post_text stringlengths 0 17.5k | post_title stringlengths 4 315 | post_scores int64 0 42.1k | comment_texts list | comment_scores list | comment_times list |
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[WP] An alien, a time-traveler and an Eldritch Horror all live in the same house. | 28 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"*thump thump thump* \nDarren stood on the porch of 1312 Leng Terrace, one hand in his pocket, the other rapping on the large, wooden door. From what he could tell, this neighborhood was pretty nice. Trees lined the sidewalks, half of their leaves shades of bright orange and deep red as the crisp air of fall rustled through them. The cars along the street were all in nice condition, and he thought he'd even seen a park a couple blocks back. All things considered, he had started to have pretty high hopes for this place as he'd driven here. \n\nBut, now that he'd actually arrived, he wasn't so sure. The Victorian house had clearly once been quite lovely, but that day had long past. A war with the forces of wood rot, creeper plants, and weathering had left the front of the house with a distressingly sagging porch, and brick and stonework that, if not covered in vines, was dusted with a dark grey filth. As he looked around the cigarette butt-strewn porch and the untamed wilds of the front yard, his lip briefly curled into an involuntary sneer. He was deciding if he should just leave before anyone knew he had been here when he heard hurried footsteps and the door swung open.\n\n\"Hello there!\" Said the strangest dressed man Darren had ever seen, \"What can I do ya for?\" Darren stared for a beat, then remembered why he was here and stuck out his hand. \n \n\"Hi, I'm Darren McDonnell. I'm here about the ad you put out looking for a sub-letter for the year?\"\n\"Ah yes, happy day! I'm Cornelius Zapparelli, pleased to meet you!\" said the man as he put the end of an occupied cigarette holder in his mouth and thrust his hand into Darren's, moving from a simple handshake into a complex fist-bump/palm slap that Darren was powerless to try and reciprocate. \"Learned that from a man in New New Hampshire, pretty neat, huh?\"\n\n\"Uh, yeah. New New Hampshire?\"\n\n\"Follow me my boy!\" Cornelius bellowed as he spun on his heel and strode into the house, leaving the door swinging open behind him. Darren followed, and as he did, he began to take in what Cornelius was wearing: a dark brown waistcoat with a shining golden pocket-watch chain, over a cream-colored blouse with lacey frill that encircled his neck. Below that he was wearing blue and green vertically striped corduroy bell-bottomed pants that flared out over the tops of a pair of stunningly clean Timberlands. The outfit was topped off by a shining-black top hat, on the brim of which were a pair of what Darren could only assume to be sunglasses, but the strangely shifting iridescent visor was no form of polarized glass he had ever seen before.\n\n\"This house has been in my family for ages,\" said Cornelius, his voice echoing through the cavernous house, \"but I'm leaving for a year or so on a trip and I need someone to take up my portion of the rent. Can't be busy dealing with funds and monetary worries while I take in the wonders of 24th century China, now can I?\" \n\n\"I suppose not.\" said Darren, only half-catching what Cornelius was saying as his gaze moved from the attire of the man in front of him to the rest of the house itself. It stretched farther back than it appeared to from the street, and the small foyer opened into a room with 30-foot high ceilings and a long hallway on the far side, which itself seemed to have at least a dozen other rooms and hallways branching off from it before sharply turning to the right. \n\nThe walls were completely covered in paintings and posters. In the spaces not covered by works from Renoir, Monet, Pollock, and many others Darren didn't recognize, there were posters of old black and white movies or concerts for Dr. Dre, Janis Joplin, The Beatles, and MGMT. Tribal pottery and weaponry from who-knows-where adorned tables and mantles. A metal sculpture that seemed to *glow black* stood in the center of a sitting room, giving off a slow pulse that Darren could feel in his chest as he passed it. As he tried to take it all in, his thought process was cut short.\n\nIn one of the first rooms of the hallway, through a slightly opened door, he saw a small... duck? It was standing on a table, looking at a book. Well, maybe it wasn't a duck. Darren wasn't quite sure what he was looking at. Cornelius kept on walking, orating to Darren as he went, but Darren had stopped, and was now slowly walking towards the door. \n\nThrough the crack, he could see what appeared to be a small, long-bodied bird. But it had three feet (one in the front and two in the back) and its head was the size of a softball, with no beak, eyes, nor feathers to speak of. He furrowed his brow, letting a quiet \"What the?\" escape from his lips. The creature turned around.\n\n<<Hey! Dicknut! The hell you doin?!>> ",
"Stephen fumbled his keys as he frantically tried to open the door. He yanked the door open only to be greeted with a cloud of smoke.\n\n\"Ayy, bro, wassup?\"\n\n\"Will you put that damn thing out?\"\n\n\"Sorry bro, you shoulda told be before I lit up.\"\n\n\"Goddammit Xayden, why did I have to get stuck with an alien from a planet covered in weed?\"\n\n\"Ayy, lmao. You should visit sometime, it's super chill.\"\n\n\"Can't you take anything seriously? We have a problem. Crt'druh'ghral is missing. I've searched everywhen and I can't find... him? Her? I've never been sure if it even *has* a gender. Anyway, it's gone, and-\"\n\n\"Chill out bro, I just saw it a few minutes ago... or hours... or days. I dunno, I'm hella stoned right now.\"\n\nJust then Stephen heard a guttural moan from the billowing cloud of smoke. A head, something like a sabertooth tiger with a rhino horn and covered in scales, poked out. The creature opened its mouth and spoke, if you want to call it speaking.\n\n*I, Crt'druh'ghral, Behemoth of the Eldest Lands, Mover of Mountains, He Who Ruptures Continents, have been lost in the smoke clouds of this UFO fuckhead.*"
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[WP] Three guys get drunk at a bar and each wake up in Mexico for a different reason. | 24 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Richard wakes up slumped over hay next to a bunch of pecking chickens that jam their beaks into his face. He shouts out and scatters away from the chickens only to see them chasing him. Roaring incessantly for a couple of minutes tires him and the chickens out. He sits down, defeated, and lies his head down on the muddy ground with his eyes closed, chickens exploring his body. \n\nThat is, until a shadow rises over him. Richard opens his eyes.\n\n\"Dinero,\" the woman says. Richard raises an eyebrow.\n\n\"Talk in English you stupid woman,\" he says back to her, still intoxicated enough to not use his brain.\n\n\"Dinero. Dame tu dinero,\" she repeats and he remains confused. \"I want money bitch,\" she spits on his face.\n\nRichard sits up and wipes his face with an outcry. \"The fuck's wrong with you?\"\n\n\"Money,\" the woman reminds him. Behind, a man he recognises comes from a shed-like building a couple of metres away. Richard knows he's from the bar.\n\n\"Hey, where the fuck are we?\" he asks. The man smiles.\n\n\"Mexico,\" he yawns and stretches his arms. \"We're in Mexico, my friend,\" he rubs his hands together, \"and you owe me a lot of fucking money,\" he walks forward. Richard can just sense he's in deep shit.\n\n\n\nMeanwhile, Richard's friend, Alex, finds himself tied up to a post in a strange part of some desert town. He can tell it isn't American or someone would have reported it to the police. No, he is screwed and he is painfully aware of it. He sees a biker racing over the sand and bumps in the dry road and tries to cry out but is far too weak. The biker stops anyway.\n\n\"You awake, huh? Hijo de puta. Te cogiste a mi hermana. I make you pay,\" he says and gets back on his bike.\n\n\"Hey man, why you doing this to me?\" Alex cries out. He's still too drunk in the heat. \"I just wanna go home,\" he says as the biker disappears back the way he came.",
"\"What the - ooooh!\" One groaned, sitting up and rubbing his head. He felt a knot.\n\nTwo woke up in the passenger seat, with the same headache. \"Who hit me with a sledgehammer?\" \n\nThey both looked around for Three. \n\nHe was in the trunk, dead. \n\n\"Oh yeah!\" Two remembered. \"We came here to dump the body!\""
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[WP] You're a pacifist who has been drafted into a brutal war against the other side of the world, you have only one objective, kill or be killed. | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I urged, I pleaded, *I begged them*, to send me anywhere else, the soup kitchens, doctor assistance, tank maintenance, just anywhere; *anywhere but the front lines.*\n \nThe war was for the same reason as every other war in humankind’s history. Greed, it didn’t matter what reason they put up on the newspapers or told the media to say. This war wasn’t any different. Except it was. To me, anyways. I thought the nation I lived in was better than some of the other warlike nations. They accepted volunteers for moderately bloodless conflicts sure, but to call for a draft? That hadn’t been done for a very long time. I tried to wrap my head around the reasoning. Everywhere I looked there seemed to be the answers, but they weren’t really. \n \n*“Their government is corrupt!”*\n \n*“Their people are criminals”*\n \n*“They don’t contribute to society”*\n \nAny reason I heard was something that could’ve been solved in the courts, an international court. We had one, why weren’t we using it? Humanity’s greed. Always driving us forward. Despite our technological achievements, despite the strides we’ve made, and despite the good we’ve done. It just seems like just tools for waging bigger and bloodier wars. But you can’t argue with the government. \n \nI thought about running away for a long time, the thought never really stopped even when I was in boot camp. I thought about shooting myself in the foot, or getting in a car accident on my way to work. But I couldn’t. I never even owned a gun, where could I get one is such short notice? I couldn’t just run away from this, my friends; my life was still here, I wanted to call that cute girl I always ran into at during my coffee breaks. A car accident could hurt someone else. I could be blamed, I didn’t have the money to afford something like that. Inaction turned the cogs on the machine until it was too late to do anything else than just to report to the boot camp. I’d be tracked down by the government if I didn’t show. I wanted so badly to believe that my country was different, that it was fighting this fight for the right reasons, instead of just it’s greed. \n \nBoot camp wasn’t anything special. I learned how firearms worked, despite my pleading. I couldn’t go home and it’s not like I knew how to escape a military installation, getting caught would just be worse. I resolved when I got to the front lines to empty my gun secretly. To prevent any sort of killing on my part.\n \nWhen we got there, in a camp just a couple miles away from the fight, I could hear the gunfire and smell the smoke from artillery fire. I barely ate anything and did not sleep that night, I was scared for what I might be made to do the next morning. When we awoke, we were ushered into our formations before the sunlight had even begun to peak over the horizon. I was organized into a squad of 9 other men. Our squad leader was named Hendrickson. Hendrickson told us that we were going in a Humvee to secure a town not far from here. It was, according to him, supposed to be a light job with minimal enemies. \n \nThe whole way there I was sweating. Not just from the desert heat, which I had never known before, but from the sheer terror of having to face a firefight. It was this terror that made me forget to unload my gun and so when we arrived, I had no choice than to take my rifle with live ammunition in it. We exited the Humvee and made our way quickly to the side of the building where we were split into two. Allie would take the other 4 soldiers and secure the northernmost building while me, Hendrickson and the others would go to the south. The hope was that we could sandwich the little forces the enemy had and force them to surrender. Which sounded like I might be able to get through this. \n \nMy hope was quickly drained when I heard the pops of gunfire as we made our way to the center of the town. I heard someone let out a loud\n“Shit!”\nWe all dropped to the ground, me against a destroyed brick wall. I turned around to see one of our soldiers on the ground, with another pressing his hand hard against his chest. Hendrickson ordered me to provide cover fire while the rest attempted to move the soldier to a more secured position in one of the buildings. I turned my gun and shakily rested it on the top of the brick wall and peeked my head over. There was one man. Covered in a sort of gharb I had only seen in movies and TV shows. He shouted a language I didn’t understand. I tried to force myself that I had to do this. That if I didn’t pull the trigger. He would run at me and kill me, possibly my commander and the other soldiers. \n \nMy finger slowly started to pull back the trigger, and I closed my eyes tight as I prepared to shoot the rifle. \n \nAs I finally gained the courage to do what I believed had to be done, my rifle was knocked out of my hands and the butt of another gun slammed into my head. I was thrown backwards and I opened my eyes to see one of the men aiming a gun right at me. I gave a weak \n \n“I’m sorry!”\n \nBefore I heard another pop, not from the man’s gun. But from a pistol behind me. It was Hendrickson. \n \nI saw the man in front of my drop to the ground, as if the plug had been pulled on his legs. He didn’t move. Hendrickson got in front of me and offered his hand, he pulled me up and ushered my to the building where the others were. \n \nI was in disbelief. Back there I had seen another person’s life extinguished in a single moment. That man probably believed we were evil. Sent by an evil government to rob him of his life or his family. He thought he was right in doing what had to be done. Everything he fought for. \n \nNow, he was gone. \n \nAnd my hell was just beginning.\n \n \n"
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[WP] You are an archaeologist that set out on an expedition to Alaska and you stumble upon an ancient civilization trapped in a huge ice dome. | 22 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"The most interesting thing about the Ice City had to have been the livestock. \n\nMultiple species of seals, Arctic birds, reindeer, and fox were sold in the market places. Apparently the animals that had been trapped within the dome had quickly become domesticated as food dwindled.\n\nChildren carried brindle colored fox cubs through the street as others herded a moose through the streets. \n\nHowever, the cutest animals had to have been the seal pups, their skin painted with mud and big eyes wide. ",
"My name is Yukoni. I have lived in the City of Voll all my life. Like my parents, and my grandparents, and back over a hundred generations, I have never left this city. I was born under The Dome. \n\nThe Dome protects us. Thats what the Priests have always said. The Dome is the Hand of God. A benevolent shield built by The Creator himself to shelter his chosen people. To keep out the Evils of the World of Decay.\n\nI never cared for church. I stopped going over three years ago, when I turned fifteen. It broke my mother's heart. She had always wanted me to be a Maiden Priestess, as all good little girls in Voll are supposed to do.\nBut I couldn't do it.\n\nThe truth is, I never believed in The Dome.\n\nWell, I mean I know it's real. You can see it, touch it. It's as real as the obsidian that The Builders use for every home in the city. What I mean is I don't believe its the work of some mysterious deity. I don't believe in 'The World of Decay' outside. I don't believe in 'The Barbarians of Murder' who supposedly drove our ancestors into the ice all those centuries ago.\n\nTo me, The Dome was nothing more than a prison cell. A cage for rats. And all the people here were just a bunch of captured animals.\n\nNobody had ever left The Dome. Not for hundreds of years. So how did we really know what was out there? How did The Priests claim to know so many details of 'The Decay'? And if there is a God, why would He trap His 'Chosen People'? Why not lead them to fight?.. Or something. Fighting is only in history books in Voll, but I think I know the basics of what its all about.\n\nI always dreamed of seeing the world beyond The Dome. \n\nOf course, I never told anyone that. Not even my parents. The Law on such talk is clear. The punishment, severe.\n\nSo I've lived here my whole life. Every day just like the other. Never anything changing in The City of Voll.\n\nBut all that would change today.\n\nThe whole city fled to churches. People were crying, holding their families, hoping for The Priests to conjur up some miracle to save them from 'The Day of The Comings'. THe Priests were just as scared as anyone else, though. They couldn't stop what was happening.\n\nI must've been the only one in the whole city who wasn't afraid. I was excited!\n\nStill, My parents had dragged me to our local Church. I just wanted to go to the City limits, see the cracks for myself.\n\nIt would turn out I didn't need to.\n\nThe crash was loud enough to hear, even from inside our church near the city center.\n\nThey had broken through. \n\nThe 'World of Decay' had broken through.\n\nThe outside world had found us. \n\nMy name is Yukoni. I have lived in the City of Voll my whole life. But today, I will at last learn what lies beyond this city!",
"As I walked in and saw it, my jaw dropped in amazement, and a tear formed in my eye. It was beautiful. And it was new. I could already tell that this was not a civilization that had been previously discovered. Inside the ice dome, there were buildings, beautiful buildings, made out of something I had never thought buildings could be made out of. They looked unlike anything I had ever seen, with a weird marbled mix of being shiny black, and sleek, like the matte paint of a car. It couldn't be, but I knew it was. The buildings were made out of meteorites. \n\nAs I walked further into the dome I saw more and more buildings, a small village, all made out of the same beautiful marbled meteorites. As my entourage walked into the dome behind me, my awe was replaced by professionalism. I immediately began to split people up to explore the buildings, and we located the center of town.\n\nThere were buildings arranged in a pentagon, all facing one building. It couldn't be though. We were in Alaska. No one had ever discovered this before, and I had never even heard of any stories about buildings build out of meteorites. But it was a church. Completely and undeniably a Christian church. My professionalism was once again replaced by awe, and I began to wander forward towards the church, which had to be almost 6000 miles away from where Christianity was known to have existed in the ancient world. \n\nThe constant excited questions that often buzzed through my brain during a new discovery were not there at this moment. I just continued to walk towards the church, while butterflies flew through my stomach and my heart threatened to pound out of my chest. As I walked up the stairs, I glanced back at the men and women I had sent out to explore, all of whom were staring with the same look of amazement I realized must be in my own eyes. Turning back to the door the ancient building, made out of marbles meteorites, I placed a hand against the door and slowly began to push."
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[deleted] | [WP] You live in a world where time freezes once every minute. However, you are unaffected. | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"My life was always like this. It never started. There is no reason, it just is. Every minute you live, I've lived two. Every minute of sound is followed by one of silence. At a young age I learned that I was the only one. My friends thought I was a devil because I could move when they couldn't see. I would disappear and reappear. They were scared and I changed. I was quite. I could never find words to describe why I forgot what we were talking about. My mom thought I might be crazy, but she was always afraid of doctors, especially brain doctors and chiropractors. By the time I was old enough to pursue help I had tricked myself into thinking I knew how to survive. I tried not to move unless someone else was moving. I lived my life alone and afraid. I worked online and got twice as many projects done. I lived weeks without seeing a living human. "
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[WP]Zeus goes a bit mad and crafts an orb that fits in the hand. This orb carries the weight of the world in the hands of its carrier. He decides to go to the humans in disguise and give the orb to many men. This orb breaks the spine of hundreds, until Zeus found a man who can hold it. | 122 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/PrajNK_Writing/comments/6e7i2j/zeus_judgment_part_2/?ref=share&ref_source=link)\n\nZeus studied the orb he had created, anger smouldering in his eyes. Athena looked at him with uncertainty. \n\nThe small sphere in Zeus' hand looked to be nothing special, but Athena knew what it could do. She had been present when Zeus created it, just moments back. She could see how the power of the orb caused even the King of the Gods to stagger, his power weakening. For just a moment, Zeus had had the appearance of an old man. He had struggled to control the power, to keep it inside the sphere and not escape. The orb was more powerful than his master bolt. \n\nZeus set his eye upon Athena. \"My daughter, do you see what I have created?\" \n\nAthena nodded in affirmation. Zeus continued, \"This shall be the second time I have punished the humans for their vile acts.\"\n\nAthena nodded once again. \"Yes, my lord, the first time after releasing the evils into the world for accepting Prometheus' fire.\"\n\nZeus shook his fist in anger. \"And they deserve it! Centuries upon centuries, they have disrespected us. They have forgotten the true gods, __us__! They keep rambling about some Jesus Christ, some Holy Trinity... we have lost control over our homeland! We have lost our place to other, non-genuine, foul 'religions'!\" \n\nAthena shivered, waiting for her angry father to get to the frightening point. \n\nZeus paused, and continued, in a low voice, \"Now, they'll receive judgment for their misconduct. They divided their land into 'countries', and forgot the true monarchic administration. I'll reverse that. I'll find thr right person, and make him the ruler of the world!\"\n\nAthena gasped. \"But, my lord, how will you know who is eligible for such a position? The humans today are worse than even Tantalus and Daedalus of our day. If the power of the world rests in the hands if one person, how are we to know that they won't...what do they say today...'mess up'?\"\n\nZeus smiled slowly at her, a glint in his eye. He held up the orb. \"That's what _this_ is for.\"\n\n---\n\n",
"An intense feel of hatred, resentment and wrath blinded Zeus's mind as he crafted the orb that hold the weight of the world. *Life nor intelligence was enough for them, they always want more and if they dont have it, the blame is on us. It's time to show them the burden that we carry for eternity\"* Thought Zeus as thunders came out of his fiery, white eyes.\n\nZeus itself descendend into the unholy, mortal ground giving every single man who ever accused him for the mistakes they made in their lifes. None was strong enough to hold it let alone to carry it. Their spines broke and their tears were spilled.\n\nZeus wasn't satisfied, the void inside him wasn't filling and his wrath was about to be unleashed. He disguised a crippled old man wearing pearl-white robes. Suddenly, a woman whose features looked sculpted by Michelangelo itself draw his attention. \n\n\"Lady! Could you please hold this for me?\" Said Zeus.\n\nThe woman grabbed the orb and held it like if it was a feather. Zeus was speechless but he knew something was wrong, he looked straight into her blue eyes and smirk drew in his face.\n\n\"Hera, you fooled me. What are you doing here\" He asked.\n\n\"Someone had to stop you, you were about to kill every single human being\" She said and sat on his lap.\n\n\"They blame us for their mistakes, they are greedy arrogans who can't deal with their burden. I am punishing them as they deserve\" Replied Zeus while his eyes and hair slowly turned white.\n\n\"Punishment, suffering, that's all you always do. They had enough, go back to Mount Olympus. Now, its an order\"\n\n\"Since when do you protect them? You didn't protect Paris when he chose Aphrodita over you\" \n\n\"It was different, go back to Mount Olympus I wont say it again\" Hera grabbed his arm and constricted it with greath strength\n\n\"You may be my wife, Queen of the Olympus but I am the strongest of all, so leave right now and let me do my teaching or my wrath will fall upon you, Hera. I have many nymphs to satisfy me, I don't need you\" Zeus's true form revealed as he said that, the sky turned black and lightnings struck around Hera.\n\nHera didn't say a word, she revealed her true form too, grabbed Zeus and took him into their bedroom in the Olympus. \n\n\"You are going to do what with other nymphs?\" Hera said and put herself on top of Zeus.\n\n\"You can't imagine what I will do to them\"\n\nHera grabbed Zeus by the throath, asfixiating him. \"I love when you talk dirty\"\n\nWitnesses behind the closed marble doors described that encounter as one of the scariest and most intense scenes they have ever heard. \n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nIf you enjoyed my response please consider checking /r/chasisoxidado for more!\n\nP.s: I don't really know too much about mythology so I might have made some mistakes but anyway I hope you enjoy it!",
"Chuck Norris grasped the orb, staring longingly into it's milky-grey mass. He wondered what it was made of, and decided that it would make a good addition to his collection so he climbed the long flight of stairs and returned to his third story apartment.\n\nHe kicked open the door, and tossed the orb onto the table with the others. \"I wonder why the gods keep giving me things?\" he thought. \"It's almost like they want something in return.\" He sat on his couch, and thought back to when he was a child. \"You're meant for great things, Chucky.\" his father had said. \"If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.\"\n\nThat was the day his father had introduced him to the sport of martial arts. He remembered with a fondness how happy he had been when he won his first duel, a fight to the death with 12 heavily armed and highly trained assassins. He was only 4, but he still remembered the feeling he got when he had finished killing them. He was happy, and, more importantly hungry. He lit a fire, pulled out his machete, and began skinning the corpses of the assassins to roast over the flame. He ate well that day, and that was when he discovered his love for the taste of human flesh.\n\nFinally, it hit him. \"Of course, it was Hades!\" he exclaimed. He had finally remembered; he now knew why the gods had been giving him gifts. On the night of his first match, as he feasted on the corpses of his opponent, Hades had visited him, and had told him this: \"Over the course of your life, you will be given 4 things: a sword, a shield, a part in a mediocre CBS show about cowboys, and an orb. Once you have received your fourth and final gift, the orb, you will go to sleep, and when you wake up you will be with me in the underworld, forever a slave to me, the god of the underworld.\"\n\nChuck smiled, a gleeful smile because his life would now be complete. He would be achieving his lifelong goal: to become such a feared fighter that he would get to work for the god of ~~death~~ the underworld himself. He closed his eyes, and slowly drifted off to sleep."
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[removed] | [WP] Your one of the most powerful vampires in the world but struggle to get other vampires to take you seriously due to the fact you were turned as a child | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\n[Copy-cat](http://i.imgur.com/38FjDgW.gifv) prompts (taking a recent prompt and changing only a small detail) and recent reposts (even unintentional) are not allowed. Please search the sub before submitting and wait a minimum of two weeks between reposts. If your idea is based on something you read elsewhere on reddit, chances are it's been submitted here already. \n\nPlease do not delete and repost prompts. If your prompt does not take off, then please wait, as per the above. \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/6dzz65/wp_your_one_of_the_most_powerful_vampires_in_the/%0A%0A)\n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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"1496060486",
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[WP] You are a character in a multiplayer game/board game/D&D, and you get increasingly frustrated with your player for their bad gameplay/dumb decisions. | 26 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Do you know how bloated you feel after eating sixteen wheels of cheese in one sitting? I do. \nI also know that the feeling of dairy products wreaking revenge on your insides for the domestication of animals is *nothing* compared to the burning exhaustion after running across an entire country after being awake for thirty-six hours. Or the indescribable agony of dying a thousand deaths, only to be ressurected to die again. Or the roiling hatred you develop for whichever cruel God has decided to dominate and puppet you today. \n \nNo, compared to that, eating sixteen cheesewheels is a picnic. The dairy dash is a delight when compared to having your (soon to be) corpse thrown at an enemy again and again and again until through blind luck you succeed. \n \nWhatever sins I commited in life, they could not possibly warrant this tortuous hell I live in. I just pray that when the God that delights in my suffering dies, they too are sent here."
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"1496066551",
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[removed] | [WP] You're Sigmund Freud's cocaine dealer. He's given you steady business for years but after hearing his theory of the psychosexual stages of development and the Oedipus complex, you begin to worry about the mental well-being of your most loyal customer. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nWhile it doesn't seem to be your intent, the mods reserve the right to remove anything we feel may become harmful to the community. 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/6e0yg4/wp_youre_sigmund_freuds_cocaine_dealer_hes_given/%0A%0A)\n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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1,
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"1496072635",
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[deleted] | [WP] Whenever somebody dies, a star dies along with them. A mugger shoots a man for his money and notices the Sun becoming much brighter. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Keep trying! We haven't got much time!\"\n\nThe head surgeon, Dr. Rosalynn Tapper, moved the drenched towel from the top of her head to around her neck. Despite the AC running at full blast, the heat was unbearable.\n\n\"They just lost Japan and Australia! The Pacific Ocean is boiling- hurry!\"\n\nRosalynn couldn't work like this. It was already too stressful without this old man panicking and yelling at her. \"Shut up! I'm doing my best here!\"\n\nThis really was mission impossible- trying to bring back an 80-year old man who had been clinically dead for over 20 minutes. It probably had nothing to do with the global catastrophe anyway; it was most likely a huge coincidence.\n\nA young man had run into the emergency ward screaming with the bloody corpse in his arms. With staff and patients already panicking about the rising heat and brightening sun, this had not helped matters. Someone was finally able to figure out that the man was claiming that his shooting of his grandfather was the cause of the solar apocalypse.\n\nOf course, Rosalynn didn't believe a word of this, being a woman of science. However, it didn't seem like there was a solution to the sun blowing up anyway. Why not spend her final moments on a surgery? Maybe there really was a world beyond science and she would save the world.\n\nEven if she did that, then what? Wouldn't the world just end up right back at this moment when the old fart croaked again? The evil D-bag crying in the corner of the operating room probably thought he had doomed the world but it was likely a matter of time anyway- if his theory was correct.\n\nThey had finally stopped the bleeding, but the bullet remained in the patient's liver. Now adrenaline-spiked blood was being pumped into his veins. The vitals were still flat. It was really hot now- Rosalynn reckoned they would all be toast in a couple of minutes. The bright light shining through the hospital was blinding, even with all the curtains drawn. If not for her transitional lenses, she would not be able to see anything at all.\n\nA young doctor hopelessly pressed the defibrillator pads on the patient's chest one last time before he collapsed to the floor from the unbearable heat, joining a half dozen other staff members in the room. Suddenly, there was a beep and a spike on the screen. The patient had a pulse!\n\nOn cue, the heat and brightness began to subside. The sobbing murderer suddenly perked up and rose to his feet in exhilaration. The world had been saved! Rosalynn calmly walked over and stabbed the incision scissors into his neck. The hospital would use the young man's organs to keep his grandfather alive for as long as possible.\n\nAs he lay bleeding out on the floor, a star exploded 40 million light-years away."
] | [
1,
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"1496074256",
"1496077938"
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[WP] His knife was sharp, but her claws were sharper. | 42 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"C5-32 was a planet that not many ventured. One hundred rotations around the sun had come and gone, but Lt. Greg Houser had seen no sign of a rescue at the extraction point. One hundred days and his worst fears were becoming more and more true. His crew were all dead or missing, he had become skeleton like due to low rations. The old and decaying man had carefully and meticulously rationed out all of his food and water to last him one hundred days and made sure he had enough gas to make it to the extraction point. They didn't show up and now he was going to die.\n\n\nGreg was never going to see his wife of 30 years or his family again. He was never going to see his boat or the lake or his '67 Mustang. And he was never going to experience life like he wanted to all because he was greedy and wanted that promised three million.\n\n\nInstead he was stuck on a planet that was not his own in an ancient looking temple that was not his home in a spandex suit that barely fit him. It was starting to get darker out and Greg needed to find a place to sleep for the night; not that he was going to get much of it thinking about where he went wrong and if he could've done anything different in his life.\n\nHe found a cave that was barely exposed to the surface and climbed down into it, his automatic light coming to life on his spandex suit. It was quiet and damp, only a few rays of light shining through holes on the ceiling. As he continued to walk, the lieutenant made sure his hand was against his knife on his hip. God forbid he runs into anything that could pose a threat to his being after everything else he had been through.\n\n\nAnd sure enough, like clockwork, a low and bone chilling growl came from three different directions further into the dark. Greg ignored it and pressed on, going down one of the passages. No more than fifty steps had been taken before another, but much closer, growl sounded- this time from right behind him. Slowly turning around, Greg drew his knife and watched as two glowing red eyes stepped slowly toward him; a monster emerging from the shadows.\n\n\nThe beast stood roughly seven feet tall and was covered in matted and thinning red and brown and black fur and scales, red eyes peering straight into Greg Houser's soul. It was a Dusk Walker, nocturnal alien beings that had been long time occupants of C5-32 before humans even discovered the earth-like planet. They came out at night and hunted much of the land, humans only recently being added to the menu. The monsters resided in the darkened caves and caverns of the planet and built entire colonies for reproduction. Some even seemed as smart as humans.\n\n\nThis particular Dusk Walker was a female, judging by the obviously pregnant belly it was carrying. It looked pissed off and hungry and before Greg could even think the word death, the beast lunged at him and pinned him down, growling and chattering at him. It's sharp teeth showed and drool started seeping out of its lips, Greg guessing he looked like a delicious- and spandex wearing- meal. He grabbed his knife and dug it into the Dusk Walker's neck, a blood curdling howl of agony sounding from the beast. Bad idea, Greg.\n\n\nIn a swift motion, the Dusk Walker raised it's bear-like paw and extracted its claws, swiping Greg across the chest and down to his hip bones. This caused Greg to yell, the pain unlike anything he had ever felt before in his entire life. His knife was sharp, but her claws were sharper.\n\n\nJust as he felt the poison that secreted from Dusk Walker's claws course through his veins, he heard the all too familiar sound of a spacecraft landing- his extraction had finally showed up.\n\n\nBut it was too late.\n\n\nLt. Greg Houser of the Hercules Space Exploration Team, succumbed to C5-32.",
"Gordon lay his knife on the table, his jaw left agape. He'd never seen someone fillet a fish so skillfully in his life. Though he'd heard rumors of an incredible, cat-like chef, he could not have imagined on this day that he would walk into Hell's Kitchen and meet a girl with the eyes, ears, fangs and even claws of a feline. She was one of six genetically engineered humans created in a Japanese laboratory. To be more specific, she was one of six surviving genetically engineered humans created in a Japanese laboratory.\n\nJapan sought to appeal to their growing and most perverse market in a horrific way; they wanted to engineer actual \"catgirls\", and sell them for a profit. After countless failures and immeasurable controversy, four years ago, they had finally succeeded. Six of the experimental humans were able to survive artificial birth, and were bought by an eccentric American citizen who raised them as his own children and set them free to the world at the tender age of 18, just as any loving-but-in-dire-need-of-some-alone-time parent would.\n\nThis is the story of just one of those children, Anetta Wallace or, as her online fans refer to her, \"Mewlia Dean\". She aspired from early childhood to become the greatest chef the world had ever seen after eating what she has only ever described as 'the perfect salmon'. She wants to share the joy she felt eating that incredible entree with the world. To do that, she knew she'd have to become big. She needed attention. She needed the spotlight. She needed to become a star.\n\nThe plan was simple: Get noticed. She already had the skills, she just needed to know the right people. She reached out to every celebrity she could think of, until finally, she was contacted by Guy Fieri. After she took him on a trip to the ritzy part of flavortown and blew his tastebuds right out of the water. From that day on, he couldn't shut up about her, and this caught the attention of a few executives, people with the influence and power to make her small dream into a big reality. Many were hailing her as the best chef of all time, a natural grandmaster of the delicate arts of cooking. Though some would attribute this to her feline distinctions, she knew in her heart it was because she wanted it more than anything.\n\nA few strings were pulled, a few names got thrown around, and somehow she found herself live, on national television - in a cooking competition against the legendary Gordan Ramsay himself. Self-absorbed as he was, Gordon elected to host the event in his very own Hell's Kitchen. Before the contestants met, she was allowed to choose the dish and she knew she could only choose the very dish that started it all - Grilled salmon. Simple, effective, and requiring great skill to truly bring to perfection.\n\nThough Gordon accepted, he couldn't have imagined he'd lost the war before the battle had even begun. The two contestants approached their respective preparation areas, and after a quick meet-and-greet, they each moved to prepare their meal. Before them, a raw salmon, unscaled and ready. Gordon was confident; he'd cooked many salmon in his time, and in many different ways. He would seek to recreate his famous Teriyaki Salmon dish, a tried-and-true favorite of the people.\n\nHis opponent had no famous recipe, no attributed... what the hell am I typing right now. This is dumb. She cooked some kick-ass fish and beat him. The end.",
"“After the break we’ll talk to our special guest.”\nChef Mario Batali had been on TV a long time with 6 different TV shows on the Food Network along with a multitude of online programs. However, what he would be doing after the break on this show gave him pause. Somehow researchers at the National Feline Institute had given a cat the abilities of a gourmet chef by repeatedly showing it Pixar’s Ratatouille. In the next segment of the show he would be cooking with one of the world’s leading feline cooks, Cupcake. \nMario had always believed in equal opportunity for everybody and didn’t have a hateful bone in his body. But this was too much. How on earth could cats cook. Mario had recently tried Fancy Feast and it was gross. Any species that thought that was food belonged nowhere near a kitchen.\n“Talent coming through.”\nMario whipped his head around and locked eyes with an oriental shorthair slinking her way over to the set. \n“I presume you are Cupcake.” Mario yelled out to her, attempting to be somewhat cordial.\n“Meow.”\nCats may now be able to open Michelin starred restaurants, but the basics of the English language still eluded them.\n“This can’t be sanitary,” Mario whispered to his producer incredulously.\n“She licked herself thoroughly before coming out.”\nMario could only shake his head in disapproval.\nThe cameras started whirring into action now as his producer gave him a signal, and they were off.”\n“Welcome back. I’m here with Cupcake whose new restaurant, Catfood, is opening this week in NYC. We’re going to be cooking one of her signature dishes, chilean sea bass in a white wine reduction.”\nMario glanced over to where Cupcake was already gutting the fish. Her claws were a blur as a spray of fish scales and fish blood covered her fur. \n“I am not eating that,” Mario muttered to himself.\nCupcake was already onto the next step now, dumping an entire bottle of Sauvignon Blanc into a pot on the stove to reduce it. \n“This cat’s gonna put us all out of business,” Mario thought to himself. \nAn inkling of an idea hatched in Mario’s head. “No, that’s crazy. You can’t. Quit thinking that way.”\nIt was at this point that he noticed his producer wildly flailing his arms, trying to get his attention. A jolt of embarrassment surged through him as he realized he had been staring down at his blue Crocs mumbling to himself for the past minute. \n“Sorry about that folks. Now Cupcake, can you tell me your inspiration for this dish?\nThe only reply was a soft purr from his interviewee. \nMario picked up a long, sharp knife laying on the counter, weighing its weight in each hand. \n“Just one swipe is all it would take. It would be like slicing through a tomato.”\nMario had a lot of experience killing animals. As a chef he had killed countless lobsters and clams for the sake of his cooking. How was this any different?\nThe cat had bounded up to the counter now and was lightly seasoning the fish. \nMario felt all of his inhibitions let go as he brought down the knife on his target. Cupcake shot out from under his strike, and his knife buried itself into the wooden counter with a thud. Mario hardly had time to reacquire his mark before he felt a searing pain in his throat. He touched his hand to the area and removed it to reveal it was completely red.\nBlood was now gushing down onto his fleece vest and staining his cargo shorts dark red. He felt woozy now and knelt to his knees. Seemingly thousands of cats now surrounded him, scratching at his eyes. As darkness crept in he had one final thought.\nHis knife was sharp but her claws were sharper.\n",
"It really makes sense that he was the brain, then, right? When you really look at them and think about it, she's got the blades, and he's got the plans.\n\nHave you ever contacted them? I heard that their services are quite expensive. It's more than worth it, though. They deliver death as much as they avoid it. People even say that they might have a deal with the crown... or the devil.\n\nBy the way, they've dissapeared again. They seem to be hunting someone. They were last seen at that inn that they seem to love. The... uh... Dragon's Nest? Something like that. That's like two days from here, around Myria. But I don't think you'll find them. When they are in the hunt, they're invisible. Go there and wait it out, they'll surely go there after this job.\n\nBut hey, you seem really interested in them, right? You even shivered once or twice as I talked. Is it that you need a job done? Or maybe... You are the job?\n\nHa! Boy, you're in trouble. I could even fight you for the bounty, but they'll get the drop on you in just a couple of days, i'm sure. And they sure don't like thieves. I'd rather not get in the way.\n\nYou hear that noise? That's not a delusion, young man, nor is it the wind. She must be right besides us, waiting to strike. And you can't outrun her or beat her in combat, but I heard that if you entertain her you might get a quicker one, you know?\n\nMaybe you should've stayed hidden, but maybe it's too late now.\n\n",
"His light swept across the oak paneled walls and thick, lush carpet. In the distance he could hear gunshots and the occasional scream, but in his corridor there was only silence and his heavy, careful tread. He grinned to himself and tightened his hold on the rifle. The children's rooms seemed unguarded, he could almost feel their young flesh in his hands... \nHis flashlight beam played over a small, delicately carved oak table with a framed photo displayed on it. The table was nestled in a small alcove recessed in the corridor wall, and the photo showed a smiling group of children posing near a lake. *I can't wait to meet some of you,* he thought to himself. *So many young, smiling faces...* \nA noise from across the hall caught his attention and he turned away from the picture. From behind a wood paneled door opposite him he thought he could hear muffled sobbing. He grinned, and approached the door. Bringing up his rifle in front of him, he slowly reached out and twisted the doorknob. \nOn the other side was a comfortably appointed room with bunk beds, posters, and a heavy leather couch. In the corner huddled a group of children, wearing pajamas and faces tight with fear. In the back of the group the man could see a young girl crying and being comforted by another child who couldn't have been more than a year older. She must be what he had heard out in the hall. \nThe man licked his lips and slowly lowered his rifle. *This is it.* He could feel his heart-beat speeding up, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He smiled at the children, and slowly reached across his chest and gripped the handle of his hunting knife. There was was silence in the room as he slowly lifted his knife and approached the small, silent group. \nFrom the front of the silent circle of children a figure stepped out to meet him. She was a small, skinny girl who couldn't have been more than twelve years old, and yet as she stepped towards him there was no fear in her eyes. \"Oh, am I going to enjoy this,\" he said, and licked the blade of his knife. She looked at him and slowly lowered her hands to her side, slightly outstretched with her palms facing towards him. \n\nShe slowly curled her fingers into fists. \n \n*SNIKT!*\n",
"Leo took a deep breath, trying to calm his trembling nerves. He looked at the knife in his hands, sharp and cold, and at the scratches down his arms, hot and throbbing.\n\nA low growl rumbled from around the corner. He could hear her, he knew she was there. Waiting. Watching. Looking for any sign that his guard had dropped for just a moment. \n\nHe dared to look round. \"Now, where are you?\" Leo could see nothing except the old couch by the window. Her claws had made deep gouges in the leather. \n\n*Fuck,* he thought. *Why does it have to be me?*\n\nThe growl sounded again, louder this time. He swallowed his fear, and in one fluid movement stepped out from his hiding place.\n\nImmediately, a pale streak shot out from beneath the couch and flew towards his face, screaming blue murder. He wrestled it to the ground, wincing as the claws dug into his skin, tearing over the previous scratches she had gouged. \n\n\"For fuck's sake, Mittens! I'm clipping your claws, not tearing your eyes out!\"\n\nThe ginger cat yowled in protest as he finally pinned her down. Leo scowled at her as he started clipping her claws. \"Honestly, I pick the bluntest knife just so I don't cut you, and you do this! Really, Mittens,\" he scolded, \"you're such a baby sometimes.\"\n\nHe ruffled her fur when he was done. \"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?\"\n\n\nThoughts? : D",
" Magic... sometimes it sucks and sometimes it's good, you know the phrase \"be careful what you wish for\"? Well I never believed it, nothing I wanted to happen ever happened... mainly the magical stuff like wanting a new life or something. I saw shooting stars before and made countless wishes at 11:11 and nothing ever changed until it worked... and I fucked up since I wasn't specific enough... I don't know how to feel though.\n\n I felt like going all out on November 11th even making a small fire in a bowl and writing \"I wish I had wolverines powers and it would be like I was born that way.\" So maybe it'd make things perfect for me. I waited until 11:11 and said the wish at the 11th second tossing the paper with lighter fluid on it in the fire. I said \"I wish I had wolverines powers and it would be like I was born that way.\" Exactly the same as the paper since I had rehearsed. Nothing happened... I was expecting that though so cleaned up the stuff and then I went to sleep on my couch after watching some YouTube. \n\n When I woke up things were odd, I was in a bed and everything felt different. When I looked down I was wearing a tank top that only reached a little over my belly button and I was wearing boxer briefs that showed off my body's new form... it was hourglass shaped and I started freaking out when I figured out what was going on. I got up and ran to the full length mirror that was now in my room and stared in it. I looked like the girl from Split... I even had scars on my wrist for some reason, I didn't have scars like that before.\n\n I remembered the wish and looked at my hand then clenched my fist. I felt pain going up my arm and when the claws came out I was screaming and holding my wrist, it hurt for a second longer and I got a few small drops of blood on the mirror but the claws were out so I looked at them. They shined with the light coming from my ceiling light, I looked at my other hand and feet and closed my eyes tight making all the other claws come out... I shed a tear and screamed in pain for a second. \n\n I was wearing ankle socks so the claws were going through them, I wondered why I was like this... female...so I wanted to look for answers. Making the claws go in hurt just as bad and I reacted the same... I thought I'd get used to it eventually though. The room I was in was kind of different, I still had game props and stuff like that but it was cleaner and there were no nerf guns made to look like \"Dead Space\" weapons. When I looked in the closet it was filled with clothes, jeans and skirts and stuff on a shelf, t-shirts on one side of the hanger part and flannel shirts and jackets on the other side. There were also a lot more shoes than the two I had before, maybe 12 but each one looked nice.\n\n I got on black and white leather converse with red laces, not too tight grey jeans with a tear in the left knee, a black Rolling Stones t-shirt, and a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I also had to get the stuff that went on under all that... it was awkward but I didn't look, I knew the actress I looked like was 20 something which was around how old I was before but I wasn't the actress right now and had one of those faces you couldn't tell the age of. Upon looking around the apartment more I found out I was 19 again which was only around 5 years younger so that was alright. \n\n That day I found out that I was a waitress with my parents living at a nice house while I got benefits for being a mutant which was weird. There were other mutants in this new world I was in and they weren't fully considered human... it was like those places the US owns but doesn't consider states. I couldn't vote and jobs didn't have to hire me since mutant rights weren't a thing yet... they were coming but not in yet, I could get benefits though so I had a monthly amount of money I had for my apartment. Anything else I had to get money from a job as a waitress... I wondered if the world changed around my wish or I just went to another universe. \n\n I basically looked online and I had unknowingly did a real spell... that could be done only once a year, I guess I didn't mind since I liked the powers... the body would take some getting used to but the powers were cool. It was strange that all the comics and movies existed though... I guess it was like what Logan said \"maybe a quarter of it happened... but not like this.\" Sorta like action movies with people but just fiction about mutants and super heroes... which none of those non mutant kind existed for real... though I think there was a guy trying to build an iron man suit.\n\n It was a few weeks in when I was walking alone to the Perkins near my house I worked at and it was night, I had to cover for some guy who didn't show up. A van pulled up and a big guy grabbed me and pulled me in the van, there were three guys and one had a gun while the other two had basically Rambo knives. I was at the back of the van and they were holding their weapons towards me, it was hard to stand with the car moving fast so I fell. While I was sliding back I put my claws through the floor to stay in place, at this point I had gotten used to it after training to not pay attention to the pain. \n\n When the van stopped after a while they tried to move me but I was still in the same place, they were confused but I jumped up and cut the guy with the guns neck... he was the one that tried to pull me just then. \"Come a little bit closer\" was playing on the radio when I kicked the second guy... down there... with the foot claw out. The man driving started driving again so I reached over and told him to stop while I had a claw to his throat, he just sped up and drove a while then stopped so I went through the windshield... he was in front of a gas station after all the driving. \n\n I stood up and people were looking at me as glass fell out of the closing wounds, I heard the engine rev and he tried to hit me so I jumped to the side and put the claws in the car on the side he was driving on. They cut the whole side of the car and when I looked there was blood on the edge of my claw, the people looked freaked out so I retracted them and I watched the car as it crashed into a telephone pole. There was a cop watching so he made me lay on the ground then his partner checked the car. They got my story and the drivers who had a good wound on his side. They believed me with all the kidnapping and... other supplies they had in the van so I wasn't charged with anything... lucky, since before there were cases where mutants got charged for defending themselves.\n\n It's been a month now and I'm used to it all... the body and everything, I spoke at the kidnapper's case and they even found out they kidnapped a ton of girls before. They hadn't kidnapped a mutant before though... the driver did survive and was charged with the other guys murders so he was gonna be away for a while. That was the good news... the bad news is people are afraid of me, I don't give a fuck though. The mutant laws passed and they tried to get me fired at the diner but so far I haven't done anything to be fired. \n\n Depending on how the year goes I may switch back or not... so far I want to stay cause I like the powers and I don't care if some people fear me. I can't drink for a few years but I'm fine with that too since I can't get drunk anyway. I can live with this all... probably."
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[removed] | [WP] | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\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/6e4vlx/wp/%0A%0A)\n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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[WP] 100 years after the collapse of society you are of the last knights of knowledge. You protect one of the core sources of power. 75 years ago your family was tasked with protecting Books! | 47 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"A pale sun rose in the east, its rays all but smothered by the dust that hung in the air as always. The light, still faintly orange, was barely enough to turn the dark, anonymous mass of the forest into a row of familiar trees. But soon Ibeya could make out the elongated shadow of the Gate against the ground, and it became time to admit to herself that another night had passed without the arrival of a messenger, like countless nights before it.\n\nAll night and her whole life she had been waiting for the messenger that her mother had promised, like she had promised so many things past, future and present - with absolute, almost religious conviction. That she herself had waited all her life and in vain for the messenger and the better future that his arrival would herald had not weakened her mother’s commitment at all. She had never missed a night’s watch for as long as Ibeya could remember. Ibeya's brother Kari, child of a moonless night, had been born in front of their house so his mother could keep an eye on the Gate.\n\nIbeya’s eyes were tired and burned a little but, accustomed to the time between dusk and dawn, she had not shut them even for one second. As usual, her incessant pacing had left a complex web of deep, dark lines in the red dirt that covered the road outside the small house at the edge of the woods. Sometimes her pacing led her almost to the Gate itself, but tonight she had stayed close to the house, reluctant to explore the darkness of a rainy, starless night. \n\nThe night had been as uneventful as it had been long, leaving Ibeya on the edge of frustration and with a faint yet familiar twinge of doubt lurking visibly from her sub-conscious. What bothered her most was that Kari was right again. Her brother had missed nearly all of his own night watches for many months now, forcing Ibeya to stay up night after night after fruitless night. Sometimes, when a storm raged, she was tempted to skip a watch, or at least watch the Gate from inside the house. But whenever she contemplated this, the memory of her mother became a strange and miserable kind of pain. And so Ibeya raged at her brother, even though she knew it was futile, accusing him of betraying the family. He sat silently, listening to her accusations, knowing she would, in the end, take his watch.\n\nIf she stopped yelling, or paused anyway, Kari would say there was no point in it all. He would try to sound calm and reasonable but Ibeya only saw and heard the spoilt child he had always been. Kari would tell her she was spending the night waiting for something that was but the loose end of one of their mother's dreams, haunting them even after she herself had passed. If she hadn’t stormed out by this point, he would quietly add that they had no way of knowing whether their mother’s stories were just stories, like the other people in town said. That it was reasonable to assume that the past was just like the present, dreary and simple and hard, and not the wonderful world of palaces that their mother whose existence a mere hundred years ago her mother had promised them so insistently.\n\nWhen they found the time to talk calmly about these things, Kari would say that the days themselves were long and hard, and that they both needed a good night’s sleep to get through them. After all, the fields would not till themselves, and only the strong arms of a well-rested, well-fed man could bludgeon the well into giving up what little precious water remained in the ground. Although he never said it, Ibeya knew that he wanted her to help more. She knew very well that all the work he did fed them reasonably well, but as long as she did not do her full share of work they would never be able to do more, despite the large plot her mother had left them. She could see in the way Kari looked at the barren field that his dreams revolved around planting a little more food and becoming a prosperous farmers. Compared to her mother’s dreams of rebuilding the glorious past, Kari’s dreams were small, but at least he was surrounded by hundreds of people sharing the same small, practical dream. Ibeya was all alone holding on to her mother’s implausibly large and lonely alternative. Kari thought of the past as something that would always be there, a depressing tale of riches that were so distant and unattainable that they might as well be fantasy. Tomorrow, on the other hand, would certainly be real, and if it was going to involve at least a little bit of food and drink then a series of specific tasks had to be completed today, while the sun shone – if you could call that pathetic light sunshine. It was a mystery to Ibeya exactly how her brother had inherited this intensely practical streak from their ethereal mother and the series of more or less insubstantial father figures – if you could call them that – that had marked the passage of their childhood and adolescence. \n\nSometimes Ibeya thought Kari was right. There was a kind of comfort in giving up, in the thought of joining the living in their very real present, and abandoning the distant past and promised future along with the memories of their mother and her tales. The messenger had not come, not once in their mother’s long lifetime, so it probably would not come to them either. \n\nMuch as she resented his refusal to share the watch with her at the end of a long night, Ibeya smiled at the thought of her brother’s firm attachment to all the things that she, almost as much as her mother, regarded as banalities. They were the Knights of Knowledge, Guardians of the Library, Keepers of Books. One of the chosen families. What difference did it make that the village elder should be this woman or that man. That her mother had never really been able to explain to them what a book was bothered Kari but not, for the most part, Ibeya, who marvelled at the mystery. Whatever they were, they had to be truly magical to fit into the tiny box her mother had entrusted them with.\n\nAs she sat down at the table in their tiny living room to eat the meal that Kari had left her, Ibeya held the box in her hand, turning it this way and that, as she often did. The size of her hand, rectangular and perfectly black apart from the scratches that covered every bit of its surface, it could not be opened. There was one tiny, silver gap on the side of rectangle, which had tiny teeth in it. A word had once been inscribed on it, but the letters had faded under the many scratches, leaving only a faint SUNG slightly to the right of the centre and a small but almost unscathed 100TB on what Ibeya thought was the back of the box. \n\nAs far as they knew, the box did not do anything, but Ibeya did not doubt her mother’s promise that it held all the lost world’s knowledge, and that one day a messenger would come to collect both the box and its owner, to take them to the last great city, from where the tiny box would be the beginning of an unimaginable future. \n\nAfter she finished eating, with her eyelids heavy as lead, Ibeya climbed into the attic and into her bed. Behind the curtain, she could hear Kari’s faint snore. She wrapped herself tightly into her blanket, the box tied securely to the inside of her thigh like her mother had shown her, and fell asleep instantly.",
"Rodran leaned back in his chair, his feet propped comfortably on the table, reading an old *Hardy Boys*. It was not nearly as fulfilling a read as some of the other classics, but Rodran was running out fiction he had not read at least once before. Plus, it was kind of quaint, how these little mysteries were considered 'adventures' back in the day. Back before the war of his great grandparent's day, which transformed the world to its current state.\n\nThe manors and estates that the Hardy Boys had frequented in their adventures were no more. Rodran's library was a testament to that. Cement walls in some places, others wood and brick were they had to be patched and re-patched after raids, furnishings that were old and worn, decayed practically to the point of losing its function. No one made things anymore, no one Rodran had ever met, at least. They just took from the scraps that remained of the old world, and those scraps broke down over time. Soon there would be nothing left.\n\nIt was ironic twist that at least a dozen books in Rodran's library could have told him how to make a new chair out of the wooden scraps, a new desk and dresser, perhaps a more comfortable bed. No one ever came for those books, though. And Rodran had more important duties to attend to. He had to maintain his wariness, and his skill, to protect this place. That was a full time job that allowed no other hobbies. Besides reading the occasional adventure book, anyway.\n\nHe perked up when a noise alerted him that he may need to fulfill one of those duties soon. The gravel on all sides of the library had been crushed into coarse rocks; even the stealthiest of thieves who tried to step across it would end up crunching a few and making a sound. Rodran put down his book and rose.\n\nRodran stood a full six and a half feet tall and possessed a sturdy frame, an imposing image made all the more impressive by the thick plates of armor he wore. Unlike everything else in the library, the armor shined as if it was brand new. As it should, as one of Rodran's sacred duties was the care of his armor. As was his sword, currently in its sheath and propped up against the desk. Rodran had read books about the knights of old times, in their sparkling mail and wielding their long lances, those whom his order had based themselves off of. Of course, he looked like a shallow imitation compared to the originals, his armor a few interwoven plates of steel to protect vital areas of his body as opposed to a full knightly suit, but he still considered them his kin. Picking up his sword, he quickly strode to the front of the building, towards the only entry.\n\nWell, the only entry unless the invaders decided to make a new one through one of the walls. But he would deal with that if the time came.\n\nThe sound of crunching gravel grew louder as the outsiders approached. Rodran estimated by the noise that there were four of them, and none of them tried to be stealthy. He walked a few steps to where a pair of binoculars were affixed to a small gap in the wall and examined the approach. If they appeared non-hostile, he would greet them and offer them shelter, as the code of his order dictated. Unfortunately, that did not seem to be the case. Three men walked towards the door with weapons drawn. One wielded a sword, not unlike Rodran's own, though likely in worse condition. The other had a more common weapon of the wasteland, a large bat with nails drilled into for added savagery.\n\nThe third would be the most dangerous. He had a weapon of the old world, an assault rifle, a deadly weapon capable of laying down a dozen knights. Rodran's armor offered him a considerable degree of protection against blades and clubs, but that gun would tear through it like paper. He had seen it happen before.\n\nThe last of the group was a small, hooded figure, who kept a good distance behind the others. Probably the leader of this band. And one with some amount of wealth, or what passed for wealth in the wastelands, if he was able to afford a rifle. Like all things made in the old world, the weapons had worn down over the years, many of them to a point that no amount of repair would get them working again. By Rodran's father's time, the fact that the order preferred to use swords for their duties no longer seemed a strange thing.\n\nThough Rodran was more than prepared to engage in a firefight if he had to. Tucked into a compartment on the rear of his armor was a small pistol, one that he performed meticulous upkeep on to ensure it would work should he need it. It was for emergencies only, though. He possessed a very limited supply of ammunition for the thing. Plus, using such a weapon seemed dishonorable and cowardly.\n\nHe stood to the side of the door and listened as the outsiders approached. Pressing his back against the wall, he controlled his breathing and brought himself into his warrior calm. They came with weapons drawn, and now he had a duty to fulfill.\n\nThe door burst open and the man with the assault rifle came in. He swept the room left to right, aiming down the barrel of his rifle, ready to fire at anything that moved. But he did not expect Rodran, right beside the door and in his blind spot. Rodran's sword was out of its sheath in the same smooth motion that brought it slashing across the invader's hand. The man screamed and somehow kept a hold of gun, but the angle of the barrel tipped far upwards and a few futile shots were fired into the library's ceiling. Rodran's blade flash again before the invader could react and pierced him deep in the shoulder. This time the man dropped the rifle, then slumped to the ground, clutching shoulder.\n\nThe other two were on Rodran by then, having charged to their wounded ally's aid. Rodran easily parried the sword swing of the first, then cut across to catch the bat a moment before it would have struck his head. The blade caught in between two of the nails sticking out of the bat, and with a twist Rodran was able to lock the blade in place. He gave a great tug and the bat went flying out of the invader's hand. The maneuver left Rodran's sword out of position, so he had to bring his armored shoulder in front of his to deflect the next sword strike aimed his way. The impact of the strike strung and caused his shoulder to go partially numb but the blade itself did not pierce through.\n\nRodran brought his sword back around in time to parry the next strike, and then the next. It became clear that whoever this was he was facing was no novice with the weapon, no minor bandit who simply chanced upon the blade. He had obviously practiced and knew some basic forms. However, he was nowhere near Rodran's equal. With a couple of precision strikes Rodran got around his opponent's defenses and scored vertical strikes on his chest. They were not deep, but were enough to cause him to stumble back. Rodran took the advantage to cut across once again, slicing his opponent's sword arm and causing him to drop the blade.\n\nHe saw movement below him and quickly brought his foot down to stomp on the hand of the former bat-wielder, who had made a dive for the rifle. The man cried out and struggled to free his hand, but only for the moment before the hilt of Rodran's sword impacted with his face and knocked him senseless.\n\n“That's enough!” a woman's voice called out. Rodran turned to the door to the see the final figure had entered into the library. The hood was down now, revealing a young woman with dirty red hair and a road weary face. She was pointing a pistol at him, and holding it steady enough that Rodran knew that she would likely only need one shot to end this.\n\nRodran slowly backed away from the invaders and dropped his sword's tip into the ground. He knew she had him dead-to-rights, and there was no way he could get to his own gun in time if she decided to fire.\n\n“Who are you?” the woman demanded.\n\n“I am Rodran Mariach, Knight of Knowledge, Protector of the Books,” he answered in an unwavering tone.\n\nThe woman's eyes went wide and she shook her head in disbelief. “That's impossible. All the Knights were killed in a raid ten years ago.”\n\n“Not all of them,” Rodran replied firmly. “I am all that remains.”\n\nThe woman shook her head again and holstered her weapon. “I'd say I doubt your story, if you hadn't just bested three of the best bodyguards to be found for a hundred miles around while hardly breaking a sweat.” She held her hands up and at her side and dipped her head low, a common wasteland sign of friendship and peace. “I apologize for our rude entrance. Our information is obviously lacking. I am Ariana Cadderly, and these are my bodyguards and traveling companions. We thought for sure bandits would have taken up in this place, as it was seemingly whole, and you can find bandits in every dark hole on this road. I never expected to find a Mariach still guarding this place.”\n\n“If you thought such, then why did you come?”\n\nShe looked into the library. “I seek a book, one that I hoped might have survived any looting this place had endured over the years. Truth be told, I felt there was little chance of success, but seeing you here, I have renewed hope.”\n\nRodran gave the woman a firm look, but saw no reason to doubt the story. She could have killed him if she had wanted to, but she had put her weapon away and given him the advantage. He nodded at her. “Tell me which book it is you are seeking and I will retrieve it for you. You may read it so long as you remain here, and take notes from it if you have brought your own paper. The book does not leave the building. Rooms will be made available for you if you intend to stay several days.”\n\nAriana's face brightened. “Thank you, Master Rodran. Your hospitality is most generous, and we are most undeserving, given our entrance.”\n\nContinued in reply because of post length ------->",
"\"Our cause is just!\"\n\n\"Your cause is foolish.\"\n\nMy father stood on the brink, sword in hand, fending off the Crow. That dark man clothed in tattered black robes advanced on my father, sword raised at throat level.\n\n\"We've surpassed the need for your archaic wisdom,\" the Crow said. \"Everything we need to know can be found in the world around us. The will to live, the need to survive. You would clutter our mind with the foolish words of dead men.\"\n\nMy father knocked the Crow's sword aside and moved away from the edge.\n\n\"Only a fool is unaware of his own ignorance. The knowledge in those books will save mankind. We will rise from the ashes! We will-\"\n\nThe Crow ducked quickly, almost too fast too see, and swiped my father's legs out from under him. Then he was upon him, beating him with his brass-laden fists. I was transfixed to the horrible image of my father's face turning to pulp. I hid in fear; I obeyed my father's command to stay put.\n\nThe Crow got up off my father and spit on him. He raised his arms and looked skyward as if to challenge the heavens. \n\n\"You see what your books bring you? In a moment your mind will end, and with it the precious words you have wasted your life reading. I will survive.\"\n\nHe dragged my father to the edge and pushed him over. I watched him fall. I didn't see him land. The Crow spat over the edge and descended the cliff.\n\n---\n\nEvery day I trained with the image of my father's death near at hand. I thought about the Crow's words - and ever did I read, refuting his words the only way I knew how. I would grow my knowledge, and my skill as a swordsman, and I would kill that bastard who discarded my father as if his life meant nothing. \n\nWe kept the books in a tower that rose to the heavens, narrow and high. Defense was only required at ground level. It was a long time ago that man lost the ability to fly, to attack from above. Our books rise toward the eternity that they would reveal, a Tower of Babylon that god will not render to rubble. There is no god. No god would abide a world like this.\n\nImagine a room one hundred feet across, a perfect circle. All along the walls are bookshelves that rise ever upward. A staircase winds along the bookcases all the way up, and stops off at each level where there is a platform that encircles the tower. There are hundreds of such levels.\n\nA fire would not take hold - the books are spread too thin. The room is too wide. There is no way to get to the top but to climb. The books are are arranged so that the most important ones are at the top. Even if our walls were breached, we would have a long time to stop them before they reached the Bible, the Quran, the philosophical treatises, the works of Locke, Hume, Nietzsche, Freud, the historical texts, the writings of the Greeks and Romans. It is my life to protect the knowledge bound in these pages. It is my duty to ensure the survival of books for what race may rise from the ashes of our foolish kind.\n\n---\n\nThe day has come to slay the Crow. I approach his slimy cavern, the dark depths where he wallows in pleasure and simple-mindedness with those he attracted to his eternal ignorance. I call for him. He appears in the mouth of the many caves that are like spider eyes on the hillside. His hordes appear behind him.\n\nWe meet in glorious battle like the epic tales of old. Our forces are well-met, but mine are disciplined, well-trained, precise. The Crow's army attacks by flailing, they advance by furious chaos. Our ranks hold firm.\n\nA noise from behind - an ambush. More of his filthy beasts descend on us from the forest, attacking our rear guard. This won't end well. I command the men to split and defend from both sides, but they are closing on our center. My men are falling too rapidly. I must cut the head off this beast before we die.\n\nI fight through the men, climb over the bodies, slipping in blood, until I am upon the Crow. Our eyes meet and he knows who I am.\n\nWe fight in the center of the chaos, metal clanging and men's voices clamoring around us. I don't notice when my last man falls. I don't see that I am surrounded by the hordes of ignorance who wait for their chief to kill me.\n\nHe lands a blow on my shoulder and my arm ceases to function. I stumble back and switch my sword to my other hand. The Crow advances, towering, black boots stepping indifferently over mangled bodies.\n\n\"Foolish boy,\" he says. \"You didn't learn, did you? A great...*irony*. Is that the word? It doesn't matter. You see that, don't you?\"\n\n\"You will never win,\" I retort. \"The light of knowledge will burn through the ages like a beacon. The books of old will rise to prominence, our children will...\"\n\nHis sword is through my stomach, it burns. \n\n\"I thought he'd never shut up,\" the Crow says. Laughter erupts from the horde.\n\nThe Crow kneels in front of me and rests his hand on the sword that impales me.\n\n\"I'm going to burn every last book in that precious tower of yours. And the world will finally be rid of your filth.\"\n\nHe stared into my eyes and twisted the sword. The pain spiked, then dulled, as the world became dark and the sound came to my ears in quieter waves, and as my last thoughts sputtered and flickered I remembered my son, and thought that he must... must...\n\n&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\n\n---\n\nSubscribe to /r/xilead for more"
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[WP] After a successful interview it's time for your first day as a god | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"¨Welcome Jared! Are you ready to start your first day!¨ She said. \n\n¨Sure am!¨ I said enthusiastically. Today was my first day working to get the humans back on track! This was actually the first time in the history of gods that they opened applications for humans who'd completed their lives on Earth. The prior gods were all beings from higher dimensions who of course felt they could properly direct humanity due to their superior knowledge of the universe. But when it comes to humans I can use this analogy I saw in a meme during one of my Earth lifetimes. ¨When you're playing chess with a pigeon, It doesn't matter if you win because regardless the pigeon is going to quack and shit all over the board¨ So the key then is not to outsmart the pigeon, but think like the pigeon. And this mindset is what got me the job.\n\n¨This will be your headquarters¨She said. ¨Archangel Michael and Uriel will both be here as your left and right hands to guide you through the basic processes¨\n\nI greeted my new generals and immediately asked to be left alone. I now needed to think. You see, the key idea is to save as much as humanity as you can, and bring them to the higher realms. Before humanity was a race, it was a single being that had reached the final realm of existence. For instance, it could have been at one point a race similar to humans. A unique identity. But the higher you go in the realms, the less you become of an individual. And the final choice to either enter pure nothingness and be without a consciousness. Make up the particles that us individuals play with, or... Take up a new responsibility to deliver more individuals to the final realm. Which can be done through birthing yourself as a new race. But of course not all the humans can make it to the final realm. However, all you need is that 2 make it, and you've doubled the number of beings that have achieved nothingness! So my job is to help as much of humanity pass this realm. Then it's up to someone else to deal with their shit.\n\n¨Michael! Come Here!¨ I yelled.\n\n¨Yes your holiness?¨ \n\n¨I want you to send humanity into chaos. Plague the food, destroy their current progressions with technology, and leave them to figure it out for themselves.¨\n\nMichael's face looked ill, which is odd seeing as he's immortal. \n\n¨I cannot do that my holiness¨ He replied.\n\n¨Michael, I am your God, and you will obey me¨ And he did. And for the next 40 years humanity suffered. But the goal here wasn't to have them suffer. It was to let the evil kill off the evil and the good help out the good. And in the event that the knowledge of how we should treat each other and ourselves remained. We would have a better humanity. If not, It would be like the last few times we tried this. But oh well, go big or go home!\n",
"\"So, this is your desk.\" She said, gesturing at the flimsy office chair sitting next to a large table divided into smaller sections. \"If you need anything or have any questions you can drop by my office down the hall, okay?\" \n\nNodding silently at her as she walked off, Clive took a seat and relaxed his body for the first time in what felt like days. He actually made it.\n\n\"Seems nice doesn't it?\" A voice said just as he closed his eyes. \"Don't worry though, shit won't last.\" \n\nStartling awake he turned to look at the woman next to him from whom the voice had originated. She was sketching out the design for some sort of cone shaped tower and looked so completely absorbed in his work that at first, Clive thought he was mistaken. But then she continued.\n\n\"Only seen the boss smile two times: the day I got here, and just now.\" She finally turned to look at him, impossibly dark eyes boring into his soul. \"And I've been here a while. So you can take that as you will.\" \n\n\"Uhm, I'm sorry,\" Clive said, still caught a bit off guard by the whole conversation. \"Do I know you or something?\" \n\nShe laughed, a loud cracking noise with a slight hint of tonality. \"Gods no, I'm just glad I'm not the bottom dog anymore.\" Smiling widely, she stretched out her arm for him to take. \"I'm Ellie,\" As he reached out to shake her hand a jolt of electricity jumped between them, stinging his fingertips. \"Goddess of electricity.\" \n\n\"Cool party trick,\" Clive mumbled under his breath, before retracting and slightly nursing his hand. \"I'm sure you are very popular at birthday parties.\" \n\n\"Ouch,\" She responded, wincing slightly. \"You're alright...\" She gestured at him and he told her his name. \"*Clive*, but you just watch. In a few hundred years I'll have more followers than you could ever dream of.\"\n\nThey laughed at that before she continued. \"So, what you got Clive? God of mud? God of sandals?\"\n\nHe beamed up slightly at that, smiling triumphantly at her. \"Hah, you wish. Kneel before the new god of the skies!\" He declared grandly.\n\nEllie looked dumbfounded for about a second before cracking up with laughter. Eventually, she managed to speak through the tears running down her cheek.\n\n\"Oh, my poor stomach.\" She wiped her face with her hand. \"You got cloud duty buddy, bottom of the barrel.\" \n\nShe laughed some more as Clive considered what she had just said. \"Cloud duty?\" He asked \"What does that mean?\" \n\n\"The sky is fucking empty Clive,\" She said, having gathered herself slightly. \"All there is to do is watch birds and draw in the clouds. Only reason you got this job is probably because the last guy either quit or drew very graphic imagery.\"\n\nClive leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling panels. Drawing clouds? Was that the god he would be?\n\nHaving calmed down, Ellie looked over and saw him staring off into the nonexistent distance. Taking a more serious tone, she placed a hand on his shoulder. \n\n\"Hey,\" She said in a comforting voice. \"Don't sweat it man, I'm sure you'll draw the best damn clouds they've ever seen.\" Grinning at him again she continued. \"Besides, maybe one day they will fly on electric wings in the sky and we can both laugh at the people who doubted us.\"\n\nSmiling back at her, he nodded, she nodded back, and they both went back to work. Among the drawings of clouds in different shapes and sizes there was one thing much larger than a bird that flew among them, and Clive smiled when he thought about it.\n"
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"1496163191",
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[WP] Most wizards learn an arsenal of spells for any occasion, you on the other hand only know one. | 8 | [
"The lasting sting isn't so bad I guess compared to the odd taste of blood pooling in my lip. I'm not quite sure how you describe it, it has a definite unique taste. Then again there is this blunt pain coming again, really he has quite the good strike, though by all means I'm rathering he continue using his fist as opposed to say a fireball.\n\n\"You know, it's sad, to think that I have to call you a wizard like myself. You're pathetic, you're no wizard, you're a failed attempt.\" He's been spewing that stupid line over and over, with his stupidly annoying voice.\n\n\"You know you can't definitively say whether or not someone is or is not something unless you truly understand what something really is and isn't yourself.\" Wow, that sounded better before I said it. What pisses me off more is that the look on his face matches the way I feel about what I just said. \"Look I am a wizard, just because I only know one spell does not make me not a wizard. Knowing and being able to cast a spell makes you a wizard, besides every spell has a million and one uses you just have to master the spell.\"\n There it is again that blunt strike, he's gotten that down quite good apparently. He opened his mouth again and I could tell he wanted to speak so I figured I'd do so first, save myself that annoying voice. \n\"Hey at this point I think you should all be impressed I can talk this much with all this blood in my mouth.\" And again, you know I think I've decided. I think the feeling, the pain, right after his fist connects with my jaw, I think that's worse than the blood taste. I spit a large glob of blood out and it spattered across the floor, it was beginning to overflow a bit.\n\nHonestly I was getting quite bored, just badgering and repeated hits to the face; Jackass's annoying voice and worse is probably the guy just standing in the corner, staring, he's just creepy. I guess that means it's time to leave, hospitality here sucks and well time to find some entertainment. Creating a small pulse under the shackles my binds quickly exploded off. With a simple blast aimed toward the floor I got myself up to my feet. The fools in my cell were simple game using two simultaneous blasts behind them they flew into each other. Turning my hands to the cell door it quickly bent and crumbled beneath the pressure of my blast. Granted it was a bit awkward to step around, it just looked so much cooler being blown off it hinges.\n\nThe sound however did attract a lot of attention. A few too many to count, well to hard to count really, they were all bunched up filling the hall before me. I could feel my lips pull into a smile overcome with excitement, this is what I live for. \"Let's start this dance.\"\n\nGiving a large pulse behind myself I launched forward, one of my favorite tricks feels like I'm flying. The first attack was quick a small bolt of lightning, easily dealt with a small pulse from the side dodging me around it. I landed within grabbing distance and let out a massive shockwave toppling my enemies. Another bolt, this time I raised one foot and used a small multidirectional pulse under my planted foot spinning me around just barely avoiding the attack. Following up I placed my raised foot on the ground in front and spun around quickly raising my other foot and dropping it, heel down, quickly. I sent out a shockwave following my foot crushing the already toppled group. The ones at the back not toppled were now fiercely throwing spells, fireballs, ice spikes, arcane missiles; I quickly danced around them with spinning pulses and small powerful blasts from my hands to act as force fields to block.\nRealizing the urgency to end this fight I leapt forward again flying with a pulse. I grabbed the faces of two men on my way by and slammed them to the ground. I had perfectly placed myself in the center of the group. I could feel the twitching of my hands- pressed hard against those unfortunate men's faces- getting stronger, god I enjoyed this. Taking advantage of the surprise I caused I took a moment to prepare before releasing a massive pulse tossing my adversaries away like dolls and cracking the stone walls.\n\n\"Then I rose, standing tall amongst the broken bodies victorious. I had won...all while narrating it like a badass in my head.\" One of the men let out a wheezing cough and struggled to get up. \"Shit which one of you is still conscious? I just said that last bit out loud.\"\n\n The man stood bracing against the wall, his knees were shaking under the pressure of standing. I made way over to him and placed a hand on the wall by his head.\n\n\"A wizard is measured by what they can do with magic. I am from a school of the mono mastery, we master one spell. Pretty much every spell has infinite uses and we master our spell, mine is Force Push. I am a wizard, far more powerful and knowledgeable of magic than you lot.\" I told him this making sure he'd relay it's meaning before planting a fist enveloped in a pulse into his gut rendering him unconscious. After i watched him slump to the ground I continued to make my way out of the damp musky dungeon and toward my next bit of hopeful fun.",
"Sure, you could say that I shouldn't even be considered a wizard but I can't ignore that the magic runs through my veins from the moment I was brought into this world. Everyone that I know has learned and mastered over 30 spells. Hell, even fifteen year old kids know more. Me? I know know one.\n\nI'm a rare mage, you see? I can only control a spell. There is only one of us every few hundreds of years or when the gods think the earth is in danger. The last known mage with this power stopped battled the self-proclaimed mage-god 'Keljú', a powerful, ancient mage with over a hundred years of wisdom. He used to be a messenger for the gods before he turned his back on mankind and started gathering followers to join his 'world domination' dream.\n\nNow, you may be asking: \"How did a guy with just a spell manage to take down a self-proclaimed insane mage-god?\". Well, the spell we control is extremely powerful but deadly. It will kill the caster when it's cast. For mages, it takes away their power forever. For normal humans? It gives them power. That's why we're the secret weapon from the gods. \"Why are you telling me all of this?\" is what you're thinking. The reason is simple: This isn't one of those random times. There's two wizards out there battling each other, destroying cities and even countries. Hell, even Keljú was an apprentice compared to them. So, for the first time, the gods granted someone not one, but two souls. Once one dies, the other takes over the body so the task can be complete. Of course, the person will still have the same thoughts and memories, but different personalities. The gods deliberately chose another soul similar to mine, so they'd make sure we didn't turn against them.\n\nUnfortunately for me, I won't have much to live. I'm only 25 and a messenger came in today and asked me to grab his arm, and so I did. We were teleported into the sacred temple of the gods. There were only two gods. Most of them died due to the Chosens turning on them. Nowadays, they were more cautions. The God King, Jatrem, spoke:\n\n -Ah, thank you for bringing Denutor, messenger. - He said, dismissing him. - Now, you knew the day would come. The wizards have gotten too powerful and need to be stopped.\n\n -Of course, sir. - I responded. - I'll deal with them right away. But, before I go, may I get some sort of weapons? The only magic I have is unusable and I'll have no way of defending myself on my way there.\n\nThe God of battle and wisdom, Gar'thûm, turned to Jatrem and both started whispering in a language unknown to mortals. They were cautious.\nLong minutes had passed before the God King turned to me and nodded. I was given an enchanted short sword, with the power to dissipate magic and even go through all sorts of magical shields. Powerful. They also offered me a companion. He was immortal but he couldn't attack. He was only useful to keep me company, they said. I accepted their offer and a dog appeared before me.\n\n -Now go, my child. Fulfill your destiny and do what you must. - They ordered, teleporting me back to my home. \n\nI'm ready.\n\n(I'm too tired to write more [currently 3 am where I live]. If this gets a positive response, I will write the rest.)"
