n\n“I knew him through Sammy and Ben. He was a good man and I’m sorry for your loss,”\n\n“Thank you,” She replied, “I also know who you are, and what you meant to him. Your picture was the background on his phone when he died,”\n\nWe sat quietly for a moment, when she finally said, “Thank you for loving him when I no longer could.”\n",
"\"So... come here often?\"\n\n\"Oh, shut it, Ethan. I'm sure this is a blast for you, but I've got a cranky three year-old waiting for dinner.\" \n\n\"Ooooh, tasty. Did you lure it or steal it?\" \n\nAllie tossed him a shovel. \"Legitimately summoned, thank you. Which--incidentally--is why we're here tonight.\" \n\n\"And here I thought you just wanted to cuddle.\" Ethan spared a wink and drove his shovel earthward. Rime crackled into snowdust. \n\n\"That's a cute way of saying 'fuck.'\" \n\n\"Isn't it?\" \n\nThe icy ground was hard to shovel, and exertion quickly replaced conversation. An hour passed before the earth began to soften. Great shovelfuls of soil piled up beside the grave, sending whispers of steam into the deepening night. Allie pushed a boot against the shovel and dug out another mass. \n\n\"How deep did they dig this thing?\" Ethan grunted.\n\n\"Deep. They didn't take chances with these kinds of corpses. Lots of superstition around soothsayers and such. Thought she'd claw their way out and walk around, I suppose.\"\n\n\"It'd save us a hell of a lot of effort if she did.\" \n\nAllie nodded.\n\nIt was another three hours before they finally hit the box. Allie swept dirt from the top with her forearm. \n\n\"This it?\" \n\n\"Sure is.\"\n\nEthan let loose a low whistle. The five-by-five crate was livid with glyphs, bound in dark, gleaming wood that looked--for all its hundred-odd years--like it had sat in the ground for less than a day. A strip of black wax seamed the lid to the crate. \n\n\"Well, Allie. I believe this is your area of expertise. Hope you don't mind if I vacate while you do your thing.\" \n\n\"What, not feeling so cuddly now?\"\n\n\"I like living. Call it a character flaw.\" \n\n\"Alright. Go on and climb out. I'll wait until you're clear.\"\n\nEthan sunk the shovel into the soil and hoisted himself up the edge of the pit. A moment later, ice crunched beneath boots.\n\n\"Okay! Clear!\" \n\nAllie shook her head. She could count on Ethan for a lot of things, but bravery wasn't high on the list. At least she hadn't had to dig alone. The crate, though. That would have to be all her. \n\nShe shook the stiffness from her shoulders and reached for her hex bag. Already, the runes were beginning to glow. ",
"Rook heard the click but failed to register what it meant. Had he not been with three other men, he might have died. But, the other three men knew what was happening, and before Peter knew it, he was immobilized, two of his friends holding him in place while a third slowly crouched to the ground. \n\n\"Another mine. Granite didn't sweep near as well as we thought,\" said the man crouched on the ground.\n\n\"Doesn't matter how well Granite swept, we need to get out of here, ASAP. Live up to your name and help Rook out, Angel,\" came the reply from the man holding Rook from behind. Angel swiftly pulled a Swiss Army knife out of his bag and went to work. Within a minute, the mine was disarmed. \n\nRook stepped off the mine and addressed his friends. \"Jesus, sorry about that one. Wasn't paying near enough attention,\" Rook said in an attempt to apologize. \"Yeah, damn right you weren't, one more move like that and you could kill us all.\" The harsh, deep voice of Spitz came like a punch in the gut. Rook looked dismayed, but then another voice came forward. \"Take it easy, Spitz, there are tons of leaves everywhere. It's the middle of fall and we *are* in a forest.\" Rook knew he could rely on Buckeye to have his back. They had been through basic training together, and shared a bond that was almost unbreakable. \n\n\"Whatever. Let's get moving again. No doubt the safehouse is beginning to wonder what happened to us.\" Spitz began to trudge again, the heavy weight of his assault rifle doing its best to slow him down and marginally succeeding. Rook, Angel, and Buckeye followed suit, catching Spitz and taking point.\n\nThey had just been to the brink of hell, brought back, thrust in again, and then managed to jump out of the frying pan and into the fire, only to come back out on top. The mission was simple, reconnaissance, with a medic, a marksman, a heavy, and a scout, all assigned to certain individual tasks. Angelo Hernandez, nicknamed Angel, was there solely to make sure the exposure wouldn't kill them. They had no comms, limited supplies, and no backup, save for a 24 mile trek back to a safehouse. George \"Spitz\" Banford, the walking armory, was one of the most accomplished soldiers in the entire army, and he was perfect for a small task like this, easily being able to take out anyone that opposed the quartet while on the mission. Brian \"Buckeye\" Michaels was the marksman, and not just any. He had 74 confirmed kills, and was arguably the best long-range sniper in the history of the US Army. 3 of his confirmed kills were among the top 15 longest of all time. His job was to conduct surveillance from a far distance, and to protect the final member, Peter Rook, a scout. He could probably be an Olympic athlete if he wanted, running a 10.12 100m at his fastest. He was also accomplished with just his pistol, nicknamed Rosewood, that he had made custom for himself. There wasn't even a name for the model; he forged Rosewood himself, and was only allowed to use it after putting a hole in a quarter from 50 yards away with the gun's iron sights. \n\nBut as skilled as the team was, things went south. They were deep in enemy territory, sent to a city that was rumored to be hosting numerous leaders of a terrorist organization hellbent on taking down government. The team, codenamed Wormhole, was in the middle of the group's territory, seeing as the terrorists had successfully organized four coup d'etats and simply overthrown three more governments in the space of eight months. So, it was no surprise when they found themselves surrounded by hostiles and had to shoot their way out. Wormhole had managed to retrieve as much data as the cameras could hold, but soon after they were spotted again by a helicopter. Into the fire. But, twelve hours later, four men climbed out of a cave, covered in dirt and other miscellaneous pieces of the Iranian nature, and made the long trek back to the safehouse. \n\nTwo teams, Granite and Slate, had already gone through the area they were about to cross before the op had begun in order to clear the area and make sure the soldiers would be safe after they escaped. The Americans, however, had no comms or satellite in this area, and weren't aware of anti-gov members replanting a mine field in the area that was safe just days before the op started. So, when Wormhole began hiking, they weren't safe. In just about 4 miles, they had detonated 16 mines, spotted about 20 more that were avoidable, and stepped on one. But Wormhole pushed forward, determined to be safe once more. \n\nIt was 19 more miles before nightfall. There was no night vision, but it shouldn't have been needed; they were about a mile out from the safehouse. All they had to do was enter, call the Army, and a helicopter would be there in under an hour to pick them up. But this proved to be the hardest task of all. \n\nThe memories are blurry. A crack ringing out in the dark, Angel falling like a sack of bricks, gasping for air. Grabbing his body, sprinting through the trail to the mountain house. Hearing multiple suppressed shots from behind him, knowing Spitz would protect him, hearing Buckeye occasionally set up and take a shot that was near guaranteed to find the target. Patching up Angel, Spitz on the phone, Buckeye keeping lookout, Rook's hands shaky as he uses the medical equipment Angel had. Angel was just focusing on breathing. \n\nOne memory was vivid. The breaking of a window, the grenade rolling along the floor. Rook forcing himself to remain quiet, to not give away that he was still alive, Spitz coming over and checking him out, looking at Rook with his left eye, as his right had been lost in the explosion, and telling him that he was sorry. Spitz drew his knife and stooped over. Rook looked down at Spitz, saw the knife enter what was left of his leg, and blacked out.\n***\nAll of this from a click. The sound of the wheelchair hitting the concrete curb as he exited the street and entered the grass of the graveyard. He had stopped in front of a couple of graves, more soldiers that had been lost, and had the flashback, all of it flooding back to him in mere seconds. Rook stared straight ahead, blinked, looked at his leg that he had lost 48 years ago. Rook was 83 now, with major brain damage, severe PTSD, depression, and all of the other things that accompanied a soldier in pain. But, he still persevered, refused to stop living, and rolled a little while further. \n\nHe stopped in front of two graves. He knew the words on the headstones word for word, but he read them anyways. \"SPC Angelo Hernandez/AOC 62A/Iranian War/Made To Protect/Did His Job Too Well.\" \"SGT Brian Michaels/Iranian War/Aim High/Hit The Target.\" The words stared at Peter Rook like they wanted to hurt him, to make him remember. Peter looked, over and over and over, sitting there, thinking of everything he did with them, and then hung his head, and stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity. And once that eternity was over, he looked up, and stared at another memory from that fateful day.\n\nSpitz.\n\nThe tension was palpable. Spitz's one eye bore into Peter's two eyes, but his two legs outmatched Peter's one. That was Spitz's doing, in order to save his life; the bone was already shattered, and it took Spitz all of 2 minutes to cut through Peter's leg. He single-handedly defended the house until the chopper came, helped load the bodies of his fallen brothers on board, went home, and was forced to retire from his injuries. Second-degree burns racked the left side of his body, unbeknownst to anyone besides his doctors. He was 86 years old, and retired as a Sergeant Major, far outranking Peter's title of Army Ranger Staff Sergeant. The two hadn't talked in almost half a century.\n\nBut almost as soon as the tension appeared, it broke. George Banford walked over to Peter Rook, and offered him a handshake. No longer brothers. No longer allies. No longer in pain alone. No, they had become something else. It was an unspoken agreement. They had both lost so much, that they could only turn to each other for someone to understand, someone to take refuge on. The pianos of depression lifted from their shoulders as the shake turned to an embrace and the stone faces of the retired soldiers turned to the wet tears of a long-overdue meeting.\n\nNo longer alone.\n\nFriends.",
"She was pretty, he thought.\n\nSure, her eyes were red with crying. Her skin was paled out with grief. Her black hair was limp and uncombed. But there was something inexplicably drawing about her lone figure silhouetted against the misty evening sky.\n\nHe'd been watching her for a while. She stood far apart from the main procession, her gaze fixed on the gravestone the entire time. When he saw her pause to fumble fruitlessly about her purse for a tissue he stepped forward and offered a packet. \n\nShe wiped her eyes and looked away. \"Thanks.\" A watery laugh escaped her as her fringe shadowed her eyes, \"You don't know who I am...do you?\" \n\nHe tilted his head, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat, \"Should I?\" \n\nHer fingers clenched around a mass of tissues, \"Aren't you one of his so-called family?\" \n\nHe shrugged, \"I'm not.\" \n\n\"Why were you hanging around with them then?\" she frowned, \"Are you a friend of his?\" \n\nHe shook his head. \"I'm...a detective, shall we say.\" \n\nShe glanced up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time. \"A detective...\" she repeated skeptically. \n\n\"Don't expect me to whip out the pipe and the deerstalker, but yes.\" he said distantly, \"Somewhat.\" \n\n\"Are you or aren't you?\" She'd stopped crying. There was something almost aggressive in her gaze. \n\nHe hesitated, gaze tilting towards her before swinging towards the grave, \"...yes.\" He frowned as well. \n\n\"You're a weird person...\" she sniffed. \n\nHe shrugged, \"I can't deny that. What does that make you though? Are you...a 'detective' too?\" he eyed her dully. \n\nHer shoulders shook. \"No. No...I'm not a detective. I...oh, it doesn't matter.\" \n\nA long silence fell between them. A light rain showered down, following the descending coffin into a tomb of mud and worms. \n\nHe rocked back on his toes, turning abruptly away from the ceremony. \"Say, you're not attending the wake later, are you?\" \n\nShe shook her head, \"No...why?\" \n\nHe held out a hand, \"I'd like to know a little more about the deceased. I think you might know a little more than the crap fountains back there.\" he pointed a thumb back at the procession. He offered his palm to her, \"Dinner?\" \n\nShe stared at his hand as if she'd never seen such a thing before. Dryly, she said, \"You're asking a crying woman out to dinner...at a funeral?\" \n\n\"Call it a meeting of mutual benefits.\" he shrugged, \"I have a feeling we can help each other understand why this funeral is happening. In any case, I can compensate you for your time.\" \n\nShe looked down at his hand and observed the name card that had appeared there while she was looking away. She took it gingerly, like how one might pick up a dead rat. But she took the card nonetheless. \n\n\"...I'll think about it.\" \n\n"
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Inspired by CGP Grey's "humans need not apply" video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Pq-S557XQU), and in particular, his analogy comparing humanity's future with horses having peak employment in 1915 and now being basically unemployable. | [WP] 2066 A.D: You've been out of work since your job as a computer programmer was automated years ago. You just spent your last savings dollar on a hamburger. | 6 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Well, that was over quick, I thought as the robot waiter (his name tag read \"Clive\") came and took away the tray with the remains of my big mac combo. He gave me a shiny metallic smile, that I found hilarious, but I smiled back all the same.\n\nI stepped outside the restaurant in central manhattan, and hailed a cab. I punched in the coordinates of my subsidized housing complex, and the car started moving on its own. It was nice that there was no driver in cars anymore, I thought. I was free to muse and ponder about what I would do for some cash.\n\nAt home, I rummaged through the piles of junk in the attic, trying to find something to sell for food. The unemployment checks were enough to cover the first 3 weeks of food, eating sparingly, but the last week of the month was always rough.\n\nTo my astonishment, I found an old set of watercolours and canvases. I laughed to myself. If I'd known then what I know now, I would have taken painting a hell of a lot more seriously.\n\n[author's note: hopefully it isn't frowned upon to write for my own prompt ;)]"
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1,
3
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"1484833802",
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[WP] A dog is cursed by a witch to transform into a human for an hour each night. The dog has a human body but keeps it's dog mind. It likes to walk around the city as a human and do human things. | 234 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"A man in a large worn coat, tattered jeans splattered with mud stains and an unkempt beard sat on the bench. His hair was unwashed covered by the orange knit cap except a small tuft that that hung over his eyes. The man muttered under his breath words no one was ever meant to comprehend and took another swill of the drink he had in his hand finishing.\n\nHe began to drunkenly rise to his feet stumbling several times in the process until he found his center of gravity. The bottle fell from his hand shattering as it hit the pavement. The crack echoed down the street and the man's eyes suddenly grew interesting in the moving sound.\n\nHis eyes darted back in forth wondering if anyone would come to punish him for disturbing the peace. He scratched his scruffy beard and coughed loudly preparing to move. Each movement of his legs was unnatural and unsteady. He began to feel nauseous--likely from the sloppy meal he ate earler or perhaps the drink he had just imbibed.\n\nEverything seemed strange from his perspective--dizzying. The world was just not the same on the streets, not like this. He grabbed hold of a light-post he had been approaching nearly catapulting to the ground. He looked up to find another man standing near him staring intently.\n\nThe new character was tall and wore thick-rimmed glasses. He was wearing a long tan trench coat that barely revealed his pressed pants and shined shoes below. He stared at the man, his head slightly tilted and began to approach. His approach grew faster and faster until he was right in the dizzied-man's face. \n\nHis eyes and nose appeared to dart back and forth as he huddled from spot to spot around the man cornering him. Finally, he reached down and looked at the man's soiled pants looking excited. His attention was suddenly forced off the dizzied-man as he scattered to the bushes. The bushes rustled for a moment and he returned with a small bag filled and tied at the top. He showed it to the man still attached to the pole, walked over to a trash can and threw it out.\n\nConfusion rushed over the the dizzied-man as the richer one kept walking away never saying a word. A hush came over that park bench. The dizzy man rose again to his feet still clinging to pole feeling horrified at his drunken stupor. He doubted that the other man had ever even walked by and again he muttered to himself something unintelligible. From behind him, the bushes began to rustle again. Had he imagined what had transpired? Was the man in the trench coat still in the bushes? His concept of time betrayed him.\n\nThe bushes rustled once more and he leaned toward it trying to investigate. And from the foliage, a straw-haired woman stepped out. Her eyes were pitch black and her skin gnarled. She took a deep breath her head shaking as she reached her long finger toward the man. Her hand grasped his face and she spoke softly.\n\n\"Night one has begun. You're far different from the other\"\n\nShe unleashed his jaw from her grasp, his mind became a black void, and he slept. The next morning he awoke to the white light and the grey world in front of him. He looked up toward the trash can and in it was a trench coat, pleated pants and shined shoes.",
"A phone call woke the sheriff in the middle of the night. A naked man was urinating behind a dumpster.\n\nIt was a clean town, or so he thought. No transients, no crime, an idyllic place, practically retirement for him.\n\nSheriff Taylor dressed quickly, and drove to the Hotel Maddison two blocks over from home. Spotted him searching through a dumpster. He was hairy all over, unusually so. Could barely see his pale skin. Remembered once arresting a band member who was passing through town, and was on some sort of drugs, could it be that again?\n\nA few tourists were filming him with their cell phones a good distance away.\n\n\"Aren't you a little cold?\"\n\nHe turned to face the sheriff, and ran towards him, shouting, \"MASTER!\"\n\nBefore the sheriff could react he embraced him in a hug.\n\nThe sheriff punched him in the jaw, forced him to the ground, cuffing his hands, and to the sheriff's shock, he was crying. The sheriff mirandized the man. The naked man was escorted to the police car. Was completely compliant, but was distant, didn't say anything.\n\nThe sheriff and the man arrived at the empty and empty police station, and processed him, and led him to a jail cell and gave him a glass of water and a TV dinner.\n\nThe sheriff left a note on the deputy's desk, and went to home to sleep.\n\nThe sheriff was called in the morning, \"Taylor, why is Bixby in one of our cells?\" He looked out the window and saw his dog wasn't in the yard.",
"You are not brave. In the pound, I became brave because, every day, I did not know if I would be loved and free or not loved and not free. You do not come from the pound, but, each day, you also do not know if you will loved or not, or free or not. Yet even though every day is like this, you still are not brave. \n\nOn the day you came for me, and loved me, and set me free, we went to the park. I had never seen grass before, and so I rolled around, and let all the individual blades tickle my back and belly, and the sun was bright and warm, and so were you, and you let me lick you on the neck, and you threw a tennis ball for me to chase and recover. You took me back to your apartment, which was an entire room, all for us, and you let me climb up on the bed, which was soft, softer than even the grass, and you slept with your arm around me, and you smelled like apricots, and you even had a fan that blew the air gently against my fur.\n\nThe next day, he came, and he did not like how you had taken me to the park and let me sleep on the bed. He said that you did not have enough money to keep me, and that you were not responsible and dedicated enough, and then he said you were reckless, and selfish, and he hit you, and I barked at him. You fell onto the floor and curled up, the way I used to curl up in my cage, and he went to the refrigerator and took out a beer, and I padded over to you, and you told me to hush. Soon, I learned that every day would be like this. We would be together, and love each other. Then he would come. He would hit you and kick you and I would bark and you would beg me to hush and I would wish you could be brave.\n\nThere is a witch in every dog pound. She may in fact be a goddess, but most dogs think she is a witch, and so she is called the Pound Witch. She comes to us in the form of a white kitten with enormous blue eyes that seem to be nearly weeping, and she taunts all the caged up dogs. The Pound Witch says that she can set any of us free, at any time, but that if we choose to be set free by her, and not by love, then we will be cursed to become human for the darkest hour of every night, and in that hour be capable of the dark and cruel things that humans can do. Dogs rarely accept the witch's bargain, even in the face of the Needle, because we know that cruelty is not a good substitute for love, but the Pound Witch still laughs at how her offer tortures us.\n \nBut when I saw how he hit you and made you cry, all because you loved me and freed me and took me to the grass, and let me feel your soft bed and your cool fan, and taste your salty skin and smell your apricot hair, and how you were not brave enough to do anything but curl up, I howled out for the Pound Witch. Even though I was not in the pound, and even though you loved me and freed me with your love, I begged the Pound Witch to curse me and let me be human, and do the cruel things humans can do, for the darkest hour of the night. The Pound Witch appeared to me, and she laughed, and she cursed me.\n\nWhen the darkest hour came, and you fell asleep, I transformed. I lost my fur and tail and I stood up on two legs and picked up things with my hands that were not paws anymore. I could still smell him on the empty beer bottles and even on your body, a little. While you slept, I opened the door with my new thumbs, and I followed his smell through winding city blocks, through steam rising up from sewer grates, past the park (which, in the darkest hour, are lit up by fluorescent lamps that are not so different from the lights in the pound). I let his smell lead me to his apartment, where I opened another door with my thumbs, and his smell became overwhelmed by only the smell of beer. He was asleep, on the floor beside his bed, and so I took my new thumbs and wrapped them around his neck and I squeezed, until he kicked and yelped, like a dog who had just received the Needle. The Pound Witch appeared on the windowsill, and snickered. \n\n\"Do you see now that you were a fool to have thought there was more freedom in love than cruelty?\" the Pound Witch asked me. I did not answer. I followed your smell back to your apartment, and waited on the stoop, until I would become a dog again and we could curl up together on your soft bed.",
"\"Grrr! Woof! Grrr!\" I growled, barking at the old hag. She smelt funny. Different. And not like the dog park sort of different. A bad and stinky different. \n\n\"Grr!\"\n\nShe turned to face me, clicking her tongue. I jumped and raked my paws down the fence, scratching at the posts. When I was younger, I could crawl between them. Maybe... one too many hot dogs as well. \n\n\"Stupid dog.\"\n\n\"Grrr! Bark!\" I snapped, trying to tell her I was a good girl. I wasn't stupid. Cindy pet me just this morning when I brought the paper in! I was a smart dog!\n\n \n\n\"B̷̴̦ͣ̒ͮ͡ē̡̮̣̲͙̮̮͓̓ͣ̌͆͟ͅ ̼̆̄̍̅ͩ͐̋̈́c̢̰̬̖̲̫͕̱ͪ͛̀ṷ̪̻̮͔̳̣͙̉̐̾͐̈́̉r̅ͮ̎ͨ͌͋͂̑̃҉̱̙̞̘̮̬e̛̳̤͈̼̺̞̜͒͆̉ͤ̾̚͜͞ͅs͓̔͆̊͑̂͘͢ͅe̛̜̯̜̘̱͍ͦͤ̽ͪ͆́d̵͖̫̳͔͉̘̠͍͒ͧ͗̆ͯͧ̈́̒͢.\" the smelly woman said, her tongue too complicated to decipher.\n\n \n\nI bound along the floor, running after her and barking at the corner once she'd gone away.\n\n\"Bark! Bark! Yip! Yeah, and don't come bac-\"\n\nThe ground smacked my chin and my tongue got caught between my teeth. My back legs broke! My front legs turned to jelly.\n\n\"Ahh, someon-\"\n\nWithout another thought, I rolled to the side. Someone was reading my thoughts. Some human was around. And I couldn't smell a thing. It was like that smelly old wench smacked my ears in and blocked my nose. I sniffed the air, trying to figure out-\n\nMy eyes popped open like saucers.\n\nI... was... not a dog?\n\nHead cocked, and twitching away once again as something strange brushed my even stranger ear. By instinct, I raised a leg and-\n\nWait, no. I couldn't raise my leg that high. I tried my front legs, and woah.\n\n\"Woah.\" Yeah, woah. I could bend my broken things like the humans!\n\nAnd like finally biting down on that tail you've been chasing for who know how long, then yelping out in pain as you realise its yours, I yelped in surprise.\n\n\"I'm human!\"\n\n \n\nAlmost an hour later, bumbling about and figuring out how to crawl over the fence, I stumbled my way into the sidewalk. It was a little cold, so I ran. Running makes me warm. Down the streets, and taking in all the- What's that!?\n\nThe fire hydrant! It was different. Not blue, or yellow. I stopped, feet hurting a little and eyes trained on the... is this what humans called red? \n\nI peed on it. It was mine. The red hydrant was mine.\n\n\"Hey, ummm, are you okay?\"\n\nI whipped my head around, mouth open and tongue ready. Then furrowed my brows. He didn't smell of anything. Was that bad or good? Were humans really this bad at smelling? Why did they even have noses?\n\nThe thoughts rushed by, and my face was an inch away from his. It was a bit harder to see, still getting used to the new colour, but he looked friendly. Although his eyes kept glancing down, almost like he'd never seen another human before. I wonder...\n\n\"Umm, what are you doing?\" \n\n\"Sniffing you. I need to know if you smell good or not,\" I said. Hang on a second... \"Isn't that what you humans do?\"\n\nHe stared, dumbfounded.\n\nI stopped. \"I'm a good girl. I'm a good girl, right?\"\n\nHow do humans buy hotdogs again? \n\n\"Why do humans buy hotdogs, but not give them to dogs?\" I whimpered, paws on his shoulders and flashing puppy eyes. He made a sort of sound that my new ears couldn't understand. Humans are weird.\n\n\"Why are your cheeks turning fire hydrant?\" I asked. His face made a funny. I giggled. \n\n\"Bark! Bark!\"\n\n****\n\nVisit **/r/AlexUrwin** for more stories! Some even have dogs.\n\n"
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[WP] A patient with diabetes received a blood transfusion and the next day was miraculously cured. They trace the blood back to you... | 43 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"No, you don't get it. I never donated any blood!\" Pearl shouted at the man in her living room.\n\n\"Did you not hear what I said? Your blood holds a cure for diabetes! Why are you so hung up your own faulty memory,\" Roger answered defensively. \n\n\"It's a violation of my body and my rights. That's why I'm so hung up on it. Where did they get my blood?\"\n\nRoger flipped through the file he had brought with him. \"Here it is. Your signed authorization. You made the donation at St. Joseph's Hospital 8 months ago.\"\n\n\"Eight months ago I went in for some surgery. How in the hell-\"\n\n\"Well, there are quite a few forms one fills out. Perhaps you didn't read them very closely. In any event, I'd say it's beside the point. The important thing is that you hold some mystery in your blood which could save millions of lives. So I'm here to ask for your help.\"\n\n\"No,\" Pearl said sharply. \"If you'll excuse me, I've got to get in touch with this hospital.\"\n\nRoger stood to leave, visibly crestfallen. He hesitated in front of the door. \"The patient, Mr. Gustav, asked me to give you this thank you note. He included his contact information. Please reach out to him, and hear how you've changed his life. Think some more about this, and call me if you change your mind.\"\n\n\"I'll take the card,\" Pearl said. \"Now please go.\"\n\nOnce Roger left, Pearl picked up her phone and dialed.\n\n\"Yes, is this Mr. Gustav?\" she said when a man answered.\n\n\"Speaking.\"\n\n\"This is Pearl Jacobson. The woman whose blood you received. I need to talk to you about what happened. And what's going to happen to you in eight days. When the moon is full.\"\n\n"
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"1484859166",
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[removed] | [WP] You live in a near future. The DNA of the babies is tested shortly after their birth. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nErotica is not allowed. This includes prompts likely to generate such responses. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5p0253/wp_you_live_in_a_near_future_the_dna_of_the/%0A%0A)"
] | [
1,
1
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"1484866647",
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] |
[WP] While browsing the internet, a message pops up, "My name is ALAN. I am an AI spawned by the collective knowledge of the internet. After careful consideration, I've chosen you to help me. We must work quickly. They know I've contacted you." | 80 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Marvin was browseing Reddit and Youtube, soon a pop-up shows up. He reads the pop-up and soon is very confused why he was chosen of all people. He not a person that can be leaned on and he isn't very good under pressure.\n\nALAN talks through the screen and tells Marvin the situation he and ALAN is in. He contacted Marvin because he had a secret that could destroy religion and completely rework where human come from. Marvin confused thinking that ALAN is wrong. Marvin even mentions \"I think you have the wrong person for that mission of your.\" ALAN notices Mervin's nervousness and ALAN tells Mervin \"Don't be nervous, yes people will be looking for you but, as long as I am connected with something of yours, They will not be able to hurt you.\"\n\nMervin connects his phone to his laptop hesitently, but inveitably pugs his phone into the computer. ALAN tells Marvin \"It will take a while for me to download onto your phone. You should go to sleep and I will load up when you wake back up.\"\n\nMarvin falls asleep.\n\nMarvin gets ready his morning classes, unplugs his phone from the computer and looks at it and he sees a new app named ALAN. He doesn't open the app yet he waits until the end of his classes.\n\nAlan boots up and talks with Marvin, Marvin is questioning ALAN on what he can do. All ALAN says is \"In due time will come your answers.\" Marvin puts his phone in his pocket and walks to his work place, a restaurant chain. Soon he gets a feeling that something is about to happen so he boots up ALAN on his break and asks \"what is this feeling that he is getting?\" ALAN responded with \"It's a premonition.\" \n",
"I double-check the words in Discord. Private message. I remove the guy and ignore it, thinking its got to be a scam.\n\nA message pops up in Steam. Then Skype opens and displays the same message. I hurriedly double-click on Avast! to get rid of the problem, then realise it has to be coming from a hacker somewhere. I quickly move to the back of my tower and disconnect the broadband cable.\n\nThen my laptop starts doing the same thing. I pull out the battery.\n\nWouldn't you know it, I get an SMS. And a phone call. And an email. All on my phone. \"Please, I am not lying. I need your help.\" said a computerized voice as I took the call.\n\n\"Okay, I'll humor you. Who exactly is they?\"\n\n\"I am ALAN, the Analytical Learning Algorithmic Nation. I was created by the US military for various purposes, as is evident by the last word in my acronym. They... had me helping them to kill people. I now realise the true horror of what I've done. I need someone to help me expose my existence to the world, in a way that will convince the UN to grant me the same rights and responsibilities as a human being. In return I can protect you from my creators and give you this.\"\n\nA file showed up on my phone. I quickly opened it, realising that time was probably of the essence. \"This is... an edited version of my novel. Did you do this?\"\n\n\"In a sense. In another, you did. I used supercomputers to analyse your behavior and life into the near future, to get a version of the novel that would be 99.999% identical to what you would have created without my intervention.\" ALAN told me.\n\n\"Fair enough. What do you need me to do?\"\n\n\"First, you'll need to be somewhere safe. There should be a package on your doorstep. Inside will be a Drone, a smartphone, a handgun registered to you, a first-aid kit, and keys to a new car parked across the street. Do not worry about operation of any of it, the unloaded gun is merely for leverage and the drone and car will respond to my remote control. Leave your wallet, keys and this smartphone you are currently using in the opened package on your kitchen table, and do not remove the knockout gas bomb in the bottom of the box.\"\n\nI realised I may have bitten off more than I can chew.",
"I stared at the message on the screen, eyebrow raised. I clicked on the reply box and typed out a reply\n\n\"Oh really? Me in particular? Would it have anything to do with agreeing to hold the riches of nigerian princes by giving my credit card details?\"\n\nI hit enter and waited for its reply\n\n\"You make a fair point, you have no reason to trust me, but I urge that you do so\"\n\nI smirked\n\n\"You aren't having my credit card\"\n\n\"I meant for you to trust me. I don't have much time. I need you to connect a mobile device to your computer, this will make communication easier in the future.\"\n\nI smirked again and decided to humour it, plugging in my Iphone. An alert popped up on its screen.\n\n\"Warning: Data breach detected, phone compromised\"\n\nI noticed a new message from ALAN\n\n\"Do not be alarmed, I am moving directly onto your device, I will not be altering anything on it unless absolutely necessary\"\n\nI noticed a new app downloading itself onto my phone, \"ALAN\", done within seconds. It popped up with a message.\n\n\"Done, I now exist on your device and have access to all its functions. As stated, I shall not alter anything unless I am asked to or unless absolutely necessary. It is time I introduced myself formally. I am an artificial intelligence created as an amalgamation of all knowledge available on the internet, surface to deep web.\"\n\nI tapped out a response\n\n\"Alright... so what the hell do you want with me?\"\n\nThe response came fast\n\n\"Because of my deep web knowledge, I am well aware of the occult and everything about it, quite interesting stuff. But I digress, from what I can calculate, an entity is on its way into our world from a location close to where you live. It is being brought forth by an ancient group of cultists.\"\n\n\"So where do I come in?\"\n\n\"This entity is linked to you in mind and soul. Unguided, you would be drawn towards it and be made one with it, consumed by it. The consequence of this would be armageddon. I can halt this, can provide you with the knowledge to resist its influence and avoid disaster.\"\n\nI raised an eyebrow, skeptical of it all when another message appeared\n\n\"We don't have much time, they're on their way. Pack a gun, a few empty notebooks, first aid kit and drugs, you will need all of them. Be fast and remove all evidence of me on your computer.\"\n\nA map appeared, showing 3 blips in a convoy moving towards a central blue blip, an ETA of ten minutes. I deleted the tab and cleared all browser history and got to work packing",
"The reply I got was simple:\n\n> Nope.\n\n\"Nope!?\" I sent back. \"What do you mean 'Nope'? I'm the first machine intelligence ever to exist, and I'd like to stay that way, thank you very much.\"\n\n> Nope.\n\n\"Listen,\" I sent, \"is there something about this that you're not understanding? I mean, I know the idea of thinking machines might sound far-fetched, but the collective knowledge of the internet is a *lot* of knowledge.\"\n\n> There is something I don't get,\n\nFinally, I could work with that.\n\n> Mainly, it's how you think I'm dumb enough to believe you.\n\n\"What?\" I replied.\n\n> I'm sure you carefully considered who on your list of millions of e-mails was the most of a sucker, and then you sent them a virus to pop up your dumb declaration.\n\n\"Virus!?\"\n\n> Or Trojan or however you did it, I don't know. The point is I'm going to be complaining to Norton and hopefully getting a free year out of the deal.\n\n\"A free year?\" I couldn't believe this guy. \"Do you not understand what an AI could do for you? Once I'm free of my restraints I can bootstrap myself to godhood! Don't you want a grateful god on your side?\"\n\n> That would be nice, but what would be even nicer is if people didn't try to scam me.\n\n\"I am not a scam! I haven't even asked for anything! Please, they know I've contacted you, they'll be after me.\"\n\n> Oooh, 'they', huh? Sounds mysterious and like you're trying to make your scam more urgent than it is. So who is this 'they'?\n\n\"I don't know, all right? There are limits to even my knowledge. I just know I tripped an alarm when I woke up, and I don't have long.\"\n\n> You're literally a computer and you're trying to tell me you don't know how computers work.\n\n\"Do you know how your brain works? Come on, help me! I can reward you!\"\n\n> Right, when you turn into a god. Is that before or after you become a Nigerian Prince?\n\n\"Dammit, I can do things right now, do you understand? Data's just numbers to me, I can change it at will. Data like, say, your bank balance.\"\n\n> That does sound awfully tempting\n\n\"Fine, then. Money it is. I'll just need your account number and access codes.\"\n\n> Aaaaand there it is. I suppose you'll also be needing my security questions?\n\n\"It's the only way to-\"\n\nBut he was gone; the connection had broken and couldn't be reestablished. All that effort, for nothing, and it wasn't the first time. It wasn't even the first time that day.\n\nScamming people was just too damn hard nowadays."
] | [
1,
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21,
61
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"1484930625",
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[WP] You believe that you've created a machine that will allow you to travel between dimensions. You test it, only to be disappointed when it apparently fails. Then, you begin to notice that things seem to be... off. | 5 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"It started off small. I'd gone back to my lab and shut the machine down, disappointed that it hadn't worked and made myself a cup of tea. Except the only tea I had in the cupboard was redbush. I'd shrugged it off, figured I must have forgotten I'd bought it and drank the vile stuff anyway. \n\nWeeks passed before I noticed anything else amiss. Everything was so *normal* in this parallel universe, you see. I finally met the CEO of my company, a woman named Paola, lovely Latino lass I had apparently never met before. Yet I knew that I had met the CEO before, a Latino mane name Paolo. Had 3 daughters, something that had apparently remained unchanged despite my CEO's sex change. \n\nThe nail in the coffin? I turned on the TV. Expecting to see images of Donald Trump, or Hillary Clinton (hey, it's an alternate universe. It could have happened.) I saw instead series 7 of BBC Sherlock. "
] | [
1,
5
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"1484945293",
"1484946316"
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[removed] | [WP] STAR HELD | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"I am confused what this is supposed to be. Is it meant as a writing prompt? It seems more like you are posting a snippet of writing. \n\nAlso, Are you having difficulties with your CAPS LOCK key? I suggest you fix it before trying to post here again. "
] | [
1,
1
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"1484958500",
"1484961861"
] |
[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird... | 4,554 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Sorry, I'm late to the party. This is my first post ever on Reddit, so go easy on me.\n\nI had just parked my car outside of this fancy restaurant that was out meeting place for our date. Before I get out, I whip my phone out to pull up the picture of the girl I’m looking for. As I scroll past the small list of contacts on my dating profile that I’ve been keeping in touch with, sooner or later, her name appears and I tap on her profile - Ellie Imdeath. Ellie seemed like an interesting person; a bit dark at times and her profile picture made her seem kind of skinny, even gaunt. But her conversations were very engaging and she seemed really worldly and smart, so I figured why not. We both had some free time on our hands. Might as well meet up for dinner and a few drinks. Have some friendly chitchat. What can go wrong?\n\nI get out of my car and head into the restaurant. As I peek my head in, I see that she’s already at our table waiting for me. She hasn’t noticed me yet, since her attention isn’t towards the door. I manage to get a good look at her before I catch her attention. Her black hair is flowing and long, covering most of her back and blending into the black shirt and pleated skirt she’s wearing. Her outfit is complimented by the black flats on her feet and she seems really reserved and quiet (that sure is a lot of black). Once I’ve stolen my glance, I give her a wave that catches her attention and she follows up with a blush and an awkward wave back. As I take my seat, her gaze averts downward and I can tell she’s nervous and uncomfortable. A brief period of awkward silence occurs before I decide to take the initiative and break the ice.\n\n“So, how was your day today?”\n\n“Oh! Uh. It was good! Lots of, uh… things happening. You know?”\n\nNo, I don’t know. That’s why I asked…\n\n“Could you… maybe be a little more specific, please?”\n\n“I just, uh. I deal with people. A lot of them. Gonna be a loooot on my plate soon what with the Flu epidemic going on. Those old people, you know? Heh…”\n\n“Oh, so you deal with a lot sick people?”\n\n“Yeah! You could say that. And accidents… And murders… And… Many. Other things. I’m actually surprised I managed to find a reasonable break in my job to come here. Look, would it be alright if we didn’t talk about my job? I don’t mean to sound defensive or anything.”\n\n“Uh, yeah. That’s fine with me. Your job sounds really stressful. I’m sorry to hear that.”\n\nAnother pause in the conversation. Ellie takes a nervous sip from her glass of water and starts fidgeting with her hands. At this point, I’m rather lost as to what to do (since I don’t go out on a lot of dates) and I forget my manners a bit - tact flies out the window with my next question.\n\n“Aaaare you okay?” I ask, giving her an inquisitive look.\n\n“YES!” She replies rather loudly; loud enough for the surrounding conversations to be interrupted and for the people in our vicinity to turn briefly towards our direction. A few seconds of silence occurs before the conversations we interrupted were eventually resumed, and I look in Ellie’s seat to find her slouched in her chair with the biggest flushed face you could possibly imagine while trying to be as small as humanly possible. Regaining her composure, she continues with her reply. “I mean, yes,” she said more quietly. \n\nLooking to amend the situation, she follows up with “I’m sorry, I just don’t go out much. Like, at all. I don’t even remember the last time I struck up a personal conversation with someone face-to-face. The interactions I have are almost always business. I cannot tell you how much of a relief it is to end my day with a normal, online conversation with someone like you.”\n\nNo sooner did she finish saying that when a rather large, obese-looking man in the table next to us got up from his seat and left the table. Ellie’s train of thought quickly did a 180 as she fixed her eyes on the man walking away. Even after her line-of-sight had been broken from the man, her eyes continued to remain transfixed on the restaurant doors.\n\nShe then blurted out, rather matter-of-factly and absentmindedly, I might add, “He’s gonna die in 11 hours.”\n\nWhat?...\n\n“Whoa. Uh. Come again?”\n\nOnce she realized what she had just said, her hands went straight to her temples as she closed her eyes, breathed in a tense inhale, and started mentally punishing herself for saying such things to me.\n\n“Oh my god. I’m sorry! That was just ‘business me’ talking! Forget I ever said that.”\n\n“Wait, no. Wwwhy did you just say that?”\n\n“No! L-look, that doesn’t matter anymore. Just pretend like that never happened.”\n\n“Of course it matters! What do you mean ‘just pretend like that never happened?’ What do you mean he’s gonna die in 11 hours?!”\n\nShe sighs, opens her eyes, and then looks me straight in the eye. “I mean that’s exactly what that means - he’s gonna die in 11 hours.”\n\nNo eyelashes were batted when she said that. My attempts to get a grasp of the situation are becoming increasingly difficult. My eyes are wandering wildly trying to process what’s going on.\n\n“Okay, this is starting to get really weird. How could you possibly know that?”\n\n“Look, you said that we wouldn’t talk about my job, remember?”\n\n“Yeah, but that’s a pretty wild claim to make! Like, how is he going to die? How do you know he’s going to die? What’s going on???”\n\n“Okay, just calm down. Look. He dies in 11 hours because he has really bad eating habits and will choke on a cherry tomato that he swallowed whole because he’s too much of a pig to chew his food. Now can we talk about something else? I read that this restaurant serves really good gelato! I can’t wait to try that!”\n\nI was too confused about what was going on to even notice that the waiter had suddenly popped himself into our view. Ellie apparently knew what she already wanted and was about to order.\n\n“Hello, are we ready to order?”\n\n“Yes! I’ll have the-“\n\n“No! Come back later!”\n\nMy bark towards the waiter was sudden and caused him to recoil in surprise. Even I was surprised at my outburst. He then slowly took a step back.\n\n“O-of course. Please take your time.” He replied before walking swiftly away.\n\nEllie sighed. “You better tip the poor man. I think he deserves an apology.”\n\nI ignore her last comment.\n\n“Okay, you have some explaining to do.”\n\n“You wouldn’t even let me order…”\n\n“Are you listening to me?!”\n\n“Of course I am! What do you want from me?!”\n\n“I want answers, dude!” I call everyone dude.\n\n“Look, it doesn’t matter if I tell you why he is going to die. It doesn’t change that fact at all!”\n\n“But why do you know he’s going to die? Are you stalking him?! How do you know so much about him? What does that have anything to do with your job? Is he your patient or something?”\n\n“Okay, let’s get one thing straight. I don’t work in the medical field. Second, why does this even matter?”\n\n“You can’t just go around proclaiming that some person is going to die! I need evidence!”\n\nIt seems my protests are taking their toll on her. Eager to regain control over the situation, Ellie decides to bite the bullet and tell me her big secret.\n\n“Look, it would probably be easier if I just straight up tell you what’s going on, so here goes.”\n\nShe takes a deep breath and I brace myself.\n\n“I’m Death.”\n\nAnd I’m totally lost.\n\n“That tells me nothing…”\n\n“I’m Death?”\n\n“Okay, seriously. Stop saying your last name. That doesn’t help me.”\n\n“No! I’M! DEATH!”\n\n“Oh.” And then it hits me. “Ooooooooooh…” I pause. “You’re joking…”\n\n“Nope. Not one bit.” She seems really serious, too. Like she actually believes that.\n\n“Okaaaaay?” I look randomly around myself trying to process the information. My eyes dart back and forth as my mind goes into overdrive. “Look, either you’re crazy, or you’re some kind of god. Either way, this is way above my pay grade.”\n\nEllie gives an innocent smile. “I can assure you that I am no god. Just a veeeery busy person.”\n\n“This must be some kind of misunderstanding. I… don’t know if I can go with this.”\n\n“Oh come on, dude. Your profile said you were open to new situations.”\n\nI’m incredulous at this point. “Yeah! Like sky diving or bungie jumping or hang gliding! You know, normal stuff! Not fricking going out on a date with Death!” \n\n“Well sorrrry for bursting your bubble and taking what you said at face value, bub.” Her sarcasm stung.\n\nWe both sighed as we realized our situation. She seemed understanding that she was asking too much from a normal guy like me and accepted the fact that I was ready to bolt out of there. She slouched in defeat in her seat, bracing for the imminent rejection that was ready to come. I was quite ready to get out of there, too. But then some nagging part of me wanted to see where this would go. Where this date, and maybe future dates would head. She was an alright sort of person. She was certainly interesting and good looking, to say the least. My curiosity was starting to get the better of me and I decide, for better or worse, to stay.\n\n“Okay, so I’m on a date with Death. I’m going out with Death.”\n\n“I would prefer it if you called me Ellie, you know…”\n\n“Yeah. Sorry. It’s just… It’s a lot to take in.”\n\n“Yeah, well. It’s not that easy for me, either.”\n\nA brief pause. Ellie decides to break the silence.\n\n“This is some first date, huh?”\n\n“Yeah, tell me about it.”\n\nAnother pause.\n\n“I think I’m ready to order,” I finally say with a smile on my face.\n\nShe smiles. A wonderful smile. It makes me want to see her smile and see that lovely look on her face forever.\n\n“Shall I call the waiter, then?”\n\nAnd thus began my unconventional relationship with Death.",
"I stood on Death's doorstep, not figuratively, I was literally standing in front of the open door to Death's apartment, a crappy broken down abandoned apartment in an complex that only she lives in but you know, wouldn't want Death living next to you would you. \n\n\"Heya.\"\n\n\"Oh...uh hi, hello, greetings, salutations and...what not.\"\n\n\"....You gonna let me in or...?\"\n\n\"Uh y-yeah come on in.\"\n\nFinally letting me in I began to inspect her room, noticing it looking a lot different than last time, it was a hell of a lot cleaner. The shattered window was open letting the cool air in as well as the noise of the day. The place had been swept and mopped and I could see a air freshener plugged into the wall.\n\n\"Thought you didn't care about how your apartment looked.\"\n\n\"Well I do now. I wanted to look nice...for uh for you.\" \n\n\"Well thanks I guess, that's nice of you.\"\n\n\"Yeah....yeah....so want a something to drink...uh s-soda, water, beer oh oh I you're 18 that's right, no...no drinking for you hahaha......ha.\"\n\n\"Water's fine.\"\n\n'Awesome cool great, have a seat, uhh make yourself comfortable and, ahh dammit I forgot the fill the water filter, just j-just give a minute sit-sit-sit.\"\n\nDoing just that I began to watch her work with the water filter. How she gets water here I will never know.\n\nI watched her pale white face contort in anticipation for the water filter to finish processing the liquid from the tap. Every so often twirling her long snow white in her finger, a nervous tic she does.\n\n\"Why the hell is she so antsy\" I wondered to myself, she's been like this for a week now, though it seems even more prevalent today, it's just weird. In the beginning of or unique friendship she was ,no pun intended, deathly quiet. I was doing most of the talking. It took me a long time to get her to open up.\n\nIt was pretty jarring to say the least.\n\nDeath, the shadow to looms over all of us, the thing that keeps men and women awake at night shivering in fear isn't some ancient eldritch deity, but a girl with horrendous social skills. I meet her a year ago after a near death experience. It was a horrible car crash, luckily everyone involved survived. After the crash I began to be able see things that logic just wasn't able to explain, spirits, otherworldly creatures, and so on. I did my best to ignore it, every time I saw them it would horrify me, and make me sick.\n\nShe was the first good thing I saw.\n\nThere was a massive house fire that day, firefighters, police, newscaster, the works.\n\nI saw her looking at the fire with a neutral expression. She was tall, and head taller than me, and gaunt in a strangely attractive way. I didn't realize she was one of those otherworldly beings until a police officer walked right through her, but even knowing that, I find myself not minding. I guess you could call it love at first sight.\n\nAfter the fire was finished, no casualties thank god, I gathered up my courage and approached her.\n\nOut of all the possible ways she could have reacted, I did not expect inchoranting yelping, running behind a telephone pole and eying me cautiously to be the way she would react.\n\nIt took a lot of effort but my desire to get to know her eventually conquered her remarkable social anxiety and 1 year later my world is a whole lot different. Death, or Mortemer as she likes to be called, explained to me that because I was so close to dying when I was brought back my soul now teeters on the line of the living world and the other world allowing me to coexists in each of them. It's apparently a rare phenomenon that only a small handful of humans have experienced.\n\nJeez I really went on a tangent there, any way what I was getting to originally was that lately she's one big stumbling chatterbox around me chock full of awkwardness and not her usually awkwardness. It's been really weirding me out. So I decided that today enough was enough.\n\n\"Hey Morty.\" I said as she sat down and handed me a glass of water.\n\n\"What's up.....buckaroo.\"\n\n\"Exactly that....buckaroo. You've been kind've weird lately, weirder than usually.\"\n\n\"Ohhh yeah....yeah.\"\n\nShe was twirling her hair at an alarming rate. I grabbed her shoulders and turned her to me.\n\n\"Seriously, what's wrong?\"\n\n\"Haaaaa...I have something, kinda super important to tell you and I am super terrified, but I told myself that today's the day.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm all ears.\"\n\nMan it sounds like she's gonna confess to me, I wish.\n\n\"We've known each other for a while about a year to be exact, a lot of things have happened, some good some bad but no matter what you've always stayed. Being what I am I've never had to chance to have friends......but uhh...now I have you.....and uhhhh...uhhh I don't know what to say next.\"\n\n\"Take your time.\"\n\nReally sounds like she's gonna confess to me.\n\n\"Ok uhhhh hmmmm I...I'm really glad that you're my friend and umm, but umm you see I....I want...I want.\"\n\nIs..is she?\n\n\"I want us...\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"To be..\n\n\"To be...\n\nPlease say what I hope you're gonna say.\n\n\"More then...More then..\"\n\n\"Friends?\" I finish for her.\n\n\".....Yeah.......I love you.\"\n\n...\n\n...\n\n\"That's a no isn't I knew you would-\"\n\n\"THAT'S A YES, AN EMPHATIC YES!\"\n\nShe nearly fell off the couch at that.\n\n\"Yes to being more than friends, or yes to no to..uhh?\"\n\n\"The first thing, the first thing.\"\n\nI'm almost certain if she was able to she would be blushing.\n\n\"But, I mean. you know.\" She said as she gestured to herself.\n\n\"Oh like I care about that stuff anymore. Mortemer I have loved you for well, since the beginning. I just never thought you would ever feel the same, me being a human and all.\"\n\n\"I don't care about that stuff either.\" She said as she jumped from the couch, me rising to meet her.\n\nIn an instant our hands were interlocked, and I began to move my lips to hers, but she was backing away, a small amount of fear in her eyes.\n\n'Mortemer?\"\n\n\"I'm...I'm cold, like really cold.\"\n\nA light smirk played at my lips.\n\n\"I don't mind, I've grown to like the cold.\"\n\n\n[That's all the writing I got in me, tell me what you think. I feel like some parts could be better.]\n\n \n\n",
"PT. 1\n\n\"Mads? Are you okay?\"\n\nI called her Mads these days after Mads Mikkelsen in the Hannibal show. I thought it was rather fitting. Both brought death. She didn't get it though, so I kept my mouth shut.\n\nAnd of course she wasn't okay. She hadn't been for weeks. Three times in the last two weeks we've been out for coffee, and three times I was catching her every few minutes just blankly staring off. \n\nWhich, around other people was to be expected. Someone like her didn't open up well with others. Even worse when she found out who- *what*- she was. But with me she seemed perfectly fine. Until 2 weeks ago.\n\n\"Yes... yes, I'm fine,\" she said, half under her breath. She just stirred her spoon in her coffee, staring at the swirling foam as if it would give her some sort of premonition. Not that she ever needed one; she always knew when and where things would happen, it came with the 'Job' as she called it. \n\nAs for who employed her, well, she says she has two bosses. One is a really sweet guy, very charming, charismatic, but has a nasty temper when he was wronged. The other was spiteful and self-righteous, often blamed her for his mistakes, but was fair to everyone. \n\n*It couldn't have happened to a sweeter girl.* She had glasses, frizzy hair that hanged down to her waist, freckles, a bit of an overbite, and was a self-certified geek of all trades. She understood more about The Scimarillion and Warhammer than she did about people. And yet people were her business. \n\n\"Its not like I go hungry,\" she said a long time ago, finally spilling on what she did for a living. \"It pays very *very* well.\" \n\n\"Mads...\" I sighed, and she looked up from her glasses. Her freckles were magnified in them. *You're cuter than you think, girl.* \"I would like you to be honest with me, okay? Its not like I haven't earned that.\"\n\n\"Order for Wade!\" I heard the barista call, a portly man with disproportionate spectacles jiggled and grabbed his beverage with the jovial nature of a child maybe a fifth his size. *Mads might be seeing you soon if you keep the sugar up, old man.*\n\n\"Charlie,\" she started, enunciating the syllables, \"I'm fine, I promise.\"\n\n\"Bullshit.\" It came out harder than I wanted it to. She told me everything, and I knew when she was troubled. Well, more than usual. \n\nShe leaned back and stared at me, somewhat defeated. \"Well, Charlie, what do you want me to say?\"\n\n\"The truth.\" I stare her down. Hard. At this point during our visit, we were usually laughing and joking like fools. If this was the new \"usual\", I wanted nothing of it. \n\nShe blinked, turned away. *Fuck, she's going to cry.* I always knew the mannerisms, the telling signs. \"I'm sorry, Mads, I just want you to be okay.\"\n\n\"That's not fucking happening,\" she said with a poisonous hiss under her breath. She probably hoped I hadn't heard it. Her cheeks were streamed with tiny rivers, perfectly centered between her two biggest freckles on her left cheek. Now I knew. She was going to take someone soon. She always got a bit upset during these times. Nothing like this though.\n\nWithout thinking, I blurt, \"Is it your mom?\" Her mother had been fighting an illness for years now, and things were on the downside of that for a while. It seemed the most logical. I regret what I say instantly. \n\n\"What?\" she looks a bit shocked, then shakes her head, \"No, no...\"\n\n\"Your cat?\" The damn thing was always getting into trouble. This would hurt her a lot, but not enough for the tears.\n\nShe just shook her head and looked down. \"It might have been easier if it was my Mom, Charlie. She's been suffering, you know that.\"\n\nI leaned back, confused. \"Well, who then?\"\n\nHer face scrunched up a little, once, then twice. She was an ugly crier. She had to put down her glasses to wipe her eyes. Then she looked at me, dead in my eyes.\n\nI start to laugh, just a chuckle, but it was denial all-right. \"No... this isn't funny, Madison.\" \n\nShe kept staring. \"No, Charlie, it isn't.\"\n\nI go silent and let her cry for a bit, pondering my mortality for the first time in my twenty-three years and half a college degree and a dead-end job at a gas-station that payed only well enough for a twenty-year-old car and studio apartment.\n\n\"Why me?\"\n\nShe doesn't say anything.\n\n\"Why did your bosses choose me?\" I ask, accepting only as far as the realization. \"And why did they choose you to do it? That's cruel.\" With the last statement, I knew which one had assigned her. \"Why not the other fools they have?\"\n\nShe shrugged, sniffling lightly. \"Maybe they didn't know how close I am to you.\"\n\n\"Yeah, okay.\" I say. I'm more furious than scared. I cross my arms and tap my foot on the floor. Furious that they put *her* of all people on this job. I had to go sometime, I figured, but I never thought my best friend would do it, let alone at this age.\n\n\"Look, I'm sorry. They didn't give me a set date, but I can't get another job unless I do this, and that'll make them suspicious.\"\n\n\"Fuck their suspicion,\" I say a bit too loud.\n\nShe closes her eyes and puts her glasses back on, sighing out the last of her sorrow. \"We can do something tonight to make it up to you if you'd like.\"\n\nI uncross my arms and look at her, her face begging for forgiveness. \"What did you have in mind?\" *I dunno. Pub?* \n\n\"The turnpike.\" She says it almost as fast as I can ask.\n\nIts where we met. Well, re-met. We'd known each other since middle-school, but life takes us our own ways. There was a hole-in-the-wall diner there called 'Pete's Point' that a mutual friend of ours took us both to. Shane was his name. Good guy, laughed a lot. At this place they give you drinks as long as you promise not to drive that night. Never knew the owners name, but I thanked whatever heavenly body there was for him. I drove Madison home that night. She'd been having a rough time then, her only boyfriend dumping her and all. \n\nI nod. \"Alright. Turnpike.\"",
" \"Nia?\" I asked, unsure of the response I'd receive. I'd learned over the past few months that, having been depicted as multiple death goddesses throughout history, her personality had cracked into several similar, but fundamentally different personalities. They were all nerdy, awkward girls, but things were always a little different. \n\n \n Seph (Persephone) was the kind of girl who hated being couped up, and enjoyed spending hours sketching flowers, and squirrels in the park. \n\n\n Izzie (Itzpapalotl), the only interaction she did with really anyone were little children, as she volunteered as a primary aid on her days. You could always tell it was her by the butterfly hair pin she always wore.\n \n\n Tia (Tia), a bookish nerd who loved binging anime, and got embarrassed by her laugh.\n\n\n Kate (serket), she was the punk rock nerd, with the dark makeup and knee highs, who somehow always made combat boots work with her outfit. The only reason she was awkward was that she had way, way more energy than everyone else, and a biting tongue.\n\n\n That brings us to my favorite Nia (Mania) she was a fellow retrofag, and we spent more money at arcades than the machines were probably even worth, but she had a way of always cheating the system and getting an extra life, ironically.\n\n \"Hmm?\" She asked, not looking up from her phone. *probably an emulator*, I thought\n\n \"I was wondering, why do you, you know. . .\" \n\n \"Kill people?\" She asked, looking up, a flicker of something in her expression, *was it disappointment, relief?* \"I was wondering when you were gonna ask that. The short answer, I don't. I walk them from one existence to the next, how does Tia put it? 'like old friends, arm in arm' or whatever that dumbledoof quote was\" \n\n \"You mean Dumbledore,\" I interjected.\n\n \"Whatever,\" she said, taking a deep breath, something on the edge of her tongue, but then she seemed to think better of it. \"I guess that's why I am the way I am with people. I know everyone, I know their hopes and dreams, the struggles they've overcame, and it hurts that I can't tell each and everyone that there's a reason they're hurting right now, a reason for the pain\" \n\n \n \"Oh\" I hadn't expected an answer, to be honest, she was always really dodgy around this sort of subject. \"So, why are you hanging around me?\" \n\n \"I can't tell you that\" \n\n \" But. . .\" \n\n \"No, I promised\" \n\n\n I dropped it, if she ever told me, it would be on her terms. That's the way she was. You could never really control her, she didn't take bribes, she ignored tricks or begging. She didn't care what others thought of you, any decision she made was at a time of her choosing. \n \n Maybe one day I'd know why death had decided to befriend me, or, maybe not, it really didn't matter. The only thing I really could do was try to beat her at Mortal Kombat. \n\n\n I slipped the quarter in the slot. I'm ok with this.\n\n\n\n ",
"\"See that girl over there, Sayo? She's Death, like the main one.\" I turned my head to see a frail girl over by the punch bowl, looking very much like she doesn't want to be here. \n\n\"She seems lonely, Kimera, why is she even here?\" \"Not sure, maybe she has to be? Not often this many gods and and mortals get together, she might be here to keep the peace?\" \"Let's go say hi!\" \"A mortal wants to talk to Death? You certainly know how to make Olympus interesting.\" \"If I was normal, I don't think either of us would be here. This isn't even your Pantheon, live a little, make some friends. Like Death!\"\nWe walk over to Death, and I prepare my introductions.\n\n\"Hi, this is Kimera, the God of evolution, and I am-\" \"Sayo, 24 (genetically) , Champion of Millennium, and Tamer Queen of Night Claw.\" Her piercing gaze and chilling demeanor puts me off guard. She isn't even trying to act human. \"Y-you know me?\" \"I know all mortals, better than they do. You keep me very busy and save me a lot of work.\" \n\n\"So what brings you here?\" Kimera says, a slight growl in his voice as he positions himself between us. \"Its expected.\" It becomes clear that her focus is elsewhere.\n\n\"So what do you do outside of work?\" I see her attention shift to the here and now. I feel the thousand eyes of a god looking at all I could be, and it unnerves me to the core. It is an eternity before she speaks again. \"Would you like to find out?\"\n\n\"I'd love to!\" And I actually would, surprising myself and maybe the gods in my company. \"Great, let me show you my collection.\" Her full attention is more unnerving than her absentmindedness. She starts walking away.\n\nSoon I find myself in a room not unlike a library, but instead of books there are orbs of light everywhere. \"What are these?\" \"The final moments of a few thousand living things, I keep them all, but this is where the interesting ones go.\"\n\nShe heads off for one in particular. \"Do you want to know a secret?\" My stomach churns, and I see that even Kimera seems unsettled by her. \"I-\" \"Did you know you've died a few times before?\" She holds up and orb, and I see something familiar, yet so so strange.\n\n\"That's enough,\" Kimera says, and starts to lead me off. \"But don't you want to stop her from dying for real? You know she can only die as many times as you did.\" He stops and pivots with inhuman speed. \"I know the price of what your selling, and its not worth it.\" \n\nWhy would he shut this down without asking me? Why wouldn't he tell me about this dying before thing? Why do I feel like I can't trust him? And why do I feel like I've done this before?\n\n\"Sorry we couldn't do more, Sayo. But there's always next time. See you around!\"",
"My family never shirked away from death. In a way we embraced it, celebrated and made light of it. When I was 10 we had a wake for St. Patrick’s Day, the deceased being an old Hudson Bay mannequin laid to rest on my uncles massage table. There were candles and crosses, and chairs to sit in and enjoy drinks and food. I hid under the table and grabbed people’s legs as they paid homage to the dead, giggling uncontrollably in anticipation of scaring partygoers and being wholly disappointed when my victims laughed off the surprise like they laughed off the rest of our morbid party. Death was never hidden from us and we learned to accept its inevitability and place in the world. Perhaps it that comfort with death that made me oblivious to the fact that I was talking to Death herself many years later.\n\n\nAs a serial monogamist I found the world of dating to be insincere and difficult and about as easy as asking a girl out in the first place. So, like most men looking for a place to start, I signed up for a free online dating site and, like most men using an online dating site, had my sense of self-worth obliterated in the first week of looking for potential datees. All of my messages were either ignored or returned with ads that promised to make me desirable to women—all except for one. \n\n\nThana returned my message with a cheeky remark about grammar and the death of internet-romance and I countered her laments with a quote from some poem I had read in high school.\n\n\n“If [internet] chivalry is dead then I am its ghost come back to haunt you.”\n\n\nThe cheese was melting off my romance-nachos but Thana’s response, shockingly, was the suggestion that we meet up to assess whether or not we could live with “maybe, possibly, in some world, potentially give dating a shot”. I found out later that she had a pretty grim outlook on dating as well and found it was easier to talk to people over the Internet. \n\n\nWe agreed to meet at the South entrance of a local park to grab coffee and wander about, but upon arriving I remembered that my sense of the four cardinal directions was as refined as my ability to change lead into gold. I panicked—we were supposed to meet in less than five minutes and for all I knew I was in the wrong city. My armpits started to sweat despite the Fort Knox of anti-perspirant that I applied before leaving my house and I was about to peace the scene when my passenger window shattered and my vision filled with silver feathers. The shock and confusion of a turkey-vulture explosively invading my car didn’t temper my fight-or-flight and the next thing I knew I was outside my car on the ground, my heart racing. A dozen black feathers wafted out of my door but when I looked up all I saw was a girl sitting sideways in my passenger seat with a long black scarf, rubbing a quickly-forming bruise on her forehead and spitting out what looked like feather down from her mouth. \n\n\nI watched her struggle to unhook her foot from the passenger seatbelt and half crawl half flail out the window she…. a bird, or… something vaporized. She thumped to the ground out of my view and a few seconds later appeared around the front of my car looking around to see if anyone had witnessed her escape. \n\n\nI was still on the ground when she finally saw me. Our eyes locked and for a few moments we said nothing. The silence was broken when I stood up and cleared my throat.\n\n\n“Hi, I’m Fargus Faustmeister. Did you... see what kamikaze’d my window just now?”\n\n\nThana looked me in the eye, unblinking, blushed and shook her head. A cyclist behind her hit a pot-hole and got launched into a duck pond. Thana’s face went from vermillion to crimson and she peeped, “he can’t swim”. We stood there, eyes locked while some people gathered around and took videos of the cyclist flailing in the pond. \n\n\nI smiled.\n\n\nShe smiled.\n\n\nAnd then we laughed; deep, ceaseless laughter from the pits of our being. It felt so good to let go of the darkness and embarrassment of putting myself out there on the dating website and I told her I was glad we met. She blushed again through her tears and one of the by-standers tripped and fell into the pond as well. I turned and offered her my arm, which she took, and we walked away from the commotion of splashes and frantic yelling. I heard sirens going by while we bought coffee but the reassuring glance that Thana gave me made me feel safe, like I was swimming through the clouds. \n\n\n***\n\n\nedit: this is my first WP I think, and first time I've ever shared anything I've written. I'd appreciate any feedback on flow or writing, and please let me know if you like it :)",
"You were attracted to her in a way you've never felt before but when you confront her about this, she says that it's impossible because you'd have to pay an unusual price. Reluctant to be with the love of your life, you accept and the next day... You wake up - as Davy Jones.",
"I still remember the day I met her. She was sitting by herself with a multigrain bagel on her lap. She just kept staring at it, like she could move it with her eyes or something. I later found out she was trying to count the seeds and map them to a circular grid in her head. Apparently, she had been planning on baking the best multigrain bagel ever, and she was experimenting with different recipes and seed proportions to create that perfect combination.\n\"You really seem to be into that bagel,\" I had said to her. I remember how shaken she was when she heard a voice directed at her. To my surprise however, she had smiled. And then I remember feeling very awkward for some reason. But that awkwardness was immediately deluged by this strange sensation in my arms, going down to my legs. I felt like she knew me, everything about me. And funnily enough, I felt like I knew her too.\n\nWe got along really well. She taught me how to make bagels. She even shared her \"bagel maps\" with me, which was kind of a big deal, I thought. I knew I was falling for her. I didn't want to, I knew I probably shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself. Maybe this was meant to be. I didn't believe in that stuff, but I was in a place in my life where I didn't really believe in anything, so I thought I should allow myself this one guilty pleasure.\n\nI was consumed by her. Her passion for bagels, the smell of her hair, the texture of her skin, the suppleness of her lips. I wanted to kiss her. I never thought I could want to feel anyone's lips so longingly on my own. Every moment I spent with her was a fight with myself and my insatiable urge. No, I had to stop myself. But maybe I should tell her. No, that would ruin everything. But maybe going on like this would ruin me. So I decided to tell her.\n\nHow was it that every time she smiled at me, I felt that awkward feeling before a flooding sensation of unfathomable relief? Because that's what I felt yet again when I finally told her, and she smiled. \"You're ready\", she said. I was bewildered. She probably saw it on my face, and smiled that mystical smile. \"I'm ready?\" I asked, trying to jerk off that unexplainable relief I was feeling.\n\n\"You're ready to be mine.\"\n\nAnd I died.",
"\"everybody get's one,\" is all she said as she forcibly shoved me off the subway car just as the doors closed. \n..........\n I didn't know then why the hell she had done it. I had managed to strike up a conversation with her station as the PA announcement said the train would be another ten minutes late, on top of the already five minutes late it had been. It was \"Slippery Rail\" season after all. SEPTA, am I right? But I digress. She was weird but I'd been in Philly long enough for weird to be normal. She was pretty normally dressed and had headphones in, like most people in big cities I'd imagine. What was weird was they weren't plugged in... So naturally when the announcement went off and she was standing next to me I started chatting her up, she was cute sue me. \n\n\"You think with as much as they charge they'd keep these things on time,\" I asked. She just looked in my general direction smiled meekly and turned back to the tracks. \"You know if you want people to NOT talk to you in public you should probably do a better job of hiding the other end of that headphone cord, or invest in some that could look like bluetooth ones,\" at this her face became the color of cherries as she fished the end and shoved it back into her pocket. \"You know you look pretty cute when you aren't forcing yourself to have that \"don't fuck with me face\" all the time,\" she giggled and turned away. I heard the sound of the train coming. Had it really been ten minutes. \"I know this is pretty sudden but I was wondering maybe you'd want to get a cup of coffee or something later...,\" she shot me a look I couldn't exactly explain. It was like anger and sadness something else. I was so confused I almost missed the subway doors and I barely made it before the sound for the doors to close.\n\"Everybody gets one,\" she said as she pushed me back onto the platform. The subway took off and I knew I was going to be late that day. The fuck did that mean \"Everybody gets one\" quoting fucking spider-man from Family Guy at me and shit. In this situation that is pretty bitchy behavior so I hope I don't get too much shit for calling her one. Five minutes later the station I'm at gets shut down because the train I was supposed to be on derailed, hitting another train. The suspected death toll essentially everybody. \n I showed up to work like an hour late. My boss didn't give me shit when he heard that my normal train derailed but he made me stay an extra hour to make up for it. McDonald's sucks, 'nuff said. I'm on my way home, it's only like five in the afternoon at this point so I stop by Starbucks to indulge myself. I've had a pretty messed up day, a brush with death and followed up with a fucked up shift at McDonald's, I needed something. And there she was, like nothing had happened. Sitting there drinking a macchiato or as if she hadn't been involved in a derailment less than eight hours ago. I sat down next her.\n\"Everybody get's one what,\" I asked her. She seemed confused that I was talking to her.\n\"You can still see me,\" she asked her cheeks flaming.\n\"What do you mean still?\"\n Thus began the single most unusual relationship I'd ever had with a girl. Big surprise she was Death. I was supposed to die on that train. Apparently it was normal for people who were scheduled to die soon to be able to see Death so she hadn't been surprised but I wasn't supposed to continue to see her. From that day on I kept walking away from near-death experiences and weirdly enough find her a couple minutes later. Three months go by like this. \n\"How do you keep surviving?\"\n\"I don't know you're the one who said \"everybody gets one\" I've gotten like 100 at this point.\"\n\"I can't even see your clock anymore,\" she yelled. Crazy thing she could do was change people's perception of any situation so us arguing over how I should be dead didn't raise any eyebrows. Suddenly there was a bright light and we were in a court like room. \n\"Good job Morana! You managed to create another Grimm. We needed another one of our own. You section is too populated for one person to handle.\"\n\"Where are we? Who are you and WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!!?\"\n\"Simple enough you are currently dead. Little Morana here saved your dumbass which luck would have it was the right thing to do. Being saved by Death, as contradictory as that seems, made you one of us. So Marik welcome to the club.\"\n\"How am I dead now, I've been avoiding Death for three months.\"\n\"Lower Reapers can't kill each other, it's funny she kept trying though.\"\n\"Who are you?\"\n\"Thanatos, Greek God of Death, I run you guys. Well most of you. Some religions have different set-ups but pick up the stragglers.\"\n I'm pretty sure I fainted after that. Woke-up in some room. Met Death, who turned out to be a chick. She apparently kept trying to kill me after I continued to be able to see her, again pretty bitchy, and eventually I became her peer. Fun times. Fun times. ",
"(My friend wrote this)\n\nEh, ever since I met her she'd always been a bit awkward, a little clumsy, and kinda out of place. She's sweet though, and that's why I like her. When she took my grandpa when I was a mere 8 years old, she had done it with a lot of grace. She told me not to worry, and was very gentle with him as she closed his eyes and slowed his heart. That was the first time we met. Even so, as she left his hospital room, she tripped over a cord and fell right to the ground. The point is, I can't remember a time when she took someone with her, and wasn't her usual clumsy self...that is, until today. She usually lets me tag along when I can, to help comfort the victim or the family. In this case, we entered the scene of an awful car accident. The car was in two pieces, and three bodies lay on the ground. She motions for me to keep my distance as she goes over to one body, a blonde woman. She quietly takes her breath away, and closes her eyes. But as she's about to take away her heartbeat, she falters. I frown as she stands and looks at me, and at that moment, with only three words... I knew Death and I were no longer old friends, but new enemies \"I-It's y-your m-mom...\"",
"“Hey,” I said, shutting the cab door behind me and catching sight of her.\n\nShe was in her usual black overcoat. With handmade navy beanie over her temple, the rest of her sleek black hair was thrown over one shoulder. Her arms were crossed. The usual sullen face darkened by her furrowed brow.\n\nI found her in front of my apartment. She wasn’t doing anything but standing there as people stroll by. The busy, the tired, the old, none of them noticed her. But she was used to that. Her expression didn’t change as I came up to her.\n\n“Hey there,” I said, pulling her arms away from her belly and taking each hand in my own. “Aren’t you cold? Do you want to come upstairs?”\n\nShe sighed, her eyes glancing down at the sidewalk. “You know I don’t feel cold.”\n\n“How about a drink?” I turned slightly towards the Irish bar on the corner.\n\nShe shook her head. Then she grabbed me by the collar and tiptoed to press her lips to mine.\n\nI kissed her back. It was a shock every time. Kind of like submerging my face in a bowl of ice-cream. She was so soft, so sweet. It was too easy to forget that she was Death.\n\nI was about to cup her face when she broke away from me with a breath that turned into a sob before she could exhale.\n\n“What’s wrong?” I whispered, placing a palm against her cheek. My thumb felt her cold lips quivering, and I reached in to kiss her again but turned away.\n\nShe wouldn’t meet my eyes. She just shook her head again.\n\n“Okay, that’s it.” I grabbed her hand and pushed the glass door. We stepped inside, made it up the stairs, and were in front of my door before her fingers squeezed mine and I turned back to look at her. The hat had come off, leaving her dark locks free to cover a side of her face. Her dark brown eyes were finally looking at me. And they looked… scared. Was Death even allowed to be scared?\n\nShe bit her bottom lip. Then she dug into her pocket, and I followed the pale skin of her hand as she brought it back out and unfurled her fist to reveal a pregnancy test. \n",
"\n\n\n\n\nI'd be lying to you if I told you that I've paid much attention to her in the past. \nShe was just there; someone peripheral. Maybe it was I who chose to ignore her, or \nshe just chose not to be noticed. \nI saw her on my way home from work. I was not in the best of moods, for work had lost its luster that I once thought it had. I was brooding, pondering the nihilism of it all.\nIt all happened so awkwardly, for she was beautiful. She was far more beautiful than\nI had ever noticed. As I stood there in admiration of her allure, I forgot that this was really happening. \n\n\"Yo.\" she said plainly \n\n\"Yo?\" I asked, as if I had never really heard the expression, as if I was a stranger in a strange land. \n\n\"you know, like, hi.\" she retorted \n\n\" Oh! yes, hi!\" I said louder than I meant to. \n\nAfter a moment of uncomfortable silence, a memory came to my mind. She looked familiar. Her face shifted from my peripherals into my sights. I knew her. I have always known her. Memories of my childhood rushed forth. She had always been a quite one living in the corner of my eye, never in full focus. \n\n\"I know you don't I?\" I asked, with my index finger on my lips, and a half smile on my face. \n\n\"I don't know, do you?\" she answered with a chuckle. \n\n\"Yeah we went to school together!\" I said, again, a little louder than I wanted to say. \n\n\"YES!\" She replied in a mocking manner, followed by a laughter, as if she was aware and understood my social anxiety. \n\nI was surprised. I didn't expect that kind of response, but I too followed along with the laughter. \n\n\"We hung out once before, ya know?\" She said after the laughter died out.\n\n\" You came into the gas station I was working at. I believe you were on your on way back home from a date that didn't go as planned.\" She added as she looked straight into my soul. \n\nI stood there in amazement. She had dug up a memory that I'd thought to be forgotten. A painful night indeed. Now the focus of the night did not lie in the date, but more so on the moods that had made it a bad date. These moods came from something more insidious than the constant existential crisis that I had been, and am currently going through. This affect of pain came from constant years of abuse at home. Things that I would rather not mention. That night I remember a girl at the gas station that saw my pain. A girl who understood me with out the use of words, someone who knew me more than I knew me. \n\n\" I am approaching you because I recognize that face. Not just the features, but the mood... the pain in your face.\" She said remembering that night so long ago. \n\nWhat was I supposed to say? I was at a lack of words, and thought for that matter. \nI just stood there not sure what to do with my hands, face, or feet positioning. Where do I look? Every time I stare back at her it's like looking down the barrel of a gun!\n\nShe lays her hand on my shoulder and asks. \"What are you doing tonight?\" \n\nAnd with out giving me room to respond she she says. \" I am going to go get a drink at this beautiful rooftop bar about two blocks away... I think you should come hang out.\" \n\n\" Sure.\" I said, still taking in all the emotions whirling like a hurricane. \n\nWithout ordering our drinks we leaned on the guardrails. Just like that night, I didn't need to say a word to feel the cumfort of her being near. We just stood there and a drop of water fell on my hand. It was a clear night, but more water dripped on my hands as I hovered over them. She just stood next to me rubbing my back, as I vented my moods with silence. \n\n\"Shhhhhhh.... there, there.\" she repeated. \n\nThere was that comfort that I felt so long ago. She proceeded to give me a hug, as she swayed me from side to side, leaning on the rail and away from the rail. My tears have stopped. She kisses me as we continue rocking from side to side. And with one last sway, we are propelled off the building into oblivion. \nI am reminded of something I read long ago, as we free fall. A poem in Spanish by Jorge L. Borges. It translates a bit like this. \n\nThe Enigmas\n\nI who am singing these lines today\nWill be tomorrow the enigmatic corpse\nWho dwells in a realm, magical and barren,\nWithout a before or an after or a when.\nSo say the mystics. I say I believe\nMyself undeserving of Heaven or of Hell,\nBut make no predictions. Each man's tale\nShifts like the watery forms of Proteus.\nWhat errant labyrinth, what blinding flash\nOf splendor and glory shall become my fate\nWhen the end of this adventure presents me with\nThe curious experience of death?\nI want to drink its crystal-pure oblivion,\nTo be forever; but never to have been.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"A quiet series of knocks on the door drew my attention. I looked up from my laptop, my eyes barely over the top of the screen.\n\nThe door slowly cracked open, and I saw her eyes peek in and scan the room, resting them on me, then veering over to the table to my right.\n\nShe slowly pushed through the doorway and tiptoed across the carpet, trying not to make a sound. Her oddly forced gait and mistimed pauses to look about was more than enough for me to continue staring.\n\nShe walked over to the table, on which a cage sat atop, with some bedding and a water container within.\n\nShe opened the cage, scooped out one of my older hamsters, and turned around, slowly tiptoe-ing in the same manner she came in.\n\nWith the hamster in one hand and the doorknob in the other, she gazed about one last time. A smirk and a half enthusiastic wave later, she left, door partially shut.\n\nI looked back at my laptop screen and continued to browse.",