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[wp] "grandpa, tell me about world war 3" | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"“Pepere, will you tell me about the war?” \n \n“ Jonathan! I told you not to bother your grandfather with that,” Jonathon’s mother says from the dining room.\n \n“But, Mom... I just want to know, Pepere. did you kill anybody?”\n \n“ Jonathan, if you do not stop it, you are getting a time out.”\n\n“John,” his grandfather says.\n \n Little Jonathan looks at his grandfather.\n \n “Come over here,” his grandfather says while he pats his knee.\n \nJonathan obliges, feeling a little too old to to be still sitting on his grandfather’s knee. \n \n“So you want to know about the war, huh?”\n\nJonathan nods his head. \n\n“Dad, don’t tell him about that stuff. He’ll have nightmares.”\n \n“Hush up, Monique. You're not going to have nightmares, are you?”\n \n“Nuh uh, Pepere.”\n\nJonathan's grandfather laughs. “Well, you're better man than me. I still have nightmares. Even now, 30 years later, it's like I'm still out there.”\n \n“Was it scary, Pepere?”\n \n“How old are you, Johnny?”\n \n“Five.”\n \n“ Five years old, huh? wow. I was twelve when the war started. Just seven years older than you are now. And how old is your little brother?”\n \n“One and a half.”\n \n“Well, you probably don't know this but I had two older brothers back then. One was 4 years older than me and the other was 2 years older than me. As soon as they were able, they both joined so they could go fight in the war.”\n \n“So they could go kill the bad guys?”\n\n“Yeah, the bad guys. So my oldest brother, Brad, he joined in ‘25. and my other brother, Ferdinand, he joined in ‘27. In ‘29, My oldest brother was killed just a month before he was supposed to come back home for good and a few months later, my other brother died in an explosion.”\n \n“I’m sorry, Pepere.”\n \n“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. Now I was in college at the time and your great-grandparents, my parents, they they me swear I wouldn’t go to war. Because they didn't want to lose the only son they had left to this damn war. And I told them what they wanted to hear but a week later, I enlisted. I was determined to get back at the people who killed my brothers. I was going to make them pay.\n \n“And did you, Pepere? Did you make them pay?”\n \n“ You asked me earlier if I had killed anyone. When you're young like you are now, it's easy to put people in categories. Those are the bad people. We're the good people and we're going to make the bad people pay.” \n \n“So they weren’t bad people?”\n \n“That's just it, Johnny.” His grandfather’s eyes start to water. “I don't know. I don't know anything about them. They put me in a plane, dropped me halfway around the world, and said that they were my enemy. So I did what I needed to do.” Tears starts to fall from his grandfather’s eyes.\n \n“I’m sorry, Pepere.” Jonathan gives his grandpa a hug but his mind is elsewhere.\n\n“I still see their faces at night. All the men that I...” Jonathan's grandfather is bawling now.\n \nMonique walks over. “Dad, maybe you should go lie down. Dinner won’t be ready for at least another hour.”\n\n“Okay, maybe you’re right.” Jonathan's grandfather turns to him. “Jonathan.”\n \n“Yes, Pepere?”\n\n“Promise me you won’t do what I did.”\n\n“I promise, Pepere.”\n\n“You promise?”\n\n“Yes, Pepere.”\n\n“Okay, Dad. I’ll take over here,” Monique says as she scoots Jonathan off of his grandfather’s lap.\n\nGrandpa wipes the tears from his eyes and stands up. “Okay, I’m gonna go lie down.” He kisses his daughter on the cheek. “I love you, sweetie.”\n \n“Love you too, Dad.”\n\nMonique and Jonathan watch Grandpa walk off and head into his bedroom.\n\n\n \n \n \n \n \n",
" \"Where did you fight in the war, Pap-pap?\" \n \"Well now, lets see,\" I said, looking down at my youngest grandson. \"I was sent to Kiev right after I got my commission in '17, then the Russians beat us back to Warsaw. When my command decided Poland was a lost cause we were sent to reinforce the Germans. Then my regiment was pulled to Paris to hold the city. I was there when the Eiffel Tower fell in '21. And then in '23 I was on one of the last choppers out of London. I saw them hang the red flags from the Palace of Westminster. That was when they killed the royal family.\" \n \"Where else?\" Georgie asked, excitement flashing in his big brown eyes. He had heard all of this many times before, but he loved hearing it all the same. \n \"Well, by that time I was a lieutenant so I still did actual fighting. So me and my men were there at the Battle of Virginia Beach. And we held the red suckers back!\"\n That was their first real taste of defeat. Seven long years of fighting and being driven back until the bastards tried to come onto American soil. I don't think they realized we had pulled all of our troops out of Europe the second it was clear they were coming to our homeland. They hit a wall that day. \n \"Wow, Pap-pap! You must have fought hard!\"\n \"We did, my boy,\" I chuckled. \"We fought for two weeks straight and then held the beach for another month.\" \n The guys on the Western Front hadn't had to pull back to California yet. They were still holding the North Koreans pretty good. Old Kim Jong Un was apparently furious that he still couldn't make it past the U.S. Navy after seven years. But Russia was another beast entirely. They were many and well trained. When they decided they were done being nice, the rest of Europe didn't stand much chance. We prevailed because of the long distance from their mother land, and because they thought it would be a good idea to try to invade during the summer of '24. One of the hottest summers America ever recorded. Russians don't do well in extreme heat and humidity. But us East Coasters grew up in it. \n \"Pap-pap? Were you scared?\" \n \"Terrified, my boy,\" I said matter of factly. \n \"But you were the leader! How could you fight if you were scared?\"\n \"I'll put it to you like this. Do you love your brother and sister?\"\n \"Yes\"\n \"Well, all of the Americans fighting on the beaches were my brothers and sisters. I loved each and every one of them. So even though I was scared, I still fought and led them because I wanted to protect them.\" Georgie was now lost in thought, looking at his shoes. Weirdly colored and shaped, they were the product of '60s fashion. The fashion today was a little reminiscent of the style that was around when I was born. He then looked at the eagle and trident tattooed on my arm. Then at the initials underneath. \n \"Are these people that died, Pap-pap?\"\n \"They are, Georgie. But now it's time for dinner. I'll tell you more after.\" I still had a hard time talking about them. I could still hear them dying, forty five years later. Every night, I watch it happen. Four of my brothers. Dead because of my mistake. While I live comfortably off of my pension in Maryland, their bodies have rotted to nothing in unmarked graves outside of Moscow. Cut down by the presidential guard. \n We may have ended the war that day, but they never got to come home. "
] | [
1,
1,
1
] | [
"1496196422",
"1496209370",
"1496233784"
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[WP] One day, this suffering will be art | 5 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"The pain was all too familiar at this point. Every night it returned, whether I was graced with the company of a friend or not. At this point, my only friend seemed to be the sweet embrace of alcohol, sleep, xanax, or whatever other device could momentarily put me out of this ocean of misery I dive deeper into everyday. The deeper and deeper I swim, the more the salty, bitter water stings, and while I feel as if I will drown, my oxygen tank somehow always keeps me alive with one sliver of air. The atrocities I have committed are unparalleled, and most who know me do not even know half of them. I have caused the people I care about such great pain, to the point they do not even care about me anymore. The smiles are forced, the image of happiness I keep up the acting performance of a century. I was chosen to suffer from the beginning, but I brought most of it onto myself. From a peers viewpoint, I am just another ugly, selfish, faux deep douchebag, but if they went through life being me, they would understand the tortured soul I truly am. If god were to take me away today, I would just want my suffering to be an inspiration to anyone feeling similar to me, someone who is hurting in a way that most people will not understand in their whole lifetime.",
"They set me on the bridge.\n\nThey wait.\n\nTheir gaze feels heavy, ponderous with anticipation.\n\nThey wait.\n\nThey gave me the motive.\n\nThe gave me the means.\n\nThey roll the camera.\n\nThey livestream the feed.\n\nAnd they wait.\n\nA whispered voice in my ear.\n\nYou are nothing. You were nothing.\n\nBut one day your suffering will be art.\n\nDo you want to be immortal?\n\nThey wait, and I do not dissapoint."
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"1496198583",
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Credit to /u/eviebutts and their comment in /r/iamverysmart
Link here:https://www.reddit.com/r/iamverysmart/comments/6e7g4r/comment/di8omrw | [WP] The world has finally run out of idiots. Unfortunately, it's right when we needed idiots the most. | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Star date 2400\n\nYou know how natural selection works? The whole survival of the fittest and removal of poor genes and advancement of a species through evolution. Well it happened humans finally evolved. Our intellect continued to increase so far that even compared to the genius humans of the past our average person is on par if not superior.\n\nThe problem with that is that as our intelligence grew, so did our self-preservation instincts. They grew to the point that our desire to survive as individuals out weighed our ability to sacrifice for the good of the whole. Intelligence made us selfish and ignorant. Worst of all it made us cowards. \n\nThe asteroid was going to crash into the earth and there would be no survivors. We had long ago moved away from rocket based weaponry. In fact we had moved away from weaponry in general as a species we knew that killing another to get ahead never resulted in an advantage for anyone. Just a wasted life behind bars and another lost before its time , so we had no way to change its course from a remote location. \n\nWe we're ready to move on to a new planet, We had the technology. But everyone knew the odds of making it on to the ship that would take us to mars or whatever world we decided on. As a result nobody wanted to provide the resources, man-power, or time to build the transport. Everyone wanted a guaranteed spot for having a hand in building the ship. If you included there families it quickly became impossible for a ship to even come close to the size required and escape earths gravity. \n\nOur final option was a manned mission. We could of sent a much smaller rocket to drill into the asteroid and fire its rockets to shift its trajectory just enough to miss the planet. this came with an exceptionally low survivability prediction. So low that no one even considered being the individual to go. \n\nSo to any living species that comes across this message. Our people have long rejoined the stars. We have become one with nature, once again stardust. Intelligence is amazing and powerful. But intelligence is useless without the heart to act on it. My people regarded courage as a fools trait and so we worked it out of the gene pool. When we needed courage the most there was none to be found. A whole race, a whole living planet lost to the idea that courage made you an idiot. Pick up where we left off, but correct our mistakes and grow.\n\nThis is Johnathan Stormtide signing off, its been an honor. \n"
] | [
1,
2
] | [
"1496205710",
"1496208378"
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[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors | 8,935 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"*chaotic run/fight scene*:\n\nWE LOST R/MLADYLUMPS!!\n\nNO!!! THEY GOT HIM? HOW??! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE HIS GODDAMNED BACK!! \n\nNO HE GOT OVER WINDED CLIMBING THE STAIRS AND HAD A HEART ATTACK!!\n\nDAMMIT! HE HAD THE KEY CODES! WE'RE TRAPPED!!\n\n*the aliens close in. Suddenly a man steps out of the shadows*\n\nIts...its r/fedoratheexplora!\n\nr/fedoratheexplora: [closes eyes and clenches fists]( \nhttps://i.imgur.com/yrwu6SE.gif)\n\n*the aliens are immediately incinerated*\n\nWhat...what are you?...\n\nr/fedoratheexplora: For another time. Right now lets get out of here. \n",
"The year is 2050, 16 years after the aliens attacked, I was only a baby when it happened but I clearly remember my family, being ripped from our car and being eaten. Now at the age of 18 those memories of them mean nothing my only goal is to stop the aliens once and for all, the only thing being is that I have never seen the aliens at all until today. Even when I was attacked I never saw them, I didn't even see my parents really and its been far to long to remember what they look like. My current family and I live on a ship that is cut off from the world until we come of age to fight. Today on my birthday was my day when it was my time to leave I noticed that all the other young recruits looked different than me, and it occurred that we all came from different places when they attacked and like me were brought aboard the ship. Upon are farewells to my family I left the ship and set out to kill, I managed to kill many of the aliens that plagued are world, the whole entire time wondering that they were to easy to kill. After Killing the last one in my quadrant I looked at the alien to see what they looked like. Upon observing it I noticed they weren't scary at all and that they seemed week. After my assumption as I was walking away I saw the movement of another alien in the corner of my eye. When I turned around it turned around to, it suprised me to see that it was wearing everything I was wearing except opposite, as I looked closer I noticed that it was a strange thin material on a wall with Photos on it, upon further investigation it occurred to me that the alien was me. Being confused I looked at the pictures and noticed that they were all aliens that looked exactly like me one including the date 4/23/2033, one year before the attack. It puzzled me as to why it would be there, then I thought what if I am apart of them and we're weren't actually the aliens. Upon realizing this I realized I killed off the last of my kind thinking that I was actually killing the virus but instead I was killing the host.\n\nF.I.N\n\n\nSome random shit off the top of my head, yes my English is shit don't judge me plz, tell me what you thought of my first ever free response on Reddit.[:)](http://i.imgur.com/oMl7ywJ.png)",
"At first we all band together and it's actually working! We seem to be actually winning! That is until civil war breaks out. The original leaders fight a losing battle against the people who act, walk, and talk like the original leaders. Eventually the fakers win but by then it's too late... all the infighting made us weak and the aliens quietly waited for the fakers to gain power, knowing that the fakers were just going to do the same thing over and over again despite the plan not working the fire time. So within about a day the Aliens kill all humans except the fakers with which are rewarded with life! Life as a slave. ",
"She sat there staring at the screen. It had been almost a month since things changed. The only reminder that things had once been different lay clasped in her hand. \n\nAs her fingers glided over the shattered and almost unrecognizable screen, she took solace in the gentle glow. In the darkness around her, she heard a gentle rustling. The others were there sleeping, wrapped in their false sense of security. \n\nAlmost subconsciously, she opened the app. It was amazing how much she clung to this one seemingly insignificant thing. She refreshed the page knowing nothing would change, the servers had been down for weeks. \n\nA post appeared. With her heart racing, she opened it, unable to read the title. Inside it simply said:\n\n\"Goodbye.\" \n\nThe screen fades and the rustling stops.",
"They die immediately at the sight of the hopelessly awkward and the screeches of the autistics they encounters when attempting to clear all dank, stuffy basements and one bedroom semen stenched apartments. All unwitting heroes have one thing in common.. a website where spacedicks and drumpf-o-phobes and files congregate to earn each other's respect and fake internet points.",
"We were the only ones left. It was tough. \n\nIf it wasn't for the exponentially better wifi and access to billions of new alien internet domains with a built-in translator, we might have even left our houses. \n\nBut we didn't.",
"\"Happy New Year!\" I say to myself, Yet again after another year with no progress. I sat surrounded by the empty seats in my home.\n\nIt was all good, Everthing went right, Until this.\n\nI send out another post to r/askreddit trying to find any hope of life. a day passes. again. nothing.\n\nI had almost lost hope until i noticed that i had gotten an upvote on my post. The light illuminating off my phone from the notification put what felt like a smile on my face.\n\nI had no connection to whoever liked it; nor did i think I would ever be saved. But it gave me hope- Hope that one day, The world would be back to normal. Without them.\n\nThe one who upvote my post probably couldn't do anything. Likely a typical redditior. Fat, Eats chips 24/7.\n\nI realized nothing could be done about them. I had lost hope.\n\nI knew i couldn't last a second out there. \n\nI knew it was certain i would die.\n\nI knew they would take control of my beloved home. \n\nI hear hovering above my head; So i crawl down under the table. Again.\n\nIt's over. Nothing could be done.\n\nAfter a while, I shut off my phone, And sat on the ground, Crying.",
"Another cat video.\nSeems like every day is a cat video. \nIlikegolf1 put his phone down with a heavy sigh, rest his Ruger .22 on the tree stump to his left and unscrewed the metal top of his canteen.\n\n\"We just gonna sit here again?\" Gtr478 protested angrily, his feet kicking dirt as he sprawled his body on the moist ground. The canteen screeched as it's top came off, with more protest than Golf's campanion. \"When are we gonna act?\"\n\n\"When they tell us too.\" Golf said with more conviction than he meant and watched his friend's expression sink in despair. There were so few of them left, they hadn't seen another soul on months. And they wouldn't. More than a few life forms in one place would attract the hunters. It always had. Golf shivered at the memory of the last time they had spotted \"friends,\" nothing but their heads and innerds left outside of what was once a shelter, it's charred wood burned to ash and it's rock base scattered like a salted farm, never to be of use again.\n\nHe yearned for a dog video, or at least a meme to give them some direction or a course of action. As it was now, every day was a simple cat. \"Relax. Eat. Sleep.\" And then repeat. \n\nGTR's heavy breathing drew Golf's attention. Clutched in his shaking hand, his phone was streaming video. A workout video. \"Lose 10 pounds in 1 Week Fails\" it said. Just posted. 179 upvotes. 2 gold. They made eye contact, knowing what it meant.\n\nBlindly reaching for his pistol, Golf brought himself to his feet only to lay eyes on a horrid sight. If only the post had come earlier, they could have prepared.",
" > be me\n > that's funny, there's no internet\n > better put on my gas mask\n > already fondling my soviet bolt action rifle\n > raise Venetian blinds 11mm and peek outside\n > there's a handfull of neckbeards and a chubby girl\n > they're running around with flashlights and brooms\n > huh\n > I watch for a minute then try the internet again\n > the power is out, too, now.\n > look back at the redditors. one has a 1911 from kimber\n > shygddt even rock island would have better\n\nbang! bang!\n\n > he's shooting at something\n > hard to see in the dark\n > He's down. some kinda spider thing has him pinned\n > other neckbeards swat at it with brooms but soon overwhelmed\n > it is my time\n > open window\n > 85m\n > aim nugget a little low for center of mass hit\n**boom**\n\n\n > report from rifle echoes off houses\n > car alarms go off\n > spider/alien is paste now\n > other creatures run off\n > the redditors look in my direction \n > can't see shit at 85m in the dark\n > they call and wave but i don't feel like talking\n > recheck the internet. still down\n\nand that's how i became the legend that saved the leader of the redditfags from the aayyy's",
"These aliens come in peace, you can't just blame the entire race of aliens for 1 ship killing 10 million people. Nor the 5 aliens that killed 20 million yesterday.\nYou guys are being extremely bigotted and racist.\n\nMe: they are literally saying kill and enslave all humans.\n\nLook they need earths resources too. I'm reporting you for hate speech.\n\nMe: open reddit type \"dear aliens, leave no one alive.\"",
"It had been the most upvoted comment in three places, cross posted and tagged Controversial, Sticky AND Serious in r/WorldNews, r/Politics and r/TIL . \n\nSure, the recipe was all simple stuff, if not a little complicated; I mean, it kinda had to be. And while it wasn't ONLY Redditors who successfully inoculated themselves against the initial xenophage, it was over 60% and that's enough for a statistician anyway.\n\nOnce the ships actually descended, I guess they were expecting a depopulated planet instead the young, the web-literate and the trolls armed with homebrewed explosives, commandeered military equipment and more snark than any ET could have ever expected.\n\n'AMA Tank Team' and 'TIL diy plastique' were very popular threads that week. ",
"My fingers cramped, my back's in pain, \nso many reposts I might go insane. \nWarm and cozy in my room, \nbright white light, bang, crash, boom! \nWhat the hell? My body shudders, \nI hobble outside with the courage I can muster. \nI thought we were safe in our hidden hive, \nbut the redditors shrieked when they arrived... \nShort and green, hissing and crawling, \nI might break down and just start bawling. \nI thought it was over, the war was won? \nBut the slimy green devils were all but done. \nI turned around, ran to my desk, \nBreaking news: They Found The Nest! \nI must escape but I don't drive, \nbusses aren't running- at least I have reddit live. \n\"Blocks A through C is where they seem to be,\" \nthank god I have one friend, Tony, he lives in block G. \nI rolled out of my chair and waddled to the street, \ngotta go fast or I'll be dead meat. \nMy short stubby legs won't keep up, \nthey shake and cramp, can't even jump. \nI thought I was done for but I heard a car coming, \n'81 Civic, its little 4 cylinder humming. \nOh my god, could it be? \nThank the heavens, Tony is here to save me. \nAn alien raised its slender finger, \nTony roared through but time seemed to linger. \nThat little white car was slammed into a tree, \nI wet my pants and was hit by debris. \nThe blackened sky is filled with ships, \nI'm dying alone, and I don't even have my chips. \nMy eyes are heavy and I hear a chopper, \nthen I was hit by Tony's antenna topper. \nA cute little guy, red and round, \nrolling across the cold dead ground. \nWhy I'll be damned, it's a little Snoo, \nand today Snoo, I will not bid you adieu.... \nI grasp at life, chopper overhead, \nthey pull me up and lay me down in a bed. \nRockets fly, we're fighting back, \nbut the aliens launched a massive attack. \nThe aliens are chanting \"All humans must die,\" \nand their laser beam evaporates our convoy of tanks. \nthe life drains out of me, \"me too thanks.\" \n\n",
"Let me tell you a story, kid. \n\nThe Sufari came to Earth in March of 2034. They bearing technology we could only imagine, language we could barely approximate, and a thought process that was all honor and rules that didn't make sense to most of us. Their weapons were capable of destruction in ways we had never seen. They wiped out billions of us in the first volley, blasts of energy keyed, somehow, to destroy only humans, and only those humans they decided needed to be destroyed.\n\nThe world itself, they left standing. Our technology, weak as it was in comparison. Our defenses. Our buildings and our infrastructure. Even animals, plants, food. They left it all. They didn't want our world, our resources. They wanted a fight. They wanted what they considered a fair fight. They were the champions of their world, and they wanted to face the champions of ours. But they chose our champions for us. They looked over the world in secret when they arrived, and chose a caste of people known for a variety of thought and philosophy, united by a common thread, a common love, but in endless combat with each other. For some reason we may never understand, they chose Redditors.\n\n1000 link karma. That's all it took to make the list. Comment karma didn't count for shit, they wanted champions, not lurkers. 1000 measly link karma, and somehow you found yourself standing unharmed as the people around your - friends, family, strangers - disintegrated in a wave of alien energy. We put the causality together pretty quickly, because of course pretty much all of us took to Reddit first thing, looking for survivors.\n\nThat's where we found the post. Stickied to everyone's front page, written in English so perfect it had to be alien. The Sufari explained to us that we'd been chosen to stand for Earth, to earn our right to survive. They saw us as bred for battle, living it with our hearts, minds, and souls. Willing to fight to the death over the most inconsequential of subjects. Unfeeling, uncaring of the pain we caused each other, they believed we would fight them with the same tenacity. They were confident we'd provide a challenge, but they were clear in their expectation that we would lose.\n\nThey weren't even a little bit prepared.\n\nSome of us, we'd been on Reddit since the beginning, or near enough as to make no difference. I'd personally accidentally missed 21 Cake Days, and was coming up on my 22nd when they arrived. Over the decades, many of us had accumulated so much more than 1000 link karma. So much more. We rose up, we became leaders. It could have been the moderators, but no one wanted to deal with how they wanted to run things - no one ever appreciated the moderators. Most of them broke off early on, formed their own tribe, fell to infighting. They few that remain, well ... you know what they are. Nearly as bad as the Sufari, enforcing their maniacal rules on all of us, in their golden masks. Modern inquisitors, ensuring everyone plays by the rules, but really just making sure everyone plays by their crazy whims.\n\nNo, leadership didn't land on them. It fell to those of us with real influence. I myself had lucked out - Summer of 2017, I wrote myself a novel, pulled a major following over on /r/Fantasy. Had myself some allies on a couple D&D subreddits, some other tabletop subreddits. Built myself a modest army of tactical thinkers and wanna-be heroes, all of them looking for something to believe in, some chance to prove themselves. Had my fair share of tabletop quarterbacks, Mary Sues, assholes obsessed with traitor mechanics. Weeded them out, built a solid fighting force. Those self-destructive lunatics over at /r/WoW came for me first ... they were bad before WoW 2 dropped, they'd just gotten worse in the years since. We sent 'em packing, though. Clean, easy. They hate each other more than they'll ever hate the rest of us.\n\nSo that was my tribe. But there were others. So many others. The watchers from the news subreddits, their darker counterparts from /r/PublicFreakout. The gamers, seeking greatness. The sovereign citizens, seeking their own rules ... they didn't last too long, once the moderators stopped their infighting and turned to the rest of us. The sovereigns were the first to fall, and it wasn't even to the Sufari. That's what threw the aliens off, I think - they were expecting a united front to fight them, not an eclectic collection of hundreds of tribes as willing to fight each other as we were the Sufari.\n\nBut we were capable of rising up together, and that's exactly what we did. Those Browncoat heroes over on /r/Firefly - I'll love every one of them until the day I die, hand to heart - they brought us together in the first and last united battle against the Sufari. They showed us, for one glorious moment, what we could do when we worked together ... honor them, kid, when you see them. You'll never find a more dedicated bunch, and we have a lot in common. Just don't call what they did \"unification.\"\n\nEither way, they brought us together. The Founders - those unknowing programmers who had created and grown Reddit before the Sufari came - very few of them actually survived the initial attack. Ironic, really. But those that survived, they took on one job: Keeping Reddit running, keeping us communicating. The Sufari were struggling, they couldn't wipe us out when we were so scattered, even while we were fighting each other. So the went for the Founders, in the ruins of San Francisco ... I guess you don't know that name. It's the island north of Silone Valley. That used to be a city, you know. \n\nThe Sufari, they descended on the ruins, they went for our heart. And the Browncoats brought us together. For one day, we stopped killing each other and started killing the Sufari. They couldn't handle it. We fought with a tenacity you can only have from spending years refusing to be wrong. We fought with the unflinching unity you can only find in echo bubbles. We fought with the hopeful dedication of die-hard fans, of people who won't be told who or what they can or should love. We'd each of us, all of us, spent a lifetime at our keyboards, thinking we could change, save, or destroy the world based on our whims.\n\nAnd the Sufari? Well, the Sufari were fool enough to actually make that a reality. They weren't prepared for us to actually take them up on it. Not one of them survived. Not one escaped. No sequels here. They won't be coming back. We brought them down, we burned them to ash, and we destroyed their ships.\n\nThat was thirty years ago. This is our world, and we're not leaving it, we're not giving it up. Not even to each other. We're still here, and we're still fighting.\n\nBut you know that. I'm rambling on now. Curse of being an old Redditor, I guess. Maybe you'll get lucky and get to know what I mean. But first, you gotta survive the day. The enemy is at our gates. Go. Be a hero. Find something to believe in. Change the world.\n\nAnd, hey: Happy 16th Cake Day, kid.",
"Chairman: \"All right, the High Council is called to order. Is there any old business to discuss?\" \nFirst delegate: \"All of the world governments are either wiped out, or holed up in underground bunkers. We can dispense with the remainders according to the established schedule.\" \nChairman: \"How's the nuclear cleanup going?\" \nThird delegate: \"It will take a while, but fortunately, only three world leaders had the stones to launch, so most of the missiles were taken out by our counter measures.\" \nChairman: \"Very good. Any new business?\" \nFifth delegate: \"Well, sir, we did come across a new group that may need attention...\" \nChairman: \"Oh?\" \nFifth delegate: \"Yes sir, it seems they stumbled onto our secure communications network...\" \nChairman: \"Shit! Again?! This isn't going to be another 4chan, is it?\" \nFifth delegate: \"I don't think so, sir. The 4chan were clearly trying to disrupt our communications, and as you know, wreaked havoc on our plans for several weeks.\" \nChairman: \"What's different this time?\" \nFifth delegate: \"This intrusion seems to be entirely accidental. The human appeared to be attempting to request delivery of a large quantity of low-nutritional-value snack food.\" \nChairman: \"You said it was a group?\" \nSecond delegate: \"Yes sir, a fairly large one.\" \nChairman: \"How is it that they have escaped our notice for so long?\" \nFifth delegate: \"Well, um. They don't seem to go outside much. Sir.\" \nChairman: \"They don't go outside much? We've been here for months! Who the hell are these humans?\" \nSecond delegate: \"They seem to be a very loose coalition organized around a communications channel called \"Reddit\". \nChairman: \"The small furry creature whose feet provide good fortune?\" \nThird delegate: \"No sir, that's a rabbit. I believe these are named after the diminutive, fictional creatures with hairy feet from popular entertainment.\" \nSecond delegate: \"That's a hobbit. This is something else. They seem to be made up of a bizarre spectrum of political, religious, social, and, er, anti-social ideologies. The main commonality seems to be a supreme confidence in their own individual opinions.\" \nChairman: \"Okay, so how do we defeat them? Targeted strikes?\" \nFifth delegate: \"Impractical, sir. They are too geographically dispersed.\" \nChairman: \"Can we lure them out for a head to head fight?\" \nSecond delegate: \"Unlikely, sir. Most don't even seem to know or believe that we're here.\" \nChairman: \"How is that possible?\" \nFifth delegate: \"Like I said, sir, they don't go outside much. The good news is that the group used to be much larger. Significant numbers of them apparently were ordinary people who were wiped out in the first several attack waves.\" \nChairman: \"Good. But how do we root out the rest of them?\" \nFifth delegate: \"It might be best to just wait them out, sir.\" \nChairman: \"That will take too long. With the distributed, autonomous power and food production systems the humans have developed in the last decade or so, it could take years. Some could hold out indefinitely.\" \nThird delegate (quietly): \"Not if we take away their will to live.\" \nChairman: \"And how do we do that?\" \nThird delegate (more firmly): \"Turn off the porn.\" \nSeveral delegates at once: \"No.\" \"Too far!\" \"Seems extreme.\" (Softly, from the back of the room) \"Wasn't that what we conquered this planet for?\" \nChairman: \"All, right! All right. Settle down. We will table this matter for future discussion until the Second and Fifth delegates have studied it further and devised a plan. At this stage of the conflict, we should not need to meet as often. See you in six months.\"\n\n*****\n\nAnd so it went with the Earth's new High Council meetings. The Second and Fifth delegates to the High Council at first provided detailed reports on the resistance group known as \"Redditors\", but failed to devise an effective and efficient means of eliminating them. As time wore on, both the reports and proposed plans became more vacuous, until the line item on the agenda became simply a pro forma point in the ever-less-frequent meetings to pause for a delegate to say \"Nothing new to report.\"\n\n*****\n\nAnd yet, some Redditors, *did* begin to venture outside, and once again engaged in meetups (though more secretive than they once were). They formed small communities, and carried on the species known as humans. At times, proposals were made to engage the alien invaders who had taken over the planet. But having concluded the prescribed stages of the invasion, the aliens had shut down most of their largely automated military apparatus. And their relatively small enclaves were few and far between. So the Redditor strike forces sent out to fight the aliens repeated failed to actually find any. Eventually they stopped looking and the most heated conflicts once again took place between subreddits: those favoring aggressive action against the invaders, those who favored peaceful coexistence with them, and those who categorically denied their existence.\n\nOne day, perhaps, the two species will take notice of each other once again. Whether those descendants will still desire to fight each other remains to be seen. But for now, a quiet peace reigns*. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*^^^Just ^^^IRL, ^^^though. ^^^On ^^^Reddit ^^^half ^^^the ^^^people ^^^still ^^^hate ^^^the ^^^other ^^^half",
"I was sitting at home,drinking Vytautas mineral water while playing EU4. Suddenly,i decide to check reddit to see that the aliens have killed most of the world. I contacted my ITV loving friend /u/CaribbeanSeaAnomaly on reddit to inform him. We found the other redditors and gathered them together in various areas,forming regiments of redditors by country and region. I was in charge of the 67th Turkish Division of Redditors so me,and the other 99 redditors wave our Snoo and Crescent flag while singing Rick Roll as an anthem. We,and the other 80 Turkish Divisions marched unto the alien base in Edirne,meeting up with the 28 Bulgarian Divisions. All of us march on and on until we reach Slovakia. There,we had formed an army of 200000. We had gotten reports of the aliens landing with their main battleship to Ireland and with another,roughly equal sized force in Lithuania. We split in two,one bound for Ireland and another for Lithuania. I was in the division that will fight the aliens in Lithuania but when we got to Bialystok,we heard that the American Redditors have attacked the aliens with dank memes and won. When we got to the Lithuanian Border, /u/Augenis,leading the Lithuanian Division reported us that the aliens have moved to Estonia. So with them and the Latvians we marched to Estonia but when we arrived at Panevezys we heard that the Memers of Spain had came in as support and defeated the aliens in Ireland. When we arrived at Tallinn,we prepared for battle. We all came from different subreddits, from /r/vexillology to r/ooer, from r/chemistry to /r/weeaboo. We faced the aliens and we fought hard with the subreddits we belonged to being a fighting tool against the aliens as well. For this time /r/pitchforkemporium came with real pitchforks as well. The members of r/Stellaris dealt with the aliens in many ways that are sometimes incomprehensible to the rest of us while r/CK2 has done some NSFW stuff. r/EU4 shouted \"ULM STRONK!\" For this battle only, r/FinlandConspiracy has accepted the existence of Finland.\nThe battle was epic... All of us survived. Shortly after the battle of Tallinn ended,we got reports from other Redditors through the new /r/RedditDefenseForce subreddit that they have defeated the aliens with the sheer power of memes. 70 percent of the Poles have stolen the spaceship of the aliens after the war as reparations to board on it so from this point onward....\nPoland can into space.",
"That night started like hundreds previous other nights, as I sat perusing the front page of the internet. My eyes barely registered the posts about Trump, or the endless art threads where a lone protagonist faces a distance, menacing goliath. I was here for the good stuff. It had long become my addiction. Was I ashamed? Of course. I hid that folder in the deepest reaches of my PC. Categorized, ranked and backed up to my precious external drive which was layered in bubble wrap.\n\nI was an expert. In my head. Hours spent looking at pictures, pouring over videos and gifs. Studying movement and behaviour. Commenting on how cute they were, what I'd do to them if they were mine. My imagination often went wild, but I wanted to experience the mundane as well. Walks on the beach, spooning each other as we nap in the sun, sitting down to watch TV after a long day.\n\nThen it happened. Quickly. Reddit barely had time to argue about it before all communication was terminated. I sat at my PC, wondering what was next. Was it even worth wondering? I clutched my external drive tight. It was my desert island movie. Forget the Swiss army knife or blanket.\n\nThe cities were hit hard. I decided to make a break for the country. Maybe buy myself some time. I packed some essentials, made sure my laptop was charged, wrapped the drive in an extra layer of bubble wrap and ran. It seemed like days. Ships were hovering in every direction I looked. They were raining down destruction with impunity. Fireballs rose from the city, and screams bounced off the hills I was staggering across.\n\nI could feel them closing in. I took shelter in an old barn and turned on my laptop. One last time before the end I thought, as I plugged in the external drive. I clicked the dozen or two times necessary to find the folder and I went crazy. Multiple videos at once, slideshows of the pictures and manually clicking through gifs. My only regret if it ended here, would be that I never experienced this in real life. I wept at the tragedy of it all. \n\nThe barn doors slammed open and there stood two immense and grotesque creatures, their three fingered hands glowing as if the energy they emitted was barely contained. Their multiple irises darting back and forth made them look almost perplexed as they came upon my shameful scene. As a habit, I covered the screen with my hands.\n\n\"Huu-maaan\" the first one droned out.\n\"Whot....yooo.....hiiid.....ing?\" The last syllable dropping out of his mouth like a rock into a deep pool.\n\n\"N...n..nothing!\" I stammered as I went to close the lid.\n\nThe second made a tremendous noise, guttural and high pitched at the same time. Instinctively I knew it meant 'stop.' I froze.\n\nThey walked over with amazing grace for such enormous beings. I hung my head in shame. My last moments on earth would be a story for these aliens and their buddies. They would laugh at my disgrace and exaggerate my patheticness. Not exactly how I pictured my legacy.\n\n \"Whot....isss......this...?\" This time it hissed out of its mouth. \n\nI rose my head and stared into its round toothless maw. I steeled myself . I had nothing to be ashamed of, and if I was going to die, I would die like the man I yearned to be.\n\n\"I...I downloaded these from the internet, a global information hub.\"\n\nHe pointed at a picture. \"Doo...yoo...all...have..?\" The energy from his finger seemed to distort the picture so he pulled it away.\n\n\"Some of us...some of us have these.\" I pointed to a different picture. His pupils expanded as he examined the screen.\n\n\"Why....huuu.....man?\" His speech becoming more clear with every sentence.\n\n\"Well...for some it's a necessity, others it's just for fun. It's rewarding in many ways.\"\n\n\"You...look...after...these?\" It seemed genuinely curious. \n\n\"They look after us too.\" I replied proudly. I wouldn't die in shame.\n\nThey arched their heads toward each other and the energy seemed to dissipate from their hands.\n\n\"Humans not all that bad.\" His speech nearly perfect now, as they turned around and seemed to glide out the door. I watched as their ships and hundreds of others shrank into stars in the night.\n\nRelieved beyond belief, I sat back at the laptop and digested what had just occurred. I laughed quietly to myself and promised never to be ashamed again. Even the aliens thought it was totally natural. I decided it was time to go.\n\nMoving the cursor over to the x, I closed the folder labelled r/aww and closed the laptop.\n\n\"I'm getting a cat.\" \n\n\n\n",
"The day of the snoo was upon us, after years of us mocking of their race they decided now was the time to strike.\n\nTheir first move was to take out the pretenders at /r/totallynotaliens. The snoo struck them down with their mighty Internet bending powers, killing all of those who clicked on /r/totallynoyaliens. \n\nThe snoo moved to systematically took out every single Reddit page, they spared no one. They tried to kill /u/spez and /u/Mattophobia, but it turned out they were both emotionless robots. \n\nAfter a week of absolute slaughter the snoo's had reclaimed Reddit as their own. Classes would use the site to teach young snoos of the evils of humans. ",
"A week after the event, I finally went on the internet. You think the world would end in thunder and lightning, but really it ended with a quiet shower. \n\nIt was hard to type with everything that had happened, but I logged onto my last refuge. Time and time again, through the mountains and crevasses of my old life... when the worst was when my mind wouldn't make a sound, I could always throw my voice into the void and get voices back.\n\nBut, after everything that had happened... would there be anyone to listen? \n\nA new post blinked on my screen. \"Is anyone left?\" Another voice screaming into the void. To my surprise as I clicked on the thread to answer, there were thousands of voices calling back. \n\nI don't know how long we all talked. We organized ourselves into what locations we were all in. I thought I was alone in Colorado, but there were hundreds still left, hiding in the devastation. Little voices in the silence of the darkness. For a while, it was enough.\n\nBut we all knew that it wouldn't be. There were threads of them searching for survivors. Thanks to our communications, we could judge where they were and direct our fellows away from them. But we could all only run for so long before our power ran out. Who knew how long the servers could run for. \n\nFinally, I put out a thread. \"We need to fight\". To hell with it all, we were all dead anyway. Screaming into the void, I got roars back. Something that people tended to forget before all of this: we weren't stereotypes. We were anyone: military, scientists, students; people with lives and skills who sometimes just needed to talk to someone, anyone. And we were pissed. \n\nI'm with the Colorado group now. I'm writing this for the future, if there is one. There is no silence in my mind; no void. It is so loud now. We're going to fight, kill, roar into the void that they created and dare them to even try to create it again. They might try to silence us, but we will not go quietly. \n\n\n",
"The aliens thought they had destroyed us all. They thought our planet was their's for the taking. But this is our planet. And we were not going down without a fight.\n\nThe first step was to organize. We decided to continue using reddit.com as our main communications channel, as something about the site seemed to ward off the aliens. After all, we were the only ones to survive the chemicals. We knew these aliens were far more advanced than us technologically. Fortunately, someone managed to get their hands on a device. Of course, after seeing one person do it, the reposters had to get their hands on some too.\n\nNext, we mailed the devices to members of /r/hacking and /r/programming to see if they could figure out how they worked. After much collaboration, the top heads at /r/hacking said they could hack into the alien's ships, at least for a few minutes before the aliens figured out what was going on.\n\nAfter that the mods put out a site-wide survey to see what we should do when we hack them. The winner: troll the fuck out of 'em.\n\n\"Gloxorth? What's going on?\" Bletsnu asked.\n\n\"I don't know! These messages just keep flashing through the ship! We don't know where they're coming from!\"\n\n\"Have you tried contacting the other ships?\"\n\n\"Yeah but whenever I pick up the communicator I just hear someone saying something in that weird Earth tongue of theirs. Hey, you're fluent in Earth tongues, right? Can you try to translate it?\"\n\nBletsnu walked over and picked up the communicator. She immediately recognized the message. \"You underestimate my power!\"\n\nBletsnu put down the communicator and muttered \"prequel memes is leaking again.\"\n\n\"What?\" said Gloxorth.\n\nSuddenly, a hole appeared in Gloxorth's scaly chest. He looked at Bletsnu, dumbfounded, then his eyes moved to the blaster in her hand. Just before he died, Bletsnu whispered in his ear, \"For Earth.\"\n\nWith that, she looked up at the ship's screen in satisfaction. The image of snoo was clearly displayed for all to see, and Bletsnu was sure it was also displayed across the other ships as well. Beneath it read the words, \"Welcome to the front page of the internet. Welcome to Hell.\"",
"They had arrived.\nThe world's nations fell quickly.\nThe communist countries, the Middle East and Russia put up a good fight now that I think about it.\nAnd **Putin riding a bear into battle while duel-wielding AKs and fueling his rampage with vodka** was the most stereotypically Russian thing I had ever seen.\nAlso, it was **fucking hilarious.**\nThe democratic countries however were still discussing how to deal with the invasion when the aliens entered the conference room, and exterminated them like they were wasps.\nCan you believe they thought the aliens would negotiate!?\n\nEventually us redditors were the only ones left.\nThat was when the declaration was signed.\nAll subreddits put aside their differences and formed the most effective military the world would ever see.\nr/MURICA supplied weapons, and ho boy, did they have a lot of firepower.\nThe 100% FLESHY HUMANS of r/totallynotrobots were like tanks on the battlefield.\nThe soldiers from the battlefield subreddits were brilliant fighters and tacticians, and the CoD players were effective guerrilla units, thanks to their endless hours of training spent camping.\nThe pilots of r/titanfall **actually built actual titans**\n(I immediately went with a tone) and crushed many an alien with their MLG parkour skills and falling titans.\nThe food-based subreddits like r/pizza kept the soldiers fed, and r/memes was a brilliant source of morale.\n\nHowever, the best fighters were the lads of r/Inglin, who were angry that her majesty had been shot (she managed to survive, the woman is practically immortal I tell you).\nYou could hear them singing God save the Queen as loud as they could while mowing down the aliens with spitfires, lancasters and **patriotism even the Americans couldn't beat**.\n(When the war ended, the British empire was restored, with some minor changes in that they gave up the colonies in Asia for America.)\n\nThe 100% bipedal humans of r/totallynotaliens reversed their role, and became spies.\nThe men and women of r/DIY were invaluable, as they repaired and rebuilt ruined military installations.\nThe aliens, despite their superweapons were no match for the missile-laden cyclopses provided by r/subnautica, which were like the wolfpacks of the second world war.\n\nAll in all, the aliens were beaten, even though their weaponry was over a century away from ours.\nThey had been defeated by a collection of amateur and professional chefs, some guys in sheds, gamers, Dat Boi and radial thirds.\nWe knew they would be back, and that next time they wouldn't fuck around.\nBut neither would we.\nThat wasn't even our final form.\nNext time, we would have r/Xcom.\n\nEDIT: spelling and added spaces between paragraphs.",
"I saw scores of men fall in the surge... \n\nTo xenomorphs and doggo-aliens that had merged.\n\nI saw the tides of battle wane\n\nI saw our leaders, galore, fall into the hands of their leader\n\nI saw our efforts go in vane \n\nI saw them treat us like a mobile feeder\n\nWe danced and screamed like a chew toy\n\nUntil the only one on the streets was a punk boy\n\nCrying out to fight, these hellistic demons galore\n\nAnd when his voice was still\n\nWe all gathered and bore\n\nA similar mark til'\n\nThe end of time we shared\n\nThis mark of which we bared\n\nIt's called being \"redditors\"\n\nwe certainly aren't \"predators\"\n\nBut by God we'd win the fight\n\nand we would make them run\n\ninto that dark starry night\n\nWith our mind guns\n\n\nLarry was a furry\n\nAnd Jane was a writer\n\nMaxim's job was blurry\n\nbut we think he was a keyboard fighter\n\nJames was a bonds man\n\nAnd Carlos had /nosleep\n\nMishka was a Russian fan\n\nRon liked going shoulder deep\n\n\nSomehow this band\n\nof brothers and girl\n\nWould stop a fight that spanned\n\nfrom galaxies to Belgium \n\nand Jane could hurl\n\na grenade into an engine\n\nusing her trebuchet.\n\n\nBoom went the ship\n\nFloating down from space\n\nJanes hand went to her hip\n\nand said \"There goes a race\"\n\nMaxim sat there laughing\n\nAnd Carlos said with glee\n\n\"I'm going to go on slashing\n\nup a story about...me!\"\n\nMishka fought a bear,\n\nAnd james just said goodbye\n\n\"With a head of hair,\n\nI bet that I can lie.\n\nThe name is bond,\"\n\nhe said, and off he went\n\nWe weren't too fond,\n\nof that man and how he spent\n\nHis time, his money, hell, his life.\n\nBut then came Larry,\n\nand James wasn't actually that bad anymore.",
"They started with our leaders.... and one by one they fell. As each new person rose to lead the resistance they were quickly identified and dispatched with those around them collateral damage. \n\nBut one group defied the odds. One groups unique structure confused and defeated the aliens systems of classification. \n\nWe are Redditors. \n\nWas it our quick wit and cunning? Our ability to adapt or the speed at which we share information? \n\nNo. \n\nThey just can't identify our leaders. \n\n\"Where is their god-like leader Dick-butt? Who is this Karl and his army of ducks? Why can't we find their great beasts the Snek, Doge, and Floof?\"",
"*Just one more post, then I'll head to bed. So many purple links. The only blue links are from r/TIL, but seriously, who actually opens those?\"*\n\nI take a sip of my coffee, struggling to work up the motivation to walk 10 feet to my bed.\n\n*Perhaps, I'll browse r/new for a bit. I mean someone has to do it, right? Maybe I'll get a top comment this time. *\n\nScrolling down, I nearly missed it. \"Aliens Invade! Redditors Unite!\" \n\n*PFFFT! Just some karma whore, I'm sure of it.*\n\nA quick look at the comment history and I see 3,423 post karma, but no 1 year trophy. \n\n*Alright, u/Lightly_Saltedd, What do you have to say?* \n\nAliens have invaded all of the world's capitals and are demanding information. At the time of this post no one had yet found out what they wanted. I refresh the page and see that the article has been updated. Aliens have begun slaughtering people they find useless to their cause. All of the world leaders and their families are dead, and they've moved on to entire populations, save for some. Nobody understands why. Maybe they were lucky. Maybe they planned ahead. Maybe they know something everyone else didn't. Either way, one thing is certain: it wasn't by accident. \n\nStunned, I rush to the window. Outside it's eerie and quiet. Cars are empty, the streets are abandoned, and there are clothes all over the place. I'm still here, but why? I have to find answers.\n\nI head back to my computer and refresh the page. Hundreds of new posts have popped up, all reporting on the story, but one in particular catches my eye.\n\n**\"We are responsible for the decimation of your species. If you are reading this, you've been left alive for a reason. AUA.\"**\n\nMy hands are shaking so violently I can barely type, but I must get the question out. \n\n*\"Why have you left us alive?\"*\n\n**Because within this userbase is the answer to our question.**\n\n*What do you want to know?*\n\n**What's inside the safe?**\n\n",
"The chips taste stale, dissolving to a salty potato dust in my mouth. The twinkies are hard, their soft spongieness having ossified weeks ago. The Code Red Mountain Dew still tastes pretty good, but it's a bit flat, and I'm down to my last 12 pack. \n\nHonestly, I didn't even realize that the alien invasion was happening until about four months in. Don't get me wrong, I was one of the first to hear about it, but I saw it on r/conspiracy and just assumed that it was another tin foil hat conspiracy. Go figure, they were the first to report on it, and damn it they were right. The UFO's were real after all. \n\nBeing rather shall we say rotund, and living by myself in my mom's old house, I didn't have much reason to go and join the militias or wars or anything like that. I just stayed holed up in my tiny little suburban brick house and continued to play video games and drink mountain dew. Thank god I made a huge Costco run just the night before. \n\nAnyways, the gun fire has died out, the TV is nothing but static, and I'm running out of food. My neck beard needs some trimming as well, but my Tesla solar panels can only provide so much juice. Guess I could do it by hand with some scissors. \n\nAm I the last one left? Maybe. I power up computer, pull up Firefox and head to reddit. Miraculously, the Internet still works, and thank God, I'd probably join the rest of humanity if it didn't. \n\nAin't too many fresh posts. I head to r/askreddit, finally having enough courage to submit a question.\n\n\"Hey Reddit, anyone else out there?\"\n\nClick submit. Wait. The minutes go by. I get an upvote! Amazing, a sign of life. A bit later and someone else leaves a comment! We get to talking, for long minutes. There are dozens of us, scattered around the world. Most people are in the same situation as me. Stocked up with food, just laying low. \n\nOne guy says everyone was captured and sold into slavery, shipped to mines across the Great Galactic Empire. But they left us behind. Because we were so well hidden? Perhaps. Most likely, because we're all so fat and out of shape.\n\nu/Lightly_Saltedd claims she's a girl, but who knows. Everyone is always lying on these things. But hey, maybe we can repopulate the earth. Not me, of course, I'm a virgin and wouldn't know what to do. But somebody else. \n\nWho knew. It wasn't the meek who inherited the earth. It was the neckbeards. "
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[WP]For 18 years you've lived in a small cabin in the mountains. Just you, your dog, and nature. It's been 10 years since you have talked to another human. Then one day a young woman shows up on your front porch and says she needs you help. | 13 | [
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"Tom placed each foot in front of the other. He counted to himself each step from the door to the bed where he had placed his disheveled guest. It was always five steps. The titanium plate filled with yellow scrambled eggs and crispy bacon clacked with a light ting on the pine nightstand next to the bed, that was now becoming too large for Tom in the recent years. He counted his measurements by the bedroom door frame every morning for the past ten years. Tom was now closing in on five feet eleven inches. He placed the fork, knife, and spoon in a perfect line on the napkin next to her breakfast. As he set down the place setting a dog’s black face peered around the door and let out a low growl.\n\n“Ulysses, shhh!” Tom said with a hand out to calm his German Shepherd down. Ulysses put his ears back and sat by Tom’s bedroom door. \n\nThe woman on his bed was like nothing he had seen before, because he had never seen another living person of the opposite sex. His imagination only described so much. It was nothing like he expected either. Her hair was not thick or long it was short, thin, and an unnatural scarlet red. Nine obsidian metal rings were pierced through her ears, five on the left and four on the right. Tom had to force himself to turn away and not pull out one on the left to fix the problem of her obvious mistake. Her hands were wrapped up in fresh cloth bandages and a white patch was taped up to cover her right eye, that was a dark purple color when Tom found her passed out on his porch. She wore dark tattered jeans and a black sweater that read ‘Idaho State University’ in orange letters. Tom watched her as he stepped out of the room. Five steps. He grabbed his black 7 mm rifle and sheathed Dozier knife from the gun rack by the door. Ulysses’ yellowish-brown eyes watched Tom as the door closed. He turned the knob three times and placed a pad lock on the door, which he also unlocked and locked three times.\n\n“What?” Tom said.\n\nUlysses uttered a low growl toward the door. \n\n“Hey! Keep quiet or I am sending you outside. Go eat your breakfast.”\n\nUlysses sneezes. Tom grabbed a chair from the kitchen, only ten steps from his bedroom door and placed it by the fire place which was about out. He rekindled it with aligning some of the wood he chopped from the day before until formed a perfect tipi. The cinders would catch quick when he added the predetermined amount of kindling. Tom turned his chair toward the door. He sets his rifle on the dark wood floor to his right and away from the stone fireplace; he also puts his knife in his ankle sheathe. After a few minutes Tom opens his copy of *Lonesome Dove* the cover had fallen off years ago in a fishing incident, he lost the fish. \n\nThree hours go by and Tom is engrossed in his book when Ulysses perked up turning his head toward the bedroom door. A light soft groan was heard from inside. Tom, rifle in hand and book on the floor, jumps up. \n\n“Ulysses, stay.” Tom said as he approached the door. \n\n“Hello?” She said. Her voice was rough and she let out a cough. “Hello? Can you please help me?” Tom frozen by the sound of another voice could not say a thing no matter how hard he tried. “Please! I need to help my friend he is in-“ She was interrupted by a coughing fit. “- he is in trouble!” Tom approaches within a foot of the door one step at a time. The door shakes as she tries to open it. “Please! Help me! He needs me!” She pounds on the door. \n\n“Why do you have nine earrings?” Tom said. She stops pounding.\n\nAfter a very long moment. “What?” The female voice said.\n\n“Your black metal rings in, I mean, on the side of your ears. What happened to the tenth one?” Tom said.\n\n“Are you fucking kidding?! Umm- I need to find my friend. Can you help me?! I am sorry if I seemed perturbed, but he could be dea-“\n\n“It just does not add up.” \n\n“What doesn’t?” \n\n“Your ears it should fit. It should fit evenly. Ten is even.”\n\n“Are you psycho? Listen, I will tell you all about my earrings if you just help me find my friend!” Her voice begins to trail off into an unintelligible mess. \n\nTom stands and listens. He looks at Ulysses behind him he is still sitting down.\n \n“Did I do that? I should have asked her name first, huh?” Tom said. Ulysses turns his head sideways. She continues to cry. Tom reaches for the door. “My name is Tom and this Ulysses. What is your name?” \n\n“Fuck you!” She said.\n\n“No, that is really my name.”\n\n“Are you retarded or something?”\n\nTom looks at Ulysses again and shrugs. “To be honest. I am not sure.” Tom said.\n\nAfter a long silence. “Can you let me out? I need to go help my friend.”\n\n“Okay.” Tom begins to open the door. He locks and unlocks the padlock three times, then turns the door knob three times, and then opens and closes the door three times. She is standing right beyond the door wrapped up in Tom’s flannel blanket. She is about chest height for Tom. Her pale green eye is blood shot, though it compliments her porcelain skin. It was easy for Tom to talk to her when there was a door between them, but now all he can do is stand there and stare.\n \n“Thank you, my name is Julia.” She pulls the blanket off her shoulders and gives it to Tom. “Oh.” She said.\n\n“Oh?” Tom said. He grabs the blanket from her wrapped up hands. \n\n“Ulysses is a dog. Thought there were two people here… Sorry, about the whole swearing at you, but I’m really scared. Can you help me find your friend?”\n\nHe looks at Ulysses again whose fur is standing up on end behind his neck. \n\n“Yes, yes we can.” Ulysses walks away. “Hey, get back here.” Ulysses walks out of sight into the kitchen. \n\nJulia jumps up and wraps her arms around him. “Thank you! We must go now! I am not sure how much time I got.” She climbs off him and runs to the front door. “Let’s go! I know the last place I saw him.” Tom is still facing the bedroom door eyes wide and it feels like all the blood in his body went to his face. \n\n“Just one moment. Then you- ‘We’ will. Find your guy friend. Friend, right? I have… I will get a few things from the shed then we can…” Tom says as he rushes to the backdoor between the kitchen and his room. He leaves it open. Now outside “One, two, three, four; wait!” He loses count and starts back from the back door along the pebble path toward the outhouse and shed. At the shed, he sees he left the back-door open, where both Ulysses and Julia are watching him, both their heads are tilted. Tom bites his tongue and closes his eyes and opens the shed door. Inside he begins to breath with at a rapid rhythm as he leans on his workbench where not a screw is not lined up in order from smallest to largest and organized by type. Further back there are two boar hides drying out as well as multiple slabs of meat hanging from the rafter.\n\n\n“Are you okay?” said Julia from behind the closed shed door. \n\n“Yes. Yes! I am stupendous! Just getting some rope.” \n \n“Okay. I’ll wait by the cabin.”\n\n“I am good, let’s go!” He swings the door open, rope in hand as well as a fully equipped tool belt. “I just need to call the ranger’s office.” Said Tom\n\n“No! No, time. We can call in when we have found him.” Said Julia. She begins to march on toward the path in front of the cabin. Ulysses creeps to Tom’s side and watches Julia fur on edge. \n\n“No. This is an emergency and my father said only use the radio in the case of an emergency.” Tom wraps the rope around his shoulder and holds his gun as he heads back into the house. \n\n“Don’t call them.”\n\n“It will only take a second.” Tom smiles. Ulysses begins to snarl at Julia. “Ulysses! Knock it off! I am sorry about-“ Tom stops mid-sentence to see Julia staring at him in tears and slowly backing away from the cabin and Tom.\n \n“Don’t call them!” said Julia.\n\n“Why?” said Tom. Holding the backdoor open. \n\n“I cannot explain it, but I do need your help that was honest. I am running.”\n\nTom pulls the gun on her and she throws her hands up. \n\n“You’re a criminal! Keep your hands up!” said Tom. Ulysses begins to bark. \n\n“No!” \n\n“There is no ‘friend’ is there!”\n\n“Yes, there is, but I- we can’t let the cops know!” A darker wet mark begins to spread between Julia’s legs. Tom notices as he begins to count the seconds in his head, but keeps his rifle trained on her. She crumbles to her knees and begins to cry uncontrollably. “I promised him.” \n\n“But it’s right to tell the authorities.” Tom lowers his gun and Ulysses stops barking. \n\nJulia collects herself and stands up. “Tom; I am sorry I called you retarded and cursed at you when all you did was help me. I made a promise to a friend and he I need to find him. If you help me I will explain everything, but we cannot call the authorities. They would not understand. Do what you think is right. I am leaving right now with or without you. Please trust me.”\n\n“That’s almost impossible considering the circumstances.” Tom said keeping his eyes trained on Julia. Julia reaches up and takes out the ninth earring out her left ear. Tom even though shaken can feel at peace that it fits together. \n\n“There was never a tenth earring.” Julia said as she puts the obsidian earring in her sweater pocket. “I will explain everything I promise.” \n\nTom looks at Ulysses who is no longer growling at Julia and after a long moment, Tom shrugs. \n\n“Okay, but I am going to be keeping an eye on you.” Tom said. “Let’s go find your friend.” \n\nJulia smiles and leads on. Tom and Ulysses follows, counting each step. \n\n",