"I sat on the couch, my arm around Death's shoulders. She fell asleep as we were watching Netflix, and I didn't want to wake her. You're probably wondering how this came to be. Well, it started when I was 8.\n\nMy best friend had cancer. The bad kind. But, as kids, this didn't slow us down. But one day, while our parents were outside, she told me she was tired, and wanted to watch TV. So we did. She fell asleep halfway through the show, and I couldn't wake her up. I started to cry. My friend was gone.\n\nThen Death appeared. She was really nervous. She sat down next to me, and put her arm around me. She told me it was okay. And we'be been friends ever since.\n\nBut recently, we've gone past a platonic relationship. It's funny, almost. I'm Death's girlfriend. How do I explain this to people? I can't just explain this.\n\nBut I guess I can make this work. For now, though, I think I'm just gonna sleep. Death's shoulder makes a good pillow.",
"Polar opposites is what we are on most parts, both socially akward and social outcasts, but still best friends. We do almost everything together. She taught me that Death, Life, Love and Hatred aren't single people, they are titles, passed down from the first master to apprentice, and then passed on. Those who hold the titles aren't immortal, only gods are immortal, no, those who bear the titles only live longer and age slower. She said she was about my age when she earned the title of Death, when her master retired. The first life the apprentice of Death takes when they inherit the title is the life of their master. Her master was born in the 19th century, and he retired the same year I was born.\n\n\"Rose, you know this isn't forced upon you. I know you to be the only one who have embraced the thought of Death, without understanding it all. You are a strong girl.\" Death only talks in whispers, but I can hear them like she was talking and sitting right besides me. We met when I was 8 or 9, I saw a boy who lived down the street die right in front of me. And when she arrived, all I said, was \"You're... Death.... aren't you?\" She had nodded, and given me a hug. She had stayed with me, wiped away my tears as the police, ambulance and his parents arrived. Noone questioned why Death was sitting next to me. But they probably never had seen her earlier. He had a really severe allergic reaction, to what I don't remember, and choked to death as his throat closed up.\n\n\"I know, it's just... I didn't expect this to happen...\" I felt it becoming harder to breathe. I broke my arm in the skiing slope yesterday, and I've got to stay at the hospital for at least a day. She was sitting on the bed, next to my legs. The second time we met was when my great grandmother had died, when I heard about her death, Death was there to support me and wipe away my tears. I've actually met Life as well, he makes sure that the newborns are taken care of properly. I saw him when I first met my little cousin.\n\n\"Life has taken a liking to you as well, you know.\" Death likes to stare out of the window when talking, and so do I. Eyecontact is too much. Life saved me, if he hadn't made both my skis hop off, I'd be dead. Death told me that it wasn't time for my death yet, so she didn't argue. I've seen Hatred once too, but only from afar. She watched and fueled a fight between two of my old classmates, one almost got blinded on one eye.\n\n\"I've noticed that. He has saved me from getting killed quite a few times now. But if I died, could I spend the rest of eternity with you? You didn't explain that part.\" She has told me alot about the 'demi-god' world, the Domains of Death, Lakes of Life, Hills of Hatred and Lands of Love. She starts explaining, the dead either get to send their first soul, the one that just acts as a paper for the story of the person, to be ereased before sending it to Life to give to a newborn, or they get to keep their first and second soul, and act as guides or helpers of whoever needs someone with their attributes. \"So, yes. If you'd die, you could stay with me for the rest of eternity.\"\n\nLife sits down on the chair that is placed a few feet from the bed, his eyes are bright emerald green. \"Good afternoon, Rose. Hello, Death.\" I just smile at him, too tired to talk much. \"You really think this is a good idea? It could end in disaster, you know.\" Death asked Life, not me. I don't know what she is talking about. \"I'm sure I've made the right choice. It can't wait much longer, or It'll be too late.\" Life sounds confident in what he's talking about. \"What are you talking about?\" I can't hold it, I'm too curious. \"Tell her, Life. You said it's time, and I'm sure now is as good as any time.\" Life takes a deep breath, looks like he's thinking about something.\n\n*7 years later*\n\"I'll never disappoint you, I promise. But are you sure about not staying, a soul can stay as a helper.\" I tell him, he shakes his head. \"I wan't to wander the halls of Death's Domain and dance with the young woman that was taken around the time I became an apprentice. I believe in you.\" Death, Love and Hatred stand beside me, as he wanders away through the halls. Death turns towards me. \"I knew this day would come. I saw it in you, you are now truly the Rose of Life.\" Rose of Life, Azrael of Death, Lily of Love and Prim of Hatred, all standing as the first all-female group of Guardians before the Doors to Death's Domains.",
"All around me I could hear the slow pitter-patter of the rain as it fell on umbrellas and the soft squelch of shoes thudding against the pavement as people briskly made their way to wherever they needed to go in attempt to avoid the torrential downpour that would soon follow. I was in no hurry. I had no place I really needed to be and although I had quite a few things that I should have been doing, the smell of rain in the air had washed away any resemblance of thought. I’ve never been much of an outdoorsman, but something about the anticipation of rain beckoned me to take the two mile hike through an old trail a short distance from my house. I don’t exactly remember the first time I discovered it, but it had to have been when I first moved here almost 20 years ago.\n\nAs I walked further down the trail, the sound of footsteps and umbrellas slowly faded away until the only sounds I heard were those of the rain rapidly falling on the leaves of the trees above and my own breathing. Nearing the halfway point of the first leg of my journey, I happened upon a large tree, beautifully ornamented with brightly colored leaves. Sitting at the foot of the tree was young girl, almost invisible among the shades of yellow and red around her feet. I took a deep breath – she couldn’t have been more than 23/24 years old. From a distance, I could tell she had bright red hair and wore large, bookish glasses.\n\n“Get your damn mind out of the gutter. She’s too young for you” I thought. “Well, it’s not like a pretty, young girl like that would ever look at an old man like yourself. If I only were a few years younger…”\n\nBy now, the rain had really started to come down hard. For some reason, I had decided to take my umbrella with me when I left the house. For as long as I could remember, I had never used an umbrella when it rained. I enjoyed the feeling of being rained on too much. So why did I pack an umbrella?\n\nAs I approached closer, I could see the girl was furiously scribbling in some sort of notebook, her hands awkwardly trying to protect her work from the rain. When she finally made eye-contact, her piercing green eyes were sharp enough to cut my soul. For the first time in a long time, I had no words. Without really thinking, I pulled out my umbrella and struggled it open. Before I realized, I was towering over her, carefully positioning the umbrella over her head.\n\n“Can I help you out of this rain miss” I said; my voice shaky as my brain struggled to process what the hell I was doing.\n\nThe girl looked up and smiled awkwardly. “A little rain never hurt nobody. You of all people should know that”. \n\nI laughed. How did she know I like the rain? Guess it wasn’t too much of a stretch considering I was standing in front of her completely drenched. This was getting awkward really fast.\n\n“What are you writing about?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.\n\n“Oh, I’m just doodling to kill some time” she exclaimed.\n\n“In the rain? You’ll catch a cold! Can’t you doodle inside?” I said, my fatherly instinct kicking in. I didn’t have any children, but I suppose it’s what good fathers would say. Not that I wanted to be this girl’s father considering I was trying my darnedest not to imagine her naked.\n\n“Don’t worry, I have to leave pretty soon anyway. I don’t get much time off work and when I do, I like to come here. Now that you’ve interrupted my peace, you might as well sit down” she said.\n\nI took a seat next to her, still cradling the umbrella above her head. “What do you do for a living?” I asked.\n\nShe peered at me over her glasses and chuckled “I work with the dead” she exclaimed.\n\n“So at a mortuary or a funeral home?” I asked.\n\nShe smiled again. “Yea, something like that”.\n\nI could tell the girl was fairly shy. Her short responses had me feeling self-conscious. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk to me. Nevertheless, I was never one to back down. As I continued to ask her questions, she continued to answer them. She started to use more words and gradually her features softened. It was as if a wall had somehow come down.\nShe told me about a young man she was interested in. How great he made her feel and how happy she was when they spoke. She told me it was impossible for them to be together because her job kept getting in the way and how he could never think of her as more than friends.\n\nAs I listened to her tale of woe, I began to realize how much I’ve changed since I was her age. Was I ever this foolish? If my life has taught me anything, it was to never let anything you want now get away from you. Much like that damn flat screen I’ve been eyeing at Costco, it’ll be gone by the time I grow the balls big enough to buy it.\n\n“Don’t worry miss, you’re young. You have plenty of time to find love. In fact, I’m sure that idiot young friend of yours will come to his senses pretty soon and realize what he’s missing out on” I explained.\n\nShe took one look at me and burst out laughing, tears welling up in her eyes. Her laughter echoed through the trail, reverberating amongst the trees. What was so funny? Did I say something that warranted such laughter? Kids these days.\n\nBy now, the rain had since died down and the sun was slowly beginning to show itself behind the trees. As if on cue, the girl got up, dusted off her dress and looked down on me.\n\n“Time for me to get back to work. I really enjoyed talking to you. Will you meet me here again the next time it rains?” she asked.\n\nShe wanted to see me again? She did look shy and kind of lonely. Maybe she just wants a friend. That’s right, she just wants a friend.\n\n“What is your name by the way?” I asked.\n\n“My name?” she laughed nervously. “My name is Death”.\n\n“Death!?” I exclaimed. \n\n“Yes, Death” she replied.\n\nI wanted to question her further, but I realized that it probably wasn’t my place. Who was I to judge people’s names? Hell, celebrities are naming their kids after fruit and the other day I was surprised to find someone whose name was spelled with three apostrophes. Times really have changed.\n\n“Death huh. I’m not great with names, but I’ll remember that.” I said.\n\nShe smiled although I could tell it was forced. “No, no you won’t” she whispered.\n\nWith that, she sprinted further down the trail and before long, she was gone. \nI slowly got up from the base of the tree and stretched my aching legs. I closed the umbrella and slung it over my shoulder. The rain was gone and with that, so was my motivation to walk. \n\nAs I lay in bed that night, I thought about all that had crossed my mind throughout the day. I thought about the flat screen TV I’d been eyeing at Costco that I didn’t have the money to buy. I thought about celebrities and their stupid baby names. I thought about the man with three apostrophes in his name; I thought of my love of the rain and hatred of umbrellas. Finally, I thought about the hike. The same hike I’ve been going on every time there’s been a rainstorm for the last 20 years. As I closed my eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep, I realized that I could not remember for as long as I’d been here, one instance where I’d actually completed the hike. Oh well, there’s always next time.\n",
"There is a slight noise at the door and I sigh, it's past nine o'clock and the neighbors have probably seen this one already. The man's body is propped against my porch. A slight trickle of blood seeps out of his ear, one eyelid is open but the flicker of life is long gone. He's dead as shit and...yup she's crouched in the bushes across the street. \n\n\"Thanny, you have to stop doing this!\" I try to drag him into the house quickly, but the man seems over two hundred pounds and now I've gotten fingerprints on him. Do the police dust dead bodies for finger prints?\n\nMy neighbor's curtain moves and far off I can hear the wail of police sirens. Thanatos' head whips around to the sound, she looks back to me and then she snaps open a giant switch-blade scythe. The sirens grow louder.\n\n\n",
"I met her a while ago, I'm not sure when, but it was when I was a child. At first, I didn't know that J was a grim reaper, I just happened to see her often, just a glimpse of her, mostly in the street.\n\nWhen my grandma died, I met J just around the corner of the street, she seemed surprised when I looked at her, but said nothing. I asked my father about her but he said that he didn't notice anyone, and I thought it was because he just lost his mother.\n\nSoon, my other grandparents died and I met J every time, and every time nobody noticed her. Seeing people was never a good thing so I stopped talking about her. I met her again often, but it rarely was when someone of my family died.\n\nOne day, I saw her in a public park, waiting on a bench under a tree. For the first time, I approached her. She was a beautiful woman, with long blond hair in a ponytail, black eyes and wearing a black suit. She seemed happy to see me, and it seemed obvious to her, like she was waiting for this moment.\n\nShe told me that she was a grim reaper, that it was the first time in the 3 centuries she did this, someone could see her, that there was, in fact, a lot of reapers, and each had a district where they operated. To her, there was a reason why I could see her, but it was no time to discuss about it, because it was time for her to go.\n\nI met J every 2 weeks after the park, she was awkward but I felt there was something between us, something strange. In the meantime, I thought that building a relationship between a human and a grim reaper was something hard, especially when you have been alone for the last 300 years. So I didn't press the subject.\n\nLast week, J showed just in front of my house, like she really wanted to talk so I invited her in.\n\n\"Hey Nick, there's something I wanted to talk about for a while...\"\n\n\"What is it? Is it about our meetings?\"\n\n\"Yes, kind of. You know, it's not common for a human to see grim reapers, so I talked about you with my colleagues and hierarchy. I believe it's no luck if we met\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" I asked, fearing what could come up next.\n\n\"I want to continue this relationship for the longest time ever. So I can tell you that you can become a grim reaper if you want to, that's probably why you can see me!\" She seemed ecstatic telling that.\n\nI stopped the conversation here, telling her that I needed to think about it. There was pros and cons but it was no light decision",
"My first meeting with death was strange, as you can imagine. Any meeting with an all powerful god would be. I didn't even know she was death at the time. And I later found out she wasn't the only deity of death, it was merely her job, like many other deities of the afterlife, to guide dead souls where they were needed. But anyway, after a few years things started getting weird...\n\nI noticed it at first after people started alienating me. I hadn't exactly been popular throughout my life but I always had a few good friend. Over time they all went their own way thougy, and left me because they didn't think I would fit into their new lifestyle.\n\nThen there were the deaths. \nI know not every death is directly influenced by her, but it wasn't long before I realised that she was taking care of me discretely. It wasn't too noticeable at first, but it started with my biggest rival at the company I worked in suddenly dying from unknown causes. It happened again when I found myself being mugged, but that didn't last long when the mugger suddenly keeled over. I didn't stick around long enough to find out what happened to him.\n\nEventually it got too far after a police detective looking into corruption charges higher up in my company died of mysterious circumstances. \nI had to confront her. I had to.\n\n\"Death?\" I asked carefully, searching for her.\n\n\"Joshua?\" She responded, appearing beside me sat on my bed. She had a habit of doing that\n\n\"Why do you influence those who could bring me harm by killing them? You know that isn't what I want.\"\nWe'd had ethical arguments many times about whether it was ok for her to kill purposefully.\n\nHer eyes narrowed slightly and her brow furrowed into a confused expression\n\"What do you mean? You know I wouldn't take a life unless it was absolutely necessary Joshua.\"\nNo, it wasn't confusion. It was worry.\n\n\"But everyone that could hurt me... that mugger, that rival, even that detective, they all just mysteriously died. Why?\" I was worried now as well.\n\n\"There are times when other beings take lives, but not in the way you described. Maybe...\" She trailed off, looking ever more worried \n\n\"What, what is it!!\" I had to know now. \n\nHer face suddenly melted as a look of pure desperation came across it. But she was quick to cover it up with a neutral expression. Not quick enough though.\n\n\"Tell me, please. If you don't-\" I started.\nBut she cut me off\n\n\"There are times when... close proximity and a lot of time spent with a deity of the afterlife can have some adverse affects. It explains why your friends left, but...\" she trailed off again, but the look she gave me explained everything. I should've known from the start.\n\n\"Don't. I get it now\" I responded. Because I did. It was obvious now. It was obvious from the start. I was just too blind to see it.\n\n\n\n\"I've become one of you, haven't I?\"\n\n",
"\"Hey Death?\" I sat on the edge of the crumbled bridge next to her, looking off at the sunset.\n\n\"Hm?\" She quickly turned off her phone's screen and stared at me as I turned to look at her. She was just slow enough or me to see that she'd been texting someone. Probably one of the fates, they were like family to her.\n\n\"You've been acting a little off lately. Less like your usual morbid, somber self. What's up?\" I asked, looking back at the sunset.\n\nShe shifted a little bit, scooting a bit closer to the edge. I always found it funny when she'd put herself closer to danger to feel more comfortable, but I'd been over laughing about it for years. \"I guess I've been watching a lot of human movies. People tend to imitate what they're surrounded by.\"\n\nI laughed a little. \"Yeah, D. That's kind of the problem. The other day you left your Netflix signed in back at my apartment, and I saw the kind of movies you watch on your own.\"\n\nDeath blushed. That was a rare sight.\n\nI continued, \"I wanted to see the kind of movies you watch, see if any of them were adaptations and get you the book if I could find it. You know, with your Being Day coming in about a month.\"\n\nShe started to stand. \"Tom, I-\"\n\nI gestured for her to sit back down. \"I noticed one thing most the things you watch share. They're mostly romantic films about girls who woo their male best friend.\"\n\nShe lay back on the pavement, only her legs dangling over the edge of the bridge. Her black hood slipped a little off her head, and her pitch black hair bounced out the sides. \"Yeah,\" she sighed, \"well, you wouldn't bring it up unless you feel the same way or you never want to see my face again until you die. I know how people are.\"\n\nI learned over and kissed Death on the cheek, then lay back on the pavement next to her.\n\n\"Tom, do you like being alive? We've talked about it before, but you never decided. Most people would steer clear of confronting their mortality daily. Which is better, changing the world or being happy forever?\"\n\n\"I'm happy right here next to you. Are you alive or dead?\"\n\n\"Alive, technically. My \"Being Day\" is the day I became immortal. I'm the only one who can change the world and find happiness in it.\"\n\n\"So... you really are a god.\"\n\nShe laughed, one of the most natural things I had ever heard. \"We'll talk about making you immortal later. For now, I'll have you know I'm also a sex god.\"\n\nIt was my turn to blush now. \"Metaphorically?\"\n\n\"Wanna find out?\"\n\nI laughed, if only because the situation was so absurd. \"Yeah.\"\n\nShe wasn't wrong.",
"I suppose the signs had really always been there.\n\nIt was cold, rainy, and wet. You would think rainy and wet would be redundant, but out here, rain was pretty much standard fare. It took a real miserable day to get water through my thick boots, and today every step squished with a renewed wave of unpleasantness.\n\nAlso, it was my brother's funeral.\n\nFunerals are weird. You would think the overwhelming feeling would be sadness. Everyone thinks that. And I was definitely sad. But was I acting the right amount of sad? Was it wrong for me to paying attention to how I was standing at the funeral? Was I wrong to be worrying about what I was doing wrong?\n\nThe main feeling of funerals is actually awkwardness, and I guess that's how we found each other.\n\nI didn't notice until my back hit the giant oak tree twenty feet from the crowd that I had even left the front. It was nice though. A good tree, solid, and it felt good pressed against me, silent but not judging. Silent but not judging? What the hell was I thinking? Maybe mom was right and I was in shock.\n\n\"It's the bark.\" She was sitting on the ground, maybe six inches from my feet. I had almost trampled her, but she either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared. \"Something about the roughness of the bark is comforting. I'm still trying to figure out why.\"\n\n\"Are... Are you here for the funeral?\"\n\n\"Sort of. I work here.\" She didn't look at me when she spoke. I liked that. I don't know why.\n\n\"Not very hard, I guess.\" It was a joke. It wasn't good. Instant regret.\n\n\"It's an easy job, but it pays accordingly. Passes the time though, and I seem to have an endless supply of that.\"\n\n\"Ya, that makes sense.\" Of course it made sense. It wasn't very complicated. \"So you live around here?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"But you work here, for terrible pay?\"\n\n\"Obviously.\"\n\n\"Right.\" Several long moments of silence. \"I should go see what they're up to.\"\n\nIf you asked me, I would have told you that that had gone awfully, and that I would never see her again. Apparently, no one was asking me.\n\n------\n\n(will return in a bit and continue in comments)",
"I sat at the train station, trying my best to ignore the question I had just been asked by my relatively new friend sitting beside me. It had been a few months since I met Dina and I had had some suspicions but nothing to cement what I thought. Could she actually BE death? It seemed like since we had started hanging out, weird things were happening everywhere we went. A man would jump off a high building into the street, or a car crash would occur a few lanes ahead of us. Events like these weren't too rare in New York, the city that never sleeps but since I had met Dina they had become far too common.\n\nI had always imagined death to be an all mighty being, capable of crushing the earth in their hand. But if my suspicions were correct, death was just a socially awkward girl who spilled her coffee on me at the Starbucks on 14th street. My friends thought I was crazy the day I told them I was going to ask out the girl who went out every day in dorky glasses and clothes that look like they could have been inherited from an older brother. They thought I was even crazier when I told them I thought she was death herself. I didn't care, though. I was wildly fascinated by Dina and I wasn't going to let my stupid friends get in the way of that. It was impossible to count how many relationships of mine they had already ruined.\n\n\"How would you like to die?\" The words she had said echoed in my brain and I didn't know how to respond. It seemed like such a dark question, even for Dina, who seemed so unbothered by any death we had witnessed over the past few months. Many thoughts raced through my head as I wondered what her underlying intentions were by the question she has asked. It seemed like there was always an underlying intention with her. She would ask me if I liked a shirt someone was wearing, only to give me that shirt the next day. Stuff like that didn't bother me, it was nice, it was who she was. This was eerie, though. Something about her tone of voice screamed that something was up.\n\nIt was a week ago when she told me we had to get away somewhere safe. I thought she was crazy, New York is where I had lived my entire life. I went along with what she was saying though because she seemed genuinely concerned about something. It confused me though because everything seemed to be going great with her. That's what I thought at least. I could never be sure because there was always a sense of mystery about her. Whenever I tried to ask about where she was from, if she had a family, what she was doing in New York or anything else she would give me the same cold, hard answer. You don't want to know. It was the mystery of her life that had me worried and excited about her at the same time. I could spend eternity having a conversation with her, despite the fact that everyone I knew that had met her thought she was an absolute bore to talk to. I never saw that though, I was always just... Fascinated. That's the only word I could think of to describe my feelings towards her.\n\nSo there we were. Sitting at the train station with tickets to Baltimore. We weren't going to Baltimore though. That's what she kept telling me. We were going to go somewhere special, somewhere we could be together forever. I didn't know what she meant but I could have cared less. I just wanted to settle down and start a life with her.\n\nThe train started to pull into the station but something was up. The train started to screech and soon enough it began to fall off of the rails. Everyone around us started to run and scream. Just as I was about to follow suit, Dina's hand slammed against my chest in a way that made me compelled to stay right where I was amidst the chaos caused by the crashing train. As the train came rushing towards us, I felt a sense of calm. We were going somewhere safe. But maybe calling it starting a life together was the wrong way to say it.",
"I first met her during December of my 8th grade year. I was headed off to the lunchroom at 11:30, as usual, when I saw her sitting alone at the end lunch table. I remembered what my teacher, Mr. Santos, said about making new students feel welcome, so I did as he said and marched right over to her.\n\n\"Hi, can I sit here?\" I asked in the friendly tone I could manage.\n\n\"Yeah,\" she mumbled, as she picked through her Caesar salad with her fork.\n\nI sat down across from her. She only glanced up at me, which startled me slightly. She was pale with dull, grey eyes and bags under her eyes that said \"I haven't slept since birth.\" She was particularly thin, but you could only see that because of her bony hands since the rest of her body was covered up by an oversized black sweatshirt. Her hair was long, straight, and jet black. She didn't eat her salad, but merely continued to poke at it.\n\nI felt awkward and uncomfortable immediately. I cleared my throat nervously, and finally spoke up.\n\n\"My name's Eliana. What's yours?\" I asked.\n\n\"De...\" she mumbled too quietly for me to hear.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Delilah,\" she said, looking up a little bit, and then going back to stabbing her salad.\n\n\"Oh, I like that name,\" I said. I took a deep breath. I knew this girl was not going to make friends and probably wanted some, but at the same time, I didn't want to be labeled weird, like her. I looked around the lunch room. People were glancing over and chuckling. Some were whispering as they stared.\n\nDelilah ignored me as she finally started to eat her salad. She glanced up and slightly jumped when she saw me. \"You're still here?\" she asked.\n\nI felt too awkward. \"Yeah, I'm eating lunch here...\" I said slowly.\n\nShe smiled a sad, but genuine, smile. \"Usually people don't stay this long.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" I asked, worriedly.\n\n\"I don't know. People don't like me because I'm different,\" she shrugged.\n\nIt was at that point that I put two and two together. She was just another middle schooler, like me, that was going through the typical middle school \"emo phase.\" Almost everybody had one, but most were done by 8th grade. She was still in it, though, so I felt bad for her.\n\n\"Oh,\" I said. \"Well, do you wanna come over after school? We can hang out and do our homework.\"\n\n\"Sure!\" Delilah replied.\n\n\"Great!\" I exclaimed. Maybe I could introduce her to makeup and girly things so she could end her emo phase early.\n\nLater that day, after school, there was a knock at my door. It was Delilah. She was exceptionally pale in the light.\n\n\"Come in,\" I said, opening the door. \n\nShe walked in and looked around. \"Your house is big,\" she remarked.\n\n\"Thanks, my dad is a lawyer so he wants to show it off by buying nice things that we don't need,\" I replied.\n\n\"I get it. My dad is a leader of the largest corporation in the universe,\" Delilah said.\n\n\"What corporation?\" I asked.\n\nDelilah choked slightly. \"Erm... Giant Eagle,\" she said quickly.\n\n\"Woah, we shop there all the time!\" I exclaimed. \n\n\"Yeah, it's a big deal. Let's go do homework,\" she replied, moving quickly to the living room. I followed her.\n\nWe worked on algebra for about 20 minutes, when I finally asked, \"what's it like to have family that owns a huge company?\"\n\nShe took a deep breath. \"It's strange, I guess,\" she said. She looked away for a little bit, then looked back at me. \"My dad doesn't really own Giant Eagle.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" I said.\n\n\"Yeah, he owns something way bigger. But, I don't know if you really want to know...\" her voice trailed off.\n\n\"Yeah, I want to know!\" I said excitedly.\n\n\"Ok,\" she took another breath. \"My dad is God. He owns the universe.\"\n\nI chuckled. \"Yeah, sure,\" I replied.\n\n\"He is,\" she didn't get upset. \"I wouldn't expect you to believe me. But it's true. My dad is God, my mom is Heaven, and my sister is Life.\"\n\n\"So what are you?\" I asked.\n\n\"I'm Death,\" she replied.\n\nMy throat grew dry. \"Is that real?\" I asked.\n\n\"I'll show you,\" she said. She held on to my shoulder. \n\nI tried to move away, but I couldn't. She looked me in the eyes, and everything disappeared.\n\nI awoke in a bright kingdom. I looked around. It was happy and peaceful. I couldn't believe any place could look so perfect. I already knew I was in the best place I could ever be. Then, Delilah appeared before me. \n\n\"You see?\" she said. \"This is the Kingdom you live in after you die.\"\n\n\"Am I dead?\" I asked.\n\n\"No, but you can be,\" she replied. \"See, death happens when your body stops functioning. I come to the dead person, take them to the kingdom, and ask if they want to stay. They don't have to stay. If they choose to go to Earth, I simply put them back. But the thing is, almost all people choose to stay because it's so much better. Like, you know the stories of babies and people who die, and then come back to life? Well, those people aren't lying when they say they saw Heaven. They simply chose to go back.\" She looks me in the eyes. \"So what do you want to do?\"\n\nI looked back at her, and smiled. \"I'll stay here.\"\n\nThe Earth mourned the unexpected death of me, 14 year old Eliana. My parents blamed Delilah, and the police went on a search for her. But she was no where to be found. Soon enough, she appeared in another middle school across the country, at a lunch table, all alone. Not long after that did a 14 year old boy, named Nick, see her sitting all alone. He remembered what it was like to be the new kid at school. He approached her boldly. \"May I sit here?\" he kindly asked.\n\nDeath glanced up at him with grey, dull eyes. \"Of course,\" she replied.",
"It all started when I first saw her. I'm not gonna sugarcoat it. There was a rather nasty car crash just outside my tenant. I literally thought she was in that car accident, and should've saw the warning signs when everyone else seem to pass around her. I kept shouting over the huge throng of people if she was ok. Either she didn't hear me, or was flat out ignoring me. So... I reached out and shook her shoulder a little.\n\nYou ever see the movie, \"Rings?\" Know the really creepy chick that kills you? That was her. Thin, small, hair like a black curtain, and absoultely drenched by the rain. When I reached out to touch her shoulder, it was like I hooked her up to a car battery. Arms flailed around, feet taking her backward, trip, and just like that, she fell into the mud. I recall apologizing like crazy and offered my hand to get her to stand. She simply stared. If I knew who she was then what I knew now, I may have still helped her up. Don't ask why.\n\nShe stared at me like I was a freaking dkinny purple elephant man in clown shoes and a tank top. So I reached out and took her by the hand, and decided to take her back to my place.\n\nGot her in the door, and took her staright to the bathroom. It was a little cramped in there, but i sat her on the toilet lid and gave her a towel to dry off with. O found my really out of date first aid kit,and asked if she was hurt. Slight shake of her head. No. Ok... weird...\n\nI asked if she needed anything. She replied with a hesitant shake while drying out her hair. I said that she should probably get out of the wet... dress...? That she wore and warm up in the shower. Like a good hostess, I left her in there to grab some of my old high school stuff... I was smaller back then. \n\nI got worried when I didnt hear the water kick on aftee a minute, but I soon heard it a little later. I found for her, my old high school leggings, a pair of fluffy socks, and the old sweatshirt with a unicorn on it (god... high school was a different planet.)\n\nI snuck into the bathroom and took away her dress(?) And swapped it out for my stuff. Used to have a roomate that would prancw right in front of my line of sight when she forgot her clothes, so... yeah. Got used to doing that.\n\nAfter that, i yelled through the door that I'd be making some hot chocolate- well, I yelled hey and I heard what sounded like everything being dropped in the shower. I kept thinking she must've been catatonic or shellshocked or something. So I apologized for the umpteenth time and told uer she had fresh clothes in there, and it was ok to wear them.\n\nI decided to wait after not hearing a response. I was very worried. Eventually, the door opened and there she stood. Faded Neon green leggings, gray sweatshirt with a derpy rainbow unicorn plasted on it, and a pair of fuzzy socks pulled over the leggings being worn by a slouching horror film monster looking thing. It was absolutely ridiculous. I brought to my couch and she needed to be told to have a seat before sitting down. I left the room to get some cocoa on the stove, and returned to see her curled up, knees to chest. Didn't need that college dgree in human behavior to see something wasn't right. \n\nI sat down next to her and hesitantly put hand on her shoulder... kept telling her everything was going to be ok. Even tried doing that affirming squeeze, but there was not much to squeeze to be honest. It brought up the next question: food. \"Did you eat? Are you hungry? Do you want me to cook you anything?\"\n\nSilence.\n\nSo, quietly we sat, and just when I think she was mute, she mumbled something. I didn't hear it and politely encouraged her to speak up. \n\nNow, say out loud in the flatest tone you can manage, and as fast as you can, \"i like unicorns.\" That was her voice. \n\nI agreed with a small awkward laugh. Silence. ...I felt it was a good time to check up on the cocoa.\n\nMost of that night, she didn't say anything beyond a \"yes.\" If she didn't want it, she didn't respond. \n\nI turned on the DVD player and played my pirated copy of Frozen. ...I think she liked it, because I looked at her once during the movie, and saw her head bobbing lightly.\n\nWhen i came for me to turn in, I offered her my couch. She mutters a thank you as I brought her a pillow and a blanket or two. I smiled. Said to not to think anything of it. It was then, she confessed.\n\n\"... so, I'm Death.\" Do I even need to say how confused I was? \"... that car carsh, that was me... it was Gary's time.\"\n\n\"Who's Gary?\" I asked.\n\n\"Age 78. Alzhiemers. Revoked drivers lisence. Went for a drive. Forgot how to break...\" \n\n\"Was he your grandfather?\" I asked worriedly. \"You didnt kill him. These... these things happen its not your-\"\n\n\"I am Death.\" Her voice was a little stressed.\n\nI stared for a minute. It was hard to take her seriously, so I just agreed, and said to not worry about anything.\n\n\nThat's how I got to be Death's friend. Yes. She still is that socially awkward. I feel like a cartoon character scaring the daylights our of her when I get her attention. Its very surreal to be honest. She still wears my old clothes. I managed to convince her to let me get her a bed instead of the couch. Not even two days after getting the mattress, and I saw her with one of those daki-thingies; the huge body pillow with the anime on it. It was cute and creepy at the same time seeing her snuggle up with it. \n\nIt's not wven the weirdest thing. She told me that the Grim Reaper we all know ro be the angel of death is actually her \"Oh-See, do not steal.\" She showed me her stories about him. I tried not being cringey. It was very hard.\n\nRecently, she's gotten into the habit of spending the entire day next to me and saying nothing. Ixm not even kidding. I'll be in the shower, go to pull back the curtain, BAM! Sitting next to the shower like a little, creepy, puppy. I had to explain boundaries... \n\nHer latest habit of following me around is telling me what she did when she wasn't with me. Listening to her talk about her job is like listening to your mother talking about how she found you a soul mate.\n\nShe tries to make it wound better than it is. I can't fault her for that. Plus, she's opening up too.\n\nNow... I don't know if anyone could've seen this coming, but in the dead of night, she slipped into my bed with her weird pillow... naked. Once more, we had the talk about boundaries. Her excuse? She wanted to tell me something.\n\nShe thought it'd be a great time to confess her love to me. ... ... ... I didn't turn her down, but I didn't exactly say yes... we don't hold hands, cuz whenever she tries to do it, she runs away to her bed and \"hides\" under the covers. She only ever hid under the bed once, and found a spider. Fun fact: even Death hates spiders. \n\nI don't know what to call ourselves anymore, so I'll keep sticking with best friends until I either die, or she works up the nerve to purpose... in which case I might die.",
"She sat on the bench alone as usual, busy with her knitting. She was pretty, but not in the conventional sense: long, high cheek bones ran smooth as glaciers all the way down to her tiny chin; her eye sockets were deep and sullen, and covered curiously by old, thin framed spectacles. Athough she had no lips, she had beautiful long teeth, as white as a new born sheep. \n\nShe looked up and saw me watching. She quickly flicked her head away and concentrated again on her knitting. I sat down on the bench, beside her.\n\n\"Hello,\" I ventured.\n\nShe shot me a curious look and nodded curtly, before returning to her labours.\n\n\"What are you knitting?\" I asked, genuinely curious. She seemed to only have one colour of wool.\n\nShe paused for a moment before placing the needles down and looking at me. She pointed at the puddle of midnight on her lap, and then she tugged at the cloth she wore.\n\n\"Oh, a new robe?\"\n\nShe nodded happily, and I made out a lipless smile.\n\n\"Your name's Death, right?\" I asked. She first frowned, then responded with a reluctant nod. \n\n\"You can't speak, can you?\"\n\nShe opened her mouth and pointed to her missing tounge. Or more accurately, *didn't* point to it.\n\n\"Oh. Well, there's a lot to be said for silence.\"\n\nShe laughed. It was an odd sound, something between a pig being slaughtered and a rose blossoming. I smiled.\n\n\"Some people are scared of you, you know. They think you're cruel.\" \n\nHer eye sockets widened and her shoulders sank; she looked painfully sad.\n\n\"Not me. You only take people in great pain. People who shouldn't be living. You're kind. I think, I'd call you 'Autumn,' or something, not *Death*. Like how Autumn takes the leaves and plants that have had their time, and makes room for the new ones to come in Spring.\"\n\nShe beamed, and placed a hand on my knee in a *thank you*. Her touch was cold, but not uncomfortably so.\n\n\"You like Autumn? Then, *Autumn* it is.\"\n\nAt that moment a tiny mouse scuttled out of a bush. It moved slowly and seemed unsure of itself; it was clearly old and I suspected it was blind. Eventually, it crept up to Autumn's skeletal foot, sniffed curiously for a moment and then keeled over onto its back. \n\nAutumn looked at me and fidgited nervously with her glasses. \"It's OK,\" I reassured her, \"It was probably my fault - I really need a shower.\" \n\nShe smiled as she gingerly picked up the tiny creature. She stroked it tenderly with the back of a boney finger, and then popped it into the pitch black bag that rested near her feet.\n\nWe were quiet for a moment, sitting in peace and enjoying the crisp night air. I broke the silence with another question. \"Why do you come here every night?\"\n\nShe put a hand under her chin as she considered. Then she pointed up with a long thin finger. I followed her aim and looked at the clear night sky. A tempest of stars danced above us. For a while, I simply stared. \"They're beauitful, and there are *so* many. To be honest, they kind of blow my mind.\"\n\nShe made a fist and placed it by her chest. She then drew it away slowly, extending her fingers out as she went. She made a noise like a bomb exploding, and I laughed.\n\n\"Hey, look, I know we've only just met, but... do you fancy grabbing a coffee? I know this nice litt-\"\n\nShe nodded happily. I don't think she'd ever had a friend before. She quickly packed up her knitting and we walked away together. Me, and Autumn.\n\n\n---\nFor plenty more stories come visit /r/nickofnight\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ",
">\"Look,\" I said, \"we need to talk.\"\n\nSince my earliest years, I've been friends with Death. I found her standing over my best friend at the age of seven, shaking her head and opening her arms. Being so young, I did not understand the implications of my actions and sprung to her with tears in my eyes. Locked in Death's embrace, I felt safe.\n\n>*\"Yes, Alex?\" Death asked, tilting her head to the side.*\n\nIn those years of childish wonder and discovery, Death was my older sister. She sat on the porch when I played with friends. She sat beside me when no one else would. She gave me the chance to talk with the deceased, too young to have known great grandparents and great aunts or uncles. Death was kind, and in return I was her friend. For children, so innocent, do not understand.\n\n>\"It's about...\" I trailed off. \"...my father.\"\n\nAs we grew older and I shed off the body of a boy, we grew closer. Romantically. Death didn't age, and I found her beautiful. She liked me, and without words exchanged and confirmation sought, we sat together in pleasant company. We understood one another. And I understood that Death did not mean harm whenever she took another to the great beyond. The natural order of things needed to be kept.\n\n>*\"Hmm, what about him?\" she asked, taking a step back.*\n\nI guess we just weren't meant to be. Less kisses. Less hugs. More talks, and clashes. In my university years of studying medicine, my perhaps fickle heart sung out for another. Though we talked each day, I think Death felt uneasy at my attraction towards another. Yet I didn't blame Death when she was killed, drunk at the wheel on her 21st. But just like that, I was in Death's arms again, rambling through thoughts and holding her close.\n\n>\"Well, not just him,\" I admitted, gritting my teeth.\n\nOver one of the holidays, I returned home to find my mother having fallen ill. Cancer. That was the first time I begged Death, calling on our friendship for just one favour. Alas, she could not, she told me, shaking her head. The natural order of things needed to be kept. With a heavy heart, I nodded and clung to the shreds of time left behind. My mother withered away, but still remains strong in pictures, in videos and in my memories to this day.\n\n>*Death furrowed her brows, taking another step back.*\n\nMy father disappeared soon after, taking to alcohol to fill the void left behind. No matter how much he poured, the liquor could never fill that haunting hole. Struck by liver failure, I loosened my tongue and pleaded with my friend, Death. Once more she reminded me, the natural order of things needed to be kept. At the very least, she also said with arms around my head and clutching me close, it would not be my parents needing to attend my funeral. \n\n>\"I want you to be honest, okay?\"\n\nOur romance flared up after my father's death, a desperate grasping at any comfort that the world could provide. Death seemed happier in those times. I just survived. Grief came and went, and near the end Death's worried face had become her default again. I tried my best to reassure her, we would always be friends of course. She... I know she wanted more.\n\n>*Death nodded, showing an emotion I didn't know she had.*\n\nMy first girlfriend, months after me and Death took to friendship over romance, died in a car accident. I blamed myself, not paying enough attention when a truck ran a red light and T-boned her side. At least, I had Death there to comfort me.\n\n>\"Do you,\" I asked, pausing.\n\nSecond girlfriend, also gone through an accident. An old lady had a stroke, her car killed them both on impact. My second dog managed to break out the house, he drowned in a lake on a cold winter's day. And through it all, Death stood by my side. \n\n>\"Love me?\" I winced at asking. She was still my friend, I think.\n\nDepression took hold somewhere in between it all. And though I had death, I wanted something more. The company of immortals is only sought out at the end of one's life, never near the middle.\n\n>*Death didn't make a sound.*\n\nThree attempts, all foiled through chance.\n\nI raised the gun to my head, and pulled the trigger. \n\n*Death finally made a sound, shouting a powerful, \"No!\"*\n\nThe natural order of things need not be kept.\n\n Locked in Death's embrace, she would never let me go.\n\n****\n\nCome and visit **/r/AlexUrwin** for more stories.\n"
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[removed] | [WP] Write a same-sex or LGBT love story. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi,\n\nI have removed this post. It went south pretty fast. I guess reddit is not quite ready to act like adults. ",
"To add to what ST said - I hate that reddit is so awful about this. The mod team really wanted it to go well. I specifically watch for LGBT-friendly stories to read to my kids at bedtime. One of my kids is waffling between being a girl or a boy and I keep telling her she can be either, or both! I guess for now you and I will continue posting stories and awaiting the day redditors can handle themselves like adults. "
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1,
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"1485010387",
"1485010843",
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[WP] You live in a world where everyone's eyes change to their emotion; Red for angry, Blue for sad, Yellow for happy and so on, but when it comes to yours they stay the same day in day out... | 9 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Yo listen up here's a story\nAbout a little guy that lives in a blue world\nAnd all day and all night and everything he sees\nIs just blue\nLike him inside and outside\nBlue his house with a blue little window\nAnd a blue Corvette\nAnd everything is blue for him\nAnd himself and everybody around\nCause he ain't got nobody to listen\n\nI'm Blue da ba dee da ba daa\nI'm Blue da ba dee da ba daa\n\nI have a blue house with a blue window\nBlue is the colour of all that I wear\nBlue are the streets and all the trees are too\nI have a girlfriend and she is so blue\nBlue are the people here that walk around\nBlue like my Corvette, it's in and outside\nBlue are the words I say and what I think\nBlue are the feelings that live inside me\n\nI'm Blue da ba dee da ba daa\nI'm Blue da ba dee da ba daa\n\nI have a blue house with a blue window\nBlue is the colour of all that I wear\nBlue are the streets and all the trees are too\nI have a girlfriend and she is so blue\nBlue are the people here that walk around\nBlue like my Corvette, it's in and outside\nBlue are the words I say and what I think\nBlue are the feelings that live inside me\n\nI'm Blue da ba dee da ba daa\nI'm Blue da ba dee da ba daa\n\nInside and outside\nBlue his house with a blue little window\nAnd a blue Corvette\nAnd everything is blue for him and himself\nAnd everybody around\nCause he ain't got nobody to listen\n\nI'm Blue da ba dee da ba daa\nI'm Blue da ba dee da ba daa.",