"I breathed in the cold air. The air filled my lungs, the crispness invigorating me. More importantly, it heralded the start of winter.\n\nI stood up for a second, easing my aching back. Skinning a deer was hard work, but I was done. The meat and leather would serve me well in the coming months. Winter in the mountains could be brutally tough. \n\nI reached down to pet Duke. He was my wonderful dog. I had him when he was a puppy, and I wasn’t much bigger. He was a big golden retriever, and truth be told I was worried about him. I did not know the life expectancy of dogs, but I knew he was getting old. The thought of my only companion dying worried me.\n \nAs I hauled the deer to the drying racks, I spent a moment to thank my father’s spirit at his grave. I had buried him nigh on 10 years ago, when I was all of 9. I thanked him for the gift of learning and life. \n\nBeing one of the last humans alive sucked, though. There were times that I questioned his gift. When I was 8, a plague broke out. Dad had taken me and fled to the mountains. I hadn’t seen another person alive in close to ten years. Dad said there were probably survivors, somewhere, but the world he grew up in was dead. I had once seen a plane fly overheard, the summer after dad died, but since then, I had not heard anything about another human being alive. \n\nBefore he died, he taught me how to live off the land. How to fend for myself. How to trap and hunt. He told me how to tame a wolf, and mate him to Duke. I hadn’t been successful with that yet. Though to be honest, I was scared to try.\n\nMy night went on and I curled up on the floor of the tiny cabin with duke, next to the fire. I looked at my shelf of well-worn books. I decided to read one of my lesser favorites to him “Stuart Little.” I knew there was nothing there, but he always seemed to be more attentive to that book than my favorite of Peter Pan.\n \nI read for a while and then curled up and fell asleep crying in to duke’s fur. \nI woke as usual to the light of dawn seeping through the shutters over the windows. Duke was whining and licking my face. \n\nI stood up and put on my leathers. I looked fondly at my dad’s luggage and dreamed of when I could put on real clothing again. Even now, I still looked like a little kid playing dress up. Sometimes I wore the clothing anyway, to remember him. \n\nI took duke outside, and the cold air slapped me in my face. I walked over to my usual piss tree while Duke sniffed around and found a spot. \n\nI went to check on my drying rack at the meat and leather. As I was walking, Duke started barking his head off. I ran and grabbed the gun from inside the cabin door. \n\nOn the other side of the clearing, a big animal came trotting out of the woods, a Horse maybe? Some of the names escaped me.\n\nOn its back, sat a girl. Brown haired and approximately my age. She wore real clothing, and had a gun on her belt. She looked around the clearing and at my direction. \n\n“What the fuck?” she said. “Whatever. I need help. Please! My dad is hurt.”\n\nIt was the first words I had heard another person speak in nearly a decade. I started to cry, knowing I at last wasn’t alone. \n\n“Holy Fuck Man. GET IT TOGETHER. I need your help. My dad is dying. Please Help.” \n\nI stood there, dumb as a rock, and stared at the girl. She looked at me, and then yanked the rope things in her hand. The horse, that’s what it must be, turned around and started to walk away. \n\n“WAIT!” I yelled. “Sorry, I’ll help, Of course I’ll help.” \n\nI chased after the girl, who slowed down her horse, and duke chased through the woods at my side. I followed her for a space of time. She slowed down and I saw an older man leaning against a tree. Smaller than I remembered my father being, but maybe I had grown. \n\nHe was bleeding from his leg, but it wasn’t spurting, so none of the important things were damaged. His eyes were open and he was breathing. \nThe girl gave a squeal that sounded happy. \n\n“Oh thank god, you’re ok!! \n\n“Fine, I’m Fine. Well not fine. I shot myself, but I’ll live. If you have some gauze in your pack, and bandaging, I think I’ll be ok.” \n\nHe turned and looked at me. “What’s your name son?”\n\nI had to think about that for a moment. It had been a long time since I had used my name. Dad always called me ‘buddy,’ or ‘kiddo’ or something of the sort. \n\n“Steven” I said. \n\n“Well Steven, I’m John, and if she hasn’t introduced herself, this is Sarah. Do you have a place? Can we join you for a spell?” \n\n“Ok, I guess.”\n\nHe managed to get on the horse with some help and we walked in silence back to my cabin. Once there, I built up the fire, and put on some of the meat to cook. \n\n“Ok, son. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your story?”\n\nI took a moment to gather my thoughts. “Well, at the start of the plague, dad took me and we hid in the mountains. He claimed the world was destroyed, and that there was nothing left. I’ve been living here ever since. I thought I was the last human alive.” \n\nThe two of them looked at each other. “What plague?” \n",
"She was dressed like a hiker. A proper hiker too, someone with well-worn clothes and mud on their boots. She didn’t seem particularly tired either, although getting here couldn’t have been easy. I stared at her without thinking about it, unsure what to say, unsure if I even knew what to say. Suddenly I remembered that I hadn’t shaved in weeks, that Hadrian was barking and barking, that I hadn’t been to the river to wash up yet, that - \n \n“Are you okay? Can you hear me?” I was snapped out of the momentary panic when she spoke again, worry and a tinge of fear in her voice. I can only imagine how I must have looked to her, dressed in my homemade clothes, in front of a cabin in the middle of nowhere.\n \n“Sorry. Hadrian!” I shouted down at the old dog. With a whistle and a nod towards the cabin, he ran off to sit alert under the eave. “Help?”\n \n“Yes, help! I’m a backpacker, I’ve been lost for a few days now. I was worried I’d never find my way back until I smelled smoke and followed it here!” She seemed relieved without Hadrian’s constant barking, but didn’t move to step any closer.\n \n“Backpacker? Where? No trails here.” I knew the trails that came anywhere near my cabin, and the closest was a lengthy trek away. That was one of the reasons I liked it.\n \n“I was hiking the Appalachian, it got stormy, and I wanted to get off the trail. I couldn’t find it when the storm passed, and here I am. Listen, do you have a map or something? I don’t think mine covers this area.” She slung her pack around, a length of climber’s rope swinging around to smack with a sound louder than I’d expected. She fished through it before finding a trail map, faded and barely legible at the folds.\n \n“See, I was trying to get to the next peak here but other hikers said there was going to be lightning and I wanted to get off the trail because I was up high and…” She walked towards me, gesturing to the map without a pause for breath. I took an involuntary step back before catching myself.\n \n“No, no map.” Somehow my words cut through the verbal onslaught and she stopped in her tracks, looking up from her map at me.\n \n“Well then, can you…” She started, but I cut her off again, pointing back the way she’d come, towards an outcrop just visible on a neighboring peak through the trees.\n \n“That way. Use a compass.”\n \nShe stared at me quietly for a second, before turning around towards her pack. I turned too, heading back towards the rear of the cabin where I’d been skinning a deer before Hadrian’s sudden outburst interrupted me.\n \n“Hey, buddy.” I whirled around, seeing her standing next to her pack, hands on her hips. “What’s your name. Mine’s Anna.”\n \n“Conrad.”\n \nWe stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. She cocked her head slightly to one side.\n \n“What are you doing out here, Conrad?” She gestured with one hand at my cabin, at the small fields that were just beginning to grow in full. “What’s up?”\n \nI wanted to threaten her then, to make her leave me alone and go back to wherever she’d came from, to stop judging and asking questions. But it was obvious that Anna had gotten over whatever fear she had of me at first, and the question seemed to be simple curiosity.\n \n“Living.” I said, after a lengthy pause.\n \nShe liked that answer, it seemed. She sat down on her pack, holding her chin in her hands and gazing up through the forest at the clear blue sky.\n \n“Is it nice?” She asked, no longer staring at me. “Living out here, up here. Is it nice? I imagine it’s quiet. Is it quiet? Is it?” She spoke like someone with a hundred words all rushing to get out, the last few emerging unexpected like the last drip of water caught on a leaf once the rain had passed.\n \n“Usually.” I said, after another lengthy pause.\n \nShe laughed, then looked back at me with a sad smile. She dropped one hand to fiddle with the rope, twisting it through her fingers. “Can I stay here, just for a bit? I won’t be loud anymore.”\n \nI stared at her again, seeing sadness and hope in equal measures in her eyes. She looked away, looking towards the rock I’d pointed out earlier. The wind rustled the leaves, sending her short hair fluttering about her head before it settled back down.\n \n“You have a tent?”\n \nShe turned to look at me again, shock melting away as she broke into another smile, a real smile.\n \n“Yeah, yeah I do.”\n",
"I always wanted to get away. Even as a child, growing up in New York was always just... too much for me. The noise, the traffic, all those people. Behemoths of glass and steel constantly reminding me of my insignificance. Navigating through the throngs of people urgently going from Point A to Point B, and back again, for who knows what reason. While folks elsewhere wistfully listen to songs about leaving the countryside and moving to the Big Apple for 'the good life', I'd fantasize about packing my bags, and heading to some place more my style. Somewhere quiet, calm, a place where life goes at my pace.\n\nAnd I finally found it. It took some time, some planning, and a hell of a lot of scrimping and saving, but I eventually found my little plot of heaven. Nestled up in the Catskills, surrounded by the maple and birch trees, I knew I wasn't really that far away from my childhood home, but it felt worlds away. The move wasn't painless; I had no family to speak of that would stop me from going, but saying goodbye to my girlfriend Beth was one of the hardest things I have ever done. She was the love of my life, but she had to stay in the city to finish her residency and pay off her debts. I spent many agonizing nights figuring out what I really wanted, but in the end I knew that this was something I had to do, so that was that.\n\nWhen all was said and done, it was great to finally be all alone, to be able to sit down and focus on my music without the constant fear of disturbing my neighbors, and being interrupted in the middle of a recording by yelling or thumping or the occasional siren (I didn't exactly come from the nicest part of the city). Of course, I wasn't completely alone; Roscoe had been my closest friend for three years, so giving him to a friend or relative to take care of wasn't even an option. Constantly jumping and scampering and begging to go out for a run, I think he might like our new locale even more than I do.\n\nI used to go out occasionally. I'd head over to Woodstock or Esopus Creek, just to be around other people for a little bit. I guess I was somewhat lonely those first few years, even if I didn't like to admit it; after so long packed in like sardines, the taste of true solitude was an unfamiliar one. I would watch the families tubing down the creek together, children shrieking with glee. Or I'd amble through the town, observing people living their lives. But slowly, I felt less of a need to do that, as I grew more content with my situation, and came to terms with my new existence. It's been a long time since I've seen another person.\n\nWell, with one exception. A couple of days ago, I heard a knocking at my door. It was so faint at first that I mistook it for some animal bumping against my cabin frame, and I turned back to my composition. However, the next knocks were clear and resonant — it seems like my visitor gained some confidence. For a while I was genuinely confused; it had been so long since I had last interacted with anyone that I wasn't sure what to do. But after a brief moment, common sense took over. I collected myself, strode to the door, and opened it.\n\nBefore me stood a young woman. Short, with curly black hair, and a smile on her face betrayed by the uneasiness in her eyes. If I had ever settled down and gotten married like my mother always wanted me to, my daughter could have been this girl's age. For a while we both stood there, each entranced by the other. As foreign as she was to me, I'm sure coming face to face with a man isolated from the world for decades was no everyday event for her. I waited for her to speak first, curious as to what had brought another person to, quite literally, my neck of the woods.\n\n\"Hello, sir. My name is Emily, and I was hoping you could help me,\" came her words, every syllable wavering with uncertainty.\n\nI suddenly realized that she might think I don't know or remember English. Luckily for her, I've had the habit of talking to myself ever since I was little. That, along with the veritable tons of poetry and prose I brought with me, was enough to keep my English from deteriorating. Well, at least not too much.\n\n\"What could I help you with?\" I replied.\n\nVisibly relieved that her fellow conversationalist actually knew what she was saying, Emily jumped into it. \"Well, you see, I live nearby in Windham, and I knew that you were somewhere here but I didn't know exactly where. So I've been driving around, looking for anyone here that has actually seen you, or been here.\" As she spoke, she grew so excited that she started rocking on the balls of her feet. It reminded me of Roscoe, bounding through the woods during our walks in the hills.\n\n\"A man in Phoenicia said that he'd seen you there a long time ago, and there was a lady who remembered seeing you down by...\"\n\nI cut her off. \"But what were you looking for me for?\"\n\nThe rocking ceased. Emily's face went solemn, and she looked down. \"My mother died a week ago.\"\n\nIf I thought I was confused on how to act up until then, I was utterly baffled now. What should I do? Should I comfort her? What can I say?\n\nEmily could probably sense my confusion, because she looked back up and went on with, \"You don't need to say sorry or anything, it's not like it's your fault. You weren't the one driving drunk on a Wednesday afternoon. And before you ask, I've been doing fine given the circumstances. I've always hated how people ask things like 'Are you okay?' That's such a stupid question, of course I'm not okay!\" By the end of her little ramble she was getting angry, as if her pent-up pain and anger had found a crack and was streaming out.\n\nBut then she took a moment to compose herself, and continued. \"Anyways. The reason I was looking for you is that just before she died, my mom told me to go out and talk to you. I've always loved these hills, and I would always tell her that one day I would leave Windham and come live out here, with the trees and the sky and the solitude. Whenever I said that, she'd tell me that she knew someone who grew up in the city, and was never happy with where he was.\"\n\n\"She said that he left the city to go live his dream, leaving her behind. But she never forgot him, and soon afterwards she left as well, moving up to Windham. She saw a glimpse of what he had described, and decided she never wanted to leave. So she set up a practice there, and raised me there in that little town.\"\n\n\"And when the time came, she told me about the love of her life, who had given her a gift and then left to answer his calling. She said that he had the same calling that I did, and that I would make him proud. She told me that I would find you here, so here I am.\"\n\n\"And now that I'm here, I just have one question: do you have room for one more?\"",
"\"Where did you come from?\" I asked, carefully studying her.\n\n\"Nowhere,\" she mumbled evasively, her eyes downcast.\n\n\"That's pretty obvious, Honey. I'm surrounded by nowhere,\" I croaked, wincing at my own lack of articulation.\n\n\"I'm running away.\"\n\n\"From your parents? This isn't a safe place to wander. You could have been injured!\" Not good, I was going to scare her away if I kept up this tone.\n\n\"Not my parents. Them. They're going to hurt me!\" Fear flickered in her eyes.\n\n\"Hurt you?\" My chest tightened. Poor girl. \n\n\"Can I please come in?\" Her tone shifted from subtly to openly desperate. \"Please. You have to help me.\"\n\nI swung my door open a little wider and nodded inside. She shuffled in, eyes wide and surveying her surroundings with anticipation, as though she expected it to disappear at any moment. \n\n\"Would you like something to eat or drink?\" I asked, trying to remember the art of hosting, something that had admittedly fallen into disuse out here. \n\nHer face lit up, and I knew the answer before she ever opened her mouth. \"Yes, please,\" she breathed. \n\nI poked my head into my storeroom, grabbing a jar of jam and my freshly baked loaf of bread. As I always did, I caught myself glancing at my stores. For the first time in ten years, I was nearly due to go into town. Several of my supplies were running low. Perhaps I could refill when I took the girl where she needed to go.\n\nSoftly, I whistled to Emmie. Maybe the dog's steady presence would help the girl.\n\nAs I set the jam and bread down on the table, Emmie's scritch and shuffle across the ancient floorboards became audible. The girl leaped from her chair, blood draining from her face. She began backing toward the door. \n\n\"What's that noise?\" she whispered, a battle with panic evident on her face.\n\n\"Tha's just my dog, Emmie. I asked her to come out and say hi,\" I told her. The girl slowly relaxed, stopping her movement toward the door. \n\nWhat exactly had this child been through? \n\nIn moments she was on the floor, face pressed into Emmie's soft fur, arms wrapped tightly around her neck. I heard muffled sobs. Emmie, emotionally intelligent as she was, stayed perfectly still, huddling close to the hurting human.\n\nI knew she would need a moment, so I began to heat tea water on my wood stove. Meanwhile, my mind raced. It had been so long since I interacted with another human that my brain was in overdrive accomplishing even the simplest social tasks.\n\nI glanced out my window as I grabbed a cloth napkin from a drawer. Another beautiful day in the Rockies. Sunlight and blue sky glittered through gently swaying pines. I turned back to the girl, noticing that the tears were abating. \n\n\"The tea will be ready in a moment, but you can start with the bread if you like.\" I tried to smile, the attempt failing as I saw her face. \n\n\"What brought you here?\" I whispered, pierced by the hopelessness of her expression.\n\n\"Don't you know?\" she asked, her voice nearly lost in the sound of the wind through a crack I hadn't gotten around to sealing. \"Haven't you seen it?\" she shuddered involuntarily. \n\n\"Seen what?\"\n\n\"Them,\" she breathed. \n\nAt the edge of my hearing, I became aware of low moans, distant snarling. Emmie's hair bristled and she growled. The girl hushed her sharply. \n\n\"I'm taking you to town,\" I tried to sound firm, unshakeable, but something deep inside was quaking.\n\n\"What town?\" she whispered. \"There aren't any towns. Not anymore.\"\n\nI felt my jaw drop. I had known I was on the outer edge of society, but...how could I miss something like that?\n\n\"It's all gone,\" she began to cry softly again. \"The world is dead.\"\n\n\"Dead? Then who is chasing you?\" If my mind had been in overdrive before, then perhaps it was now entering full meltdown. \"Gone?\" I whispered under my breath, the sheer magnitude of the word nearly drowning me in my own thoughts.\n\nI came out of my thoughts to see the girl staring out the window. She pointed. \"They are.\"\n\nA man and a woman shuffled out of the forest, something wrong about their gait. \n\n\"Who are they?\" I asked, though some part of me screamed the answer. \n\n\"They....they...\" she sniffled, choking on her words. \"They were my parents.\" \n\n\"What do you mean, 'were?'\" I pressed, the sickness in my stomach causing my voice to shake. \n\n\"The world is dead.\" The girl repeated somberly. \"The whole world. And it wants to take us with it.\"\n\n\n"
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[WP] Sitting around a long conference room table, top payed film execs are waiting to hear the next big pitch; Yours. | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"So, Lisa,\" the man at the head of the table leaned forward, pointing his fountain pen at me. \"We are very excited to hear your pitch for our next big children's adventure film.\"\n\n\"Uh...what?\" I stammered. \"Children's film?\"\n\n\"Yes, your masterpiece for 8-13 year olds!\" He exclaimed. \"Your agent has been talking it up for weeks!\"\n\nMy mind raced. I'd been so stoked when Joanne had got me this meeting...but I'd been prepping an erotic romantic thriller, not a Disney adventure! I opened my mouth to say as much, but Joanne's warning of \"don't screw this up for me, this is a once in a lifetime meeting!\" rang through my head. I swallowed...and kicked my storyboards further under the table.\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen,\" I started, \"or should I say boys and girls? For aren't we all children at heart? There are days where I sit at my desk and wonder, 'how did I get here?' I feel like I'm 16, still figuring everything out, still asking questions that I'm supposed to know the answer to...\" I trailed off in what I hoped was a nostalgic manner, when I was really just looking for a proper beginning to my 'pitch'. \n\nThe executives weren't giving me an inch; they were staring at me, stone-faced and sipping coffee. One guy at the end of the table looked like he was texting...or staring at his crotch, you never knew with these Hollywood types.\n\n\"So there's this girl,\" I started again, wildly reinventing my script on the fly. \"Priscilla McIlroy. The movie opens with her prowling through the jungle, on an exotic safari. She's all alone, and we think she's going to be maimed by a jaguar, but she's actually only playing a video game. She's sad that she's all alone, so she heads outside to find an adventure or the corner store, whichever one comes first.\" I winked playfully.\n\n\"Where are her parents?\" A woman next to the flipchart gave me a highly disapproving look as she posed her question. Thankfully, I actually knew how to answer this question.\n\n\"First rule of children's literature and movies,\" I said. \"You have to kill the parents for the kids to have any fun. Harry Potter, Bambi, Series of Unfortunate Events, Lion King...it's a proven formula. So Priscilla is the heir to a giant fortune and lives alone in a huge mansion with her faithful servants.\" She nodded, but didn't look convinced. \n\n\"Priscilla thinks about joining online dat-\" I stopped myself. Old screenplay, old screenplay! \"Sorry, she thinks about joining 'MyFriendBook', but decides not to, which turns out to be the most important decision of her life.\" I waved my hands mysteriously. \"During her walk to the store, she finds a magical bobblehead that tells her the future and a puppy.\"\n\nA thin man leaned forward, pushing up his glasses. \"Does the puppy have magical powers?\"\n\n\"No, the puppy is a puppy. What kid doesn't want a puppy?\" The man sat back in his chair, pouting slightly. I probably shouldn't be so snippy with these executives, but too late now. \"Priscilla meets an orphan boy at the slurpee machine, and he says he's going to send her a MyFriendBook request, but the bobblehead warns her not to accept it. Turns out, the evil MyFriendBook company is brainwashing everyone through an algorithm embedded in the app, and now only Priscilla can stop it!\"\n\nI let the room soak in the pitch while I scrambled for a 'piece de resistance' to cap off my story. Some of the execs were nodding; one woman was scribbling furiously in a notebook. However, I sensed that I didn't have the entire room yet, seeing as how that guy was still staring at his phone and/or crotch.\n\n\"Priscilla rescues Chris from his orphanage, and enlists the help of her trusty butler to travel to the big city to confront the evil corporation. The bobblehead casts a magic spell, giving Priscilla an army of animated characters that will be able to slip into the internet and disable the algorithm.\" Oh man, my imagination was in overdrive now. \"They free the world from the clutches of MyFriendBook and everyone celebrates with sprinkled donuts and soda pop! And we find out that Priscilla's parents weren't really dead, but were software engineers captured by MyFriendBook, so we get a big tearful reunion. Priscilla's parents adopt Chris, so he gets a happy ending too.\" I pause expectantly.\n\n\"Hmm,\" the head executive was tapping his chin. \"What would you say is the overarching theme of your movie?\"\n\n\"It's a highly complex film,\" I said, with a hint of condescension to attempt to make them think I'd really thought this through. \"I would say that this plays along with our dependence on technology, making friends wherever you go, and never losing hope.\" I pretended to look thoughtful. \"I mean, there are so many lessons that can be learned from this movie. And in the end...aren't we all looking for friends to share our sprinkled donuts with?\"\n\nThe woman who had asked about the parents at the beginning looked at her coworkers. \"I can see the merchandise line now,\" she said, sketching on her pad of paper. \"There are some cool logo ideas, I see donuts and a digital code element...\" \n\n\"I'm not completely sold,\" the head executive said. \"I feel like it's missing something.\"\n\n\"It's a MUSICAL!\" I practically yelled. \"It's totally a musical, did I forget to mention that? I'm in the middle of writing a really great battle song for Priscilla and her army, it's really going to be this generation's 'Let It Go'.\" \n\nThe entire table sat up straight - even texting man looked up at me. \"Yes!\" The head executive exclaimed. \"I can see it!\" He pulled his business card out of his pocket and slid it down the table to me. \"Have the first draft of the lyrics for the battle song to me on Friday and we will put together the official pitch to the board.\"\n\nThe second I hit the street, I was on the phone with Joanne. \"Dude, what the heck?!\" I yelled. \"We did it, but why did they think I was pitching a kid's film?\"\n\n\"Oh my God,\" she said. \"You didn't pitch the-\"\n\n\"Nope, but let's just say that if a critic realizes that this kid's film is based off of a thriller where Tinder is brainwashing people and a porn star saves the world with the help of a male escort, my creativity might be called into question...\" I got into my car and just sat there for a moment. \"Please let no one ever find out what the bobblehead was going to be in my original script.\"\n\n\n\nI've finally started my own subreddit for my writing - check out more at r/DieKarrotte :-)"
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"1496245744",
"1496261995"
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[WP] A class about the mechanics of magic, set in modern society. | 9 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Jack adjusted his collie one last time as he nervously looked through the curtain at the lecture hall. It was completely full, hell the back row was also full of professors. \n\n\"You'll be fine.\" Lily responded. \n\n\"Yah easy for you to say. You're not going to be up there.\" He replied. \n\n\"Oh come on. This is just like when you were presenting your dissertation a few months ago.\" \n\n\"To half the amount of people.\" He grunted. \n\nLily approached him and straightened his tie one last time. She clasped his shoulders looked him straight in the eyes and said, \"You'll be fine.\" She smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. \n\nJack took a deep breath and opened the door. He walked out onto the front stage in front of the massive blackboards looking at the room. Seated from bottom up were Adepts to some of the Schools very own distinguished professors. A silence fell upon the room as everyone settled down and looked towards Jack. \n\n\"Good morning everyone,\" he began, \"before I really get started I'd like to ask you all a question.\"\n\nEveryone casually looked at each other for a moment waiting in anticipation. \n\n\"What is magic? Or more specifically what is the rule of magic? The meachnics if you will.\" \n\nThe entire room felt silent as no one dared to take the chance and answer the question. Until one brave youth at the bottom raised his hand. \n\n\"Yes?\" Jack pointed at the Adept. \n\n\"To do things beyond the simple bounds of reality. To make things happen.\" He replied. \n\nJack paused and then he smiled. The poor kid began sweating. \"Yes, that is true but it isn't quite the whole truth.\" \n\nAnother youth emboldened by the previous answer raised his hand to answer. Jack nodded his head at him. \n\n\"To help search for meaning. A truth of the world and help us answer questions of life, death and reality.\" \n\nJack chuckled. \"A philosophical approach. Not bad.\" \"Here let me clean things up a bit. Do we control magic or does magic control us?\" \n\nSilence answered him. Until one of the professors at the back raised his hand. Jack motioned at him. \n\n\"Control is subjective. We command magic to perform certain task but our control is limited to our knowledge of magic therefore our control is limited by the very thing we wish to control.\" \n\n\"True.\" Jack replied. \"So if one were to gain more control then would have interact with magic more. And that is where we arrive at the crux of the problem. Magic today is taught through language. This language is written in your textbooks and prescribed in your classes. Spells and summons you memorize to the letter and rewrite onto your exams. Well if magic is found in language then why do we have to memorize language? After all is language not fluid, if using different tones or words do I not change the meaning of the sentence?\" \n\nHe turned towards the board and tapped it until the words 'Punch the guy in the face.' appeared. \n\n\"Magic works very much in the same. Here I'm telling someone to punch some else in the face. If I said 'Hit him.' Is it not the same general meaning?\" Jack paused to look at the crowd. He then went over to the nearest student and asked, \"May I borrow your textbook?\" \n\nThe kid nodded and handed him his textbook. Jack noted that he was an Elemental Mage.\n\n\"Now if I were to flip to Chapter 2 and pick a random electrokenisis spell here.\" Jack went over to the black board and picked up a chalk and began writing. While he wrote he also spoke, \"*<Oh Spirit of Lightning reach out and bind thyself to bring constraint to it>*, everyone knows this spell. Simply shock and paralyze someone momentarily. Only problem is it's kind of a mouthful. Can you imagine? As you walk down an alley and someone holds you at gun point, you think he'll let you ramble on for 30, 20 seconds getting a simple paralysis spell ready? No, the bugger would have shot you.\" Jack paused and turned back to the crowd. \"Yet if I were to change it slightly but still imply the same effect then it is possible I can save myself from getting mugged. *<Just be paralyzed>*\" As he spoke those words a bolt fired off from his fingertip arcing across the rooming and falling just short of the first row. \"If I added one more verse I could make it stronger or if I said *<Wash they're hair over there>*.\" \n\nAll the male professors at the back row suddenly found their hair soaked wet. With a startled cry some stood up whole the entire room was filled with some wry chuckling. \n\n\"You see,\" Jack replied chuckling. Magic is not quite the study of truths or is it a tool to perform tasks. Magic is the study of cognition of mankind. I can change what 'Magic' hears simply by understanding what I really want. If I want the entire back row to be flooded then all I have to do is command. If I want to give some a shock I need to understand the very nature of what I want. If I said *<Nuke this place>*.\"\n\nThe entire auditorium suddenly spring to their feet as Jack stiffled a laugh. \n\n\"As you can see nothing happened. Because I didn't understand the theory behind nuking the place. I don't know how atoms can be split and so much energy is released that I'd destroy this place. Simply knowing is not enough, if you want control to just understand, and through understanding you achieve control and through control you can search for the answers to life or you could simply learn to give yourself a quick bath without moving.\"",
"Professor Harrison Lee walked into the room at 7:13, wishing for the hundredth time that the university would finally eliminate the 7:30 slot for classes. Only a handful of students bothered to come earlier than he did. Most sat slumped in their chairs, using the hard and immensely small desks as pillows. A small group exchanged a few languid words before giving up and staring at the front of the room. One diligent student was reading the textbook, or at least pretending to.\n\nProfessor Lee set his bag down next to the podium and turned on the projector before sitting down and fiddling with his phone. He fired off a few quick emails before looking up.\n\n7:20 struck. The class was growing and starting to show signs of intelligent life. Almost half the seats were filled, and the occasional student was clacking away on their shiny new laptops. A low babble filled the room, and every now and again a tinkling laugh rose above the chatter.\n\n7:28. A last minute rush of students came into the room, but the 230 seat lecture hall was mostly filled. In the back left of the room, a small circle of students had formed. A young man in the center was trying to impress a small clique of girls by making sparks fly from his fingertips. It wasn't quite working.\n\nAt 7:31, Professor Lee moved to the podium, and the class got quiet. \n\n\"Wake up, ladies and gents. This is An Introduction to Mechanics of Magic for non-commercial magic majors, course number MAGC 121. If you're not supposed to be here, now's the time to leave.\"\n\nA skinny boy near the front turned bright red and quickly left the room as the class chuckled quietly.\n\n\"Since this is the first day, we'll quickly go over the syllabus before we get started. I know,\" he said as his students groaned, \"I know. I'll make it quick. \n\n\"These two,\" he motioned two students that had gotten up from the front row, \"are your TAs for the semester. Guys, if you could give a wave when I call your name, that'd be helpful. They are...\" He referenced the syllabus in front of him. \"James Clark and Mo So Min. They'll be passing out copies of the syllabus, so just take one and pass the stack along.\n\n\"My name is Harrison Lee. I worked hard on my doctorate, so I prefer Professor Lee, but Doctor Lee also works. For those who are interested, my thesis was on patterns in macrotransmutation of third-order metal alloys in the presence of significant amounts of non-metal molecules. There's a link to my paper on my webpage, which you can find right at the top of the page with my email address. Office hours are Monday and Wednesday at 1:30, and I'm willing to schedule something else if that doesn't work for you.\"\n\nHe picked up a book and showed the cover to the class. \"Our textbook is technically Foundations of Magic by Binns, Brown, et al, fifth edition. If you don't have it yet, you can get it online or at the bookstore. Legally, I can't mention if it is possible to find the fourth edition online for free, but if you happen to find a pdf, you might find that it will work just as well as the fifth.\" The class laughed.\n\n\"Attendance is optional but good luck passing without it. The rest of this is mostly schedules, grading scales, two exams and a final, et cetera, so on and so forth, Bob's your uncle. Any questions?\"\n\n\"Sir?\" A bespectacled girl in the fourth row raised her hand. \"What about the lab portion?\"\n\n\"Good question. I have no control over the lab, and the coordinator has failed to give me a copy of the materials, so you probably know more than I do. However, if it's like recent years, you'll probably be analyzing one or two simple cantrips, like what the gentleman in the back was unsuccessfully trying to woo a few of you with.\" More laughter, and the culprit flushed a bit, looking down at his desk.\n\nProfessor Lee looked at the clock. \"We've got only twenty minutes left, and I'm not going to take up all of that, so bear with me while I rush through this introduction. This is all of the stuff in chapter one, for those of you keeping track.\" He started to flip through slides of a presentation. Half of the class pulled out notebooks and pens; the other half stared into space as their eyes glazed over.\n\n\"Now, we throw around the word magic a lot without any context. People have struggled to define it for centuries, but most scholars today agree on this: 'Magic is the field that deals with any and all *human manipulations* of matter and spacetime that cannot fit into the current models of physics.' That means that 'magical' beasts are not actually magic, no matter what your BIOL 142 professors tell you.\" A few of the students who had heard of this small dispute laughed.\n\n\"Rather, they fall under the category of animate phenomenology, which also upsets the philosophers. As you can tell, we magicians are a contentious lot. To wit, in the last five minutes, we've upset physicists, biologists, and philosophers, and we're just getting started.\n\n\"Back to the subject at hand. Generally speaking, magic falls into a few neat categories with a handful of exceptions. The basic categories (and you'll want to know these) are destruction, transmutation, telekinetics, telepathy, conjuration, and illusion. A lot of people combine the last two, but our textbook does not. Another note of interest is that the major difference between the fourth and fifth edition is that in the fields of telekinetics and telepathy are just referred to as telepathy in the fourth edition.\"\n\n\"So, definitions. I'll just cover the layman's definitions for now. Conjuration is essentially creation of what wasn't previously extent. For example-\" Professor Lee focused and muttered under his breath. A block of wood appeared in front of him.\n\n\"This wood was not here before. Correct?\" The class laughed and confirmed his assertion. \"Now, illusion.\" He focused some more. A second block appeared in the air above the first and fell on top of it, creating a loud clattering sound.\n\n\"Would the lady in the green shirt please come forward? Yes, you. Please pick up that second block.\" The student he pointed out reached to touch the block, but her hand passed straight into it. \"Illusion is creation of visual and auditory effects.\n\n\"Telepathy is pretty straightforward, but also the most difficult. I'm personally not any good at it, but I can tell you that this young lady is not at all impressed or surprised by my illusion.\" The class, including the girl that had resumed her seat, chuckled.\n\n\"Telekinetics is similar, but we've found recently that it's an entirely different process. Basically, it refers to movement of existing objects without physical contact. Exempli gratia-\" The block lifted off the ground, circled over the heads of the students, and returned to the floor in front of the podium. The class clapped politely, and Professor Lee bowed sarcastically. \"I know, I'm fantastic. Tell your parents.\" They laughed again.\n\n\"Transmutation, the oldest field, previously known as alchemy. Chemists hate us for this one.\" He looked at the block, and it turned into gold. The class gasped.\n\n\"Obviously, this could be very profitable if it weren't so difficult. I'm one of the world's best transmutators, if I can be so bold, and it took a magnificent amount of both training and effort to just turn the nanometer thick layer of that block into gold. It's easier with more similar materials, according to the aptly named Principle of Similarity, but we'll get to that later.\n\n\"Finally, destruction.\" The professor wrenched his face into a terrible and frightening visage, and the block exploded loudly into dust that floated softly to where the block was.\n\n\"This is the most dangerous and well regulated branch for good reason. It is highly volatile and is very difficult to do unless the magician is feeling strong negative emotions, which has its obvious drawbacks. Most of the conflict between magic users and ordinary citizens arises when a magician allows those feelings to twist them and change them for the worst.\n\n\"Let that serve as a warning to all of you. What we do here is neither safe nor easy. A quarter of you will be incapable of doing anything but the simplest tricks, and a further quarter will not even manage those. Among the half that is left, mutilations and deaths will occur, and most of you will face discrimination of some sort. I'm sure most of you remember the Columbus riots about ten years ago.\" A few students nodded grimly. All of them looked nervous.\n\n\"And on that grim note, we are adjourned.\" The students started to pack their bags and shuffle out. Professor Lee raised his voice. \"We'll start chapter 2 next week, so try to get your books by then, because there WILL be homework!\"\n\nHe looked over the room, which was mostly empty, and the line of students that were advised to talk to every professor they see. He felt a strange mix of satisfaction and trepidation.\n\nAnother year had [begun.](https://www.reddit.com/r/mpqeg/) "
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[WP]"Let's eat Dave!" "You mean 'let's eat, Dave'" "No. No I don't." | 24 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"“You know, there is one way out of this.” “What? How?” “We could... Let’s… Let’s eat Dave. It’s our only hope!”\n\nI can’t believe it’s come to this. How did it go so downhill, so fast? It all started on our graduation trip to Peru, up in the mountains. It was just us, the lads. There was Matt, who had the wits sharp enough to cut through an armadillo on steroids. There was Chris, a big guy, but a big softie at heart. Impossible to forget about Daniel, the one full of questions, so full of energy. And of course, Dave the Brave. Why the brave? Because he could chug 2 pints of beer, and still go hit on some girls, no problem. This guy was unstoppable. Even his body was like that, unstoppable. He had the build of a Rugby player. Everything went to according to plan until we got on the plane. It was a smaller aircraft, maybe holding about 30-40 people. I noticed something was wrong as soon as I stepped onto the plane, hearing a long creak as it felt like the entire plane shuddered under my added weight, yet I quickly shrugged it off. As we sat down, we did what any normal group of 18-year-olds would do, try to entertain themselves in the stupidest of ways. Matt was trying to spark an argument between Chris and Daniel, Dave was just enjoying his music, and I was messing around with my chair and table. I went to put the tray down, as I always do, you know, just in case this plane has some completely different tray than every other plane tray, but as soon as I pulled it down, it came clean off its hinges. I showed the guys and we all laughed and just made fun of it, and me, for breaking it, again shrugging off the now clear red flags. After the plane took off, it wasn’t long before we really got some altitude. As we were over the mountains, I could hear something. As I was sitting relatively far up ahead, I could overhear the pilots, and those Spanish classes definitely helped. They said something “Sudden temperature change” and “Extreme cold”, but my Spanish was not advanced enough to understand anything else. I quickly took my mind off it and joined in with Matt, Chris and Daniel. Next thing I know, I heard a metallic screeching noise, like as if someone was holding a ceiling fan in place while it tried to spin. Now where in a plane could there be a ceiling fan? Oh right, the propellers. Not a few seconds later, and the captain is screaming in Spanish, and I being the only one in the group to understand him, proceed to inform my friends of our current predicament, even though I’m pretty sure that, us starting to rapidly descend, was a bit of a giveaway.\n\nIt was all over in flash, my memory went blank. The only thing I remember was a loud boom and blinding white light. I thought I died. But no, I wake up to me, in my seat with the safety belt on. Thanks for keeping me safe. I look around, and I realize there isn’t much plane to secure myself to anyways. The cockpit is gone, all I can see is pieces of it. I look around for my friends slowly, as my body is still rebooting and in shock. I see Matt move around a little, he’s still alive, good. Daniel has seen better days, but there isn’t too much blood, so he could survive. Chris is already out and trying to help, like the good person he is. He barely has any injuries. What about… Dave? Oh, Dave. Nobody noticed that he was asleep during most of the flight. He must’ve only woken up when it was too late, he didn’t have time to go into the safety positions or anything. His body lie still on its seat. Some other passengers made it out too. After the initial shock has passed and we somewhat gained some composure, we had to come up with some plan to survive. We had divided ourselves on tasks. My friends and I were assigned to go out searching for help.\n\nAfter a few hours, we come back. All the survivors are gone. We look for foot prints, tracks, trash, anything but to no prevail. Dave is still there, sitting, waiting. We try to gather up as much food that survived from the plane as possible, but there was only a few pretzel packs. This plane was not meant to hold much food. As the night drew, we had a few options. We were cold, hungry, and in shock. We all knew that we needed to get food in us soon or else we wouldn’t make the night. We all were thinking it, but no one wanted to say it. So I did.\n\n“You know, there is one way out of this.” “What? How?” “We could... Let’s… Let’s eat Dave. It’s our only hope!”\n\n(Hey guys, long time lurker on reddit, but never had the courage to post anything, let alone a whole story. This my first proper story, and I'm planning on writing one a day. Any constructive criticism or tips would be greatly appreciated :D)\n"
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[WP] A person on death row, with their last words before execution, sets themselves free. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"The gently squelch of a cream-colored sponge against her head sends a shiver of goosebumps down her shoulders and into her fingers. Water bubbles out from the sponge's pores as a coarse hand presses it firmly against the circle of skin in the center of her scalp. Long strands of smooth, shiny hair stroke her shoulders. Her head hangs limply. Bluish-black tatoos outline tribal patters on her arms and hands. Eyes, glassy and unfocused, stare into nothingness as a leather strap is fastened brutishly under her chin. Clink. The left leg of her orange trousers is lifted and a curved piece of metal is attached below the knee. Hands remove themselves from her body and cross in front of the wide, navy-clad chest of a now-erect figure. Inhale. Exhale. \"Amanda Linklater,\" the figure's voice breathes. Stentorian. Echoing. In three rows against the back wall, a dozen stony faces twitch as they are awakened from their tense distraction. Her head remains motionless. Two dozen black beads stare. The rustling of a pack of nervous tissues conceals a tender whimper emanating from the back row. \"Amanda Linklater,\" the voice says, \"do you have any last words?\"\n\nFive meaty, unhesitating fingers tighten on the handle of an oversized knife switch as two black beads join the rest in staring. A nose inhales bubbly air through streaming tears. Apathetic chests breathe evenly. A leg in tights quivers.\n\n\"My last word,\" her head rises as she hisses through chapped lips, \"my last word -- for I have but one to share with you --\"\n\nSeated nostrils sharply suck in gasps of air. Crossed arms tighten.\n\n\"My last word is -- covfefe.\""
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1,
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"1496271583",
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[WP] A group of scientists discover that the universe is a simulation. | 9 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I suppose it started with the end of pi. It took years and years and years, but eventually we found it. Trillions of hours of manpower, over 60 quintillion digits, but we got there.\n\nThe last number of pi brought the world to its knees. Everyone knew pi was an irrational number. It didn't have an end. The only thing this could mean is that Earth, the Moon, the Sun, the stars and everything we knew was fake. A mirage. A simulation.\n\nThe first reaction was terror. Screaming, riots, fire, all the time, everywhere. It was quite interesting, yet at the same time, extremely expected.\n\nThe second reaction, about a week after the fear set in, was the crime wave. The entire world fell into disarray as people stole, killed, wrecked, because it didn't matter. It was all a simulation, so what was anyone going to care?\n\nThere was a third reaction, but only from a few types of people. Hackers. Speed runners. Glitchers. People like me, trying to find cracks in the system. However, I wasn't like them.\n\nI could never be like them.\n\nIt was my mission to put back the world. The first step of that was hacking the system. Once I figured out how to see and manipulate the code, I could fix everything.\n\nI could bring her back.",
"\"So you're saying we are coded into some type of alternate reality?\" John said.\n\n\"Yup, and using this handy, dandy connection we can plug directly into the code, and update it.\" \n\n\"That's not a toupee or transplant is it?\"\n\n\"Nope, just rewrote a little section of code. I just need to know your birth day, your full name and your social security number or license number. Seriously, that's all I need.\" Tom the scientist pulled out what looked to be a simple power cord, complete withe three sharp prongs at the end, and then proceeded to stick them into the ground. They were standing in John's nondescript back yard. The sun was drawing low on the horizon, the sky turning shades of orange and red. \n\n\"So if I give you my credentials, you could change anything about me?\"\n\n\"Yup, in fact, I already found your creds on some paperwork at the lab. Feeling a bit thinner today?\"\n\n\"As a matter of fact, I dropped like two waist sizes while I slept. That was you?\"\nTom smiled, flashing his now perfectly white teeth. John continued, \"you trimmed down some weight yourself didn't you. And you added what two inches to your height.\"\n\nTom smiled, \"that's not the only thing I added inches too.\"\n\n\"Oh my God, you enlarged your dick, didn't you? Christ, we are going to be rich!\"\n\n\n",
"The soft humming of the fans and the clacking of a single keyboard were the only sounds that broke the silence in the large research lab. My team of 60 sat in their chairs, all of us staring at the large tv screen we had set up at one end of the room. Over 10 years of work was about to come to fruition. We had run many small tests on different parts of the system while they weren’t networked, but this would be the moment that we finally powered up the entire network at the same time.\n\nBev was the one typing at the computer. She was lead programmer and had been instrumental in the implementation of the project that I had staked my entire livelihood on. All my millions made from game development had been funneled directly into this project, but if it was successful we would all go down in history.\n\nI looked around at my team, all of them staring at the screen, no one talking or even moving. Scientists and engineers from all walks of life were staring, mesmerized, as the various systems powered on. Geologists, Biologists, Physicists, Computer engineers, civic engineers, anthropologists. Besides me, everyone in this room had multiple PHDs. They were quite literally the smartest people in the world, and they were all in one room together working on the same project.\n\nThinking back, it didn’t start this ambitious. 12 years ago, I released a game called “Alternate Life.” I had worked on it in my parent’s basement for years and didn’t expect much on release. I would have been happy with a small dedicated user base. I got extremely lucky when a popular youtuber decided to pick up the game, and suddenly it exploded in popularity. I added multiplayer functions after hiring a small dev team and my game spread all around the world. Everyone had an Alternate Life. My company grew to be larger than any other social media or game company in the world, bigger than Facebook, than World of Warcraft, than anything that had come before and has come since. \n\nI wanted to do more though. I got bored of releasing update after update to my game. That is when I realized the best way to make a sequel to Alternate Life. We would make a new type of simulation game. A game that perfectly simulates real life down to its smallest detail. \n\nThere were many roadblocks along the way. Most people said it couldn’t be done, but I didn’t hire those people. I found the most visionary, the most passionate people in the world, and most importantly, the most intelligent, then I paid them an exorbitant amount of money to join my team. My funding has dwindled as Alternate Life has reached the end of its life cycle, but it won’t matter after today.\n\nBev sat back in her chair and let out a deep breath. It was the first break in the silence for what seemed like hours. She turned back to face the rest of the researchers and said, “This is it everyone, pre-alpha test 1 of Alternate Reality. Does anyone have anything to say before I start the simulation?” She looked over at me in particular, so I stood up and faced the group of nervous geniuses. \n\n“Listen,” I said, trying to get over my fear of public speaking, “It has been 10 long years of trials and hardships. Many of you have given up careers, social lives, and even your own health for the success of this project. It will not be in vain. When this simulation runs, we will not only prove wrong everyone who doubted us, but we will have created something truly new and unique. We will go down in human history as the ones who proved, without a doubt, that not only is the universe deterministic, but that humans are strong enough, intelligent enough, and resolute enough to spit in the face of this universe. We will seize control of our destiny today, and with that control will come true freedom the likes of which humans have never known!” \n\nI slipped the cards I had prepared the night before back into my pocket. After a moment of silence everyone began to cheer. We all moved in around the screen, all of us wanting a good view of what was going to happen. \n\nI turned to Bev and, after resting a hand on her shoulder, said, “Flip the switch.”\n\nThe hum of the thousands of servers throughout the underground complex was overwhelming. For a moment the ground rumbled as the generators kicked into overdrive and the AC units kicked into high gear to keep the massive server farm cool. The lights dimmed slightly, but no one looked away from the screen. We had accounted for the electrical and heating needs properly, and all the units were hand fabbed in our facility. We knew they would hold. \n\nThe screen flickered, and after a moment, an image appeared. No, a video. Of a group of scientists huddled around a screen, also with a video of a group of scientists around a screen. The images were repeating infinitely. After a moment, I realized that those were the same scientists that were in the room with me. I turned around, looking for the camera.\n\n“All right team very funny, but we don’t need pranks right now, not on our big day. Whoever set up the camera fess up and fix it so we can test the simulation.” He said, looking at the group around him. Everyone was looking in the same general direction, looking for the camera. Except for Bev. She was staring at the screen, slackjawed. \n\n“Bev what’s wrong. Were you the one who set this up?” I asked. \n\n“No Boss. Um. I’m not sure how to say this, but…” She gulped and looked at her small monitor that was showing diagnostic screens. “This is the simulation.”\n\nI looked closer. No, it couldn’t be. The group perfectly mimicked what was happening in the real world. He could see himself leaning in closer to look at the screen. Wait. Something was off. Normally in an infinite scenario with a camera there is movement lag due to the latency from the camera to the display. But this was like looking through a window. Even the screen within the picture was instantly updating. \n\n“Try spawning a cube in the room. That will prove if this is the simulation or not,” said Danashri, a computer engineer. \n\nBev began typing frantically, and with a few commands and a couple clicks, she spawned a box in the air behind the scientists. \n\nI heard a loud thump behind me as the box hit the ground.\n\n---\n\n^^^Read ^^^more ^^^of ^^^my ^^^work ^^^at ^^^/r/PenithceaChronicles/\n",
"Part One\n--------------------------\n“Do we publish?”\n\nThe question hung in the room. \n\n\n\nThat question had undoubtedly haunted each of us in its own way over the years, burrowing its way almost impossibly deep into our psyches, affecting not only how we saw the world as individuals but also how we approached the research. We had worked, in the beginning, with bright eyes and nervous energy, eager to prove ourselves and demonstrate the validity of our theories. The hypothesis was nothing new to any of us and was something that had even been discussed on the evening news from time to time. We could thank Mr. Musk for that...\n\nWhat had started in the first months as a vigorous, almost frenetic exercise in the rigors of fundamental physics and mathematics gradually turned into years of mechanical data gathering and verification. The data came slowly at first…just a piece here and there, sometimes on purpose, sometimes by chance, but as our techniques refined and as our budget grew the data ballooned from insufficient to overwhelming before any of us had a chance to process the implications. This theory, this thing that we had all spent so long thinking over and idly pondering with something like a sense of forward looking nostalgia, had turned from a funky idea that no one other than a few rebellious Ph.D candidates from some Podunk backwoods university would be stupid enough to actually study, into what would undoubtedly be viewed as the single most important scientific discovery in all of history. \n\n“Do we publish?” Dr. Liu asked again. \n\n“How can we not?” Dr. Schroder replied quietly, breaking the group’s silence. Always the cautious one, he typically avoided making any definitive statements or assertions, often preferring to simply offer his data and arguments and allowing others to draw their own conclusions. Today though, he seemed resolute in his decision and willing to go to war for it. \n\n“We have not only discovered, but have proven beyond the shadow of a doubt, the only universal truth that has ever mattered. We are nothing. We are the playthings of a superior being. We have no agency, no true personhood, no meaning. Descartes be damned. I may think, but I certainly, most definitely, most definitively, am not.” It was as many words as I’d ever heard Dr. Schroder speak in one go since meeting him all those years ago, though the cynicism was nothing new. \n\nThe room grew quiet again. Dr. Schroder looked around at each of us nervously, likely self-conscious of how much he had spoken, wondering if we were all judging him for it. \n\nThe moments stretched, tightened. Finally, Dr. Jennings brought a new thought forward. \n\n“Does it matter?” She asked, genuinely searching. \n\n“What do you mean, does it matter?” Dr. Schroder replied with an excessive dose of patronizing sarcasm. “Of course it…!”\n\n“No, you misunderstand me,” Dr. Jennings interrupted as Dr. Schroder’s eyes began to bulge, “obviously the discovery matters, what I mean to say is, does the nature of our existence matter? Whether we are quarks and gluons and bosons and fermions and all manner of other messy particles, or whether we are simply patterns of energy on some unknown substrate acting in accordance to rules we do not fully understand…does that matter?” Some of us still did not understand what Dr. Jennings was trying to imply. \n\n“Regardless of the substrate, regardless of whether we were created with intent or are an infinitesimal accident of the boundless machinations of the cosmos…does it matter? Our perceptive experience is not altered by the confirmation of our original hypothesis. The sun will continue to feel warm, winter will remain cold. Death will still cause us to grieve and a child’s laughter will continue to make me smile. Dr. Schroder will continue to be…Dr. Schroder.” We all considered her words, and her meaning. Dr. Schroder’s forehead vein pulsed. A few brief moments passed.\n\n“Regardless of the consistency of Dr. Schroder’s continued curmudgeonliness,” Dr. Lockhart responded, fully aware and smugly confident of his incorrect English, “or the continued warmth of the sun, I do not believe that any of us can reasonably assert the non-applicability of any supposed creator’s intent to our decision.” \n\n“If,” he continued, “well…I guess it’s not an if anymore, is it? Since we have proven our simulatory nature…,” he was really on a roll with the made-up words today, “we can no longer avoid the question of intent. In light of Dr. Jennings argument, we must concede that regardless of any of our individual interpretations of this information and how we do or do not choose to deal with it personally, there will be people who wish to continue living their lives, feeling the warmth of the sun and making babies cry and all that.” \n\n“With respect to those individuals who wish to maintain some measure of stability to their existence, we are morally obligated to ask whether or not there may be an intent behind the simulation that we find ourselves in as its presence and nature could impact the continuation of our existence.” Universal agreement could be seen amongst those of us in the lecture hall, obviously if we were created for an intended purpose we should at least make some attempt to understand that purpose before potentially compromising it. \n\n“Now, as it specifically relates to the decision we have before us, I believe there to be three possible answers to the question of intent.” Most of us were eager to hear Dr. Lockhart’s thoughts, though Dr. Schroder still seemed to be sending up a cloud of steam from his forehead. Dr. Lockhart continued. \n\n“Scenario one: There is no intent. Though a simulation, we came about accidentally, were abandoned, or are subject to some other equally implausible explanation. In this scenario, our actions today have no effect on the continued status of the simulation.” Quiet consent greeted him so far, most of us agreeing this was a remote possibility. \n\n“Scenario two: We were created to simulate a specific something, a specific alternate history, a specific true past or perhaps just for leisure, and revealing our findings will cause the simulation to either collapse or become less useful to its creator and result in subsequent termination.” Nods around the room…\n\n“Third,” he said, holding up three fingers on his right hand, “third scenario: We were created for some unknown purpose, and distribution of our results will not cause the simulation to end.” I snorted at this almost exactly in time with both Dr. Jennings and Dr. Schroder, each of us intuitively dismissing it. Dr. Liu appeared to consider it more thoughtfully however, and eventually responded. \n\n",
"\"What is it?\" Grant asked. \"Doctor King, just what the hell is it?\"\n\n\"Proof,\" King said, lighting a cigarette and drawing a deep breath. Not much point to clean living anymore, though the heavy gut bulging over King's belt and the gin blossoms scattered across his nose were not the hallmarks of a life lived healthily. \"Of the Moravec Hypothesis.\"\n\nGrant spun, the knee-high stalks of wheat brushing against his jeans with barely a sound. He stood in a field just north of Esperance, Western Australia. About a hundred miles from the southern ocean. When the wind was right, you could smell the salt and the sea from the Great Southern wheat fields--an endless sea in its own right, golden stalks swaying, waving, in the breeze that blew hot from the north in the morning, cold from the south in the afternoon.\n\n\"Impossible,\" Grant said.\n\nKing waved a hand at the anomaly hovering just above the field of wheat, a singular tear in the fabric of the world, a doorway into nothing. If the world was a painting stretched thin over nothing, then the thing that hovered ten feet tall, three wide, was a burn through the canvas. \"Tell me the readings you're getting aren't an affront to every law of physics, everything we knew to be true. I brought you in on this to confirm what I already know. Tell me it doesn't read like corrupted code to you, Grant?\"\n\nGrant's eyes slid from the laptop in his hands to Doctor King and back. He stared into the tear in reality, a multitude of colour spinning within its impossible depths, dim but constant. He moved around the anomaly, running a circle into the wheat crop. The tear disappeared when viewed from the east, returned in the south, the west, and began to fade again at the north. \n\nHe couldn't dispute the readings, as much as he wanted to...\n\n\"So... we're in a simulation. The universe is just... lines of code. Are we real?\"\n\nKing shrugged. \"Does it matter? We could be a simulation inside a simulation, and so on, so on, infinite regression. If there's someone or something at the beginning, we'll never know.\"\n\nGrant swallowed hard. \"Who's running our simulation?\"\n\nA smile touched King's face, stretched into a grin that didn't reach his eyes. \"As far as we can tell... no one. These tears, the other anomalies all across the world, like the disappearance of two million people in Guangzhou, or Niagara Falls flowing *upwards*, are only the beginning.\" \n\n\"The beginning of what?\"\n\nKing flicked the stub of his cigarette into the source code of the universe. The butt spun, hovered, disintegrated. \"Think about it, Grant. We live in a simulation, a false reality, a video game, *that is no longer being maintained*. What do you think happens next?\"\n\nGrant dropped his laptop and exhaled slowly, a sigh stretching toward despair. \"Oh,\" he said. \"Shit.\"\n\nDr King nodded. \"Indeed. Pub for lunch?\""
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[WP] Reddit, Facebook, and Quora walk into a bar... | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"(You've probably heard this one before but here it goes either way)\n\nReddit, Facebook, and Quora walk into a bar.\n\nAs the three sit down they begin to converse.\n\n\"I'm glad to be with you guys today,\" said Facebook. \"It's been tough with Instagram and everything, but I'm making my way through this rough patch.\"\n\n\"We're always here for you,\" Quora assured him. \"If you need anything, just ask.\"\n\n\"You can come to me, Face, any time!\" Reddit popped in, \"tell me whatever you want and I'll listen.\"\n\n\"Thanks guys, but I don't think I'll be able to go much further. I'm growing old and everyone else is surpassing me in every way.\"\n\n\"You'll make it man.\" Quora was trying his best at comforting him but he could really see the sadness in his eyes. \"You'll always be the best one anyways.\"\n\n\"That's a bit of a stretch, bud,\" Reddit cut in once again. \"We all know I'm the best and I'll always be.\"\n\nQuora simply replied, \"I was just trying to help him out a little through tough times. No need to be a dick to him or me. Anyways, I will always surpass your idiotic and young population.\"\n\n\"Come on guys, no need to fight!\" Facebook was trying to step in and stop, but he was too old for this conflict.\n\n\"At least I don't have stupid character requirements!\" Reddit said.\n\n\"Well most of my users have an education and experience in the real world!\" Quota insisted.\n\n\"Don't make me come over there and punch you...\"\n\n\"Hey, hey, hey! Come on guys, don't fight,\" the bartender stepped in. \"You know, you guys wouldn't be jack shit without me anyways.\"\n\nInternet solved that conflict and turned to 9gag and iFunny. Their autistic screeches could be heard from miles away."