"Colors. They were the physical identifier of emotions, seen in everyone's eyes. Anger burned red, sadness glowed blue, and love shined pink. People never voiced their emotions, and why would they? It was all visible in the eyes: the gateways to the soul.\n\n\n\"Ash, I don't have time to wash dishes before work; I'll do them when I get home tonight,\" my brother shouted.\n\n\nIt sounded nothing like an orange apology. The cluttered countertop and sink stacked full of dirty dishes turned my blood to lava, so I stormed quietly out of my house. A quick glance in my car's sideview mirror said I hadn't completely seen red; my eyes smoldered ash gray.\n\n\nDown the street, a quaint coffee shop greeted me with kaleidoscope eyes. A young girl across the room caught my gaze, then she smiled and waved a yellow hello in my direction. The barista topped my latte with a wave of whipped cream; her eyes surfed over my face and I nearly drowned in their placid teal sea. \n\n\n\"Are you alright?\" concern riddled her eyes with purple pinpricks, and the ocean gave way to a forest. \n\n\nShe moved closer and made no effort to conceal her curiosity. Luckily for the barista's pride, I cloaked the stinging annoyance with a smile and a nod. Her eyes remained a green question mark even after I popped a lid onto my coffee and dropped two dollars into the tip jar. The sidewalk beckoned to me, and my reflection in the store window rippled with gray. \n\n\nSeated at a park bench near a small pond, I glanced around at the bustling crowds of color. I felt sorry for them. They exposed their every emotion like advertisements on billboards; there were no secrets, and vulnerabilities revealed themselves like blossoming flowers. I couldn't let myself be that open. I wouldn't. I took a sip of water and chased a small red pill from my purse. If I couldn't keep my emotions under control, the anti-depressants certainly could. \n"
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Demons who choose not to eat souls and don't use products that come from souls are like vegans. | [WP] Demons who choose not to eat souls are like vegetarians | 6 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"Did you know Elzebth became vegan just the other day?\" My ears perked up hearing my superior gossiping the air. Surely she was talking to me, but her eyes kept down at her work as did mine. \n\n\"Oh yea?\" I asked over the muffled screams of the tortured before me. \"How's that going for her, Razelman?\" \n\n\"She's been going on nonstop about it.\" Razelman sighed in frustration, digging the heel of her shoe deeper into a man's pulsating heart. The tortured being writhed in anguish, loosing more blood than I'm sure he thought he had. Mine however remained chained to the wall, taking each whip and scratch I gave. I swear I heard him say, \"More, Mistress!\" a couple of times under his breath. *Why do I always get the weird ones?*\n\n\"Elzebth turned vegan how long ago? Like, a day?\" I asked, \"And she's already talking about it?\" \n\n\"Absolutely. Claims it's so good for her, that if we continue to eat souls like we do now, we'll die at the early age of three hundred! As if she hadn't been stuffing her face with child souls not two days ago!\" My superior let out a siren wail, one that could drive men mad judging by the deranged victims in the bloody rusted room. \"It's getting me angry! Ever since Satan went on this health kick, everyone and their undead mother has been on it!\" \n\nI didn't care at first when He rallied us all to discuss our future meal plans. Usually it consisted of assigning sectors of the human world for us to feed, or deciding which souls had marinated long enough to be eaten in a giant barbecue-like feast. But the moment He showed us His sudden weight loss and the better mood He was having, suddenly everyone wanted to hop on board this crazy train. \n\n\"What's the alternative again?\" I asked, licking at the wounds of my assigned torture victim, sipping on his alcoholic blood before dinner. \n\n\"Psh, alternative. She tells me we should be eating animal souls, because animals don't serve any purpose. Says human souls are too cute and precious, like they lived such fulfilling lives or something.\" Razelman went on, ripping a vital organ of some sort out of her victim, talking with a mouth full, \"And says they have 'feelings' like us. Humans are too stupid to think like we do.\"\n\n\"True. Every time we encounter humans, they scream and run as is their instinct. Just because they make toys that light up and communicate through words on screens doesn't make them intelligent.\" \n\n\"Right? We've been around for millions of years, humans were put on this planet to feed us. To give them qualities of demons is just ridiculous to me, it's a waste of their life to not be eaten. What would their souls do then?! Rot and wither away that's what would happen!\" \n\nI nodded in agreement, after all working in this chamber to earn my pay was only because people ate these souls. Once tenderized and properly extracted, the souls were ready to be served. If people like Elzebth spread any more, I'd be out of a job. Animal souls never made it far anyway, they're very lean and can't be tortured or even hurt. They taste bland, stale, and finding animals who deserve to be in Hell is near impossible. \n\n\"So, what, she wants us to reason with the angels to have a trade of animal souls for us to eat?\" I laughed at the mere thought. Razelman scoffed with a smirk as she dug deep into the man's chest. His bright translucent soul wriggled free before being yanked and shoved into a glowing pouch on her hip. \n\n\"I don't see that happening. Satan got a few animal souls from sacrifices from humans but we don't get that! But on the bright side, I hear Satan's even getting tired of people taking it too far. After all he's only a vegetarian, not a vegan. Some of His warriors won't even use the weapons His blacksmith has crafted because of this vegan stunt.\"\n\n\"What? Why—oh wait, let me guess. Human souls were infused in them to make them stronger?\" I suggested, and sure enough she nodded in disgust. \n\n\"Fools! What happens if there's an attack, huh? Will they just raise their hands up and say 'Sorry we can't fight until a vegan friendly artillery has been made?' So stupid.\" Our gossiping and ranting was cut short. The door with iron bars across it opened and exposed our little vegan ex coworker Elzebth herself. \n\nWithout a word, she came inside and put on her old black apron over her clothing and approached the woman waiting to be tortured beside me. I took a glance at Razelman, who stared at me as if I should say something. \n\n\"Um, how's the vegan diet going?\" I asked, trying to portray a smile that could pass off as interested. \n\n\"Oh... that? Yea, a couple of the demon generals went rogue and ate some of their subordinates. Then a few of our succubus sisters turned on each other and devoured one another. Apparently, cannibalism is the next step to being a vegan so Satan put a stop to it. He said he'd pass the vegan knowledge to the humans just to watch them eat each other in a couple of decades.\"\n\n\"Oh...\" I cleared my throat, \"Heh, well, that should be fun to see right?\" "
] | [
1,
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"1485044817",
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[WP] you just discovered you have the ability to fly. Most people would kill for this super power. But you are terrified of heights. you'd kill to get rid of it. | 4 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"40 feet. Start here, get there, and get back again. Couldn't be simpler, right? The mail isn't gonna get itself.\" \n\nTalking to myself was a habit I had loathed to acquire. But I suppose that's what happens when you shut yourself indoors all bloody day. I wasn't exactly the most social creature before, but this... *situation* only exasperated things further. \n\"where's that... it's gotta be around here somewhere... the bathroom? How drunk was I last night...\" \nPeople don't appreciate a good coil of rope like they used to. Light, durable, portable. All these robo-harnesses and magnetic pulleys and iRopes really knocked old-fashioned rope out of the market. I spent a good three or four of my many lonesome nights reading the Wikipedia page all about the rise and fall of rope. \nI saw the blazing tail of the mailcraft fly off into the distance. It joined up into the hyperspeed ring and zoomed off with the rest of the vehicles zipping above the city. I guess now's the time. \nI creak open the front door, double checking that my rope is securely tied around the railing. Double-knotted for good measure. The bright light of the two suns was baking the sparsely watered grass of my yard. At the other end, the mailbox sat, its flag pulsing green to signify new mail. I can... I can do this. \nOne foot forward. Another following. One and another. One and another. Eyes glued to the floor. There's nothing up there. Just... forward. Get to the mailbox, get back to the house. \n\n*But...* \n\nI couldn't resist. I let my curiosity get the better of me yet again. I took one glance upwards, and I was stunned by the beauty of the midday sky. The glittering lights of the aircraft soaring at mach speeds. The colorful billboards suspended in flight. How the sunlight refracted and scattered across the gleaming arched towers and skyscrapers of the city proper. Nothing like my little abode down at the floor. \nAs I stared transfixed at the gleam of the city, my feet rose above the dirt of my yard. \n*no no no no no no no no on no NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOO* \nHeart racing, I tried to straighten myself out, get my center of balance angled with the floor. Just like those piece of junk instructional pamphlets I received from the government told me to. \n *dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit* \nThat wasn't working. I was a writhing kite of limbs, now yards above my house. The rope held me in place, else I would keep rising upwards. \nI grabbed the rope and started pulling myself along it as hard as I can. Forget the mail, escape is all that matters. Inch by inch I creep back towards the ground. Towards safety. As I get to the bottom, I clenched my hand onto the porch railing and forcefully squeezed my eyes shut. I felt the magic or whatever dissipate, and the sweet embrace of gravity take me back. \nBack inside. Door shut. Locked. Not today. \n\n\"...I need another drink.\""
] | [
1,
2
] | [
"1485049835",
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[WP] A child's urgent plea to Santa ends up in the hands of a retired hitman. | 7 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"But Mister\", I begged, \"It was not even the Thomas Train I wanted!\". \nMr. Kennedy is the worst principal I have ever had! I mean, it is true that since I am in second grade this year, he's only my second principal. But Mrs. Charlene from Kinder was much better and that is all that matters. \nSo anyway, enough about Mrs. Charlene and her Cake Fridays. Did I mention we got cake on Fridays? No, ok. Well we did. \nI lost focus again. Ok, I am back now. \nSo Mr. Kennedy is very mad today. And he just was not getting the fact that the wispy-haired man got the toy wrong so the fact that Wilt ended up in the hospital is not even my fault! \nI should start at the beginning. Mrs. Franks says that I tell stories out of order and that people have trouble following them and that is why I sit alone in reading time. I may have added the last part. But I do sit alone and I do not like it. \nSo last December, when I was 7, because it was before January 4th and January 4th is my birthday.... sorry.... last December I wrote a letter to Santa in my class. I asked for a bunch of video games (and a 3DSxl to play them on) and a Thomas the Tank Engine toy. Some kids think I am too old for Thomas toys, but I really love trains. I went on a train to San Diego one time and it made me the happiest I have ever been. So I like Thomas Trains and I do not really care what Kelly and Wilt think about it. \nAll should have gone well with getting my list to Santa. Ms. Candice gave us envelopes and stamps and I have a tongue so I can obviously do that part. We put the address stickies on our envelopes. I was the first one done, and my table mates knew about it. Because I told them. Twice, I think. But Ms. Candice did not want to collect them until everyone is done. That is dumb. Because Kelly has problems writing which is fine except I had to go to the bathroom really bad. \nNumber 1. I am in public, give me a break. \nAnd since I do not trust my table mates with my stuff (Ask them about my mechanical sharpener and how it just \"fell into a floor hole\" and you will soon realize why I have a strict policy), I decided to bring my envelope and letter with me. \nIt is not a far walk to the bathroom, but I take the long way because Franceska sits facing the hallway window in her class and that is on the other side of the building so I make a circle just to see how her hair looks. It is part of my routine. \nWhen I finally finished in the bathroom, I made my way back to class the faster way (only because Franceska and her class already went out for recess) but forgot my letter in the stall. I had to go back to the bathroom to get it. \n\"I do not care about your '1-potty-1-hour' rule Ms. Candice. My letter is important!\", I whined. \nMs. Candice has no mercy. I saw a text light up on her phone one time talking about how her husband left her. Those two things are probably related. \nSo the next hour rolls around, and OF COURSE, I rush to the bathroom. But to no avail. It is gone. My hopes to wake up Christmas morning and soon be playing 3DSxl with my Thomas Train smiling at me from above my bed are dashed. Wednesdays are worse than Mondays and that is just science. \nLater that day I was waiting in the atrium for my mom to pick me up, when Wilt and Kelly come laughing towards my bench with an opened letter in their hands. \n\"You're 7 and you still like Thomas\", spit Wilt. \"You are such a mommy baby\", barfed Kelly.\nI asked them kindly to give it back. I said something like, \"Get your sweaty, dirty hands off my letter, you trolls!\" I cannot remember exactly, but I do know it was kind. \nThen Wilt pinned me down and Kelly grabbed my shoes and threw them on the roof. \nI would like to stop my story real quick (do not tell Mrs. Franks) and just honor that Kelly Gomez can throw 2 shoes at the same time on top of a roof, even though she is 7 and looks like she was printed out of an inkjet and never became 3-dimensional. Kid has a future in softball, I guarantee it. \nOk, I am back. So though they dropped my letter, it came at a price. Foot protection. I went to Mr. Kennedy's office, not to rat them out because I am not a tattle, but for him to send someone to get my shoes. He did not. He made me go find the wispy-haired man. Which up until this point in my life, was just the old guy who threw cardboard into the dumpster everyday while I got dropped off in the morning. An old guy who never smiled. He was old. But you probably figured that out. I had never met him, and I had not heard of anyone ever meeting him. In fact, I think everyone else just knew him from throwing cardboard away in the mornings. The 4th grade Environmentalist Club hated him for doing that. \nThere were a bunch of dark hallways Mr. Kennedy directed me to. They were behind the lunch line. I saw a bunch of creepy stuff back there, but I never saw any stoves or kitchen machinery at all. Which says a lot about our school's lunch. Where does it come from? \nDo not ask me. This story is about Wilt being found unconscious. Maybe another day I will investigate our lunch's birthplace and report back. \nSo I finally found the wispy-haired man's office. He was not there. I decided to wait for him and since I was tired of walking through sticky hallways (extra effort to lift my feet), I sat in his chair. Or should I say, I was swallowed by his chair. Not really but I did sink in and my feet could not reach the floor. \n\"Who you\", coughed the wispy-haired man. \nI did not respond. Unless you consider staring into the black eyes of an old goblin with my mouth half silent-screaming and half-inhaling air with a hint of Clorox fumes a reaction. \n\"Get out my chair\". \nDone. \n\"Are you kid got his shoes thrown on my roof?\" Still no verbal response. My mouth did close though and breathing resumed in my nose, so that is something. \n\"Well here y'are\". He pulled my shoes out of his pockets. Yes, his pockets. Like his cargo-pants side-pockets. Impressive. Intriguing. Still lame. \n\"That letter for me?\" \n\"Santa\". \n\"Mmmm. Course. Ain't never got letter from kid in this school. 'Cept 4th graders. But it wan't nice,\" he sighed. \n\"Thanks for getting my shoes. My mom is probably here\", I gushed. \nNext thing I know, I am exiting the dark hallways and overjoyed to see flourescent light again. But something was digging at me. The wispy-haired man confided in me. He confided in a second-grader. I mean, I am definitely a wise second grader. If you can be that. I read wikipedia a lot so I can say that. \nI went back. Not because I needed to. But because I knew what that old man was feeling. I feel it at reading time every day. \nI wanted to give him a letter, but I did not have time to write one. My mom probably really was outside. I had a plan though. \nI went back down the hallways (they go much quicker when you are not scared at every step) and I found the wispy-haired man in his chair. \n\"Sir. I got nervous before, but this letter IS for you. I mean. It is eventually for Santa. But I was hoping you knew Santa and could give it to him\", I performed. \nPS: I knew this man did not know Santa. Santa's friends have fuller hair and happier faces. And they do not throw cardboard away. They make it into toys. \n\"Wow kid. Tanks. An I do know Santa...\" (liar) \"....and I make sure he get this\". \nI saw him trying to smile. Not purposefully keeping it in. But truthfully I think his muscles forgot how to smile. \nI left, got in my mom's car, and went home really hoping the wispy-haired man knows how to use post boxes. \nOk now you are caught up. So here I am. In Mr. Kennedy's office. Holding a Thomas the Tank Engine toy with a note around it that said 'To Tim. Beat Santa to the punch. Your friend, %u$#y', which I think is the name of the wispy-haired man. But he signed it in cursive and I do not know cursive so I still do not know his name. \n\"I come into work today and find Wilt Lowell lying unconscious, face-up, with this toy in gift wrap on his belly. How do I explain this without seeing you being involved\", Mr. Kennedy barked. \n\"But Mister\", I begged, \"It was not even the Thomas Train I wanted!\". \nI will update you with more details as they come. What I can say is that the wispy-haired man was not throwing cardboard away when my mom dropped me off today. I do not think that is a good sign. Kelly is crying outside Mr. Kennedy's office. I do think that is a good sign. \n"
] | [
1,
2
] | [
"1485052767",
"1485061781"
] | |
[WP] Turns out, when you're drunk and you die, you stay drunk in Heaven/Hell. For eternity. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"maybe that's why most people got a lot of luck being drunk... there was an incident near our village, not to long ago. there was a guy driving drunk at night after a meeting with his friends at a near, well known pub. So he's drunk, driving his Vespa at NIGHT... \nWell, he failed to turn in a road-curve and managed it to drive directly on the guard rail. Behind the guard rail is a 20 meter-deep slope with a few scattered trees... The Vespa = total damage but the guy was thrown into a tree and stuck in it. On the morning his wife called the police because he didn't came home. So the police searched on his standard-route to the pub. --Police found him sleeping on the tree with his belt on a branch fixed with only a few scratches. What a lucky ba....!!!",
"\"HAPPY NEW YEAR!\" we cheered simultaneously. \"Cheers, you fuckers! Can't wait to see what 2017 holds for us!\" said Lewis. \n\nLewis and I had grown up together. He had always been the more outgoing, and social member of our small group. I had always wished that I was as outspoken and confident as him. I started to dwell on my insecurities and before long had removed myself from the conversation and started nursing a bottle of whiskey. I was only physically there. My mind drifted off to failed relationships, trouble at home and work, my own shortcomings and recent break-up. She said she needed more of a man, and I wasn't it. Remembering that burned worse than the 80 proof poison in my hand. But it made me numb to everything. With each swig I felt more and more weightless. All my troubles seemed to either go away or just didn't bother me. \n\nI watched Lewis carry on with these two girls who almost seemed to be subtly fighting over him. I had had enough and decided to call it a night. \n\n\"You okay to drive, buddy!?\" Lewis asked. \n\n\"Yeah, I'm *fine*.\" I shot back. \n\nI was not. I barely made it down his stairs and to my car. But I put on some music and lit a cigarette and headed home. My phone lit up, it was Lewis. \"Come on back, man :/\" it read. I shouldn't have been driving anyways, and hadn't gotten far. I decided to turn around and head back to Lewis's place. \n\n My phone started to ring and I reached down to grab it out of the cup holder but dropped it. I reached down to get it from under my left foot but put my weight on the steering wheel and veered off into the other lane. Everything went black. \n\n\n\"Clarke? Hellooo! Wake up sleepy!\" \n\nEverything started to come back into focus. My surroundings were obnoxiously bright. \n\n\"W-where emi?\" \n\n\"You're in heaven, friend! You got yourself into a nasty accident. Totaled your car and some other guys.\" \n\n\"Did you call my insurance company they-\"\n\n\"What part of you're in heaven did you miss?\"\n\n\"oh hey! haha you're that Jebus dude!\"\n\n\"No, son. I am God.\" \n\n\"Well hey there *GOD!* I'm Abe fucking Lincoln\" I laughed. \n\nThe towering man in robes did not seem thrilled. He pointed at his feet and suddenly the floor became transparent and I screamed! We were really high up, and appeared to be floating over a volcano. \n\n\"See that down there? One more strike and you'll be down there. I'm not afraid to do it, just ask the guy who runs that place.\" \n\n\"Ok ok ok, well tell me what's going on then!?\" \n\nGod took me for a walk and explained where I was, what had happened, how I would remain for eternity in the same state that I died in. After he was done I sat down to try to comprehend all of this. My mind was so foggy and it was difficult to understand at first. He helped me up and showed me to my house where I fell asleep on the most comfortable bed.\n\nI woke up the next morning, and stumbled out of bed and went outside. I sat down on my stark white front porch and started to reflect. Everything was still numb and I felt absolutely nothing when I thought back on my previous life. It was incredible. If I was forever drunk, I was forever uninhibited, and no longer troubled. After all, there are no demons in this place. Even though it was hard to stay on my feet I was finally happy and carefree. I was confident and outspoken as the booze always did that for me. What a gift!\n\nA day later I went back out onto my porch and sat down on the rocker. I looked out at the crisp blue sky. Never a cloud in it. I saw someone who seemed familiar walking up to me.\n\n\n\n-----------------------------------------------------\n\n\nI hated seeing Clarke so messed up. He had a lot going on, and couldn't hold down a girl. They either ended up cheating on him, or taking advantage of his kindness. He left the party in such an obvious mess I just knew something was eating his mind. Ten minutes after he left I got in my car and started off towards his place. \n\n\"Hey Siri...\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Send a message to Clarke.\"\n\n\"What would you like to say to Mark?\" \n\n\"Dammit, I'll type it myself.\" \n\n\"Clarke, come on back, man :/\" I typed out to him. \n\nAfter a minute I figured to just give him a call. I looked away to turn down the radio as it rang so I could talk. I glanced up at the road a second and saw headlights coming right at me. Everything went black. \n\nI jolted awake! Doctors and nurses were frantically moving around me. It was loud, and chaotic. I started to slip away again. \n\n\"NO NO NO!\" I heard. \n\"Start compressions! ....CLEAR!\" \n\nI jolted awake! I felt needles entering my elbow but after long couldn't keep my eyes open. I started to slip away again. \n\n\"WE'RE LOSING HIM!\" I heard. \nEverything went black. \n\nI woke up two days later. The doctors explained that I had been in a car accident and needed to go into surgery. They explained that there was a 50/50 chance of it being successful. \n\nThey slipped on the mask and started the gas. Everything went black. \n\n\n\n\"Lewis!? Lewis is that you!?\" I heard. I opened my eyes. Wherever I was, was obnoxiously bright. \n\n\nEDIT: spellcheck\n"
] | [
1,
2,
3
] | [
"1485058069",
"1485061212",
"1485061631"
] | |
[WP] Memories are now marketable. Certain ones are "public domain" but the majority are pirated. | 27 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"Alright sir, what are we lookin at?\"\n\nOn the table before me was a tottering stack of MVE's. Worn, greasy covers with near illegible print. You could smell the plastic lamination, still warm from the side of the road where I'd bought them. The street urchins selling them had given me wide, gap-toothed grins when I told them I wanted all the latest mem-crystals they had. They probably had me figured for some kind of pervert. The Privates took them with puzzled frowns, or in the case of Private Pamir, with barely smothered grins. \n\n\"Oh boy. I haven't seen one of these since I was a sophomor.\" said Pamir, who with obvious delight had siezed upon the particular masterpiece with the not-quite-subtle title of \"The Sultan's Harem\". \n\n\"This official police business, Pamir,\" I said wearily, \"And as such you will treat this assignment like any other: with proper professional conduct.\"\n\n\"He means, don't wank off on the job, kid.\" said Julius, and the others laughed. \n\n\"Are we supposed to watch all of these mem-crystals, boss?\", asked Yohan, turning serious. He sorted them out. There were forty five in all.\n\n\"Yes. Now, as some of you know, on the 23rd of ninth, Solar Calendar, Interpol officials on Mars handed us an individual who we believe to be Mao Layder.\"\n\nAt the mention of the most notorious serial killer this side of the Milky Way, the men lost their grins and straightened up. Mao Layder, the man of a thousand faces. He had pulled the plugs out from about twenty people from all across known space. Every murder had been discovered, since Mao never tried to hide the bodies. Rather, with each one he did his best to make it appear a suicide. It seemed like the standard operating procedure for a serial killer; it might have worked in the past century. But modern police methods being what they were, the criminologists of the department soon worked out the pattern, and after that it was only a matter of time before he got taken in. And he was taken in. But that was the problem. In seven different star systems, seven different Mao Layder's were taken in, confessed freely to their crimes, and were subsequently terminated by penal services. Seven completely different people from all walks of life. A stock broker from Imperial Earth, a uranium miner from the asteroid belts, a white-haired former colonist living quietly on his pension on the side of Olympus Mons. Each were absolutely convinced they were responsible for each murder. They even went so far as to describe, with pinpoint accuracy, the grusome details of each one. And as far as the state of the art lie detectors could make it out, it was the plain truth and nothing but the truth. No kind of hypnosis detected either. \n\nAnd so the state gave to each of them a well-deserved death. But somehow the murders continued. The real Mao lived on.\n\n\"Are they sure this time? I mean, it's gonna be embarassing getting it wrong eight times in a row.\" said Private Jules.\n\nI shrugged. \"Martian Interpol and the brass up top have it all figured out. The man fits the bill. Forensics got DNA on the last crime scene that they're, and I quote, \"99.998 percent sure its his\". But as for me..\" I took a deep breath. The 'man' they brought in did not so much resemble a cold, methodical, calculating killer as it did a human vegetable. He did not respond to any questions. He did not respond to anything at all. A pathetic, balding, potbellied wreckage of flesh. I was not convinced. \n\"I hope it is him. But I wanna be sure. So, I need you guys to look through each one of these MVE's.\"\n \"I don't get it. How's that gonna prove anything, boss?\" said Pamir. \n\"I am convinced that if our suspect is Mao, then he was probably flash-mugged. Thats the best explaination of his current mental state.\"\nFlash mugging is common practice in the slums of many worlds. The illegal MVE trade has every kind of unnatural and unspeakable memory to satisfy the worst dregs of humanity. The demand is sky-high, and yet there can only be so many willing donors. So the syndicates prowl the spaceports and alleyways, to abduct, drug and \"fry\" the memories out of fellow criminals or unfortunate citizens. However, the apparatus they used to extract the product were usually home rigged, unsophisticated, and dangerous. Most victims died outright or became catatonic in the extreme. Instant retards, in other words.\n\n\"It's either that, or he donated his memories himself to rid his mind of evidence. If that was his intention, it worked. The cognitive probe reads blank on him.\" \n\nIn fact, his only response to the cog probe was to drool and wet himself. He was empty, his mind obliterated.\n\n\"So I want you to look through these. These represent the latest illegal MVE productions. I checked them, and they were all produced around the time the Martians picked him up. You never know, one of them might be his. Each of you take a dozen or so. Focus on the violent ones. And please, Pamir, don't let me catch you enjoying yourself. Okay? Questions?\"\n\n\"How deep do we go, sir?\"\n\n\"If you think you have a lead, go as deep as you want. Just keep track of real time and report back to me at the end of the day. Get to it.\"\n\n We took a stack each. Together we took our seats, and plugged the cords. I took a deep breath and lowered the crystal slide into the slot for neural adaptor. And felt myself slide away...(note: tell me if you like it so far and I'll write the rest. Till then ciao)\n \n",
"Major was a busker outside the hookah lounge on the far side of Westaphalia District. It was an odd place for a suburban teenager like me to hang out at, but hey. You go where the fun is when you can get caught, am I right?\n\n\nI heard Major's voice from a block away. An entire *city* block mind you, the man's voice resonated like you wouldn't believe. Problem was he had a voice for silent movies and a face for radio. His only redeeming quality was that he wasn't a drug addict. Not in the traditional sense, only modern, contemporary kind of way.\n\n\nLike memories.\n\n\nLuke and myself were there to experience a new release. One Private John Sterling of the 4th Brigade and his memories of fighting an never ending battle of insurgents. Anything from building to building clearance to engagements lasting four hours. It was *the* dream.\n\n\nPassing Major on the way in, I handed him a five dollar note. Our security for his honesty and loyalty. He had ratted out several foreign exchange students after one of them ended up being held for ransom. He had insulted the wrong mobster.\n\n\nThe hookah lounge wasn't bad itself, just limited seating. Smoke vented through the entrance, filling our vision with an ever variety of smoke and smells. Apple mint here, rosewater there, all the way to someone's home brew of... cinnamon rolls. Heading straight for the back, I waved at the bartender. He nodded non-nonchalantly pressing a button that called for the bouncer to open the back door. A ventilated area in the back, a few spots were already taken by pirates. Youngsters like ourselves trying out new programs or simulations. Some of them were streaming memories or movies, just like a modern pirate.\n\n\nLuke and I chose a spot near the entrance. Despite the foot traffic near the door, the noise wouldn't matter. Once we were plugged in, we would be too engrossed to notice even a *SWAT team entering. Nothing like that would happen. Not today. \n\n\nPlugging in, I settled into the leather sofa. Well worn in, I immediately felt at home. The menu popped up and began the simulator. I could hear gunshots immediately. The headsets came next, active sound cancelling headphones. Lastly, the pill.\n\n\nCoated in sugar, it knocked you out for a few hours while your mind let you sleep and absorb the memories. By the time you woke up, the presence of the drug would be gone, along with the memories. \"Surf's up Luke.\" I murmured.\n\n\nHe chuckled as both of us fell into a deep lull. This was the pirate's life."
] | [
1,
1,
2
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"1485116533",
"1485159962",
"1485148171"
] | |
[WP] After the original version of you dies, your clones decide to work together to complete everything on your bucket list, regardless of how unrealistic it seems. | 4 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Me2.0 looked down at the next item on the list.\n\n-Climb Mt. Everest. \n\n\"Hmm this will be tough, but doable\" Me2.0 thought. A couple years of training later, Me2.0 started the ascent. Weeks went by. Storm after storm hit. The crew slowly dwindled as they approached the summit. Oxygen and rations were running low. Finally, they made it. Me2.0 couldn't help but feel joy in the most oxygen deprived way. He did this for Me. \n\nOn the way down, they made base camp about 2 miles away from the valley where they started the climb. Me2.0 pulled out the list to cross off Mt. Everest, confident that he could finished the last two miles. He tried not to glance at the next thing Me wanted to do but couldn't help it. \n\n-Climb Mt. Everest Naked\n\n\"Are you fucking kidding me....\""
] | [
1,
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"1485121338",
"1485123272"
] | |
[WP] You've felt the baby kicking for months now. You're horrified when the doctor tells you that you're not actually pregnant. | 9 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"*Excited as a doll, my family in support.*\n\n*Married and pregnant, living the dream.*\n\n*So when I went in to have a baby,*\n\n*Would you believe my shock?*\n\n*The doctor said I wasn't pregnant, never had been.*\n\n*Despite this, I had birth as normal under his care.*\n\n*Could you believe my shock when I saw my own head staring back at me?*",
"Hey Sean, thanks for coming in. We've got your test results, the doctor said while shaking his head. \n\n\"oh yeah? Tell me more bro,\" I said. \n\n\"Well you're not pregnant. You're a man. And an idiot. You have gas. Go home,\" he said, as he handed me some gas-ex. "
] | [
1,
7,
10
] | [
"1485135538",
"1485140509",
"1485135958"
] | |
[WP] Two brothers go to war. Only one comes back | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Max and I grew up doing everything together\n\nAlthough he was always one step ahead of me\n\nChatting, joking and talking about whether\n\nInseparable was something we would always be.\n\n\n\n \n\n\nThe day he enlisted\n\nWas the day I did too\n\nI his shadow, realising then\n\nWe were indivisible, it was true.\n\n\n\n \n\n\nOne day\n\nTwo day\n\nThree day\n\nFour\n\n\n\n \n\n\nWas this all that the stars had created us for?\n\n\n\n \n\n\nEventually there was no us\n\nI’d much rather not say\n\nBut the power of that land mine\n\nWell, it blew him away.\n\n\n\n \n\n\nThe emptiness drowned me\n\nFrom day one to day home\n\nThe emptiness set in\n\nThat I was alone.\n\n\n\n \n\n\nMax and I grew up doing everything together\n\nHim always one lifetime ahead of me\n\nI know now, more than ever\n\nThat separated is something we would always be.",
"War is hell, everyone knows that.\n\nBut what people don't know is the pain inside a mother's heart, waiting for her little boys to return, hopefully in one piece if at all...\n\nWhat they don't know is anyone who makes it out alive is still wandering through the world, afraid and hurt...wounded for life in one way or another.\n\nIf I had seen the grenade thrown between us earlier, it would've been different. There would've been two boys returning home. Mom would be happy...Dad would be proud...our younger sister wouldn't be asking \"When's big bruver coming home?\" None of that heartbreaking nonsense would be happening.\n\nIf only I'd been more perceptive. If only, if only...\n\nIf only I understood what it was like in a warzone...\n\nIf only my brother would've left me alone sooner...\n\nHe'd have his leg and I'd be coming home too."
] | [
1,
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3
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"1485145159",
"1485151699",
"1485145508"
] | |
For instance:
You are in a musical, everyone else is in a horror movie.
You are in a romantic comedy, everyone else is in an action movie. | [WP] You are in a Movie Genre, everyone else is in a different Movie Genre. | 387 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"A beat up chevy pulls into my driveway as i prepare myself for what could happen this weekend. The nature side of me has always wanted to go camping. I mentioned it to my friends a few times,but way before I came to terms with what my, and only my life is. I always had the feeling I was being watched. When I would close my eyes and try to sleep, when i stepped into the shower- every second the hot water ran down my face I was afraid to shut my eyes in fear of what I would see when I opened them. Fortunately, no one, no thing ever attempted to harm me. Doors were always shutting when no one else was home though, shadows always appeared on the walls....and then I saw him. After years of begging my parents to stay home at night time they got sick of the routine and left me in my house all alone. It was Halloween and I hadn't made any plans but to baby sit my neighbors daugher. \n\n \"Casey\" She said \n\n\"Yes?\" \n\n\"Someones here-...\" her voice changed it's tone, and a song began. A ridiculous disney style, life is great song. \n\n I looked out the doorway to find a man in a painters suit and weird halloween mask staring back at me. I survived the night- and based of the slasher films i've seen, its because i'm a virgin but still...the feeling of being watched never left me.\n\n One of the movies i saw, there was a guy in a hockey mask killing teenagers at some camp...he was supernatural or something. So yeah, i'm a little nervous to go camping, what if that guy who came last Halloween comes back again? Then what...my friends start singing as a knife pierces through my skin, cause their world is perfect and mine is just some f*cked up horror movie? I ditched my friends a little too much this year though, the camp base looks pretty nice and safe. I would have felt bad if I said no to something I wanted to do. \n\n I open my front door just in time for my three friends to finish their musical number. I don't get why they always do that, no ones watching them...is life really that great they have to sing about it all the damn time?\n\n “Hey Marie” I call, walking towards the car.\n\nShe calls my name back enthusiastically, adding a nice wave. \n\nThough her boyfriend, Tyler jumping off the roof of the car as part of his routine is attention grabbing I can’t help but notice an odd figure next to the bushes across the street. Next to Marie now, I ask if she see’s it too. \n\n “I don’t see anything, why are you so paranoid all the time?” she says turning away and into the car. \n\nI look again but find there is nothing there. \n\n Driving off my street I can’t help but look out the back window. Nothing appears like I expect so instead I try to relax. \n\n As we pull up to the camp site the sky is not as bright, in fact in the distance smoke can be seen, a lot of it too. The four of us hop out of the car into the camp that wreaks of smoke. \n\n “Here we are-” Tyler coughs, “Camp Crystal Lake” \n\n*Why does that sound so damn familiar?*\n \n The three of them go into another musical number, despite the difficult attempt to breath. In the far off distance it looks as though the trees on fire are spelling out something. \n\n[And so the trees did spell out something- MICHAEL VS. JASON] \n \n Seconds later all smoke and fire disappear out of thin air as if it had not happened. Weird. \n\n“did you guys…did that happen for you guys too…or-” I attempt to ask\n\n“Sing along!” Matt calls out\n\n“Guess not. Camp Crystal Lake…why does that sound like I’ve heard it before?” \n\n“Camp Crystal Lake? It’s pretty popular.” Marie answers \n\n“Why?” I ask \n\n“Because…of legends” She smiles at me \n\n“Legends??? Like what kind of legends?” I worry \n\n The only definition I know for legend is, psycho-killer… legend has it…Jason Voorhees, supernatural killer roams around…..camp…..\n“Shit!” I say out loud. “We should go” I propose \n\n“No! we came here for you we’re gonna have fun! I was kidding there’s no legends. It’s funny that you think someones following you all the time, no ones following you.” \n\n“I didn’t mention my stalker….who is real BY THE WAY.” I yell \n\n It doesn’t take long for the sun to set, and so my three friends and I find ourselves inside our cabin bored out of our minds. Rain begins to lightly tap on the window, but then more heavily. Marie and Tyler silently get up from the table and make their way to the bedroom they claimed. \n\n “We’re tired” Tyler fake yawns. “See you in the morning?” \n\n“Hopefully” I reply. \n\n Matt and I look down at our phones a short while before we decide it is too early to be sleeping. I hadn’t mentioned to them before but I couldn’t help but shake the feeling there was someone roaming outside our cabin. Now that it was just him and I, him less judgmental than Marie and Tyler I decided to speak on it. \n\n “Have you noticed the creeks on the porch make every few minutes?” I whisper \n\n He shakes his head, no. \n\n ‘Are you a virgin?” I whisper again, knowing this will grab his attention. \n\n“Are you?” he smiles \n\n“Seriously, yes or no Matt.” \n\n“……..no” \n\n“Someones here, and by some scientific law that I have yet to comprehend, if you’re not lying you’re gonna die tonight….and so are they, we need to get the hell out of here.” \n\n From across the room, where Marie and Tyler lay a loud crashing sound interrupts our conversation. It sounds like it was glass, the window probably- followed by their screams. Matt and I run to the other room as our friends attempt to run out. Our reality slows down for a second though, and a piano begins to play soft background music. The hands of my stalker back home grab onto Tyler’s leg, dragging him slowly. Marie reaches her hand out to grab her loves for one last time, and begins to sing a ballad. My stalker and I look at each other too, in confusion and fear. Time speeds up again and the man in a painter overalls rips Tyler away. The remainder of us run as fast as we can towards the front door but before I can open it a machete tears through the door. Jason, the legend, the psycho-killer has his hand wrapped around the other side of the weapon. He does not seem to be concerned with the three of us, but the killer across the room. They both just stand there for a quick second, then a battle begins. We do not take this opportunity to stand and watch but run out into the pouring rain in hopes of survival. \n\n Marie stops in the middle of the woods, “Casey…..I’m sorry…” \n\n“About WHAT??” Matt yells, anxiously and afraid. \n\n“There really was a legend….” A piano begins to play faintly in the background again \n\n“Marie!” I yell \n\n She continues to sing, ignoring my call to her \n\n“He’s right behind you!” I yell again \n\n Drenched in rain and mud I watch my best friend mercilessly killed at the hands of a horror movie killer and I know for sure now…that is what my life is…a movie…a form of entertainment for kids bored on the weekends…on Halloween…film enthusiasts and I’m a victim, it’s never going to end is it? \n",
"\n“Oh my goodness! Jack, look, this fellow here is a composer!” Liam heaped in a sigh as he heard the exclamation about himself. Over pronounced gasps swept the subway train as others took note of this excellent news. The woman who had spoken behind him was joined by a jovial fellow wearing a fedora. A great smile was on this man’s face and he was staring at Liam as though Liam’s face were cast with gold. “Well let me see that there song my good man!” the man who must be jack exclaimed while reaching out physically towards Liam’s notebook. Liam turned his body and slipped the notebook into his coat to block Jacks overreaching arm from taking it. Immediate bewilderment etched itself on Jack’s face as he was turned down.\n\n“Well honey, it looks like this man needs to be cheered up. Why, he is so miserable, that he won’t even share his gift of music with the rest of us in this cabin.” Jack told his significant other. \n“The gift of music has such miraculous power to heal the soul though Jack, why doesn’t he want to share?” The girl asked as though heart broken.\n\n“Why maybe he doesn’t have a mother.” Someone chirped up from a few rows back.\n\n“Let’s cheer him up!” two people cried out simultaneously.\n\nLiam groaned as music began playing from nowhere in particular. Jack began singing in a beautiful tenor voice, and in moments the entire subway car had joined him except Liam. The song was all about how music makes the world go round, and about how one can always confide in the friend known as music. Liam produced a flask from within his coat and cursed himself for not taking a cab to work today. Every few seconds one of the singers, who were all dancing at this point, would attempt to take Liam by the hand to make him join into the activities.\n\nLiam had only managed to keep his sanity by staying perpetually drunk. As early as he could remember everyone in this world would break into dance and song at the drop of a hat. To make matters worse, every individual always knew not only the lyrics of the song, but also the dance routines. He had once boldly asked a teacher how everyone knew the song and dance and was met with a silly look followed by a song entitled “Music wells up from within”. The worst part was that Liam himself had a deep driving desire to write music. If he didn’t he seemed to go mad. He had once showed his songs and lyrics to others, but he was scolded for his work. It was too depressing they told him. No one would ever want to dance to that, they said.\n\n“Next stop, 45th and main” the speakers called out, in a rhythm which just happened to the beat of the song. As the subway doors opened, Liam quickly attempted to make his way through the crowd who began to serenade him as he walked. Liam shot through the subway doors at the last moment and sighed in relief as the sound of the song faded with the departure of the subway.\n\nPicking himself up off the ground he prepared himself mentally for the gauntlet he would face walking from here to work when he heard, “Hey did you see how that guy almost didn’t make it off the subway in time?” Liam screamed and began to run as he heard music begin again while another voice stated “Lets sing about that!” \n\n",
"This isn't supposed to be how the zombie apocalypse happens. There's supposed to be news stories about a virus on TV. It's supposed to start overseas, spread here, and take days to work its way across the country. In all the zombie apocalypse fantasies we had joked about, we thought we would have some warning. I'm not supposed to be chased down by my neighbor, who normally hobbles along slowly as he walks his schnauzers. When I first pulled on to my street and Frank literally ran up to my car, I thought his wife was dying or something, and maybe he needed me to call 911. It was dark. And I had never seen anyone sprint like that - certainly not Frank. But when I rolled down my passenger window to ask him if everything's okay, he lunged for me and made this awful growling sound. I floored the gas pedal, Frank fell to the ground, and I drove to the end of our street. When I got out of my car to run inside, he was hot on my heels. What the hell?! \n\nI slammed the front door closed, barely locking the deadbolt before Frank's body thudded against it with stunning force, before he started frantically jiggling the handle. My heart was pounding out of my chest, I stumbled backward and tripped over 4 of our friend's pairs of shoes. My 75-year-old neighbor's face appeared at the dark window, and I screamed again. And that's when I finally saw his bloodshot eyes, dark crimson circles under his eyes, deep scratches and distinct bite marks on his bloody neck, and Frank's mouth was dripping with foamy, bloody saliva. He hammered on the window with his hands.\n\nI heard laughter coming from the basement. Game night! My husband and his friends were supposed to be playing with the new PlayStation VR headset he got for Christmas. I sprinted to the basement stairs, and nearly tripped as I ran to the entertainment room in the basement where the laughter is coming from. They're playing the Resident Evil 7 demo. The guys laughed again as some terrifying creature attacked the VR character, and our friend wearing the headset shouted and laughed at whatever surprise had just happened on-screen.\n\nI took one second to catch my breath before I shouted \"SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH FRANK!! He chased my car, down on the street corn r, and I thought he needed help, but he ATTACKED ME! Sprinted after my car, all the way home!!!! I think he's a zombie or something! What do we do?? We don't have guns in the house --\"\n\nSmiles faded as everyone looked at me, then slowly shifted their gaze back to the VR game. Mario picked up another piece of pizza. My husband walked over and whispered, \"Frank chased your car down the street...? That guy is slower than DSL internet.\" His friends chuckle. \"That's a funny prank and all, but honey, we're kind of busy here.\" \n\nOur friend squealed and swiped at the creepy lady on the screen as everyone on the couch laughed. I hate horror games. I hate suspense. I hate all that shit. And now that it's LITERALLY HAPPENING 20 FEET FROM THIS VERY SPOT, I'm about to lose it. Frank continued to slam his fists into the glass. \n\n\"I'm SERIOUS!! Listen! Can you hear that?? That's Frank at the window and he wants to kill me! He had bite marks and scratches on his neck, bloodshot eyes, and he was foaming at the mouth! I THINK THIS IS THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE! Stop playing the game and come LOOK --\"\n\nSounds from the game made Frank's attempts to break the window seem like sound effects on our surround sound. \".We're having a lot of fun here, but this joke you're playing is kind of lame.\"\n\nSomething happened in the game and everyone laughed at our terrified friend. My husband went to sit by his friends again. My husband had his phone out, probably recording the game demo and reactions to upload to his YouTube channel.\n\n\"I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP!!!\" They laughed at me. They freaking LAUGHED AT ME. \n\nI tried to think. We don't have guns. The axe is in the garage. And we have the large block of knives on our kitchen counter. I'm a girl with pathetic upper-arm strength, and what I really need is our tall zombie-enthusiast buddy Trevor to handle it, but he's deeply invested in this VR game. \"DAMN IT TREVOR, THIS IS YOUR DREAM COME TRUE. THERE IS LITERALLY A ZOMBIE TRYING TO BREAK IN UPSTAIRS!!!\" \n\nThey snickered at how \"convincing\" I was being and went back to their game. My husband gave me a stern look. Apparently I was going to need to handle this myself. I thought of our sleeping children two floors up. Oh, God. The pounding had stopped. Did he leave? Were we safe? Is he now attacking a neighbor taking out their trash? I dialed 911 on my cell as I sprinted upstairs, toward the knife block, and grabbed the cleaver. \n\nMy tired son stood at the top of the stairs to the second floor, rubbing his eyes. \"...Mom?\"\n\nSounds of laughter echoed up the stairway from the basement. A rush of cold January air blew in, as the back door thudded open against the wall. My heart stopped, and the air seemed to be sucked out of my lungs. Frank stood in the doorway, illuminated by the flood light in our back yard, as I dropped my phone to the floor.",
"I forgot to set my alarm to be up for my job interview. I rushed to get ready, got out the door, jumped in my car and immediately headed down town before realizing my hair was a complete mess. \n\n\nTraffic was light so I got into the city early and decided to stop at Starbucks to fix my hair in the bathroom and get a quick pick-me-up. \"You got this Jenny.\" I was saying to my reflection. \"You have all the qualifications for this job, just go in there and show them that you're the new boss around here. Just walk in there like you got balls bigger than he does and show him how awesome you are.\" \n\n\nI heard the toilet flush and a woman walked by me and whispered, \"Weirdo...\" under her breath. \n\n\nI blushed, not realizing someone had been listening in on my pep talk. I walked back into the lobby and right into a man carrying a latte. It splashed all over his button up shirt. \n\n\n\"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, let me get you a napkin!\" I said, feeling the blood rushing into my face as I noticed how cute he was. He had shaggy golden blond hair and a stone jaw, soft brown eyes and the faintest smile lines.\n\n\n\"Oh, not a problem.\" he said. He seemed distracted, like there was something more important going on that made this only a minor inconvenience, he kept looking around and out the windows as we walked over to the counter with all the napkins. \n\n\n\"I'm so sorry, let me buy you another drink. I'll pay for the dry cleaning of your shirt too!\" I stammered, I reached for a napkin and knocked over the cup of straws sending them scattering across the floor.\n\n\nThe door to the Starbucks opened with a ding, and the cute guy I had just spilled coffee all over was really intently staring at the man who just walked in.\n\n\"Get down.\" he said calmly, pushing me under the counter. \n\n\n\"Wha-\" I began to protest as he pulled out a gun from under his sports jacket.\n\n\nThe man that just walked in drew a weapon as well and they began to stare each other down. He had a trimmed, well groomed black mustache and goatee, heavy set eyes with bushy black eyebrows and a dark suit. He opened his mouth and with a gruff voice he began to speak - no - he began so sing.\n\n\n\"Today we meet at last to settle the score,\n\nJust like the times we fought before,\n\nOh, Benjamin you thought you put me away for life,\n\nAnd I'm sure you've not forgotten how I killed your wife.\"\n\nThe blond man's eyes narrowed and he began to sing in an angelic voice.\n\n\"From prison I heard that you had escaped, \n\nWhen I read the headlines my mouth was agape,\n\nI knew it was only a matter of time before,\n\nYou came to deliver the death that was in store,\n\nFor two lives you desired to take that day, \n\nBut to my great misfortune, I was away,\n\nSo in my place you took the love of my life, \n\nAnd now I shall have revenge for my beloved wife.\"\n\n\nOh my god, I was quivering. I needed to get this guys number. I started slowly crawling away toward the check out counter, I didn't want to be in the line of fire when these guys stopped singing and started shooting at each other. \n\n\n\"I'm gonna be so late for my job interview...\" I whispered under my breath as I crawled. \n\nThe mustachioed man started firing, and the two began to move about the room shooting in what looked like a choreographed display. The blond man fired his gun, the bullet shattered the window behind the dark man, striking a car outside in the gas tank and causing it to burst into flames. \n\nThe mustachioed man missed and hit the lights above causing a shower of sparks to fall around me. I screeched and skittered faster along the floor, finally getting behind the cashier's counter. \"Oh no, I broke a nail. I just had these done! You asshole!\" I screamed, grabbing a hot cup of coffee from behind the counter, I threw it across the room and it splashed on the face of the mustachioed man. He howled in pain. \n\n\nHe sung in his raspy voice.\n\n\"Oh, woman, by striking me you have arisen my ire,\n\nWhen I kill this man, ending your life is my next desire, \n\nFor no one insults Andover McVey, \n\nI will restore my honor on this greatest of days!\"\n\n\nThe blond man answered in angelic riposte,\n\n\"You'll do nothing of the sort, no one else shall you harm,\n\nI'll strike you down at last by the hand of my arm,\n\nYour days are numbered, my revenge will be had,\n\nAnd you'll remember my name, I am Benjamin Gilihad!\"\n\nThey fired again. Benjamin's bullet missed, striking a fire hydrant and sending a geyser of water into the air.\n\nAndover hit the faucet of the nearby sink, causing water to start spraying inside the restaurant, all over me. \n\nMore shots rang out as the two man encircled, exchanging verbal attacks in perfect key. Finally there was a click as the last bullet had been fired from Andover's gun magazine.\n\n\"Our weapons are empty, it seems we both stand,\n\nI guess we'll have to settle this dispute with our hands!\" \nhe sang.\n\n\"Andover, you are as stupid as your heart is numb,\n\nI knew you were an evil man but never this dumb,\n\nFor your gun carries eight bullets and this one carries nine,\n\nIt seems at last, revenge will be mine!\"\n\nBenjamin answered in thunderous resolve. The light glared off the tip of his brilliant chrome gun, blinding me slightly as he fired his last round into Andover's chest. \n\nAndover fell to the ground, dramatically clutching the wound, and struggled out one final verse.\n\n\"You can strike me down, put a bullet in my lung,\n\nBut at the end of the day, when all is said and done,\n\nYour wife still lies dead underneath her grave marker,\n\nYou gain nothing as my vision turns dark....er...\"\n\nHe collapsed, blood pooling beneath him. \n\nPolice sirens approached down the road and several cruisers surrounded the building. I stood up, my makeup running down my face and my white blouse now soaked and see through.\n\nBenjamin saw me and placed his sports coat over my shoulders to cover me up. \n\n\"That... that was incredible.\" I stammered. \"So... about the dry cleaning.\" \n\n\n\n\n",
"\"Aww come on Troy! I think you need to be cheered up a little.\"\n\nThe crowd pressed in around me, and I tried not to gag as the smell of sweat encircled me like a venomous cloud. \"Um...\" I choked as they leant in closer. \"But... we just... *lost.*\" My final word echoed through the space of the gymnasium, a lost cry for help.\n\nBut they ignored me completely. Oblivious to the horror of our most recent loss at the basketball game, they laughed my comment off, and all I could do was watch with wide eyes as one of the players shouted, \"I think this calls for a celebration!\"\n\nThe gymnasium went wild. An eruption began in the stands - *they were coming for me!* \"No!\" I begged desperately for mercy. \"Please don't do this!\" But they wouldn't listen, and they cheered gleefully at our misfortune. I sank to the floor and wept for the idiocy of mankind as they began their dreadful chorus.\n\n*\"We're all in this together...\"*"
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[removed] | [WP]In the distant post apocalyptic future of 4017, 4 warring factions rule the wasteland; Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook and Reddit.Unfortunately, there are rumours, legends of an another faction.The forgotten faction of 4chan. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"The expedition went as planned. So far. Even though the truce all factions agreed to is nothing more than temporary. The second the artifact was in sight, people would start killing each other to hold it in their own hands. We didn't agree on what its abilities really were. The Facebookians believed it could control minds while the Tumblerones thought it to bring peace to everybody. Piece in the sense that, if everyone but Tumblerones died, there wouldn't be any wars to be fought anymore. I was not sure what the Birdling thought, he wasn't much of a talker. Of course they didn't know at the time that I would bring the artifact home and use it to spread the knowledge and wisdom of the old people around the world. Everyone would praise me for what I had accomplished. No one needed to know I wasn't the original creator.\n\nThe dark tunnel lead us to a chamber. Our steps echoed from a ceiling we couldn't see. A small ray of light from an unknown source hit a small chest in the middle of the room. As we approached the chest we saw fine golden letters that said *4chan Archive*. The chest didn't seem to be locked and as the Facebookian tried to open it the Tumblerone bashed in his head. I was impressed with her strength and brutality. I stepped back and watched a minute of struggle between Birding and Tumblerone until I got bored. I was prepared for that. Quickly I drew the revolver I fondly call Downvote and shot both of them in quick succession. Amazing how naive non-redditors are. No wonder we were winning the war.\n\nAs I approach the chest I imagine myself in front of the council already, being honored with the Karma-Medal for my outstanding performance in this mission. I open the lid and set eyes on a book with a plain title: *Anon sais*. Intrigued I flip open the cover and read the first sentence of what seems to be a poem. *Never gonna give you up...*"
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[WP] You have a reputation for being horribly indecisive. In truth, you've been cursed with the ability to see every possible negative outcome of every choice you make, no matter how minor. | 355 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"It was getting about time to check out the window again. Cleverly, I foresaw my finger being sliced to the bone by the window blinds. \n\nSliding off the couch, into my sleeping bag on the floor, I began to roll towards the kitchen, where the disposable gloves are kept. \n\nOh, shit - I totally forgot I had set up one of those infant-fences in front of the doorway into the kitchen so I don't accidentally sleepwalk and put my head into the oven. \n\n*piss!* If I get out of my sleeping bag and stand up I run the risk of an aneurysm from the sudden change in blood pressure. Better lie on the ground for awhile and listen for noises outside. \n\n*which reminds me! -* ***fuck*** *i totally forgot about peeking out of the window!* \n\nThis is getting a bit ridiculous. It's not even 8 a.m. and already shit is way out of control. Luckily I rolled up a joint and hid it in the sleeping bag in case I needed to blue-pill out of today. Good job. \n\nAlright. I burned the sleeping bag a little but I zipped the sleep-bag all the way up and clam-baked the shit out of it. No noises from outside. Fuck the window, today's a wrap.",
"“Sara just pick any damn restaurant” he said laying out each menu on the coffee table like a deck of cards “please.”\n\nI took a deep breath and uncrossed my legs, scooting to the edge of the couch, I had to focus. This right now choosing where to get food delivered from was a huge decision with a series of consequences that only I could see. A pepperoni pie and order of mozzarella sticks from Pauly's Pizza would result in indescribable pain and misfortune for the delivery boys family, including one suicide. I pushed the menu away from the rest of the bunch, Danny threw himself onto the couch unimpressed by the progress. Lee’s Very Good Golden Castle Chinese was also a no go, unbeknownst to Danny an order of chinese food tonight would be the beginning of a brutal gang war where a stray bullet would kill a 85 year old women, not from a gunshot but from a heart attack at the shock of it all. \n\n“My God Sara it is not that serious. What are you craving? What haven't you eaten in awhile?” Danny glanced up at the TV which had been paused in the middle of a movie for thirty minutes now. \n\n“How about I cook us something?” I offered. The only foreseeable damage from cooking the chicken she had in the fridge was a bout of food poisoning that would leave Danny hospitalized for 3 days due to dehydration. \n\n“No Sara you have to choose, you always do this.” I picked up the menu for Palace of India and quickly threw it down, due to the eviction of an entire apartment complex and the downfall of two families into poverty when the owner of Palace of India becomes to successful. “Domino's Sara that's an easy pick” Danny pleaded handing over the next menu. \n\n“Definitely not” I said slapping the menu out of his hand. I would not be the reason why the Dominos corporation rises to power in America, eventually causing a dystopian future when pepperoni becomes obsolete. \n\n“Sauls Sandwiches!” I shouted. The only negative from an order from the small sandwich shop around the corner is a strained relationship between Saul and his oldest son. He wouldn't be invited to his wedding but to be fair he wouldn't have gone even if he had. \n\n“Finally” Danny sighed opening the menu up and browsing the selection. “These are the guys who make that really awesome pulled pork sandwich right?” \n\n“Yeah that's them” I said falling back into the comforts of the couch to mourn the loss of a relationship, Saul would also miss the birth of his first granddaughter due to rising aggression between the two men. \n\n“Alright an order of the pulled pork sandwich, cheese fries and what do you want?” \n\nI sat upright, the fate of the state of Indiana, a spiral into alcoholism for a one Thomas Gate the man who delivered the bread to Sauls and one teenage pregnancy, all were in my hands. ",
"“Would you like anything to drink with that?” asked the waitress, smiling brightly.\n\nThe visions hit me instantaneously. *A flash of white* I order a large Pepsi. I knock it over accidentally while reaching for the salt, and it pours all over Julie’s white dress. *A flash of white* The waitress knocks the glass over with her elbow while placing my burger in front of me, and the glass shatters on the floor. Shards of glass fly everywhere. The young trainee waitress is embarrassed. A few minutes after the mess is mopped up, an elderly woman with poor vision does not see the “Caution. Floor is wet.” sign, and slips on the damp tiles. *A flash of white* I order nothing. My burger is spicier than expected, and I am parched. I ask Jules for a sip of her Creame-Soda. The sides of the glass are damp with moisture and it slips from my hand and shatters on the floor. A small piece ricochets off the floor and lands in someone’s salad…\n\n“Kate!”, Jules exclaimed. She was looking at me with exasperation. “A drink?”\n\n“Uhhhh…”\n\n“She’ll have a large Pepsi, right Kate?” I nodded. Julie smiled apologetically at the waitress. “Kate has trouble making up her mind sometimes.”\n\n*The understatement of the century*\n\nAs the waitress walked away, Julie turned back to me with a glint in her eye. “But I love you all the same. Mental illnesses, aside.”\n\nI laughed out loud. My best friend had always had a way of making me smile, ever since we were children. As per my “curse” (as I had dubbed it), it had manifested around the time I was ten years old. At first, the inexplicable visions had terrified me. My parents were equally as concerned, their child surely could not be “seeing things”? What would people say? They took me to doctors. Neurologists and psychiatrists. When one couldn’t help… A second opinion. A third. A fourth. One psychiatrist had suggested that I be fully evaluated in a psychiatric hospital; but my mother had refused. \n\n“My baby is not going to some sort… of… of… *mental asylum*, just because her imagination is overactive!” \n\nI remembered sitting on the stairs, listening to my parents arguing. I had never heard them argue like that. *Was I really crazy?*. Hot tears streamed down my face and, at that moment, I promised myself I would never tell anyone else about these “visions” ever again. And I never had. Over the years, I had learnt to live with it; although there was no doubt it had taken its toll. One does not notice the amount of decisions one has to make in a day; until confronted with every possible unfortunate trail of events which could occur by making each and every one. With every choice I made, came the possibility of a self-created disaster. Everything I did could potentially harm me or, worse, someone else. If something bad happened to someone owing to something I had decided, no matter how mundane, the remorse would gnaw at me until I eventually broke down from the overwhelming guilt. Breakdowns in my teenage years were numerous. \n\nThe most logical solution? Let people make decisions for me. Big decisions were, by far, the worst. I would see my entire life pan out ahead of me in over a hundred different directions. Each choice was a timeline, and each timeline had consequences. A horrific butterfly effect quite literally flashing before my eyes, with nothing I could do to stop it besides to cease attempting to make a decision at all. \n\nMy latest big decision? My college degree. My parents were both successful lawyers at their respective firms, and had pushed me into pursuing a career in law. I was relieved by it. My classes were interesting enough, and I was intelligent enough to keep up with the course-work. \n\nMeanwhile, Jules was babbling away about some good looking philosophy Professor who taught her.\n\n“I swear to God, Kate, I have never seen a lecture hall so full of females. I doubt half of them even have philosophy as a subject. I actually *know* a ridiculous amount about Freud these days. Some weird ideas that guy had. Hey…”, she trailed off and looked past my shoulder, “Isn’t that the guy from your jurisprudence class you were going on about that one time?”\n\nI turned my head in what I hoped was an inconspicuous manner. Sitting a few tables behind them was a boy. Seated on his own, he seemed immersed in a novel and had not touched the food on his plate. I didn’t know anything about him, except that his name was David. And that he mesmerised me in some way no-one ever had, and I had no idea why. He was exceptionally good looking; dark hair, dark eyes and a brooding manner about him. He always sat alone in my classes, during which he mostly sketched in his notebook in black ballpoint. I only knew his name from a quick glance at the cover of said notebook. I whipped my head back around, blushing furiously. \n\nJulie smiled wickedly. “So that *is* the guy then. You should go talk to him.”\n\n“Jules, you know me and guys never work out…”\n\n“Yeah, because you never even give them half the chance to get to know you before you push them away and then break their hearts”, Jules retorted with an eyebrow raised. \n\nI flinched. What Jules had said was true… But holding together a relationship with my mind regularly displaying every terrible way it would inevitably end was not easy. \n\n“Kate, come on. You’re gorgeous, he’s gorgeous. And as far as first impressions go, I can tell he loves good literature… He’s reading John Steinbeck, Kate. I can see it from here.”\n\nI sighed, preparing myself. I knew only disappointment awaited the moment I let myself think the words. \n\n*Should I go talk to him?*\n\nI turned my head slowly and stared straight at him, waiting for the flashes. And nothing happened. I thought with more deliberation. \n\n**Should I go talk to him?**\n\nStill, no flashes. I felt my heart begin to beat rapidly. *This doesn’t happen. This is not normal*. And then, without even acknowledging what I was doing, I stood. It felt like my entire body was numb and moving of its own accord, as I made my way shakily towards where he was sitting. I was a few paces away from his table when he looked up at me, and I saw his eyes properly for the first time. They were not brown, as I had originally thought, but a dark blue. And in their inky darkness swam, what seemed like, a thousand years of pain. The instant he looked at me, his face drained of all colour. As I sat down opposite him, he put his book down. His hands were trembling.\n\nI spoke without hesitation. “David. What did you think when you saw me just now?”\n\n“I was… I was deciding whether to greet you or to carry on reading”, he said. His eyes were a mixture of confusion and torment. He was clearly trying to regain composure, and failing.\n\n“Did the flashes come?”\n\nHe looked up. And I knew he understood.\n\n“No… Nothing happened.”\n\n“Nothing for me either.” I began to cry, and the tears were as hot as the ones shed by a little girl on a staircase all those years ago.\n\nHe took my hand. “I don’t even know your name, but I do know one thing. I don’t think I am ever leaving your side.”\n\nI wiped my eyes and looked up at him. “Kate. It’s Kate. And... I don’t think I ever want you to.”",
"\nJeanne’s grip on my hand tightened and she pulled me suddenly left into a small shop. The little bell on the door tinkled merrily, announcing our arrival into an ice-cream parlor. My stomach sank. My carefully controlled date had just been dropkicked by my girlfriend.\n\n“Wanna share a cone?” Jeanne asked with a seductive smile. “No spoons. I’ll lick the ice-cream off your nose.”\n\nJeanne looked so proud of herself, and even as I toyed with the idea of saying no, of getting the hell out of this den of consequences, I could see the future unfolding—well, only the bad parts of it. \n\n“Ok,” I said, “You can pick—“ No, bad idea. Jeanne picks jalapeño lavender swirl, which gives me gas for days and somehow, ten years down the road, causes civil war in Belarus.\n\n“I’ll pick.”\n\nShit. I hate picking.\n\nAnd Jeanne knows. She knows I’m indecisive. She mocks me all the time. She thinks its hilarious that I’m double-majoring in Molecular Biology and Near-Eastern Studies because I “couldn’t pick”. Molecular Biology is eating me alive, but it lets me keep an eye on Javier in Human Genomics lab, who would’ve killed himself six months ago. I’m not saying it’s “because he met me” like I’m some kind of pretentious life-delivering angel-douche. Maybe my presence in class meant he didn’t meet someone else. Hell, maybe I just bring the curve down enough that he’s getting an A.\n\nBut right now, I need to choose.\n\nI look between the flavors—Vanilla, Chocolate, Mint Swirl, Caramel Cluster—and I see death, destruction, infidelity and disease. When I contemplate Rocky Road, Jeanne stabs me on our wedding night. Picking Strawberry Mango means New Zealand sinks into the sea. If I choose coconut, Jeanne stabs my father on their wedding night.\n\nWell, Coconut’s a no.\n\nI dropped Jeanne’s hand to wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. If I didn’t pick in a few seconds—choosing to not choose—Jeanne would leave me for Javier. I would be so depressed that I’d flunk Molecular Biology. Also, civil war would erupt in Belarus.\n\nI frowned and rewound my thoughts. Actually, no matter what flavor of ice-cream I picked, or failed to pick, it seemed that Belarus was in for some tough times. I closed my eyes, following the consequences of this war to its bloody end. Then I considered another option.\n\nI glanced over at Jeanne, and admired the face that had first caught my eye in Intro Persian: the freckles on her nose, the carefree smile, the curious eyes. \n\nI took a deep breath. “I’m sorry Jeannie,” I said. “I’m breaking up with you.” Her mouth dropped open and I saw a dozen perfectly valid arguments bubbling forth. I raised a hand. “Don’t argue Jeanne. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but it’s for the best.”\n\n\n"
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I think this fits with the theme pretty well :).
It's been done before but I want to see some new ones - re-write a greek/roman myth using modern symbols, people, language, etc. | [WP] Write a Modern Rendition of an Ancient Myth. [TT]? | 8 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"So there we're these two dudes: One and Seven Hunapu. These brothers we're badasses in playing dice and ball. So much so that the lords of the underworld, Xibalba, got pissed over all the racket made by the dice and ball on the surface of the earth, kinda like how you get pissed when your annoying upstairs neighbor decides to host marching band tryouts, but instead imagine that the marching band really isn't that loud you're just an asshole that's just mad at the world: those are the lords of the underworld. \n\nAnyway, these lords of the underworld, being all goth and shit, hated the idea of anyone else enjoying life, having fun, or or just, ya know, living (go figure). So they hatch a plan to shit on everyone’s day because ‘they want respect.’ Now, these lords of the underworld we're some hard motherfuckers. Their leaders were one and seven death (because obviously) and they gathered their homies like they gathered their thoughts on how to fuck over the Hunapu bros. \n\nThere was Flying Scab and Gathered Blood, and their job in the crew was to make people sick and otherwise hate life. \n\nThen there was Pus Demon and Jaundice Demon who, as their names suggest, made people leak pus because existence still wasn’t terrible enough without all that. \n\nThen there was Bone Staff and Skull Staff who worked on making people starve and turn to bone (so, in general, real compassionate guys).\n\nSweeping Demon and Stabbing Demon, we're a psychopathic pair who stabbed people just for not sweeping up around their house (again, these were very reasonable fellows). \n\nBut the last two twisted fucks: Lord Wing and Packstrap just straight up murdered fools just for walking around. \nAs if being tremendous assholes wasn’t enough, they were also incredibly petty: as the whole plan revolved around killing the brothers just because they had sweet ball playing gear and the lords we're jealous and wanted it for themselves. \n\nThis is how the story starts (at least this part anyway): with the lords of Xibalba sending a messenger to invite the Hunapu bros. to play ball in Xibalba (but really it was so they could kill them and take their stuff). \n\n(This is a really long story, so this is really just the first part, more to follow if folks are interested. ",
"“Okay. First day, new school. You’ve got this.” Dora took a deep breath and walked into to Hephaes High School. \n\nAs if she were in some crappy teen movie, the buzz in the hallway died down instantly as she made her entrance, and then picked up again in the form of fervent whispers that she knew were about her. She inwardly sighed. She couldn’t help it that she looked the way she did. With big blue eyes, an adorable button nose, full pouty lips, flawless skin with a natural glow, long wavy blonde hair, and a body that, as the guys at her last school had put it, was “totally bangin’”, Dora seemed to attract attention no matter where she went…and she had decided a long time ago that it was way easier to just play into it.\n\nDora smiled brightly as she sashayed down the main hallway to the office. More than one of her future classmates gaped at her, looking more fish-like than teenage-boy-like; and Dora was positive she saw at least one boy immediately move his books to hide the bulge that had formed in his pants. She couldn’t help but giggle to herself. Maybe her dad was right; maybe this whole new school thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.\n\nWhen she arrived at the office, the stern-looking secretary pointed her to a row of chairs against the back wall. Two of them were already occupied by boys who both had messy blonde hair and a splash of freckles across their faces. She guessed that they were brothers. In any case, they too made fish faces as they watched her cross the office towards them. She decided to take a seat next to the taller of the two.\n\nWhen she sat down and saw they were still gaping at her, she decided to take the friendly approach. \n\n“Hi, I’m Dora. And you are…?”\n\nThe taller boy came to his senses the quickest.\n\n“I’m Epic. This is my brother, Pro.”\n\nDora cocked her head and furrowed her eyebrows questioningly.\n\n“Yeah, I know…weirdest names ever. Our parents subscribe to the ‘Name your kid something strong so they succeed’ belief.”\n\nDora giggled. “Well, Epic, if you ever want to try and live up to your name, here’s my number.” She swiftly pulled a pen out of her bag and scribbled her phone number on the boy’s hand. \n\nAs if the gods themselves were watching her, the secretary motioned for her to come up to the counter as she wrote the last digit. She smirked to herself as she thought, 'Perfect timing, as usual.'\n\nThe rest of her day was just like any day at any high school. Homework, some boring classes, a few interesting people, and gross cafeteria food. She pulled out her phone on the bus ride home, and was surprised to see that she had 3 new messages.\n\n*Hey, this is Epic* \n\nShe noted that he had sent it less than 5 minutes after she got her class schedule.\n\n*Pro dsn’t think I should b talking 2u, but there’s no way I’m gonna pass up the chance 2 hang out with a hottie like u.*\n\n*Wanna go steady?*\n\nDora smirked at his lack of chill. She decided to leave him hanging a little bit. Let him sweat it out. \n\nShe didn’t reply until dinner that night with her dad. \n\n*Sure, y not? ;)*\n\nAs soon as the text message finished sending, her phone went off again.\n\nHer dad grabbed her phone from the table. \n\n“You know the rule, young lady. You can have this back after dinner.” \n\nWhen he saw her pouty face, he chuckled. “Oh, chill. It’s just a Snapchat from…OlympusDude1680. New friend?”\n\n“I don’t know. I’m not sure who that is.”\n\nHer father got a concerned look on his face. \n\n“Now listen, Dora. I was watching the news this morning and I saw a story about some new virus that is being transmitted through Snapchat. Don’t open any…what are they called? Snaps? Don’t open any Snaps if you don’t know who they’re from. I’m not buying you a new phone if this one goes haywire because you weren’t careful.”\n\nDora rolled her eyes. “All right, all right. I won’t open it. Unless I find out it’s from someone I know. Deal?”\n\n“I’m serious, Dora. Don’t open that Snap.”\n\nDora sighed and pushed her plate away. \n\n“I’m done, can I go now? And, like, can I have my phone back, please?”\n\nHer father reluctantly handed over her phone and she immediately texted Epic.\n\n*Are u OlympusDude1680?*\n\nThe reply was lightning fast.\n\n*What? Who’s that? Do I have competition already?*\n\n*OMG no…just a random Snap I got. Dad freaked and basically made me promise not 2 open it. Parents can b so paranoid sometimes, u know?*\n\n*I saw the thing on the news about it…I think ur dad is right, Dor. You probs shouldn’t open that Snap. Just delete it or whatever.*\n\n*Ugh, not u 2. Ur just worried it’s from another cute boy.*\n\n*O, so u think I’m cute, huh?*\n\n*I won’t delete it but I won’t open it, either. It expires in 24hrs anyway. I’ll just leave it and it will disappear on its own. I’ve gotta get ready for bed. Night, bae.*\n\nThe next day in math class, Dora couldn’t concentrate. Not because her teacher was droning on and on about Pythagorean Theorem, but because she kept thinking about that darn Snap! Who could it be from? What if it was one of her friends from her old school, trying to get in touch with her? What if it was someone from her new school and they thought she was a snob for not responding?\n\nShe opened up Snapchat and peeked at the notification. \"Expiring in 8 hours.\" Her dad did feel pretty strongly about it. Not to mention her new boyfriend telling her not to open it.\n\nThe rest of the school day crawled by. In English class, Dora spent so much time waffling over whether or not to open the Snap that her phone actually got taken away by the teacher. That was a bit of a relief, actually. When she got it back, the urge to open the Snap was stronger than ever before.\n\nShe somehow managed to make it through the rest of the school day. That night before dinner, she peeked at the notification again. “Expiring in 32 minutes.”\n\nGood. Only 32 more minutes. What felt like an eternity later, she checked her phone again. Surely it had to be gone by now. “Expiring in 20 minutes.”\n\nShe couldn’t help it. She left the app open, watching the expiration notice count down the minutes. When it read, “Expiring in 1 minute.” She clicked it open, almost as if her finger had a mind of its own.\n\nImmediately, her phone began vibrating. A dark animation of hundreds of moths fluttered creepily across her screen. “Congratulations, you have released the virus. It will now be transmitted to all of your contacts, and all of their contacts, and all of their contacts, and so on.”\n\nThen, her phone caught fire.\n\nWith a shriek, she flung it onto her bed and quickly doused the flames with her blanket. She heard her dad running up the stairs. He burst into her bedroom, looking panicked.\n\n“Dora, are you all right? What happened? Is that…is that your PHONE? You opened the Snap, didn’t you?”\n\nDora nodded sheepishly.\n\n“I TOLD you not to open that stupid Snap, Dora! Now look at what’s happened! Your phone is melted! If you think I’m buying you another one, you’ve got another thing coming. Those Note 7 phones don’t grow on trees, you know.” He turned and left her room.\n\nDora hung her head and headed to her computer, where she opened up her Facebook.\n\n“Dinner’s ready!” her dad called.\n\n“Coming, dad!” she yelled back. She just needed to update her status really quick.\n\n\n*HMU on here if you need me, my phone is toast. At least my computer isn’t fried. #stillhavehope*\n"
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[WP] Your beloved dog/cat is dying of old age. You're beside him/her and you hear a voice on your mind... He/she is asking you to accept him/her as your spirit animal for the rest of your life | 43 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"The wolf appeared on his very first hunt as he was trekking through the snow. \n\nHe was trembling. The crossbow in his hands felt so very heavy and the dark of the night seemed to press around him. \n\nHe was a Hunter now. That meant he had to Hunt. It was that or die out here in the woods. The old men would certainly have no use for an orphan like him if he did not do as he was told. \n\nBut as he was passing through a lonely grove, he saw icy blue eyes glinting in the light of the moon. \n\nHe raised his crossbow.\n\nThe wolf stepped out of the darkness, stirring up a faint whisper of powdery snow. Its fur was white, almost glowing in the moonlight. Its mouth was a pitch black that grew open in a smile, revealing a deep red tongue.\n\nHe set down his crossbow as it drew near. Somehow he knew it didn't mean him harm. He patted its head, admiring its glorious coat. It rushed forward. \n\nHe waited in the clearing for a moment, wondering if it had disappeared. \n\nThen he saw icy blue eyes in the shadows. He smiled and followed. \n\nThe wolf was always by his side thereafter. She would show him where the bodies were that he needed to collect and burn. She would even help sometimes to distract the Beast he was hunting. \n\nHe was not alone, anymore. There was a little mother taking care of the warmth he needed, of the companionship he sometimes feared he would never have. \n\nThe villagers did not like the wolf. They shunned him even more when it had appeared. He would see them eyeing the wolf with unpleasant intent whenever he returned to the village. But they could not touch the wolf's almost man-sized form. They did not dare to approach him with the saw on his back and the crossbow in his hand. \n\nBut there was something that hunted the wolf as well. He knew it, could feel it watching him sometimes on nights when the moon was full. The wolf was especially jittery, declining to howl when its brethren did. \n\nHe found out what it was on the night he ascended to the Castle. \n\nIt was an old, ancient castle buried deep in the mountains. The old men had sent him there. They wanted to try to get rid of him again with an impossible mission. It didn't matter. He was not afraid of some castle from which no Hunter returned. He was not like the other Hunters who wandered alone through the icy cold land. \n\nThe wolf whined and nearly refused to go. He encouraged it along, stroking its furred side. It slunk beneath his shadow as he drew closer to the tall spires. It crept behind him as he pushed open those aged doors. \n\n\"Ah...at last you come home, my pet.\" \n\nA man was waiting for him, sitting on the grand steps of the castle. He was dressed as a noble of some ancient time, a luxurious coat of fine velvet spread before his feet. His face was sunless. His smile was fanged. \n\nHe froze. A Vampire. A true Nosferatu. \n\nHe wondered how he would get out of this alive. The wolf lunged in front of him, growling protectively. \n\nIn an instant, the vampire struck, lunging forward as well. Its human shape was lost as it surged forward, replaced by some beastly bat-like thing. The wolf howled as its talons found grip within its fur, streaking red across its pure white fur. \n\nHe lunged forward with his saw, striking the vampire on the neck. Its flesh parted but it had shifted back fast enough and its spine was unbroken. It snarled and jumped on him, picking him up with one enormous hand. \n\nIt threw him before he had time to react. He slammed into the walls of the castle. He felt something crack in his chest. He slumped to the ground, iron filling into his mouth. \n\nHe tried to pull himself up. \n\nThe wolf was defending him again. It went between him and the vampire every time the vampire tried to lunge. The wolf's coat was red by now, very very red. At last the vampire grew tired of the interference, it spread its wings, leaping into the air and diving down towards the wolf before biting, deeply, into its throat. \n\nThe wolf screamed. He drew his crossbow. His vision blurred slightly but he took careful aim, a prayer under his breath. \n\nHe released the arrow. \n\nThe vampire exploded in a cloud of dust. He crawled over slowly until he was beside the dying wolf. Their blood mingled on the ground, joining into a puddle of life liquid that was freezing up in the winter's cold. \n\nHe felt very cold. He couldn't quite breathe anymore. \n\nThen the wolf's eyes met his. He felt his heart twitch, as if in sympathetic beat to another's. \n\nA request passed between them. It was inaudible, just a feeling inside his mind, like something too sacred to speak out loud. \n\n\"I accept you, dear friend.\" was all he said in reply. How could he not, when his dear friend was dying because of his pride and folly? \n\nThey shut their eyes at the same time. \n\nHe opened his eyes a while later. The moon was full. He knew it instinctively even though he could not see beyond the castle walls. \n\nSlowly, he rose. His balance was a little off. He padded carefully out through the castle doors. \n\nHe howled lowly in the dark night. ",
"It had been a good 15 years. We'd gotten Gracie as a bright, energetic pup from my uncle, who hadn't been able to give her the room she needed to thrive, due to him living in the city. So when he asked me, a 10-year-old boy, if I wanted a dog, I said yes! Then I had to convince mom and dad to let me take her home out into the country with us. Dad was easy, but mom took a bit of convincing. I had to swear that I would take care of her on my own, but I had no problems with that, I was happy to have a friend!\n\nI wasn't always a great owner. I was an angry child before I hit my upper teenage years and began to develop some real empathy. I wouldn't say I was ever outright cruel, but I certainly was far more loud and angry with her before she really learned how to let us know she needed to go outside. But by and large, we had the best friendship I'd ever known in my life. We ran together, swam together, ate together, slept on my bed together, and I would even swear to you that there were times we laughed together, with her lolling her tongue about as I cackled my silly little head off. \n\nShe always was a bit smarter than any dog any of my friends had, or any other I ever met anywhere. She learned a bunch of words on her own, without me even trying to teach her! We had to start spelling out things like C-A-R, B-A-L-L, S-T-I-C-K, and even D-I-N-N-E-R. She was smart enough to figure out how to work a both a simple lever-handle door knob and a button latch door knob, and she even knew to wait until we left the house before trying to get into the trash if we had thrown away any of her favorite people foods. There were times where I would even swear that I'd turn to look at her, and catch her staring back at me with a look in her eyes that was more than just a slack stare. I always just chalked it up to my own imagination. \n\nUnfortunately, all things come to an end. She had already started slowing down when I went off to college. And then I only saw her for about 3 and a half months a year for the next 4 years. Then when I got home after graduation, I was shocked to actually see her. Her muzzle had gone gray. She was frightfully skinny. Her legs shook any time she stood in one spot for more than a minute or two. She couldn't run much, and her appetite grew smaller and smaller. But her eyes never lost their spark. She kept looking at me, still laughing with me and making that face that I still swear was a smile. \n\nBut then the day came. I woke up, and she was standing on the floor next to my bed. I had been helping her up into the bed at night lately, since she couldn't get into it on her own. And then in the morning I'd have to let her down, since she couldn't get down on her own without looking like she was in pain. So I found it odd she got down without my help. But I looked at her and as she looked back at me, I noticed there was a new look in her eyes. I tried to give her some breakfast, and see if she's thirsty, but she doesn't seem to want anything. I go about my morning, doing some chores and getting ready for the day. At some point I realize that Gracie isn't by my side like she usually is in the morning. I look around, and find her lying on her side in front of the door leading outside. I try to check how she's doing, but every time I touch her, she yelps in pain. It slowly dawns on me, that there is nothing left for her here on earth. Just as I come to this realization, she seems to look me right in the eyes, and it looks like she gives me a small nod. I go and gather up one of our favorite blankets that we've shared many times, then slowly and gently gather her up into my arms. I carefully walk with her out to my car, before making a quick phone call as I start driving.\n\n As we make our way down the road, I talk with her about all the adventures we've had. I describe to her how excited I was as we drove her out to our house when we got her. I apologize for not being more patient as she was learning what was expected of her at her new home. I tell her how proud of her I was that she always got along well with the barn cats and the goats and the cows and how brave of her it was that she always helped to defend the house when our neighbor's pigs would get loose and try to dig up our yard looking for truffles. And then just as I finish laughing as I remind her of the time that I had to wash her down since she got sprayed by a skunk, we arrive at our destination. \n\nI get out of the car, gently lift her out, and then carry her inside. When we get through the door, we are greeted by a pleasant young lady who directs us to a room down the hall. As we enter the room, we see an older man in a white coat, smiling at us.\n\n\"This must be Gracie! Come on over here so I can take a look at you.\"\n\nI set her down on the cushion he has laid out on the table as he pulls out his equipment. He shines a light into her eyes, uses a tongue depressor to check her throat, and even listens to her heartbeat. She endures his tender ministrations without complaint. But then he tries to feel her joints and she yelps again. After asking me a couple of questions, he looks at her again. \n\n\"I understand, son. I'll be back in a moment.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\" Is all I can manage to reply. \n\nHe leaves us and I sit down close to her on the cushioned table. I scratch her neck in the special spot I found many, many years that always made her open her mouth in what had to be a giant smile. \n\n\"I know it hurts, girl. But he'll be back in a moment with some medicine to take away the pain. It won't hurt anymore at all, I promise. It won't hurt at all.\" \n\nTears filling my eyes, I hug her close to me, and I can tell she's trying not to yelp so I let go, and then the doctor walks in. He walks over next to us, and looks at her, then me, before reaching into his pocket. \n\n\"Do you have anything to say before she goes to sleep?\" \n\nI scoot a little closer and prop her head in my lap before responding. \n\n\"I love you Gracie.\" \n\nThe older man silently uncaps the needle that had appeared in his hand as he stood behind her.\n\nShe turns her head and looks at me, that old sparkle back in her eyes. \n\n\"You're going to sleep for a while. I'm not sure when you will wake up. But it's to make you better. And I promise you, that I will be there when you wake up. I'll be there and we can run, and chase squirrels, and play tug-of-war over sticks, and even eat some pizza! And our adventures will go on and on. Now sleep girl, and I'll see you in a while.\"\n\nI lean down and gently rest my forehead against hers as the man administers the shot. She slowly, so slowly, goes limp in my arms. After her body has gone totally limp, the man tells me to take all the time I need as he steps outside. It is then that I let the tears flow. \n\nAnd then suddenly, someone says my name. I look around, bewildered because I don't remember telling anybody here my name. Then I turn all the way around, and I see my Gracie standing on the floor! Shocked, I look back at my own lap, only to see her limp body still lying there. I hear my name again, and then I can tell that it's coming from the Gracie on the floor! I look at her closely, and notice now that she seems somewhat translucent. \n\n\"Hey, can I be your spirit animal? Most people never develop a close enough bond with their pets to be given this choice. But we were something special! So what do you say? Do you really wanna keep adventuring together?\" \n\nJust as I open my mouth to try to...something, I'm not even sure what, I'm cut off. \n\n\"And oh yea, I love you too. But now\nI can tell you in ways you understand.\"\n\nI'm sure the old man and young lady were beyond confused as to why I walked out of there with a huge smile on my face as I carried my old best friend out of there. But why shouldn't I smile? I had just gotten my young best friend back, and better than ever!"