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[WP] They don't call it "live"r for nothing. Your recent liver transplant has you ready to take on the world again. You were warned to refrain from all alcohol but this liver came from a professional beer taster. A daily quota of hoppy IPAs must be consumed or your liver will reject your body. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"When I woke up in my hospital bed and saw the nurse adjusting the IV drip I felt absolutely thrilled to be alive, despite her resembling my ex-wife. It was an exhilarating feeling unlike anything I'd ever awoken to, and it wasn't just psychological: although I hadn't fully repossessed control of my limbs I knew my whole body was itching to move, and I had an urge to talk which I cautiously repressed. I thought I was high and opted to remain in observation mode for a bit longer while the remaining effects of whatever anesthetic I’d been administered wore off. \n\nSuddenly satisfied with the rate at which the clear liquid flew down the tube to my arm, the nurse was now presenting a smile larger than anything I'd ever seen on my ex-wife's face even before we got married. \"She's… so... h-hot,\" I thought I'd thought. \n\n\"What?\" the nurse replied, confused. \n\n\"Wha...?\" I said, equally confused, and the nurse chuckled, almost taunting me it seemed, while looking at what I supposed was a chart on the wall over my head, which confused me even more. \n\n\"WHA...?!\" I repeated.\n\n\"It's alright, honey, it's alright,\" she laughed, and then, only slightly less playful, she announced: \"Your operation went very well, there's nothing to worry about.\"\n\n“O-op-pera-… shun…?”\n\nIt was then that I remembered having no memory whatsoever of setting foot in this hospital. Surprisingly, I did not panic at the realization, but grew increasingly curious. I wanted to ask questions but, my neck aching, I lowered my eyes and calmly examined the situation before them. The nurse pressed a button on a remote she'd picked up somewhere near me that I hadn't seen, promptly put it back there still without me noticing where, and then, with the kind of sigh that usually marks a brief pause in an otherwise uninterrupted succession of chores, she picked up a different object and suggested: \"Now, sweetie, if you'd kindly stop staring at my breasts and exhale in this tube for me, please?\"\n\n\"Wha...? No-o... aye... wasun't...\"\n\n\"Breathe,\" she commanded, and gently forced the tube in my mouth. \n\n“B’ee’!” I tried to sing while gnawing on the piece on plastic. “B’ee’in dee’ai’!”\n\n“Not now, darling. Just breathe,” the nurse scolded, like she would’ve a child. “Now’s not the time for Pink Floyd.”\n\nAt that moment resounded two quick knocks at the door, immediately succeeded by the entrance of two men in white overalls. The man I presumed in charge – because he was taller, appeared more mature, wore glasses, and was Asian – walked to the front of my bed and stood there motionless, speechless, while the goofier-looking one, who seemed no older than my own boy, paced straight to the nurse.\n\n\"What's his B.A.C.?\" Goofy asked.\n\n\"0.055,\" the nurse answered casually, referring to a display attached to the end of the tube she'd just gagged me with, and finally removing it.\n\n\"Tha... that's, like, the low-... the LOWEST... my bod-... body... uhh, my temperature... has, like, ever, EVER been,\" I managed to stutter.\n\nGoofy rolled his eyes. “Bring it up to 0.075 after we brief him,” he said with a nod. “Don’t let it drop below 0.060.”\n\n“Good evening, Mr. Jouvier.” Without warning, as if the words had been burning on his tongue, the tall mature bespectacled Asian man spouted an introduction. (I was surprised, not only because his speech began at the exact millisecond that Goofy’s interaction with the nurse, on which I had been trying to focus, ended, but mostly because he pronounced my name “Dju-vee-ay”, as us frogs would’ve, rather than “Jo-veer”, as Americans normally did.) “I am doctor Nguyen. I will be overseeing your post-op recovery. Yes, I am proud to say that the transplant was a success. Congratulations.”\n\n“T-t-trans-… pl-plant… you m-mean, like…”\n\n“Yes. Liver transplant, specifically. We’ve saved your life, Mr. Jouvier.”\n\n“M-my liver… izzit o-o-o-o… o-o-o-o…. o-k-kay?”\n\n“Well, no: technically, your liver is awfully diseased. We’ve actually de-LIVER-ed you!” \n\nDoctor Nguyen let out a single “ha!” then smiled and paused to cue in laughter, like a stand-up comic on his first night expecting the crowd to go wild at banter he’d thought too genius for peer review, but was confronted instead to an embarrassing ten seconds of bemused silence, broken only by the sound of Goofy clearing his throat, which the Doctor interpreted as disapproval.\n\n“If it’s of any consolation it made a delicious dinner,” riposted the Doctor. \n\n“You… ate… my l-liver?!”\n\n“Liver?! I barely knew ‘er!” The smirk on the Doctor’s face could not have been any wider, and yet, to his apparent disarray, still: silence. “Well anyway,” he ultimately conceded, “we’ve got you a new liver now. We hope you’ll care take of it like you did the previous one.”\n\nI snickered at what I figured was sarcasm. “Y-yeah, r-right… s-sure, d-doc-…” \n\n“This is very serious,” interjected Goofy. “You see, Mr. Dju-vee-ay (he accentuated every syllable of the new pronunciation with great certitude), when we rushed you in the ER, you were diagnosed with Type C hepatic encephalopathy and doctor Nguyen here personally assessed that the cirrhosis would’ve killed you within the night unless we proceeded to a liver transplant right away. Unfortunately, you weren’t on our organ transplant waiting list, obviously, and so we had to… erm, improvise.”\n\n“W-wh…”\n\n“Please let me finish. The organ donor from whom you obtained your new liver, Mr. Jouvier, was a renowned, professional Belgian beer taster.”\n\n“Y-y-you w-went a-a-all… the w-way… to Eu-u-r-rope?! To f-f-find m-me a-a-…” \n\nGoofy puffed exasperatedly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Jouvier. What I meant was: your providential liver came from an expert taster of Belgian ales. Now, Mr. Jouvier: in order to prevent your body from rejecting the newly transplanted organ, you will require to be medicated hourly with lupus salictarius. Amarillo, Centenial, Columbus, CTZ, Simcoe, anything of the sort.”\n\n“Aye… d-don’t-t-und-d…”\n\n“Hops, Mr. Jouvier. From now on, you will necessitate hourly consummations of hoppy IPA beers. Doctor Nguyen has prescribed Russian River Brewing’s Pliny the Elder.”\n\nI waited until I was more or less certain that Goofy was done with his explanations, and, having inferred that treatment was to begin without delay, slowly let my jaw drop while shifting my gaze onto Doctor Nguyen.\n\n“Now, now, Mr. Jouvier, I understand your concern. I’m more of a whisky man myself,” the doctor sympathized. “But you’ll have to trust in our medical expertise, Mr. Jouvier. My grandfather, who in the 60s was a KPA medic, performed a very similar and successful operation on – yes, you’ve guessed it, Kim Jong-un himself! There is an old Chinese saying, Mr. Jouvier: ‘*Shi yao san fen du*,’ that is, ‘any drug is at least 30% poison.’”\n\n“I thought ‘Nguyen’ was a Vietnamese name?” the nurse interrupted with a glare. \n\n“Vietnamese, Korean, Chinese, what’s it all to you, whiteys?” rebuked Doctor Nguyen. “This is the 21st century, nurse; you should have a more inclusive mind. Ahem! In any case, Mr. Jouvier, we do believe this to be in your best interest. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have other patients to visit, but we’ll make sure to check on you frequently. Cheers!” \n\nWith that, Doctor Nguyen and Goofy hastily walked out the door and slammed it shut. I stared at it blankly for a while. I wanted to pinch myself, make sure I wasn’t dreaming; I couldn’t believe my luck. My ex-wife (before we divorced, of course), she’d told me that the drink would kill me; if it didn’t, she’d added, she would, eventually. And now, what chance! Not only hadn’t I seen her or my son for a full year after the separation; as it turned out, drinking would not kill me: it was going to save me! My vice had become my redemption! \n\n“Uhh… ‘re you… a-are you gon’ p-pour ma b-bee’ee’eer… d-d-dir-rect-tly i-in-t-ther’?” I asked the nurse, weakly lifting my arm to point in the drip’s general direction.\n\n“Oh, dear, no! That’s a morphine drip, sweetie,” she said with her original warm smile. \n\nShe walked a few feet away and I heard her open and close a cooler, followed by a fizzy “ptssh!” and a bottle cap dropping on the ceramic floor. She came back to my bedside with a beer in her hand, which she lifted to my lips and tilted slightly. “Here, Mr. Jouvier, you can take your medication the old-fashioned way,” she proclaimed as I excitedly downed the glorious nectar. With my last gulp she tossed the empty bottle aside and stood up.\n\n“I’ll be back to take your B.A.C. in an hour, Mr. Jouvier,” she notified me on her way out.\n\n“C-c-could’djou… g-get me a p-p-… p-p-poutine… w-w-when you…”\n\n“What’s that, darling?”\n\n“A p-p-pout-TINE…” I repeated. “Fuh… Fuh… Fuhrench f-f-fries… g-gravy… a-an’ ch-ch-ch-chEEse… y’-y’-y’know…” \n\nShe smiled. \n\n“I’ll see what I can do, honey,” she said, and, with a faint but mischievous wink, she was gone."
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1,
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"1496294669",
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[WP] You've discovered a cave with a space time anomaly that leads to an apocalyptic future. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I sat at my desk, quiet. A pencil sat in my hand, and a pad of paper before me.\n\nIt had been three days since I moved the boulder lodged in that natural stone arch. Beyond was a scene of devastation. A city on fire. Strange aircraft without wings, just fins that changed shape in flight, capable of astonishing maneuvering. \n\nWhat could I do? What should I do? \n\nThe word 'scientists' was crossed out. I didn't know any. Even if I could find some, who could I convince to hike out to the middle of some national park with me? Under what pretense could I get them into the middle of nowhere? \n\nThe word 'government' was crossed out. What would they do with it? Send tanks? Nothing moved like the things I saw on the other side of that portal. Another world was a resource - government would want to exploit it, but there was a threat unlike anything I'd ever seen beyond that archway.\n\nWord after word was crossed out, discarded plans, diagrams, phone numbers. Only one thing still remained. I turned my eyes to the garage. The archway wasn't very sturdy. Wedge a chisel in, and a few blows from the sledge would probably break it. \n\nHow many people lived there? Were they being exterminated? Enslaved? Was the gate some attempt by the invaders gone awry, trying to break through to other Earths to dominate? If that were the case, how many Earths were lost? If this misplaced portal broke down, would they bother to find this Earth again, or would they write it off as a failed connection and move on to other prey? The gate might be a way to save someone. Anyone . . . at the risk of our entire world. Perhaps our whole solar system, our galaxy, who know how pervasive it might be?\n\nIt was midnight when I threw my stoneworking tools into the back of my truck, and took the first step in abandoning uncounted infinities of people to their fate. I cut them loose like dead wood. Just scraped them off my shoe and kept on walking.\n\nI know you don't believe me. You don't have to. What's done is done, and they haven't been seen for twenty-five years since that day. But our hour is almost up, and you still think I'm crazy.\n\nYes, I'm willing to come for another session. It's not as if I have a choice. Yes, two days is fine. I'll see you on Friday, doctor."
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1,
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"1496321105",
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[WP] A bank robber takes off his ski mask and hails a cab, stowing his pistol in his back pocket. Suddenly, lights begin to flash around him. "Welcome to the Cash Cab!..." | 857 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I stepped out of the Cash Cab, four hundred dollars richer. A tear rolled down my face, full of shame and self-loathing. I took out my phone to make a call but paused to look at the screen. My little girl looked back from the wallpaper, grinning brightly. She thought I was a hero. She loved her daddy.\n\nFour hundred dollars. I could make rent. I'd be able to pay for her pills. I might have a few bucks left over for groceries. The briefcase in my hand, though, held over six thousand dollars. Several solid months of financial freedom. Time enough to find opportunity. Maybe even a job.\n\nThe phone timed out, and shut the screen off. That was what did it. Her adoring gaze, her shining admiration of her hero disappearing while I considered what I could do with that money. It wasn't much, but that metaphor broke my spirit in a heartbeat.\n\nI left the briefcase near the door of the bank. A suspicious man left a suitcase by a public thoroughfare. There was a clock on it. I saw wires. I think it might be a bomb. All lies. But they got their money back. \n\nAs I walked away from the scene, I wrapped the gun into the ski mask, tucking it into a trashcan. Then my phone rang. My daughter's face was shining at me again, blinding in the darkness. I lifted the phone to my ear, feeling like my very soul dodged a bullet. \"Hey pumpkin. Yeah, I'm on my way. I got held up. I'll be home soon.\"",
"Charlie reaches for his back pocket, but the cab driver keeps talking. \n\n\"I'm Ben Bailey, and you're in the cash cab. I'll ask you questions. Every time you get one right, we'll give you $100. If you get three wrong, you're done.\" \n\n\"What, okay, just take me to 2343 Washington Ave.\" \n\n\"Okay, that's 56 blocks. Plenty of time to make some money. Are you ready for the first question?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I'm a little nervous.\" \n\n\"Just do your best, which Russian Tsar ordered the construction of St. Basil's?\" \n\n\"Uh...\"\n\n\"You do have a lifeline where you can phone a friend.\" \n\n\"No, no,\" says Charlie, \"That was Ivan the Terrible.\" \n\n\"Nicely done, that's $100.\" \n\nCharlie looks in the review mirror and sees sirens flashing behind them. Ben pulls over. Charlie wants to scream, but the sirens pass. It's an ambulance. Charlie breathes a sigh of relief. \n\n\"Sounds like that was a guess but a good one. Let's keep going. In what year was the Spanish Armada defeated by the English?\" \n\nCharlie remembers it. He thinks back to Billy Madison. \n\n\"Uh, 1588.\" \n\n\"Correct, you're up to $200. Whoa, here's a red light. It's time for the Red Light Challenge. You have 30 seconds to name 5 of the 8 presidents who died while still in office.\" \n\nCharlie looks out the window and sees a police car beside them. He turns his head away from them and covers his face. \n\n\"Kennedy, Lincoln, FDR.\"\n\n\"That's three.\" \n\n\"McKinley, and...Garfield.\" \n\n\"That's right, another $250 for you.\" \n\nCharlie looks at the police car again, but it takes off at the light. The cab keeps going. \n\n\"Alright, the questions get a bit harder, but they're worth $200. Are you ready?\"\n\n\"Uh, I guess.\" \n\n\"What is the highest mountain in Japan?\" \n\n\"Umm, can I phone a friend?\" \n\n\"Yep.\" Ben hands him the cell phone. Charlie waves him off and calls from his phone. \n\n\"Hey, yeah, it went fine. Can you pick me up on Washington? Yeah, I'll text you the address.\"\n\n\"The game,\" says Ben. \n\n\"Oh yeah, I'm on this Cash Cab thing. Yeah, I know. No, it's legit. Anyway, do you know the highest mountain in Japan. Are you sure? Fuji?\" \n\n\"That's right. You're up to $650, but you're out of lifelines. We only have two questions left. Boy, the police are all over the place here. Sirens everywhere. Oh well, your next question. In Siberia is the deepest lake in the world, what is its name?\" \n\n\"Gee, Ben, I don't know. I'll have to guess. Oh wait, Lake Baikal.\" \n\n\"Correct again, up to $850. You're really robbing me. Alright, what does gas our atmosphere mostly consist of? Hint, it's not oxygen.\" \n\n\"Oh, I don't know. Umm, I know it's not carbon dioxide. I think it's nitrogen.\" \n\n\"Correct again. You have $1050, and here's your stop.\"\n\nBen pulls out the money and shows it to Charlie. \"Now, you could go for double or nothing. You would double your money if you're right, but, if you're wrong, you lose everything.\" \n\n\"I'm going to take the money and walk.\" \n\nCharlie pulls out a huge wad of cash and adds the Cash Cab money to it. Ben looks at the money confused. Charlie gets out of the cab but looks at Ben. \n\n\"You never saw me, okay?\" \n\n\"It's on video, this...everything. We taped this.\" \n\n\"Crap, I have to go.\" \n\nCharlie gets out of the car and starts running down the street directly into two officers who stop him. He explains about the Cash Cab and his excitement about winning. Somehow it works. The officers let him go while Ben Bailey watches, confused. Ben never puts it together, and Charlie escapes into the night. \n\n***\n\nIf you liked this, I also wrote a prompt about a talking cow that loves cow puns. [Here is part I.](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/4qd66j/wp_a_poorlydisguised_escaped_dairy_cow_has_worked/)",
"The fanfare stunned Jeffery, making him immediately grabbed his gun. Ben announced the rules of the game, unaware of the weapon.\n\n\"Are you ready to play Cash Cab?\" \n\nJeffery quickly realized that he was on camera, and holstered his gun once more.\n\n\"Sure, whatever, please just start the car!\" he replied urgently. \n\n\"So you're saying you want to play the game?\" Ben asked, still looking back at Jeff. \n\n\"*Just start the fucking car!*\"\n\nBen nodded, merging into traffic. \n\n\"Ok, Jeff. Can I call you Jeff? What's the biggest bank in America?\" Ben asked, looking at Jeffery through the mirror.\n\nJeff, having just robbed the very same bank, was dumbstruck.\n\n\"I don't... can we just drive, please?\"\n\n\"Sorry Jeff, either we play the game or I stop the car.\"\n\n\"It's... it's JPMorgan Chase, Ben.\"\n\n\"That's $100 for you, Jeff!\" Ben announced, as the cab's lights flashed. Jeff tried to shield his eyes from them.\n\n\"Ok, for question two: what caliber bullets does the Glock G29 use?\"\n\nJeffery's eyes went wide. He gripped his Glock. \n\n\"I, I- I don't think I know that one, Ben,\" he said, stuttering. \n\n\"That's a shame, Jeff, a shame indeed!\" Ben said, taking a turn. \"Three wrong and this is over! You won't like that, will you Jeff?\"\n\nJeffery pushed himself into the back of his seat, silently shaking his head.\n\n\"Ok, next up, how many bank robberies take place per year in New York, on average?\" Ben asked with a smile.\n\n\"I'd like to get out now, please,\" Jeffery asked quietly. \n\n\"Oh come on, we're just getting started! Take a guess, at least.\"\n\n\"Three.\"\n\n\"Oooh, it's four! Four bank robberies per year, Jeff. So close, ey? One strike left!\" Ben replied, accelerating at the green light. Jeffery nodded with severity.\n\n\"Next up - how much does it cost to treat leukemia in a child?\"\n\nJeffery was silent. He knew this one. \n\n\"Come on Jeff, you gotta play it to win it!\"\n\n\"...$103250, more or less.\"\n\n\"Right you are!\" Ben said, as the lights flashed. He takes a turn, heading directly towards a dead-end. \n\n\"Ok, so, important one here - what do you think the chances of a security guard surviving a gunshot wound to the chest are?\"\n\nJeffery gripped his gun. \"I'd... I'd like to have a 'Shout-Out', please.\"\n\nBen handed him the phone. Jeffery slowly put in the number, putting the phone to his ear with shaking hands.\n\n\"Hello..?\" a young child asked, voice quivering.\n\n\"Honey, I just want to let you know... I'm sorry,\" Jeffery said, tears in his eyes. He gripped the phone.\n\n\"*I didn't have a choice*.\"\n\nBen turned to look at him.\n\n\"You know she can't hear you, right?\"\n\nJeffery stared back at him with hollow eyes, putting the gun to his head. \n\n\"...I know.\"\n\n*****\n\nThe police sirens blared in front of the bank.\n\nJeffery's lifeless body lay splayed on the floor, his phone slick with blood, half his daughter's number blinking on the screen.",
"A clean break. I walk out of the alley, mask stuffed down a dumpster, jacket tossed into another one, gun tucked behind my waist. I can here sirens, in the distance, but although they're looking for me, I know they aren't any immediate threat. I'm tempted, I just want to hail an Lyft and get the hell out of here, but if I did that, it'd create a record of me being in the area. No need to chance it, so I hail a cab. \n\nHonestly, for a second I can't even remember how I'm supposed to do it. Do I just stand here and one pulls up? Or do I wave or something. This Asian grandma, she lifts her pointy finger around, and a cab rolls up to the curb. Crazy, even easier than an app. I do the same and a van looking thing rolls up to the curb. Hop on in.\n\nAnd suddenly, all these lights are flashing and shit, and this buzzer thing is going off, and I damn near have a heart attack, and have to stay my hand, wanting to pull my gun out. Fuck. \n\n\"Welcome to Cash Cab!\"\n\nGod damn it. I see the camera up in the top corner. Now they've got my mother fucking face on this shit. Should have called an Lyft. God damn it. \n\n\"Do you want to play?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"What's that?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Too bad! You're playing anyway!\"\n\nWhat. The. Fuck. The van's moving, pretty decent speed, but honestly I'm willing to risk it. I pull on the door handle. Nothing. The guy in front, he's the type of person you'd pass on the street and never notice, but he's got this big, dopey grin on his face.\n\n\"Listen man, I don't want to play. Just, you know, drop me off at 10th street, or if you don't want to give me a ride, just drop me off here.\"\n\n\"Oh come on dude, it's just three quick questions! Answer them all right and you get 10 grand! Can you think of any quicker way to earn more money?\"\n\nYeah, I can. it's called robbing a bank. I've got like 100K in my nackpack right now. But I relent. \"Alright dude. Whatever. Ask the questions.\"\n\n\"Okay, first up, where did the biggest bank robbery occur in American history?\"\n\nYou've got to be fucking kidding me. Bank robberies? Is this some type of fucking joke. But hey, fuck this dude, jokes on him. I know the answer. \"The Dunbar Heist in Los Angeles.\"\n\n\"That's correct! Double bonus points, how much was stolen?\"\n\n\"$18.9 million.\" \n\n\"Whoa! Good job! You just won two thousand, five hundred dollars!\"\n\nHell yeah bitches. Fuck it, I may as well make some side cash. \"Alright dude, next question, you got any more of these robbery ones?\"\n\n\"Actually, I do! Called the Great Train Robbery, this daring heist took place in Kent England in which year?\"\n\n\"1963!\" \n\n\"Great job! 2.5K more!\"\n\nI really started to get into it. Shit, this was literally easier than robbing a bank. \n\n\"Alright, last question. How many years can you be sentenced for armed robbery of a bank?\"\n\nThis one I knew really damn well. Just looked it up last night. \"Twenty five year maximum.\"\n\n\"Great, and for double points, what's the minimum?\"\n\n\"Five years minimum if you have no prior criminal record.\"\n\n\"That's correct! So you're going to be serving somewhere between 5 to 25 years in prison, congrats!\"\n\nI looked out the windows and saw cops with their guns drawn, and looking up to the front of the cash cab, I saw the police scanner for the first time too. Fuck. This asshole distracted me with my own god damn greed. "
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'Rush of power' can be either literal (supernatural) or metaphorical (unquestioning obedience). | [WP] The cult mistaking you for their god was a surprise, their offer of human sacrifice even more shocking... but the biggest surprise of all was the rush of power that came with it. | 24 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I’m dreaming. It’s a nightmare. It just cannot be real; it feels like some cliché movie. The terror in his eyes feels real. Dark, flickering eyes not once looking away from me. Out of all these people, he was the first one I met, I blame him for all of this, but I don't want this. He doesn't deserve death.\n\nMy grades were trash and my motivation to continue studying was even more lackluster. So I deferred. I procrastinated on my future and booked flights to Europe. Like every other millennial I went out on a gap year to find meaning in life. I wanted some great adventure. Searching for purpose, I went looking in Eastern Europe. \n\nSamvel was looking at me with a silent desperation too thunderous to break away from.\n\nBored with Europe, I backpacked through turkey and ended up in Armenia where the Dormant volcano Ararat dwarfed Khor Virap, the deep dungeon Monastery.\n\nLonely and anxious about my future I absent-mindedly weaved in and out of nowhere wishing for purpose. Aggressively I got knocked to the ground, and grabbed my head “Christ!” A rather large hand was open in front of me.\n\n“Apologies, you should watch where you walk, you are tourist?”\n\n“Urghh, yeah sorry” I mumbled and stood up.\n\n“You have interesting eyes.”\n\nTaken aback but used to the commentary, I looked him up and down.\n\n“Yeah they kinda change with the light sometimes, this one has always been an odd yellow, and the other changes from blue to green from time to time.”\n\nHe seemed to be studing me as if trying to decide if I was lying to him or not.\n\n“My name is Samvel, what is your name?” extending his hand to me again.\n\nShaking his hand I replied with “Alex” and felt it briefly tighten in surprise.\n\n\nChanting snapped me back to the scene infront. The songs grew loud making me feel dizzy and uneasy. Samvel continued to look at me. I couldn't focus on anything in the ceremony around me but him. “Alex,! Do you now what Samvel means in our language,..” He gazed at me determined “it means ‘god has heard.’” All around the town centre the chanting increased to a shrill. The Air grew in it an unshakeable tension. I could barely breathe. Thick hot air clung to my chest. I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up before I drowned, and then the shrill screams of monks tore at me and Samvel simply nodded. A milky white dagger plunged through the back of his neck poking through as a vibrant red spike. The atmosphere turned silent leaving a feint ringing in my ears. The thick air was replaced with calm easy breaths.\n\n\n“Alex, let me show you this place properly. No guidebooks, this land and its history are thousands of years old. My family can show you proper food and the hills side is breathtaking to see the sunset.”\n\n“Oh.. its okay” trying to decline politely.\n\n“ You must come, at least as a way for me to apologies for knocking you down and breaking your camera.”\n\nI quickly looked down at a cracked iPhone on the floor. “dammit” I picked it up and pressed the buttons trying to turn it on. “shit, I had my itinerary details on here”\n\n“itinerary?”\n\n“Yeah, where I was staying and my flight details home and stuff”\n\n“You come back to my place, my family cooks you dinner, use my brother’s computer to get your details and all will be okay”\n\nThe last moments of my normal life were following a kind stranger to his home, sharing food with him and then falling asleep.\n\n I woke to chanting and many eyes staring out me through robes and plain clothes.\n\n“”Be calm protector, you are safe now. He heard you, we all heard you.” A Palm was pushed against my head and a fell back to darkness.\n\nThe next couple days were strange and confusing. As long as I didn't freak out I was allowed to walk around. It was a commune with many people. The place was filled mainly with Monks and plain clothed women and children. The buildings and small town felt old. Very Old. No one would talk to me, but many bowed. The only interaction I had was near the courtyard garden. Tugging at my pants was a small girl offering me an apple. She smiled at me warmly. “Odzi, leave him alone.” Her mother gracefully running over to take her away “Apologies Alex.” \n\n“Wait!” I caught up to her “please… what is this place, how do you know who I am?”\n\nA sad smile washed over her “They haven’t told you anything?”\n\nI shook my head.\n\nShe looked around then in a hushed tone whispered, “It is written in the book of our people that a lost traveler would come to us with an eye of ember and an eye of the sea. He will come to protect all mankind.” She turned to leave..\n\nI grabbed her arm desperately “But I didn't come to you! I was kidnapped, I don't even know where this is!”\n\nShe smiled sympathetically and walked away.\n\nTwo days later, surrounded by monks in grey I was lead to the town centre where Samvel was on his knees, hands tied behind his back. \n\n“Alex, Protector of mankind, you are still just flesh and heart, an empty vessel.”\nBehind Samvel an opaque knife was unsheathed.\n\n“To you, Samvel offers himself as the first sacrifice. Our land and the earth around us suffocates in bloodshed and suffering. We relinquish our suffering and spill our blood to you, to protect the future.” Samvel’s nervous eyes touched mine.\n\n\nThe ringing in my ears was replaced by the dripping of Samvel’s blood hitting the stone below. Each drop sent shivers up my spine. Each breath I drew, I felt warmer. At first I thought it was shock but the strange calmness inside grew into something more hideous. Confidence bubbled as the next sacrifice kneeled before me. Excitement flashed across my face.\n\nWith each nod the white blade become stained. The tingly in my fingers became a rush. Each body before me my eagerness to see a dark red knife grew. Finally I felt like light like the air around us, and strong and knowing like the earth beneath us. Stepping forward I looked at the bed of sacrifices. I outstretched my arm and opened my palms to them “thank you for you blessings, you will forever have mine” and with that, flames erupted around the bodies sending their flesh to the heavens as ashes. \n\nWatching the smoke curl and dance towards the sun I smiled and felt at peace.\nI will protect mankind, I will go forth into the modern world and consume mankind’s biggest enemy and fulfil my purpose. I will protect mankind from itself.\n\n",
"It felt l.... weird, to say the least, like a lightning bolt struck me, like some form of energy went through me, it felt like...... like..... It felt great. \n \nThe human sacrifice was a surprise to be sure, but the powers that came with it made it a welcome one. I dont know how it happen, or what they did, maybe the guy they sacrificed was special, maybe I stole them from him, but it does not matter. They are mine now, and I love them. \n \nThe discovery of my powers were weird to say the least. I discovered the power of telekinesis by thinking about the T.V. remote and not wanting to get up. Why it only works on electrical appliances is beyond my understanding, but it helps when I need the remote and can not find it. \n \nThe power to control the mind of my pet rat was also a weird small thing, it's really useful to get some extra money by making him perform and do tricks. The most surprising power I actually got was a different one though. It was not a classical superman power. Neither was it a power you'd think of when trying to come up with fun supernatural powers. \nEither way, I am defenitally happy with the power manipulating internet upvotes and points, you already got to the reddit front page a number of times, and almost all of your comments have at least 1000+ upvotes. \nIs it the most useful power ? \nNo, but you like it, and someone sacrificed himself for them, so you are gonna use them "
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[WP] A dragon disguised as a human travels with a dragonslayer for fun and profit | 177 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"“You know we’re not all that thick right?” Sir Coranstirne considered it insulting that Fleg thought a cheap wig and fake breasts worn as a necklace was sufficient disguise. The two sat around the fire Fleg had thrown up earlier. \nFleg responded, her voice deep and rumbling, carried on a scent of burnt meat. “I’m well aware.” The way her jaw flapped open and shut, pine needle like teeth on full display, had little relation to what he’d heard. “But it’s what works.” \n \nCoran had to begrudgingly admit that Fleg had indeed managed to enter the nearest town and purchase the supplies needed for a good couple of nights. She’d even got less suspicious looks than he would have. After all he’d not taken off his heavy armour in a few weeks and didn’t remember what colour it was under rusted bandit blood. \nBut it still wasn’t fair that 10 ton reptile with a wingspan of several meters and jaws that could swallow most people whole got a free pass just because everyone knew dragons didn’t have hair or mammary glands. “But why do you bother?” He had to ask her.\n\nFleg considered before answering. “It’s simple really, people have their uses. A dragonslayer such as yourself is an asset. You just need to be pointed to the appropriate place. After all, I’d also rather there were fewer fights between hot-headed adolescent males.”\n\n",
"Twirling moons, nostalgic boys, an eternal shooting star. Their eyes never left the star's trail - nor did their minds leave the future. \n\n\"Tomorrow.\" Harrison said. \n\"I know.\" Elon replied. \n\nThey both watched the star and said nothing. It was a cooperative silence.\n\nTheir concern grew as the star grew closer to them and lit up the sky in a wash of purple and pink, long flames firing off from the star as it fell closer and closer. Harrison leaned up and Elon stood, the both of them staring with more amazement than fear. \n\nIt landed without a sound and towered over the field and the boys, and the trees and the town - its head reached far into the sky and its eyes stared down at Elon and Harrison, its cat-like slits glaring at the two of them. \n\n**\"A fine pair to witness. See me, cattle, and recall a word: dragonfire.\"**\n\n_______________________________________________________________\n\nPurple flame: a friend lost. A home lost. Elon remembered that night and the dragon's fire. Forgetting it was impossible - every moment his eyes were open, there were blind spots throughout his vision from that bright night. When he shut his eyes he only saw Harrison's wide eyes and soundless scream of agony as he was engulfed in fire. \n\nHe'd left his charred home, followed the dragon's trail of fire back to his nest, and found its sloppy domain: skeletons, bodily waste, and giant pens of humans and livestock lined the walls. The dragon itself was asleep. A nest rested in the middle of the room, containing a large sack of fist-sized eggs. Elon couldn't kill the dragon and he knew that. \n\nSo he destroyed the eggs, freed the dragon's prisoners, and watched as hundreds of shattered men and women fell upon the beast and ripped into its eyes and exposed flesh, its roars dying into whimpers as it realized its young had been killed. Elon couldn't find himself to feel guilt for the dragon's loss. \n\nHe became a hermit after that, fleeing into the woods as those he saved praised him as a dragon slayer. He studied, trained, and used his share of the dragon's hoard to equip himself. By the time he'd become a man he was ready to accept his mantle as a dragon slayer. \n\nSome time passed and Elon turned into what all boys aspired to be - a hero. Looking at the wheezing body of another dragon, its bright yellow eyes wide with terror, Elon didn't feel very heroic. The king's representative patted his shoulder. \n\n\"Well done! You've done it again, Dragonslayer. Very impressive.\" \n\nElon set his spear beside him and knelt by the dragon, meeting its terrified glare. He smiled. \n\nHe wasn't the hero he'd wanted to be, but he was a hero nonetheless. \n\n_______________________________________________________________\n\nA year passed. Towns burned, dragons died, and Elon grew more depressed. He'd never stopped his warpath to mourn the death of his friend; in a way, this occupation was his way of mourning. \n\nOne morning he decided it wasn't enough. \n\nHe left the service of the king over the court's choir of disapproval and rode back to his town. Since he took up his mantle as a dragonslayer he'd been forwarding all of his profits to his hometown - he'd never gotten to see it and the progress it'd made. He had high hopes and thought that, when his career was over, he'd settle down there and keep watch over the town. \n\nElon came home to dragonfire. \n\nHours passed. The only survivor was a woman who hid herself in the same field he and Harrison were those years prior. An introduction unheard. The woman followed Elon as he trailed the path of fire to a familiar cave. \n\nIt was recently occupied. A dragon had lived there and he found a single scale on the floor: a large, purple one, deliberately picked off the hide of the beast. It was a message meant for Elon, and he'd interpreted it exactly as intended; one of his first's children had survived and it sought revenge. As he set out to track this new rival the woman followed him without asking, and the two became an unspoken team. \n\n_______________________________________________________________________\n\nwill do more soon if this is liked",
"The fire was small, only large enough to cook food and chase away the darkness and those that lived within it. The man who tended the fire seemed to be average height but stockier than most that came through the forest. His clothes were well-worn and, though they looked clean, Rashka could smell the iron of blood coming off them.\n\nThere was a gleaming sword in the man’s hands, it’s edges freshly sharpened from the whetstone in the man had just set aside.\n\n“Are you going to stand there all night?” the man called out, not looking up from his blade as he examined his work. “I promise you, this blade is not for you.”\n\nRashka smiled, a bit indulgently, in the darkness.\n\nIf only the man knew.\n\nWith the hood of his deep green cloak up, Rashka walked out of the brush into the circle of flickering light.\n\n“That is a quick promise to make,” Rashka announced, folding his hands in front of him. “Who are you to make it?”\n\n“Jon Lykos of the Western Barrens,” the man nodded his dark head in greeting. “And what are you doing out in the middle of the Green Expanse?”\n\n“Is that so unbelievable?” Rashka asked instead, his bright green eyes flickering around the small camp. Besides a bedroll, already spread out, and a rather full bag of supplies, there was nothing of particular interest.\n\nA bit disappointing but that was not a indication of skill.\n\n“They say there is a dragon in these woods,” Jon said calmly, slipping his sword back into its sheath and setting it beside him. It was still in easy reach, Rashka noticed.\n\n“Is that so?” Rashka said, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Then why are you here?”\n\n“To slay it,” Jon said, not with a show of bravado or ego but with a calm statement of fact. “It has started to feed on the villages that boarder the great forest.”\n\nRashka kept his face expressionless but a wave of disgust went through him.\n\nHumans tasted disgusting. \n\nTo think that Vexys would sink so low...\n\nRashka rolled his shoulders, straightening his back.\n\nWell, if this one failed, others would come to take his place.\n\n“Then it seems you and I have a similar goal,” Rashka announced, smiling slightly. He hoped his teeth didn’t seem too sharp in the dim light. “I, too, would like to see this dragon killed and done away with.”\n\n“Is that so?” Jon asked, his left eyebrow raised in curiosity. “You do not have the air of a warrior about you. Are you a wizard, by chance?”\n\nRashka lifted a hand, palm up, and vines poured out of it, twirling and waving down to the forest floor where they dissolved into green embers that burned without heat until they were gone.\n\n“A very skilled one,” Rashka smirked. The human might be humble but he had no such qualms.\n\nJon nodded, impressed.\n\n“I would be thankful for the help,” he admitted before he stood up. He looked Rashka over once more. “This dragon we’re after? It’s a red one from the Fire Mountains from the East and it’s a nasty piece of work.”\n\n“Yes, I am aware,” Rashka said dryly, letting his hand drop so that the vines vanished.\n\n“It came into the Green Expanse and drove the guardian out,” Jon continued, stepping around the fire to approach Rashka properly. “They don’t know what happened to the green dragon, only that Vexys had taken over its home and treasures. The villagers think the green dragon is dead.”\n\nRashka tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as the human stopped in front of him.\n\nWith the exception of this Vexys incident, Rashka hadn’t lived as long as he had by being a simpleton.\n\n“Do you know my name, Jon Lykos of the Western Barrens?” Rashka asked slowly, his voice low as the forest seemed to still around them and it waited for the answer.\n\n“Rashka,” Jon said without hesitation, “Guardian of the Green Expanse and Protector of the Wood.” Jon placed his fist over his heart and bowed his head. “I have come to help you regain your land and destroy the intruder that dared to take it from you.”\n\nRashka watched the human for a moment, considering. Then he smiled.\n\nPerhaps this human could be of use after all.",
"\"Watch out! He's coming for you!\" Steve shouted at me. Indeed, the dragon we were slaying today had decided to approach me rather than him, but not to kill me, at least not yet.\n\nThe dragon's voice entered my head, *Why are you doing this? I can smell the dragon that you are and yet you side with the mortals who want to see us all dead!* I decided not to respond immediately to the telepathic probe. That would take away the suspense of the situation this dragon was in.\n\nAs I raised my sword with my right hand, I could feel my own dragon instincts fighting back and restraining me. But I refused to let them take over and ruin what I had worked towards.\n\nThe dragon roared in agony. *WHY!?* the dragon's mind bellowed at me. I looked to the right, and realized I had missed my chance to take the strike. Steve's sword was wedged between two of the dragon's ribs.\n\nIn weakness, the dragon's head fell down onto the ground. His eyes stayed open. *Why would you side with the mortal races?*\n\nA sly smile crept across my face. I walked up to his left ear and whispered, \"You'll see.\"\n\nAt that moment the dragon fell unconscious. \"Is it supposed to do this?\" Steve yelled from the far side of the dragon. I ran over to where the sword was planted in the beast's gut. The sword's steel glowed with a bright blue light, and the dragon flesh around where it was planted was glowing like magma. The cracks of red-orange spread out and fractured across the dragon's surface. Up the lines of scales to the tip of his nose, across the wings, and down to the tip of his tail, the dragon was now completely covered. I looked towards Steve, \"That's exactly what the magical enchantment is supposed to do.\"\n\n\"Alright then Karen, how long are we gonna have to wait to pull it out?\"\n\n\"Not long,\" I replied. The glowing cracks in the dragon's skin were already starting to fade. \"Once the sword stops glowing and the cracks disappear, you can remove the sword.\"\n\n\"Well I'll say this, your enchantment is absolutely incredible! Who would have thought a single puncture could defeat a dragon so easily?\"\n\n\"That's why it's called magic, Steve.\" The sword stopped glowing, \"It's done. Grab your sword and let's head into town for a drink.\"\n\n\"I like the sound of that!\" Steve cheered. \"But we need to collect the bounty on this beast first. I'll go get the horses.\"\n\nOnce Steve had disappeared into the forest, I climbed into the mouth of the dragon. The saliva was acidic to human skin, but not mine, thankfully. In the darkness, I let out a puff of flame to aid my sight. As expected, the throat had closed up. Aided by my dragon muscles, I cut a chunk of the throat loose, and removed it. On the other side lay my prize: the human body of a young man, wearing no clothes. As my dragon eyes adjusted to the darkness, he woke up.\n\n*I... I thought I was killed. Where am I?*\n\n\"In your own throat,\" I responed, holding my sword defensively. He jumped, startled, and turned to face me on all fours.\n\n*It's YOU! When did you get so big? What is this place?*\n\n\"Like I said, it's your own throat. Although I guess I should say, it's your *old* throat. Why not try speaking with your new one?\"\n\nHe paused, confused, then looked back at the rest of his body and realized the lack of scales, wings, or tail. He tried to speak, but clearly didn't know quite how to yet, since only a squeak came out before he resorted to telepathy again. *Am I human? What is this? Why?*\n\n\"Calm down,\" I said, \"while you look human, you're definitely not.\" I then demonstrated this by blowing a fireball further into the corpse's digestive system. \"You're still very much a dragon in this form. But you're also new, so it will take a while for your powers to come back.\"\n\nHe stood up, using the wall of the throat for support. \"M- My p-powers?\" He was struggling with his speech, but not as much as I had when I first turned human.\n\nBefore I could explain, my heightened senses picked up the sound of distant horse hooves approaching. \"I have to go,\" I told him. \"Wait here, and you'll be safe until I get back tonight.\"\n\n\"Yo- You're leaving m- me?\" he asked reluctantly, still struggling to speak clearly.\n\n\"I have to if I want to protect my cover. Wait here and I'll explain everything when I come back tonight.\" With that, I darted back out of the corpse's mouth and ran towards the nearby river. I had to wash off the saliva before Steve got back.\n\nI was just back out of the river as Steve made it to the clearing with our horses. \"Decided to take a swim?\" he asked jokingly.\n\n\"I was getting all hot and sweaty in my armor, waiting for you to get back,\" I replied.\n\n\"That armor of yours will be nothing but rust soon if you keep that up.\" He dismounted his horse and tied them both to a tree. He then removed a large jar from one of the saddlebags. \"Now, let's drain this beast!\" Steve placed the jar on the ground just beneath the neck of the corpse, then used his sword to slash open the nearest artery. The jar was full in seconds, and blood was pooling on the ground. Steve picked up the jar and capped it with a cork stopper.\n\n\"I'll take the jar. You should wash your hands off,\" I said to Steve.\n\n\"Thanks,\" he said. He handed me the jar and walked toward the river.\n\nAs I approached the horses, Steve's started neighing in fear, and backed away. That figures though, when you carry the scent of a dragon. It took almost a year for my horse to get comfortable with my scent. I had only been with Steve for a fortnight.\n\n\"So she still doesn't like you?\" Steve yelled as he walked over.\n\n\"I guess not,\" I replied as I put the jar in one of my saddlebags.\n\n\"Too bad. Well, that reward money ain't going to collect itself!\" Steve untied and mounted his horse, and I followed suit.\n\n*One more thing,* I thought to the dragon, *what's your name?*\n\n*Argin* he replied.\n\n*Karen.*\n\nWith that, Steve and I rode off into town to collect our reward, and a couple pints of beer.\n\n---\n\nPart 2 below!",
"\"Why do I have to be the assistant?\" Nick whined from behind me. \n\n\"Because I'm hotter,\" I said without turning back to look at him. \n\n\"They don't care if you're hot,\" Nick said, catching up to me. He was six feet tall clad in steel armor from shoulder to toe with a great-sword and a massive crossbow on his back. He had a scar running down his cheek and dark eyes and short dark hair. In this form I had emulated one of my favorite princesses that I had once captured. I had long red hair, hazel eyes and I a tight fitting long sleeved tunic and trousers. I had no visible weapons. So I suppose he did look far more intimidating than I did. \n\n\"They want someone who looks intimidating,\" he said, as if reading my thoughts and brandished his great-sword, \"who looks strong!\" he held up the sword high in his left hand, \"not someone who can warm their bed at night,\" he finished, sheathing his sword.\n\nI laughed. \"Sometimes I wonder if you're less of a human than I am, Nick,\" I said. \"That's the first thing on every human's mind. I would know, the amount of knights coming after a princess I have captured is frankly, ridiculous,\" I shrugged. \"Hell, you're thinking of it right now about me, even though you know I'm a Dragon!\" I made a point looking at him and gesturing sensually. Nick blushed and looked away. \n\n\"I-I do not,\" he said. \n\n\"And regardless, swords are not the only way to display power,\" I smirked as the village came into view. \n\nNick's eyes widened. \"No, no, the last time you tried a pyromaniac display in huma-\"\n\n\"Shh!\" I said, as a rider came into view. \n\nNick opened his mouth to say something else, but I glared at him. He ground his teeth and shut up. \n\n\"Halt!\" called the rider in front of us. \n\nWe did. The man came closer and I noted he was your classic guard. Big muscles, scarred face, looking like he could crush your skull between his fingers.\n \n\"Who are ye?\" he asked. \n\nBefore Nick could say something, I spoke, \"We heard there were a Dragon in the area, there be any truth to that?\"\n\nOf course there was truth to it. I had taken to the skies myself and terrified the town, taking sheep, burning down unoccupied houses, crops and the like. Sadly none of them had recognized who I was; I hoped I would be able to put on a show during the day. \n\n\"I wasn't talking to ye, woman,\" the man growled, and turned towards Nick. \n\nNick went, very very still, and my eyes went flat. I looked at him, and he mouthed, \"Please,\" to me, his eyes wide. \n\nTo hell with that. How dare this buffoon insult a dragon. I would burn this entire village down, damn the scam. We could pick the gold off their charred corps-\n\n\"N-n-nay, sire,\" Nick said, \"I am merely the servant of Lady Rose, please address her, and not me.\"\n\nLady Rose, heh. I would never let him live that one down. Fine. This man could live. The man turned to look at me again, still wearing that scowl on his face. \"There may have been a dragon in the area, aye, but t'aint somethin' that would interest you, woman.\"\n\nI rolled my eyes and held out my had and a fireball appeared in it. A Dragon controlled her element no matter what form she was in. I tossed it up into the air, opened my mouth and ate it. \n\n\"Show off,\" Nick muttered next to me. \n\nI ignored him. \"We, peasant, are Dragon hunters, so watch your damn tongue,\" I said glaring openly at him. I went for a bit of flair and let the edges of my hair on fire. \"Now is there a Dragon in the area or not.\"\n\nThe scowl was gone, replaced by wide eyes and open mouth. Fear, my favorite emotion. \"Y-yes, lady, th-there is,\" he stammered. \"Please come to me' h-humble village, I'll have t-the mayor prepare.\" With that he turned and practically galloped away. \n\nI looked at Nick, and smirked, \"You see.\"\n\nNick looked like he was choking, and I frowned, \"are you alright?\" I asked.\n\nFinally Nick burst out laughing. \"Your hair, your hair's still on fire!\" he managed to say between gasps of laughter. \n\nI realized that the little flame that was supposed to accentuate my red hair had burnt half of it. I ground my teeth and extinguished the fire. It would look strange to have full hair, so I just evened out the edges of my now short hair. It only fell to my neck now. \"Look, can we go,\" I said, my cheeks burning.\n\n\"Of course, Lady Rose, master pyromaniac\" he said with a mock bow, \"lead the way.\"\n\n\"Whatever,\" I said, turning away so he wouldn't see me blush, and we headed to the village. \n***\n(minor edits)\n\nIf you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) for more of my work"
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[WP] woke up in a room with no memory, stepped out into a desert/forest, there was a girl there. she introduced herself as Eve, and said that your name is Adam. | 4 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"It was only when I stepped out of the concrete room and felt the cold grass on my feet that I realised that I was naked. I tried to take in as much as my surroundings as I could, but my mind was all over the place - yet stuck motionless at the same time. I could feel the thoughts crashing around my head, and yet I was overwhelmed by them. I closed my eyes and willed my mind quiet, reaching out for any clear line of thinking that I could grasp. \n\nWho am I?\n\nIt's not normal to not know the answer is it? I couldn't put my finger on it. My name, my family, nothing was coming to me. I looked down at my naked body once more in a search for clues - reasonably fit, reasonably muscular, a good size in all the right areas, I guess that's a start. But why would I be naked? Perhaps I had angered someone? But why and who? \n\nAnd just where was I? I started to slowly walk, carefully avoiding anything too sharp on the ground. The trees did a good job of hiding much of the sky from me, but the sunlight pierced the canopies and gave the forest I was walking through a somewhat otherworldly feel. Despite not knowing who I am or where I am, there was a peacefulness about this place. The soft hum of nature filled my ear drums in a way that eased me deeper and deeper into the forest.\n\nI must have walked for hours, aimlessly following my feet. A lack of knowing is surprising relaxing. I didn't know who I was missing, or whether I had anyone to miss. Maybe this is what I do every day? A sense of home did fill me, but I knew nothing else. Any time before my waking was a complete mystery. If it were something that would never come back to me, did it happen at all?\n\nMy thought process was interrupted by a noise. A noise that I hadn't ever heard before. It broke the natural whir of forest and it echoed in my ear and I was drawn to it. I eagerly made my way in the direction of the noise to investigate. Maybe I'll find answers.\n\nMy walk turned into a fast walk, and then into a jog as I began to recognise the noise as a *cry*. It was a cry of fear or pain, but rather a cry of sadness. I ran through the forest, trying my utmost to avoid too many scratches of branches and leaves on my bare body, when I came into a clearing. I stopped at the edge, carefully and purposely avoiding out into the open when I laid eyes on her.\n\nShe sad perched up against a tree in the opening, her head in her hands, sobbing. The sun filled the air and the blossom fell from overhead, but through it all I focused on her. Beauty emanated from her and her skin glowed... I was drawn into the opening, eyes fixed on this woman in front of me. I stood on a twig and the noise caused her to abruptly look up in shock. Her eyes were like shining sapphires. The tears from her eyes glistened on her face, and my eyes fell on her body. I couldn't help but look. Her naked body lay nestled perfectly on the grass and for a moment I wished that I were the grass and nature that caressed her soft skin... And then she screamed and I realised I was naked too.\n\nI snapped out of my trance and frantically aimed to cover myself up, rather awkwardly with my hands. She did like wise and then we were both frozen in a stand off.\n\nHer sitting perched covering his breasts and legs twisted to the side, me standing with my hands covering myself, both of us breathing heavily at our predicament. A sense of dread filled me. After the feeling of relaxing and contentment at being ignorant to my situation, a crying, naked woman has shattered my illusion and highlighted just how odd the situation is that I found myself.\n\n\"Hi,\" I found myself saying, somewhat surprising myself.\n\nShe just looked at me nervously, apparently sizing up whether I was a risk I guess.\n\n\"Okay so, I woke up naked and...\"\n\nStill no reply as she judged me some more.\n\n\"I'm Adam,\" *Adam*? What made me say that? \n\n\"Eve,\" she replied softly, \"My name is Eve.\"\n\n\"Hi Eve, that's a nice name,\" \n\nShe smiled, and spoke again, \"I'm sorry, I don't know what's going on. I woke up and I have no idea where I am, who I am, who put me here or anything... when I saw you I thought you might have been one of them.\"\n\nOdd.\n\n\"It's okay, I'd be the same. Well, am the same.\" I looked to the space on the grass beside her and she recognised the gesture and mouthed *sure*, so I hobbled over to take a seat next to her, carefully avoiding flashing her anymore than I already had. \n\n\"So,\" I began, \"how long have you been awake?\"\n\n\"Not long, a few hours I guess.\"\n\n\"Did you wake up in a room too?\"\n\n\"A room?\" she replied with a puzzled look on her face.\n\n\"Yeah you know, four walls, a roof-\"\n\n\"I know what a room is.\" she spat back.\n\n\"Oh - sorry\" I said sympathetically, \"Not sure how this lack of memory thing works...\"\n\n\"But no. I woke up here in this clearing and well I haven't left.\"\n\n\"Hmm... odd.\"\n\nWe sat in silence for what must have been ten minutes. After all, what do you speak about when neither person can remember a thing? \n\n\"Say, what's that?\" she asked pointing over at something up above us. She stood up, either forgetting about being completely naked or simply not caring. \n\nI begrudgingly took my eyes away from her, and looked up at where she was looking, before I too stood up to take a better look.\n\n\"Is that... a camera?\"\n\n________________________________\n\n*If you liked this please feel free to check out r/ByDLB where I post most of my stories! Thank you!*\n\n"
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Prompt inspired by me watching a clock in the back of an ambulance and realizing that's the clock they must use to call time of death, but I feel like it could make an interesting fantasy/sci-fi prompt? I'm excited to see what y'all do with it | [WP] The clock that counted death | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Even though it makes no sound, I can hear its ticking everywhere I go, or rather I can feel it. The watch, embedded in my skin at the age of 9, is a constant reminder of what little time we all have. \n\nIf I'm lucky, it stays at the 6 o'clock position. This signifies sustainability, people being born at the same rate as others die. A long time ago, I saw the hand briefly touch the 7, but I'm starting to think that was the daydream of a child. \n\nThese days...I can feel the hand constantly moving as sickness rips across the world, storms toss boats onto reefs, the temperature bakes those living near the equator. \n\nThe human race is dying. Our watches are our constant, silent reminder. 'Be careful,' it whispers. 'Go about your business, but you're still going to die.'\n\nWhen I was 12, I tried ripping the watch out of my arm. A bomb had been detonated and an entire country had died, causing the dial on my wrist to spin wildly and then descend to the 4. I'd run crying to my mother. \"I want it off,\" I sobbed, \"I don't want to die.\"\n\nShe just looked at me, a mother with nothing to say. Parents can't lie about death when there's a gauge embedded in your skin, reminding you how disposable you are, how fleeting life is in a poisoned world. So she just sighed and went back to counting rations, and I screamed in rage at the seeming uselessness of my mother.\n\nSince then, I cover the watch each morning with a bandage, hide the face that tells me how close we are to extinction. But I can still feel it. \n\nIt's hard to feel alive with the ticking of death in your soul.\n\nEdit: quick wording tweak!\n\n\nr/DieKarrotte"
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"1496421052",
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[WP] Its your first day delivering pizzas. Your first route takes you to a rumored haunted house. As you press the door bell, the door opens with no one there. The rumors are true and you decide to go in to investigate. | 4 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Pathetic! - I yelled while trying to avoid the huge cracks on the road. The wind was blowing towards me so hard, I could feel the motor making an extra effort to keep going uphill – Must be some teen punks making calls to delivery places trying to be “cool” while telling their weekend “super-prank” story on Monday at school.\n\nI watched at my chronometer, 27:23 – at least I’ll make those punks pay for it, can’t believe Donna fall for it taking that call, that girl should get fired and send back to her small town, such a dum…- I did a quick stir at the handlebar trying to avoid the oddly placed barbed wire standing on the road. The mist was getting heavier, diminishing my vision to just one meter forward. I slowed down. – Those punks! I could have died right there! Perhaps this is just an “initiation” from the pizzeria, what a twisted organizational culture. \n\nI was sent to an abandoned facility that used to be a clinic for the mutilated and burned war pilots during WWII. It was closed, bought by an iconic real estate agent, and abandoned as an un-started project. Rumor has it that the real estate agent was killed by mystic beings that appear after midnight. \n\nAnd there I was, pressing the doorbell of an abandoned war clinic known to be haunted (by everyone, except Donkey-face-Donna). I knocked really hard at the wide gates when one of them opened in a creepy fashion. I stepped inside and found myself in a smoky room – Did someone say pizza! – I said as part of the pizzeria’s bitter protocol.\n\nMe – A deep voiced said while the door closed by itself.\n\n-Right, can’t see a thing, it’s a bomb of a prank, and it’s going to be 12 bucks anyway.\n\nThe lights went on but I couldn’t see the other speaker - Free pizza you promised.\n \n-Yeah, if I’d deliver it 30minutes late and unfortunately for you – I checked at my chronometer but it was still running since I forgot to stop it. I nervously miss clicked the button and the display went back to watch, it was midnight. Lights went off.\n\nHA HA HA – the deep voice laughed – So it’s free? – He asked in a strangely sweet manner.\n\n-I don’t want to sound rude, but that creepy barbed wire of yours almost got me killed, that’s the reason why I got late.\n\n-We’re all dead here, join us – The lights went back on showing a dozen of dead soldiers on their full war uniform standing at the exit. \n\nI threw the pizza as a distraction and ran to the next room; a smell of wine and cheap perfume attacked me as I came in. I hid in a drug inventory and remained as quiet as possible. \n\n– Block the exit and check the other rooms, I will look for him here! – The first deep voiced ordered.\n\nAs I heard him get closer to the drug inventory, I shoved him with the door and pickpocketed his wallet (I got this nimble skill on Detroit, my hometown) – I told you it was 12 bucks sir- I ran following the exit signs and outrunned a dead armless soldier (I wonder what he was thinking to do if he had got close enough).\n \nI picked up my motorcycle and drove as fast as possible back to the pizzeria.\n\nOver the sound of the motor and my heavy respiration I could hear the deep voice yelling – I SAID **NO PINNEAPLE**, YOU MONSTERS!\n",
"\"Hey is this some type of stupid joke or what? Seriously, if you don't pay up, we're going to put you on the do not deliver list.\"\n\n\"Hang on, hang on! Don't get your panties in a bunch, geeze.\"\n\nJust then a ghost appeared. He was a young man, not all that much older than me, but it was obvious he came from a different time. He looked like he hoped right out of some old school beatnik movie. \n\n\"Holy fuck,\" I said, \"you're real.\"\n\n\"Well yeah. I mean, if I wasn't real, don't you think I'd already be on the do not call list?\"\n\n\"Oh yeah..... So ummm, can you pay?\"\n\nThe ghost sighed, \"of course I can. I'm a ghost, not a thief. Check in that drawer there, you'll find some money. But only take what you need or I swear to God I will haunt the shit out of you!\"\n\n\"Yeah yeah, I'm a pizza delivery driver, not a thief. Geeze. So how do you get all this money?\"\n\n\"Seances. People come by, ask me to communicate with the other side. Fifty bucks and I'll put you in touch with anyone you want, assuming they are dead, of course.\"\n\n\"So how do you eat pizza?\"\n\n\"What? I can't, I'm a ghost. No, no, you have to eat it for me and describe it to me.\" \n\nI sigh, \"I fucking hate anchovies.\" \n\n\"Suck it up sonny, I tip well.\" "
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[WP] You're a big fan of fantasy movies. Unfortunately, your friend, a wizard, won't stop nitpicking them. | 14 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"“Seriously?” I demanded.\n\nIf I’d expected shame, Aethelstan disappointed me. “Absolutely,” he said stubbornly. “The best we’ve seen.”\n\n“Staaaan,” I moaned. “You laughed at *Lord of the Rings*.”\n\n“Yes,” he confirmed. “Because the magic was laughable.”\n\n“You heckled your way through *Harry Potter.*”\n\n“All eight movies,” he agreed amiably.\n\n“You never shut up during *The Neverending Story*.”\n\n“Nope.”\n\n“You—you mocked *Monty Python and the Holy Grail*!”\n\nStan grinned. “You *are* doing the alliteration on purpose! I thought so.”\n\n“Not the point,” I growled. “The *point* is that I’ve spent the last two years showing you the best fantasy movies out there, and every time you’ve found some major flaw. It’s never good enough for you. And now—”\n\n“Hey,” Stan protested. “I’m entitled to my opinion. Do you see me threatening to turn you into a frog every time you disagree with me?”\n\n“No, because I like frogs. You’d turn me into a cockroach or something.” I sighed. “I just…I don’t know, I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”\n\nStan took my shoulders and looked me in the eye. To his credit, he tried to look serious. “Moira. I realize this hurts you deeply on some weirdly personal level, but it’s not the end of the world. I’m still me. I’m just telling you that *Eragon* is the best, most accurate depiction of magic I’ve seen to date in mundane media.”\n\nI winced. Really, it was my fault for even putting it on our list. More than Stan’s dubious taste in movies, his claim of accuracy bothered me. Could reality really be that…cliched? That hackneyed? The kind of thing a teenager could design in conjunction with a predictable storyline and a sickeningly sweet romantic subplot?\n\n“I…Stan, my whole idea of the universe has just been shaken. I need time to digest this.” I raised a hand against his interruption. “I don’t doubt you, I’m just grieving for my idealistic notions of magic.”\n\n“There is a K, if that makes you feel better,” Stan volunteered, dropped his hands from my shoulders and returning to the couch. When I looked puzzled, he clarified, “Magick.” \n\nI nodded, hearing the extra letter this time. “Well, that’s something, I guess.” \n\nWe were both quiet for a moment while Stan cleaned up our popcorn bowls, removing the butter and leftover kernels with a flick of his wrist from his seat in the living room.\n\n“I liked *The Princess Bride* too,” he finally offered in a conciliatory tone. “So our tastes aren’t so different.”\n\n“That doesn’t count,” I said dismissively. “That just means you have a soul.”",
"'Oh, no, not Harry Potter, come on, I told you that thing was garbage.'\n\nI glared at Magus. 'You said it was my choice, Mag. And I choose Harry Potter.'\n\n'But Lu! The spells aren't even *close* to right! I mean, \"wingardium leviosa\", come *on*, it's *aviensis* leviosa --' The DVD I was holding in my hand lifted up into the air. \n\n'Will you stop that? And come on, Mag, it's fiction. They're allowed to be unreal.'\n\nHe made a gesture and the DVD landed in my hand again. 'But what if some kid gets the wrong idea? I mean, dragons, for example. Everyone pictures them as these huge menacing fire breathing monsters. *You* know Mr. Scaly wouldn't harm a fly, but what if someone on the street sees me and flips out?' He stroked the long snakelike dragon in his lap and Mr Scaly gave a contented purr.\n\n'There aren't any dragons in this one. It's their first year at Hogwarts.'\n\n'And that's another thing! I didn't get into some fancy pants boarding school like all those dumb rich wizards. I *worked* for my degree at Zebustibar's! Four years of magical training, and these kids make it look like some sort of brilliant summer camp! If I'd had a course like that...'\n\n'Come on, it's cool to see the cool world -- fancy robes and broomsticks and all that.'\n\n'Pfft. Those robes wouldn't last a week in a *real* magical workshop. Try wearing something practical for once!' He points to his well-worn and very stained jeans. 'These are what they should be wearing, honestly. And as for the broomsticks --'\n\nI couldn't take that. 'But flying is fun!'\n\n'That's what those movies tell you. Try doing it at dead of night in a hailstorm for nine hours. At least with carpets you have somewhere comfortable to sit.'\n\n'Don't you at least like the story? Underpriveledged boy discovers great talent and defeats evil?'\n\n'Fuck no! Come on, Luann, have I ever introduced you to a fellow wizard or witch that was even remotely evil?'\n\n'You're looking pretty evil to me right now,' I muttered, sulkily.\n\n'We have tests for that kind of thing. *Peer* reviews. Bloody red tape as far as the eye can see. *Proper* registration. *None* of us is about to go and conquer the world.'\n\nI huffed. 'The story though. Underdog, and all that.'\n\n'Come on, Lu. When is some under aged kid ever going to beat a fully trained and competent adult like me? I mean, I actually *work* for my magic talent. Harry fucking Potter just gets all the *luck*.'\n\n'Honestly,' I said, throwing the DVD on the floor, 'you ruin every movie night, Mag.'"
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[removed] | [WP] Your story begins as a generic creepypasta about Slenderman and ends as a children's book about potty training | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"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\nNo troll or meme-based prompts. \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/6ez4lr/wp_your_story_begins_as_a_generic_creepypasta/%0A%0A)\n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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[WP] You love spending time at your auntie's house, but you must never open the red door. | 10 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"My auntie was a sweetheart, a real sweetheart, y'know? Just the best. I love her. God bless her. Absolute sweetheart. \n\nBut she was tremendously old, tremendously... I remember she took me outside one time and pointed to this huge tree - it was absolutely huge, gigantic, the biggest tree on the block by far, just a tremendous, tremendous tree - and she points to this tree and says, \"Let me tell you. You don't know this. But I was born before this tree. I'm older than this tree.\" \n\nTrue story. I've got pictures, other people confirmed it..It was just incredible, absolutely amazing.\n\nBut as I got older, I started noticing that she wasn't all the way there mentally, like she might be a little...I dont want to say crazy, but I'm going to say crazy for now because I cant think of another word to use. But, yeah. She was crazy. I don't like using that word, but she was. \n\nAnd nobody wanted to say it, they didn't want to talk about it. I never understood that. You go up to one of the adults and whisper, \"Hey, is Auntie..?\" And they don't want you to say it, they don't walk to talk about it. \"Be quiet.\" Just like that. I never understood that.\n\nSo one summer I'm staying at her house and I see this red door in her house that I've never seen before; and my aunt tells me not to go through the door, so naturally I want to go through the door - what kid wouldn't?\n\nAnd as soon as she's out of sight, I run to the door and I open the door and I smell this ridiculously horrible smell coming from inside, just horrible. And it's dark, and it's stinky, and it's nasty. \n\nI turn around to go find a flashlight, and my auntie is standing right there, and boy does she look pissed!\n\nAnd she says, \"I thought I told you not to open the door.\"\n\nAnd I say...because she's crazy, remember? So I'm thinking she won't remember telling me not to open door, and I go, \"No, you didn't tell me.\"\n\nThen she gives me this really creepy smile and says, \"Oh well then that's too bad because now you have to die.\"\n\nAnd she pushes me and I fall backward into the darkness, while she slams the door shut.\n",
"Auntie Mae's house was wonderful. Her ranch was deep in the neck of the woods and surrounded by lush greenery. Visiting her was always a beautiful escape from the concrete jungle.\n\nWhen my parents dropped me off for the weekend, Auntie Mae explained the house rules as she always did. I knew them, of course, but there wasn't a need to be rude. I checked them off in my head as she went down the list. \n\nStay in bed after dark. Check.\nNo wandering into the forest. Check.\nNever. Never open the red door. Check.\n\nI always followed the first two rules as they were self-explanatory. I cherished my sleep so staying in bed was never a problem. I have wanted to go into the forest and sometimes, I went a few yards in. If I went any farther, I would get afraid I would get lost, so I chickened out every year. \n\nRule number three was different. Never open the red door. I always remembered this rule over the rest because of the peculiarity of it. There wasn't a red door in the house. Believe me, I checked every time. \n\nI even checked this morning when I arrived. But it was the same result. No red door. My parents didn't know what crazy Auntie Mae was talking about either. But this only furthered my curiosity.\n\nI gave up on it rather quickly and spent the remainder of the day drawing pictures of the scenery out on her front porch. She invited me in for supper where she served me some chicken pot pie and corn. It wasn't the best tasting food but I got through it. I then excused myself up into the guest bedroom and used the rest of my night to get some reading done.\n\nAt about 11, right before I was about to sleep, a light illuminated my window. At first I thought maybe it was a strike of lightning, but there was no rain or thunder, and the light lingered. When I looked out, I could see a small glow coming from deep into the forest. It was nothing like I've ever seen before. \n\nI knew better than to go out but damn it, my curiosity always gets the best of me. So, I snuck out of my room, went across the rickety floorboard, and out the front door. Auntie Mae couldn't of heard me, I was as silent as a mouse. \n\nI walked into the grassy plain that lies just before the forest. I stepped softly as to not step on any hidden stones or branches that would hurt my bare feet. The light was still glowing, maybe 100 yards out. \n\nI took a deep breath. And then another.\n\nI entered into the woods, maneuvering past bushes, trees, logs, and the like, getting closer and closer. I didn't have a plan to go back other than to turn directly around and pray that was the direction Auntie Mae's house was. \n\nThe closer I got, the more the light radiated. The trees and ground became more visible. \n\nAn open area was before me. A mound of grass that was taller than me, almost like a Hobbit-hole, remained in the center. A single crimson-red door, fit perfectly in the the earth. An immense amount of light was escaping from the hinges, and wooden spaces of the door. \n\nI approached it with caution. My eyes darted around me. Someone was watching me, I could feel it. \n\nMy fingers smoothed over the metal handle before I grasped it. I was ready. There was no going back.\n\nI opened the door.\n\nThere was nothing but darkness inside. All the light was gone in an instant. I stood there with the door still wide open. \n\nA cold hand clenched my right shoulder. It was Auntie Mae's. I could tell by the silver ring on her hand. \n\n\"What --\" I started to say.\n\n\"Oh Claire,\" she said. \"I always had high hopes for you and you came through to the end. Splendid job. Splendid.\"\n\nI was so confused. I wanted to ask questions but my mind was moving so fast that my mouth couldn't keep up. \n\n\"Do you have any idea what you did for me Claire?\"\n\nI gazed at her. She wasn't looking at me. Instead, her attention was drawn towards the darkness. I shook my head.\n\n\"That light that you just opened up? Those were souls. Men, women, and children of all ages.\" Her grip tightened, causing pain to shoot up my right shoulder. \"I'm a collector and this is my vessel. Now the tricky thing for any collector is that we are not allowed to release the souls we collect.\"\n\nI tried to break free and run but her grip tightened even more. I screamed in agony as my bones cracked under her strength. I collapsed onto the ground, holding my shoulder with my other hand. \n\n\"So we need to find a way to open our vessel in order to receive the benefits of those souls. It's tricky, but luckily enough I knew I could count on you.\" \n\nShe stepped into the doorway. Her skin began to smoothen over the wrinkles. Her youth began flowing back into her. Within an instant, Auntie Mae became a beautiful young girl that couldn't have been older than me. \n\n\"Once you open a collector's door Claire, you're given two options just as your mother and father were given.\"\n\nThis was too unreal. Too crazy to be true. This defied everything I believed in.\n\n\"You can either train to be a Collector like your family. You will steal the souls of others to keep your own immortality and youth.\"\n\nI could barely get the words out but I managed to say, \"And the other?\"\n\n\"If you do not wish to feed off of others then you will be consumed. Like your brothers and sisters before you.\"\n\n----------------------------------------------------\n\nHoly shit, this was a lot longer than I expected but it was a lot of fun writing that! Can't believe I got all that down during my lunch break. Hope you all enjoyed it! I always enjoy reading feedback, whether positive or negative.",
"The Red door at my Aunts\n\n\nShe never wants it open\n\n\nI beg and beg but she refuses\n\n\nThe mystery is golden\n\n\nI sneak down at night\n\n\nAnd open the door\n\n\nI turn on the light\n\n\nAnd see bodies on the floor.",
"Carol held the cap up in her hands. It looked like the kind of hat that pilots wore a long time ago with a pair of goggles that seemed like they were permanently attached to it. It also had a fine leathery feel and was very light. Maybe just a little loose on her head when she tried it on. The lens on the goggles were dusty and fogged from age and she could barely make out the light that shined through the red door of the room. \n\nShe kept the cap on her head and continued to explore more of the dimly lit room. On one end was a trophy case filled with memorabilia and awards. Inside, sat a framed picture. Upon closer inspection she could see a crowd gathered around two people in front of city hall. She knew the place from learning about in class, but it looked older somehow.\n\nOne of the two people wore a suit and tie, and the other person was a young woman. She was in a brown leather jacket, gloves, with a scarf around her neck. Carol recognized the cap on her head as the one she had on. The woman was smiling and shaking the hand of the man in the suit as he handed her something shiny. A very large plaque on which it read: \"The Aviator\".\n\nThere were a lot of other things that looked just like the woman in the picture in the room. In the corner was a mannequin with the same attire, small statues and figures as well as a large poster featuring her as one of several other people in cool costumes. They were all standing side by side standing in heroic poses.\n\n\"Carol!\" The sudden voice came from the doorway and made her jump. It was her Aunt Carolyn quickly making her way towards her.\n\n\"What did I tell you about opening this door?\" She said, her voice sounding more worried than angry.\n\n\"Is that you Aunt Carolyn?\" Her grand niece asked, pointing to the trophy case. \"Were you a pilot?\"\n\nCarolyn looked to the trophy case and to Carol who stood with an over sized pilot's cap on her head. It was almost as if...\n\nNo. Her parents had been strict with their demands. Take care of her while they were away and she was not to be exposed to any of this. They'd even named Carol after her. \n\nBut in the last year, she'd shown the signs. When Carol ran around the farm, she practically glided across that grass. And when she fell, she did it so slowly that a scrape never came from it. And the child had no idea. What kind of Auntie would she be if there was no one to tell her why it was just her visiting and not all her other siblings.\n\n\"I'm sorry Aunt Carolyn. I was just really really curious. I won't do it again.\" Carol said solemnly with a tinge of sadness.\n\nCarolyn sighed. \n\n\"I wasn't a pilot.\" She said shooing the girl away from the trophy case and towards one of the two chairs that sat in the room. Her face lit up realizing a story, and quickly jumped into one of them and waited.\n\nCarolyn opened the trophy case and took the picture out and wiped some dust off of the frame. She had been so much younger then, no grey in that blonde hair, wrinkles on that skin. It had been so long since she'd come into this room. Picture in hand she sat herself down onto the other chair next to Carol. A small plume of dust escaping from the cushions. \n\n\"You see.\" She began, looking at Carol who was beaming. \"I didn't need a plane to fly.\""
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[WP] You are Krongor the Conqueror. You're not very good at your job, but your pretty lucky. These are your tales. | 9 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Krongor thumped the arm of his Deck Chair, it's what he insisted he called it seeing it was on the ship's deck and a chair, \"Commander transition into real space! We must start the invasion as soon as possible!\". Warning klaxons started wailing as the navigator, not the commander, dropped the Flag Ship from warp speed to sub-light speed, not in fact transitioning into real space. \n\nThe vessel Krongor's Finger, because it poked the chest in challenge of all they met, appeared in high orbit of the chosen world of conquest. Sensor satellites were spat out into a wide net sucking in as much intelligence as possible, which as usual would be ignored by the glorious Chief Blood Splatterer and Fingerer Krongor the Conquerer. \"My lord! This planet has orbital defences but they appear offline.\" cried out a monitor monitor, another of Krongor's naming ideas, before he fled down the corridor as the inevitable beer bottle was thrown at him. \"Dammit commander take us to cover behind that thing over there!\" a half full beer bottle was thrown as the bridge monitor, bursting roughly in the direction of a local moon \"full speed man! before we're shot to pieces\". The navigator caught the beer bottle with a free hand and urged the ship forward at a safe speed, the sheer bulk of the Finger had a stopping distance measured in light seconds \"Faster than that, boost speed!\" another bottle was flung, caught and desposited in a bin. Sighing deeply the navigator hit the boost, for less than a second the Finger moved faster than light and stopped 100 miles from collision with the moon and no chance of slowing down. \n\nThe bridge crew without much fuss strapped into their chairs with six point harasses, put in mouth guards and clipped on foam helmet then braced for impacted. The klaxons screamed again while Krongor went beserk crying for shields and reverse thrusters. Finger's shields were pushed to the nose and all systems de-powered to give the shields the strength to prevent catastrophic explosion. \n\nThe immense craft punched into the moon like a beer bottle through a meringue, shattering the heavenly body. Planetary defence batteries opened fire trying desperately to break up the pieces of moon that started drifted into a decaying orbit.\n\nGlyazix III was more than a match for the Fingering Armada, immense economy and technology that could out shoot even the largest fleet with a culture of endurance. Fortunately for Krongor his ship survived exploding a moon and the moon crushed all survivors leaving a full planet of booty to plunder.\n\nAnother glorious victory for Krongor accidental conqueror "
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"1496507378",
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[WP] Aliens have invaded earth. They offer the key to immortality and light speed travel... In exchange for 3.5 billion slaves. | 86 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"War. They set us to war. To be fair we are remarkably good at it. Still we are slaves, heavily armed armored immortal slaves with land and riches after 100 years of service, but slaves nonetheless.\n\nThe Sarasana needed soldiers. Drones and AI weren't cutting it against the hive mind of the Ra'ka, so they came to Earth by all rights a backwater of little value to anyone and offered us salvation in exchange for violence and rage.\n\n\"Shal\", I can't actually pronounce my owners name, \"how many on the ground?\" I ask laying into the drop pod.\n\n\"Nine hundred thirty two, lightly armed.\" Shal responds, well the translator responds, the various bioluminescent patches on his head flash brightly in an almost hypnotizing pattern. His hands glide over a holographic display with inhuman dexterity ushering the drop pod to close and securing me in my hopefully temporary coffin.\n\n\"So can I have some jerky if I bring the plasma cannon back in one piece this time?\" I ask hopefully. I probably shouldn't have used the last one to beat a centurion to death, but it's charge ran dry and I really wanted that ugly bug dead.\n\n\"You do not get treats for fulfilling contractual obligations!\" flashed angrily followed by an exasperated sigh. \"Just don't desecrate any corpses this time and I'll see what we can pick up at the next resupply.\"\n\n\"Fine. I'll try not to put them in any funny posthumous poses.\" I sigh. This going to be boring, there'll be nothing to do once I'm waiting for evac. A hiss indicate the seals have engaged signaling the pods inevitable descent on the world below. \nI hate this part, it's like a drop on a roller coaster that goes on just a bit too long with a stop that's a little to sudden.\n\nThe muted explosion and my stomach drops. Here we go 30 to impact. I'm hitting turbulence, sounds like the Ra'ka figured out what's in the pods. Not that it matters much, only takes one in five making landfall for them to be thoroughly and completely fucked. Turns out humans under the effects of adrenaline cause feedback in psionics and a hive mind that relies on them for coordination is hilariously screwed in our presence.\n\n5 to impact. An electric shock hits me as the armor welded to my spine begins injecting me with stims. I love this part, just a few moments when everything falls away and I'm completely at peace.\n\nImpact. Pod's hatch blows away. 14 icons ping on my visor, It's going to be a blood bath. My vision fades to red, now it's just enemies, targets, bugs. RAGE! \nImpact -120 minutes, me and 14 others sit at the evac point. Some are nursing minor wounds, others sleeping or cleaning gore from their armor and weapons. I'm trying to figure out why I have a pile of chitin plates at my feet and why one of them has a smiley face painted with viscera on it.\n\nThe shuttles arives -130 minutes. My radio clicks on as soon as I'm on the craft, \"I TOLD YOU NO DESECRATION!\", how does someone that communicates with light even scream?\n\n\"Sorry. It's just I get a little caught up in the fight and---\" \n\"A LITTLE!?\", Shal cuts me off, \"That's 20 scalps, how did you even collect that many without taking enemy fire?\"\n\n\"Sorry\" I stutter. \"I made you something from one of them\" I say proudly holding the one with a smile on it in my helmet's view.\n\n\"That's um.. very nice\" Shal reassures me, \"thank you Charles\". Yup this is going out the air lock about 5 seconds into our return, but hey I tried. \"I'll see if I can find you some preserved meat.\"\n\n\"WOOOO!!! JERKY!!!\", my exclamation draws the attention of the other humans on the transport, several roll their eyes at my outburst. \"Oh fuck you. I done good, so I get jerky.\" The excited dancing does not ease the tide of silent vitriol from my fellows.",
"My fellow Americans. I have some good news and some bad news for you.\n\nThe good news is that I, President Spanky, have been given the secret of immortality. It's really quite simple. I mean, you wouldn't believe how cheap and easy this was. Just like my last date. (chuckles) I kid, I kid. My lovely wife Becky has only been dead three months. I'm not ready to date. Also, the alien's timing kind of sucks. You gotta be alive to get the treatment. (yells at floor) I tried, baby! Hope you're warm down there!\n\nAlso, they threw in the ability to travel at the speed of light. You won't even need a spaceship! Your strolling speed will be the same as Adam, from the Bible. A fast walker, that Adam. Just try not to bump into each other, y'all.\n\nNow then, the bad news. In exchange for the good stuff, I gotta send a shitload of you off to an alien planet where you will be slaves for the rest of your lives. Sadly, your lives will be eternal, because that's how they roll. \n\nAnyhow, I've already gotten the treatment. I'm going to live forever, so no hurry in paying that parking ticket. What's a late fee when you've got infinity? So good night, and may God bless the United States of America. We now return you to the end of the Super Bowl. ",
"\"So how much do you know about human culture?\" Jason asked. His forehead was beaded with sweat; this was easily the biggest risk he had ever taken. \nThe alien, whose name seemed to comprise solely of metallic clicking and scratching sounds, started viciously making chattering sounds, shaking the equivalent of its head simultaneously. It looks like a Colin to me; I shall call it Colin, I thought. \n\nThe subtext seemed clear, as English words appeared on a screen behind Colin. \"Your species is weak and pathetic. You are not worth the time of the mighty ___.\" That last bit didn't seem to translate - we didn't have a name for them yet. Let's call them the Colinians. \"Do you accept our deal or not.\"\n\nI had to chuckle a little. I was reminded of an old phrase - one of my favourites. Pride comes before a fall. \"Yes, sorry. I, on behalf of the planet earth, accept your deal.\" Jason was beginning to have second thoughts, but it was too late now. \"Now, with regards to the payment of slaves.\"\n\nThe prospect seemed to excite Colin. It's clicking got faster, it's head bobbing from side to side; it even started to gesticulate somewhat. \"When will the slaves be ready?\" The screen read. \n\n\"Yes. About that; I was wondering if you wanted your standard slave package, or our special deluxe super-slaves,\" Jason stuttered slightly. The pressure bad never been higher. \"You see, we have the sect on earth, of workers. Marvellous they are. Absolutely incredible. You see, they can lift around 50 times their on bodyweight; and that's just the beginning.\" I had a big long speech prepared, and began rattling facts about this deluxe package at full speed. No more than a minute in, it had the desired effect. \n\n\"ENOUGH. We will take these 'deluxe slaves' as you say, provided you produce all 3.5 billion within the next planetary orbit.\" Colin seemed a bit anxious to get going; I though we were just getting to know each other, myself. \n\n\"Certainly - in fact, I have them now; let me just go and get them.\" Jason retreated to the pod he arrived in, and retrieved a large wooded crate, carrying it carefully over to Colin. \"Here is the first box; the rest are in the pod. I'll take those immortality pills and the light speed diagrams, if you please.\" \n\nColin begrudgingly handed over the pills and the diagrams. In his hands, Jason held the key to humanity's survival. In the mean time, Jason retrieved two other crates from the pod. As he left them, looking rather puzzled, he looked over his shoulder and said \"oh, and did I mention they are also travel sized?\"\n\nJason got in his pod and set a course for home, taking special care to photograph the diagrams and send them via instant message to the ground team. He also put the pills in a small capsule, specially designed to fall to earth, should Colin have a sudden change of heart about his deal.\n\nMeanwhile, Colin was in something of a daze. The crates contained nothing but a seething black mass of tiny creatures, even more puny that the human who had given them to him. On the side of each crate, the word 'ants' was written. Colin could only assume this was some other word for slave in the human language. \n\n",
"\"You cant be serious.\" \n\nShe was incredulous. I had worked with her long enough to know when to play my cards close and when to lay them all out. My entire deck was on the table.\n\n\"Does it look like I'm joking?\" I wasn't. \"We have an opportunity to free ourselves from not only this planet but from death and all while getting rid of, if you'll pardon me Doctor, an annoyance on the entire species.\"\n\n\"They'll never go for it, you know that right?\"\n\n\"Well that's why we're all here right? To figure out a way to make them go for it. Rogers, How much time do we have?\"\n\n\"One hour to next transmission window sir.\"\n\n\"Thank you Rogers.\"\n\n\"This will be the last window, sir\"\n\n\"I *know* Rogers. Thank you son, carry on.\"\n\nHis salute was crisp and heel turn precise. He'd probably make Colonel one day, but if this works there probably wont be any more Colonels. I drank from the hours old cold coffee, trying to work the problem and I was fresh out of ideas. \n\nThe Visitors arrived last year and made their offer known to the entire planet at once. It was broadcast on all screens and radios simultaneously in all languages. The areas without any communication devices reported hearing the voice as though it were inside their own head. I still haven't shaken the experience. \n\n*Greetings. *\n\n*We are representatives of the Dynamic Intergalactic Commerce Syndicate. We have observed your world for some time and the decision has been made to offer you entrance into the Syndicate. As charter members of the Syndicate you will be granted the gift of Hyperlight travel and Cellular Regeneration technology through which you will become effectively immortal. In exchange for these gifts we require an investment on your part. Labor.*\n\n*We require 3.5 billion individuals of your world to become indefinite indentured labor on our core worlds. We will return once per quarter orbit of your world around your home star for a period of one full orbit. At that time if no agreement has been reached we will rescind the offer and your world will be left out of the Syndicate for a period of no less than one thousand orbits.*\n\n*Have a pleasant solar cycle*\n\nWhen the transmission ended, everything else did as well. The stock market cratered. Looting, riots, every imaginable behavior of a panicked civilization presented with the prospect of half of its population being offered up for slavery in exchange for limitless prosperity was taking it toll. Thousands have already died from the violence, tens of thousands more from the famines. It seems that humanity was doing its best to whittle itself down to the 3.5 billion so that everyone would be in the same pot. \n\nIt didn't take long for the governments to get their acts together and declare almost world wide martial law. Food was beginning to flow back into the stores, but nothing from out of country. Every border was hard sealed. I remember them saying it would take years to get a border wall made. I guess when the chips are really down the impossible can happen. Mexico built their side in three months and Canada, four. \n\nMy team was assembled from the top negotiators, linguists, and diplomats from around the world. We had six months to figure out a way to get the technology without losing half of the species. Things were not going well. I gave up weeks ago trying to reason with these people, if the aliens want them they can have them as far as I was concerned. I gave them the answer, defended it against what the aliens said and it was solid. Half the group said it was stupid and the other half crazy. At this point I would take crazy and stupid. \n\nThe five minute klaxon sounded and I began my walk to the broadcast booth. I hadn't informed my superiors of my intent, otherwise I wouldn't be able to even attempt it. I sent them up what the group had decided would be best: lottery. It was approved by all governments. When the people actually find out that the \"lottery\" is completely rigged it'll be far too late. I wasn't going to have any of it. \n\nI sat in the seat behind the desk. I hadn't shaved for the occasion. I would either be a hero or a traitor and I didn't give a damn either way. The camera man was signaling that the transmission was coming in and we were live in 5...4...3...2...\n\n\"Greetings Representative Davis\" It was Representative Barlq. He was the only face we have ever seen of the Syndicate.\n\n\"Hey Barlq, how it going?\" I scanned the room and the the pale faces of the staff were all I needed to know that this was going to happen.\n\n\"Things are amicable Mr. Davis. Have you made a final decision regarding the Syndicate offer?\"\n\n\"Yeah about that, your request was for 3.5 billion individuals from our world, yes?\"\n\n\"That is correct Mr. Davis?\"\n\n\"Very well. I would like to propose a counter offer if you're open.\"\n\n\"The Syndicate is always open to negotiation.\"\n\n\"Thats more like it Barlq! How about 7 billion individuals for a seat on the Syndicate Governing Council?\" The silent scream from every human listening crashed like a wave on me. This was it. Go hard or go home.\n\n\"Mr. Davis that is quite an offer! Very well on behalf of the Syndicate I accept your offer of 7 billion individuals from your world for a place on the Governing Council.\"\n\n\"Great Barlq I knew we could come up with something, a win-win for everyone. Please transmit the information required for council placement, Cellular regeneration and FTL travel immediately.\"\n\n\"Transmitting now Mr. Davis\"\n\nI got a thumbs up and flip off from a very pissed off technician behind a monitor. \n\n\"Thank you Barlq. You may commence your pick up of the 7 billion individuals from this world at your convenience. The species you will be collecting the individuals from are known as \"ants\". You will find the to be quite industrious workers and highly genetically modifiable to suit whatever your requirements.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Davis. We have studied your ants and find them a highly acceptable servant species. We are so glad that we have come to this arrangement. I was afraid for a moment that I would have to explain why I gave Council membership to a species that sold itself into servitude! Imagine the embarrassment!\"\n\n\"Yes, Barlq, how embarrassing indeed.\""
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[removed] | [WP] A chance at a different future | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\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/6f2z88/wp_a_chance_at_a_different_future/%0A%0A)\n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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"1496517772",
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Imagine a game of red light green light but the other guy has a gattling gun. | [WP] After a shooting you find out you're bulletproof, but only when you're not moving. The downside is the only weapon that works for you are katanas. | 7 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Columbine was the start. As the only survivor, I was grilled and questioned. Only when my “handler” broke his hand on my face did we realize something was up.\n\nSubjected to a battery of tests, time ceased to hold any meaning.\nPoked and prodded for years, SCARM (some sort of alphabet soup, clandestine, government agency) discovered the following.\n\nI am immune to all damage, but only when not moving.\nDon’t get me wrong, I can still breathe and blink but any voluntary movement makes me mortal.\n\nAs one of the empowered, I fight crime at Mach 2 as\n\n“Hey cannonball – suit up and let’s go!!”\n\n"
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"1496534978",
"1496542223"
] |
[WP] A finger taps you on the shoulder while you fitfully sleep. You open your eyes and see the Sandman, who hands you a shovel. "Child, we need to go digging for some magical sand." | 38 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Becca harbours a gift I am jealous of. However worried, anxious, stressed out she is, she can effortlessly fell asleep like a brick in a lake. Even after Sarah’s accident, when we were waiting for the doctors to come back, she dozed off and slept in the waiting room. I resented her so much that day! For a moment my distress and my helplessness agglomerated into one solid spear of hate and I would have kill her on the spot if not for the nurse entering the room with the news that my daughter would never wake up.\nNo one could have prevent the accident because no one never understood what has happened to our little girl. One day, during recess, she fall unconscious on the ground and sunk into a deep coma. She stayed at the hospital the first two months. When her state stabilized, we took her home, on a light life support. I collapsed. Quitted my job. To be fair, Becca carried the three of us alone through this ordeal, never complaining, never asking for a rest except at night, when she banned the whole world outside of her eyelids. I think she longs for this blessed oblivion, the only place left where she wasn’t a caretaker.\n\nIt has been three months since Sarah’s slept in her room. Her faint breathing was covered by the purring machine that kept her alive. I spent the first nights by her side, monitoring her movements, rehearsing in my head all the words that I wanted to tell her. My arms missed her, missed her weight, missed her warmth. My ears missed her voice, hell, my whole body seemed riddled with missing parts inhaling darkness into my soul.\n\nWe didn’t exactly have a fight but it felt like it. Becca just glanced at me with discouragment and went to bed. I prefered to sleep in Sarah’s room. I told her a story, discussed this morning’s cartoons then after three or four whiskies, I slumbered away. I don’t remember for how long I was gone but I felt a finger tapping my shoulder and opened my eyes.\n\n\"Hey, man wake up! Wake up, you clam!\"\n\nFor a second I thought Becca decided to join me but the voice belonged to a man, a hasty, nervous man who turned out to stare down (or rather up) at me, from the ceiling. He looked young, in a tailored suit that spelled « salesman ». His blond eyes stared right in mine. They lacked pupils but they were so close that I could see lines in them, like ancient ruins peaking through the desert.\n\n\" Finally! You’re not the fast type, are you? I could lose my job, you know! Not that you care obviously...\"\n\n\" Who are you? What are you doing on my ceiling? \" That was a stupid question, but that was a stupid situation too. He looked up at his bare feet and blinked in bewilderment.\n\n\" Oh, yeah, he said slowly, gravity n’ stuff... \"\n\nI tried to stand but I was stuck from the neck down into grey sand. Panic seized me and I tried to crawl toward Sarah’s bed. The bedroom was packed with sand and I couldn’t see my daughter but I could clearly hear her steady breathing, as loud as the wind. No machine noises between my daughter’s life and me. It calmed me. The strange man sat next to me as I managed to escape from the sand’s grip.\n\n\" Let’s talk business, shall we? I know you’re in a... uneasy situation, Dave. See, your daughter was caught in an unfortunate accident. I... I mean, someone on our side has been a little heavy-handed on the sleeping sand... As you can see for yourself... It got caught in her soul and before you know it, buried her into this coma. ‘Wasn’t supposed to happen, but who never screws up, hey?\"\n\nMy hand clamped his throat, frozing the smile that started to arise on his face.\n\n\" You’re responsible for this?! You hurt my little girl, you fucking asshole!\"\n\nHe tried to speak, gasped for air but I couldn’t let go, not yet. I needed this, I needed for him to reach his last but one air, to desperately expect death before I permit him to live another minute. I finally loosened my grip and he crawled away from me, spitting and cursing.\n\n\" The fuck Dave?! I’m... ack! I’m trying to help here, moron! I could have... I could have let it slide, pretend nothing happened and just go on with my life! But nooooo! I’m too kindhearted, too much of a good sport! If it wasn’t for your wife I...\n\n\" What about my wife?\" I snapped and he transited from outrage to embarassment for a second before opting for a greasy « matter-of-fact » mode.\n\n\" Well, she’s one of our best customer; I reckon she deserves a commercial gesture, is all! A sound sleeper she is, « you can count on Sarah to buy more than her fair share! » I always say to my blokes, « She is a girl you can trust to whisk away heavy loads of sand every night! » Look, our litigation department wants nothing to do with your case, but for Sarah’s sake, I couldn’t let it go. We are unable to retrieve our product ourselves. Not our job, you see, we can only sell it. Only humans are fit for \"returning to sender\" this shit. And here, my jobless friend, is where you come in the picture... \"\n\nAs he was talking, I more or less have classified this encounter as a whacky waking dream. It didn’t make any sense. Nevertheless, even if it occured solely in my mind or because of the booze, I deserved this way out of my helplessness. The salesman grinned and held out a showel, a bag and a uniform.\n\n\" Well Dave, ready to be your daughter’s hero? Welcome to Sandman Inc.!\"",
"“I need to sleep.”\n\nThe eyes glowing at me from within the swirling shrouds brightened slightly. “Yet you do not.”\n\n“What do you want?”\n\n“To help you,” he said, sounding amused. A hand extended out of the personified darkness, beckoning me. “Come.”\n\nI studied him for a moment. There wasn’t much to see, except that despite the near dark in my bedroom, he was a shape made *of* the night. A man of some kind, with a voice that echoed like dream theater. Despite the lack of detail, as my eyes failed to see past the shadows that comprised him, he struck me as confident and honest.\n\n“Good,” he said as I threw back the covers and got out of bed. The moment I took his hand, the bedroom faded, and we were abruptly somewhere else. Looking around, I saw an office forming. One of the cubical farms I knew so well. That I despised. People were moving through the aisles between the ‘sound dampening’ half walls that formed the little pens workers were trapped in while they labored. Others bent over desks, tapping at keyboards and studying monitors.\n\n“Where are we?” I asked.\n\n“What do you see?”\n\n“Work.”\n\n“Look again.”\n\nI did, but the scene was the same. “It’s an office.”\n\n“It’s a trap,” he said, gesturing. “Your eyes are not open. Pay attention, see past the obvious.”\n\n“You’re not making a lot of sense.”\n\n“Here,” he said, pulling on my hand. I was drawn down one of the aisles, to one of the corner cubes. With the divider wall between two of the end cubicles removed to make for a larger little cube office, it was clearly a supervisor’s station. I looked at the woman in the chair. She glanced up as a coworker came into her cube with a question. There was no sound; but I could read their expressions.\n\n“What do you see?”\n\n“It’s still an office,” I said again, letting my annoyance color my tone.\n\nBut I was still looking at the silent conversation before me. The woman, the supervisor, seemed tired as she listened to whatever the visitor’s question was. She shook her head finally, then pressed her lips together firmly when the employee objected and made some further point. Another shake of her head, and she gestured toward a color coded calendar on the half wall of her cube. Reaching out, she tapped a finger on a square, with “Ship Date” penciled in.\n\nThe employee sighed visibly, and she gave him a shrug. They talked for another moment, and his lips finally frowned very slightly. Then he nodded, and turned to leave. His face was furious, twisted with anger the moment his back was to her. She swiveled her chair to her computer again, and her shoulders slumped as she resumed working.\n\n“Why are they here?” the darkness asked me.\n\n“I don’t know. They’ve probably got bills to pay.”\n\n“Finally, a good answer. Only half of one, but a start.”\n\nI frowned at him. The shroud seemed to be studying me, the eyes glowing steadily back at me. “We’ve all got to do things we don’t like.”\n\n“But at what cost?”\n\n“Rent and food, everything, it costs money.”\n\n“It costs, but far more than money,” he said, his tones swelling out across the office. I glanced around instinctively, but no one seemed to be paying the slightest attention to us. Whatever was going on, we weren’t here. Not enough for them to notice anyway.\n\n“Money makes the world go around.”\n\n“People are what matter. People, and their lives. Which they sacrifice, over and over, until nothing remains. Only loss and failure.”\n\n“It’s far too late for this conversation.”\n\n“No,” he said, shaking his head. Or, at least, the silhouette of his head within the swirls of absolute blackness. “Nearly, but not yet. There is time.”\n\n“I mean I’m tired. I have work in the morning.”\n\n“Why?”\n\n“Because I’ve got bills too.”\n\n“And paying bills makes you happy?”\n\n“They’ve got to be paid.”\n\n“And you were so close,” he said, shaking his head again. “Very well. If you insist, I will take you home.”\n\nHe reached for me, but I drew back before he could touch my hand. “Wait.”\n\n“Yes?” His voice had fallen to a whisper. It carried clearly though. And there was such pain that I was finally listening.\n\n“What are you trying to tell me?”\n\n“Are you happy?”\n\n“I suppose.”\n\n“Less than half an answer.”\n\n“Is anyone really happy?”\n\n“Some precious few.”\n\n“Lucky them,” I said sourly.\n\n“A very small handful of them are just lucky. But most of them have chosen to be thus.”\n\n“You’re talking circles again,” I said, frowning. “If happiness was so easy—”\n\n“But it is.”\n\n“How?” I asked before I could stop myself.\n\n“Do you hear the desperation? The eagerness, the longing, in yourself?”\n\n“Everyone wants to be happy.”\n\n“But so few, so very few, choose to be.”\n\nI looked around again. I noticed every face, and for the rest that were facing away their body language, was anything but happy. Some looked professional and composed, but every actual emotion I saw started at resigned and shaded right down to ill-concealed frustration or anger. There had to be at least fifty in view, and not a one looked like they wanted to be there.\n\n“How?” I asked again.\n\n“How to what?”\n\nI faced the darkness again. “To be happy.”\n\n“What is in your heart?”\n\n“What do you mean?”\n\nThe man swirling within the shadows came closer to me. He was taller, but I didn’t feel like he was looming over me as he approached. Instead, it felt … safe. Reassuring. I stared up at his glowing eyes as he studied me. “This office is yours. Not the yours of now, but the yours of what will be. Do you see happiness here?”\n\n“No,” I said, feeling my stomach knotting up. My knees were starting to wobble.\n\n“No,” he said calmly. “What does that make you think?”\n\nI started to cry. “Like there’s no point.” He caught me as I started to collapse, as the tears wracked my body and shattered my balance. His hands were cool and soft, reassuring. As he steadied me, I blinked tears away so I could see.\n\n“There is always time to change,” he whispered. “The world screams and torments, threatens and pleads. Demands conformity and denies change. But the decision is yours. What will you be tomorrow?”\n\nI straightened and wiped at my face. His hands left me, but hovered. Like he expected me to fall again. “Tired,” I said. “I’ve got to be up by five if I’m going to make it in on time.”\n\n“Tired, yes. But tomorrow, if you listen to the world, you will be this,” he said, and his eyes swept around the office. “You will be as you are. The this of now, the this of tomorrow, the this of always. But if you follow your heart, what will you be?”\n\n“Broke.”\n\n“Perhaps. But perhaps happy as well?”\n\n“What, I’ve got to quit my job to be happy?”\n\n“The world is far bigger than it would like any of us to believe. There is vast possibility, nearly endless. Much beyond the narrow paths it shepherds its obedient sheep along. Happiness is there, but it lays off the lit walk. Out in the darkness. Waiting.”\n\n“Waiting?”\n\n“For you,” he said. “For everyone who dares to reach for it. Tomorrow, if you throw another day away, will you be happy?”\n\n“No.”\n\n“And the next, and the next after that? What about the month after this one? The year following that? Time goes by, and with every moment, more of it slips away. Lost forever. Your life is a dream without direction, and it is the reason you hurt.”\n\n“Yes,” I said, my voice thickening with sobs again. “I have dreams.”\n\n“Then follow them,” he said, and closed his hands around my shoulders. Pulling on me. I hugged the darkness, then found myself blinking up at my bedroom ceiling. Sitting up quickly, I looked around. Light was washing through the curtains on my windows. The darkness was gone.\n\nI jumped as my alarm clock went off. Reflexively I slapped at the snooze button to silence it. Then I turned and looked at it to feel for the switch to turn it off. Rising, I was in the bathroom and reaching to turn the shower on before I realized what I was doing. I hesitated, then left the bathroom. My laptop was on the table in the living room.\n\nIt turned on when I opened the lid. My fingers stroked across the touchpad, and danced across the keyboard. Then hesitated over the last button. I closed my eyes, then opened them and clicked send.\n\n* * * * *\n\n“There’s still time,” my mother said as I went past her with the last box. “Your father can make some calls. Get you rehired. Somewhere.”\n\n“I don’t want to be rehired,” I said as I set the box in the trunk of the car with the others and closed the lid.\n\n“But—”\n\n“Are you happy mom?” I asked, straightening and facing her.\n\n“No, I’m sick with worry for you.”\n\n“Don’t be,” I said, reaching out and putting my hands on her shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”\n\n“You’re throwing away a good career to go float around on a boat,” she said desperately. “What do you know about sailing?”\n\n“I know it’s what I’ve always wanted to do,” I said with a smile.\n\n* * * * *\n\nI collect all my flash fic [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/DavesWorld/). If you liked this, the others might be interesting too. Enjoy!"
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[removed] | [WP] Upon arrival to his new colony on Mars, Elon Musk reveals to the Authorities of Earth that he is the worlds most wanted fugitive, Satoshi Nakamoto (the anonymous & elusive inventor of Bitcoin). | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\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/6f8jbk/wp_upon_arrival_to_his_new_colony_on_mars_elon/%0A%0A)\n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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"1496597142",
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[removed] | [WP] Write a strange situation from a perspective that makes it seem normal until the end. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nPreviously written content is not allowed. Prompts that are likely to generate such responses are also not allowed. We want to inspire new writing. Go 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=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6fad8q/wp_write_a_strange_situation_from_a_perspective/%0A%0A)\n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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[wp]You burn a cigarette on your arm to show how macho you are, when suddenly someone in the bar one ups you by committing seppukku. | 81 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"As I grit my teeth and slowly spin, showing the whole bar my feat, I let my tongue slip out of my mouth as I nod saying \"Uhuh, heh heh, that's right fuckers!\" Then SLAM! I hear a strong hand hit a table off to the back corner of the bar. Dropping my cigarette and following the eyes of everyone present, I see the shaking heads of 2 Asian men seated at the table. \"The fuck? How did they get swords in here?\" I ask myself quietly. \n\nThey stand in unison, almost like mirror images of each other, one only slightly taller than the other, both broad and muscular. The shorter one moves slowly, never breaking eye contact with me. The taller one, faster, he opens a bag and produces 2 pieces of stark white cloth. One large, one small. The large one, he unfolds and places on the floor without a word, and the shorter guy kneels down on it. The shorter guy rips open his shirt with one clean motion and pulls out some sort of cool looking asian knife from his belt above the sword.\n\nAt this point, most of the bar is fixated on them, as I am. It's hard to look away from the sudden and crazy display. ~ What the hell are they doing? ~ I think to myself.\n\nThe taller guy hands the smaller cloth to the shorter guy and he takes it and wraps it around the middle of the knife blade, making some weird gestures. The taller guy pulls out his sword and stands with it upright, next to his head, standing ready for something. He stares intently down at the head of the guy kneeling down. The kneeling guy - still looking directly into my eyes - points the knife to the left of his extremely sculpted abs. I'm starting to regret my show of manliness as he pulls the knife forward. The next actions happen in an instant that is frozen in my unmanly memory for all time. \n\nThe shorter guy's muscles all tense at once, his teeth grit at the impending pain, his eyes burning a hole into my soul. He brings the knife like lightning back into his lower abdomen, stabbing into his skin and organs. He rips the knife to the right, cleanly slicing through all of the skin and intestines along the way. His muscles seem to tense even further as he resists the pain and refuses to make a sound and just as it seems he's about to relent and scream his life out as his blood pours forth, his companion brings his own sword down hard and fast. He slices through the neck and spine of the man on the floor, the head staying in place for a few seconds, not realizing yet that it had disconnected. Then, still boring holes into my eyes with his own, the head of the guy on the floor falls forward, and blood spurts up, out of his neck. The taller guy looks at me and gives a smug \"hmmpf,\" and a nod before gathering up his friend.\n\nSo anyway, yeah... I that's the story of why I stopped going to bars and why I joined this group! I am now Princess Sparklepants, of the Glitterbutt chapter of Fairy people, and I am the least manly person I know.",
"I can't feel pain. Like, I actually can't. I noticed it when I was 7 years old, and accidentally fell, breaking my wrist. At first, I didn't notice, even though my hand was actually twisted, almost 180 degrees, and all I worried about was, oh no, I'll get in trouble, I broke this lamp! It was later, in the hospital, when I was getting a cast put on did I realize that I should probably be in serious pain.\n\nAt least now, as a (semi) responsible adult, I can do stupid bar-tricks. I huff out a long trail of smoke, and take the last inch or so of the cheap cigarette, and push it into my arm. It smells horrible, burning hair and skin, and then I drop the burned-out stub on the floor. The few random guys seated next to me look on with an amount of respect. Yeah, cool trick.\n\nThen, and I kid you not, a samurai taps me on the shoulder. He's wearing light armor, and carries two swords, a long one, and a short one, barely more than a knife.\n\n\"Um... Can I help you? Sir?\" I was not expecting this. I just wanted to get drunk, maybe get laid, forget my day-job.\n\n\"あなたは私の家族の義務を果たし、私の名誉を回復するのを助けなければなりません.\" He bellows at me, in a harsh tone, staring at me with dark eyes.\n\n\"I didn't understand a word you have said. What do you, oh god, what are you about to do with that sword there?\" I get off my stool, and begin backing up.\n\nThe samurai withdraws the long sword, it's handle wrapped in red ribbon, the guard-thing engraved with dragons, the blade curved, with a single edge. A katana, yes, that's what it's called. \"この剣を持って頭を切ってください。 1回のストロークでそれを行い、私の尊厳を保持してください.\"\n\n\"Don't hurt me, for fucks... oh.\" He turns the sword, presenting me with the handle. I reach and grasp it. Under the red ribbon, decoratively wrapped around the handle, it's rough, almost like sand paper underneath. It's surprisingly light, and I stare at the blade. Polished to a mirror shine, it almost sings in the air as I wave it back and forth, glinting in the light. Everyone in the bar is looking at us now.\n\nHe withdraws the short-sword, a mirror image of the sword I held, simply shorter. \"Whoa, whoa, are we gonna fight? I'll kick your... What are you doing, sir?\"\n\nHe's dropped to his knees, and unties his shirt, revealing a scarred, muscular chest. \"この瞬間が英雄と戦士の名誉ある死を告げる5月。 神々が私に恵まれますように。\"\n\nHe stabs the short sword into his gut, dragging the blade across his belly. He grits his teeth as blood and viscera spills onto the floor, and he begins to drag the blade back across, to the starting point. Half-way back, he lets go. His entrails trail out of his body, and he slumps forwards, looking at me as I stare back in horror.\n\n\"お願いします。 あなたは私を失った。\" He slumps forwards onto the floor, face down, dead.\n\nI walk out of the bar, eyes wide. What the fuck did I just see... Was that to one-up my trick? It can't have been, that would be nuts. Who would kill themselves to prove they were manlier than me? I'm a fucking wimp!\n\nAt least I got a cool sword out of the deal. I know just the place for this little guy, right above my bed."
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[WP] "In the end they all leave, none of them ever have the stomach to do what needs to be done". | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I sat in my suffering, bored of being used to heal others and then tossed aside. They all leave anyways! None of them actually care enough to help me, only enough so that I help them. Once they're fixed they leave me to rot in my own suffering, waiting for another person to help.\n\nWaiting for another person to give a piece of myself to.",
"Her eyes flashed like twin candles, flickering in the torchlight.\n \n\"You are Reinald, son of Reimund, the King of Astria, and the one they call 'God Slayer.'\"\n \n\"Aye, that's me.\"\n \nThe king wore glittering golden armor, and an ornate sword dangled from his hip. His silk cloak bore the royal sigil—a purple dragon with a falchion between its jaws. A golden crown studded with precious gems rested comfortably on his head. The guards behind him were similarly adorned, and together they made quite the spectacle.\n \n\"You come seeking immortality, yes?\"\n \nReinald smiled, his chin held high.\n \n\"What would you offer in exchange?\"\n \nThe king gestured to his guards, and one of them approached her carrying a small bronze statue.\n \n\"The false god of the Ephonites, Uzotl.\"\n \n\"What use would I have for this?\" Her pale face betrayed no emotion.\n \nSurprised, Reinald waved the guard back.\n \n\"Immortality comes with a heavy price. Great sacrifice will be necessary.\"\n \nHe thought for a moment, stroking his beard. \"The queen is pregnant.\"\n \n\"You offer your firstborn child?\" Her gaze was piercing.\n \n\"Well, I can always make another,\" Reinald said with a nervous chuckle. \"Is it enough?\"\n \nShe regarded him silently.\n \nThe king furrowed his brow. \"If it's not enough, I—\"\n \n\"Remove your crown,\" she interrupted.\n \nHe hesitated, glancing back at his guards. Slowly, he lifted the symbol of authority from his dark curls and placed it at her feet.\n \n\"How is it that you can love this metal more than your own child?\"\n \nReinald glared at her, defiant.\n \n\"If you truly wish to be immortal, renounce your claim to the throne. Give the crown to your brother.\"\n \nThe room was filled with the king's thunderous laughter. \"You cannot be serious.\"\n \nSilence.\n \nOne of the guards shifted uneasily. Reinald found himself reaching for his sword.\n \n\"You would raise your weapon against me?\" Her tone froze him in place.\n \nThe guards exchanged anxious glances, suddenly very warm in their golden armor.\n \n\"Leave this place.\"\n \nShe watched with an unchanging expression as King Reinald retrieved his crown and stormed out, his guards at his heels.\n \n\"Will he do it, mother?\" A boy materialized beside her.\n \n\"No. They never have the stomach to do what must be done.\" She let out something like a sigh. \"One day the God Slayer's kingdom will return to dust. What use will his crown be then? Man is so easily consumed by his power and his wealth that he becomes blind to the most important thing in this fleeting world.\"\n \n\"And what is the most important thing?\" The child looked up at her.\n \nShe smiled wistfully and placed a slender hand on his head. \"You will understand someday.\""
] | [
1,
2,
3
] | [
"1496632518",
"1496632934",
"1496767850"
] | |
[WP] Tell me about living in a world where being happy or doing enjoyable things shortens your lifespan while the opposite lengthens it. | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I used to live in a world,\n\nWhere no earthquakes quaked and no tornadoes twirled.\n\n\nDeath was never an accident.\n\nOne made all the choices and chose his own descent.\n\n\nThey said, \"the more you laugh, \n\nthe lesser you'll live.\n\nGive or take, just don't be happy when you give.\"\n\n\nEveryone wanted to live a long life \n\nGrief and silence was the world's strife.\n\n\nI knew a man forelorn,\n\nEvery 100 years someone alike was born.\n\n\nHe laughed at things, they looked at him with their lips pursed.\n\n\"You'll live half a life\", they had always cursed.\n\n\nNever the one to be dismissive.\n\nHe used to say, \"To be happy is to live.\"\n\n "
] | [
1,
4
] | [
"1496639131",
"1496644711"
] | |
[WP] "That Old Gypsy Woman was right..." | 4 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Lemme ask Siri,\" he said from the driver's seat. \"Hey Siri, where's the best place for wings?\"\n\n\"Nah,\" I interrupted. \"Siri's always wrong. Lemme show you someone better.\"\n\nI pulled out my new phone. It's made by this startup called Logicua.\n\nRight away, she started talking.\n\n*\"You will come to a fork in the road, my dears,\"* the old robotic woman said, *\"and like the lone wolf who separates from the rest of the pack, you will take the lonesome road... heed my warning, dears: it is a complicated turn, so you will need to get into the left-only lane... then, once past, you will go as straight as the ox for a thousand plus one paces... the eatery, named Duff's, will be right past the dry cleaners... but beware, my dears... any man who eats the meat from chicken bones in a prime number will surely be cursed and sickened with--\"*\n\nI turned her off. \"Whaddya think?\" I asked.\n\n\"Sure,\" he said. \"Cool. An old gypsy sidekick. Let's do it. Duff's it is.\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Only one question for you, though,\" he added. \"Is this old robot lady listening, like... all the time?\"\n\n///\n \n*Scene #19 of r/100scenes*"
] | [
1,
4
] | [
"1496670528",
"1496676440"
] | |
[WP] In the near future, FTL travel methods have been discovered. While flying through space, you hit an invisible barrier, and the cosmos begins to crack~ | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"The cracking shook my blood, vibrating every particle in my body, as if I was slowly splitting apart. I gaze through the glass of my cockpit, squinting through the haze of debris and light. It seems as if I’ve hit the barrier of space, a place where light hasn’t traveled yet. I look around, engulfed by the void, with only the headlights of my spacecraft shining, when my eyes lock onto a strip of utter emptiness. I peer into its depths, appearing as if it goes on indefinitely. It’s as if it is a hole in the wall of space.\n\nI climb out of my cockpit, the airlocks hissing with terror of the undiscovered. I float towards the hole, steadying my hands, attempting to comfort myself in a place which light hasn’t conquered. My hand brushes against the edge of the hole, its jaggedness oddly flexible to my touch. I seem to mold the edge of it at my will, as if it was a slab of gelatin; yet the hole still retains its durability and sharpness, like a boulder. I take my other hand and stick it through. I await a difference, but there seems to be none. I slowly inch my head into the hole, trying to catch a glimpse of what is on the other side. I separate the sides, squeezing my whole body through this crack in space, stepping into a void that is devoid of itself.\n\nI turn my head, slowly looking side to side, not seeing anything in the slightest. I turn around, trying to find the crack which I floated through earlier, but it seems to have disappeared. I attempt to see my new surroundings, but all that there is, is nothing at all. It has a paradoxical effect, being a void without even emptiness to its name. Its darkness puts a black hole to shame, not just absorbing light, but destroying it all together. I think that I’m stuck for eternity, that I will live out my days floating in this abyss, when a glimmer catches my eye. However, it is not light that has come to save me, but a man. A man chiseled to perfect, each muscle sculpted flawlessly, the manifestation of perfection. He is not made of skin, but of something resembling plasma, himself being the light source to this place. He slowly walks up to me, his posture demanding respect, and his steps wielding power. His feet walk on the void itself, seemingly contorting the void to his will. As he approaches, he gets bigger and bigger, towering over skyscrapers, mountains, and even mythical gods, dominating the area which he occupies. \nHe manifests a chalice out of sheer nothingness once he reaches me, bending down as an adult would to a kid. He hands me the chalice, made of an ethereal metal and plated with crystal of materialized void. He looks me in the eye, and with a thundering boom he speaks “Welcome to the Outside. Care for a sip of immortality?”. \n"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1496687990",
"1496716041"
] | |
[WP] The universe has decided to simplify all problems: it now neglects friction. | 11 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"God returns to Universe Alpha. He looks down upon the Universe and says, \"Universe Alpha, how are you?\"\n\nUniverse Alpha turns to God. \"Oh, nothing. I decided to help students on Earth.\"\n\nGod chuckled. \"And how'd you do that?\"\n\n\"Oh, it was easy\" Universe Alpha said, \"I just removed friction!\"\n\nGod's smile quickly faded. \"I'm sorry, you did *what*?\" God quickly looked inside the Universe. Everything was chaos.\n\n\"Well fuck\" He said, so that every Universe could hear, \"Now everything's dead.\"\n\n> \n\nMoral of the story?\n\nDon't fuck with friction."