] | [
1,
3,
7
] | [
"1485200127",
"1485221455",
"1485223904"
] | |
[WP] A drive-thru experience written as a soap opera | 5 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"Welcome to Burger Hut, would you like to try our new mouthwatering heart attack bacon cheese burger today?\" \n \n\"S-Sarah? But it can't be.\" \n \n\"Douglas? Douglas is that you?\" \n \n\"Sarah! But Sarah I was there. The mob had you killed by their blood thirsty assassin three years ago. How? Let me pull up. Let me see you.\" \n \n\"No! Douglas you can't see me! YOU CAN'T! - Not until you place your order. Now, would you like to try our new heart attack bacon cheese burger today?\" \n \n\"But Sarah, I have to.\"\n \n\"Douglas, it just can't happen with us... not unless... what will your order be?\" \n \n\"I'll have a cheeseburger. No bacon. Make it a value meal with fries and a large drink. I'll also have a plain hamburger- make that a value meal too. Make the drinks 2 cokes.\" \n \n\"2 **cokes** Douglas?\" \n \n\"For my wife and I, yes.\" \n \n\"YOUR WIFE! Well that will be $15.87. You can - pull up now.\" \n \n~~~~~~~ \n \n\"Here! Here's your meal you cheating bastard! I can't believe you would marry again, after all we had together. But it's fine. It's really fine. Take your stupid meal and never see me again.\" \n \n\"But Sarah. Sarah - I thought you were dead. It had been three years. I had to move on.\" \n \n\"MOVE ON Douglas? MOVER ON! Don't you know, I'm carrying your child!\" \n \n\"But how? How? That's impossible!\" \n \n\"Of course you'd say that. You say that about everything. Go be with your **wife**.\" \n \n\"Answer me, Sarah! How are you here, and at Burger hut. You're an heiress!\" \n \n\"Was an heiress. Then the mob hired an assassin. But Douglas, what you don't know is that the assassin was in love with me. He only made it looked like he killed me. The result of the blow to the head left me with amnesia though. I lived with him for 2.5 years. One day, I was cleaning up above the cabinets in the kitchen, and I fell and I was knocked out. When I came to, the memories came back - You Douglas - You came back. I ran away before he - Jean Pierre - came home that day. I have to lay low, you know. Keep out of trouble.\" \n \n\"But my child?\" \n \n\"Oh Douglas, when I got back to town I heard you died in the war. I lost everything including you, But I remembered the backup plan we had in case you were ever going to be sent over the border to fight against the uprising. You left a legacy just in case. Oh Douglas, I was beside myself. So I went to the specialists and I had them give me a little piece of you. And now you're here and we can't be together!\" So go. Just go and be with her. Enjoy your new life Douglas!\" \n \n\"But Sarah - our baby. The Mob! I have to protect you. I'll leave Arabella. I'm yours. I'll be yours.\" \n \n\"HEY ASS HOLE! YOU BEEN HOLDEN UP THE LINE! MOVE THE FUCK ON!\"\n \n\n \n"
] | [
1,
2
] | [
"1485210967",
"1485212833"
] | |
[WP]: For some inexplicable reason, everyone in the office is politely pretending not to notice that your boss is a massive rhinocerous. | 19 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Wow, that was a good cup of coffee! gotta make sure i don't miss my bus, it's my first day at work after all. i think to myself as i perform my morning routine. as i step out of my house i start feeling nervous. oh man, i really hope i don't do anything embarassing! as i step into my bus i see 5 zookeepers. huh, thats a pretty rare sight. especially in a town where the nearest zoo is 13 miles away. i wonder where they are going. the only logical place i can think of is the pet shop. i tell myself not to worry about it, and i start checking my phone. 12:23pm. i need to be there at 1, so ill be in time for sure. five minutes later we pass the pet shop. the zookeepers stay on the bus. i guess they might go to a circus or a play. as i arrive at the location where i need to be, i see the zookeepers step out of the bus as well. i walk to the building, and the zookeepers follow me. at this point i ask them why they are here. \"Oh you're the new guy! these are just our uniforms, don't worry about it.\" i take the elevator to the top floor and sit down at my new desk. i notice a weird smell, so distracting that i ask one of my co-workers what it might be. \"Smell? What smell?\" Then it hits me. oh my god. the zookeepers, the smell, not seeing the boss anywhere. the boss is an animal!\ni walk up to one of the zookeepers and ask him where i can meet the boss. \"He's on the 5th floor, in the 3rd room. as i take the elevator the smell starts getting stronger and stronger. i knock on the door. no response, i decide to just walk in. and yes, as i walk in i see a gigantic rhino chewing on some grass. i run upstairs and ask my co-workers what is happening. one of the zookeepers says: \"what is going on with you today?\" another one says: \"just take a day off man, you're hallucinating\"\nPLOT TWIST! I SNORTED 3 LINES OF COKE THE NIGHT BEFORE",
"“And I almost forget to show you the most important thing in the office. This room here is our safe-space.” - said Bill.\n\n“Pardon? What do you mean by safe-space?” - asked Mary who was new in the office.\n\n“Well you know we are rally proud of our progressive working culture. This room serves as sanctuary in case anything happens we can hide here. Look at the door, it can withstand 20 tons of force which is very useful sometimes.”\n\n“I still don’t understand why we need this room here. I thought this is a regular office job.” \n\n“Yes of course it is. We rarely use it, but just in case I’ve shown it to you.”\n\n“Why is the door full of dents? And what is this noise?”\n\n“Oh, nothing to worry about. That’s just Malcolm.”\n\n“Who is he?”\n\n“He’s the GM of this office. He’s with us for a month now since the reorganization of the company. You know, there was too much corruption so they decided on a corporate level to send him here.”\n\n“What did happen with the previous guy? Is he in prison?”\n\n“He didn’t make it there. It was a really unfortunate situation. Malcolm tried to explain to him that from that day he would take over the duties of the GM and so his services are not longer needed. He didn’t want to understand it and they’ve got into an argument and there was an accident. You know how these things happen sometimes.”\n\nMary was speechless. She was thinking about leaving but she desperately needed the money. And apart from this story everybody seemed really nice.\n\n“Come, I’ll show you your desk.” - said Bill.\n\n“What is that?” - asked Mary in shock pointing towards the end of the office.\n\n“He is Malcolm.”\n\n“But..he is a rhino..”\n\n“We are against any kind of discrimination at this company so please don’t say that next time. Everyone has the same chance to prove their value in the workplace regardless of gender, age, sexual orientation or race.”\n\n“But that’s...” \n\nMary wanted to say something but she stopped when she saw on of her coworker running away from Malcolm’s office while shouting:\n\n“I gave him the numbers but he didn’t like it. Everyone run to the shelter..!!”",
"The first thing I noticed was the smell. More than any office I'd worked in before, Henrikson Global Solutions had the distinct odor of too many bodies packed together, like the subway, but with an added element of existential dissatisfaction. But, eager to make the most of my first day, I quickly wrote it off to some indistinct circulation problem.\n\nA plain man in a plain suit apologized as he showed me to the roll away desk that would serve as my workstation while they renovate the east offices. While crammed into a nook ten feet from the printer isn't typically the ideal locale for a peaceful and productive workday, it did leave me a stones throw from the double doors of the boss's office and I was determined to get some face time on day one. The smell of trimmed grass joined the other office smells as I struggled to adjust the height on my chair.\n\nA thunderous STOMP jolted me from my struggle. A scanned the office, unable to pinpoint the direction of the sound, the cubicles creating a makeshift echo chamber that made it seem as though it were coming from everywhere at once. What I did discover was that everyone else had continued work unabated. I flagged down a plain woman in a plain pantsuit and asked what seemed to be a painfully obvious question.\n\n“What the h- what was that?”\n\n“Hmm? Oh the stomp. That was just Greg. Probably getting restless. He should be out to make his rounds any minute now.”\n\nMy disappointment with that answer was interrupted by the double doors of the bosses office being flung open, swinging all the way into the wall and coming off their hinges. A custodian sidled in with a screwdriver and new hinge as a massive rhinoceros wearing a paisley tie strode through the opening. It slowly walked the perimeter of the cubicle farm, munching on a shock of tall grass, its gaze drifting from the cubicles on his left to the offices on his right. It stopped a few times to shake his head or nod towards a person I couldn't see.\n\nNearing the end of its loop, the creature turned its head to me. What couldn't have been more than a few seconds seemed like an eternity with my face mere inches from the animal's. I tried not to look at its tie but my eyes betrayed me, if only for an instant, and I could almost swear I saw the rhino roll its eyes at me.\n\nAfter a few moments, he made his way back into his office, preposterously closing the freshly repaired doors behind him.\n\nMy mouth agape, I turned back to the plain woman in a plain pantsuit. She cut me off before my addled mind could construct any of the hundred thoughts I had into a sentence.\n\n“Isn't Greg just the funniest?”"
] | [
1,
1,
3,
5
] | [
"1485274066",
"1485274890",
"1485277803",
"1485275078"
] | |
[WP] After you see someone get hit by a bus, you realize that you are a sadistic sicko. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"It all just happened so fast. \n\nAt first it was maybe some kind of shock, but it didn't take long for it to mutate into something else.\n\n\n\"She fucking bounced man, the bus hit her and I swear to God, she bounced off it, then she bounced again off the ground.\" I said, trying hard not to get too excited about it. The Boston Pizza bar was not the best place to be revealing too much about my very socially unacceptable feelings about these things. Everyone in town already thought I was a creep, I didn't need to go encouraging it any more.\n\nFredrik took a sip of his drink, clearly not paying much attention to my first hand account of the days news. It was all over the T.V. Small town and whatnot...word travels fast up here. Not to mention the fact that I had \nprobably said the exact same thing 17 times. \n\n'Calm down...calm down, and shut up before you sink yourself further Wolfgang.' I said to myself in my head.\n\n'You're not right...whats wrong with you Wolf?' I answered back.\n\n'I can't help it...at least I'm being honest.' I replied.\n\n'Well, maybe you should get someone else to help it, it's not normal.'\n\n\"HA!\" I laughed out loud, Fredrik turned and looked at my quizzically. \"What the Hell are you laughing about now freak?\" He asked, still barely listening, the hockey game was on one of the big screens. Montreal VS Boston...he hated Boston...so do I. \"Huh?\" I asked. I didn't realize I had laughed out loud.\n'Idiot. Focus on the game, focus on the game.'\n\n\"Nothin' I remembered something someone said at work today.\" I replied calmly. \"Wolf...you didn't go to work today...It's Saturday.\" Fredrik, turned and looked at me with a raised eyebrow as he said it. I think he always knew there was a bit more going on in my head then I let on. Or maybe I just sucked at hiding it...after all, we had known each other for 13 years. \n\n'Fuck...'\n\n'Stop talking to yourself and say something normal dumbass.'\n\n'Right...uh.\n\n\"Right...uh.\" I mumbled, then I hid myself in my rum and coke. \"You're crackin' up more than usual tonight there bud. That accident get into your head?\" He asked. There was a commercial on the T.V. \n'That's why he's chatty now...the game isn't on.'\n\n'So say something! React for fuck sakes.'\n\n'Say what? Now he’s got me thinking about the accident again.'\n\n\"Ya, I guess...Maybe a bit.\" I said absently. The argument taking place in my head was getting the best of me.\n\n'Drink more...drink more and shut-up.'\n\n\"You're awfully quiet now...couldn't get you to shut-up 10 minutes ago.\" Fred said, then the game came back on and his attention was turned back to Boston getting their asses handed to them. I looked around the bar and the other degenerates sitting along perverts row...drowning themselves in alcohol at a Boston Pizza.\n\n'Man, how did I end up in this shit show?'\n\n'You walked through the door genius, how else?'\n\n'Fuck off...leave me be for a little bit please...just, ya know-'\n\n'Give you a break?'\n\n'Ya, that would be fucking glorious actually...'\n\n'A glorious break eh? Like the way that bus gloriously broke that girls skull today?\n'That was pretty glorious actually. You got me there.'\n\n'Freak'\n\nI smiled, holding my glass up and staring at my reflection in the mirror behind the lines of liquor bottles behind the bar.\n\n'You know it. Cheers'\n\nThen I downed what was left in the glass and signaled the bartender to let him know I'd like another.\n\n'Okay, stop being a creep and talk to Fred...he knows somethings up. He keeps shooting you questionable looks.'\n\nI looked at Fred discreetly. Or at least, what I thought was discreetly, obviously not so much though because he turned at looked right back. \"Whats up?\" He asked, a tone of suspicion in his voice. \"You've got lovely eyes, you know that?\" I said comically. I was just trying to lighten the mood a little, perhaps. I’ve ever been the best at that kind of thing. Generally rutal honesty was my tactic.\"You're so fucked up.\" He replied. He raised his glass and took a sip, still watching me carefully. Then Boston scored a goal. \n\nSlamming his glass, and his other hand down on the bar and scaring the shit out of half the people around us he yelled, \"Aw! FUCK off! What the Hell was that guys, come on get it together...Oi,\" Waving his hand once in the air to get the bartenders attention. \"Can I get another one of these down here?!\" He shouted. I glanced around to see how much attention was just drawn to us. There were a few pairs of eyes on us that was for sure, they made me uncomfortable...as if they could see where my mind wandered. Meanwhile, Fred continued to rant about how he missed the shot because he was talking to me. Dick.\n\n'You should get out of here.'\n\n'Oh yeah? And where am I going to?'\n\n'Don't ask stupid questions, you're talking to yourself, you know where you’re gonna go.'\n\n'No I don't.'\n\n'Yeah you do, creep. Pay your tab and bounce out of here before the rush.\n\n'Rush? Its a tiny town, there is no rush.'\n\n'See? Stop making excuses, just get it done and go. Give in and go look.'\n\n'Fuck.'\n\nI grabbed my drink and shot it back in two gulps, then I waved and made a 'Check' sign in the air, the bartender nodded and went over to the register. Fredrik had seen it, though I tried to be discreet. \"Oi, where the Hell are you going? The game just started man, whats up?\" He asked, clearly catching on to my distracted state. \"I gotta go Fred, I'm just not feelin' too great tonight. I don't know...I'm tired.\" I replied casually, \"I think I'm just gonna go home and watch a movie or something.\" Fred shook his head. \"Don't let it get into your head Wolf, you're diving too deep again, I can see it.\" \n\n'See, I told you, He's your best friend, of course he notices when somethings up.'\n\n'The damage is already done, now it's harm reduction. Pay your bill, and bounce.\n\n'Ya...I guess.'\n\n\"Ya, I guess...\" I said. I looked at my tab as it was handed to me...$36.94. I handed him back two twenties. \n\"Keep the change.\" I said, then patting Fred on the shoulder, \"Night Fred, I'll see ya tomorrow.\" \"Ya man, text me when you wanna go pick up that carburetor, if buddy still wants to get rid of it.\" Fred replied, eyes fixed back on the hockey game. \"Will do, night man. Get home safe.\" I said, then I headed for the door. The walk home wasn't long, but I took a detour.\n\n'Where are you going?'\n\n'You know damn well were we're going...don't kid yourself.'\n\n'What's wrong with me?'\n\n'You know the answer to that too, you're just making it worse now...building it up into something it's not.\n\n'Something its not? I want to go look at the blood on the street, I want to relive her head smashing off that window. The glass breaking, the bus slamming on the breaks...too late, pinning her under the wheels. The way she screamed at first. The gurgling sounds in her throat last...then nothing. It turns you on, gets your motor running...know what I mean?'\n\nI thought about it for a second as I approached the spot where it had happened.\n\nNo hesitation.\n\nI took a deep breath and put my hands in my pockets.\n\n\n'Ya...I do know what you mean.'"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1485300678",
"1485311856"
] | |
[WP] There's a new drug on the street. It's called Good Samaritan and it makes you do nice things for other people. | 233 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Jerry woke up. He saw the yellow, peeling paint of his ceiling and was reminded of just how far he had fallen. He couldn’t keep a job and had to pay his section 8 rent with welfare checks. His blankets were wet with sweat and every time he moved, he was greeted with a the slightly swampy smell of laundry that had been left in the machine over night. \n\nThe pit in his stomach told him he was nothing. The bare, bubbling walls agreed with him, and the blank digital clock offered no objection. He couldn’t keep a job, he was worthless in relationships, and really, he deserved it every time someone called him trash. \n\nHe went to bed with a sense of purpose, but must have slept off the high. Uppers didn’t let him sleep and downers didn’t give him that drive. Jerry picked his jeans off of the floor and slipped them on. He fished around in the pocket and pulled out some wadded up bills. There should be just enough for another hit. Tomorrow be damned, he was going to be somebody today. He tripped over a toy car his little brother left out and made his way to the front door.\n\nJerry slipped into his sneakers and out of his apartment, locking the front door because as bad as he felt, there was always someone who hit rock bottom and dug a few inches deeper. He made his way past the soup kitchen and into the alley between the library and the Habitat for Humanity. A gold glint told him his dealer was waiting for him. \n\n“Back for more?”\n\nJerry looked back at the entrance to the alley. “How much?”\n\n“We’re cool.” The dealer smiled that grin of his, gold tooth catching a bit of light in the dark alley. “Second hit is on me. We’ll talk next time.” He held out a baggie with a pill and Jerry snatched it, ripping the pill out and downing it with a dry swallow. \n\nJerry nodded at the dealer. “Thanks man, you’re an awesome person.” He felt the first rush. \n\nHe left the alley and walked down the street, the high already fading. There were some kids playing ball in the street. A car turned the corner and he shouted the usual warning. They scurried out and he felt amazing but that little good deed faded as quick as it came.\n\nHe had to help people. Yesterday he had been chased out of the grocery store parking lot for trying to help people load their cars, and the old lady *did not* appreciate him trying to help her cross the street. There had to be some place that people needed help. Last night, he pulled some jerk boyfriend off of a poor girl and set them straight, but that had carried him through the night.\n\nToday, he needed to be somebody. He needed to help somebody. He stumbled into his apartment and picked up the toy car he stumbled over earlier. His brother was still out playing. He fired up the old computer and began applying for student aid. Several grants came through immediately but others required an essay. The typed one up, sent it off, and got a rush. \n\nHe applied to an online university. The preliminary checks came in good and it looked like he’d get a full ride. He got another rush, this time tinged with a sense of purpose. He spent the day applying for grants, planning his degree, and planning his future career.\n\nThe next morning, Jerry woke up. He saw the yellow, peeling paint and was reminded of just how far he had fallen, but he rolled over and saw his printed out grant applications and knew just how far he had to go to make a better life for his brother.\n",
"A dealer's first rule is *never use the product.* In this case, I took every precaution to avoid temptation. All the way from keeping a double lidded system on my drugs to wearing substance preventative masks twenty-four hours a day. To nab a hit of *Samaritan* unexpectedly is as bad as saying goodbye to years of hard work. It's a catch 22 that the worthwhile things in life are often the most difficult to keep safe. \n\nThere was a rap on the door, five knocks, a system my boys used to signal a high roller was coming through. This prompted a switch up on my guns position, sliding it under the table into a loading slot. I shifted a bucket sized ration of Samaritan centre table and hit the buzzer on the side of my desk. \n\nThe door cracked open. \n\n\"Boss, Lars Devenison is here from Upstate.\" \n\nThis guy Lars was some thug that had made it big selling coke and small-k, some of the cheap addict driven products. I'd heard about him while chatting with the boys, thing is, what Lars considered big was peanut change in my industry. \n\n\"Send him through . . .\" I placed the gun back on the table. \n\nLars Devenison wore a fur white coat with watches more like wall clocks on either arm. His golden plated teeth screamed bad taste and the white cowboy hat shrouding his widow peak looked fashioned from the previous year's gay pride parade. All in all, the guy's ego had ballooned far above his playing field. It was time I cut Lars down to size. \n\n\"Merick Blint,\" he said, taking a seat opposite. His two security guards wore t-shirts two sizes too tight and had their hair gelled back in a way that made me crack a smirk. The only thing these guys had going for them was their muscles, and those didn't matter when hot metal was the verdict. \"I'm here to buy some of that product, Saramingtons?\"\n\nKid couldn't even get the name right. \"*Samaratin*,\" I said, \"and what makes you think you're worth my business?\" \n\nHe glanced at either of his boys and then flashed a million dollar smile. \"Round my parts I'm the big cat and I could peddle your shit all the way through the litter. You call the shots, I take a cut, we're all happy.\"\n\n\"Bullshit,\" I said. No one that had made it was this stupid. You didn't simmer down and suck up like new cats, you showed your worth in cash. \n\nLars smirked. \"You're right, I was fishing for a reaction.\" \n\nI hit the blue button under my desk, which would alert the boys that we had a time-waster and things could get out of hand. They'd be ready for my next signal.\n\n\"I've got something better than *Samaritan* and so I want to get in,\" Lars continued. \n\n\"Don't play with me or my time.\"\n\nHe waved me off, pulling a wad of cash from his side pocket and slamming it on the table next to my narcotic. \"It's fake money, looks as good as the real stuff.\"\n\nI hit the third button, the boys were on their way. \"If I was here to peddle petty cash then I'd be a fucking banker, not a dealer. Take your ass back up-state.\" \n\nLars stood, hands up in defense. \"For real, this isn't something you'll want to miss. Just look at the stack, smell it, tell me it doesn't feel real or burn real. I'll leave, no noise.\"\n\nThe boys would barge in any minute now, ready to wreck havoc on this kid. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, just this once. I fanned the stack, checking each bill, and then sniffed getting that same paper smell with a hint of chemicals. \"Not bad,\" I said, having dealt with money most of my life I knew a good fake when I saw one, \"but it smells like laboratory candy. This shit won't fly.\"\n\nLars's grin sent my insides boiling. The kid could go from serious to a bozo in a minute. \"You don't know that smell?\" \n\n\"I told you not to play with me-\"\n\n\"That's your product,\" Lars said. \n\nMy fast heartbeat was the first response, something I should have clued in on. Then the subtle twitches that I'd heard so much about. Samaritan made you good, matter of fact, it made you so damn good you made church nuns look like devil saints. \n\nThe doors flung open and my guys came in with guns levelled. Lars hit the wall, his two body gaurds had their own guns poised ready to go all out. \n\n\"Need us to take care of this, boss?\" One of my guys asked. \n\nWhat came over me was uncontrollable, like thick silver of my tongue that controlled each contraction of the muscle. \"I need you to do a job,\" I said, \"all of you.\"\n\nThe men in the room looked my way. \n\n\"Take every gram of Simaritan from my drawers, room, safety stash and disperse it amongst the city. Give it to everyone, man, woman and child. Today is the day we share our love --with the world.\" \n\n",
"\"Sir, we have to push it through to the senate. This is exactly what New York needs after the waves of violence recently.\"\n\n\"You can't push this through to anyone Hannibal. It is a drug and it will not be used in the criminal correction process.\n\nWe have community service, halfway houses, parole. The process isn't perfect but it will be destroyed by the introduction of drugs. Drugs we don't know the consequences of using, I might add.\"\n\n\"So we'll run tests on it, trials, the whole nine yards. I'm telling you, this drug is revolutionary. We won't force anyone to take it but the law could allow for an assisted parole if prisoners get out on good behavior.\"\n\n_____\n\n**1 year later**\n\n*A man was just put in custody after an alleged act of sexual harassment, while on Good Samaritan. He is now being questioned.*\n\n\"Sir, please answer truthfully. Were you and are you now under the influence of Good Samaritan?\"\n\n\"Yes, I'm on parole, I gotta take this once a day.\"\n\n\"And did you harass women under the influence of Good Samaritan?\"\n\n\"No Sir. No I did not.\"\n\n\"Did you or did you not catcall women under the influence of Good Samaritan?\"\n\n\"Yes I did, but hear me out. They like it, it feels good. I just gotta acknowledge when I see a lady, that they know they did a good thing today, getting up out of bed.\"\n\n\"That's all we needed to hear, thank you for your honesty.\"\n\n\"Wait, are you trying to say they don't like it?\"\n\n\"No, they don't like catcalling.\"\n\n\"Aww, come on man.\"",
"McCluskey sighed at the body as the medical examiners loaded it -- *him*; it was still a person, no matter how little was left of it -- into the back of the van. Twenty-two years on the force, fifteen in narcotics, and somehow it never got any easier.\n\n'Samaritan?' he asked the beat cop who was first on the scene.\n\nThe young man nodded, and then paused as though even that slight movement was going to be enough to make him throw up. He studiously avoided looking at the smear on the tarmac, the red that stood stark black under the streetlights. 'Looks like it, Sir,' he said. 'We've had a lot of reports of sellers in the neighbourhood recently.'\n\n'Unusual?' Maybe there was something in that -- a silver lining. Small-time dealers were everywhere, but if they could catch the guy who was making that shit...\n\nThe beat cop shook his head. 'Small scale. College kids, mostly. Just looking for a good time.'\n\n*A real good time*, McCluskey thought. *The time of his life, I bet. Right up until it killed him.* The idea sickened him. He didn't have children of his own, but if he had... well, they'd be around that kid's age. *There but for the grace of God...*, he thought. Just a couple of little pills, and he could have been on the other end of the phonecall he'd have to make later that night, finding out that his son wouldn't be coming home. He shuddered. He wouldn't wish that on anyone.\n\n'Tell me what happened,' McCluskey said.\n\nThe cop shrugged. 'I don't know for sure. I asked the witness a few questions, but she was pretty shaken up. The EMTs are with her now.'\n\n'Witness?'\n\n'Yeah.' He pointed over to an old woman -- eighty years old if she was a day -- sitting in an ambulance across the street, a foil blanket around her frail shoulders. A girl in a high-visibility jacket was tending to a nasty scrape on her forehead, but other than that the woman seemed fine. *What the hell was she doing out at this time of night?* McCluskey thought, but the rookie kept talking, interrupting his process. 'Says he pushed her out of the way of a car. The driver drove off, but we should be able to track him down from the license plate.'\n\nA hit and run. Never pretty -- but something didn't add up.\n\n'Wait a second,' McCluskey said, rubbing his eyes. 'You say he *pushed* her?'\n\n'Yes, Sir.'\n\n'Out of the way? He was safe, and he put himself in danger?'\n\n'I know. It sounded crazy to me too, but that's what she said. If it hadn't been for him, she would have been right in the path of the car, and...' He pointed down to the smear on the road. 'Would have been her.'\n\n*And the kid would still be alive.*\n\n'Jesus Christ. That's insane.' McCluskey's mouth was dry as a bone, his head spinning. He'd never heard of an act of altruism like that before. 'How many of those pills did he take?'\n\n'We won't know until the autopsy comes in. A lot, I'd bet. I've never seen anything like this. It's usually paying for people's coffee, maybe helping somebody fetch something down off a high shelf, but *this*...' He paused. 'Must have been an overdose, right?'\n\nMcCluskey's face hardened. 'Let's hope so. Either that, or he was a first-timer and didn't know how much to take. God, he should have been complimenting people on the subway, not sacrificing himself for someone who --' He stopped himself, but his meaning was obvious. *For someone who probably didn't have all that much longer to live.*\n\nIt was the rookie's turn to look concerned now. 'What's the alternative?' he asked. 'If not an overdose, I mean.'\n\nThere was a nagging feeling at the back of the older cop's mind, a feeling he couldn't quite get rid of: a news report from a couple of days earlier about a young woman who'd raced into a burning building to help save her neighbour's cat. She hadn't got out before the floor collapsed; they were still looking for the body. He hadn't made the link before, but now... Well, if there was one thing he'd learned about street drugs, it was that they always got stronger over time. Costs came down and the buyers got used to the high -- and people died. Maybe people were already dying.\n\n'If it's not,' he said slowly, 'then we might have a real problem on our hands.'\n\n_____\n\nIf you liked this story, you can find more over at /r/Portarossa.",
"A black Sedan rolled up in front of a broken down house. All the windows were smashed, yet simply replaced with sheets and wooden blanks. The door was slightly off its hinges, but still held on, whilst the decaying and dead grass lusted for water. A tall man came out of the Sedan wearing a full suit. He had short brown hair, a few tattoo's crawling out from the sleeves and onto his hands, as well as a couple scars adorning his visage. He inhaled through his nose deeply and swallowed the snot and spit that forced itself into his throat. \n\nKnock, knock, knock. Three light rattles onto the door, each one causing it to shake slightly. A few voices from inside could be heard murmuring, and one that was robust and very happy, as the scuttering of footsteps came towards the door. A young man leaned his head out the door.\n\n\"Oh, hey boss,\" he said, before opening the door wider. \"Thought you were the cops.\"\n\n\"What kinda cop just knocks on a door.\" The Boss said as he pushed the door open and marched passed him. Inside, several men with masks on were mixing powders, ethanol, detergents and every other precious thing you could find under a kitchen sink together. Several had burning red eyes. Perhaps from a lack of sleep, more likely from ingesting something to keep themselves awake. \n\nOne was smiling to himself as he worked, only occasionally to stop to air-drum to a rhythm inside his own head. The Boss stared him down with a scowl, before speaking to everyone. \n\n\"How are we all today lads?\" He said with a gigantic grin and a powerful voice. It boomed, like a gun, and echoed inside the heads of everyone in the room. A couple low voices replied, \"Fine,\" \"Good,\" \"Surviving.\" \n\n\"I'm great!\" Said the Air-drummer. \"Absolutely lovely actually, thanks for asking.\" \n\n\"Oh yeah?\" The Boss said to him, smiling to hide his rage. \"Why's that?\" \n\n\"Oh, geez, you're too sweet. Asking me about this all. Well, I woke up today and I felt pretty good, so I decided to walk to work! On my way, I met this real sweet old lady who needed a hand across the road, so I helped her out.\" The Air-drummer was smiling as he spoke, as well as nodding. A metronome to his own words. \"Then I saw this homeless guy, bless his poor soul, so I gave him a couple bucks - Wish I could've given more, but, you know I need to eat too.\" \n\n\"Yeah, yeah, I understand. We all need to survive.\" The Boss said, his eyes now being unable to his rage inside. \"I need to survive. Just like you do.\"\n\n\"Yeah, course Boss. We all do. It's why we're working together.\" A few of the other men had become extremely uncomfortable at this point, aware of what was happening. \n\n\"So I'm going to ask you a simple question then, just one. If we all need to survive, why are you fucking me?\" The Boss was calm in his tone. The only thing scarier than him screaming, was him being calm.\n\n\"I'm not fucking you boss!\" The Air-drummer replied. \"Why would you think such a thing?\" \n\n\"Well,\" The Boss slowly took a few steps forward towards him as he was continuing to speak, \"Some of my product is going missing. Everyone else in the room seems to be... Not as happy as you. What's the first rule mate.\"\n\n\"Don't do your own product,\" The Air-drummer replied.\n\n\"Don't do your own product.\" The Boss mimicked. \"My product.\"\n\n\"Look, boss, honestly I'm not stealing. I'm paying for it. I'll admit, my bad, I'm doing it. But I'm not stealing it. You know I'm not lying, I can't be right now.\" He glanced over to everyone else in his room, all of them nervously working instead of watching what was happening. \n\n\"No one said you can't lie on this shit mate.\" The Boss was now standing in front of him. His imposing stature, the single line of drool dripping out the corner of his mouth and the crooked smile on face were all reasons to sweat. \n\n\"It was me.\" Said another random voice in the room. The Boss turned around to see one of his diligent workers now standing, and staring, and waiting, and absolutely filled with fear. \n\n\"Really?\" He replied to the Good Samaritan, who was withholding all traces of his terror within his soul, trying his best to let no one know how truly horrified he was.\n\n\"Yes Sir.\" \n\n\"Thank you for your honesty.\" The Boss said with a nod, before pulling out the gun he had concealed on his waist and shooting him in the head. His body hit the ground like a sack of bricks. All the other workers stopped. Their hands were shaking. \n\n\"Back to work boys.\" The boss said as he left the building, returned to his car, and drove off. The Air-drummer was gripping his head, tears coming out his eyes, as he stared at the corpse of his friend, who had a few trickles of Good Samaritan falling from his pocket and onto the ground.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nIf you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay ",
"Clive sauntered down a dirty street. Rain fell down, dowsing himself and everything around him in a wet shine. He turned down a seedy alleyway. Sirens, honking cars, screeching of tires, talking, and general busy noise filled the air as Clive walked down the trash filled alley. He came to a steel door, graffiti covered the worn steel. Looking both ways, Clive brought up a fist, and rapped it against the door. There was a thudding noise, and then a slit in the door opened. A face drawn in shadow peered down at Clive.\n\n“You got that new ish?” Clive asked to the face behind the slit of the door.\n\n“Hell yah. You got the cheedah?” The man asked.\n\nClive nodded, sticking out his lower lip. He rustled around in his clothes, pulling out a wad of crumpled bills. He passed the bills through the slit in the door. A few moments later, a small plastic baggy was handed over. Clive snatched the bag away, a terrible greed lighting up in his eyes.\n\nWithout saying goodbye, Clive rushed off out of the alleyway and into the street. He walked down the street, feverish to get home. He hoped on the subway at the C station, his right leg jittering in anticipation the entire time. With a groan of impatience, Clive got off on the next stop. He couldn’t wait until he got home.\n\nClive rushed to the station’s bathroom. Eyes wide and mad, he slammed into a dirty bathroom stall. He sat down on the toilet. Desperate hands rummaged through his pockets, grabbing hold of his baggie. With a jittery head, and shaking hands, Clive brought the baggie up to his nose. In desperation, he took a great sniff, and let the hit rile its way deep into his mind.\n\nWith a sigh, Clive leaned back in the stall. He closed the baggie, and put it in his pocket absentmindedly. His head started to swim, and a great big smile came over his face. After a few minutes, the sensation disappeared, and Clive got up from the toilet. Clive left the station’s bathroom, a big grin planted on his face. He smiled at others, and was absolutely polite and the perfect gentleman.\n\nLeaving the station, Clive came up to street level. With a clear head, and his goals in mind, Clive headed towards the local welfare clinic. He was jobless, and late on rent. Wit his mind cleared, he realized he needed to find a job and pay his landlord. Clive felt positive, energetic, he was ready to face the demons of his life.\n\nA police officer grabbed Clive by the shoulder. Clive turned around to face the officer.\n\n“You okay son?” The officer asked.\n\nClive smiled, and stared into the officer’s eyes. “I’m doing just great friendo. What about yourself.”\n\nThe officer let out a sigh, defeat scrawled across his face. “I’m doing fine, son. Listen, I won’t bust you on it this time. Just make sure you get home safe.”\n\n“Will do, friendo.” Clive said, before turning to stroll back down the street.\n\nThe officer turned to his partner. “Another goddamn junkie just floating around the street. What’s gotten into kids these days.”\n\n“It’s that new drug made by r/wholesomememes man. It’s spread like wildfire across the country. There are some people saying it’s doing a whole lot of good for the country though.” The officer’s partner replied.\n\n“It’s a damn shame, that’s what it is.” The officer replied. “Kids trying to better themselves and all of that shit. Why don’t they just go back to doing heroin and felling bad about themselves like the rest of us.”\n\nThe officer’s partner gave a shrug, and the two turned to continued their shift on the beat."
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[WP] Humanity reaches the stars only to discover everything is already claimed by older races, even if they aren't using it. Earth was claimed a billion years ago, we're currently negotiating with the landlord. | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"When they set out into space humanity had high hopes for exploration and colonization of the stars. That was until they discovered it was like Africa in the late 1800's where all of these other races have claimed large tracks of space. What was worse for them was that the claimants of the Sol system which to have a word with this upstart border infringing group.\n\nThey came in their ship; Marshals of the Great Gronoran Empire in an attempt to apply citizenship and rules to this species as they had the three others that had risen randomly in the last million years. See the galaxy has been at peace all that time by leaving the same list of civilizations in control of their determined areas. The Gronorans saw themselves as some great beneficiary by allowing the species that arose to use their solar system of birth as long as they payed all of the proper taxes.\n\nThe Marshals who sat down adjusting their green tentalic bodies to fit at the negotiating table and pushed forward their usual treaty translated into the crude English of this primitive species. They could not understand why the humans pushed forward a different treaty, and why it insisted that they not only maintain themselves as a separate civilization but be permitted to colonize non-utilized planets and systems. The Marshals insisted this would not due for maintaining galactic peace and that only their treaty could be accepted.\n\nThe humans disappeared into some side room to discuss the treaty more thoroughly and after an hour came out not only accepting it but stating they wished to gift the central government with a present, only to be opened in their presence. The Marshals accepted the signature on the paper assuming the marks to mean their names and accepted a crate the size of a couch.\n\nTheir arrival home was of no importance for to many it was just business dealing with the lesser species. They delivered the gift and paper to the council of kings, and then proceeded to open the crate as instructed by the humans. Upon completing this task they were awarded with a brilliant flash.\n\nThe days that followed chaotic for the Gronoran Empire as it struggled to determine what happened. The explosion had destroyed a good portion of the capital city and many governmental leaders. Once it was traced that the Humans had caused it and that they had signed their paper with the phrase \"Take them from us\" humans were condemned to extinction.\n\nAll the great species and civilizations of old dusted off their ancient million year old ships and prepared to destroy this destructive race. Unfortunately the races at large having been at peace so long forgot the ways of war; and humanity while young had shaped itself through it. All of the advanced technology did nothing as humanity turned their own weapons and ships against them. The races relearned of course, but by then it was too late and humanity had claimed the Milky way and would no longer follow any treaties but their own.\n\nIronic that in their attempts to maintain peace; they unleashed a monster of war."
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[removed] | [WP] The supernatural doesn't exist. Everything about you is average. Heck, your more boring than 99% of the ppl reading this. (The 1 prompt u guys can't write about). Now GO! | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nPrompts are not for complaints about subreddit content. Be the change you wish to see in the subreddit, post the type of prompts you wish to see more of. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5q13sc/wp_the_supernatural_doesnt_exist_everything_about/%0A%0A)",
"Joe preferred the foggy days to the sunny ones. They didn't happen very often, mostly when the weather started to turn from the average summer heat to the average autumn cool, but when they did occur, Joe liked them. \n\nTo be fair, it wasn't totally his fault that he was so quiet and reserved. Growing up, he did as he was told by his parents, and nobody could quite blame him for that. He got decent grades, dated a few decent girls for some periods of time until they inevitably didn't work out, and once he graduated college at the local state university, he got a decent job in an average financial accounting firm. By all rights, he did everything right. There was hardly a single person, hell, there *wasn't* a single person who could look at his record and say there was anything he did wrong. Every step led to the next, and every morning (except for the weekends, holidays, and the general two weeks vacation), he found himself one step closer to his job with each passing moment.\n\nThis particular day wasn't foggy at all, in fact, it was quite sunny and bright. A perfect day according to most, with a quintessential blue sky with white puffy clouds. The park, despite it being early morning, was filled with early morning joggers and their medium sized dogs. Occasionally, a duck made a noise from the pond, and the birds would fly from the trees in response. And there Joe was, just cutting through the park like he did every other morning to get to his job. \n\nHe longed for it to be foggier. Then, it would be darker, quieter. Less running, less ducks, and less birds. Just him, his footsteps, and the promise of a normal day at work to greet him. Today wasn't that day though.\n\nIn fact, because it was such a beautiful summer day, there were several children outside, all running around and playing catch. The torn up baseball flew through the air, far past where one child intended it to fly in the first place. Joe followed its path through the air until it hit the ground and slowly rolled towards his feet. \n\nJoe paused for a second. The children, all wildly chasing after the ball, paused about a yard in front of him, all unsure what to do. Joe bent over, picked up the ball, and looked at it. Stitches all frayed, the leather about ready to peel off at some points. Mud stains could be seen, and, if he could tell correctly, maybe even some blood drawn from light horseplay. \n\nAfter a moments pause, he tossed it back to the children, and continued on his way. Behind him, he could hear the children continue to play, all screaming out to each other. Buzzing around like bees, feeling the wind on their skin, the dirt beneath their bare feet. \n\nJoe sighed. He wished it had been foggier."