] | [
1,
11
] | [
"1496728272",
"1496732116"
] | |
[WP] A story which starts as a generic fantasy, but at the end reveals that it's actually set in the distant future | 8 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"The elf sat nimbly in the thin branches of the rowan tree, as if he were weightless, aloof.\n\n\"Told you!\" whispered John.\n\n\"WHAT'S THAT, BOY!\" the ship-captain roared.\n\nHe had us by the ears where he had dragged us out from under the pine-board decking of the small galley-boat.\n\n\"We're sorry!\" I said. \"We're sorry!\"\n\n\"WHAT USE IS THAT!\"\n\nThe ship-captain threw us backwards, and down upon the beach we fell, clutching our aching ears, while the elf laughed at us and slipped backwards off the rowan tree.\n\n\"Leave them,\" said a gentle voice.\n\nWe looked up behind us, onto the narrow galley-boat in which we had crossed the Emerald Strait, but no one was there. The small crew had already debarked. There were only a few crates of supplies and several lion skins for trading - except one of the lion skins rose to its feet.\n\nAnd there in front of us, coming down from the boat, was an old man with long hair and beard as white as lightning. He wore the lion skin over his ancient firm shoulders. He stooped with a staff of unknown wood that was blooming living flowers. He looked us over, and his eyes glittered.\n\n\"We'll have to make use of you,\" he chuckled. \"Try not to die too quickly.\"\n\n\"*Die?*\" I asked.\n\nAt that moment, the elf appeared beside the galley-boat - he was holding out a torch, and the boat suddenly caught fire, blazing up behind the old man as he stepped off toward us.\n\n\"Hey!\" shouted John. \"Hey! The boat!\"\n\nHe made to run for the water - like he was going to splash out that huge fire already - but the old man lowered his staff, and John flew backwards.\n\n\"Wizard!\" I cried. \"Run for it, John!\"\n\nWe tore off up the beach into the oak-forest, but of course we didn't know where we were going.\n\n\"I just wanted to see the elves!\" cried John while we ran. \"How are we going to get back!\"\n\n*How are we going to get back!* someone echoed.\n\n*Flowers are showing out back!* someone echoed.\n\n*Flowers and dozens of snacks!* someone echoed.\n\n*Stowaways up on the rack!* someone echoed.\n\nThere was a burst of laughter from the trees, and John and I pulled up short in a circle of elves. They were tall and fair, and their eyes were full of light like water under the sun on a clear day. They wore elegant gray cloaks with hoods that fell back from their flowing hair.\n\n\"We're sorry, boys,\" said one of them. \"You must go no farther.\"\n\nHe sprang backwards as lightly as a bird and landed in the thin branches of another rowan tree. He crouched on the stems and leaves, and he swayed with the wind while it rustled under his feet.\n\n\"I told you they were weightless!\" whispered John. \"What's that?\"\n\nAt last, I looked beyond the elves - at the strange silver creature in front of which they had stopped us. It was enormous and unmoving. It gleamed like the metal of a sword or an axe, except it was shaped like something that belonged in the sky. And, for the way the vines grew over its wings, it must have been dead for ages, but it wasn't rotting at all.\n\n\"What is it?\" I asked the elves.\n\n\"It's a flying machine,\" said a gentle voice over my shoulder.\n\nJohn and I turned around, and the wizard was behind us with his glittering eyes fastened on the great silver creature that the elves were guarding. And all around the wizard the ship's crew were throwing off their boat-clothes - they stood before us now in mail and armor, a dozen warriors, tall and grim with long-swords at their shoulders. The ship-captain looked like a ragged but unmistakeable king.\n\n\"The world is much older than boys like you can guess,\" said the wizard sadly. \"And at one time the sky was full of these flying machines. There were hundreds of them. Thousands. You could circle the globe in a day and drink coffee while you were doing it. But then came the Darkness and our knowledge failed. Everything stopped working. It was a time of terror and confusion and great slaughter, until at last the Darkness grew weary and rested beyond the Wild Continent.\"\n\nJohn stepped backwards and twisted his hands in his tunic.\n\n\"That's just - \" he stammered, \"just legends. That's just legends!\"\n\nJohn looked wildly at me as if I knew any better, but the wizard held forward his staff and John was lifted into the air. John's body floated forward until he was right in front of the old wizard, who looked grimly into John's eyes.\n\n\"What if I said that the legends were true?\" the wizard asked John. \"And that the Darkness is waking up again?\"\n\n\"I'd say I want to go home!\" bawled John.\n\n\"And so do I,\" said the wizard.\n\n*And so do I*, echoed many elvish voices.\n\n*And so do I*, echoed many of the warriors.\n\nBut I didn't say anything.\n\nThe wizard set John down gently on his feet again, and turned him to face the south, in which direction the wizard extended his staff - in front of him, a way seemed to open between the oak-forest and the rowan trees. It was a long rugged highway down into the heart of the Wild Continent.\n\n\"We all want to go home, John,\" said the wizard. \"And maybe we will. Maybe we will. But first we are called upon to do something else, to go meet the Darkness, and to stop it.\"\n\n\"To stop it?\" asked John.\n\nBut the wizard only strode forward grimly, with the warriors closing ranks on either side of him. And the many elves came following, offering us golden apples, and sweeping us along in the mad march down into the Wild Continent, down to meet the Darkness. It was the march that the legends called - if I remembered them as well as John - the Last Doomed Attempt.\n"
] | [
1,
5
] | [
"1496784792",
"1496792499"
] | |
[WP] You've come across a genie who only grants wishes that matter. You're having trouble getting anything out of the genie. | 7 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Nope.\"\n\n\"Seriously? How can 'world peace' not matter?\"\n\n\"Because it overrides our free will. I cannot grant a wish that controls people.\"\n\n\"So you can't make my ex fall back in love with me?\"\n\n\"Nope.\"\n\n\"Dammit.\" The genie smirked at me, checking his imaginary watch. We'd been at it for about 40 minutes and I was out of ideas. He was a slippery little devil, this one. I don't know what I expected from what looked like just an old oil can. \n\n\"Anything else you'd like to try?\" \n\n\"Something that doesn't harm anyone, no stealing, no changing the past, and no controlling people's free will...\"\n\n\"That's right.\" I thought hard. \"That's right, think hard, Julie.\" I glared at him. Such a jerk. But I guess if I had to deal with millennia of dumb requests I'd be a little snarky too. I had one more idea, and if it was going to work I had to be specific.\n\n\"I want a notebook filled with the names of people who will be important or useful in my life, a paragraph after each of their names detailing how they will be important, and a line to prompt me as to how I should interact with them, and I want a second notebook with the same but with people *I'm* supposed to help along the way. And I want a list of all the winning lottery numbers for the next 5 years so I can share with my friends and family.\"\n\n\"Crap. Your wish is granted.\""
] | [
1,
6
] | [
"1496785648",
"1496791713"
] | |
[WP] Your mail order mermaid just arrived. You, thinking it was a joke, are totally unprepared. And you owe somebody $8000. | 15 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I pressed my face against the door, inspecting the knock through the peephole. DHS? I didn’t remember ordering anything recently. Probably more basketball jerseys off of chinese amazon again. I cursed my drunken online shopping as I swung the door open. \n \nThe delivery man was a sight and a half. Sweat stains sagged from his collar and underneath his arms. Stubble ran from the length of his neck to his nostrils and his eyes were clusters of red tendrils. He leaned on the wooden crate and held out a handheld scanner. \n \n“Hi. Sign here, please.” He said between ragged breaths. \n \n“What is this thing?” I said, looking past the scanner to the crate’s mandarin characters. \n \nThe delivery man pushed the scanner closer until its plastic kissed my sternum. “Dunno. Does it look like I fucking speak chinese?” \n \nI took the scanner and scribbled. “I don’t know, I would never assume--”\n \n“Thanks,” he said, taking the scanner and clipping it to his belt. He turned and headed for the exit, dragging his dolly in tow. \n \nI stepped out after him.“Hey, can you at least help me get this thing into my apartment?” \n \n“Fuck no. It’s your problem now.” His greasy chuckle echoed as he turned the corner. \n \nI shrugged and examined the crate. It looked like the crate my college mattress came in, except twice as tall. Stuck to the far end was an envelope addressed to me. I attacked the surplus of tape with my keys, taking care not to rip the envelope. \n \n*Dear Mr. Conrad, \n \nWe hope that you find this specimen to your liking. You’ll find these creatures to be great companions and mates. An associate from Merijoy company will be by shortly after you receive this specimen to exact the payment due of USD8000.\n \nWe hope that you find great joy in your purchase and wish you good fortune. Thank you for doing business with Merijoy Inc. \n\nSincerely, \n\nMr. Han. CEO of Merijoy Inc.* \n \nEight thousand dollars, I thought, rubbing my brow. Are you fucking kidding me? I’ll never drink again. What the fuck is in this box anyway? Companions and mates? Creatures? I’m not even allowed to own a cat. What’s in the box? \n \nI kicked the edge of the crate. The thud was returned in kind. And I jumped.\n \nA hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. I jumped again. \n \n“Jesus, what the fuck man? You can’t be going around grabbing people like that.” I yelled at the short, suited man responsible for my fright. \n \n“Mr. Conrad, I’m from the Merijoy corporation. I’m sorry to scare you, but I’m here to exact payment.” \n \nI began to sweat. I hardly had money for groceries, let alone an extra eight grand to give to this guy and whatever his company was pushing. “What’s in the box, Mr….”\n \n“Mr. White.” \n \nI cocked an eyebrow. The ambiguous Hollywood gangster name didn’t help my anxiety. “What’s in the box, Mr. White?”\n \n“Your mermaid, of course” \n \n“My...mermaid?” \n \nHe nodded. “Yes. Your mermaid.” \n \nI laughed in his face. “There’s no such thing as mermaids Mr. White. How much of a Rube do you think I am? That’s, if I had to venture a guess, a big ol’ fish. Or a lizard. Not a mythical animal-human hybrid.”\n \nHe offered a reserved chuckle. “Well, Mr. Conrad, you bought a mermaid and we delivered a mermaid.” \n \nI laughed again and went for the crate’s latch. Quickly, Mr. White stepped between the crate and I. \n \n“The payment first, Mr. Conrad.” \n \n“I, er, don’t have eight grand.” \n \nMr. White’s cheerful demeanor dropped. He pulled his sleeve to his mouth and whispered. At the far end of the hallway, the sweaty DHS man came, dolly in tow. \n \n“Sorry, Mr. Conrad. No money: no mermaid.” Mr. White said. \n \nI stepped back and watched the two gentlemen, one white collar, one blue, handily load the crate leave. After they turned the corner I stepped back into my apartment. \n \nMy roommate peered over his shoulder from the couch. “What was that?” \n \n“Nothing,” I said, locking the door. “Just a mermaid.”\n",
"\"Ugh...\" I groaned, clambering out of the makeshift sofa bed. The night before was a blur, a hazy recollection of drunken binge watching videos on youtube, and something else. I booted up my computer, and opened up google, and searched through my history. Music videos from the 80s, facebook, reddit, the usual for a friday booze filled night. Except for a single website. \n\n*MailOrderMerfolk.com*\n\nI clicked the link, and found myself on a shady looking website. I started to recall my drunken endeavours from last night, as I re-read the description:\n\n*Are you lonely? Do you wish for companionship? Do you want to help further the research of biomarine life? Then get yourself a merfolk! This fish person will be the perfect way to liven up your home!*\n\nThe drunkened messaging, with friends daring me to do, saying they would chip in if it actually happened. I scrolled down, seeing I had bought the 'deluxe' package, complete with enclosure for the mermaid. Which totalled to £8000. \n\n*Thank you for your purchase! Your mermaid will be delivered by tomorrow. Payment is not needed upfront. We allow up to a month before we expect at least part of the payment.*\n\nThe doorbell rang. I got up, and a deliveryman, quite staunch and wearing a fearsome beard, looked back at me. A large truck was behind him. It seems it wasn't a hoax. \"One mermaid, the deluxe set, right?\" He asked. I merely nodded. \"Good. Got the right house. Where do you want us to set up the mermaid enclosure?\" \"Er, in my garden. Let me open the door for you.\" I grabbed my keys, and opened up the gate leading to my quaint garden. \"Perfect. We'll start right now. Oh, and before I forget, you'll need to keep the mermaid inside your house while we set up its enclosure. Is that Ok?\" \"Yeah, yeah. It's fine\" I mumbled. \n\nAs I went back inside, I saw the mermaid lying on the sofa. \"Oh, hello!\" She said with a smile, which came off quite calm. \"So you felt like a little bit of mermaid in your life?\" She continued, with a coy wink. I tried to tell her otherwise. \"err, there was a bit of a mixup. I was incredibly drunk last night, and I went a bit crazy, and now..\" I trailed off, the mermaid beckoning me closer. \"I can tell you're lonely.\" I felt compelled to sit down next to her. She flipped over, herself now on my lap. She started to hug me, and started to sing. \"You should be happy. You've got little 'ol me to keep you from going insane.\" The singing was hypnotic, and I felt myself lulled into a quiet comatose state...\n\nI snapped out of the trance I was in finally, after the deliveryman from before was in front of me, trying to get my attention. \"We've finished. My boys will get her to the enclosure.\" Two burly men came in on que, picking up the mermaid, taking her outside. He turned to me, handing me a couple of pamphlets. \"This should help you take of little miss Aquilia over there.\" I took them slowly. \"I feel like I should I say that I was quite drunk last night when I ordered this. \" He just laughed. \"I think you need this. You can't back out now anyway. Have fun!\" With that, he left, leaving me to the lake I had sank down into, with nothing but a mermaid to try to guide me through it.\n\n--\nAmazing Prompt! I decided to spend way too much time on this. :3",
" I probably shouldn't have ordered from that site... now I'm kinda screwed. I didn't think the website was real and I didn't even have to put in an address or credit card, I didn't even need to give a name. It was a magical creature website and you'd get to own one, there were vampires, werewolves, anything really. I pushed order on a mermaid and the site said the order was placed, I was just trying to see something but it apparently didn't have an \"are you sure\" thing before buying. I thought it was fine because I didn't provide any information. \n\n About a week later I was at home when I heard a knock at my door, when I looked through the peep hole I saw a guy with a really big box behind him. I opened the door and he asked where to put the mermaid and said that he was expecting his payment. I told him I didn't mean to order anything and he said I'd have to pay somehow. I was confused but he just said some kind of spell and I passed out.\n\n When I woke up I was underwater, but I didn't feel like I was drowning. I looked around to see my hair was long and black, it was floating in the water and when I went to touch it I noticed my hand had more webbing between the fingers and was smaller. My forearm had some kind of short fin thing on the side like Batman or something. I looked down and tried to scream, I didn't hear much and there were no bubbles that'd be there if I was holding my breath.\n\n What I saw when I looked down was... completely insane. I had an hourglass figure with a mostly blue fish tail and my chest... had some type of seaweed looking stuff wrapped around it. I was a guy that wasn't too fit before and now I was a mermaid... when I moved my hand around I found out I was in glass. There was a bit of air above the water so I stuck my head above, while my neck was above the water I had the feeling of not being able to breathe. When I felt my neck I felt rows of slits and I assumed they were gills, I knew I couldn't breathe air at that moment. \n\n After a while of what felt like the water moving I was put upside down and fell into a big tank. It was an aquarium style one with rocks on the bottom and some rock shapes I thought I could probably could swim through. On the other side of the glass was some guy in a suit talking to the guy that was at my door, there was a mirror in the tank and when I looked in it I stared for a second. I looked like Alexandra Daddario, I was so confused for a second but I assumed the guy made me into a mermaid or switched my mind into the mermaids body. \n\n I spent the next hour hitting the glass then exploring the tank. When I got hungry he threw a fish in the tank, I held it and shook my head at the guy... it wasn't cooked or anything. After a few hours I got so hungry that I took a bite of the fish... it was pretty good so I ate the rest. There was a clam shaped thing that I decided to lay down on the best I could and sleep. \n\n I spent the month in there and eventually got the guy to get me my old phone in a waterproof case with it set up not to send messages or anything, I had to hand it to his worker or whatever to charge it whenever it got low. It was hard to ask for stuff cause the voice I had now definitely wasn't meant for talking. I could make noises and stuff but the voice just sounded weird... it made sense though. My boredom was kinda fixed since I could listen to music with headphones and watch videos but I couldn't ask for help... even if I could nobody would believe me. \n\n It's been two months and I've had to go through making a bunch of eggs... it happens every few weeks. This all pretty much sucks... though everything is simpler, I see another empty display thing across the room they're putting a forest like area in now. I'm guessing it's a werewolf or something but I don't really know. "
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[deleted] | [WP] Out of nowhere and without any pre warnings, Humans lost their sense of sight. Everything has changed. New machines, New ways of communication.. Humanity had to adapt. You however, Even after this radical change, You feel like your life hasnt changed that much. | 11 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Good morning! It is 7:00 am! Good morning! It is 7:00 am!\"\n\nI reached over and, after a few tries, found and hit the off button on the alarm, sitting up in bed. \n\nI could hear Max panting next to my bed. I reached out and patted his head, sleepily assuring him he was, in fact, a good boy. Before the Darkness came, he would have had to wear a \"Service Dog\" vest. Now? Well, it's not like anyone could see if he was anyway.\n\nSo many people insisted I get one of the new proximity collars, and I hated to admit it, but it helped. If anything got close to you in eight directions, it gave you a little buzz in the direction of the object, and took care of much of Max's around the house work, which let him relax more during that time. Not that he did. He was a great dog. . \n\nAt this point, I had the layout of my room completely memorized, so the slight warning it gave me for the dresser and the drawer weren't needed, but still welcome. Stepping into the shower, I said \"Normal temperature, high pressure.\"\n\nIt turned on in a stream. No more reaching for the handles, trying to remember exactly where they had been. Voice recognition tech had been the first thing we'd improved, after the Darkness. Pretty much everything could be controlled by speaking to it, which was nice.\n\nWhile I dried off, I heard Max padding downstairs. He'd take care of his own breakfast needs and let himself out now that I was up. \n\nI told the radio on with another voice command as I headed to the kitchen. Labels were all in braille now, which made finding my food as easy as possible. Cereal and milk, nothing fancy.\n\nThat done, I asked Max to bring me his leash and clipped it to his collar. I'd been told he was a golden retriever, though I had no idea if he actually was that color. He was getting old, twelve years now. Still, I loved him - my constant companion.\n\nI got in my car. That was a nice change. I just had to say \"Work,\" and it took off, letting me recline and go over a stack of papers. Braille, of course, with a list of new students. \n\nClassrooms hadn't changed as much as one might think. I could sit now, which was nice. No need to walk in front of the class to maintain engagement. \"Greetings everyone. Today we'll be talking about using a proximity collar and a service dog together, which I recommend everyone do.\" Max was great for the demonstration, showing the different kind of barks used by service dogs and what they meant, and quieting down the moment a question was asked. \n\nWe went over the strengths and weaknesses of both. People like me were highly sought after - experts in helping people learn how to cope with their blindness. Although it had been half a decade, they were still finding people who had been hiding in fear, or never really learned to cope. Every year the classes got smaller, which was a blessing, but the students were more an more traumatized, which was a shame. Still, I'd been a teacher before the Darkness, so it'd had been an easy thing to adapt to. \n\nAt the end of the day - only five classes this semester - I headed home. At the rate it was going, I'd be out of a job in another few years. I was pretty okay with that. I was getting near retirement anyway, and I'd made a killing teaching this once we'd gotten things under control.\n\nIt had been six months of absolute chaos. There hadn't been many blind people prior to the Darkness - sure, 39 million the population of many European countries, but they'd been spread out across the globe and individual services for them had been limited. After the Darkness, everyone had been overwhelmed. \n\nI remembered most the crying. All hours of the day, people crying out for loved ones, for pets, for friends, for help. I'd spent week after week working with emergency services to just help get people to the point where they could take care of themselves. Classes had been set up. Radio had come back in a major way, important information being relayed. It had been near impossible to develop new technologies at first, but enough researchers were skilled enough to figure out the basics - gloves that gave you a scan of what you held, the older, less accurate proximity collars. A mass training of service dogs had begun as well.\n\nAfter six months of chaos, life began to return to normal. Or, as normal as it could be. People stopped caring about looks but having smooth skin and a good voice became the new thin and fit. Smelling good was much more important than it had been. And autocars had been the number one priority.\n\nI understood the fuss, I did, and don't get me wrong, I was glad that people could now function one hundred percent normally in society.\n\nBut I'll admit I was a bit bitter it blindness becoming the norm for all of these to come about. Really showed how selfish people were.\n\nI mean, back when I was one of just 39 million, no one really cared all that much.\n\nI got into bed, giving Max his goodnight belly rub before I did. \n\nOh well. At least having been blind since birth meant I'd become a savior for a few months when the Darkness fell. And afterwards? I didn’t have to worry about what I lost, because I never had it. \n\n---\n\nMore at /r/Hydrael_Writes\n\n"
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1,
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"1496798753",
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[WP] You think somebody is out to get you. Your family do not believe you. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"My wife brought me a sandwich and a water bottle as I sat in the car. \"You're being ridiculous, John. You haven't been inside this house in two days. The kids keep asking about you -- especially Emma.\"\n\nI bit into the sandwich and moaned with delight. \"What did you tell them?\" I asked.\n\n\"That you've been working overtime.\"\n\nI nodded and took a swig from the water bottle. \"Someone's out to get me, Sal. I can't say who, but it's much safer this way.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" she said. \"Well, I told the kids you'll be back tonight. So, if you're not; then don't bother coming back ever. The door will be locked.\"\n\n\"But you don't understand! Why won't you believe me?\"\n\nShe checked her watch. \"The kids go to bed in an hour.\" She quirked her brow at me. \"I *expect* you to be there to tuck them in.\"\n\nAs I entered the house, I noticed the immediate silence. The stillness. \n\nIn the kitchen, I heard the constant stream of running water as my wife watched the dishes. A TV was on somewhere deep in the house, and I could hear my son giggling.\n\nSomething moved in the shadows. I whipped my head to the side to look, but saw nothing.\n\nPadded footsteps, coming at me from all directions.\n\nThen, something small and chubby poked me in the side. I screamed and looked down.\n\nMy four year old daughter laughed and yelled, \"Got you! You're it!\" then ran off, squealing with joy, as I chased her down the hall."
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1,
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"1496827499",
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[WP] Oscar Wilde once said: "Murder is always a mistake. One should never do anything that one cannot talk about after dinner.". Write about an exclusive dinner party that only killers are invited to. | 90 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Nature of the Beast\n\nOscar stood holding a metal tray in his hands behind a large bearded inmate with acne visible beneath sparse hair on the back of his neck. Averting his gaze from the inmate's skin disease Oscar looked down at his tray. One biscuit with thin white gravy on it, A syrupy pile of unidentifiable steam-bleached fruit, and a soggy breaded chicken patty impaled on a spork. A guard stepped through the line between Oscar and the bearded man and took Oscar’s tray from him. “You’re being transferred.” The guard said. “Come with me.” Oscar read his transfer paperwork as the guard walked him down the hall under old, yellow fluorescent lights towards the administrative area. The smell of body odor and rancid oil faded as they walked away from the chow hall. The transfer paper listed “Teclis” as the transfer destination and Oscar recalled a telephone call a year…maybe two years prior in which he had agreed to participate in a special rehabilitation program. The man on the phone had said that word. Teclis. \n\nIn the back of a windowless van shacked to a seat Oscar had 10 hours to contemplate the meaning of the bag that hung on the security gate between him and the drivers. It was the sort of bag that would hold a suit of clothes. “What’s in the bag” he had asked the drivers an hour into the drive. “Shut the fuck up kid-killer. That’s what’s in the bag. Open your mouth again and we’re going to leave some of your teeth by the side of the road.” \n\nOscar watched the highway through a lattice of metal between him and the drivers. The landscape changed from the hills of southern California to the desert of Nevada. The sun overtook the van and dipped toward the horizon bringing the evening scarlet to the wide desert. The van turned right off a dirt road and a field of lush greenery replaced the desert rocks. At the end of a long paved driveway lined by acacia trees Oscar could see five other vans parked in a row in front of a gothic mansion. His van pulled up alongside the others. The light outside was dim and all around the cul-de-sac old-fashioned gaslights hung from wrought iron poles. The guards handled him out of the van and removed his arm and leg shackles. They thrust the bag into his hands. “Get your clothes off. Get dressed.” Oscar unzipped the bag and the smell of dry cleaning chemical overpowered the scent of acacia blossoms. Inside was a pair of black tuxedo pants and a white jacket, bow tie, briefs, black socks, black shoes, shirt, and cufflinks. Oscar stripped out of his clothes and left them in a pile next to the van’s wheel. He put on the tuxedo and said “I don’t suppose either of you know how to tie a bow tie.” The taller of the two guards took the bow tie, tied it into a simple knot and pulled it tight with such force that the veins in his neck bulged out as he strained. He threw it at Oscar’s feet. “Get fucked.” He said. \n\nA man in a red kimono ran out of the mansion and said “finally you have arrived! Come, come inside with me! You are now my guest. Dinner is soon to be served. The other five guests you do not know but there’s one guest you do know! Come! I am your host!” The host spoke with a flamboyant affect and dragged out the word “do” to a crescendo. \n \nOscar entered the dining room behind the host and saw Jessica, his wife standing among the other guests. She looked twenty pounds lighter than the last time he had seen her; the bones in her face were much more pronounced. She looked old. Her hair that had once been shoulder length and bleached blonde was now brown and cut short. She was wearing a black evening gown and a gold necklace with a single pearl that rested just above her breasts. Oscar had not seen cleavage or his wife for many years. \n\nThe host walked to the head of a massive table made out of a solid slab of white marble. On a small white plate in front of him were two whistles, one white and one red. “My name is Teclis and I have spent a considerable fortune to bring you all here. All of you have much in common. All of you were convicted of first degree murder. Each of you is acquainted with exactly one other person here. Exactly one other person here was your accomplice or…helper…or hitman. Whatever.” Here’s what we’re doing. When I blow the white whistle twenty servants will come out. You will all tell them whatever you want to eat. No matter what it is we can get it. While we wait for the food to arrive you will all tell your stories. Thus we will begin your rehabilitation.” He picked up the white whistle, put it to his lips, and made a slight peep. Out of a side door came twenty men in tuxedos who marched into a circle around the killers. Oscar could not take his eyes off of Jessica. He had never in his life seen her so elegantly dressed. Around them the room had erupted into a tumult as the other guests laughed and shouted over one another “Pizza. Pepperoni pizza. Fried catfish. Okra. Grits. McDonald’s. Strawberries. Ice Cream. Apples. Tamales. Reefer. Vodka. Cheese sticks.” Oscar and Jessica stared across the circle of guests and waiters. Jessica’s lips were pulled in tight, her arms crossed with her hands in her armpits. She met his eyes and shifted, then again, and again. Neither one of them spoke. \n\nThe waiters filed out of the room, their dress shoes tapping out a single file path on the wood parquet floor. “Everyone sit!” said Teclis. He sat down, put his elbows on the table and cradled his chin on the back of his entwined fingers. “It is time to see the nature of the beast. You first!” He gestured with a butter knife toward Jessica. Oscar could already see her mascara smearing as she fought back tears. Her right hand was on the table and he reached over to touch it with his left. She pulled it away. “No.” She said. “Let me rephrase my request slightly.” Said Teclis. “Underneath this house is the deepest hole you ever did see. I declare it makes Silence of the Lambs look like the Four Seasons! Tell me the nature of the beast or you will live in that hole until you die.” He spoke with the same flamboyancy as before. Jessica turned her head to look at Oscar. Her eyes got wide in a way he had not seen in all the years that they were together. “No.” She kept looking at Oscar. “Interesting.” Said Teclis. “Take her downstairs.” He peeped the white whistle twice and large man in a tuxedo led Jessica away. Oscar’s mouth hung open as Teclis swung the point of the butter knife in his direction. “I guess we’re only getting your side of the story” he said. \n\n“It’s not a story” said Oscar. “We had a son. He wasn’t born right. He would have been two years old forever. We decided he would be better off with God. I left him in our car. In the sun. Until he died.” Oscar pointed at the door where the man had exited with Jessica. “She agreed. She did the internet search. On her OWN phone she did the search so we knew how long to…wait.” Teclis waved the knife. “So she helped you put him in the car, did she? Buckled him into his little seat and said goodbye, did she?” he said. “No” Oscar said. “She was at work. But she learned how to do it. We agreed. It was her idea.” \n\n“That certainly sounds like a story to me” said Teclis. “I would have liked to hear her side. To hear it here, now, away from the jury, not backed into a corner, not telling the story the lawyers wrote for her. Oh well. She had her chance. “ \n\nOscar put his elbows on the thick white marble and put his face in his hands. The sound of the voices around him seemed to coalesce into an unidentifiable sludge as the cold white marble under his arms chilled his skin. He trembled under his neatly pressed tuxedo. At intervals his fugue was broken as Teclis waved his silver butter knife and responded to the other killers’ stories with loud, dramatic exclamations. \n\n“Oh! You beasts!” \n\n“I can’t believe you thought you would both get away with that!” \n\n“Well you two certainly showed your parents who’s boss!” \n\nThe doors swung open and the scent of grease pushed into the room. In a single file line the waiters walked in carrying silver trays under meticulously polished chrome serving domes. They set the trays down on the table in front of each killer. “Dinner is served!” Teclis said, his arms raised above his head. The spot in front of him on the huge table remained empty. The waiters all removed the chrome lids simultaneously to reveal trays piled with an assortment of food like Oscar had never seen. The tray in front of him bore a thick steak with red juice running out of it, an ear of corn, a slice of watermelon, and a crock of baked beans. A pile of food he had not asked for. \n\n“You’ll have to eat with your hands.” Teclis said. “Can’t go giving monsters like you knives and forks, can we?” He waved his silver butter knife like a conductor’s baton. The waiters exited the room, this time with haste, certainly not in single file. They bumped shoulders as they passed through the door two by two. It closed with a loud click behind them. \n\nOscar stood up. “We’re not monsters.” He said. \n\nTeclis crouched down and put his index finger through a metal ring on the floor. He pulled up on it and a hatch lifted open. \n\n“Sit down. Time to eat. You are monsters if I say you are. I don’t think I can rehabilitate any of you. The woman, perhaps, but not any of you” said Teclis. “It’s time to see the nature of the beast. You all had better eat quickly.” He lifted the red whistle to his lips, took a deep breath and blew into it. It produced no sound. From the open cellar door emerged a filthy black dog. Then another. Another. Another. Oscar stopped counting at ten as he saw Teclis rush through a hidden panel in the wall behind him, the corner of his red kimono still peeking out as the panel snapped shut over it. By the time the swatch of fabric was pulled through the crack the dogs were on Oscar and the others. \n",
"Part 1\n\nI lived in the country, usually under the radar, so mail was always a surprise. I still checked often, however. Never know when some interesting information could come. Not only that, a friend I used to talk to sometimes sent letters. I didn't respond much.\n\nThat day's mail was the same. Almost.\n\nAs I pulled out the only letter there, I was surprised. It had not the adress of my friend, but no return adress or name at all. All it said was \"Lydia.\"\n\nThat's my name, I thought. Nobody knows my name.\n\nI went inside and pulled the letter out. It was a yellow looking paper, stained red by what looked like blood. A color I was familiar with.\n\nIt said, \"Tonight, in the lucky place we all know. You have the day to make it, and if you don't, you will be found.\"\n\nIt was totally hand written, and I knew the lucky place they meant. It was the Murder Ring. People had brought their victims there and killed them, and nobody ever could figure out who killed who, as long as it was commited there.\n\nProblem was, I would have to go off of my safe acres to get there. The TSA would know who I am. However, if I didn't...\n\nI would be found. And every serial murderer knows what that means. In the case you don't, it means brutally tortured and finally killed by the murderers at the Murder Ring. Being killed isn't so bad once they start the torture, either. Being killed is the best part.",
"-texting\n\"Hey, are you going to Smiley's thing dude?\"\n\"Nah, I have shit to do.\"\n\"C'mon it'll be boring without you.\"\n\"I'm gonna be busy, you know how I get after a hunt...I get squeamish.\"\n\"Fuck me! You got a fish?!!!!\"\n\"Yeah, maybe.\"\n\"Dude you always get the good ones, let me have some seconds pleeeeeeas.?\" \n\"Not today man, this bitch is mine only.\"\nClick.",
"I have no idea what I am doing here, driving through an archway that looks like it came straight from a Greek movie, towards the brightly lighted mansion on the hill. Never in my life have I once approached this neighbourhood, much less drive through it. \n\nWith my meager detective pay, I can't even afford to buy a dog house in this estate, reserved for some of the richest and most powerful. But the invitation was too hard to ignore. I look at the golden embroidered card lying on the passenger seat, with my name written clearly on the cover. \"Come to the grand red party,\" it said, \"and all your dreams will be fulfilled.\"\n\nNormally, I would have dismissed the card as another hoax, sent by one of the many crazy people to the police. But it was signed off by the killer who called himself \"The Doctor\", responsible for more than a dozen kidnappings and murders over the past year. No one in the public should know the name, as we have kept the name under wraps to sift out leads worth chasing. I had to know.\n\nI park my car near the lawn of the house, my Honda a pale comparison to the Porches, Lamborghinis, Maseratis and Bentleys around me. My fingers adjust the button of my suit carefully, ensuring that my gun and two spare clips are tucked safely in the hidden pockets that I have sewn into the suit. A knife hangs near my waist, insurance in case things go haywire.\n\nTonight is going to be my solo operation. Chief Hampton had refused my request for backup, citing the lack of evidence for a full blown operation. \"Too risky,\" he simply said, and asked me to be patient. To wait for more leads. But time is something that I do not have. The Doctor's case is a personal case to me, and I am desperate. \n\nI take a deep breath as I walk to the entrance, the sound of jazz music drifting through the double large wooden door. A smartly dressed man, with a brown vest and a red bowtie, stood next to the entrance. He extends his hand as I approach. \"Your invitation card please, sir?\"\n\nI hand him the card and he promptly checks it, before handing it back to me with a smile. \"Ah detective, welcome. The Doctor is waiting for you inside.\"\n\nMy heart skip a beat as I walk through the door, the sound of chatter and the music growing louder. A long hallway connects the entrance to the ballroom, one that reminds me of a medieval setting. I clutch the handle of my knife tightly, fully expecting the entire affair to be a trap by The Doctor.\n\nAs I step into the ballroom, my eyes slowly adjust to the dim lighting. The room suddenly falls quiet and the music comes to an abrupt stop. A figure in the middle of dance floor catches my eye, a face that I immediately recognize. Julia, my daughter. Missing for the past few days, kidnapped by The Doctor.\n\nMy hand reach immediately for my gun, when I hear a familiar voice. \"Ah Detective Ryan, glad to have you here!\" the voice declares in a jovial manner. A loud voice enough to fill the entire room, just like...\n\nI turn immediately, gun drawn, to face the smiling face of Chief Hampton. The bugger is still dressed in his police uniform.\n\n\"You!\" I seethe. \"You're The Doctor!\"\n\nHampton laughs. \"Took you long enough to figure it out. Not to mention you need my help to do it.\"\n\n\"Why? Where is this? Where am I?\" I ask. Questions flood my head, while my sharp pain of betrayal stabs through my heart. I grip my gun tighter, to stop it from shaking.\n\nThe Chief walk past me, towards Julia, before turning to face me. He gestures to the around him, to all the smartly dressed people in the room. In my blur of emotion, I did not recognize most of the faces when I first walked in, but they are starting to strike me as strangely familiar. I swear I can see the faces of some prominent mobsters and even dictators in the room.\n\n\"Welcome to the dinner of killers!\" the chief shouts, to the applause and cheers of the attendees. He then points at me. \"You included.\"\n\n\"I am not a killer,\" I whisper back.\n\nHe grins at me sentence, staring me straight with his dark brown eyes. \"Oh, you will be soon enough.\"\n\n--------------\n\n*Shoot or don't shoot? Why not subscribe to /r/dori_tales? As usual, feedback welcomed!*",
"London is used to seeing posh, exclusive get-together gatherings of middle aged men who try to impress each other with their mediocre accomplishments in life but this one was slightly different. For one, the dark restaurant, operating in a damp Hampstead basement, had no sign outside. Its staff was well trained to keep to themselves and the annoying habit of pretending to befriend the clientele was not practiced in that particular restaurant.\n \n \nThere were about 20 of them, all with dark, slim fit suits, which could hide very well handguns -- although tonight all firearms were deposited before the gathering began. The bi-annual meeting of United Kingdom’s top hitmen started as a way for the top-of-the-top to socialize safely. Despite their secretive work, they were eager to talk; after all, at the end of a long day they could never share with their spouse their hardships or events. \n \n \nVery few of them have declined the personalized invite. That hand-written note emphasized they should come on their own -- no plus ones. “*Be yourself; everyone else is already taken*,” it simply said, but they knew what this code means.\n \n \n \n“Have you finished reading Dorian Gray?” asked Mr. Brown.\n \n \n \n“Of course, some two weeks ago, on the train to Glasgow. Personally, I would just murder the old bastard -- we both know that highly valued paintings worth it,” answered Mr. White, ever so sure of himself.\n \n \n \n“And did you like it?”, Mr. Brown tried to ignore the condescending tone.\n \n \n \n“Meh. Not much to talk about there -- too much dialogue and not enough action. Give me a Bruce Willis film any day instead and I’ll take it.”\n \n \n \n“OK, but I think you’re missing out on so many details when going to the cinema. Which reminds me --”\n \n \n \n“--I know, you want to ramble on one of the films you watched on a plane, right?” interjected Mr. White. \"You're always dropping the fact you've a private jet. We get it.\"\n \n \n \n“Never interrupt me again,” Mr. Brown waved his steak knife menacingly.\n \n \n \nAt this point O’Brian decided to step between the two men. “Guys, relax. We’ve decided to leave agressions outside tonight, right?” he smiled reassuringly. “Besides, you shouldn’t hold a grudge for that misunderstanding you had two years ago. You know, *you should always forgive your enemies -- nothing annoys them so much*,” he winked.\n \n \n \nMr. Brown smacked the table with his large hand and faked a hearty laughter. “Sure, sure! You’re perfectly right. Look at us, getting excited over some old book, heh?” he reached his other hand towards Mr. White in a gesture of peace. Mr. White hesitated for a moment and reached his own hand to make the reconciliatory shake of peace.\n \n \n \n“Very good,” said O’Brian. He was always a peacemaker, a critical skill when growing up in the rough neighborhoods of North Dublin. “Another bottle of wine, maybe?” he suggested, looking around the table. “I heard the bar here is great.”\n \n \n \n“They do know their stuff,” agreed Mr. Brown. “Too bad they don’t have prices on the menu.”\n \n \n \n“*If you’ve price for everything, you’ll value nothing*,” retorted Mr. White.\n \n \n \n“Go on, let’s move to the heavier stuff. We’re all done with the eating,” shouted at him McDermott from the other end of the table, his strong Belfast accent contrasting O’Brian softer one. \n \n \n \n“Aye-aye”, murmurs of consent sounded from around the table. O’Brian went to the bar to bring a nice bottle of cognac.\n \n \n \nO’Brian returned to the table with a nice bottle of Croizet from 1916. When he noticed how Brown and White were still not at ease, he placed the bottle gently aside and then put a firm hand each on Brown and White’s shoulders. “Fellas, give it a break. We get it: you’re all big machos, but we’re here to enjoy ourselves, not just to start a fight, right?”\n \n \n \nAt the other end of the table only parts of this conversation were heard. “A fight?” shouted McDermott, almost slurring out the words as he was getting drunker and drunker. “Why have a fight? Surely we can do better. We fight all day long for our living, for our country, for … some money!” he roared with laughter, triggering similar reaction from at least half the crowd.\n \n \n \n“Look at him, talking about work again,” said Mr. Brown quietly.\n \n \n \n“*Work is the curse of the drinking classes*,” added Mr. White. “Too bad he’s such a terrible drinker.”\n \n \n \n“At least he’s not bringing up murders,” chimed in O’Brian, and with that remark the chatter around the room deceased at once, as everyone was looking at him accusingly.\n \n \n \n“*Never bring up murder*,” said Mr. Brown.\n \n \n \n“*That is always a mistake*,” added Mr. White, and McDermott hailed from the other end of the room, “*I’ve never murdered anyone: one should never do anything that one cannot talk about after dinner!*\"\n \n \nO'Brian bowed out, excused himself to the door, and mumbled to himself: \"we should open an Oscar Wilde book-club instead.\"\n "
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[WP] On your 18th birthday, your mother sits you down and says, "You're old enough to know now." You look at her curiously as she continues. "Your father is Father Time." | 13 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"It's simple, son. Time, well, it has ways of catching you. Even if you ain't prepared for such things. He just sneaks up and pulls you into his arms before you even know what to expect. \nThat's how you came along. \nI won't bother you with the specifics, you're old 'nuff to understand the sort of thing I'm talking about. Sometimes it's lonely out there. And a person needs another person, even if for a night. \n\"Time's no different. \nHe said he watched me fer years. Which ain't much for his sort. It weren't nothing I never heard before. Men of all sorts were always knocking on my door. Flowers. Promises. They never meant much in the long run. \nYour father, well, he was different. The words felt better on him. Fit him like a fine suit. Crisp and clean as his eyes. He told me 'bout who he was. What he did. Why we could never be together. But he knew I special. He knew I would go on to do something with my life. \nI ain't never heard words like that from a man. The men around me, they call me pretty, sure. I was blessed in that department. But none of them ever said I was special. Or that I could make something of the lot I was given. \nI needed to do something with the lot I was given. \nI warmed to him like butter on bread fresh from the oven. We only had a night but it seemed to span eternity. Like life stood still for eons before starting right back up again. \nWell, here I am yapping on 'bout things I said I wouldn't. Short of it is: you're that something special. You're the gift he gave to me. And you're the gift I give to the world. I ain't sure what you'll do with your lot. But I made sure it was better than mine. I don't have much of time left in me. But I have enough to tell you that you'll do great things. And I love you, son.\" ",
"I am six. The doctor is looking at me strangely. I look back into his eyes and he turns away. He has been poring over the results on his computer screen, which is as old as I am, in increasing agitation for the past 13 minutes before giving up. Mom sits beside me in one of the mint-green chairs which were purchased for the clinic in 1993, her knee bouncing up and down at a frequency of twice per second.\n\n\"It's just I've never seen anything quite like this before. The samples, the scans... they're all over the place. Not to mention the psych eval... Biologically speaking I could make an argument for any age between dead and.... prenatal, by pointing to different parts of this report. Are we sure they all came from...\" The doctor has a halting way of speaking, each pause punctuated by a swirling motion of his hand. On the last one, he takes a furtive glance at me. I have only the vaguest sense of some of the words. 'Prenatal' is one I will acquire when I am nine, I have reason to believe. The fact that I have this belief does not strike me as odd. After all, I am six.\n\n\"But is there anything seriously *wrong* with him, Doctor Sing?\" mom asks, quietly, as if hoping I won't hear.\n\n\"Define wrong!\" the doctor throws his hands up in the air. I swing my legs back and forth off the front of the chair and pretend not to listen. \"There is nothing life-threatening, at least not the I can tell... but you should really take him to a specialist upstate. I specialize in pediatrics, but this is... I don't know what this is.\"\n\n\"I'm not taking him upstate,\" mom says flatly. She reaches over to take my hand.\n\n\"Look, maybe I got my readings wrong, but maybe I didn't! Your son could result in... reams of research, if this is correct! Any of this!\"\n\n\"I don't want him to result in reams of research! I just want him to have a normal life!\"\n\nDr. Sing's canted eyes soften. \"That's all any of us want. But sometimes it's not possible. Your son may be one of those cases. I...\"\n\n\"I think I've heard all I care to hear from you, Dr. Sing,\" mom sniffs. She gathers me up in her arms. I'm slightly too big for such a maneuver, anymore, but she does it anyway and I hold tight around her shoulders.\n\nI will not see a doctor again until I am seventeen.\n\n*** \n\nI am 12. New old school. It was founded in 1927, though this building is of a more recent vintage - 2001 or so. The most recent eruption on my face reached maximum anger twelve hours ago, while I slept. The oldest has stubbornly hung on for four days. The percussion instrument I am playing was acquired by the music department in 1987. It is a connected group of hollow wooden blocks of various sizes and resonances, played with round-ended wooden mallets. A small crowd has gathered to watch me, consisting of the most open-minded of the Band kids. One is operating a pair of metronomes hidden behind a fortress of sheet music binders, so that I cannot see or easily hear them.\n\n\"Aaaand... go!\" she says, setting them to ticking.\n\nI begin to play. I hit one of the boxes with my left mallet at 60 bpm. I hit another with the right mallet at 78 bpm. Beside me, a pair of the other students begin tapping out another beat on the table at a third rate, one I judge to be around 50 bpm, though they sloppily vary. The metronome girl's eyes flicker from the devices to my hands, widening as they continue to match tempo.\n\n\"Holy crap. I've never seen someone keep two tempos like that before. Least not a student. *Maaaybe* Mrs. Murphy could do it. You say you've never played before?\" asks one of the older students.\n\n\"Right on the nanosecond!\" the metronome girl exclaims. She exaggerates. Due to lag in the nerves I am accurate to the millisecond at best.\n\n\"You've gotta join Band, man. Dump that art elective. This is, like, your calling, dude. We need you on the drumline.\"\n\nThe people who will become my first real friends don't notice that beneath the table, with my right foot, I am tapping along to their third beat.\n\n***\n\nI am eighteen. Mom is forty-nine. She has hesitated for thirty-seven seconds after asking me to sit down in the living room. I am on the couch that we got second-hand in 2008, which was manufactured in... but no. I've matured. I've learned to not do... that thing I do sometimes. I don't need to tell you the year everything was created as if that lets you infer its character the same way telling you its color or texture might. I've long since learned that not everyone can impute meaning from chronology.\n\nThe couch is upholstered in dark blue and cream, the varnish on its wooden frame worn through in places. There.\n\nI anticipate remembering this conversation. I've tried to stop doing that, as well - anticipating remembering things. Just like I've tried to shake this detached atemporal style I've defaulted to ever since I acquired fine motor skills enough to write. I've never written with the innocence of youth or the passion of adolescence. I've never had those things to write with. I anticipate remembering this conversation as explaining the reason why.\n\n\"You're old enough to know now. Though sometimes I think you were always old enough. Or... something like that,\" she says, tilting her head and looking at me the way she always does when my way of existing presents a puzzle to her. \"But if I have to select a time it ought to be now.\"\n\nI look at her curiously as she continues. Though I can anticipate memories (at least, that is the phrase I settled on when I was eleven to describe this apparently unique mental process), there is still something new to be learned from actually experiencing the event which will become the memory. I remember mainly my reactions to this conversation, the fallout from it. Its contents are sublimated away from these anticipations, too fundamental to my identity to actually feature in the memories themselves. When you remember a cherished holiday with your family, or a close relative's funeral, you don't remember specifically what color your eyes were during it. That's separate. This is separate, what I'm about to hear. It has flitted throughout these anticipated memories for my entire life but it has never fully entered them. It is too big for that.\n\nMy eyes are brown.\n\n\"Your father,\" mom says, \"is Father Time.\"\n\nI blink.\n\nMom breaks into a wide smile. \"That was my reaction too. It sounds crazy, right?\"\n\n\"It does,\" I agree, quietly. I don't like to talk much, when I can help it. But this seems to demand response. \"How?\"\n\n***\n\n*I'll do more if anyone wants it.*"
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[WP] Common idioms like "kill two birds with one stone", "beat around the bush", or "raining cats and dogs" aren't metaphors. they all refer to actual everyday events. | 4 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Beyond the bed of roses, on the other side where the grass was always greener, Mary beat around the bush.\n\n\"There's got to be a bird in here somewhere,\" she said.\n\n\"But I've got a bird in my hand,\" Michael said. \"It's worth at least two birds in that bush.\"\n\n\"That's a bird of a different feather,\" Mary said. \"The ones looking I'm looking for have black and grey feathers. They're geese. Here, can you get a look under this branch?\"\n\n\"This goose chase is getting out of hand. It's wild.\" Michael returned his bird to its cage and bent over backwards for Mary.\n\n\"What do you see? Keep your eyes open.\"\n\n\"I see a nest with an egg in it. A nest egg. A few of them, actually.\"\n\nThey took the eggs out of the nest. \"I hope they really are goose eggs, and not just lame ducks,\" Mary said. \"Let's not put them all in one basket.\"\n\n\"Mm. Safer that way.\"\n\nOn their way back into town, they passed a dog barking on the side of the road. \"That dog's barking up the wrong tree,\" Michael said. \"See? There's a cat in the next tree over.\"\n\n\"Is it scaredy?\"\n\n\"No, it's napping.\"\n\nA low, dark shape flit among the trees. \"Is that what I think it is?\" she said.\n\nMichael squinted. \"It might be. Farmer Jacques had better see this.\" He titled his head back and cried, \"Wolf!\"\n\nFarmer Bill came running over and Mary pointed out the wolf. \n\n\"*Je m'en fous*,\" Farmer Jacques said. \"Pardon my French. I was feeding that dog the other day and it bit my hand.\" He showed them the teethmarks. \"Besides, sometimes dogs eat dogs. It's a dog-eat-dog world.\" He thanked them for the warning and offered them a ride back into town on his wagon. \"*Faisez attention*,\" he said. \"It's going to be a bumpy ride.\"\n\nThat's when it began to rain cats and dogs. The animals hit the ground heavily, with much cracking and splatting of bones and organs. They broke through the wagon's roof and pummeled Jacques' horses. He was forced off the road into the cover of nearby trees.\n\n*****\n\n*sorry, that's all i've got.*\n\n*****\n\nr/TravisTea"
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"1496902616",
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[WP] Magic was discovered in 1985. It's 1989 now. | 38 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"**Blank's Diary**\n\n*Current date: Year 1989, January 19th.*\n\nLooking back, I couldn't quite tell you about the world prior to magic. It was as if we were looking at the *fundamentals* without seeing the *core structure.* The first **Users** were the most feared. Or what we assume to be the first. It started off sometime *around 1985*, the scientific community was bursting with discovery after discovery. We thought we had conquered everything on Earth and began to ponder the stars. We reached to the *Heavens* with our tiny mechanical rockets. We had even placed several *men on the moon!* Even then, we couldn't comprehend the discovery to come. Some say *God* descended from the *Heavens* and returned to us the power he had prior taken, others blamed the constant scientific progression. It was almost laughable looking back at them arguing over what to call it or who to blame. \n\nIn the first year, *they* had reduced the overall booming population of humans by almost **67%.** That was even before the first man began to fly freely through space. After that we learned to swim amongst the stars. Willing our bodies to amazing speeds and needing almost nothing to sustain ourselves (I believe that someone of expertise explained it to me as when our bodies are thrust through space our magic aura essentially nets all the necessary nutrients and matter that our bodies require). Needless to say, flying was as easy as breathing on Earth. You barely had to think and it would happen. Our spinal cords had fully adapted to their new functions and taken them over as if it were second nature. \n\nThe source and general strength of our magic hasn't been tested to its **full capacity.** We believe it to be held somewhere within the general understanding of physics. Essentially, some people could be capable of sustaining auras and magic to match or overpower a *Supermassive Black Hole*. This was the first true crisis for *humanity*. Criminals and terrorists within the **User** community had begun to band together. They formed the *Guild of the Damned* the name which was probably based off some prior cult scriptures. Or maybe it was of religious origin based on the acronym they use *G.O.D.* Well, one of their \"geniuses\" hatched the most eccentric plan imaginable, *\"Heya bros! Wanna like try and destroy the Sun?\"* With a couple of years practice, they managed to create a miniature black hole. After this they amassed a suicide squad *rigurium* with the intent of placing the miniature within the Sun's close atmosphere. You think the *Governments Intelligence and Security* was bad prior to the magical boom? It only got worse after... I awoke like every other morning, still riling with bad choices from the prior night. Needing nothing more than to extinguish the stress and worry with a cigarette, I slowly began to arise. Silently slipping the closest clothes over my slender body before mustering up the courage to ascend to the roof. I loved that roof. As I made the steady climb, pushing back the metal door, I was greeted with, well, not the usual morning sun. Instead, what was in its place was an almost equally blinding *black emptiness.* I haven't enjoyed a cigarette as much as I did that one. The team from *G.O.D.* had definitely succeed in creating what was known as the *Black Day.* I never quite understood how they managed to call it a *Day.* I was nearly through my cigarette as I began slipping through space-time, rushing to view this *new sun.* I wasn't the first to arrive, nor the last. Around me I heard pop after pop, people slowly filling in to see the mysterious darkness up close. Suddenly, it was as though the darkness began to evaporate off the Sun, pulling away in mass planetary size chunks. Behind me I heard a chuckle, I turned to see who it was. Gazing down at me with a sinister grin was *myself.* He stopped chuckling long enough to say **\"Now YOU are beginning to see our true powers\"** slipping his existence back into *mine.*"
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[deleted] | [WP]"Son, Daughter, you both must understand of this world. Even the Demigods may lose their drive, become crestfallen, have diminished hope and faith have lapses of capability." | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Annalise scoffed and stormed off to her room while I just crossed my arms. \"Dad.\"\n\n\"What's *her* problem, am I right?\" He grinned, jerking a thumb her way. \n\n\"Dad.\"\n\n\"What?\" His face was already turning red. I could see the sweat pouring.\n\n\"*Dad*.\"\n\nHe threw his hands up. \"Fine! Yes, I cheated on your mother again. But I can't help it, son. I'm a *god*. You don't understand -- it's like, in my *DNA*!\"\n\nI watch as he falls in a seat and buries his face I'm his hands.\n\n\"Where's Mom now?\"\n\n\"At your school,\" he groaned. \n\n\"My sch-\" *He didn't*. \"Did you...and Ms. Hem-\"\n\nA nod. I groaned. *He did*.\n\n\"My *teacher*, Dad? My teacher?\" Now I was the one groaning. Now all those passing scores made sense. Now everytime I went to class and looked at Ms. Hemmingway, I had to think about...\n\n*No. You don't have to think about it. Just drop out. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Run away, move to Alaska, build an igloo, train some huskies. It's perfect.*\n\n\"You're sick, Dad.\"\n\nNo reply. \n\nI sighed, feeling a little bad for the guy. It probably *was* in his DNA for all I knew. I had seen him around beautiful woman before, and it was like a puppy on a crack. He couldn't control it. It was just...him.\n\n\"So, what next?\" I asked, breaking the silence. \"You're going to run off to Olympus again for another few years? You know that's why Annalise is mad. Besides the fact that you never took her, the last time she saw you she was four.\"\n\nHe lifted his head up slowly and looked at me. \"How old is she now?\"\n\n\"*Twelve*, Dad. Almost thirteen.\" \n\nThere was a moment of silence, then, \"I don't think she's ready.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" I challenged. \"You took *me*, and I was only like, what, five?\"\n\n\"It's different.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"You're a boy.\"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"It's dangerous for girls.\" \n\n\"Hmm...\" I rubbed my chin. \"Let's see...\"\n\n\"Don't start,\" he grumbled, massaging his forehead.\n\n\"I just don't understand. You said because it was dangerous for girls, but I was *clearly* attacked when I was there.\"\n\nHe waved a dismissive hand. \"You were fine. You were on Mount Olympus. All those gods and goddesses were your family.\"\n\n\"So take her to Mount Olympus! They're her family, too! Aren't they?\"\n\n\"Of course, of course, but-\"\n\n\"But what?\" I folded my arms again, something that was becoming quite the habit today. \n\nHe leaned back and gave a great heave. \"The truth is...there's problems on Mount Olympus, son. Something that I need to fix. It's not safe for her, you, *anybody* right now.\"\n\nSuddenly, realization dawned on me. \"Is that why you cheated on Mom again? So-\"\n\n\"-that she'll find someone better than me, son.\"\n\nI took a step back and frowned. \"How serious is this problem?\"\n\n\"It's serious.\"\n\n\"When...when will you be coming back?\"\n\nHe sighed and shook his head. \"I don't know, son. I don't know.\"\n\n◇◇◇◇◇\n\n\"Annalise,\" I whispered. \"Annalise!\" \n\nOne eye opened, and she squinted up at me. \"Huh?\" she yawned. \"What are you doing in my room?!\" She whissed (whisper-hissed).\n\n\"Get dressed.\" \n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"We're going to Mount Olympus.\"\n\n"
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1,
1
] | [
"1496954687",
"1496957645"
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[WP] You are an evil overlord who has finally ascended to your throne as ruler of all the world. Turns out it's kind of a shitty job. | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"YOU HAVE ONE NEW ISSUE\" said J-9, the monotone but sweet sounding AI assistant. \n\"Damn it, what now?\" Yelled Doctor Zaltar, as he slowly crawled out of his sleep pod. \"All these damn issues. Laws, personal disputes, ah damn it. \nComputers buzzed as the Dark Lord of Transhumans put on his neuro suit and connected to the interface. \n\"YOU ASSISTANCE IS REQUESTED.\" \n\"Regarding what?\" \n\"YOUR PREVIOUSLY ENACTED WORLDWIDE ABORTION LAWS ARE CAUSING ISSUES WITH NUMEROUS CITIZENS.\" \n\"Issues?\" \n\"CORRECT. THE FOLLOWING CITIZENS WILL BE BORN WITH PREVIOUSLY UNACCOUNTED FOR GENETIC DEFECTS: B000,000,000,606 , B000,000,002,815, B000,071,699, B000,072,111, B000,072,112, B000\" \n\"Okay yes stop.\" yelled the tired young man, holding his head in his hands. He raised to a straight sitting position, letting out a long sigh and continues. \n\"Pull up the numbers on a vertical list, horizontally add birth defect code for both parents, possible birth defect code, expected life span of subject in question and finally a simple yes or no column, with a \"yes\" marking the subjects who will be able to be productive in society in 20 years after birth.\" \nCooling fans turned on as the gigantic server room got filled with their buzzing in a few moments. \n\"LIST COMPLETE. 193,024 SUBJECTS HAVE BEEN LISTED. 457 REQUIRE FURTHER ASSISTANCE AS MY ALGORITHM IS INADEQUATE FOR DETERMINING THE CORRECT ANSWER\" \n\"Jesus Christ...\" \n\"COUNTER SCIENTIFIC PROFANITY DETECTED? ADMINISTERING SHOCK THERAPY IN 3.. 2.. 1..\" \n\"Wait\" \n* Bzzzzzt * \n\"Exemption from law 699-2B: Doctor Maximilian Zaltar\" \n\"17 MATCHES ADDED AS EXEMPTIONS\" \n\"Only add me, local code 001\" \n\"17 MATCHES REMOVED AS EXEMPTION, 1 MATCH ADDED AS EXEMPTION TO LAW 699-2B\" \n\"Now get back to work, pull back the previous work tab.\" \n\"PROCESS COMPLETE\" \n\"Let's see, citizen B000,000,000,606, parents... defects... \" mumbling soon took over as the neuro interface finished connecting itself to Zaltar's brain, he swept through family medical records and determined the faith of his future loyal subject in a mere 4 minutes. \n\"Laws worked great, but the next step in humanity required more. Fixing the errors in the legal system. Even after killing 3 billion people with a nanovirus, you have to realize sooner or later... you can not save everyone, and nothing will bring her back\" played the machine silently, from an old PC from Zaltar's lab, tasked with being an outlet for negative thoughts, but even with its 99.9% success rate, it will still not be enough. One day he will remember. He will remember why and for whom. He will remember eventually, but until that moment comes, this will be his self chosen punishment."