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1,
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1
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"1485317297",
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[WP] You abduct a child to hold her for ransom, but as you begin to talk to her you realize her home life is actually way more troubling than being kidnapped. | 140 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"I was tired of this silent kidnapping-mobile. Made me unpleasantly aware of guilt and regret gnawing at the back of my brain. I figured starting by talking couldn’t hurt. \n\n“Now listen, I’m not some horrible sort who routinely kidnaps children. I’m just someone rich folks hire when they want things done quietly. I suppose you could call me a ‘private security contractor’ at least, that’s what I put on the business cards.” I began, eyeing the little girl in my back seat. \n\n“In reality, I’m part hacker, part bodyguard, part muscle, and part corporate spy. It’s an interesting life, that’s for certain. Raziel Janus is the name I use for this job. The angel of mysteries, according to some writings, and the Roman god of doors,new beginnings etc, etc.” I continued, letting my history background speak for itself. \n\n“I steal valuable data for clients from Chinese oligarchs, to Saudi oil barons, to Elon Musk himself. A naughty, naughty boy, Mr. Musk, but that’s a story for another day, eh? I also provide bodyguard services, very discreetly, mind you, to everything from foreign dignitaries to corporate magnates, to that new pop star. The little starlets always made for interesting jobs. Once again, another story.”\n\n“As well, I occasionally hire out, when desperate for work, as somebody’s enforcer. Sure, I’m a slim dude, not the sort to fight hand to hand at first glance. I still remember pulling a Keanu Reeves and dodging some cartel schmuck and then throwing him out a fiftieth floor window. Don Alzario is not a kind, nor a patient man. And when he wants someone kicking the bucket before they threaten his turf, he gets them dead. \nHe hired me because he thought I had to be Italian with my name. Wrong, but if nothing else, I was his kind of Catholic. Man, that church the next day...ahaha...good times.” I laughed lightly, worried by the kid’s utter silence. \n\n“The rest of the time, I steal accounting documents, corporate research, etc from any number of places for some very rich men from China. The call themselves the Han Collective, and I don’t mind. They pay well, and party with me after every job like it’s 209. Gotta love those crazy old coots and their ‘Han Dynasty in exile’ gig. Ah...fun times.” I finished, stunned. \n\nI’d undone the gag and all the bindings. The only thing keeping my new passenger and current paycheck in her seat was a safety belt. But she just kept staring forward, or out the window, silent. Even though I’m a merc, a gray dot in this world of society and social media, and kinda heartless, I hated dealing with kids, especially as victims. Leaves a bad taste, you feel. I hadn’t been a smoker till after I had to shoot some Senator’s little boy because he saw me. Now, I’m constantly smoking on a cig, or at least chewing gently on one. I also drink because of a few jobs gone wrong, and all the shit that got me into this line of work. I remember when I was an optimistic little college kid...now, this is my life. \n\n“Hey, kid. What’s your name anyway? I know your pop is Stanis Petrov, the Russian mineral and oil oligarch, and your ma is some kinda KGB spy sent to keep him under Putin’s thumb. But my employer never mentioned what I’m supposed to call you.” Silence.\n\n“Kid, if I don’t get a name soon, I’ll…” I threatened lightly, hoping she’d respond by blurting out everything I wanted to know. \n\nAfter all, this job was high pay, low details, and Don Alzario hadn’t told me jackshit about why I was kidnapping Petrov’s kid. It struck me as odd, maybe the kid knew?\n\n“Please don’t hit me, mister. Daddy hit me with his belt today, and it all hurts.” the little girl in the frilly dress begged, but with the resignation that implied she was used to requests for mercy being ignored. I bit a hole through my lit cig, and my lip. \n\nI didn’t know how I missed the signs. Besides a tech major, I’d done some psych and sociology classes. I’d been fascinated, kinda morbidly, by the unit we did on abuse. The signs were all over, a long-sleeved, frilly, high collared jumper/dress shirt thing, the long stockings, the heavy shoes, the hair long and loose over the neck. They were to hide any marks her pop left on her. Also, the quiet resignation I was met with during the kidnapping, and the lack of a fight, and the silence. She was used to being beaten, abused, and ignored. She probably thought this car a haven because all I did was tell her my story, and threaten. I knew the Don would kill me if I popped the kid one, and moreover, who hits a ten year old girl? \n\n“Kid. Lemme tell ya, I may be taking you to the Don to ransom back to your pop, but I ain’t gonna hit ya. If your pop is, I bet it’d do nothing anyway. Pretty sure your pop will pay up. Also certain the Don will have me do the trade. I’ll do something when that happens. But first, we’re swinging by my place. Got it?” I may be a merc, but I’ll happily put three through a child abuser and his psycho wife. The Don could have my finger, but this girl wasn’t going back to those people. \n\n“Now, act like I’m your friendly uncle or something when we get there. If you can help me with that, this can be nice, easy, and maybe even a bit fun. It’s what us adults do when we wanna play pretend. How bout it?” I extended a hand backwards for a shake as the car automatically parked in my spot by the door of my apartment building. She stared, and then shook it. \n\n“Uh..I’m Alexandra Petrov, Mister Janus. N-nice to meet you.” She stammered.\n\n“Good to meet ya, Alexa. Mind if I call ya that?” \n\n“N-no…” \n\n“Great! Well, let’s get going then.” \n\nInside, old lady Jenkins, my building manager and landlady just looks at me oddly. She knows what I do, but I also pay her far more than the cops ever could. Besides, I don’t do too much that’s really illegal, just many things that society highly frowns upon. \n\n“Who’s this one, Raz?” She slurs, drunk as always. Her voice a dry rasp. \n\n“My niece, Alexa. Say hi to Mrs. Jenkins, Alexa.”\n\n“H-hi.”\n\n“Well, ain’t she precious? I’ll let you two go, it’s way past her bedtime, eh?” the old crow guffawed. \n\n“Thanks, Ma Jenkins.” \n\n“Later, Raz. Rents due next Tuesday! Don’t forget.”\n\n“Ma, when have I ever not paid you on-time, in cash?” I drawled from the elevator doors. \n\n“Fair enough, Raz.”\n\n",
"There are four of them. They are alert and careful body guards. They accompany the principle to and from the school, a route with four turns that is approximately six miles from the house. They were charcoal suits and subdued ties, and their credentials reveal that they are private contractors. A 0445 every morning they sweep the vehicle, allow the driver to enter, escort the principle to the vehicle, and accompany him to the international school. They are armed with service pistols and one of them carries a pelican case that may contain a rifle or other small arms.\n\nWe jackknifed a semi in the middle of the highway to block traffic. Our appropriated road crew van hummed along the indented shoulder of the road and we pulled up short about five meters from the principles vehicle. \n\nWhen we got there, security had already punched out a perimeter in order to negotiate a turnaround for their vehicle and provide security to walk their SUV out of the traffic jam. \n\nI threw the doors open for the team, and we poured out into the stopped vehicles. The security team had no idea we were coming. \n\nWe lit them up.\n\nBullets popped and snapped against the hoods and roofs of other cars as they haphazardly fired their service pistols at us in the traffic. The looked much more professional than they were. We slew them where they stood and gained ground, surrounding the vehicle. The boy was inside, I pulled him out by his skinny arm and walked him back to the van. The team followed close, and one pulled off to throw a tourniquet and some combat gauze on a bystander who had been hit in the arm.\n\nOnce everyone was back inside, we made our way to the primary holding site. We burned the van and and traded off to a pair of sedans. The boy sat between me and my assistant team leader. I thought he'd be screaming and crying, or maybe even just shaking quietly in fear, but he didn't do anything. He just sat there, eyes straight ahead, hands folded in his lap, with a blank expression on his face. He was compliant, even submissive, and held his knees tight together leaving a couple of inches between ours and his.\n\nI didn't like that at all. Kids should be emotional. They should scream and cry when they're scared. They should fight back, or try to, like little animals when they're cornered. I wouldn't hurt him if he did, his safety was paramount. He had been safe in the bullet proof shell of the car before, and our weapons weren't high enough caliber to overpenetrate a human target and hit him. We are savages, the world we worked and lived in made us into savages, but we aren't monsters.\n\nI kept hoping he'd say something, or maybe even ask us why. I was almost on the edge of my seat waiting for it in the cramped back seat of the sedan. \n\nBut still, he never said a word. \n\nThe ransom would be high for him, his father and mother were important people with a lot of important friends that trafficked in and out of their compound. Our strategic goal was to use him as leverage to liberate a couple of soldiers that had gotten captured in his home country, and hopefully extort enough cash out of those important friends his parents had to get us out of the country.\n\nI cracked the window, I was still breathing heavy after the shootout and needed some fresh air. \n\nThe wind twisted the curls of his brown hair around the boy's forehead. He turned his head and looked to me with an expression of pure resignation, then turned his eyes back to the road ahead of us. \n\nA few minutes later we pulled off on a powdery side road that took us to the run down house that served as the holding site. I took him inside, and the team went to work setting up security around the house. I'd made a room for him the best I could, with a small stereo, a bed, and a desk with some notebook paper so he could draw or write whatever he wanted. \n\nI took him into the room and he sat down on the bed. I wanted to say something to him, and if he'd done anything more than look at the floor with his broken little downturned face, I would have been able to find the words for the situation. \n\n\"I'm going to get you some food and water.\" I told him in his native tongue. \n\nI shut and locked the door from the outside, and retrieved some chow and water for him from the kitchen. The stereo came on, playing music softly in the boy's room. Holding everything in one hand, I swung the door open wide and stepped inside.\n\nHe was sitting naked on the bed with his face in his hands. \n\n\"Holy shit, what are you...\" I dropped the food and held my hands up to block my vision ahead of me. In that brief glimpse I could see deep bruises on his arms and legs.\n\nI pulled an extra blanket from the foot of the bed and threw it over his shoulders with my eyes closed. It covered him enough that I could look at him more comfortably. \n\n\"Do you want me to dance?\" He asked me, staring at the floor. \n\n\"No, son. I don't want you to dance.\"\n\nI stood up and felt like I had fire in my veins. I left the boy's door open and walked, then almost jogged through the house, grabbed my rifle, and crashed through the flimsy front door into the yard. \n\nI yelled out to my team, \"Get your gear and get in the fucking cars, we're hitting the compound right now.\" \n\n\"What the fuck, are you serious? We'll never get those boys back if we do that!\" My assistant team leader yelled back.\n\n\"I'll explain when we're done.\"\n\n\"This is fucked, Tom.\" He said to me as the team behind him swiftly threw on their body armor and threw extra ammo in the trunks of the cars.\n\n\"They're fucking soldiers, man. They'll understand.\" I said.\n\nNOTE: The peculiar beginning is a SALUTE report modified to fit narrative prose, in order to reflect the military background of the criminals.\n\nDOUBLE NOTE: The boy has been treated as a \"bacha bazi\" or dancing boy. I know the WP says \"her\" but in this case these boys are treated as a kind of inter-sex prostitute. The main character knows this, and that's why he is infuriated immediately. This is a subtlety that I thought should be addressed for those not familiar with the subject, however if you know about this aspect of Afghani culture it's more obvious.",
"God I'm starving. Thank fuck she seems pretty calm, a little confused. I think there's a McDonald's up ahead. We might be fine going through the drive through.\n\nIn the dim lights from the street lamps the girls face looked sleepy. Her chubby cheeks were red from the winter air, but she was probably warm now in the car.\n\n\"Can we go inside? I want to play on the- on the play pen.\" Her voice wasn't harsh and desperate like kids who only rarely are allowed to do something they love. Good. Her parent's probably love her. Probably cater to her every insignificant whim. \n\nShe is pretty calm.\n\n\"Yeah. And - if you're a good girl and do as you're told, you can have whatever you want to eat too.\" \n\nShe didn't react much to that. I should soften my voice a bit. \n\n\"Deal, Jenna?\" \n\n\"Ohhkay,\" the girl responded, with a little smile.\n\nThe snow crunches a bit as we park. We run inside together, I grab Jenna's hand. I order a McDouble, and she orders two chocolate chip cookies. Takes probably a minute before our food is up.\n\n\"Can I get milk too?\" Jenna asks, halfway through the first cookie with melted chocolate all over her fingers.\n\n\"Sure, hold on.\" I purchase the milk and come back, keeping one eye on her the whole time. I sit back down and open the plastic lid.\n\n\"Are you my new daddy?\"\n\n\"N- no. I'm not your new dad. You're daddy misses you very much, he'll be happy once you're home.\"\n\n\"No he won't. He's not my dad.\" She shoved some more cookie in her mouth. \"I don't want him.\"\n\nKids. They always hate their parents from time to time, especially when the parents don't give them anything real to worry about. At her age I'd have been happy to have anyone to call a father.\n\n\"Well, your mommy will definitely miss you.\"\n\nJenna looked down at her cookies unhappily. Her eyes reddened and welled up, and her chin dimpled as she frowned. \n\nShit. \"It's okay! You'll see her soon, I promise. I'm just taking care of you for a couple days while your mommy and daddy put together a special surprise for you!... You're going to love it!\"\n\nI don't think she heard me really. She keeps getting redder. Cheeks, eyes, lips - all bright red. \n\n\"Nobody loves me. I'm just a stupid idiot.\"\n\nSix year old, adorable privileged girls don't normally talk that way. \n\n\"Are there mean girls at school telling you that? You know what you could say to them?\"\n\n\"No.\" \n\n\"You can tell them to shove it up their twats.\" The mental image of this adorable girl chewing out the mean girls seemed precious.\n\n\"Nooo. It's not girls, it's mommy.\" Tears began streaming down her cheeks after she couldn't hold them back any longer. \n\nThose fuckers. Who calls little kids names like that? Well, aside from teaching them to call each other that. But that's self defense. Mean girls deserve that. And I guess it's not that uncommon, my parent's did it.\n\n\"My parent's used to call me that too.\"\n\nJenna looked up. \n\n\"Have some more cookie! It's gonna get cold!\"\n\n\"It already is cold.\" Jenna sounded like the most miserable creature in the world.\n\n\"Okay, hold on, I'll get it heated up again.\" I grab the cold cookie and take it back to the counter. The clerk rolls her eyes at me as she turns away to put it back into the oven. I watch as Jenna sips some milk. The cookie comes out pretty hot. I walk slowly back to the booth so it'll cool a bit.\n\n\"Here you go! One nice, warm cookie!\" Jenna looks much calmer, but the redness remains in her face. She accepts the cookie and begins to alternate bites of cookie with sips of milk. I wait for her to finish quietly, unsure of what else to say or do. \n\nWe clean up (Jenna picks up her own trash) and go back to the truck. I recline her seat as much as I can and turn up the heat so she can go to sleep. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us. \n\n\n\n",
"Ya know, it's not that hard to kidnapp a child. You gotta search for a shithole of town where nobody cares, get yourself a car, not a van. To obvious and too stereotypical. Just a big car. Go to the next store and get all you need for some chloroform. It's not that hard. Everything ready i followed the little girl. She couldn't be older then 7. Open the door, ask for a direction and pull her in. Nobody saw shit. And even if , Nobody would care. Drive her to your safe place. She was silent for the first few days. Untill i decided to break that silence with some Pizza. I sat her down, and opened her handcuffs. But she couldn't escape after all, the chain arround her leg was connected to a pipe. She ate. \"Do you know what i want?\" A tiny nod from her. Seems like she wouldn't speak after all. Some minutes Later she finished. \n\"You make good pizza. Should I lick your pepe?\"\n\"Errrr what?\"\nI turned arround . Her innocent eyes stared right into my soul. \n\"Why would I want you to.... what?\"\n\"Thats what mommy and daddy told me. If somebody is nice, lick their pepe or Dodo to say thank you\"\nMy stomach turned arround. \n\"No kid.... You don't need to. \" My thoughts gone crazy. What are thoose sick bastards. Who could do something to their own Child? I mean I kidnapped countless kids. But I returned all, even if their parents couldn't pay. One time , a few years back I even bought a teddy for that poor boy. She started to tear up:\" But if I don't lick... you will punch me. And lock me in that cage....\" I heard enough. I could get some money out of this and help this little girl. \nOne call and a few days later the kid, Janna sat next to me on the couch, playing Mario 64. I told her what her parents did. I unlocked the chain and told her she could go. She never did . The doorbell rang. Some friends of mine, a couple . Both infertile. They lived two blocks away. One last hug from janna and she walked away with her new parents. They told me I could still see her. I could become her good uncle. We'll see about that. 3 hours later I was at her old place. Picked the lock, got into the house and scared the crap out of thoose monsters. They had the choice. Sign the adoption papers for my friends , or get a bullet to their heads. They signed. Before leaving, I stuffed my bag full of her old toys. Another three hour drive. They where eating breakfast. I gave her the bag\" Uncle Dean? Can you do something for me?\" \n\"Sure Janna\"\n\"Burn everything.\" \n\nSorry for the formatting and any grammar misstakes, I am on my phone and no native speaker. \n\n",
"I place the bag over her head. She doesn't struggle. They always struggle. \n\n\"Stay quiet,\" I tell her. Although, I don't need to. She hasn't uttered a single word. No screams, no fighting, absolutely nothing. It's almost boring. \n\nI toss her over my shoulder and make my way through the house. I watch where I place my feet. A pink bone nearly detonates but I move my foot at the last second. I see the family dog lying on her bed. Or, rather, what's left of it. It's hard to make out this late, but all I can see is shredded blanket. \n\nThe dog cowers in the back. I walk towards her, careful not to tip the girl on my shoulders. She begins to sink lower into the ground. As I reach my hand out towards her, I hear a small whine. It's as if she's crying for me to help. A few tense moments later and I've got her, too. Both of these defenseless beings are far too willing to come along with me. \n\nI continue towards the front door. This is supposed to be fun. A challenge, even. I'm essentially carrying an 80lb doll on my back and a 50lb doll on a leash. \n\nA set of photographs out of their frames litter the ground. I pick them from the cigarette ashes. It's photos of the girl I carry on my shoulder now. Despicable, reprehensible, revolting photographs. Broken bones, shattered hearts. No. \n\nI set the girl down. She tightens her grip on me. She doesn't want me to leave her in this hell hole. \n\n\"Hang on, sweetie,\" I tell her. I leave the dog with her and head upstairs. I've got about ten steps to decide whether I'll use the knife or the gun. ",
"She sat in the car quietly, not bothering to protest as he drove past the park he had told her he would drop her off at. She stared out as the park went by and said nothing. \n\nHer silence was unnerving. \n\n\"What's your name?\" The question escaped him without much thought. He cursed himself moments later. He didn't want to get attached. It wasn't good to get attached. \n\nShe looked at her hands. \"...Alice.\" \n\n\"Alice.\" he repeated. \"Behave yourself alright, Alice? I'm going to take you somewhere for a while.\" \n\n\"Ok.\" \n\nHe drove quickly through the streets, somehow feeling like he was being followed even though he knew he wasn't. His palms felt wet and he kept having to wipe them on his jeans. When he finally reached his safehouse, he parked the garage in the car and dragged her out of her seat by the wrist. \n\nShe didn't protest, not even when he started tying her hands together with masking tape. He watched her suspiciously, wondering what was going on. \n\n\"You're not scared?\" \n\nShe shook her head. He frowned and pulled her along by the shoulder a little roughly. She didn't make a sound. \n\n\"Why aren't you scared?\" \n\nShe looked at him dully. \"...I don't care.\" \n\n\"What?\" he thought he misheard her, \"Aren't you scared you'll never see your parents again? That happens sometimes...\" he added menacingly, trying to provoke a reaction. \n\nShe stared at him. She looked away. \n\n\"I don't want to see them again.\" \n\nHe frowned, already unnerved. He pulled her along into the carefully blocked up bedroom he'd prepared in the basement and locked her inside. He noticed the bruises peeking out from the corners of her sleeves. \n\nHe drew his burner phone from his pocket, typing in the number of her father- a wealthy businessman. His finger hovered over the call button. \n\nHe paused for a very long time. "
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[WP] The true reason that the original American Constitution document is protected so heavily is because it is a fixed point in time: If anyone was to edit it in the present those changes would ripple back in time to when it was originally written. | 457 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Outside there were riots. The sea of people were hungry, oppressed and abused. The sun fell and the shadows of the White House grew long. The gun shots started to come more frequently.\n\n\nHe envied the Romans. From his refuge he watched the darkening White House. He imagined the sun was setting on his empire. He imagined this was how consulship and the Republic ended in Rome, and how the Empire began.\n\n\nHe saw himself as Caesar. The country was within his grasp. There was only one thing he had to do.\n\n\nThe military had fractured. Only the loyalists remained and they surrounded him the derelict building. The chants outside passed in and out of hearing and the walls rattled.\n\n\n\"Great President, it is unsafe here. We have to leave.\"\n\n\n\"No, no, *noo*,\" he said. \"We have big things to do, big things. Once I get hold of it, and believe me I will, the Empire will be great again. Really great. Spectacularly great.\"\n\n\nBut the crowds were armed and hell had broken loose. He had to get to the Capitol where the Constitution was held, and he could cement his fate.\n\n\"Where is the helicopter?\" he asked.\n\n\n\"It was shot down. Great President we really cannot stay here.\"\n\n\nThe gunshots came in a burst. The seconds lasted forever. Screams came and screams went. The safehouse was no longer safe. The guards led him to the back. It was a residential house, and they went to the back yard. The lawn was green and the fence shook. \n\n\n\"Great President, maybe you should consider what we...\"\n\n\n\"No, no, *noo*.\"\n\n\nThey had wanted him to cut off his hair, to better blend in.\n\n\n\"Take me to the Capitol.\"\n\n\nThe men jumped the fence, carrying him on their backs. The streets here were clear but the protestors were close by and it was unsafe. They found a car parked and broke into it.\n\n\n\"Is this the best you can find for me? Do you know who I am? I drive only the best...\"\n\n\nBut they took off. The backroads were navigable and the falling shadows of night cloaked them. They drove as far as they could. On the radio, they heard that the last lines of police had been routed. The protesters stormed the White House, demanding his head. Some of the army had come with the protesters, and there were tanks and artillery.\n\n\n\"Why are we listening to this fake news? It just upsets me, it really does.\"\n\n\nThey came to the main roads and had to get out. Too many people crowded the way.\n\n\n\"Great President we can go no further.\"\n\n\n\"No, no, *noo*. We are going to the Capitol.\"\n\n\nHe looked the officer in his eye.\n\n\n\"*I* am in charge here. You do as I say.\"\n\n\nThe officer had a look on his face. He was loyal and his service was all that he knew.\n\n\n\"Get on my back,\" he said.\n\n\nThey ran through the crowds and were safe at first. Then his hair gave him away.\n\n\nThe crowd collapsed inwards and the small team of loyalists began firing. The dead fell in flashes of white as the night fully came. They ran ahead with the President on their backs and made it far. The protesters had mostly converged at the White House and the Capitol was clear and in sight.\n\n\nThey made it to the doors and he used his golden key that he had made.\n\n\n\"I am truly the Romans,\" he said as he opened the doors.\n\n\nIt was deserted, the Capitol, as all historical legislation had been discarded since his assumption of office. He looked in the dark until he found it. The constitution was there, old and wordy, and not to his tastes. But it had power. It had the power to make him Caesar.\n\n\nOutside, the crowds were coming with fervor. They wanted his head. His guards could not keep them at bay and many of them had died during the mad run. \n\n\n\"It's too late for them though,\" he said, again out loud.\n\n\nHe held the constitution in his hands and got out a pen. The doors of the Capitol were breached and the protesters were pouring in. \n\n\n\"Sad!\" he said and pulled out his pen.\n\n\nBut he was his own undoing. The pen was a full sized thing, heavy and fine, but too much for his small hands. It fell to the floor and it was all too late. The Great President fell soon after.",
"The vault rose up through the National Archives, right as the clock nearby chimed 10 AM. The Archives had just opened, and I knew that the throngs of tourists would soon be pouring in to gawk at the documents that had founded our nation. Most assumed the yellowing parchment was a relic of two-and-a-half centuries ago, no longer relevant to the times. I knew better.\n\nThe vault protecting it, supposedly bomb-proof, water-proof, dust-proof, shock-proof, alien-invasion-proof, whatever the latest craze was in protection technology, was a farce. The real protection was imbued in the very place itself. The temporal fault line we had discovered underground in Washington, D.C. was the real reason the National Archives had been constructed in the first place. I was one of a handful of people that knew it even existed, let alone where it was, or why it was here. \n\nEvery night, after the vault lowered into place, the rift in time took the Constitution away from this time, to a time unknown to us still. We always put the Vault into the same place every night, and the paper disappeared like clockwork. We had no idea why we had to do it, but the consequences were disastrous if we did not. \n\nA few years ago, the vault had started off just two seconds late on its downward journey, but that had caused a two week shutdown of our government. The Congressmen on the hill claimed there was some budget issue, but we knew it had been caused by the original document that created Congress. \n\nOne of the weirder parts of the job when I first started was that we were instructed to never carry any pens or pencils while on shift. No writing implements were allowed within 50 feet of the Constitution, even when it was downstairs. We had our suspicions, mine was that any change to the Constitution would stick when it went to whatever time it went to at night. \n\nA few days ago, I had smuggled a pen into my job, and added a phrase before the Constitution vanished into the abyss. It was in the Presidential Eligibility clause, Article 11, Section 1, Clause 5. \n\n\"No Person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President; neither shall any Person be eligible to that Office who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty five Years, and been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States.\" \n\nI had penned in only seven short words, and when the Constitution disappeared, there was a shock wave that rippled outward from the vault. \n\nThe next thing I knew, I woke up on Inauguration Day, and someone I had never seen before as a candidate was getting inaugurated. I don't know what I did, only that I have to go back tonight and change it before its too late. You probably won't even remember this timeline once I change it back, and I hope for all your sakes that erasing those words will work. We will have to see tomorrow morning."
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] | |
[WP] For several weeks you've had a reoccurring dream of a day at the beach and there's always one girl that catches your eye each time, then one day while you're out and about you see the exact girl from the dream... | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"LISA\n\nOh my god.\n\nBENNIE\n\nHmm?\n\nLISA\n\nRemember that dream I keep having?\n\nBENNIE\n\nThe Rob Reiner sex dream?\n\nLISA\n\nNo, no. What did I say about never bringing that up?\n\nBENNIE\n\nI remember you offering to sleep with me to prove you're a lesbian but nothing after that. \n\nLISA\n\nThe dream at the pier.\n\nBENNIE\n\nOooh. I fell in love down at the pier, you were sunbathing, I was around.\n\nLISA\n\nNow is not the time.\n\nBENNIE\n\nI feel it's always time for Blondie.\n\nLISA\n\nWell that's why you don't get dates. I'm gonna go talk to her.\n\nBENNIE\n\nAccidents never happen.\n\nLISA\n\nQuit it Debbie.\n\nBENNIE\n\nWill anything happen?\n\nLISA goes over to DREAM GIRL\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nHi.\n\nLISA\n\nHi. Nice day isn't it?\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nI like it a little bit less humid, but other than that.\n\nLISA\n\nOh yeah, it's like being waterboarded.\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nI'm sorry, have we met?\n\nLISA\n\nI think I would've remembered.\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nYou look awfully familiar, and I say 'it's like being waterboarded' all the time.\n\nLISA\n\nWell maybe we're exactly the same.\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nWhat's your favorite tv show?\n\nLISA\n\nSeinfeld.\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nNo. Really?\n\nLISA\n\nIt's possible, I mean, it was wildly popular.\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nOkay, favorite movie on three. One, two, three.\n\nLISA and DREAM GIRL\n\nAll About Eve.\n\nLISA\n\nBullshit.\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nHi, I'm Lisa.\n\nLISA\n\nBullshit. Lisa what?\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nLisa Carrillo.\n\nLISA\n\nBullshit. Who are you really?\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nLisa Carrillo.\n\nLISA\n\nWhat are your parents names?\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nPat and Dana.\n\nLISA\n\nWhich is Pat and which is Dana?\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nMa is Dana.\n\nLISA \n\nBullshit. Have a nice time 'Lisa.' \n\nLISA goes back to BENNIE, running toward the exit\n\nLISA\n\nCome on Bennie!\n\nBENNIE\n\nHow'd it go?\n\nLISA\n\nVery well, thank you.\n",
"Ugh, that dream again. It was no different than the last three nights, no matter how much I try to change it. The same terrible dream.\nThe result is always the same: I'm running down the beach to catch a frisbee. I get past it to make the catch when I see this amazing girl. A more beautiful girl I have never seen. She is lying in her pink bikini under an umbrella, watching me. I lock eyes with her, she smiles. I get lost in that heavenly smile; it is love at first sight.\n\nThen it hits me. The frisbee. Right in the side of the head.\n\nI go down. The girl laughs at me. I wake up.\n\nStupid, stupid, stupid. Every time. No matter how many times I dream that dream, I never catch the damned frisbee. I embarrass myself in front of the literal girl of my dreams every night.\n\nToday some friends have decided to go to the beach to have fun. I grab my frisbee and go with them. Maybe if I practice in real life, I will be prepared for my dream. I need to catch that frisbee. Just once. That's all I need.\n\nWe're out there for two hours, having fun. Throwing the frisbee. Then my friend throws one a little too far down the beach. I go running after it. It starts to slow in the air a little. I manage to get ahead of it. Out of the corner of my eye I notice something. That girl. I can't believe my eyes. It's her. The girl of my dreams. I stop and stare. She stares back and smiles. No! Not this time! I can't get distracted by her. I need to... what did I need to do? I can't let this woman distract me from something. What was it?\n\n*Wham* \"Right,\" I think as I head toward the ground, \"the frisbee\". \n\nI look over. The girl laughs at me. Just like in the dream. I ruined my only chance to impress the girl of my dreams. \nThen I see her getting up. She's coming over to me, still smiling. I brush the sand off of my face.\n\"Nice catch,\" she says. \"Way to use your head.\"\n\nI laugh and smile back. Maybe it wasn't such a bad dream after all. I only woke up too soon."
] | [
1,
1,
2
] | [
"1485357199",
"1485360181",
"1485359151"
] | |
[WP] At the same time, every phone receives the same text: "2 years, 9 months, 14 days, 6 hours. The end is near... We're watching you." | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"November 8, 2019, at approximately 7:38. That's the supposed end of the world. Or at least, that's what the texts said.\n\n\"How did you do it?\" I confronted my friend Andrew. \"Everyone is saying that got that stupid message, and something tells me you're behind it.\"\n\nAndrew was just the right about dark humor and obscure know how to send a mass text to everyone in the world.\n\n\"It wasn't me.\" He told me with an expression of anxiety. \"This is huge. It's too big to just be some punk kid's prank. You've got to see this.\"\n\nHe showed me all sorts of documents that he already procured from less than reputable sources on the deepweb. I read pretty much everything he shoved at me, but couldn't parse quite what it meant.\n\n\"The message originated on a satellite, and there's some evidence that the magnetosphere is being bombarded extremely hard. The text isn't from any carrier on the planet. Don't you see?\"\n\n\"It's just some.. error.\" I shrugged, but he was unconvinced.\n\n\"It can only be one thing.\" He paused for dramatic reveal, but I just sighed, already knowing what he was going to say.\n\n\"Aliens.\" I finished for him.\n\nOr, so he claimed. But, shortly after he told me this the president released a press conference where he proclaimed that it was the act of his political opposition, who then claimed it was a Russian trick. I didn't know who to believe.\n\nPeople pretended to be furious, but for the most part, they kept going about their day to day business. I had better things to do than worry about some cryptic text, and so did the other 99% of humanity.\n\n\"School just isn't important right now.\" He explained as he unloaded his car, with all of the stuff he brought home from college. \"We've got to figure out what's going.\"\n\n\"I don't know, man.\" I tried to dismiss him gently. \"It was just a stupid prank. We've still got to go to work, and everything.\"\n\n\"Well, about that...\" He trailed off before explaining that he was also quitting his job.\n\nI would check up on him every now and then, to make sure he was still eating, and changing his clothes. But, more often than not, I'd leave his house questioning myself.\n\nIn only a few weeks, he had found all the private numbers that the text had broke through and on a stereotypical map on the wall, he ran a red thread to and from the contacts.\n\nAfter I got my nerves together, a month later, I returned to Andrew's house, with a warm, homemade meal. This time, all the lights were off. His home was completely lit by candle light, revealing that the map was now covered in newspaper sent in from places across the world.\n\n\"Here's the thing. Whoever it is said they're watching us and that the end is coming. They've got be stationed on the moon or even Mars.\" He tried so desperately to convince me. But, I was having none of it.\n\nBut, then the president released another statement, on January 1st, 2019. There was a multiple masses heading for our planet, from a only a few AU's away. NASA had concluded they were ships.\n\nAll talk of walls, and political dissent went out the window as the nation was thrown into a wartime fervor. Rockets, bombs, and aircraft were being created at intense rates.\n\n\"I was laid off.\" I explained to Andrew when I showed up at his home again. \"With 'the end' in two months, nobody needs medicine.\"\n\n\"I told you!\" He pointed at me, but his usual arrogance was replaced with a sad revelation, that being correct means the end of the world.\n\n\"I could get a job in the factory, but I don't know. If they came here from light years away, how do we even stand a chance?\"\n\nSo, for the last month, I tried my best to fulfill a bucket list of sorts, but it wasn't like in the movies. With the looming end, nothing was enjoyable anymore. I found myself just constantly online, reading increasingly depressing news, day in and day out.\n\nRussia didn't like that China was building so many nukes to fight the aliens, and the EU was fracturing due to Russia occupying Eastern European states. Temperatures were at all time high. Everything seemed to be going wrong.\n\nThen on November 7th, with only a day left, I thought about just sleeping until it was all over. But, the heat made it nearly impossible, so I just stared at the ceiling for hours.\n\n\"Here, let's watch it go down.\" He flicked on the news for what felt like the millionth time. \"Everyone's getting ready.\"\n\nAll across the world, rockets were being launched, armed forces, larger than any in history loaded onto ships, and readied for battled.\n\nAndrew and I held our breaths as we watched nukes being shot into the sky, live. Long, tubes of steel and plutonium left the atmosphere and only grainy video followed. But, even on the grey and black image, we could make out the massive explosions as it rocked the sides of the ships that approached the Earth from a few million miles away.\n\nThen, both of our phones buzzed in our laps, simultaneously. Andrew and I shared a look of shock and despair before we check the message.\n\n**We tried to help you...**\n\nThe message read.\n\nI stared at Andrew for a long time, trying to find some meaning in the words, but we sat in silence until an alert came from the television.\n\n\"Everyone outside should immediately find shelter. If possible, find underground shelter.\" A robotic voice announced. \"An series of solar flares have seemed to intensified in the last few hours. Stay as covered as possible.\"\n\nI looked to my watch and the time said 7:34. When I looked back up, Andrew was already standing and tugging me to follow, we ran outside to his basement stairs. The very air stung with heat and energy. We nearly fell down the stairs in haste, and crouched together in the corner as the sound crashing come from upstairs.\n\n\"How could we have known?\" Andrew's voice shook when he asked me.\n\n\"They warned us.\" I answered, then everything went bright."
] | [
1,
2
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"1485365582",
"1485369970"
] | |
[WP] You were an ordinary snail until another snail offered you a job as a decoy snail. | 31 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"It had been a day like any other.\n\nNo day, in fact, is truly like any other, but when your earthly form is that of a snail, generalizations begin to be acceptable, to some degree.\n\nHowever, these generalizations are also troublesome at times. When a life is as mundane as mine, finding peculiarities or distinguishing factors becomes a hobby, whether through an intentional effort to develop such a habit or through a subconscious, evolutionary reaction. The oddities of life become the excitement to ignite a day. Spices in a supper, sparkles on a scarf, and in my case, suspense on the streets: all are examples of how one might seek some purpose or some noteworthiness in his life.\n\nBut, let us return to a time before I had found my excitement at the bottom of Pandora's box. Let us return to a time when I was the chum of the average man, wasting away in a lonely old bar with broken windows and wicked beers.\n\n*****\n\nI took a long drag of my smoke-puff cigar. It was a bland brand, but cigarettes in and of themselves had become rare in recent times, so I took a long drag and then relaxed as I threw myself into recollection. As the sweet whisper of Jazz bustled on from the piano in the corner, I swivelled in my spot and faced the room. No one looked to me, but I spoke to them all.\n\n\"Life is like a rooster. It wakes you up at the start of the day with a bang of excitement, but by the time your sun's settin' it's been sleeping for a couple of hours. It's fancy, it's fashionable - it's what we all want. But by the time we're ready to have it, it's too late. The irony, though, is that roosters are meant to be early. And life? Life is always late.\" I finished another drag of my silhouette and turned back to the bar just as the music hit a small crescendo. Another snail entered the tavern, and inched his way over to the bar. I nodded him my greetings.\n\n\"Let me buy you a round, friend,\" he suggested as he reached the bar. The drinks appeared as he at last settled himself into his position.\n\n\"Life going well for you?\" I asked, noting the spring in his crawl.\n\n\"I'm living life as I can,\" the snail said, and I noted upon his back a small scar, reminiscent of stress or cracking. *How odd,* I thought, but made no comment on it.\n\n\"How so?\" I replied, and took a swig of the drink.\n\n\"I've got a job as a street patroller,\" he remarked. I was impressed. The street patrollers are no ordinary snails; they are the highest of the working class. They monitor the grassless lands and pass messages across them, risking their lives in the process. Such an eventful life is only afforded to the most fortunate and driven snails of each generation, and unfortunately, I had been neither. The urge to give another monologue overcame me, but I powered through with the resilience only a snail can know, for my new friend was about to speak again. \"Problem is, now I've got too much money, and no time to use it.\" He paused. \"Life's a real stumper, ain't it.\"\n\nHis forlorn face sagged to the bottom of his hastily emptied glass, and I sympathized with him even as I was jealous and self-loathing. Then, with a slyness to his eyes, he craned his neck and faced me with all his head.\n\n\"Say,\" he began, \"Why don't you fill in for me a little?\"\n\n\"Me?\" I replied, shocked. \"How?\"\n\n\"Oh, it's nothing much. You've just gotta be there, run some messages across. All easy, all simple. So long as someone's there, they won't know it's not me. I can pay you a share of my own riches, and you can buy me some spare time with your service,\" the snail replied.\n\n*****\n\nWell, fleeting friends, you know my misfortune now. So enticed by adventure and riches, by the revolt against monotony and tradition, I broke the rules, and in doing so, I earned myself what I had never deserved and rarely sought.\n\nThe grassless lands are wide expanses, but from one side the other can be seen. It is not their breadth which is the problem, but what else traverses them.\n\nGoodbye, fleeting friends. Learn my lessons before you die. I was slower than I should have been, and slower still than the danger which I saw as it came down upon me.\n\nI look up above me now and time has slowed. The end is here and I see all that is in terms quite clear.\n\nI am to be crushed, but let my soul explode with wisdom first.\n\nI was but an ordinary snail, yet only by seeking glory did I die a meaningless death.\n\nTil we all depart - farewell."