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1,
2
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"1497043834",
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[WP] The Led Zeppelin we know is a famous rock band. What few know is that in the multiverse, they will be found together in some form. Whether they're first on the moon or 5th triumvirate of Narnia. You've been going through the multiverses, when you find a combo that even you don't see coming. | 23 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"As Ben watched the news report, choking on his coffee in surprise, he remembered what he’d been told when he started multiverse jumping: Everything and anything can happen. And when there’s an infinite number of realities to choose from, they often do.\n\nHe still remembered the first alternate earth he’d jumped to. Earth-16A10BG. In that timeline, the NES had never released outside of Japan. While it was still huge there, admittedly, video games were thought of as some strange thing that only the Japanese cared about, like anime or tentacle porn. Or anime tentacle porn. As strange as that was to him at the time, it only got stranger.\n\nFor instance, how about Earth-5212A, where through some miracle cats had become sentient, and the world was on the brink of a century long interspecies war? Or maybe Earth-8U5T30, where catastrophic flooding in 2963 had forced humanity to find a way to live beneath the waves, and the 90s boy band craze had never really died down? Or maybe even Earth-1204AU, where wars between countries were settled by televised giant robot fights? Remember, infinite realities, infinite possibilities.\n\nAnd yet, even with an infinite number of possibilities, somehow there was one constant.\n\nLed Zeppelin.\n\nIt had all started way back on Earth-4791R3, where he’d caught a glimpse of the final race of the 1991 F1 season. He had started giggling when he saw that the drivers in a four way fight for the lead were J. Page, R. Plant, J. P. Jones, and J. Bonham. A quick check with one of the customers of the bar he was watching the race in confirmed that yes, the leader was James Page, the Ferrari driver who hadn’t finished outside the podium all season. And yes, he was being chased by the McLarens of Jean-Paul Jones and Robert Plant, and the Renault of John Bonham. Ben had made his excuses and left the bar, giggling to himself at what he’d just come across. In a world where so many things were different, he’d found the members of Led Zeppelin together as a group, and not as a band? What were the odds of that happening? That had to be a fluke. He thought no more of it.\n\nIt wasn’t until he found that they’d replaced the original cast of Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers on Earth-15AT41, and that they were the researchers responsible for the creation of the ARPANET on Earth-T3RA21 that he started to take notice. And then he started noticing them everywhere.\n\nRobert Plant was responsible for making \"The Room\" on Earth-538A14, and the other three were actors. They were a pro wrestling stable down in Mexico on Earth-0957LU. Ben couldn’t find them for a while on Earth-40R6A35, until he saw a news report confirming that four SAS members that looked just liked them had been killed while on a top secret mission in 1997. This repeated for hundreds of different realities: Led Zeppelin always appeared as a group, but never as a rock band.\n\nBy this point, Ben had seen everything. He knew that Led Zeppelin were going to show up, and it wasn’t going to surprise him. That was until he’d walked into a small South London coffee shop on Earth-1567WP5, and idly started watching the news.\n\nHe put his mug on the table, still trying to cough up the hot coffee. He shook his head. “No way,” he thought to himself. “There is no way this is happening.”\n\n“Hey mate, you alright?”\n\nBen turned. The sole barista standing behind the counter was looking at him with a look of concern. He was fairly young, and not much taller than Ben was. He had a patchy beard and short brown hair, and was holding a mug in his hand.\n\n“Yeah, I’m good.” Ben said. He’d burned his tongue, but other than that he was fine. He turned back to the TV, then to the barista again. “Hey, mind if I ask you something?”\n\n“Sure.”\n\nBen pointed to the screen. “Who are those guys?” he asked.\n\nThe barista grunted. “Oh, those guys? Those guys are the ones who are trying to get laws passed to ban any vaguely offensive song getting radio play,” he said. He gestured vaguely towards the screen. “I know the middle one’s called James… Page, I think? Got no clue what the rest of their names are. Why you askin’?”\n\nBen paused, considering his answer carefully. Somehow he knew that “They’re a famous rock band in the universe I come from and I’ve been following them across the multiverse to see what they’re doing. Oh, and by the way, parallel universes are real,” was not the correct one.\n\n“They just… look like some guys I used to know,” he said, finally. He took another swig of coffee.\n\n“Fair enough.” The bartender said, going back to polishing the mug he was holding. “It’s just a crock of shit, really. Bunch of bastards in suits trying to enforce what sort of music you can make, like it’s going to stop anybody.” He laughed to himself, and sighed.\n\n“Besides, they’re just a bunch of politicians. What would any of them know about making music?”\n\nBen choked on his coffee. Again.\n\n*(AN: I like to imagine the same thing’s true for the Ramones, except they’re ALWAYS a rock band and they’re always making the same type of music. No matter what.)*"
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1,
7
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"1497101109",
"1497125371"
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[WP] You're a dog. There's a reason why you don't like the mailman. | 6 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Badman was here.\nEven though Patch couldn't see him yet, the kaleidoscope of his scent rushed under the front door, filling the hallway. It was a full minute before the morning sun was partially blocked by Badman's feet. The mail dropped and Patch momentarily struggled with himself, forcing himself not to run towards it, that strange paper invader that felt so good to tear and shred. He knew that would be a baddog thing to do. Mother-hun and Father-Jack had taught Patch about baddog long ago and so he let the letters fall to the floor and simply watched as the myriad of smells invaded his home. \n\nThe door-handle turned. Slowly. Patch heard the springs inside the handle strain as they bunched and stretched unnaturally slow. That was not a good sound, this was a badsound. \n\nPatch whimpered in his indecision, his ears pointed and tail high. Badman hadn't always been badman. Once he had been Newperson. He had replaced Goodmorning! who’s aging scent had slowly become more and more saturated with tiredness until Goodmorning! stopped coming altogether.\n\nPatch was goodboy! and knew not to shout or cry when newperson came to the house. The mailman's morning routine had always been confined to a few brief moments of noise and paper then the sound of receding steps – rubber on concrete, then grass as he cut the corner and went on his way.\nBut this, this slow opening of the front door by a newperson, by a Badman , this was wrong.\nSomething was wrong with newperson. He shouldn't be trying to open the door. The sound of the door opening was joy-happy-father-mother-home-play-touch-eat-walk. This was different. This was outside. Outside coming into Home. Patch's home.\n\nThe doorknob stopped turning and the footsteps left. A pause then the sound of rubber shoes scrambling against the driveway fence before dropping to the back garden. \n\nInside! Badman was inside! The urine stained perimeter Patch had worked so hard to establish and maintain was being flagrantly ignored. He jumped to his feet, a fully formed growl now, vibrating so hard his small body shook . \n\nBadman's face filled the small window of the hallway and before Patch knew what he was doing he began barking, a high, yapping sound edged with fear and anger. The suddenness of Badman's appearance terrified and enraged Patch, so much so a squirt of urine sprayed the carpet under him, still warm from his nap.\n\nBadman shaded his eyes, pressed his big nose against the glass and in a moment locked eyes with Patch. Badman grinned. \nFear, urine, the scent of shame and baddog was all Patch could smell now, and in the epicentre of this Patch raged as loud as he could, hoping Mother-hun or Father-Jack would hear him, knowing they wouldn't, that whatever place them hid from him every day was far from here.\n\nBadman's fingers scraped along the window, nails found purchase, the sound of metal against wood with a grunt, Badman tore the window off the wall, frame and glass and all. \n\n'Hello doggie.' Badman said. Patch knew the words, he was five after all but the tone of them dripped with black intent. \n\nPatch whirled, a small furry dervish of apoplectic anger and desperation, his thin yapping useless as Badman began to fill the square hole he had torn in the side of Patch's home. Badman grunted, lifting himself up and began to crawl in.\n\nPatch ran forwards, jumping as high as he could, his nails scraping at the wall, tearing the wallpaper (baddog!) trying to reach Badman, to bite, to fight. He caught one of Badman's hands, the alien taste of it filling his small mouth as his tiny teeth sank deep into the foul smelling fleshy hand.\n\nThere was a blinding white light that obscured Patch's world, filling his body and thoughts with a pain so large for a moment it blinded him. Patch tasted blood and when the white light faded saw he had been knocked into the corner, Badman stood over him, a metal bar raised, flecked with blood and fur.\n\n'Fucking bastard dog!” Badman examined his blood-soaked hand. Patch's bite was shallow but somehow drew an inordinate amount of blood that gushed down Badman's arm and splattered the hallway floor. \n- Badman stepped closer, and raised the metal bar again. Patch could do nothing, the pain numbed him from head to tail. Death would come now, Patch could smell it, smell it coming from him and for him. He hoped he had been goodboy! enough..\n\nPatch flinched as the bar flew towards his small skull and-\n\nThere was a knock on the front door. The bar froze. Badman froze. Even Patch froze, a tableau of thick scents. \n\n'Patches? Paaaatches?' Oldwomankindtreat was at the door. The smell of the metal bar in Badman's hand combined with the blood and all but drowned out Patch's senses but the voice of Oldwomankindtreat was unmistakable. \nThe knocking continued. Patches tried to call out but the broken ribs dug splinters as he tried to yell, tried to move, tried to do anything.\n\nHe howled instead, a last resort sound, one he had been forbidden to do for as long as he could remember. The mournful sound of it filled the house.\n\n'Oh dear Patches...!' Oldwomankindtreat muttered as she began to fumble in her purse for the spare keys. Badman looked at the door then back to Patches, fear and panic chased each other across his face as he tried to decide what to do. The bar raised, lowered, raised... and badman started towards the front door.\n\nNo! thought Patch. Not her! Oldwomankindtreatwas good and kind. And even though she lived nextdoor and herefore was outside of the permieter her scent was a welcome part of this house. \n\nPatches tried to get back on his feet, struggled to stand and fell back, his hind legs no longer seemed to work. Instead he crawled forwards, towards Badman who now had his back turned to Patches, who waited behind the front door, his fat fingers clentching the metal bar so hard his knuckles were white. \n\nPatch dragged himself silently, slowly, urine and blood streaking the carpet behind him, his little neck twisting to the left and right as if he could swim towards his destination now that running or walking was no longer possible. \n\nA jangle of keys as Oldwomankindtreat dropped them on the front porch. The sequential sound of her slowly stooping to pick them up. \n\nCloser, closer now, Patchfixed his eyes on Badman's leg, specifically an inch above the ankle. He would bite down hard, he would not let go, he would be a GOODBOY! and not let go, even if it meant his death. This home must be protected, this home-\n\nThe door opened, Oldwomankindtreat peered into the gloom of the hallway, the sunny Outside framing her in the doorway. \n\n'Too far, I'm too far!' Patch's heart sank as he struggled forwards. \n\n'Hello? Patches? Linda? Jack?' The door hid Badman almost perfectly and as Oldwomankindtreat stepped through into the house her eyes found Patch, a disfigured ball of broken bone and fur now. \n\n'Patches my God what-' Badman stepped out from behind the door, and raised that hateful metal bar high as Patches whined and-\n\nHands. Hands on Patch. The tapestry of smells and sounds changed, faded, vanished. \n'There boy...there boy, it's alright its-OW!' Patch lashed out, biting and kicking, his legs now suddenly working.\n\n'Ow! Patches! It's ok! Hey boy!' Father-Jack was there, Father-Jack was patting him, stroking him in reassuring voice while Mother-hun stoodover them both.\n'Did he bite you? I told you not to wake him. You know what they say about sleeping dogs.' \n\n'I'm ok, look, flesh wound.' Father Jack continued to stroke Patch as Patch shivered and trembled in then crawled into Father-Jack's arms. Weeping now, the dream fell apart completely, leaving Patch trembling and wet with sweat. \n\n'Its ok boy, its ok...jeeze that must have been some dream kid.' Strong hands carried him, lifted him up and Patch licked Father-Jack's face to be sure it was real. \n\n'Ew dog kisses!' Father Jack shouted, hugging Patch even closer before putting him down. Patch scurried around Father-Jack's legs his nose pressed to the carpet. \n\nNo blood, no urine. Patch hunted around for the scent of Badman, the scent of Oldwomankindtreat, anything...even the metal bar but there was nothing but the smell of home and his parents.\n\nHe had to be sure though. Patch trotted to the front door, sniffed it and whimpered quietly, more to himself than anyone else. Badman's scent was there but it was old, faded.\n\n'What's up boy?' Father-Jack had followed him to the front door. 'You wanna go for a walk?' \nWalk was good Patch thought. Walk was always good. ",
"---ee not my best i think.\n\nHe always comes at the same time.\n\nThe days may change, but the time remains constant. So i stand guard. My senses alert, i hear him always before i see him; I shout my curses at him, beg him to pry down the barrier and face me, instead he cowers behind it, pushing his evil ransoms through the tiny gap. If it could just be a little bigger, i could get him, i could pull him through with all my strength and make him pay for what he has done.\n\nThe time passes, my nerves are taut, my heart pounds slower; i must rest, and regain my strength for mistress.\n\n--\n\nI am but a pup, new to my role as guardian; I am small, weak, my roar is laughable. But i am loved. Gifted to the master and mistress, they bestow upon me the great title of Shadow. I do not know the history, but I know i will work my hardest to prove worthy of such a powerful name. They train me, feed me, parade me to their loved ones; they are proud of me. I stand guard while they eat, i keep the castle safe while they sleep. I am a good boy.\n\nIn time the Mistress bore a child. when we met, i realised my purpose was not just to secure the castle; i was to protect the boy. he was small, like i once was, and he was weak. But he was loved. Loved by the Masters, Loved by me. I would Lay by his door every night, some nights he would cry, and i would snuffle to thick bars of his bed; he would feel my breath on his arm and reach out to me, he knew i would keep him safe.\n\nThen He Came.\n\nI did not understand at first. why was the mistress sad, had i let the pesky mice warriors slip past? she so feared the mice warriors, but i had made a pact with them; they were to stay away from the castle, and they had free reign of the outbuilding and chariot stable. The treaty had held for many moons. I was confused, she would hug me still.\n\nIt wasn't until i saw it happen, that i realised my follow. The master would check the great door and there would be the lehtars, i saw his anger rise as one came through, it must have been a ransom, i did not know who these doctors were, I went to him, and i tried to assure him they would not breach these walls. but he just went to the mistress.\n\nThen the boy became sick, they took him away many times, i do not know where, or for how many moons, i longed to be by their side, i knew all the smells out there, the dangers at left and right from so many sides. but they always returned. I was always so happy, i begged them for news of the world, but they had become so distant. so sad. \n\nHe kept returning, kept bringing with him his evil tidings, the master grew so angry, the mistress so sad, she would cry so often now, And the boy.. he smelled wrong, i tried to warn them, but they would not listen, they would send me away, keep me from him. I finally learned to hold my tongue, it was not my place to question the masters on their family. So i kept my silence, and would lay with the boy, as he grew weak.\n\nOne day He returned again, and i tried, i tried to surprise him, oh how he jumped away, but he knew he was safe, i could not damage the great door, no matter i would try. I could keep the castle safe. I kept watch, i stood guard, i even drove the mouse warriors away, just for the mistress. She liked to see me in the great courtyard, protecting the grounds. she would often sit and look out upon the kingdom, for much time staring judging it.. i hoped i was doing a good job. \n\nhe did not visit for a time, and the master and mistress became happier, they would take us all on journeys, and they would tell the boy the stories of all that he would do. we toured the great kingdom so many times. I kept my watch, keeping the other savages away from us. but they were so quiet at times. They still loved.\n\nUntil the last day. Once more he came to the door, was not ready, i was with the boy, and i reached the great door too late. The mistress had opened the Ransom, and dropped to her knees and cried. I ran to her, whispering snuffles of good cheer and omen to her, but she could not stop. She stay there for an eternity, I sat guard, in case He came again, until the master came through the great door. I warned him, shouted of the magic, dragged him to where she sat. He would know what to do.\n\nOne day they took the boy somewhere, and returned without him. We had lost. I had failed in my task. was unworthy of the guardianship. His great magic had somehow slipped past our defences, and now the boy was gone. The castle grew quiet, the mistress withdrawn, sitting always and just staring into the kingdom, searching for him.\n\nHe came again and again. I learned his pattern, i was ready every time, warning the Master and the Mistress, begging they stay away, i would bite at him, i would curse him, but i could do nothing. why would the master not let me go, i could save the Boy i knew it. if i could just kill the Man behind the door. I was chided for my arrogance. the Master would judge. he would open the spells, they would give him such rage, he would curse the Doctors, Curse the house, even the mistress. but the rage would always go.\n\nExcept... one day it did not go. One day the master came home, swaying as if dizzy. I ran to check on him, but he pushed me aside. He checked the door for another message, and there was a fresh one. Delivered that day. It was such a powerful spell. He must have been weak to its touch. \n\nHe was in a rage i had never seen, becoming demonous. his breath smelled of fire and his eyes were those of the underworld. His shouts were roars as he faced off against unseen foes. I guarded his flank. what if spirits were trying to get into him. what if the magic searched for the mistress? \n\noh no the mistress! \n\nshe would have heard the noise, would come down and be taken by these foul spirits. I shouted the master, begged, pleaded for him to find his strength and come to me. It was not enough, he batted me away with a strength i had never known possible. The mistress heard his roars and came to him, shouting and pulling at the demon begging him to release the Master, I knew it would not work\n\nI was too dazed to stop the first blow. It knocked the mistress backward to the stairs, and i found my strength, found the courage of my ancestors, This demon would come into MY castle? take MY master hostage? Not today. As he thudded over to the mistress i bounded through the air, my mighty roar would have woken the dead. i landed between them, stood my ground, This was the master, and yet it was not. i knew my job, and i uttered a low threat the likes of which would drive the strongest of warriors to drop their bladders. The demon wavered, I shouted to him to \"BE GONE\" The demon fell from masters eyes, and the master blinked tears of confusion and sorrow. \n\nhe reached for the mistress, I could not be sure this was a trick. but the mistress had regained her strength. She chided the master for being so foolish, for letting the demons inside. The master left the castle, and returned some days later.\n\nThe demons have not returned, the He still tries to bring them. The master has healed. The mistress tells me i am a good boy. I redeemed myself, but i cannot forget the failure i brought, and the pain of my mistakes. So i keep a watch, though i am old, and my bones ache. i save my strength every day for those few seconds, that He might know that I am here, I am watching him.\n\nHe took The boy, He almost took the Master. But I will not let him take us again.\n"
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Listening to my friend tell a story, and this sentence alone has so much potential. | [WP] This bathroom was not meant for three people and a medium-sized dog..." | 6 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"A customer just paid his bill without tipping. He told me its because \"there's no goddamn paper towells in the goddamn bathroom...\" or something like that.\nI hate this job. I'm a waiter at a 24 hour waffle bar. Tips are crap and the customers are worse.\nHe paid for his $2.49 double stack and left at 3:20AM. It was only me and the cook on duty. The cook, Hank, is an alright guy if you keep your distance. He keeps a pet rat in his pocket (which isn't really OSHA-approved, but not a lot is at the waffle bar). Hank and I don't really do the small talk thing. I'm pretty sure Hank started his shift drunk and is still a little tipsy. Thats kind of standard practice for 3rd shift at the waffle bar.\n\nI got out a roll of paper towells from the cabinet and get over to the bathroom so the next asshole doesn't have an excuse not to tip me.\nAs I cracked open the plastic dispenser to take out the old roll, a gentleman with a seeing eye dog comes into the bathroom. I mean gentleman, because he was actually wearing a suitcoat with cufflinks and all. He stops to say \"good evening.\" I say \"good morning.\" I'm not sure who was correct.\n\nAnyways, he lets me know that he's here traveling from Bristol, Connecticut to his nephew's hunting lodge in New Brunswick, which doesn't really explain why he's stopping in East-Nowhare to take a piss at a waffle bar or why a blind person would want to go hunting, but I'm rolling with it because he looks like he might tip. As he says this, I notice that the seeing eye dog is actually leading him towards the toillet. This dog is litterally nudging his master's thighs in the direction of the toilet with his nose.\n\nMid-piss, Hank kicks open the door with a slam and spews puke all over the floor. He makes it over to the sink with his hands covering his mouth and gets maybe 30% of his vomit into the sink. My blind gentleman guest doesn't even turn around. I'm almost done replacing the paper towel roll and getting out of here until Hank's rat falls out of his pocket, and the seeing eye dog goes beserk. I mean, like predatory rampage beserk. Before I can blink the rat gets turned into a pile of bloody fur shreds between the eye dog's teeth. \"There's a good boy\" says the gentleman to the dog. He turns towards me (thankfully with his pants zipped up) \"Pooch is not only my seeing eye dog, but also an excellent exterminator up at the lodge.\" I nod. He doesn't see.\n\nAs the bloodcrazed seeing eye dog bouces aroud the room with the rat-remains in his mouth and the blind gentleman straightens his coattails, I pat Hank on the back (who's almost done puking in the sink) and open my mouth to say \"Y'know, This bathroom was not meant for....\n",
"... But it was the only room in our house with no windows. The sirens had been going off and the radio said there was a tornado, but this didn't seem like a tornado. The wind was calm as ever as we squeezed around the toilet and tub. We had some snacks, flashlights, hand-crank chargers for our phones, and a radio. The radio stations had gone silent about half an hour ago, several hours into the \"tornado\" warning, which made me think even more so that this wasn't actually a tornado.\n\nMy mother, sister, and I were all crowded into this little bathroom with out German Shepherd, Bane, with my sister and the dog in the tub, and my mom sitting on the toilet. I was laying on the floor, scanning the radio trying to find a signal. Everything I've found so far was just static, on both AM and FM. I turned the dial super slowly this time, hoping I might pick up anything at all.\n\n\"Just give it up and turn it off,\" my sister complained, \"it's not like you're going to find anything. Everyone probably went home or is hiding themselves. There's nothing to worry about.\"\n\n\"She's probably right honey, besides, you're winding the batteries down.\" My mom was surprisingly calm right now, but then I realized she brought a bottle of wine with her, and that it was more than half gone. She hadn't been doing well since my dad left. Not like he was ever around to begin with, but when he finally left she kinda lost it.\n\n\"Yeah I know, but that's just not normal.\" I'm not even sure why I tried to argue with them. \"When have they ever stopped broadcasting the news on the radio, especially during a storm? It's just weird. What if there was a terrorist attack or something?\"\n\n\"Oh you know, you may be right!\" My sister was laying the sarcasm on thicker than anyone ever had before. \"Or it could be aliens, what if they killed everyone else but us! Hey, what if it's the zombie apocalypse. Or what if-\"\n\n\"Shut the fuck up!\" I thought I heard something on the radio, so I stood up and readjusted the antenna, slowly turning the dial back and forth.\n\n\"ZZzZzzZzzzzzzZzzzzZZZZZz-and then-zzzZZZzZZzzzzzzzZ-we need-ZZZZzzzzZzz-if anyone can hear-zzzzzZZZZzzzzZzzZZZ-please!\" The signal was faint, but I was picking up pieces. I hoped I could get the antenna pointed juuuust right and maybe.... \"If anyone can hear us, please help. We're stuck in our basement. Someone, or something, is outside. We can see them through our windows down here. They went into our barn and then in out house, we hear them walking around. They look life people but they're talking in some sort for language that doesn't sound human. We need help! We're at the farmhouse by the lake.\" The lady's voice was hushed and scared. It then cut to a autotronic voice that said the message would repeat.\n\nAt this point my sister was sufficiently freaked out. She stared at me in horror, mouth agape. My mom was on the verge of passing out and probably didn't hear any of it. I opened the door and walked out of the bathroom and Bane ran out.\n\n\"What are you doing stay in here!\" I looked at my sister like she was insane. \"What if that was real, what if there's something... out there?\"\n\n\"Just keep an eye on her,\" I nodded towards our mother, \"and I'll be right back.\"\n\nI walked out into the living room and looked out the windows. I knew there were no tornados, it looked like a beautiful day outside. I headed up to the front of the house and everything looked normal. Just then several big black trucks started pulling in our driveway. We live out in the country. The whole town was kind of out in the country. It was a 20 minute drive into town and nothing but farmland all around, so nearly everyone around here had guns. I pulled out my steamer trunk from my closet and pulled out my shotgun and two pistols, and grabbed several extra clips. I headed back to the bathroom and gave my sister a pistol and an extra clip and sent her to her room with my mom. I didn't know who - or what - these people were, but I was ready for them.\n\n(I usually just write as ideas come to mind, and this one took a different direction than I was thinking, so it ends a little weird, sorry about that.)"
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[WP] Rhyming words create random magic. Rap artists are the most powerful wizards. | 17 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Excerpt from a Time Magazine soft profile of Drake - March 2019\n\n**Drake:**\"... You know man, its hard trying to keep doing this rap stuff with all the random crap that keeps happening on stage.\"\n\n**Reporter:** \"You say 'Random Crap,' could you elaborate a bit for me.\"\n\n**Drake:** \"Yeah, you've seen the pictures. Like after one or two verses the stage could either be covered with fillet mignon or it could start raining blood over the audience.\"\n\n**Reporter:** \"Yet you've been able to keep yourself financially afloat despite the lack of recent performances.\"\n\n**Drake:** \"I gotta say, selling that extra meat from the fillet mignon show brought me a cool $200k.\"\n\n**Reporter:** \"Well done (pun intended), so do you see yourself moving into the sorcery business?\"\n\n**Drake:** \"No, I'm trying to stay true to my fans and to keep putting out music the way I used _to_. Just the thing is that I gotta keep from rhyming to keep doing what I _do_.\"\n\n*Editor's note, upon rhyming \"_do_\" with \"_to_\", the Reporter's chair turned into pistachio pudding.*\n\n**Reporter:** \"Wow, thats quite the feat.\" *Wiping green goo off of his pants as she stands* \"Do you have any control of the kind of magic that you produce?\"\n\n**Drake:** \"Sorry about that, and no. Whatever happens just sort of happens. All I know is that its for some reason there's a lot stronger effect when I rhyme than when someone else does.\"\n\n**Reporter:** \"I can see how that makes transitioning to the magic industry difficult.\"\n\n**Drake:** \"Actually no it would be kind of _easy_. I've gotten offers from several governments, but the thought of working for the man makes me kind of _queasy_.\"\n\n*Editor's note. This time the rhyme caused the reporter to burst into flames (pistachio pudding and all). Since the incident Drake has taken a vow of silence and the interview was cancled. *"
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[WP] You run an orphanage for children with... special talents. Tell a story of your first, or last day. | 18 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"You have no idea what you are doing do you.\"\n\nIt wasn't a question. It was an eye roll. It was a statement of reality. She was eleven, a street kid, whatever that means. Her hoodie sleeves would have hung twice as long as her arms if they weren't scrunched up at her wrists. Angelica fiddled with the blade of grass in her hand, never looking up to make eye contact. \n\nWe sat on a patch of green, surrounded by black and brown and grey. Smoke lazily hovered over the ashes. I saw what she had done, not in a fit of red hot rage, but in a cold smolder. \n\nHer parents thought she was a demon. \n\nShe was transplanted from inner city LA to my secluded estate in Oregon. I don't have much experience leading, or even interacting with people in general but when I look at the cold, dark hunger in her eyes and wonder if she will ever trust a human being again. I wonder if I am the first person to look at her and see a person.",
"I'll tell you the story of my first day as a volunteer at the Orphanage for Special Children. By the name, I thought it was **that** kind of special. But, when I met the kids, I learnt why the orphanage had that name. \nThe first kid I met was called Kevin. He lacked hair and had scales all over the skin. He showed to have a chameleon-like tongue when catching a fly mid-air when he was crawling on a wall. \nThe second kid was called Heather. She was wearing fire-proof clothing. When I lowered to her height to shake her hand, she kept herself away from me, saying that \"she burns everything she touches\". Heather grabbed a piece of paper and it combusted immediately.\nHeather was always with Natalia, a similar girl with ice-cold breath. Natalia seems to be Heather's sister, and was able to hold her hand without problems. \nThe fourth kid is called Eric. He was a bright boy. His body, except for the eyes, was constantly emitting light. I wonder how he sleeps. \nOther kids that are met are Katherine, the girl with rabbit ears (she hid them with a hood); Johnny, a boy with gills and webbed hands; Trinity, a paralyzed girl with psychic powers; among others. \nThe day, otherwise, was normal: cleaning the places, preparing their lunch, playing with them, squirting water on Johnny's skin... Then, the bald guy on the wheelchair came. He was interested on the kids, claiming he could help them with their special talents.",
"*The Westerland Home for Special Children*, the sign said, arching over the stone gateway. It wasn't a dark place, as far as these places go, open fields, not ominous trees.\n\n\"Hello?\" I called, reaching out to the heavy gate. \"I'm here about the job.\" Before I could touch the gate, an old, rather stooped man - the gatekeeper, I later learned - shambled out, waving me back.\n\n\"Oh, no, sir, don't touch it.\" He thrust a rubber-wrapped key into the keyhole. \"Electrified, you know,\" he said, gesturing me inside. \"The students... nothing but trouble if they get out.\"\n\nI nodded in understanding. \"So who will I be talking to about the job?\" I gazed at the low buildings of the school.\n\n\"The principal.. down the hallway on the right, if I recall correctly. Third door.\" He started back to the gatehouse, then turned as a boy ran for the front door. \"Pigsley here can show you the way. He knows it well enough.\"\n\nPigsley, a stout boy in the seventh grade, stopped in his tracks. \"Yes, sir.\" He waved for me to follow him. As I did so, I took a good look at him. He reminded me of myself at that age. He looked... normal.\n\n\"Headmaster Wren?\" I asked, reading the sign on the door.\n\n\"Come in, come in,\" a feminine voice said. \"Don't mind the sign, hasn't been changed in years.\" I entered.\n\n\"The paper said you needed someone to work with children who have... special talents. I've got experience with them.\" \n\n\"Of course,\" said the speaker, a large woman behind an even larger desk. \"I'm Principal Herman. You would be Mr. Smith?\"\n\n\"Ah, yes,\" I said, embarrassed at my rudeness. \"Sorry.\"\n\n\"Tell me about your experience.\"\n\n\"I've worked with various kinds of troubled students - telepaths, telekinetics, mostly that sort.\"\n\n\"Ah... Mr. Smith, there seems to have been a misunderstanding. The Westerland children are, for the most part, normal. Their talents are along the lines of... let's see...\" she picked up a yellow paper and adjusted her spectacles. \"Room One - housebreaking. Room Two - carjacking. Room Three - assault. Four through Six, pickpockets and petty theives. Oh, and Pigsley, who you've already met. Manslaughter, self defence.\" I gaped in shock.\n\n\"But they seem so normal,\" I cried, sinking into an empty chair. \"And so young!\"\n\n\"That's why they're here. Westerland is a children's correction facility. We pride ourselves in fifty years of success in healthy, happy, and rehabilitated children.\" Principal Herman smiled proudly. \"When you say our children are normal, it's the best compliment you can give us.\"\n\nThe job wasn't what I was expecting. I was accustomed to a different, less violent kind of special. But even on that first day, when I met the boys, I knew that this was where I belonged. \n\nIt was Pigsley that convinced me to stay. Principal Herman had assured me that he was the furthest thing from violent, and would gladly tell me his story if I asked.\n\nIt was a tale that revealed itself in all the boys, a tale as old as poverty itself. An abusive home life, rough friends, trouble in school. Some boys as young as nine were drug addicts - some younger, Pigsley told me, but not here. Violence seeping into every facet of their lives, coercion and threats on a daily basis.\n\n\"It's not the boys that are the problem,\" Principal Herman told me, \"It's the environment they're raised in. They'd be good boys if they had good parents.\"\n\nI was familiar with the self-blame and violent outbursts. These students were less likely to spontaneously burst into flames or tattle on the other kids' thoughts, but were equally unpredictable.\n\n\"I'll take the job, Principal Herman,\" I said finally.\n\n\"Thank you,\" she said, with a wide smile that I would come to associate with this place and with the boys I taught. \"I'm sure you've seen how much we need help.\" But I didn't see them needing help. What I saw was a group of people with the biggest hearts in the world, and boys who would grow into good young men."
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[removed] | [WP]Write a story about a brutal war, horrific ethnic cleansing or a totalitarian dictatorship based off the smallest or pettiest thing imaginable. | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nWhile it doesn't seem to be your intent, the mods reserve the right to remove anything we feel may become harmful to the community. 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/6gpy9t/wpwrite_a_story_about_a_brutal_war_horrific/%0A%0A)\n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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I met my SO through ebay (true story) ppl ask all the time and dont take the answer seriously or ask what i bid. Just would like a different spin on things. Cheers | [WP] Write me the story of how you met your SO by embellishing the lil details so it becomes a tale of epic proporitions | 42 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"3 down, 2 more to go, swing low, be precise, no power all speed and efficiency of motion. You got this, whatever you do don't drop and maybe you'll get home in time to catch the end of Bold and the Beautiful\" i thought to mysef as i super glued an arterial wound shut. \"How'd you manage to get.yourself here?\" I remembered the last 6yrs of guarded self inflicted solitary and the constant need of space, disgusted at what id become, a vicious circle indeed. In a room full of ppl id always feel alone. Bear with me. We'll get there in the end. You, me and a world we chose regardless\n\nI had music, all music. Itd whisper to me to calm me and scream at me when i needed to move. I also had an ideal, a hope, a vision and dream of love wrapped in tragedy called The Crow. Which is how i found myself here. New to most technological advances bar typing in \"xvideos\" into my address bar i was stumped. I needed money and fast. Im good with my hands, balanced, dont mind the sight and scent of blood, do whats natural, do what you do best big fella and knit jumpers for refugee orphans with Dermatis. All i needed was $13.85. Id spotted a Crow book on ebay the week previous. I had the same book when i was 17 but in the wisdom of youth i tore that bad boi up to use the pictures as a collage of teen angst on my bedroom wall. I'd message the seller in the hope of either having it held or knocking the price down so i could spoil myself and get a $1 frozen Grape drink and a quick Rub n Tug at Burger King. Nope. She was firm. She knew she had a sale and i'd do anything to get my hands on it. Even in hindsight i admired her strength.\n\nSo here i was bleeding for a cause and an inner dialogue even the Gilmore Girls on Meth would have trouble keeping up with. I was here to neither help nor hinder these poor lil fucktards. I wanted that book. Working 28hr a day shifts. 9 days a week just like my dad did back in the day. Walking in the snow with no shoes to work in middle of summer. Up hill all the way there. Up hill all the way back. I was on my 10,000,000,000.008th jumper when the 5 Ninja with Rabies raised by a pack of Wolves caught wind of my exploits. And like anything windy. Follow the scent and you'll find what smells like your man eventually. Despatching them was easy. I had a childhood of Van Damme movies, countless hours of Youtube watching UFC and Self taught Armbar techniques, knowing full well if push came to shove.... i'd murder anyone that opposed me (just for the record. My artery cut from earlier, that was from shaving with a rusted out Mustang Fender i found prospecting for Admantium in the floods of Africa)\n\nI placed my bid and waited. Years passed. Then decades. Then centuries. But i was patient. My love of procrastinating has taught me this. The early bird may get the worm. But the the 2nd mouse gets the cheese. I was chilling at my pad just lazing about when the notification came through that i successfully bought the elusive book. I gave it bout a minute and a half before i messaged her to thank her, because as we all know, women love a man who plays hard to get rid of. As i sent the message off. I recieved one from her in return. It was the typical stuff im used to. \"Geez you have buff arms, heyyyy, give me back my purse\" that sort of thing. We start messaging back and forth. The content of which if i had a decent phone at the time with more than a .0004 mexapixel camera and better zoom. Would of been a dick pic. But i digress. Numbers were exchanged and through the hands of fate stories of similarity were told. I called her. No word of a lie. Any pre conceptions i had in life were thrown away in an instant. The laughs we had!!! ( and still do) we talked for hours. I spoke more to her in an hour than i did to everyone in 6 years combined, Beyond community service and my parole officer that is. \n\nThis is where facts become stranger than fiction. We're both from a city called Perth. We both left Perth the same time to a city called Melbourne on the other side.of the country. I moved back to Perth. Was here roughly 7 months before i bought the book. She was selling the book as not having it to.pack...... cause she was moving back to Perth. Make sense? Of course not. But hey. You've come this far may as well read on and hope for the best.\n\nPrt 2 coming soon\n",
"I strut through the halls of the institution, searching for my victim. My shining blue eyes clash with my gold liner and green hair. I feel a fire burning in me. I know he has broken my dark little fairy's heart, and I intend to make him pay. I had seen his pictures, and I know that when I see him he will be beautiful. With a sweet smile on my face I waltz past him, waiting for him to turn the corner. I catch up and tap this larger than life lion man on his broad, hunched shoulder. He turns toward me with a shaking lip and a magnificent smile. In his eyes and features I see surprise, fear, lust, and an already blooming flower of love. Our encounter is soon over after a short and distant conversation, and my darling begins to walk away. \"A year of waiting to meet and you dont even hug me?\" My voice is seductive and deep for a lady, it draws everyone to me. He turns back and wraps his arms around my tall and slender frame. I breathe in his warm scent and he smells like an antique store. His embrace is quick but it leaves me feeling like a fire was in my heart for a reason other than this petty revenge plot for the fairy friend. As we part, I look down at his shoes. Converse, with \"improv salesman\" written on the toes. I know this boy will be mine.",
"It was the daringest solo climb I’d ever attempted. Called Hell’s Middle Finger, it was a sandstone spire rising 1,400 feet above the Colorado River, sheer for the top two thirds of its height. Luckily for me, until midmorning when the temperature had passed 100 degrees, the shadow of the adjoining Hell’s Index Finger gave me some relief. Finally I moved out of the shadow as the sun overtopped the neighboring summit. I kept my eyes on the rock surface in front of me while my eyes adjusted to the glare. Oddly, the shadow seemed to be moving. Was someone up there? I couldn’t see, looking right into the sun, but I turned and waved. I thought I heard a voice – a woman’s? I nearly lost my grip and turned back to grasp my SLCD. I dropped back down into the shadow so I could see – there was definitely a woman silhouetted on the summit of the Index Finger!\n\n“Do you need help?” I hollered as loudly as I could. \n\nI think I heard, “Yes, I’m stranded! Or maybe “I’m starving!” At any rate she was waving desperately.\n\nWhat to do? I was more than halfway up and I’d been really counting on making this climb. And I wasn’t even positive she was in trouble. But I’m a gallant soul and I didn’t really hesitate. “I’m coming!” I hollered to the waving silhouette. I set a personal record for rappelling down Middle Finger to the saddle, then set about scoping out a route up the Index Finger. As I recall it had only been summited six times. I tried to find some data on my smartphone, but predictably there was no reception out here. The sight of three vultures circling above the Index spurred me into action regardless. \n\nI’ve never climbed so recklessly, or so skillfully! I realized that for the first time I was in the Mountaineers’ Zone where all the skills of generations of climbers flowed into me from a different dimension. I felt I was being prodded on upward by fate. Who was this woman? Was she tied to my future? Just a hundred feet below the top I had to cross a crevasse. I knew I could never jump it, but I could see the woman now. And I could hear her say “Don’t! It’s too far!” But I leapt across, throwing an anchor rope across and it caught as I slammed into the rock face. Ignoring the pain, I pulled myself up onto the ledge. The last hundred feet seemed easy.\n\nShe looked desperate, thin and sunburned and crying – but she was astonishingly beautiful! “So glad you came!” she said, “I can’t believe you made that trip in less than an hour!”\n\n“How did you get here?” I asked. She had no climbing equipment whatsoever!\n\n“I was kidnapped! They dropped me here from a helicopter with only a water bottle. That was two days ago!”\n\n“You must be starving. Here,” and I gave her a drink of my water and a good portion of the tasty picnic lunch I’d planned to celebrate with atop the Middle Finger. She ate ravenously, but shared it with me with looks of gratitude. Her name was Chandra. We got acquainted with a little small talk, but both were worrying about the trip down. \n\nI took extra care rigging the ropes for the descent. I hoisted her onto my back and bound us together with extra lashes. This was going to be the ultimate challenge to my strength, but I got an extra measure of energy and confidence from the warmth and softness of her body pressed close to mine.\n\nI’ll spare you the technical details of that nerve-wracking descent, but I was more and more impressed by the composure of this woman and she showed no signs of fear, constantly whispering words of encouragement in my ear. Finally we reached the base of the pinnacle; I knew that just the other side of a big red boulder there was an easy trail that would take us to my car.\n\nZing! That was a ricochet of a bullet, if I’ve ever heard one (in countless westerns)! We pressed ourselves back behind the boulder. “They must have left someone to watch me!” Chandra wailed, showing the first sign of discomposure. I peeked carefully above the rock and saw a burly man with a semi-automatic, only a hundred feet away. I ducked as he unleased another shot just over my head. \n\n“Send the woman out! We won’t hurt her. I know you’re unarmed, and this isn’t your business. Once I have her, you can go.” \n\n‘What’s this all about?” I asked her, determined to help her whatever the reason.\n\n“They’re going to force me to marry my uncle’s boss! My uncle was trying to raise money to buy them off, but it wasn’t enough. They left me up there to try to weaken my resolve. But what can we do?”\n\n“He’s sure we have no weapon. But I’m a climber. I’m not without resources!”\n\nI heard the ugly man’s footsteps drawing closer. I pulled out a 6-foot bungee cord and a steel spike. Rigging the cord like a slingshot with the spike between my feet, I found a 2-inch rock and waited.\n\nZap! Right between the eyes! Chandra was all over him with a generous selection of my ropes, but he was unconscious. Would be for quite a while I’m sure. We left him half the contents of my water bottle in a dirty plastic bag. Looking about cautiously to make sure no one else was around, we started down the trail. Soon we entered the cool shade of woods, and found ourselves walking along a babbling brook. \n\n“You’re amazing, Chandra! So brave and smart, and beautiful too.”\n\n“You’re even more amazing! How can I ever thank you?”\n\n“Well, if you’re sufficiently recovered, there’s an opera in the city tomorrow night. I’d love for you to accompany me.”\n\n“You got yourself a date!”\n\nThis is a true story. Except although we did meet on a 1,400-foot-high peak, it was a gently rounded hill in the Hudson Highlands. We actually shared the picnic with her aunt and uncle. I made up the part about the kidnapping. I did offer to carry her down on my back, since her shoes didn’t fit and she was getting a blister. She declined, thinking it improper for a first date.\n"
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[deleted] | [WP] A day in the life of someone with a mental illness, told through the emotions of Inside Out. | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Sadness was sick of this shit. All the other emotions had left. All the Core Memories were reminders of times long past. She decided it was best just to end it all. Hopefully the others are wherever I'm going...",
"\"Alright guys let's have ourselves a great day!\" \nSaid joy emerging from upper level room and sliding down the railing, Into the large control room. The familiar racks upon the wall that joy loved so much sparkled as the overhead lights flickered awake. \n\"A great day? In high school?\" \nsadness began, but she didn't get a chance to answer her rhetorical question. As anger let out a howl.\n\"HIGH SCHOOL IS THE BEST TIME IN OUR LIFE! YOU BETTER KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF THE CONTROLLER TODAY. ILL NOT TOLERATE ANOHER OF WHAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY!\"\nAngers' red face looked like it was ready to explode. As he glared down at sadness who, much like fear, was recoiling quietly towards her chair. Then the new guy spoke up.\n\"Yeah, cuz yelling at her is gonna make everyone feel better.\" \nThis slim new character wore specticals, and was barely half as tall as anger, who previously had been the shortest.\nDisgust with her normal lip curled look on her face took her chair at the control table. And said with a characteristic sort of disgust.\n\"...hey new guy didn't you say your name was logic? Your name probably should be sarcasm.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah, we all follow our names perfectly.\" He said quickly, not realizing that he was only proving her point.\n\nThey all took their seats quickly as the eyes snapped open. To everyone's surprise it wasn't the ceiling of their bedroom they were staring at, it was the face of the principal. They were already at school, and in a conversation. \n\n\"... just tell us your side of the story.\" He was saying.\nThe group now noted that the secretary, and vice principal was there too. They were in the principals office.\n\n\"Nobody panic,\" said joy, \"we'll work through this.\" \n\nSorry if this sucks first try, and I only had 20 mins! "
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"1497284048",
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[WP] An armed robber demands to speak to the manager after dealing with a rather difficult cashier | 183 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"You what? YOU WHAT?!\", I said to the cashier. Is this actually happening?\n\n\"Sir\", she said in a monotonous voice, her face surprisingly calm under the circumstances, \"I can give you the cash, but these Mentos are limited edition. We aren't allowed to give them without proper payment. And only one per client.\"\n\n\"Do you realize I have a GUN?! I CAN BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT.\"\n\n\"Sir. I can give you the money, but these Mentos are ....\", she continued repeating, apathetic to the gun I'm flailing around as a can of Pringles.\n\n\"You... you're serious?\"\n\nIt's hard to admit, but I'm in shock. I mean, this is a little store in the middle of nowhere, and this girl is perfectly willing to give me the money in the register, but not the limited edition Mentos? *Really?*\n\nSure, you could argue that I'm as much of an idiot for insisting on getting the Mentos too, but come on, it's a matter of respect. Not to me, but to the Beretta gun I have in my right hand. It's loaded. The safety is off. And this girl is chewing gum and looking at me like I'm the most boring person on Earth.\n\n\"Look, let's make this easy, lady. You give me the money, AND the Mentos, and no one gets hurt. You're lucky there's no one else here, or I would have shot you already. Now hurry up!\"\n\n\"Sir. I can give you the cash, but -\"\n\n\"NO, NO, NO. I WANT THOSE MENTOS, YOU HEAR? THE M.E.N.T.O.S.\"\n\n\"But sir, these are limited edition. We aren't allowed to -\"\n\n\"WHY DO YOU KEEP SAYING THAT. AHHHHH!\"\n\n\"Sir, I can offer you some complimentary mints with your order, if you want. But not the Mentos.\"\n\nI cover my face with my hands. Maybe she's mentally ill. God, maybe I am.\n\n\"NO, I WAN- No. I want those Mentos. Please. I'm asking you properly now.\"\n\n\"Sir, I can give you the ca-\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, you can give me the cash, but not the 'limited edition Mentos'. I get it, Jesus.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nI think for a minute. \n\n\"What if...\", I say, mostly to myself. I have an idea.\n\n\"Okay,\", I squint at the name tag on her shirt, \"Linda. I want you to give me the money. Only the money.\"\n\n\"Sure. Our policy is that, in case of robbery, to give out our money without resistance.\"\n\n\"Yeah, whatever. Hand it over, come on.\"\n\nShe takes out the cash methodically and gives it to me in a plastic bag. Quick and efficient.\n\nI smirk and take a ten dollar bill from the bag.\n\n\"I'd like some LIMITED EDITION MENTOS! ...Please?\"\n\nShe takes the bill and hands me one packet of Mentos. They probably suck, but who cares, I got them. I proved my point. What point? Doesn't matter.\n\n----\n\nI try one of the Mentos - It sucks, obviously.\n\nIn any case, I realize I've spent way too long here, though no sign of police so far. Good.\n\nAnd yet, just like that, sirens blast outside. I turn to leave, and start running towards the door when I hear her again.\n\n\"Sir, your change.\"\n\nI feel compelled to shoot her only because of how annoying she is, but I need to get out.\n\n...But the door isn't opening. It's one of those sliding doors, but why... \n\nOh.\n\n\"LINDA OPEN THE DOOR QUICKLY\"\n\n\"Sir, your change\" \n\n\"LINDA FOR GOD'S SAKE WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME\"\n\n\"You forgot your change, sir.\"\n\nSuddenly, a kick from the back of the store is heard, and policemen rush in, telling me to drop to the floor.\n\n\"GOD DAMMIT IT LINDA GOD DAMMIT WHY\"\n\n\"DROP THE GUN! HANDS IN THE AIR!\", yells one one of the policemen, \"ON THE FLOOR NOW!\"\n\n\"Sir, your change.\"\n\n\"GOD DAMN YOU LINDA, GOD DAMN YOU AND THOSE STUPID MENTOS\"\n\n----\n\nMore stories: [/r/TitanStories](https://www.reddit.com/r/TitanStories) - [Titan Stories](https://stories.titan.red/) - [Newsletter](https://tinyletter.com/titanred)"
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1,
108
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"1497292710",
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[removed] | [WP] You are the interstellar mailman. (Inspired by research paper due tomorrow) | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi there, this post has been removed.\n\nHomework assignments are not allowed. Use /r/HomeworkHelp instead. \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/6gx324/wp_you_are_the_interstellar_mailman_inspired_by/%0A%0A)\n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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[WP] After years of searching, you have found an ancient temple that is said to hold the meaning of life. But when you enter, all you find is a note with a phone number labeled "Call For a Good Time". | 11 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I stood staring, a blank expression soon replaced with one of anger, fury, rage. I screamed and threw my GPS against the wall. All this time. All the money. All that I had sacrificed to be here. To find out the truth, the answer. The only answer that mattered and this is what I was privy to, common graffiti? “God Dammit”, I yelled to the heavens and fell to my knees. \n\nAfter a minute just kneeling there I looked around again, maybe this person left something behind. Some clue, just something to make this trip worthwhile. Nothing. Just sandstone blocks and red spray paint. I ran my hand across my face, drawing the tears away. I tried to compose myself and slowly pulled myself to my feet. I’d have to call James, he wasn’t going to like this, not one bit. If I had made sacrifices then he had given up everything for this one chance, the chance that I had pressured him was the one.\n\nI pulled out my phone. A series of cracks riddled its screen, seemed quite fitting for the failure that I had become. I started to type in James’ number when my eyes fell back to that red paint. Curiosity suddenly snapped at me like a rabid dog, if this temple held the secret of life. Perhaps whoever left this note would know something about it. I had a shot, a slim shot judging from the type of person who would leave this graffiti in such a sacred place. But hey, it was a shot. I punched in the numbers.\n\nImmediately I was taken aback, this was not my normal dial tone. Instead I was greeted with a dull tone. Great, I thought, it’s a disconnected number. There goes my one shot. The phone automatically hung up. I checked it again, I definitely had signal. Anger again, I flung the phone. It landed with a soft thud in the sand. I fell to the floor and sat in the sand, looking up at the walls. \n\nRegaining my composure once more, I crawled to my phone and began to ring James. That’s when it caught my eye, that crimson paint. That graffiti. I dropped the phone again, my eyes and mouth wide in awe. For there, where a looters disrespect had been was a new message. “Your life is what you make of it”. \n\nGod dammit.\n"
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"1497358327",
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[WP] Your SO tells you to close your eyes, when you open them you are someone else, somewhere else. | 11 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"She looked at me, tears falling down her face. Her seashell necklace glinted in the faint light. \"You can't die. Not here, not now.\"\n\nI tried to hug her, but I couldn't get up from the pain. I had a grave wound on my side and lost too much blood. I tried to speak, but she kissed me gently before I could say a word. \n\n\"I love you, and I will do the only thing I have power left to do. Always... always remember me.\"\n\nShe started whispering words I did not recognize. I looked up to see the orc come into view, raising its axe above her head. I started panicking and signaled for her to look up.\n\n\"It'll be okay. Close your eyes, love.\"\n\nI saw the orc bring the blade down, just as she covered my eyes with her hand. I wanted to scream, but felt my consciousness slipping away...\n\n---\n\nShe laid in the grass, basking in the sunlight. It was warm here, very warm.\n\n\"Delilah? Are you there?\" His strong voice echoed in the forest. She couldn't stay here forever. She needed to get back.\n\n\"I'm here, John,\" she answered, getting up and walking toward the man. He kissed her, and they made for the village together. \n\nHer seashell necklace glinted in the faint light."
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"1497363316",
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[WP] You are immortal in body, but your mind has aged beyond recovery and you now have Alzheimers. To you, every day is a new adventure, but to everyone else, you're a fickle and unpredictable deity. | 588 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"“This is Huetz, I’m writing this to myself because I’ve noticed” – The writing was suspended when a strong noise came from outside the cave. The creature got on his feet in less than a second, his fist was no longer grasping the pen but a sharp sword. From the shadows, a mid-twenties man showed.\n\n“Mr. H! You’re awake”\n\n“Why are you disturbing my peace?”\n\n“Oh come on, leave the sword and grab your staff, we’re going to be late”\n\nConfused, Huetz dropped the sword and headed to the cave’s exit, while he was walking, he examined the young face in front of him. Huetz didn’t remembered the name, but he was sure that this young human has being nice to him for a long time. When he finally arrived to the cave’s mouth the sunlight struck his pupils and triggered a flashback.\n\n-The fire was reflecting everywhere creating an orange horizon, the sky was covered by iron arrows, and black smoke swirled all around. The trumpets sounded loud and proudly, Huetz was flying through the hostile field, the arrows where like rain drops landing on his coated skin, every gray soldier cheered up and fought harder when he was around. Huetz finally landed on his knees in front of a dying warrior, he took his gray armor off and put his hands on the victim’s chest, the wound began to close-\n\n“Mr. H!, come on, we’re going to be late!” – Said the young man handing him a wooden staff – “Well at least you’re day dreaming again sir, and what is that paper for?”\n\nHuetz was still holding his unfinished diary first entry, he wanted to write about the flashback, but this energetic young man was really pushy to take him wherever they were heading.\n\n“I didn’t knew where to look for you Mr. H, until I remembered that story you told me the other day about how humid places helps your mind to stay calm and all that”\n\n“Mind your step”\n\n“Sure Mr. H, even if we’re walking on a flat field” – The young man said sounding his head – “Anyways, this barbers have been all around the globe and they’re known to cure mind diseases, they call themselves physicians Mr. H, and I have a really good hunch this time”\n\nAs they got closer to the town, the people recognized the unique resemblance of their legendary icon and the cheers and chants started over the streets. Gray banners and flags were proudly flying.\n\nLooking at the multitude, Huetz got nervous and hid the paper. When he introduced his hand into his pocket he felt a few more sheets, he managed to unfold them finding exactly the same scripture “This is Huetz, I’m writing this to myself because I’ve noticed…”",
"Today was a rotten day. The cheery nurse beside me said otherwise, but it was rude, awakening. It was an \"in your face\" day, one like the other day. It was a corpse on a bus ride, it was an mouse turd in your rice bowl, it was a splinter in your toe day. \n\n\nIt was just like yesterday. That was pretty terrible. Terrible? \n\n\n\"Gerry, it's time for you to be walking now, let's get up.\"\n\nI pulled the trousers in with ease, buttoned up my shirt as I always did? I figured that red would impress Lilian, the old tart down the street, but the nurse said I couldn't. Damn that nurse. \n\n\nWalking outside was pleasant, reminded me something of the day that I fell in love with Taylor. Or was it Tanya? Anyways, we were passing Lilian when my nurse told me something else. \"It's my daughters birthday today.\"\n\n\n\"I have a granddaughter that's also turning another year pretty soon. What a coincidence!\" I chuckled. Such small things in life.\n\n\nThe nurse paused. \"You remembered!\" Her face was bright with happiness.\n\n\nI frowned, furrowing my brows. She stopped clapping for a moment. \"Oh don't worry Gerry, you'll keep it up. I'm just glad you remembered something!\" Taking my arm, she held my fingers.\n\n\nThe nurse. Lilian? My granddaughter's name is Lilian. \"Lilian's birthday?\" \n\n\nMy daughter nodded, bringing me back to the home. I shivered with fear. Everything felt cold.\n\n\nIt was a rotten day.",
"\"I don't understand,\" the acolyte complained. \"If the God cannot form new memories, how does he continue to function? Surely the needs of the world change over time.\" \n\n\"The God cannot form new *long term* memories,\" the Master reprimanded, thwacking her student on the head with her cane. \"Come with me and watch, and perhaps this time you will actually see.\"\n\nThe two passed up the temple's steps, work with grooves where the feet of a thousand thousand Masters and acolytes before them had walked, and through the great center arch verdant with most. As they drew closer to the inner sanctum, the power of the God became thicker, and the life around them became more vibrant. The Master's bent back straightened a touch, and she leaned less heavily on her cane, smelling the familiar smell of the air around the God that was filled with the breath of life. \n\nIt was the acolyte's third time seeing the God in person. He looked the same as ever, a young man of unnatural beauty, with dark hair and green eyes. He was meditating on a stone besides the creek that flowed through the temple, same as always. The God wore little clothing, only a loincloth that was starting to look worn out. \n\n\"Looks like you'll need a new undergarment soon, O God,\" the Master said. \n\nThe acolyte was somewhat scandalized but wisely held his tongue. \n\nSlowly the God opened his eyes, and a smile formed on his face, radiant as the dawn. The acolyte didn't notice, but a small cut on his thumb immediately healed itself. \n\n\"Ah, the Temple Master. Remind me, which are you?\"\n\n\"The ten thousandth Master of the second lineage, O God. Sad to say, the next Master is here to meet you and learn something, hopefully before I die.\"\n\nThe God and Master chuckled together as the Acolyte blushed. \n\n\"Go on, ask him yourself. I know you want to,\" the Master ordered, tapping her foot impatiently.\n\nThe Acolyte gathered his words carefully. \"O God, if you can no longer remember, how do you continue to protect the world? How do you remember what to do?\"\n\nThe God's smile takes on a tinge of sadness. \"That is all I remember. Lost to me are who I am, how I got here, how the world got to the state that it needs my constant effort to sustain its life. The true nature of my power, and why I am the way I am. All I know is that the Temple Masters keep my memories for me, and that I keep the World. I imagine I used to ask after my lost memories, but today, I can't remember a single thing except that I am the God who must maintain the world, and you are the temple keepers. I am clever enough to figure out that this means I will remember nothing new. Not you, not whatever I ask you. Am I cursed? Perhaps, but it is good enough here. I am fine with this moment, and if the next comes the same, so will I remain here. For all time, if I must.\" With that, the God closes his eyes and resumes a quiet meditation. \n\nThe acolyte's eyes fill with tears as he walks away beside the Master. \"He really doesn't know... if only we could tell him, and he could remember all that he has done for us!\"\n\nThe Master sighs. \"I felt the same when I was your age. I told him his story over and over, hoping something would stick. How three ages ago he was born the Chosen One, destined to overthrow the Thousand Year Darkness. How his companions fell around him, how in the end he slew the Tyrant and stole his Heart. How he poured his life's power over the world to heal it, to make the world grow green once more. And how as his mind began to fade, he established our Order to look over him, as he dedicated his eternity to humanity, and himself to our care. That is why we must protect him, for he is innocent as a child, selfless as a mother, and mighty as a God.\"\n\nThe acolyte vowed that as the ten thousand and first Master, he would protect the God with all his strength.",
"\"What's this?\" the old man asked. He eyed the mug of dark liquid suspiciously.\n\n\"It's called coffee, Gramps,\" the kid said.\n\n\"Never heard of it,\" the old man said. \"Where the Hell is my mead, boy?\"\n\nThe kid sighed. \"Just try it, Gramps, please. I know you'll like it.\"\n\nThe old man took a cautious, tentative sip, and then his eyes brightened and he smacked his lips appreciatively. \"This is good stuff. Fit for a God.\" He chuckled, and downed the rest of the mug in a single gulp.\n\nThe kid smiled politely, as if it wasn't the first time he'd heard that line. \"Carefully now, Gramps...\"\n\nBut the old man slammed the empty mug down on the table with a force that shook the room, and the kid winced. \"Bring me another mug of this nectar, boy. It makes me feel alive.\"\n\n\"Right-oh, Gramps.\"\n\n\"And where's that mother of yours?\"\n\n\"She, er, she just popped out to the shop,\" the kid said.\n\nBut the old man caught the hesitation, and his cloudy blue eyes cleared and fixed the kid with an electric gaze. \"Don't lie to me, boy,\" he said softly. \"Where'd she go?\"\n\n\"She'll be back soon,\" the kid said. He took a step backwards towards the kitchen. \"I'll just grab you that coffee-\"\n\nThe old man waved his hand, and froze the kid in mid-step. Only the boy's eyes were able to move, and they darted nervously towards the door. The old man struggled out of his armchair, and hobbled over to the kid. As he walked, he made heavy use of a cane, and his breath came out in a rattle. He touched a mottled hand to the kid's brow, and his face took on a distant look.\n\nThe old man's mouth began to twitch, quietly muttering words under his breath. \"You're my grandson... you look after me because I'm ill... no, no, that can't be right. Tell me about your mother, the Goddess... ah, there she is... wait-\"\n\nThe wheezing breaths became louder and more agitated. \"What is she doing... NO!\"\n\nThe old man staggered back. Whatever force had frozen the kid was released, and the boy jumped forwards to steady the old man. \"It's OK, Gramps. Here, let me help you back to your chair. There you go.\"\n\n\"My daughter,\" the old man said. \"My kingdom. My throne. She stole it...\" A note of anger had crept into his voice, and sparks began to crackle in the air around him. \n\n\"No, no,\" the boy said quickly. \"Ma's just looking after it for you. Just until you get better, Gramps. We all want you back.\"\n\n\"Am I getting better?\" the old man said. \n\n\"Oh, yes,\" the kid said. \"Definitely. Here, turn the TV on and I'll fetch another coffee for you.\"\n\nThe news flashed onto the TV screen, the volume several notches too loud. The breaking news banner at the bottom of the screen announced that a huge earthquake had struck the west coast just a few minutes earlier, and a weatherman was discussing the unexpected buildup of a thunderstorm of unusual strength over the midwest.\n\nThe kid came back with a steaming mug, and placed it down next to the old man. \"Here you go, Gramps.\"\n\nThe old man eyed the dark liquid suspiciously. \"What's this?\" he asked.\n\n---\n\n*Find more of my stories at* /r/jd_rallage"
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[WP] The year is 2020. The first astronauts have landed on Mars. They find a cave with a single human skeleton and four words written on the wall (We Are Not Alone). | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"''Cherokee-1, this is Haymaker, we've found something that may be catalogged as a problem, over'' says US Commander William Barostiwszky\n\n''Huh? Could you be more clear, Haymaker?'' responds the radio operator, removes the headset and gets the attention of a superior ''Sir, the gorund team may have found something...here'' ''Uuuuh, Cherokee, we have a skeleton, shit, a single...uh...human skeleton, ov-'' ''Chto eto? Yob tvoyu mat! William, come here!'' calls Cosmonaut Commander Zhardakov, ''What happened, Dima?'' ''Here...it says We Are Not Alone'' the Russian points with his gloved index finger at the bloody marks in the wall of the cave ''Shit'' William says as the cosmonaut asks by radio ''Command, this is Zhardakov, do you have any recorded human trips to Mars before us? Over'' ''Uh...that's a negative, Commander, over'' ''Engineer Jacobs, can you radio the ship and tell the Doc to come here ASAP?'' ''Sure thing, sir...'' responds ''Doctor, come to the coordinate I'm sending to your GPS, ASAP'' 5 minutes pass.\n\nDoctor cosmonaut Marya Morkova arrives in a hurry, ''Yes, Commander, I'm here! Who's injured?'' ''Deep breaths, Marya, I need your opinion on something'' ''Da, Commander'' Comm. William shows the girl the skeleton ''Oooh pizdec'' she mutter under her breath as she approaches the cadaver, ''There's still some skin around the bones...tak, tak tak, ah, yes, posmotri, here the neck has been sliced here, the person was bleeding out, you can see the trail of brownish matter on the floor...I wonder what could've done this'' William isn't too pleased with the discoveries, a sliced throat, a bleeding human on a planet no cosmonaut or astronaut has ever stepped on, this could only mean one thing: possible contact."