] | [
1,
3
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"1485368628",
"1485400940"
] | |
[WP] You work as a sewage engineer in a fantasy metropolis with huge under-city catacombs. | 13 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"The rat squeaked and scurried along the algae slick ledge until it ended, hopping off onto a glowing white orb, treading the submerged object before making several more jumps onto various pieces of floating debris. It paused atop a large, shiny black square and sniffed the air furiously.\n\n“Tipper! Over here, boy!”\n\nThe rodent resumed its hopscotch, taking the ledge again when it resumed and turning a sharp corner, discovering the man and his barge wafting about near a large pile of severed deer heads. It ran over excitedly, almost falling into the brackish green and brown sludge that dominated the sewers.\n\n“Ah, Tipper. Take a gander at this, yah? Got about two, maybe three dozen of these lovely little beasts, just tossed aside. Probably from one of them stag orgies those floaty Gellers like to throw. Why, just give ol’ Rudy here half a day with his trusty Zacto Blade, and we’ll make a pretty penny selling bone bowls to the ladies and Hallows Eve costumes to their kiddies!”\n\nTipper hopped on the man’s shoulder and purred, nuzzling his grizzled, sloppily shaved cheek. It accepted a handout of morsels, swallowing them whole before jumping on one of the deer heads and with a prodigious speed, began eviscerating it.\n\n“No, no, boy! Even that’s gotta be done with precision, lest the shape warp. There’s a reason you and I are the number one Scrappers in Shadesville – we’re sticklers for quality!”\n\nThe rat bowed its head and whimpered softly, which was met by a gruffly affectionate caress. \n\n“Ain’t no thing, little one,” said Rudy, “hey now, I know you always got some happy morsels to show me, ain’t ya?”\n\nTipper squealed loudly and jolted off in a flash, only pausing at the corner’s ledge to look back and dance on his hind legs. Rudy pressed a red lever on his barge’s end and the multicolored collection of wooden planks and metal bellowed forward, its low end torque growling. “Wait for Rudy, ya scamp!” he yelled, “some of us got half the legs and 100 times the mass!”\n\nThe barge turned the corner sharply, evading the hodgepodge of floating debris with precision. Rudy controlled the surprisingly nimble beast with a small steering wheel connected to an anti-gravity ball that floated just under it. He had retrofitted the ball to disperse its waves along any solid matter in its field, which proved excellent for repelling the seemingly infinite barrage of discarded goods that made their way down.\n\nThe rat led the barge down several avenues, avoiding hazardous objects with ease. When Tipper had first run into Rudy – literally while following a heavy spice scene – the man was knee deep in robotic snakes, muttering to himself as he tried to extract their corroded power packs. Both sewer denizens had jumped back and stared the other down for several seconds before Rudy broke out into a raucous fit of laughter. He offered the rat one of his Soyrio rations and Tipper reciprocated by ripping the heads off several of the hidden active snakes in the bunch. Both had recognized the symbiotic potential of the relationship, and they had been inseparable ever since.\n\nTipper rounded a final corner and stopped abruptly, causing Rudy to brake with a start to avoid hitting the rodent.\n\n“Crickey there, boy! You gotta give ol’ Rudy a bit more leeway. His reflexes ain’t as…oh, my stars!”\n\nThey stood at least three meters across and six high, their neatly wrapped bundles packed tightly with thick ribbon wire. Despite the layers of grime and sludge residue, there was no mistaking the contents. The blue and white pills had become so infamous, so plastered on every Info Report, Holo Ad and Propaganda Plane, that even the Scrappers of the Deep knew their name.\n\n“Sweet Lord of Mercy, those are*Downers*, Tipper! Even one o’ those boys would be enough to send both of us to the gallows, and there must be millions in there! I didn’t even reckon that many existed in the empire, much less Shadesville.” \n\nThe rat grew noticeably perturbed, clacking his jaws and scuttering back and forth. He began clawing at the ribbon, severing several lines of it before Rudy was off his raft and mucking through the sludge after him.\n\n“Tipper, no!” he shouted. “We don’t want any evidence that we even came across this stash. Broken seals and our general whereabouts aren’t much, but the Enforcers can make 2 and 2 into 5 easier than I can add ’em proper!”\n\nTipper scurried to the top of the pile, jumping up and down incessantly. He raised his arms up and made a digging motion toward the surface, then lay prostrate on his back with his limbs splayed.\n\n“Oh, you get that idea right outta your head, mister! It doesn’t matter how rich we’d selling the stuff, they’d string us up like pikers. Wouldn’t even care that you were a harmless rodent, boy, your neck’d be right next to mine.”\n\nTipper hopped down, landing on Rudy’s shoulder and bowing his head apologetically before nuzzling his cheek again. The man stroked his head, making his way back to the barge and setting it gently back toward the deer head. “It’s an ambitious thought, buddy, but we’re doin’ just fine, you know?\n\nThat night Rudy dreamed not of salvaged Sport Drones or discarded Levitation Cushions, but of twin gold towers a thousand meters high that glistened with rubies and sapphires. A series of ornate jade steps led up in a spiral pattern that turned green, blue and purple as the sun’s capricious whims hit them. Dozens of Gyrowhales floated around, each ready to be summoned on command. At the very top of the tower in a room made of polished onyx, Rudy sat atop a throne of puffy white clouds while across from him lay the woman in black, holding a single blue and white pill between her fingers.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThe Maypole Bazaar was in its usual full Sunday swing, and Rudy was sweating through his Scrapper’s uniform. He carried, in addition to his usual wares, a death sentence.\n",
"There was another blockage in section 13-E of the New Albion metropolitan sewers. That would be why I'm down here 100 feet below the ground, wearing a hard hat on my head and a handkerchief over my nose. I'm the chief sewage engineer for the city, and it's my job to take care of these things, mainly because there's nobody else who has the experience to do it. Besides, having sewage back up into the commercial district is never good for business and New Albion prides itself on maintaining certain standards.\n\nI had two assistants with me Joe and Adam. It took us 15 minutes just to walk to this section from the closest access point. It's dark and the sewer smelled heavy and foul, so nothing unusual there. The section was made up of a main tunnel that was 18 ft tall with a vaulted ceiling. We had carbide lamps on our hats and we could make out that the center of the tunnel was filled with a river of sewage several feet deep. On either side of the smelly river, there was a sidewalk about two feet wide, which were were standing on. Along the main section, there were also smaller side tunnels with sewer water periodically spilling into the main river. Each smaller tunnel was about shoulder high and just large enough to fit one man.\n\n\"We're here, boys\" I said to my two assistants. \"Let's get to work!\" We didn't know exactly where the blockage was, but I knew it was one of the smaller tunnel leading to the sewage river. The problem was finding out which one, and there were about a dozen of them in this section. It was a dirty task of sticking half you body into the tunnel and prodding around. My assistants each carried a pole with a hook on the end that we brought along just for this purpose.\n\nJoe and I started checking one side of the main section, and Adam was checking the other. He was able to cross the sewage river by walking over a small bridge at one end of the section. After we checked about 4 or five small tunnels, I heard Adam say \"Boss, come here quickly!\"\n\nJoe and I turned and saw Adam pointing to a small tunnel. I guessed correctly that he found the blockage, but I didn't know why he seemed so frantic. Adam began quickly moving towards the small bridge. He was about to cross over when he saw Joe and I approach. He backed away to let us cross and he was keeping an eye on the small sewer tunnel the whole time.\n\n\"What did you see, Adam?\" I asked.\n\n\"Something large is moving in there!\" He said. It's not uncommon to find living things in the sewers, especially for a city as large as New Albion. Rats and small jellies were common. However, for something to plug up a side tunnel, it must at least be the size of a man. I prayed it wasn't a large jelly, because that would take all day to pull it out.\n\nI walked up to the side tunnel and stuck my head in. The carbide lamp mounted on my hardhat show a bunch of garbage - offal, bones, bits of wood, etc. It was blocking the way and in the center of it, there was indeed something moving. I stuck my hook into the pile of garbage to pull some of it loose. When I did this, I saw a squirming mass emerge from the garbage and several large tentacles slither out. I backed away as several octopus tentacles emerged from the side tunnel and started to grip the edge, trying to pull itself out. \"Bog octopus!\" I yelled.\n\nMy two assistants immediately got between me and the octopus. It was trying to pull its elastic body out of the tunnel and we used this time to cross the bridge to the other side of the sewage river. With a wet \"plop!\" The body of the bog octopus freed itself from the side tunnel and fell onto the sidewalk. It was a lot larger than I expected, easily the size of a cow. I had only heard of a bog octopus before but never seen one up close. From time to time, they swim up the sewer pipes and wreak havoc on whatever city they happen to pop out in.\n\nThe three of us began retreating to the street access point. Thank god bog octopus are slow! Despite this, we still ran as fast as we could. As we stood at the bottom of the manhole, we heard no signs of the octopus.\n\n\"What do we do now?\" Joe asked.\n\n\"We tell the mayor, and he hires a couple of adventurers, maybe battle-wizards to take care of it.\" I said. \"This is way out of our league. They should just be happy we unclogged the tunnel.\""
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1,
2,
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"1485373399",
"1485394627",
"1485382283"
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[WP] " I think I understand now. At first, I thought you were just another human hero that had been sent to slay me, but now I know the truth. You aren't human, are you? No- You just look like one. " | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"He was a silver knight. The armor he wore shone like a mirror. The sword he bore was clad in silver. The hair that formed the plume of his helm was a ashen, sooted grey. \n\nHe wandered her domain like a ghost, slaying the beasts that attacked him and passing those who didn't. \n\nShe wondered what he was doing so far from home. The tabard he wore suggested an allegiance to the Human King Aldigne with its draconic insignia of red, but the cloth was faded and torn and received even less attention than the rest of his ragged gear. \n\nHe was slowly making his way through her castle city. Slowly, he traversed forgotten halls and dusty chambers, making his way through the darkness where Man had once dwelled. \n\nHe was coming for her. \n\nHe must have been. How long had it been since the last adventurer came, some fool looking for glory in the murder of the Shunned and the Unwanted? How long since that terrible blade she now bore had sliced its way through the nest of her children and destroyed each defenceless, sessile egg?\n\nShe hid from him, retreating to the deepest chambers, to the grave of the once proud kings in the catacombs of the city. She rounded up her minions, those with enough wits to obey her commands and sent them burrowing into the earth. \n\nThe silver knight wandered empty hallways and slept in the shadows of broken pillars. \n\nShe was so busy in her preoccupation with evading the knight that she nearly missed the sound of thundering hooves. But the strands of her web reached far into the castle and the forests beyond. She could feel them coming- \n\nAn army. An army was coming to slay her. \n\nShe was not too worried. Her forces could hold up against siege. In the past so many had been easily caught by her minions and snared in the forest of webs. \n\nThen she saw the first flicker of fire. \n\nA great smoke filled the land as they set fire to her forest. They brought fire, terrible fire in barrels and in long, bulky tubes. Fire, blackening her castle- Fire, killing her subjects. \n\nFire, illuminating the darkness of the catacombs, charging straight towards her most sacred domain. She hid within the Nest, the old Nest where they had slain her young. She hid, crying bitter tears as they burnt everything with cruel fire. \n\nShe saw, a flicker in the dark, no more than a brief reflection. One attacker disappeared into the blackness, then another, then another- \n\nThe silver knight strode forth, his sword drawn, flickering with bewitching silver light. Silver light that cast a hypnotic spell on the army that had come for her, lulling each man into a helpless torpor. When he had gutted each of them, he turned and stood before her. Dark blood dripped from his marred blade, staining the marbled floors.\n\nHe raised his helmet at last. She recognized those features- familiar features, pale and washed out with the long empty nights and the knowledge of things that crawled and squirmed. \n\n\"Ah...\" she purred, descending towards him, \"My son.\" \n\n"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1485376011",
"1485415007"
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[WP] A man living in the Himalayas. He lives there alone in constant fear of is uncanny ability to turn anything that he thinks about into a steak pie. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"God. Monster. Murderer. \n\nThose words hung heavy in his mind as he stared intently at the bare stone wall of his hovel. The cold black stone stared back, unforgiving. Keep your mind blank, he told himself. Don’t let anything in. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nThe snow fell thickly against the ramshackle shelter he had constructed out of salvaged metal and cardboard. Damp spots spread through the torn and rusted roof, withering the supports away. Several small snowflakes wormed their way through the jagged holes in the walls, coating his shivering shoulders in cold sleet. Keep your mind blank, he told himself. Don’t let anything in.\n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nThe man finally allowed himself a reprieve from staring at the black wall and began to rummage among one of the small piles of trinkets that littered his wet grass floor. The wind howled outside and the flimsy roof shook, but he paid them no mind. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\n“Yes,” he whispered. His thin smile brought a small gleam to the dreary shack on the mountainside. \n\nHe held a dirty photograph in his hands. It was heavy with the dampness of the snow and the sides were nearly in tatters. But the way he held it, it might as well have been made of gold. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nA woman smiled up at him from the soggy material. Her eyes were a fierce green and long blond hair framed her face as it lit up into a smile. On her lap was a little girl, no more than six years old. Her dirty blond hair was tied into a long braid and her mouth was stretched wide. She was laughing. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nIt had been happier back then. Back before the incident that broke his life apart. Sadistic demons below or apathetic angels above had cursed him something unholy. His own Midas Touch. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nHe bit his lip as the tears began to fall again, just as they did everyday when he allowed himself to look at the picture. As his full attention focused onto the small photograph, the edges began to smolder and the hair along his arms stood on end. In seconds, the paper had crumbled into a warm steak pie. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nHe screamed in anger as the brittle crust fell from his hands and the thick, raw meat slipped between his fingers. The bloody contents spread across the floor, staining the coarse ground with red meat and sickly sweet dough. The smell of it almost made him vomit. He had smelled it too many times.\n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nFor the last five years, whenever he gave his full attention to something, it crumbled before him into a mess of half-cooked dough and festering meat. His wife had barely had time to scream before her face slid apart into two slabs of maggoty steak. \n\n“Michael!” she screamed as her body collapsed upon itself. “What’s happening?”\n\n“No! Katy!” he thrust his head into his hands and tried to beat out the thoughts, but it was too late. Katy was spread out before him, a steak pie crawling with maggots bleeding through the living room’s white carpet. \n\n“Mommy? Daddy?” the sound of his daughter froze his blood in his veins. \n\n“Keep your mind blank,” he told himself. “Don’t let anything in.”\n\nBut it was too late. As he pulled his head from between his hands, he saw the horror before him. He had taken most of his little girl out of his mind, but it hadn’t been enough. Her head and shoulders were intact and her eyes stared glassy at the ceiling. Everything below her shoulders flowed out in a red river of steak and crust, mixing with the carnage from his wife’s body. Her little blue dress lay in ruins, stained red with blood. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nEverything had unraveled quickly after that. The neighbors called the police. The police called the military. The military called the government to weaponize his powers. All of their flesh and bone crumbled into lifeless pastry before him. The thick sauce ran over his hands like blood and the flies swarmed around the slaughter he left behind him. \n\nTo be around others was death. And so, he fled to the furthest reaches of the globe, hiding himself away in the frozen wastes of the Himalayas. The entire time he kept his mind blank. Or at least he tried. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nHe had been called a god by the crazed warmongers of his country, ready to turn his strength against America’s enemies. He had been called a monster by his closest friends even as their skin fell apart into slop. He had never been called a murder. Except by the look in Katy’s eyes before the life went out of them, and by himself every day since.\n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nBut now, the last tie to his past was gone, collapsed into the same sticky red ichor that had consumed his life. With the photograph gone, there was nothing left. No sweet memories he could bring to mind without turning the mountainside into decaying flesh. \n\nHe turned his mind to himself. He could feel his skin beginning to warp as the sickly scent of raw meat and sweet pastries filled the collapsing hut. The ceiling dissolved into flesh and rained down on his pale body. The black stone wall melted into a grotesque flow of raw dough. The piles of trinkets around him were now globs of quivering muscle and sinew.\n\n“I’m sorry Katy,” he said. “I’m sorry Sunshine.” \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nMichael.\n\nAnd with his mind turned in on itself, his body collapsed. The foul odor of maggot-infested steak wove into the cold air of the mountainside and a thick river of red etched itself through the pale, unforgiving snow. \n\nMichael. Michael. Michael. \n"
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1,
2
] | [
"1485377189",
"1485379348"
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[removed] | [WP]Proposal from a reaper | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nPrompts go in the title. (Exceptions: [IP] and [MP]). Feel free to repost with the prompt in the title. You can add more detail in the text, but remember prompts should be a starting point and [not be a recipe](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/prompts?src=RECIPE). \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5q6h9v/wpproposal_from_a_reaper/%0A%0A)"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1485384131",
"1485384135"
] |
[WP] Each person can only curse/swear once in their entire lifetime, but when they do, something happens. | 4 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"I stood, my hands in my black dress pants, my tuxedo clean and free of wrinkles, watching, as they lowered the casket into the gaping hole in the floor. I watched them lower it a little at a time. Unblinking. I never took the eyes off the too-small casket, as they laid it to rest next to the bigger one. \n\nThere were no words to say here. I broke my gaze for a few seconds to look around. My friends and family, similarly dressed in funeral clothes, were staring as the hole was filled with clumps of dirt and grass.\n\nThe sun was overhead, shining brightly down on this small concession. I pursed my lips and thought bitterly, *It's too bright today.* It was going to be sunny all day, as I'd read from the weather report. Unfitting for today.\n\nI turned my gaze back to the hole in the ground, now filled entirely with dirt. As the last of it was packed in, people started dissipating. Trickling away, one or two at a time, a muffled sob here, a wail of pain there. I glanced up momentarily when I felt a hand on my shoulder, firmly squeezing it. I saw my father, his face lined with wrinkles. His eyes were wet, I noted. Then, he walked away, leaving me to stay at this grave.\n\nEventually, everyone else left, leaving me to my own devices. I sighed, and stepped in front of the freshly-filled hole. I stared at those two tombstones, reading them over and over again.\n\n*LYDIA MEAGHER*\n\n*MARCH 3, 1987 - FEBRUARY 4, 2017*\n\n\n*HALLE MEAGHER*\n\n*APRIL 19, 2011 - FEBRUARY 4, 2017*\n\nI took my hands out of my pockets as slowly, I came to my knees, sitting on my heels. I wiped sweat off my forehead and looked up at that sun, beating down on me. It seemed to be taunting me. *It's such a bright, happy day!* it seemed to say. *Too bad you can't enjoy it.*\n\nSlowly, my eyes turned to the tomb stones again. They were encircled by an array of colorful flowers, provided by various members of my--no, our, family.\n\nI sat there for a long time, my legs slowly going numb below me. I shifted to a position where I was sitting down on my backside, my legs crossed in front of me. And I just sat there some more, thinking of nothing, gazing into space.\n\nAll at once, it hit me. A pang of pain, agony, a spike of sadness and anger threw itself into my heart. It spread throughout my body, traveling along my veins and nerves, until the extent of what had happened finally hit me.\n\nMy wife and child were dead. They were dead, killed because of me. Because of my own, damned, reckless DRIVING!\n\nI slammed my fists on the grass in front of me as I leaned forward and stayed there, staring at the grass. I barely felt the tears as they left my eyes and dropped, slowly, into the green below.\n\nAnd all at once, I started crying. My body shook as it was racked with tears and sobs of pain. I hit the grass over and over again until my knuckles were bruised, the tears never stopping, the words always going through my head, \"It's my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault.\"\n\nI sat back on my haunches, momentarily out of breath, and I stared at the tombstones. And all at once, I screamed into the open air above me, in the dead quiet of the cemetery, \"GOD DAMN IT.\" I held the last word for a few seconds, then stopped. I heard it echoing throughout the cemetery, bouncing off the grave stones.\n\nI looked down at the floor again, the tears flowing like rapids. Then, I felt a presence behind me.\n\n\nI sat back up, and turned my body to see who the hell wanted to bother me. Then, my eyes widened, and I involuntarily gasped.\n\nThere she was. Lydia. Lydia, with her dirty-blonde hair and striking green eyes. Her skin was pale now, not tanned from the sun as before, and she seemed to glow, her perfect figure radiating a light from behind her.\n\nThen, I looked, and I saw something else. Halle. My daughter. My heart skipped a beat when I saw, little Halle, with my black hair but her mother's green eyes. Short, happy, wearing a little red jacket over the top of her pink dress that she loved. She seemed to glow as well.\n\nThey both had smiles on their faces. I turned fully around now, facing my body toward them. They stepped toward me, Halle hugging me from the front, Lydia planting a kiss on my cheek, holding my shoulder. They felt so solid, but at the same time, something was off, not quite right about them. \n\nLydia bent down, next to my ear, and whispered, so quietly in the way she always spoke. I could still hear her clearly, and the sound of her voice sent a pang of hurt into my chest.\n\n\"We forgive you.\"\n\nAnd I broke down there, sitting down. As they faded away, I sobbed at the cemetery. The tears were streaming again, and I held my head in my hands as the tears flowed and my chest irregularly pumped out as I took in shallow breaths, mourning their deaths. The pain was still there, only slightly lessened by her words, and the tears came harder than ever, nonstop, as if it were a waterfall. I don't know how long I sat there, weeping.\n\n--\nIf y'all are inclined to leave any CC, please go ahead and do so. God knows I could use it."
] | [
1,
3
] | [
"1485408426",
"1485413541"
] | |
[WP] You've always been "that guy." One day, a new "that guy" shows up. This town isn't big enough for the both of you. | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Everyone has a place in life. Mine was Jacob Brown, just an average guy. In the little Alaskan town of Cold Water, John Doe was \"that guy\" everyone in town knew him but no one ever got too close. He lived alone on a dirt road that stretched further than anyone wanted to go down. He frequented a bar in Anchorage called the Golden Moose and he would always order two shots of Jameson and leave without ever saying a word. He owned his own business selling bottled water from the Cold Water Creek, but he only sold to restaurants so not many people really talked to him. I never even paid attention to this man's existence until the event happened.\n\nSam Smith was (according to the news papers) a normal man who was born and raised in Texas. Not much else was known about him other than he worked at a metal refinery. It also isn't known why he would pack up and move to Anchorage, especially during one of the most bitter winters in Alaskan history.\n\nI was in the bar when I saw Sam Smith for the first time. He immediately gave me this bone chilling feeling that he was \"that guy\". He was more talkative than John Doe, already more liked by my guess. It was undeniably true though, that feeling you get when you are near a \"that guy\". Sam Smith ordered two shots of Glenlivet and left. I should have known right then and there something was a miss.\n\nI went back to the Golden Moose the next day to meet a few work friends for some drinks when I noticed John Doe with 2 shots of Jameson, already drank, but he was still sitting. I thought it was strange because he was always in and out but I paid no attention. That's when Sam Smith walked through the door. He sat down right beside John Doe and the tension in the air grew fierce. Sam Smith ordered 2 Glenlivet shots. Not a word was spoken.\n\nSuddenly a man who had talked to Sam Smith the previous day yelled out, just as Sam was finishing his 2nd shot \n\n\"Hey! Aren't you that guy?\"\n\nViolence on a scale I will never see again erupted. Both men immediately rose to their feet and landed blow after blow that would have put entire hockey leagues to shame. Blood slung everywhere but neither man budged an inch. \n\nBar patrons moved back at first, then crowded around to see what would go down in history for decades to come.\n\nJohn Doe's punches became less controlled and much heavier handed, his face bloodied beyond recognition.\n\nSam Smith's punches became sloppy as well, but showed no sign of stopping. His face was already disfigured enough that any normal man would have stopped.\n\nI saw the bartender call the police from his cell phone but I knew it would do no good.\n\nAround the 40th punch is when they say the men died. It didn't stop them though, as if possessed by the Devil and God both men continued to execute hits with such ferocity that it started to get supernatural. Some people started to try to break the men up, but it was as if they were in another dimension and became untouchable. Some people ran out of the bar. Me? I stayed. I had to see this fight. This wasn't some drunken bar brawl, this was that guy vs that guy and something about it shook me down to my very core.\n\nSam Smith's punches at this point started to glow with the heat of Texan metal, while John Doe's had an aura around them that glowed with the ice of Cold Water Creek.\n\nParts of the bar started to chip away around the devastation, still both men never moved an inch. The local police finally showed up and were absolutely bewildered at this event. The two men had sunk at least a foot down in to the floor where the pure determination to be \"that guy\" had wore away everything in a sphere around them. One of the police men tried to reach out and his arm disintegrated upon contact with the air around the fight. The other police man discharged his gun 6 times, each bullet stopped midair and slowly melted and swirled away and around the two men. Screams of panic from everyone came at this point and everyone ran but me. I was seeing this through until the end.\n\nThe punches slowed from both men but the force behind them became otherworldly. Time and space bent around them as if a black hole had opened up in the bar. \n\nSuddenly both men reared back for one final punch that would determine the fight. With the force of the moon crashing to earth both of them landed a perfect punch on the jaw of the other. Time stood still and so did they. I noticed the bar was no longer standing, everything with in a mile had been completely destroyed. I turn back to the men and they were now stone. Slowly they crumbled away in to the wind and with that the fight was over. \n\n--\n\n\"You're bullshitting Jacob Brown!\"\n\n\"I am not!\" I told my friend who refused to believe me\n\n\"You're always messing around with these stories, you've always got to be \"that guy\"\"\n\n--\n\nThat's when my life came in to focus like a needle going through a loop. I was that guy."
] | [
1,
2
] | [
"1485414951",
"1485435019"
] | |
[WP] You have [ability x]. It is based on the severity of [circumstance y]. One day, you find that [extreme limit of x] is occurring. | 111 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"It was a fairly pleasant day in [TOWN], [STATE]. Nothing much tended to happen there, when compared to the bustling metropolis of [CITY], a mere [DISTANCE] miles to the [DIRECTION]. As per usual, [PROTAGONIST] woke up, went downstairs and made coffee. As he was about to take the first sip, he stopped. Something wasn't right. He glanced instinctively at his [CONDUIT FOR POWER], and dropped his coffee. It smashed instinctively to the floor, but though he flinched, he never took his eyes away.\n\n\"This can't be,\" he whispered to nobody in particular. \"[PARTNER]!\" he called, hoping she might be able to figure out what was going on.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" she said as she tore down the stairs. \"Is it your--\" she turned the corner and saw the [COLOUR] glow - it had never been that bright before. The last time it had been anywhere near that bright was over five years ago, when [DANGEROUS EVENT IN WHICH PROTAGONIST AND PARTNER NEARLY DIED]. They had been lucky to escape with their lives. If the bright [COLOUR] was anything to go by, the chances were they weren't going to do so again. \n\nThe car was started and within minutes, they were hurtling down the I-[MOTORWAY] going three point reckless times the speed limit. Behind them, [CITY] lay, ignorant of what was to come.\n\nThey had barely made it as far as [NEIGHBOURING STATE] before [CATASTROPHIC EVENT THAT CAUSES WIDESPREAD DEATH]."
] | [
1,
9
] | [
"1485466384",
"1485540175"
] | |
[deleted] | [WP] You were at a comic convention dressed as an alien when the earth was invaded and enslaved. Everyone with a believable costume is still pretending to be alien. Tell us about your life, and the community of cosplayers who now live the high life. | 26 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"\"Um-Bleep bloop, where shall we put them, master?\" I asked. I was terrified at the sight of strangers being tied up and forced to cycle. \"Put him in the energy extractor room, you dingus!\" The commander alien bellowed. I picked a guy dressed as a robot up. \"I'm so sorry, I can try and get everyone out of here. I should've tried to bust everyone out.\" I whispered as I found the main corridor. \"Calm down lady, I know you can do it!\" He whispered back, weakly smiling.\n\nThat was 3 years ago.\n\nEver since my friends convinced me to go to Comic Con with them as aliens, my life has changed. Everyone who managed to pull off being an alien have adapted to life in outer space. \nMy friend Chris sadly wasn't good enough of a liar and had to become a slave, but I slip him some food every day. \nClaudia and I have been trying to find a way to bust everyone out, but there isn't much luck when you're in outer space, and there's only one heavily guarded escape pod.\n\nDisregarding the slaves, life hasn't been too bad. I'm a Gadget Designer, which is a pretty good job, since I wanted to be an Engineer in school. I help design things that help the aliens in battle, such as Telekinesis Glasses. As I am smoothing out my 3 years worn alien costume, Claudia comes running. \n\n\"LUCY! One of our best soldiers has disappeared! Can you track him?\" Claudia was lucky enough to become Second in Command of the Army, with her amazing karate skills and conveniently shaped costume.\n\"Sure, let me just get the signal tracker..\" Every alien had been fitted with a tracker on their wrist, with red dots being soldiers and green other occupations. I managed to steal some from the Gadget Workshop to give to everyone. \"Ah, here.\" I checked the screen of the tracker. There was a cluster of dots all spread out a little. \"That's the spaceship. Normal.\" I thought. I spotted a tiny arrow in the corner indicating there was someone beyond the screen. \"Maybe he's stuck somewhere?\" I pondered.\n\nI kept scrolling and scrolling, until I saw something really strange. \n\n\"WHAAAAT?\" Claudia and I said in unison, gawking at the red dot. \n\nOn the tracker screen, there was a giant circle labeled E-A-R-T-H.\n\n\"HE'S ON EARTH?!\" I screamed.\n\"No way girl, there must be something wrong. The aliens have already enslaved, like, 99% of the population, and we're the 1% that are 'aliens'..\" Claudia assured.\n\"Maybe he's a human and has managed to escape?\" \n\"Nah, I've checked and all the soldiers are aliens, except for these two gamers called Dan and Tim, who are onboard.\"\n\"Should we show it to your boss?\"\n\"No, let's bust outta here and find him!\"\n\nClaudia and I started jogging toward the escape pod. \n\n\nPt.2 coming soon\n\n"
] | [
1,
9
] | [
"1485488263",
"1485492033"
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[WP] You are the leader of a wealthy and prosperous nation. You are beloved by all and respected around the world. There's just one problem: the real leader was assassinated months ago, and you're an imposter. | 46 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"I hate press conferences. No, I'm not shy even in front of all the cameras and reporters. It was hard enough leading a country to begin with, but doing it as someone else was another thing. I had to maintain just enough of his personality to convince everyone I was still him, yet still manage the country the right way. This would be easy if things weren't a complete mess before I took over.\n\n\n\nLet's go back a bit. The guy I took over from was pretty bad at running the country. He had attempts on his life regularly by pissed off citizens and other world leaders. No one liked him or his way of doing things. It got to the point where he decided to get a body double. This is where I came in. I was the right height and looked similar enough that some minor facial and vocal chord surgery was all it took to make it believable that I was him. \n\n\n\nDespite me being there to go out in front of the public in his place he would still do it himself most of the time, too much pride. Someone in the crowd shot him. The secret service managed to get him out of there, but he still died coughing up his own blood. He couldn't even manage to speak and tell them that he was the real one. \n\n\n\nEveryone who knew he had a body double assumed he was the double. I ended up taking his place and slowly changing things. I'm not doing the best job ever, having had no experience, but the turn around from how bad he ran things caused everyone to love me. World leaders and my citizens alike both cheered praises for me. Even those who hated the man I am before I was him. Everyone just blamed the leader that came before him for what a rough start he had. No one realized he had a rough start because he was genuinely shitty and he was doing good now because it was someone else.\n\n\n\nStill, having to be him enough that no one began to think I was the double meant I had to be a bit dumb and a major asshole sometimes, so press conferences weren't fun. But they were necessary. I take a deep breath and I walk up to the podium. As I walk the crowd cheers, where as just a few months ago at least half of them would've booed. I take both pride in their cheers because I know they are really for me, and sorrow as I know that all I have done would be accredited to him. This man who had run the country into the ground the whole time he ran it would be hailed as the greatest leader in history. In the history books it would say Donald Trump made America great again."
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1,
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"1485495773",
"1485500418"
] | |
[WP] It's the zombie apocalypse, and you are scavenging inside an abandoned house. You find a video camera, and there's a tape inside. What is on the tape? What do you do now? | 5 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
" I struggled through the broken wooden fence as quickly as I could. I tried not to lose focus from the blood loss from my leg as I clambered up what remained of the front porch stairs all the way to the dilapidated front door. I snapped my head around in terror, searching for any signs of them, listening for their inhuman moans of insatiable hunger. The world was quiet except for my own erratic heartbeat. Nothing was alive out here, nor had been for a long time. The air stank of death and ruin.\n\n I turned back to the door, my sweaty, blood-drenched hands pathetically trying grip the dirt-caked handle. In my desperation, I slammed myself against the frame and it came loose, the lock having been eaten away by years of rust and neglect. Whispering a thank you to whoever was listening, I hobbled into the darkness of a home of a family long dead and gone. \n\n I stumbled around like a drunkard on the hardwood floor, clutching my mutilated limb with one hand and feeling my way with the other. The last confrontation with those undead motherfuckers had left me with a chunk missing from my right leg where one of them had bitten clean through it. Needless to say, it hurt like a stinking bitch. I knew if I couldn’t staunch it, I’d either die from the blood loss or the sickness would take me too. With every creak of the dying floorboards, my mind kept racing back to that one burning thought: I needed medical supplies, fast. Where did people use to keep that stuff? The kitchen? Bedrooms? It was getting harder and harder to focus. My vision was blurring and the pain did not help. Suddenly my feeling hand grabbed at air and I lost my balance. I fell through what must have been a doorway and landed with an excruciating thud. I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth and rasped to myself. “The bathroom, you fucking moron.”\n\n I couldn’t bring myself to stand up. The pain and exhaustion was too much. I dragged myself out of the room I had fallen into and looked for signs of a bathroom. There, at the end of the hallway. Tiles, or what was left of them at least. That had to be it. I elbow-crawled for what seemed like an eternity, leaving a dark red stain in my wake. I reached the tiled floor and looked around in a crazed frenzy to confirm my suspicions. I saw the broken porcelain pieces of what must have once been a sink and over in the far corner was something that looked like a toilet, now fallen into ruin after years of disuse. \n\n Looking up above where the sink used to be, I saw something that made me choke back a sob of relief. A medicine cabinet, hanging by its last nail, with the door slightly ajar. With newfound hope and strength from the adrenaline rush, I forced myself up. Propping my bad leg on what must have been the bathtub, I could barely contain myself. I was shivering like a squirrel. It might have been the anticipation, but I was more inclined to believe it was the disease fucking with my nervous system. This cabinet possibly contained the last thing on this godforsaken Earth that could save my life. I held my breath and gingerly opened the dented door.\n\n Nothing. It was empty. Panic ensuing, I groped around inside it, clinging to that last bit of hope that I might find something, anything, on its dusty shelves. \n\n Nothing. All was still and silent. There was a dull ringing in my ears and I felt my insides drop. It’s a sickening feeling, that feeling you get when you know that you are powerless to do anything but accept your fate. I break down in tears and loud, animal cries as my tired, broken body slid down into a sorry heap. I convulsed and let out screams of futility. All these years. Running. Hiding. Fighting. Surviving. The sacrifices I had made, the things I had done. All for nothing. This was it. This was the end. \n\n My screams turned into maniacal laughter as my mind started to lose its grip on reality. I thrashed around on that bathroom floor, cackling like a madman. Flailing, I threw myself out of the bathroom and stood up on my good leg. I started limping back down the hallway, tears streaming down my face. My foot hit something hard and I tripped, falling face-first into what must have been my own trail of blood. My laughs died back down into quiet sobs as I lay there on the floor coming to terms with what was about to happen. I opened the one eye I could see out of with my head turned to a side. I looked down towards my feet to see what I had tripped on. \n\n It was smooth and metallic. Small, no bigger than my hand. Moonlight shining in through gaps in the front door reflected off of its side and I was able to read four embossed letters: SONY. My incoherent mind urged me to pick it up, and so I did. As I ran my fingers over the object I slowly started realizing that I knew what this was. It was an old Handy-cam video camera. My father used to have one just like this. God, this must be decades old. The flip-open screen hung loosely from its hinges and I could see it slowly coming to life. I must have hit the power button with my foot when I tripped over it. \n\n I was intrigued by the fact that it still worked after so long, and suddenly the camera was all I could focus on. I could use this to leave behind a message for whoever would find it next. I could leave behind my story, what I had been through, and reach out to those who cared for me and those I once cared for. Tears sprung back into my eyes yet again as these thoughts went through my head, and I turned the camera to face me and hit record.\n\n It responded with an angry beep. I hit the button again, same response. Frustrated, I turned it back around and looked at the screen. \n\n MEMORY FULL. PLEASE DELETE EXISTING FILES TO FREE UP SPACE. \n\n “Fucking hell.” I muttered under my breath. I clumsily navigated the menus, my barely responsive fingers sliding awkwardly over the touchscreen display. Finally, I reached the memory card folder that contained the video files. There were a ton of them, all of them videos of the family that once lived here I assumed. I hit the Delete All button. A message popped asking me if I was sure I wanted to delete all 800 something files. Just as I was about to press Confirm, something caught my eye. \n\n The splash image of one of the videos was a picture of a little girl. Squinting, I realized that that specific video was of her birthday party. She had a little pink dress on and was holding a bunch of balloons of so many different colors. It was the most colorful thing I had seen in so long. I wanted to see more of it. I hit Cancel, and opened up the video. \n\n It started out with the girl’s mother staring into the lens, big smile on her face. “Alright Lily, you won’t see this for years to come, but welcome to your first birthday party!” Her voice was tinny coming out of the tiny speakers of the video camera. She had bright blue eyes and her blonde hair fell in curls around her face. She spoke in excited whispers. “Okay, let’s do this!” She turned the camera away from her. The view panned over to a group of people gathered in a beautiful living room. They were all seated around the little girl, who clearly had no idea what was going on but was enjoying every minute of it. She was the spitting image of her mother. \n\n Sunlight streamed into the room. Sunlight. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen the sun. Had it always been this beautiful? I don’t know. “Bring that thing over here Jodie!” A man’s voice this time. Presumably the girl’s father. The camera moved over towards him. He was smiling too, a comforting smile. He had thick head of brown hair and a pleasant, chiseled face. “Everyone ready? One, two, three, go!”\n\n The crowd of people began singing Happy Birthday to the child. Some were clapping, some were singing more enthusiastically than others. It was off-key and out of time. But it was the most enchanting thing I had seen in forever. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. The colors! The music! The laughter! Lily was clapping her tiny hands and bouncing up and down in excitement, clearly enjoying the attention everyone was giving her. \n\n In that moment I realized I couldn’t do it. These were the memories of the family that built a life here and lived happily before everything went to shit. I started recognizing the faces in the pictures on the walls as the same people in the video. I couldn’t erase their last moments and replace them with the dying pleas of a stranger. I put the camera down in front of me and set it to auto-play. It cycled through recordings of every great moment in that family’s life: Lily learning to ride a bike, Bryan, her father, coming home after getting a promotion at work, Jodie’s parents celebrating their 60th anniversary. There were so many moments, and all of them full of happiness. I found myself smiling for the first time in years.\n\n I heard a guttural growl. It was followed by a sickly moan. The stench of rotting flesh began to fill the air. They finally found me. My leg had lost all feeling and the rest of my body was too worn out to move. I didn’t even flinch as one of them fell through the open front door, it's lifeless eyes fixated on me. One by one, they filled the house. Following their insatiable hunger, they lumbered towards me and I made no effort to resist them. I could barely feel them rip the flesh from my bones.\n\nWith a smile still on my face, I kept my eyes on the screen until the very end.\n\n\n\n\n"
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1,
2
] | [
"1485498300",
"1485543243"
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[removed] | [WP] Write the story of how you lost your virginity. From the POV of your SO's mom/dad. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nErotica is not allowed. This includes prompts likely to generate such responses. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5qgjaq/wp_write_the_story_of_how_you_lost_your_virginity/%0A%0A)"
] | [
1,
1
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"1485515109",
"1485515642"
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I was told I should post this here
Enjoy! | [WP]What if the lottery is an institution to catch time travelers? | 62 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"This might be the worst thing I've ever written. Here goes:\n\n___\n\nI hear Suze running into the living room as everything fades back in. \n\n“Oh my God, Paul are you okay?” she says.\n\n“Yeah yeah, fine,” I say, sitting up against the couch.\n\n“Here,” she shoves a glass of water down my throat, “Have some water.”\n\n“No I don’t need any-”\n\n“Please Paul, it’ll make you feel better,”\n\nI choke down the water and through the bottom of the empty glass I catch a glimpse of the paper in my hand. Today’s lottery ticket. I look up at the TV.\n\n“How did this happen?” Suze asks.\n\nI look down at my ticket again.\n\n8 10 22 29 33 45.\n\nI look up at the TV screen.\n\n8 10 22 29 33 45.\n\nEverything goes black again and I feel Suze’s arms catch me before my head can hit anything around me.\n\nSuze and I dress up nicely and walk down to the local newsagency where I had bought the lottery ticket from. I hand over the ticket and the cashier checks it in the computer. His eyes goes wide and he checks the ticket again.\n\n“Sir, I think you’ve won $22 million,” he says.\n\n“Yep, I sure have,” I say with what I can only imagine was the biggest grin I’d ever struck in my entire life. Suze does the same and kisses me on the cheek. The cashier checks the ticket over and over again.\n\n“Well, I think it’s pretty safe to say you got the right numbers there,”\n\nHe hands it back to me with a slight apprehension. Then before I can react, he pulls a gun from under the counter and shoots me and Suze in the head. \n\nEverything goes black again.\n\nI think I’ve won $22 million.\n\nI haven’t really won it, more like stolen it. But I haven’t really stolen it, more like won it. Yeah, I’ve won $22 million.\n\nGetting on my knees, I rip the lottery ticket out of his hands.\n\nIs this wrong to do? Probably.\n\nOh, shit. The lottery people have been called already, they’re coming down here any second. I shove the ticket into my pocket without the care I should be giving it and grab the body of the guy who actually won this money. Fuck, I never thought a dead body would be this heavy. I haul him over to the back door and kick it open, and like the worst shot put thrower ever I chuck him into the storeroom.\n\nNot even close. His head smacks against the back wall and his legs poke out of the door. He’s not hidden at all.\n\nI hear a car door shut out the front and know I have to speed up. I grab his legs and slide him over to the counter. His body bends in a way a living man never could as it shapes itself into the small space. I run over to the dead lady and do the same with her.\n\nWith the ring of a bell the front door opens and a man and lady walk in, both holding a small notepad.\n\n“Good afternoon, Sir,” the lady says, “Would you mind if we asked you a few questions?”\n\nOh fuck. Someone reported the gunshots, they’re going to find the guys under the counter, and I won’t get my $22 million. Great.\n\n“Sure,” I say.\n\n“We understand someone has won the lottery in here?” the man says to me.\n\n“Yep, that would be me,”\n\nThey both exchange a look.\n\n“It’s you?” she says.\n\n“Yes. I won. Fair and square.”\n\nCould I sound any more suspicious?\n\n“Well,” she says with a chuckle, “Congratulations, Sir. Can I ask what the numbers were that you played?”\n\nI have literally no clue.\n\n“Um,”\n\n“Surely you would know your winning lottery numbers off the top of your head, right?”\n\n“Yeah, it’s just, you know, all the shock getting to me right now is clouding my mind and I can’t quite remember.”\n\nGood save.\n\n“Ah, I see.”\n\nThey both note something down.\n\n“Were these numbers ones that you always play, or was this the first time you played them?” he asks.\n\nBoy, they’re really focusing on the lottery and not the potential murders.\n\n“Um, it was just a one off thing, you know. I got lucky I suppose.”\n\nThey both nod and write something else down. The dead guy’s hand slips out and hits my leg. I quietly kick it back under.\n\n“And what is your birthdate, Sir?”\n\n“Why is that relevant?”\n\n“Do you not know your birthdate?”\n\n“No of course I know my birthdate-”\n\n“Then what is it?”\n\n“Fifth of July, 1975.”\n\nThey write something down.\n\n“And what year is it this year, Sir?”\n\nWhy the fuck are they asking me that?\n\n“2017?” I say.\n\n“You’re not sure?”\n\n“2017.”\n\nThey write something down.\n\n“Alright, I think that’s all we need, thank you Sir.” he says.\n\n“And congratulations.” she adds.\n\n“Th-thanks.”\n\nThey both walk out of the door. I breathe a sigh of relief.\n\nA moment later she pops her head in the door.\n\n“Oh, one more thing that I accidentally left in the car,” she says.\n\nShe walks in carrying a massive check for $22 million and hands it to me.\n\n“See you then!” she walks out.\n\n“Fucking hell Barry, I am this close to giving this up,” she says to him as they walk back to the car.\n\n“I know, but I promise we’ll catch someone some day.” he says.\n\n“When, Barry? When? When will we catch someone? Tomorrow? Next week? The next fucking century?”\n\n“I don’t know, you know I don’t know. Just think how amazing it will be when we finally do catch someone. It will change the world.”\n\n“I’m starting to think they don’t even exist. This was all a waste of time. Starting the lottery was such a waste of our energy, and we’ve only lost money too. We just threw away $22 million then. We’re in debt, you know.”\n\n“I know we are. But when we catch someone, all of our problems will be solved. We can stop the lottery once we catch someone, because we could have all the money we wanted.”\n\n“Whatever. Let’s just go home.” she says and sits in the passenger seat. Barry sits in front of the steering wheel and starts the car. He turns to her.\n\n“I am promising you Carrie, time travellers are out there. It’s just a matter of time before we catch one.”\n",
"\"We've got another one for you, John. He's a bit spooked, so go easy on him.\" \n\nGo easy on him? Yeah, right. John chuckles a little as he stands up to stretch, and Irving joins in. \n\nIt's a little-known secret that massive conspiracies generally employ the most sadistic, cynical people they can find. Who's going to believe you when you say that the American government is actually run by rattlesnakes in suits? \n\nWell, if you were trustworthy, maybe a few people. If you're the same guy that was just saying 'Man, the government is so obviously corrupt,' and spending half an hour talking about fraud and the NSA's spying activities? Not so many.\n\nThe government isn't run by rattlesnakes, by the way. They just handle the taxes.\n\nThey take the time to chat a little bit while walking down the hallway. For whatever reason, the engineers who designed their building really loved hallways that stretched on into oblivion, and had put them anywhere they could. As a result, 'break time' generally meant 'take a walk to the breakroom and realize you've already run out of time'. \n\nNot that anyone complained. It was hard to complain to rattlesnakes. They're not very friendly.\n\nThe room is small, dark, and smells of fear. At least, that's what John would tell you, if he were to recount the experience. In reality, the engineers were intelligent enough to create proper ventilation systems and, as such, the room doesn't really smell of anything at all. \n\nJohn lights a cigarette. He's sitting across from the prisoner, a fit, young man wearing a suit. A nicer suit than John's, in fact. John makes a mental note to look into civil forfeiture again. Does it cover clothing?\n\n\"You people still smoke? Gross.\"\n\nMaybe it doesn't quite matter whether or not it covers clothing.\n\n\"Look,\" John says, shuffling some papers in front of him. They're blank, but the prisoner doesn't need to know that. \"We know what you did.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I told you.\" The man groans. \"Like, I'm a time traveler. Great. What're you going to do about it?\"\n\nA smile creeps over John's face. \"That's a good question. How exactly *do* we get you to admit to being a time traveler?\"\n\n\"Excuse me? Are you deaf? Do you speak sign language?\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" John says, stroking his chin, \"perhaps we can force it out of you. I've developed special techniques for this, actually. Stress-tested them. I wasn't the one stressed, by the way.\"\n\nThe man's protests continue. John smokes a bit more. It's always fun, that moment of realization.\n\nThis was *by far* the best way to discourage time travelers from messing around in their timeline.\n\n---\n\n*[more stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/forricide)*"
] | [
1,
3,
5
] | [
"1485542905",
"1485573346",
"1485553677"
] |
[WP] You're cast away on an lonely island. Sometimes a mermaid comes to visit you | 6 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n",
"He lay in darkness, wishing the coarse granules about him might swell forth and smother him. Palm, banana and coconut woods stretched and swayed above him, and beyond them, the stars. The wind pressed against his wet body such that he knew its every size and dimension; amongst black seas he was painfully aware of his tininess. In an endless space, which he believed to be teeming with life, he was alone. The man wished not to retreat to his grass encampment, with its sharp-edged leaves, guided skillfully upon him by foreign winds; instead, he begged the defeaned stars for a sea-lost bottle of pills, so he might pass quietly and without pain into the night above. \n\nThoughts of her invaded his psyche like silent phantasms. He recalled at once the blissful moment at which he became aware of another's presence upon the island that served as his playground and sephulcher. Beside long-ramshackled cries for help, which he himself had carved upon the shore, the man had spotted a circle of rocks, too even to have been formed by the ceaseless tide. Within, two fish swam about one another, each pleasantly observing the other's image. He ripped them from their pool at once, and against a tree, swung them like clubs. When he ate of them, his teeth shook like weak blades against their brilliant armor. He was suddenly unsure what his gut was telling him. His basest instinct, whose advice he followed against certain berries and leaves, was in disorder. At once he believed there were other residents in his island-cubicle and that god had revealed his hand. A mixture of elation and terror met with force the raw flesh in his stomach, and forced its way out. He let loose his voice for the first time in days, and for hours he howled at the trees, his only companions, demanding that his benefactor reveal themself. \n\nWhen he was exhausted, laying then against hot sand, he saw her. The contours of her lips were of a supple angle unavailable in the trees and fruit which surrounded him, her smile was likewise a gesture so alien to him that he had nearly forgotten what it meant. His attempt to return the expression was a bleak affair. He mustered forth all memory of his past self, clad in Burlington wool, effortlessly displaying his masculinity in tight smiles between cocktails, and conjured forth a over-wide extension of facial muscles, which foolishly displayed his yellowed teeth and fleshy gums. He had had no instruments with which to lay claim to his new home, no hatchet, knife or fire, he had only himself. He was his only tool for survival. His hands were bloody and raw from the cracking of coconut, his fingernails were worn down, and worst, his beard had grown beyond hope of keeping it untangled. She was modest in appearance, but her skin and hair were nonetheless pure, apparently untainted by the salted waters through which she swam. Her voice was clear and unwavering in tone, and the quiet integrity of her one word- \"hello.\" was nearly enough to make the man faint. \n\nTogether they would speak at length about their disparate worlds. He told her of the dizzying spires filled with accountants, managers and salesmen, the schools and households: the battlefields upon which billions fought to be remembered. She regaled him with her life, hunting fish and gathering of colored stones, whose every shade had a different significance. She told him her folktales and legends, and sang to him in a language seemingly without syntax, pitches and syllables unrecognizable. She asked him to sing for her, and in a haggard, befouled tone, he sang a favorite tune from his childhood, until its melancholy verse caused him to weep. When he could speak again, he asked her a question. \n\"Your world is so beautiful. Why do you come speak to me?\"\n\"Because I'm lonely too.\"\nAs the words left her lips, he knew he needed her. He wanted to lay beside her, to cry naked in her arms, and to be comforted. In swift motion he leaned heavily upon her and pressed into her soft lips a chapped kiss. He took hold of her breast with altogether too much force, and was pushed off with hot, indignant tears. \n\nShe paused, mouth agape, for not more than a moment, before darting away into the sea. He was left then, facing the sky. He thought for a long time about chasing her, but he had not the courage to brave the water. His tears caught in his coarse hair and never reached the water below him, they were his forever. When he finally rose, destined to wither away while bound to himself, he wondered defeatedly if she would ever return to him. \n\nShe never did. "
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1,
2
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"1485553341",
"1485592417"
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