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[WP] Magic is in the process of being rediscovered. You have just found a protection enchantment that sounds suspiciously like, "Hold My Beer." | 515 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Part 1:\n\nThe book felt remarkably dense in my hands. It was no larger than a dollar-store trashy romance novel, but its cracked, burgundy leather cover and its thick yellowed pages smelled of history and Grandpa's attic. With his funeral so fresh on my mind, my heart was feeling as heavy as the book. \n\nGrandpa's house was an older two-story affair, built long before I even existed. I always loved going to visit as a kid. Grandpa always had the funniest stories to tell, and I always ate 'em right up. Grandma usually just smiled and shook her head when he would launch spiritedly into the retelling of yet another unlikely adventure. He'd sit there in his tattered, padded rocking chair with a bottle of Corona, and most of his stories had some manner of explosion, wild animal chases, or reckless dare-devilry. Every story, though, he'd tell us he recited what he called his \"motto\", before doing an especially outrageous stunt:\n\n\"Hold your tongues and have no fear! Follow me, our path is clear!\"\n\nI had never thought to question where he'd gotten that from. He'd always had a penchant for pun-making and wordplay, so I suppose I'd assumed he'd just made it up himself. Yet here it was, affixed to these stiff, musty pages in a runic style of calligraphy. I flicked through the rest of the book. Sometimes the letters were written in a blue ink with a golden sheen; sometimes the ink was an impossible black. Sometimes they were written in a different handwriting altogether. It seemed to be a collection of vaguely encouraging poems, but I had only ever heard the one before. It was too late to ask Grandpa about it now, anyhow.\n\nI closed the book and tucked it between my arm and my ribs. As I awkwardly made my way down the rickety attic ladder, the voices of my mother and my grandmother became louder. It sounded like they were arguing. I didn't want to draw any attention (or ire) to myself, so I crept down the stairs leading to the ground floor as quietly as I could. I made it only halfway down before my grandma hastily walked across the room in front of me. I froze. I didn't even take a breath, I was so silent; she saw me, nonetheless.\n\nWhen her eyes fell upon the half-hidden book, her demeanor took on a quiet and unsettled quality. Dishes suddenly clattered in the kitchen, and I heard the sound of water filling the sink. Grandma told me she would like to go to the porch and have a chat with me, so I followed her out the front door. She sat down in her own chair, which was set up next to Grandpa's. I could not bring myself to sit in Grandpa's chair, so I sat cross-legged on the weathered wood of the porch itself. It took a few moments and false starts, but she eventually regained her composure and asked me if I knew what I was holding. I did not, and said so.\n\nShe spoke gently, but with grief in her undertones. \"That is truly a very special book. When your grandfather was a young boy, his father bought it from an antique book store somewhere while away on business. He brought it back for Jerry as a souvenir. Well, your grandfather never was a keen reader, and he never got past the second page.\" She smirked a little. \"But clearly, he got something out of it. He loved the way that particular little phrase sounded like something a superhero would say, so he said it all the time!\" \n\nWith a nostalgic heart and a bittersweet smile, she went on to relate how this had caused them to meet each other for the first time when they were teenagers. On a sunny afternoon a long time ago, Grandma was carrying home the groceries her agoraphobic mother had just sent her out to buy. She was just about to walk around the corner by the Jonsons' house when she heard an alarmingly robust cry of, \"Hold your tongues and have no fear! Follow me, our path is clear!\" She halted in her tracks just in time to see a wiry blond blur of a bicyclist soar six feet in the air and directly across her path. She nearly lost her grip on one of her bags from gawping in sheer awe at the spectacle she witnessed next; four of the young man's friends soon whizzed past her, following an identical aerial trajectory as the original blur. Her eyes followed them through the sky and saw three of them make a landing across the street from her and near their bravest friend. The fourth boy was significantly younger (thus, smaller) than the rest, so he must not have had the same momentum as the others. His bicycle tire touched down on the street itself, caught the vertical side of the curb in such a manner that the bicycle flipped forward, throwing the boy off head-first. The boy, though, had all the grace and wiles of a cat; his front hands reached for the ground, his spine curled as his rump brushed the grassy lawn, and he sprang up on his feet in a victory pose like a gymnast's.\n\nWhen she was reasonably sure there would be no more crazed bicyclists, she looked around the corner that she never finished rounding. Down the sidewalk a little ways, there was a large wooden ramp. She set her groceries carefully on the Jonson's lawn as far from the sidewalk as she dared without getting prior permission, and marched over to the group of five to lecture them on pedestrian safety practices. She never got to, though. Just when she got within proper lecturing distance, the leader flashed her a disarmingly charming smile. This gave her pause, and he seized the moment to introduce himself. The other boys took their cue from him and likewise offered their names. At this point, politeness' sake mandated she respond in kind. She had barely finished speaking her name when the other boys went back to congratulating themselves on a stunt well done, but Jerry didn't seem to hear them anymore. His attention remained fixed on her, and the two of them carried on a pleasant, conversation that eventually bored the rest of the group. The pair soon found themselves alone, the ramp and bicycles gone. The sun was low in the sky, and an inquisitive neighborhood dog was approaching the forgotten groceries. She gasped and rushed back to shoo the dog away. Jerry followed her, and he offered to accompany her home and carry the groceries for her. \n\n",
"\"Fulton? Hey Fulton, come over here.\"\n\n\"What's up? I'm reading.\"\n\n\"Smitty's on the ledge.\"\n\n\"Hm?\"\n\n\"I said: Smitty stands on the ledge. That building on the other side of the street. Third floor. He is saying something. Come over and have a look.\"\n\n\"What's this idiot doing? He will kill himself.\"\n\n\"Smitty, are you drunk?\"\n\n\"He hasn't heard you.\"\n\n\"Or he can't. This silly hat is definitely not helping.\"\n\n\"Six days, and not a single word from him, and now he is pulling this stunt.\"\n\n\"He's actually been weird at least a month or so. Told me, he is a magican now.\"\n\n\"That explains the hat.\"\n\n\"Smitty, the police is coming. Come over here and have a drink with us. We sort things out.\"\n\n\"Let's go over, before the situation starts to get out of control.\"\n\n----\n\n\"Hold my beer.\"\n\n\"Smitty, we would love to hold your beer. We actually have a fine, cold one here for you. You just have to come down to us. We are all eager to hold your beer.\"\n\n\"I'm protected.\"\n\n\"You are drunk.\"\n\n\"No, I'm protected. By the higher forces of spirtual wisedom.\"\n\n\"He is mad. Completly.\n\nOfficer, he had a rough time. See, his wife, it's a little bit complicated. But he is really a good guy. Maybe mostly good, with some tiny little spots, that tend a little bit into grey or even dark grey, if you know, what I mean.\n\nI mean, c'mon, we all had done something stupid.\"\n\n\"Yes, we all have done something stupid. One time, maybe two. This is the, what, sixth time, this month, we come together for a 'magical celebration'. The 'great wall of fire', he started last week, is still ingrained into my retina.\"\n\n\"Hold my beer.\"\n\n\"Oh, shut up, you moron, and come down.\"\n\n\"Officer, I understand, that your departement is understuffed, and that fast and easy solutions are preferred at the moment. But would you mind to put that gun away for a moment, and let Fulton and me talk to him face to face? Give us five minutes, maybe ten.\"\n\n\"You have three, and I'm already counting.\"\n\n----\n\n\"Smitty, he's really angry this time. I mean, you have developed a tendency, which makes it really difficult, to cope with. See, not everyone belives in magic. Especially not in magic spells containing a reference to 'beer'. Give them credit, and now: Come down.\"\n\n\"Those who don't know, should not hold.\"\n\n\"Hold?\"\n\n\"Hold my beer.\"\n\n\"I do. Get in, and I'm holding what ever you want. Well, there may be exceptions, but I think, you get the point.\"\n\n\"Hold my beer.\"\n\n\"Smitty, I'm slowly drifting towards the Chief's solution, let him declare you a public danger and shoot you.\"\n\n\"Hold my beer.\"\n\n\"Yes, of course, and then?\"\n\n\"I'm jumping. I'm protected.\"\n\n\"No, Smitty, you are in a very fragile state of mind. You come back in here immediately.\n\nHe jumped. For christ sake, this old fart really jumped.\n\nSmitty! Smitty, are you alright. I can't believe this.\"\n\n----\n\n*NOTE: I'm still working on it. Suggestions are welcome.*",
"The demon horde appeared earlier that night. The first explosions happened in the newly established \"Occult\" faculty building. The Linguistics and Chemistry professors were conducting experiments with various ancient languages and chemical compounds. It didn't take much to realize that they probably didn't make it through the emergence of the numerous creatures that now swarmed across the campus. The smallest of which was at least the size of a large body-builder.\n\nThe frat house was jumping with that night's party. Beer was flowing, girls were stripping, guys were chugging. When they saw the flames coming from the new building across campus, they cheered louder. People grabbing each other and dancing to the thundering beat that came from the massive speakers set up on stage behind the live band.\n\nThe music stopped abruptly. The first wave of demons had showed up through the walkways and streets to the faculty buildings. One young man, unaware that the music had stopped, was still waving his arms around, spilling his drink, yelling \"WOOO!\" It took him a few seconds, but Ricky, the new arrival, a gifted boy from Alabama, realized everyone was standing still.\n\n\"'Ey! 'Ey, wass goin' ohn? Wass evrywun lookin' at?\" he said, annoyed at the lack of partying. He heard what can only be described as the screams of a thousand tortured souls somehow pushed into one sound. Turning, he saw the approaching army. Horrors beyond the nightmares of the most goth person on campus. Horns protruding from heads, elbows, knees. Tentacles everywhere. Boils and weeping sores on the slower ones. Spines and scales on the faster ones. All held vicious looking weapons and grins that told of the worst intentions. Ricky, being the brave soul he is, turned to the nearest blank faced bro and said, \"'EY! 'EY JIMMY!\"\n\nJimmy closed his eyes and shook his head vigorously before looking at Ricky with abject terror in his eyes, \"Ye...yeah, Ricky?\"\n\nRicky grinned, \"Ho- mah bir...\" Jimmy took the beverage, and Ricky charged into the oncoming horde. When he got to the line of creatures, one of them laughed maniacally with a voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. It swung its evil looking sword back and brought it forward with all the force of its bulging muscular body. Ricky flew back all the way to the supports holding up the stage, crashing with a sound of warping metal and shattering wood. Everyone watched it happen and looked in shock at the crater he left in the stage. Then he got back up. A slight blue light shimmered around him as he reached over to Jimmy. He grabbed his beer, chugged half of it and handed it back saying, \"WOOO! HO- MAH BIR JIMMY!\" The light that shimmered around him seemed to grow stronger. He pounded his feet, shooting back into the fray.\n\nThe demon who hit him lost its grin.",
"“Shit, that ain’t so hard.”\n\n“Joe, don’t,” Claire said immediately.\n\nHer husband shook his head. As stubbornly as always. “I got a damn rope in the shed. Toss it over the maple out near the creek, and that’ll be the swing.”\n\n“I believe you.”\n\nToo late, she realized. He was on his feet. “It ain’t that hard baby.”\n\n“I completely believe you,” she said, standing. Trying to think of something that would dissuade him. Not that she ever had.\n\n“No, come on.” He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her into motion.\n\nOutside, Joe ‘walked’ with her to the backyard shed eagerly. He disappeared inside for a few moments, and emerged with an old rope in hand. Then he pulled her to the edge of the backyard, to the creek that bordered the property. Beyond it was just forest, dead land that was of no value to anyone who didn’t like hunting, trapping, camping, and other totally un-city-like activities.\n\nWhich was Joe to a T.\n\nHe took a long swig of beer, then started trying to toss the rope over a handy branch. A big one, that stretched out across the creek. Claire looked at the gully the creek had carved out of the ground. It was a long way down when he fell.\n\n“Really honey, I believe you can do it.”\n\n“No you don’t.”\n\n“I do.”\n\nThe rope made it over the branch, and he went forward to grasp it. One handed he started knotting it around itself. It was one of the few useful ‘stupid’ skills he’d learned over the years. “You think I’m a fuckup,” he said as he manipulated the cordage.\n\n“I think you’re still annoyed with me for taking that job with the accountant.”\n\nScowling, he pulled the knot tight and gave her a quick eye flick. Equal measures guilt and shame flickered through his glance before he looked back at the rope. “I told you I’d figure something out. Get a second gig somewhere.”\n\n“When?” she asked. One way or another, this was going to end poorly. Maybe if she could distracting him with a simple yelling match no one would get hurt. Well, enough to end up in a cast, or worse, anyway.\n\n“I can take care of you,” he said as he started on a second knot. Which was something; maybe two would hold. “Ain’t I always done that?”\n\n“You’re a good man,” Claire said. Which was half true, at least. Once he had been. But failure, and pride, had driven a dark streak a mile wide through him. Life putting him on his knees was the worst thing that’d ever happened to him. With a task, and a clear path to completing it successfully, Joe was one of the most determined, hardest workers she’d ever known.\n\nUnfortunately, hard work wasn’t enough anymore. Not when the jobs didn’t pay, however much effort you put in. And the bank, the stores; they only wanted money. Not effort, not honesty, *certainly* not character. Just cash.\n\n“We were going to lose the house,” she said, already bracing herself. A bad fall that left him bedridden was the last thing they needed. And it would probably destroy him, in more ways than just the physical injury. “I had to do something.”\n\nFor a moment, she thought it had worked. That he was going to redirect everything toward her. Away from the creek, the rope, and disaster. It wouldn’t be the first time in the past year he’d slapped her around some. But despite his flaws, his terrible flaws, she remembered loving him. And could see how she could again. Bruises healed, for free even. Bones, his or hers or both, didn’t.\n\nJoe glared at her, then shook his head stubbornly. “We weren’t gonna lose the damn house.”\n\n“The final notice came,” she said, raising her voice. Trying to provoke him. He was almost done with the knots. “Sarah-Ann and Bobby, they got foreclosed on two months ago. Bank had them on the curb by six that evening.”\n\n“That jackass you work for, he’s trying to make a move.”\n\n“William’s just my boss,” she said, wincing. This was *not* the first time Joe had brought that up. It was one of his favorite avenues of attack when he talked about how he wanted her to quit the clerk position she’d taken.\n\n“I see how he looks at you.”\n\n“He’s *married*.”\n\n“So?”\n\n“So there’s nothing there. I’m married too,” she snapped, still hoping to draw him down on her. “To you. Grow up Joseph.”\n\n“Hold my beer,” he said, thrusting the can at her.\n\n“No.”\n\n“Hold it,” he repeated.\n\nShe took the can, then shook her whole arm to make the contents slosh out into his face. Just for a second she thought she’d finally managed it, and he was going to forget about the swing stunt they’d just seen on the TV. Which would hurt … but she did love him still. Maybe not as much as she had, but … still.\n\nBlinking cheap alcohol out of his eyes, he raised his hand, and she braced herself. But he just wiped his face, then turned his back on her. With a running start, he flung himself out across the gully. It wasn’t graceful, as he nearly missed getting his foot into the loop he’d made by knotting the rope off.\n\nBiting her lip, she watched as he swung out across the creek. The tree line on the far side represented any number of obstacles he could smash into. And a nice sized pecan tree was up to the task of dealing with Joe as her husband smashed into it at a pretty good pace.\n\nWhen he hit, his fingers came off the rope. But his foot stayed in the loop, and he swung back this way dangling upside down. Claire winced as she saw his body torqueing unnaturally, then screamed a little when his head smacked the top edge of the gully. That knocked Joe’s foot out of the loop, and he tumbled across the rocky ground like a ragdoll.\n\n“Joe!” she cried, running toward him. The rope was swinging back and forth nearby when she reached him. He rolled over as she arrived and fell to her knees. “Don’t move. I’ll call an ambulance.”\n\n“Don’t need no damn ambulance,” he muttered, though he was wheezing.\n\n“You’re—” she started to say, but the words died in her throat when she saw there was no blood. No bruises, no nothing. Tentatively she reached for his head. He caught her wrist before she could touch him.\n\n“Let me check you.”\n\n“I’m fine,” he grumbled. Angry, and embarrassed.\n\n“Let me see.”\n\n“So see.”\n\n“Let go,” she insisted, twisting her hand in his; trying to break loose.\n\nFor a moment she thought he might do that, only to hit her. But he dropped his eyes, and opened his fingers. She touched his head carefully, bracing herself to feel movement where there should be — far too thick — skull. There was nothing though; just skin and bone. Unbroken skin at that.\n\n“You lucky son-of-a-bitch,” she said angrily.\n\n“Told you, I’m fine.”\n\n“By the grace of God!” she snapped, making to rise. He came to his feet faster, pulling her up with him. Before she could catch up with what he was doing, he was dragging her toward the shed again. She glanced down, but he was moving without a limp. So, apparently, only his pride had been hurt. How made no sense, but at least there was no hospital stay in his future. “Let go of me.”\n\n“Gonna show you something else,” he said, still hauling her along with a grip of iron.\n\n“Let go!”\n\n“No.”\n\nShe was still trying to break free when they got back to the shed. He shoved her inside, and stood blocking the doorway. Recovering her balance, she turned to glare at him. “Okay, now what hotshot?”\n\n“Look in the bag there.”\n\nClaire blinked at him. “What?”\n\n“On the workbench,” he said, gesturing. “The bag.”\n\nTurning, she saw a duffel bag that she didn’t recognize. Joe stood waiting. Ignoring her attempt to glare him into moving. Finally she sighed and went over to the workbench. When she opened the bag, she saw stacks of money. Just like in the movies; bundles of bills, neatly wrapped. While she gaped at it, the back of her head was automatically running a calculation. It had to be thousands of dollars, even though every bundle was twenties or lower.\n\n“Where—”\n\n“You remember that thing we saw on the news about that magic bullshit?” he said when she looked at him.\n\n“What?”\n\nHe stuck his lip out. “I’m got it.”\n\n“What?” she screeched.\n\n“I told you I’d figure something out.”\n\nClaire finally got her brain back on track. Sort of. “You’re drunk,” she snapped. “Or hit your head worse than I—”\n\nShe stopped when he plunged his hand into his pocket and came out with his jack knife. The blade clicked open, and he sliced it across his arm before she could think to try and stop him. Or beg him to stop. But there was no blood. He closed the knife while holding his arm up so she could see.\n\n“You ain’t gonna work no more,” he said sourly. “I’ll take care of you. That’s my job.”\n\n“Stealing ain’t a job,” she said, scared. “What happens when you get caught?”\n\n“They can’t catch me,” he said, putting the knife away. “Guns, nothing, hurts me now. And when I set myself good, I can punch through walls too.”\n\n“Joe, honey—”\n\n“No!” he shouted. “Don’t ‘honey’ me Clairebear. You gonna be my wife, and I’ll take care of things. The way it’s supposed to be.”\n\n“I ain’t staying married to a bank robber.”\n\nHis face took on the dangerous set she’d learned to recognize of late. “We ain’t getting divorced, you ain’t working for that asshole no more, and I’m gonna take care of things. All you gotta be is my wife.”\n\nClaire yelled at him, enraged, then everything went back.\n\nWhen she woke up, she was in the hospital. The smells, the sounds, they were distinctive. Joe was sitting next to the bed when she turned her head. He saw she was awake.\n\n“Baby, I’m sorry,” he said, rising and falling to his knees next to the bed. “The magic thing, it’s new. I forget how strong I am.”\n\n“You’re not stealing anymore,” she said carefully.\n\n“But—”\n\n“No,” she said. “Or you’ll have to kill me.”\n\nShe saw the emotions, the thoughts, scrolling past behind his eyes. And knew before he even answered her.\n\n“Okay, fine,” he said evenly.\n\nClaire shook her head and started crying.\n\n* * * * *\n\nI collect all my flash fic [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/DavesWorld/). If you liked this, the others might be interesting too. Enjoy!",
"The Demon in front of me roared.\n \n\n“Okay,” I turned to Jenny, who had her eyes wide open and her mouth hanging. “So the Summoning Spell worked.”\n \n\n“Do you know what this means?!”\n \n\n“That there might be another dimensions with demons and stuff, blah, blah,” I replied, rolling my eyes. The blank gray walls around the room shimmered as the flames of the Demon roared. “But how do we send it back?!”\n \n\n“Uh,” Jenny took a step back, turned to the bunch of scientists behind the one way mirror. “Donovan! You found a Banishment Spell that one time, right?”\n \n\nThere was a moment of silence. The Demon roared once again. “FOOLS!” His voice rolled through the flames and off the walls.\n \n\n“Get in here!” I screamed. One of the panels of the wall burst inward. Donovan -- all lanky and wiry hair -- got in and shut the door behind him.\n \n“O-okay! I genuinely did not think Banishment Spells would ever be useful.”\n \n\n“NO! THIS WORLD IS OURS.” The Demon took a step forward, and a column of flame erupted in front of him, and another, and then another. Columns of flames exploded from the ground in a straight line, aimed directly at Jenny.\n \n\n“Shit!” screamed Jenny. \n \n\n“Abga-sharim-balik!” screamed Donovan.\n \n\nAnd I was already moving all before this. As Jenny screamed out her curse, I leapt in front of her, stood in between the searing hot hellfire and the just-as-hot-but-in-a-different-way woman, and shouted the first spell I’ve ever come across.\n\n \nI never really thought I’d use it. It sounded so ridiculous, and I never realized what its use was.\n\n \nBut there I stood and shouted, “Yold-Bai-Vier!”\n\n \nAnd a shield exploded in front of us, and the flames washed over it, shimmering and battering against the invisible wall of force.\n\n \nWhen the flames vanished, I looked past the shimmering barrier. I felt my heart rushing. I felt the air escape my lungs.\n\n \nThere was a blue circular portal behind the Demon now, and the Demon had dug its claws into the floor as the portal tried to suck him in.\n\n \nI turned to Donovan. “He’s trying to resist it!”\n\n \nJenny cursed again. “it’s too strong!” She watched the Demon slowly get on its feet, and roar flames into the portal. Slowly, the portal shrunk. “Nothing can push it in!”\n\n \nI grinned, turned to Jenny, and said, “Yold. Bai. Vier.” And I ran as fast as I could. The wind streamed around my shield as the Protection Enchantment did its thing.\n\n \nAnd I slammed the shield against the Demon, and it grunted, roaring thunder as it fell into the portal.\n\n \nI can’t really remember the rest. I passed out after that.\n",
"I murmured the words softly to myself:\n\n\"Ancient elder gods, I call on thee. Torgath. Shenron. Gibbles. Protect this chalice for me.\"\n\nNothing happened save for a draft flickering my dying candle. Strange. I closed the book softly and retired to my bed.\n\n_________________\n\n\nThe next day some of the anthropology and archeology staff went out to the bar because it was Friday and the only spell we got to work was one to produce a small frog. \n\n\"Man, he's a friendly lil guy\" Professor Stevens said. The frog sat perched on his shoulder, bobbing it's head to the beat of Journey's \"Seperate Ways\". \n\n\"I think he likes the music\" I laughed and shoveled some chips into my mouth. A twinge told me it was time to relieve myself in the dive bar's dark bathroom. \"Stevens, can you hold this beer for me? No roofies, please.\" \n\n\"Why don't you ask -- what was it -- Torgath and something else...\" \n\n\"Hah!\" I laughed and held my arms up theatrically, beer in one hand.\n\n\"Ancient elder gods, I call on thee. Torgath. Shenron. Gibbles. Protect this chalice for me.\"\n\nI set the chalice on the bar and started to walk away when I heard someone scream and drop a glass. I looked back and stared at a 8-foot reptilian hominid with black armor standing by my beer and holding a halberd. It used it to push back my friends as it snarled. It looked to me and hissed:\n\n\"Ssssssummoner. I will remain here and protect your drink.\" It waved a massive scaled hand over the beer and a light white layer of frost encased the glass and some of the bar. \n\n\"And it sssssshall remain cold for you. It issssss sssssafe to attend to your businessssss. I am the sssservant of the elderssss and you, powerful one.\" \n\nThe bar was silent except for Motorhead's \"Ace of Spades\". \n\nA massive popping sound filled the air and suddenly the same woman from before screamed again as a giant Koala-man appeared on the opposite end of the bar, clad in gold armor and pointing his sword at me.\n\n\"FOOL! You have summoned the minion of Shenron and Gibbles!\" I stared in confusion as the reptilian darted across the bar and slammed his halberd into the koala-knight. The impact forced all the bar patrons back with a whooshing wind and immense pressure. \n\n\"The battle for the end times has begun. You have chosen your side.\" The knight kicked the reptile back and prepared for his attack. \n\n[\"Now fight, Mage!\"](https://talesofatravellingsalesman.com) \n"
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[WP] A water-gun fight between children, told as if it were a horrific war story. | 79 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"War Log\n\nLuke, Steve, Max and Dave. They called themselves the Blue Battalion, on July the 2nd, 1992 they fought a battle against Samuel, Jackson, Rick and Billy, or the Red Renegades. Both sides really didn't want to do this, but they needed to follow orders, before charging into battle, the Blue Battalion collectively spoke a prayer, \"Dear God, please let us all survive this battle and return home with victory and Chicken Nuggets.\" \n\nThe Red Renegades did not have time for prayers, the cocky bastards threw a grenade into the Blue Battalions trenches, followed by the familiar splash of the grenade exploding, followed again by another familiar sound, the sound of screaming, \"Steve! Steeeeeve! Max was hit, his leg is soaked, we need help! NOW!\" Luke screamed, over the noise of gunfire and splashes hitting the debris and trenches while Steve crawled over with a towel and started drying Max's leg, Steve was new to the Blue Battalion, a replacement of sorts, he only moved in the neighborhood a month before the battle, but he had potential, after Max had his leg fixed, he got his rifle and returned fire, the Renegades lobbed another grenade over, but this grenade did not go off, Dave took a risk, Dave was the oldest of all of them.\n\nDave was 7 and a half, he said he was growing old and tired of this war, this was sadly his last battle, but he had a plan, he ran to his tricycle with grenade in hand, and peddled towards the Renegade trenches covering himself with a piece of debris from the destroyed couch, he left the tricycle holding both debris and the grenade, he snuck up to 2 Renegade soldiers shooting at Max and squeezed the grenade as hard as he could whilst screaming \"FOR MY BROTHERS IN BLUE!\", setting it off, killing Billy and Jackson of the Renegades, but also killing Dave, my own brother, dead.\n\nMax jumped out of cover, sprinting towards the trenches of the renegades, firing at them with his pistol, he surprisingly managed to hit Samuel in the stomach, but whilst bleeding out, Samuel shot Max directly in the head, making Max flop to the ground.a\n\nThis part was the most horrifying thing I had ever seen, the Renegade known as Rick, he pulled out his rifle and sprayed it at Luke, hitting him almost everywhere and peppering him with wounds, after seeing this, Steve, the newcomer shot himself through the head with his pistol, he was so close to his 7th birthday, only 2 days.\n\nThinking he had won the great war for the renegades, forgetting that I was in quarantine behind him due to chemical warfare used on me, somebody gave me the chicken pox, despite moms advice, I went out there, and shot him in the head, and I won the war, this War Log is dedicated to all the people I lost in the battle that day, it is currently the one year since that day and it is still haunting.\n\n\n(This is really shit, but I thought why not, y'know ",
"Three years, it’s been three years since that day. There were thousands of them,. We were surrounded.\n Our front lines had been breached, we were losing hundreds by the minute. The sky was filled with dark grey clouds where rain came pouring down hard faster than the bleeding wounds of our fallen brothers. Tanks drove by on the side roads while we were stuck in our six foot deep trenches. While we were distracted by the loudness of the tanks when two enemy soldiers charged from their side of the barricades. Someone had screamed something that seemed to resemble my name. It was my sergeant yelling for me to “get down.” The two enemy soldiers had finally approached. We opened fire. The enemy went down firing firing shots. One of our comrades was hit. I rushed down to help our fallen brother. I leaned in to tell him everything was going to be okay. He crumpled over screaming “MOM!.”\n \nIt was mom. There she was rolling into the driveway in the family tank. She came running from the driveway screaming “Tommy how many times do I have to tell you be careful when playing with your little brother!.” \n \nShe picked up my brother to take him inside to change him out of his wet clothes.\n \nI served three years. Three years I was banned from having water gun wars with my friends in the front yard.\n",
"It was an ambush. Our intel informed us that their forces were amassing their arsenal and would be prepared for battle in a few hours. We had multiple sources indicate that they were stockpiling most of their inventory at the Jenkins place.\n\n3 super soaker 700s with dual tank capacity. 2 gun holster/bandoliers that carried to akimbo water pistols and carrying 6 .5L mags each. 250 estimates water balloons. Enough for a small hit squad but not enough to supply their entire ranks. \n\nLittle did we know that was one of 3 stash houses, each with an arsenal of equal size.\n\nWe were preparing the last of our ammunitions when we were struck at our home base. My own backyard.\n\nSome of us were able to find cover but they rushed in faster than a raging riptide. Streams of water, some up to half an inch diameter in width sliced through us like a hot knife through butter.\n\nI can still hear their screams...\n\n\"We said no sneak attacks!\"\n\n\"I can't feel my feet! My socks are soaked!\"\n\nI scrambled away as one of them burst in through the side gate. The nutcase had his torso wrapped with 50 water balloons bounded with ferocity towards James. \n\n- SLAP -\n\nThe membrane of the water balloons slapped against James sending an echoing slap across the yard.\n\nBefore he could get his gun loaded he had wrapped around him bear hug-style. There was a scream. From James or his attacker I may never know. In a flash they were overtaken by an explosion of water that instantly blinded me.\n\nAs I clawed at my eyes to regain my vision it struck me. Cold. That's all I felt. Cold.\n\nAt this close of a range anyone within 10 feet would be in the splash zone. \n\nThe coldness shot daggers through my back. I felt paralyzed. The gushing liquid pierced my spine sent liquid gushing down my back and dropping me to my knees. \n\nThat's when I heard that unmistakable sound of plastic wheels on concrete. The sound of crunching gravel echoing bounced and reverberated between the walls of the tightly packed houses. Large family style coolers. Probably holding enough water balloons to fill a few small kiddie pools.\n\nOur first attackers had retreated to their newly arrived arsenal. Each of them grabbing multiple balloons in each hand. They waited menacingly taunting those of us left to come out of hiding and to face the glory of the battlefield. There was silence before the command was ordered.\n\nThe last thing I saw was the blue cloudless sky become engulfed in a frightening barrage of colorful spheres. Blotting out the sun.\n",
"(I *highly* advise finding a violin instrumental track of Amazing Grace. Those who know will figure out why pretty quickly. If you don't, find a working version of Ken Burns' documentary of the Civil War, or the Community 2 part Civil War episode.)\n\nNARRATOR: July 4th, 1994. The day would be remembered as the bloodiest conflict that took place in the community of Colliersville. That day saw a rift form between the once united Valleywood Vikings. \n\nThis day that would see brother fighting against brother (stills of an 8 year old and a 10 year old appear holding super soakers and wearing trunks), best friends turned rivals (a still showing a kid being blasted in the face by a large jet of water), a waterhose ammo distributer who found glory as an artillery man and ambitious groups who sought the reigns of power for themselves.\n\nStill how did this war happen? Could it have been avoided? Jake Sawyer was there when the rift in neighborhood unity appeared.\n\nJAKE: July 3rd, 1994. 11:23 AM. Mom wanted my brother David and I to go outside and play. My brother wanted to go play over in Billy's yard. I decided to go get on my bike and just ride up and down our street, y'know? However, when I got back I saw them playing with baseball cards. MY baseball cards. I told them to give it back but David said that mom said he could look at them. \n\nSo, I needed justice. That is when I went to the cove at the end of the street and knocked on Steven's door.\n\n(*cue Civil War area fife and drum music*)\n\nNARRATOR: Steven Callahan was one of the older boys that lived in the cove at the end of Valleywood Dr. While not as large as the rest of the street in terms of land covered, there were several houses there, each with a few boys. All looked to Steven for leadership and he was looking for a fight.\n\nSTEVEN: I didn't care about Jake's baseball cards. He didn't even have a single Jose Conseco or Nolan Ryan card in that crummy binder of his. Still, I saw an opportunity to re-establish my dominance over the rest of the street. I called up my friends to tell them to start gathering up arms and balloons. War would break out soon. Steven's diary, July 3rd, 1994. \n\n(*Music switches to a Southern gospel tune on a violin*)\n\nNARRATOR: One of the boys who received the call from Steven was Michael Smith, Steven's best friend. Michael's family lived down the street from the cove but that didn't stop them from being friends until now. However, when this call came forth, something stirred in Michael. Something stronger than friendship.\n\nMICHAEL: I was shocked when I heard Steven over the phone telling me to get my guns and join him. Did he not get that he was being a bully and showing aggression to the rest of the street? My side of the street? If he was allowed to boss us around at will, what would happen to our way of life? No. I wasn't going to stand for this. Honor meant that I would stand by with the guys on the straight side. Michael's diary, July 3rd, 1994. 3:25 PM.\n\nNARRATOR: Michael soon met with David and Billy, explaining what was happening in the cove. The boys rushed to find any super soakers, off brand water pistols and balloons that they could get their hands on. 4 more friends came and helped with filling up water balloons and mapped out the neighborhood for places that they could refill their guns without getting into trouble.\n\nLater in the evening, the boys from both sides of the street started to taunt each other and play chicken on their bikes. Daring the opposing side to take the first shot. However it soon became dinner time and mothers called their children in to eat. The war would not start this day.\n\nThe night was a quiet one. At Jake and David's house, the atmosphere was frigid. \n\nJAKE: Jake's diary, July 3rd, 1994. 9:36 PM. Mom said that David could play with my baseball cards again tomorrow. I decided to hide them from him in our closet. He's not tall enough to reach the top shelf anyways. If he is going to play with them, he will have to pry them from my hands. Or whine to mom, the little brat.\n\n(Still: A suburban house with the date July 4th, 1994. 10 AM captioned in front. The skirmish at Jake and David's.)\n\nNARRATOR: The following morning, David wanted to take the baseball cards over to Billy's to check stats of their players and watch a game on Billy's cable TV. Upon hearing his refusal, David went to get Billy and Michael. They were going to have to take the baseball cards by force. In the front lawn, Jake was waiting for the with a Super Soaker cannon with a water backpack strapped to his back. \n\nEveryone forgets who fired the first shot that day, most scholars believe it was David when Jake teased him about his whining. Nevertheless, the three boys soon charged at Jake. The war for Valleywood Drive had begun.\n\nEnd of Part 1.\n\n\n",
"Chemical warfare. Ever since its conception, it had been used to eliminate maximum enemies with maximum pain. With each new war came new chemicals made to inflict more pain, more damage and more death. \n\nBut this war was different. Mustard gas, chlorine gas, Agent Orange; nothing compared to this new formula that had been developed recently. H2O, they called it. At first glance, it didn't even seem that dangerous. We drank it, we bathed in it, hell, it was in the air we breathe! But they weaponised it. Somehow. And the worst part? The weaponisation process was so easy that kids had begun to do it. \n\nSoon, the war had spread across the globe. There were battlefields everywhere, from the backyards of Swindon to the roads of Banbury. Everyone had their own horror stories from the war - here is mine. \n\nWe had been preparing our defenses for the best part of the day, waiting for the inevitable siege to come from the ever-advancing enemy. Tommy's squad was already gone - we hadn't heard from them ever since orders from command had been given to them to \"come inside for dinner before the food gets cold\". Their fire support would be surely missed, but nothing could be done about that now. At least we still had the high ground - our base was called 'The Treehouse' but it wasn't just any old treehouse. Gaps between the wooden planks of our walls allowed us to fire away all while remaining mostly protected, the leafy canopy protected us from any aerial assaults, and we had a large stockpile of bombs and buckets to repel even the most hardened enemy. \n\nHours had gone, and with the sun now barely kissing the horizon, we heard the war cries from the approaching enemies. Scared? Sure I was. But we were prepared and I sure as hell wasn't going down without taking at least a few of them with me. \n\n\"They're here!\" I yelled to my squadmates as I hunkered down, pistol in one hand and a water bomb in the other. These water bombs had to be handled carefully, as if they were filled too much then they could explode prematurely. I nodded to Nick and Pete and on my cry of \"Away!\" we launched our bombs over the wall. \n\nA resounding splat echoed up towards us and we knew the battle had truly begun. Heart racing, I risked a glance over the top to see who we had hit. I managed to see two of them dragging a third away, all three soaked in water, before a stray shot narrowly missed my head and I quickly ducked down again. We didn't know how many they were - but we resolved to hold our position at all costs. Nobody was taking our treehouse today, or ever. \n\nSuddenly, Nick cried out in a mixture of surprise and pain and stumbled backward from his position, clawing at his eyes in agony. Intentional or not, one of them had somehow shot through a gap in the planks and hit his eyes. He was gone - and I couldn't do anything but watch as he sank to his knees, and keel over. \n\nI had known Nick pretty much my whole life - we lived on the same street, we would carpool to kindergarten and his mom would always make us 6 chicken nuggets each after soccer practice on Wednesdays. And now? One single stray shot through our so meticulously-prepared defences was all it took to take him out. War is unfair. \n\nBut I couldn't stop to mourn the loss of my friend. We still had a battle to fight. Pete was on the other side of the treehouse, lobbing waterbombs over the battlements at the onrushing horde of enemies. The splats of exploding bombs coupled with the screams of our foes echoed through the air as we fought as best we could. Our defences held firm - they could not break through. \n\nAll of a sudden, our bombs were greeted with silence. Not sure whether we had taken them all out, Pete and I stuck our heads over the battlements to survey the damage. The flowerbeds were in disarray, the neighbour's hedges had bits of balloon scattered all over, and the grass had been turned into a muddy, soggy mess. \n\nOut of the corner of my eye I spotted some movement - James, one of the enemy. He was...dragging something? What more could they bring to the fight that they could hope to breach our defences? \n\nPete whispered, \"Holy shit...they've got a hose...\"\n\n\"No way man, you're seeing things,\" I replied as James came closer, dragging...a hose. We hadn't been briefed on this - intel had shown just small arms and maybe a couple waterbombs at the most. But with a full length garden hose, James could simply sit back out of range from our bombs and spray us until we eventually succumbed to the water blast. There was no hope.\n\nI racked my mind. How could we defend from such power? We couldn't take James out without being taken out in return. I scanned our treehouse - ammo was low, we only had a couple waterbombs left, and Pete and I were knackered. We wouldn't be able to last much longer. As my eyes swept our sorry excuse of a base, they came to rest on our escape swing. Our last ditch escape route, if enemies had somehow found a way to breach the walls and get inside. We could try that, and live to see another day. The only problem was that the swing would take us directly in front of James and his garden hose. Wait. That was perfect!\n\n\"Pete, gather all the rest of the water bombs and bring them here. I have a plan.\" \n\nAs Pete did so, I knew we didn't have much time. James was almost done setting up the hose, and once he started spraying we knew he wouldn't stop. I found two pieces of rope hanging around and fashioned them into two makeshift ammo belts, securing a few waterbombs to each one. Pete and I tied them around our waists and headed towards the escape swing. Sharing one last handshake, I told him \"Let's do this for Nick,\" and we stepped onto the swing. \n\nThe expression on James's face as we leapt from our battlements, screaming our lungs out, is one I will never forget. Wide eyed, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. We threw every waterbomb we had at him, barely giving him the chance to get the hose up. They all hit their mark, dousing him with all the remains of our defences. But he did get it up at the last second, hitting Pete square in the chest even as he went down under a barrage of bombs. \n\nPete didn't make it. Neither did Nick. But they were two of the best men I had ever served with. \n\n",
"\"I'm afraid your son is suffering from PTSD\" the doctor said blankly. Martha and Jim sat in silence. Martha was barely holding back tears. \"It was so terrible, what he must have seen\" she whimpered. Her husband embraced her. \"We'd like to see him now\" he said softly. \n\nThe doctor walked them down the long, pristine hallway, and into a padded room. Martha broke down in tears at the sight of her son. He sat, in a straight jacket, screaming in terror, and began to scramble into a corner of the room. \"It's okay James\" Jim said \"it's just us\". James calmed down slightly, and began speaking in a shaky voice \"They broke the rules man, they broke the rules, Andrew got blasted right in the face!\"\n\n\"It's alri-\" his father began to say, before being cut off by James' screams: \"YOU WEREN\"T THERE MAN, YOU DON\"T KNOW!\" His father backed up, a sad expression on his face. He knew his son would never be the same. But he would get that son of a bitch kid across the street. The rules had been set, but Paulie had decided they didn't apply to him. Now, he was going down, Jim would get revenge for his son. He drew the pistol from his pocket and went to the bathroom sink. \"You're going down motherfucker.\"",
"Numerous treaties, conventions and agreements between nations, all for the purpose of making war more humane. But as always someone somewhere get's a bright idea and decides that the rules do not apply to them, that they are above them. I mean, after they win the war what's the point right? The means might have been \"against the rules\" but in the end it's for us, for humanity.\n\nIn all my seven and a half years on this earth I never gave a second thought to any of it, not before I experienced it first hand. Nobody wants to mess with nuclear weapons, nobody is that dumb. But chemical, now that is another game entirely we people can weasel out of that one. \"It's short term\", \"nobody will know the difference\", \"a few minutes under the dryer and it'll be fine\". but it wasn't.\n\nMy platoon was stationed near the boarder. Now this is not the kind of boarder that exists only on paper oh no. This one is as real as you and me. A ungodly one and a half meter high divider of worlds. Unpenetrable. Behind it, demon spawns that howl at anything that moves. What aggravates them the most are communications officers who sometimes venture beyond the border. Undoubtedly their suits must be coated with some demon repellent.\nThis time as well, the howls were omnipresent and we used them to our advantage to cover our approach. Our plan was to flank the enemy at their bases weak spot. Well prepared as they were at the front their backs were heavily exposed and most importantly we could assault their ammunition containers.\n\nThe plan was set and at first it went well. The howls muffled our movements along the border and we approached within three and a half diaper distance of their ammo containers, and then it happened. We couldn't breathe for what seamed like hours. Streams of toxic chemicals was poured upon our bodies. My entire team was screaming for help but to no avail. \n\nIn the end none of them survived. Only me. Only I was able to make it out alive. To tell the tale of our journey, our struggle. And finally to bring the savages to justice. The world must know. \n\nEdited:Spelling",
"In these modern, civilised times, one would have expected the world to become less brutal. It seems though, that every day we humans think of a new way to unleash agony upon our own species. I witnessed a skirmish today. It was fought between children who were no older than seven or eight. They had been given devastating weapons, capable of unspeakable damage. The weapons spew a vile substance known scientifically as dihydrogen monoxide.\n\nThese soldiers, though barely more than children, fought with the courage of a thousand men. The atrocities that they had witnessed… I heard a boy scream in agony ”No fair!” as he threw down his weapon and fell on the ground, writhing in unimaginable pain. The leader of the other team, no doubt brainwashed to feel no emotion, stood over the helpless twitching body and delivered the final blow “That’s for tripping me at school, Billy.”\n\nThe battle was slowly coming to an end as the one team was seizing a strategic point. Then came the artillery. Never in my entire life had I ever witnessed such a massacre. “Balloon fight!” a boy screamed as he launched a blood red shell of destruction at his enemy. They scattered and hopelessly looked to find any form of shelter from the carnage that was raining down upon them from the heavens.\n\n“The Battle of Fat Billy’s Yard” was thus concluded, forever to be remembered as one of the most brutal events in the world’s history.\n\nEdit: Format and Spelling\n"
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[WP] Global Warming is being orchestrated by a secret organization who deliberately want to raise the temperature on Earth. | 7 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Fyodor walked into the main hub of the Russian base of operations in north-east Siberia. He was wearing 3 jackets and still he felt as if he was going to find black stumps where his extremities used to be. He had long since lost sensations as he made his way back from the ice sample collections centre. His colleague, also from the University of California in Berkley was playing a video game when he walked in, covered in ice. Johnson was a California national that had only seen snow from a Marijuana dispensary in Colorado before he made the trip to Siberia. It was down to Fyodor to make the excursions to the drill and return samples back to lab for analysis. He had not closed the door to the facility properly however, and when he had removed the outer 2 layers, the door swung violently open as the wind cut through the small interior of the research facility. Fyodor reacted quickly closing the door as the -45 Celsius winds fought valiantly. He closed the door and noticed that he couldn’t breathe, the wind had stolen his breath, and that his hands were stuck to the metal door. Johnson, who had been thrown by the force of the wind, off his chair, recovered and went over to see if his friend was ok. Finding that he was wheezing and his hands stuck to the door, he poured the hot coffee he had just made and luckily had been saved from the wind, over Fyodor’s hands. He winced in pain as the nerves in his hands started a firework show of pain. Fyodor finally managed to get a lungful of beautiful sweet air into his lungs and thank his American colleague. Massaging the throbbing appendages, he returned to his station, putting the ice-samples into a refrigerator. He noticed that he had a video message from his professor Dr. Winkel, one of the leading scientists on global climate change, It was marked as urgent. He plugged in his headphones and pressed play.\n\nFor the next 10 minutes, Fyodor sat with his mouth agape, transfixed to the screen, as the Professor, covered in blood, crying, tried to explain what had happened to him. The video opened with the professor’s face framed, even then the man’s face was white with shock and blood loss, as he quickly explained that there was an active shooter at the University. The shooter had entered the professor’s office and explained that he was an agent from the collective known as “The Philosophers” who were a group of billionaires not unlike the illuminati myth. He had then shot the professor and then everyone else in the department. The professor had tried to explain that he had been approached earlier by a mysterious, anonymous online source, that if he manipulated the figures of the rise in global temperatures in the paper he was writing, he would receive 50 million USD. He had dismissed it as a prank by one of his students, clearly that had been a mistake and the threat had been very real. The professor had been coughing blood at this point, some of the words had become incoherent. There was then a loud bang as the video ended abruptly. Fyodor leaned back in his chair, trying to chew and digest everything that he had just witnessed. As he leant back felt the bump of something cold and metallic dig into the base of his skull. He heard Johnson say gently and remorsefully.\n\n“I wished you hadn’t seen that my friend,” Fyodor veins turned to ice.\n",
"\"Hey, Dod... Dod.\" Reggie reached over the counter and picked one of the magazines from the front side and gave the sleeping Dod a solid smack. The startled cashier nearly fell off his stool.\n\n\"Huh? Yeah? Wazzit?\" Dod seemed unhappy about being roused from his slumber. He rubbed his forehead. \n\n\"Look at that guy, back there. Over by the gum and candy and shit.\" Reggie gestured towards the second isle from the front of the store while replacing his improvised bludgeon on the rack.\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, what about him?\" He adjusted his thick rimmed sunglasses on his face and shifted in his stool, poised to fall back asleep.\n\n\"Can you see through your hungover haze for two seconds?\"\n\nDod let out a sigh and took off his sunglasses. Leaning over to get a better view, he raised an eyebrow. \"Weird time of the year to be wearing a coat that size.\"\n\n\"Weird time, Dod? It's summer... this is Arizona.\"\n\nThe man was wearing a large burgundy fur coat, the kind that PETA would throw animal blood all over you for wearing. Also a pair of gloves and what appeared to be a (badly) hand knit cap. Having made his choice of candy he reached down and grab what must have been at least eleven Snickers bars and began making his way towards the counter. As Reggie was ringing them up, he noticed the man shooting nervous glances out to the parking lot. Dod was trying to slyly get a photo without him noticing, most likely for some sort of SnapChat post.\n\n\"Alright, that'll be 14 dollars and 12 cents, bud.\"\n\nThe man didn't say anything but instead, rather frantically began going through the clearly vast number of pockets in his out of season garment. Dod just gave him a disapproving look. Wouldn't have been the first to stroll into the Circle K and forgotten their wallet. However, on his 5th pocket, he retrieved a bulging leather wallet and produced a 20 dollar bill.\n\nAs Reggie dutifully counted out the change, he heard the roar of a V8 and saw, through the window, a black Ford Crown Vic pull into one of the front spots. The bottom of the front bumper made a crunch as it drove too far into the spot. The man in the coat looked out the window and a panicked look came over his face.\nTwo men in black suits emerged from the vehicle, and appeared to be arguing.\n\n\"Every time I let you drive, you do this.\" Said one man. He was tall and muscular and had the face of the man who was trying too hard to look serious.\n\nThe other was shorter and rather chubby. It appeared as if he had just finished eating as there was a red stain that was (hopefully, Reggie thought) ketchup. \"No, no, no. Not every time. Besides, the front of the car is just too long. Way too long. Why does it need to be that long?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sheds, every time.\" The tall man open the door and addressed Reggie, who still had the $4.87 cents in his hand. The man had forgotten it when he ran suddenly to the bathroom at the back of the store. When you gotta go you gotta go, I guess, Reggie had thought. \"Hello young man. My name is Agent Bets. My associate here is called Sheds.\"\n\n\"Oh, uh, how do you do officers?\" Reggie said nervously.\n\n\"Oh.\" He laughed. A kind of fake sounding laugh. \"We're not police officers.\"\n\nThe fat one piped up, \"Yeah, we work fo-\" He was interrupted suddenly by Bets elbowing him in the stomach.\n\nBets finished his sentence, \"for a concerned party who believes that someone suspicious may have visited your store today.\" He walked over to Dod. Who was still taking pictures with his phone. Bets, with outstanding speed, grabbed the front of his shirt collar and hauled him up, snatched the phone from his hand, and placed him back on his stool. He through the phone to the floor and gave it a good stomping with his heel. \"Can't be having live coverage of these sorts of affairs.\"\n\nDod looked nervously over at Reggie, who could barely make out the fear in his eyes behind the dark shades.\n\nBets looked down at the counter and saw the candy bars. \"You boys hungry, or did someone run out of here real quick and forgot their snack?\"\n\nIt was clear to Reggie that these two gentlemen were pretty serious about... whatever it was they were doing. \"Uh, well guys... you see, we did have one fellow in here that was a little out of place. Just weird really. Big coat.\" Dod chimed in, \"Yeah man, the one's like PETA doesn't want you to wear.\"\n\nReggie chuckled. The two men didn't. They simply exchanged a knowing look. Agent bets leaned in closer to Reggie. Agent Sheds was eyeballing one of the chicken sandwiches under the heat lamp. \"Just... where might we find this gentleman? I'll take his candy to him. It'll be a shame if he doesn't get it.\"\n\n\"You're just not you when you're hungry.\" Sheds added, still drooling over the food.\n\n\"What?\" Bets shot him an angry look.\n\n\"Oh, yeah, you know. The commercial. The Snickers commercial.\" Sheds elaborated.\n\nBets was getting frustrated. \"Just tell us where he ran off to.\"\n\n\"Bathroom.\" Replied Reggie, remembering that it wasn't in his contract as a convenience store clerk to protect the privacy of his clientele.\n\n\"Good man.\" Bets smiled and slowly walked down the isle towards the public restroom and out of view.\n\n\"Could I get two of these spicy chicken sandwiches here, please?\" Said Sheds.\n\n\"Yeah, sure let me just-\" There was suddenly gunshots. Several of them and the sound of wood and porcelain being destroyed, a click, the sound of an empty magazine striking the tile floor and a new one being slid in, then the same thing again. Dod reached into the plastic case at the back of the counter and took out one of those tiny bottles of Jack Daniels and took a shot. Reggie just silently went about packing up the food. \n\n\"Oh, don't worry about him. He's a professional.\" Shed's grabbed the bag of sandwiches out of Reggie's shaking hand and laid a 20 down on the counter. \"Keep the change. Ha. Always wanted to say that. It's cool in the movies and stuff, ya know. When people say-\"\n\nBets interrupted. \"Alright Sheds, we're all done here.\" He handed Reggie a card. \"You ever see anything like that again, you call us. That's our office number. I mean anything. You know those people who always complain about your A/C being too low and say things like, 'I'm cold blooded'... especially call us.\"\n\nThe two left quietly and Reggie waited for the Crown Vic to rumble away before turning to Dod, who was working on his 4th shot.\n\n\"What does the card say?\" Asked Dod, concerned.\n\nReggie flipped over the card in his hand. \"It... it's just got Al Gore's number and website on it.\"\n\n\n"
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"1497465374",
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[WP] These Midnight Walks | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"It's been a long time since she left. Over a year now as best as I can recall. I've gained some weight, about thirty pounds. I've lost my job, been skating by with what was in my 401k for the last few months. Our dog... My dog was old, finally went. It was quiet, it was in her sleep. Soon I'll be broke, and I'll be out of my house, back in with my parents I suppose.\n\nShe had reason to leave, I guess. I worked nights out at the bar, only barkeep on call so I would work most nights out of the week, and she worked days at a grocery store near the house. We never really got to see each other, and when we were both home and awake, we were tired and unhappy. She deserves better than that.\n\n\"You were scum. Always were, always will be. You're lucky she was around as long as she was.\"\n\nI thought the person was walking next to me. Guess not, cause when I looked over he wasn't there. Wasn't behind me either. Probably something in my head. It's always something in my head. Anyway, my mom is happy she's gone. My dad too, but he isn't so vocal about it. My friends, especially my best friend though... They make me feel like shit when I defend her. When I have to tell people that she wasn't as cruel as they think, when I have to tell them they don't know the whole story, when I tell them she wasn't seeing anyone else. \n\n\"You're lying to yourself honey, you need to stop that, or it's going to hurt you more than we ever could.\"\n\nAnother one. God these voices are just getting worse. It used to be easy. Her voice, her touch, her smile, they would all make the voices go away. The schizophrenia was under control while she was around. Now they won't go away. They pick on me, they tear me apart, hell they're probably to blame for everything wrong in my life, but why would I ever blame anyone but myself?\n\n\"Who else would you even blame? And if you blamed anything else, who would be here to hear and sympathise? No one. You're alone out here, like you deserve to be.\"\n\n\"I don't know.\" I know I shouldn't talk to them. They aren't real, I don't think, and giving them a platform just makes it worse. Lucky for me though, the wind picked up and the smell of wet grass assaulted my nostrils. That's why I was out here. Not the grass specifically, but the stimuli. They tended to keep the voices down, distracted me, and for now it seemed to work. They retreated, and once again I was alone in the dark, the moon pouring it's silver light down on the streets. \n\nWiping the tear the escaped my eye away, I press on. Not far now, my house is close, and I can turn on the shower and sit in the tub for a few hours after this. Maybe that's not so healthy. Maybe my life isn't so healthy anymore. The wind picks up again, bringing dust and leaves towards me, making it dance a beautiful dance. I used to love coming out here. I used to love a lot of things. \n\nI cut through the park, not a normal thing for me but I want to get home as soon as possible. As I cross the grass, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep them warm, I hear someone behind me. No one is there, ofcourse, but I look anyway. \n\n\"You're stupid.\"\n\nVery original. Well, sometimes the blunt ones hurt the most. I take a seat on a bench, looking down at the concrete the bench is situated on.\n\n\"Broken, just like you and all of your little dreams.\"\n\n\"Please stop.\" I can't help but beg. Sometimes it's all I can think to do. My arms slowly wrap around my chest as I lean forward, the voices continuing to assault me. \n\n\"You don't even deserve the life you have.\"\n\n\"You're a disgrace.\"\n\n\"You ought to just kill yourself.\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\nI sob as the weight becomes too heavy, crushing me. As I wept though, I realized something was off. Something wasn't there this time, it was just me crying. I felt alone this time.\n\n\"Excuse me, are you... Alright?\"\n\nAs my head slowly rises, I suddenly realize that I wasn't alone. Someone was here, a woman. She's out here walking, just like me. Her eyes are wet, but that could have just been because of me.\n\n\"I... I'm sorry I didn't mean...\" She takes a step forward, putting a hand on my shoulder. \"I hope I'm not...\" Her voice, it made them go away. \n\nShe sat next to me as the tears began to roll again, and hers came with mine. We sat and talked, and found out we were a lot alike. She didn't have voices, not like me, but she was sad too. Her doctors told her she would never not be sad, at least she wouldn't be if she didn't work on it. Funny, my doctor told me the same thing. Eventually the tears stopped, and we sat in silence. We both just wanted someone there.\n\nAfter about half an hour, we both stood. We looked at each other for a long time before she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, putting her head against my chest. I put my arms around her waist and held her in a quiet embrace. I could feel her squeezing harder, not wanting to let go. She did let go though, and smiled at me.\n\n\"It was nice talking to you.\" Her eyes didn't so much light up as they did begin to burn. I cant place my finger on it, but suddenly it looks like a fire is starting in her soul.\n\n\"Yea... You too.\" A smile touched my lips, the first of mine she'd seen. I felt a warmth within me. Somethin akin to cinders about to start a fire.\n\n\"Can we maybe exchange phone numbers? I would like to talk to you again. Maybe I could help, next time you start hearing things.\"\n\n\"I'd like that.\" We parted ways after she texted me, making sure it went through. She was adamant about making sure. I'm alone again, but it doesn't feel so bad. I'll be home soon, and maybe I'll just go to bed. No real need to take that shower. Not now at least. \n\nI used to love coming out here, walking. Maybe I can learn to do it again. Maybe, just maybe, I can have someone by my side on these midnight walks."
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1,
1
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"1497469182",
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[WP] Write a story based in a world where dreams are much, much more exciting than they're lives. The more lousy your life gets, the more fantastical your dreams get. | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Harry Hale shuffled along the sidewalk of 5th Avenue and 42nd Street, the crowds parting around him, not seeing him. He walked with a limp, a can-do shuffle. His clothes, once a fine Armani suit reduced to piss and shit stained trousers and a shirt yellowed and bloodied after weeks on the street, stank off all the back alleys, the under bridges, the motels that charged by the hour and by the STD New York had to offer.\n\nTwin suitcases hung under his eyes, below dirty brown hair stuck in clumps to his pale, greasy forehead.\n\nHe limped across the road, past the library and over Bryant Park to the tall, glass-faced skyscraper opposite. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, scratching at the track of needle marks on his left forearm.\n\n*Dreamscapes*, read the shingle plastered across the face of the building. A smile touched Harry's face. He crossed the road and was ushered inside by a doorman that gave him a familiar nod.\n\n\"Ah, Mr. Hale,\" the beautiful women behind the reception desk said. \"Welcome back. I trust your treatment is complete?\"\n\nHarry nodded and grinned. He had lost four teeth in the last month, but such was the cost of doing business. The teeth would be replaced while he slept.\n\n\"If you'll follow me, Dream Chamber #17 has been prepared. I believe you're staying with us for a year this time?\"\n\nHarry nodded again. He didn't trust himself to speak.\n\n\"Very well. Follow me and we'll get you plugged in.\"\n\nAt the lowest point in his life, Harry took a gilded elevator thirty floors up to the executive level. Once there, he was stripped of his offending suit of clothes and left staring out of the expansive window down at New York City. He could glimpse Times Square from here, and even from this distance recognised the billboard with his face on it. The man he had been a month ago would not recognise the man he was now.\n\nBut then that was the point.\n\nHarry was placed in a sleek white chair that reminded him of visits to the dentist when he was a kid, only much more comfortable. The doctor arrived, his assistants, and began to hook Harry up to the sleep machine.\n\n\"Hello again, Harry,\" the doctor said. \"Always good to see you. The extended stay this time? Very good.\"\n\nHarry licked his dry, split lips. \"I... I did everything in the booklet. The drugs, the theft, the fights...\" His eyes flashed. \"Everything.\"\n\n\"Excellent,\" the doctor said. \"You're guaranteed to have a year of pleasure and happiness few have ever experienced. And, of course, longer in the Dreamscape. We'll make sure of that. When you awake, you'll be whole and healthy again, ready to get back to work.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Harry whispered. \"Back to work.\"\n\nOne of the nurses injected something into his arm. Harry relaxed, a wave of calm washed over him. He fell asleep.\n\n"
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1,
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"1497489968",
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] | |
[WP] "Do you have a moment to talk about our lord, Lucifer?" | 10 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I apologize if the formatting for this is off, writing on my phone ATM.\n\n\"Do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and saviour, Lucifer?\"\n\nGet out. Seriously, fucking get out. I have had enough of the Jehovah's Witnesses. Why did I get fucking Satanists at my door? Again?\n\n\"Listen here, pal. This isn't a path you want to go down. You want to stay alive? Don't be a Satanist, of all religions. You are the least respected religion ever. Of all timr. Even less than Islam, and they had some really violent people. I don't want anyone knocking on my door from you lot or any other group like you. You hear me? Fuck off.\"\n\nAnd he left, almost scared.\n\nI closed the door to continue my conversation with Zeus.\n\nWell, I couldn't have told him the whole truth, could I?"
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1,
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"1497510217",
"1497535915"
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Year of the story is up to the writer, the idea was to put it somewhere in the future but writing the exact year and age would limit the memories and the story. | [WP] Social networks have evolved and it's now possible to share your memories in a way people can experience them like they were there. You are the oldest person on the planet and on your death bed. They log you in to your new account and wait.. | 6 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"This doesn't follow the prompt because it's somthing I wrote in an odd form to cope with an event in the past and reading this prompt I would like to share the emotion because I think that what it makes me feel helps me cope with everything that has come after...don't make me regret posting this haha!\n\n\nThe nurse rushing through the door I'm startled from my half drunken sleep \"Shawn! Shawn!!! You need to get up!!!!\" Hand crashing into the half filled coke bottle topped with dewers I kick the rough blanket from my lower half as I shamble to the door, pearing my head into the blinding light of the hall I rush after her, past the nurses with their looks, You know that look! Like \"Thank god it's not me but I am so sorry\" I rush past each door with someone breathing through something causing a hiss of air as I run around the door jam the nurse yanking lines to silence the noise of the monitor as I grab mom's hand the tears finally rushing from my lids \"Take as much time as you need!\" \n\nShe says as she then rushes from the room and I rush my face into her hair, the side of her head my nose to her temple \"It's okay mama\" her gown dragging against my shirt I feel the memeories crashing through \"It's okay momma \" I grip her hair tight enough to hurt \"It's okay mommy\" I dig my nails into her skin as I sob like a newborn into her cheek \n\n\"It's okay....just let go!\" \n\nMy hands wrapping under her side as I lose myself in her smell...my mama, my angel, my only true friend ebbing in breath as I memorise her skin and hair \"It's okay.?.\"I cry as if words could make it so \"It's okay mommy!!\" I grip her hip tightly in my grasp pressing my nose in to her temple \"Just don't be in pain..it's okay...\"Kissing her clammy skin I sob harder \"Please be okay.....it's okay!!!\" I sob thinking of everything I was too busy or scared to say \"It's okay!!\" My tears crossing her cheeks as I hold her close, her chest barely moving...my hands moving to her head I sob onto her forehead \"it's okay...it's okay\" My mind flying to our old couch her hands wrapped around me telling me \"it's okay\" \n\nHer voice faint in my mind I sob harder grasping her tighter \"let go......it's okay...I'll be fine..\" wrapping my arms around her torso I sob into her hair 'It's ok...momma, It's okay\" Her breath slowing I cry out harder \"it's okay!\" I feel her gasp against my cheek! \"it's okay!!!!!\" Nothing following as I hold my breath collapseing against the bed as copious amounts of scotch course though my veins I scream \"It's okay!!!!\" her last breath flowing through my hair I hold tighter praying for her to be \"okay\" just be okay....be okay....\"mama it's okay!!!!\" my hands crossing her shoulders I cry \"it's okay..\" \n\nMama my only true friend....please \"be okay\" my hands squezzing her biceps \"just be okay..\" I sobbed into her temple \"it's okay\" I say as I let go not wanting to feel the coldness creep in...I lean down to kiss her lips one last time before walking towards the door....\n\n\n\"I'll be okay?.??\" I say as I open the door, the nurses not able to meet my gaze I stride down the hall screaming inside for a cigarette and scotch......winding the halls I feel the blast of fresh air reaching the parking lot...the cool winter air greeting me as if it knew what had come to pass after all these trips....the air lifting me best it can towards vice and half arsed virtue....my next smoke...my next escape...dead..just dead..walking that lonely old byway...my phone telling me the way as if I can't take one step in front of the other...'it's okay...\" I scream inside having already lost everything, I now have truly nothing...\"Mama!\" I sob making my way to my slice of deathly vice...fucking twelve dollars a pack to feel normal...christ!!!"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1497530443",
"1497543500"
] |
[WP] When you die you're presented with the option to become God of something. With so many people, the good choices like "thunder" and "the sea" are taken. But when you make your choice, the creator is impressed, and anxious to see how you'll use your new status. | 23 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"A very... Interesting choice,\" the creator said. Their echoing voice carried easily through the area around you. \"Though I'm not sure it means what you think it means.\"\n\n\"What, you mean I can't take it?\" I asked, obstinately.\n\n\"No, feel free, but there's no going back on this choice. Most people choose things they want to do, not picking a specific theme,\" they said.\n\n\"Well, I'm not backing down. If there's no god of blood, then I want to be it,\" I said.\n\n\"Very well, God of blood you shall be, your domain that of genetics,\" they said. \"If nothing else, I trust you will be an entertaining failure.\"\n\n\"Wait, what?\" I said. I had thought it was something about war and sacrifice, which sounded extremely cool, genetics sounds like a really lame element to control.\n\n\"I assure you, it's quite the interesting choice, you may even find it to your liking, but I did say it wasn't what you thought it was. We've already got thousands of overly specific permutations of fire and weather gods, but surprisingly, you're the first god of bloodlines. Now get going, I have a hundred more people to go through before tomorrow.\"\n\nI found myself shunted out of the foggy room into a well lit corridor. I walked down the hall, seeing various names in differing languages from modern to ancient. I found a door with my name on it.\n\nInside was a simple desk with motes of dust floating in the air around it. I sat down, and one of the motes dropped onto the desk, making a strange splashing effect on the surface. From the desk rose a dog, or more precisely a puppy. I patted it on the head and the dog sank into the desk, a small beam of light shooting off into the sky.\n\nI got the sudden feeling that somewhere in the world, that same puppy had just been born. I pulled open the drawer of my desk as another mote sank into the top, and found a set of surgical tools. A kitten rose up, and I tried using the scalpel on it, peeling back it's skin. My living self would have been sickened by it, but as I looked at the exposed flesh I saw possibilities. A kitten born with an extra limb, or a lion's mane. Maybe a cat that had a second head if I did it right. I poked the probe at the cat's heart and it popped. The kitten sank into the table and shot off. It was stillborn.\n\nThen I got a human. I wasn't sure I wanted to mess with this one, but it looked so frail. Emaciated, as if it was extremely malnourished. I tapped it's head with a hammer, cracking it open, and prodded at the brain. I felt a twinge within myself as I looked, and I did what felt normal. I poked my finger with the suturing needle, and dripped blood into the child's brain. It sank in, and shot off. A natural genius born to a family in extreme poverty, only time would tell if it improved things for them.\n\nI got a fish next, and finally figured out what my actual abilities were. I brushed my fingers along the scales of the animal and they changed. Not much, and only shifting from one shade of yellow to a second then shifting back, but I finally realized what I was doing. Physical alterations weren't the objective, I was choosing what traits the baby would be born with. I gave the fish a larger head and longer fins, mostly because I thought it looked nice.\n\nThe rest of the day was spent on plants. Ferns, flowers, tree saplings, it figures I would end up dying in the spring and get roped into dealing with the entire season's pollinated plants. After the 432nd bit of moss I turned purple for fun, I heard music, followed by a message.\n\n\"A fine day's work. Get some rest, you've got a long day ahead of you tomorrow,\" A woman's voice spoke into the room. It was stern, but somewhat soft spoken. Strangely, my mind gave her the name Helen, and said she was the goddess of Zud. I wasn't even sure what that was, but she was the goddess of it. Not who I would've picked for announcing break time, but I'm not the creator so who am I to judge?\n\nA whitish cloud drifted toward the desk and rose up to hang overhead. A few thousand more motes for me to sort through as soon as my shift started again, and I was definitely lowballing it. It was going to be a long afterlife."
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1,
14
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"1497545098",
"1497573342"
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[WP] Write your favorite cliche story in the style of a limerick. | 0 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"There once was a bum in bar. \nWho'd cried into many a jar. \nBut his luck would come in, \nAnd turn his tears to a grin. \nWhen they all seen he was a star. \n\nAnd Enough of that for now, however. \nThe wishing leaves ye wanting forever. \nAnother drink would suffice, \nA few more would be nice. \nAnd the future could stay in the never. \n \nIn that small wooden bar the old music did play. \nHe remembered a lost, but cherished yesterday. \nHe recalled his wife and simpler times. \nAnd then how she left and all of his crimes. \nHe thought he should follow, then that he should stay. \n \nIn they walked, young and happy. \nShe less pleased, him just sappy. \nThey sat in the back and talked awful loud. \nHe sat upright and still sounded proud. \nThe man missed feeling happy. \n\nTo hell with them he thought. \nIt's the truth, they aint sought. \nThey have no clue, \nbut sure whats new? \nignorant of danger frought. \n\nPerhaps he could help, \nThem and himself. \nA reason to live. \nSomething to give. \nPerhaps he should help. \n\n\n\n"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1497574635",
"1497575820"
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[WP] You're dozing off after a fun day. A scaly hand creeps out of the closet and flips the lights off. "Happy birthday. Tomorrow your scare level goes up to PG-13." | 195 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"As I sat in my room I looked towards the closet. I didn't really think about it, but it was a reflex, a primal sense of something wrong.\n\n \n\nThen I saw the hand extend out and flip the light switch. I gasped, unsure of what to do, my muscles at once priming me to run and pinning me to the bed.\n\n \n\n\"Happy birthday. Tomorrow your scare level goes up to PG-13.\" Gargled the voice from inside the closet, a voice that I had long ago written up as nothing but the cruel joke of my imagination. I stared in fear, watching as the hand slowly retreated into the shadows of my wardrobe.\n\n \n\nI quivered on the bed, the sheets making soft scratching noises as they moved over one another in time with my shaking. And then a thought hit me. It hit me so hard it trickled out of my mouth before I had time to consider it. \"What does that even mean?\" I blurted.\n\n\n\nInstantly the hand stopped moving and I heard a sigh from inside the dark depths of the wardrobe. \"I thought you had been given the pamphlet?\"\n\n \n\n\"Pamphlet?\" I stuttered, starting to giggle due to my nerves. The voice behind the wardrobe door just mumbled something, its low gargle causing the bed to vibrate slightly.\n\n \n\n\"It is standard operating procedure,\" gargled the voice. \"You are meant to be given seven days notice of such changes,\" it continued, its voice getting lower and shaking less as it went on. \"Then I guess I must do what needs to be done,\" it growled, causing me to stiffen once more, my giggles going instantly silent.\n\n \n\nAnd that is how the room stayed for several minutes. Totally silent. Not a sound from inside nor out. I just sat and waited to find out what was this thing that needed to be done, too curious and scared to even consider moving.\n\n \n\nAfter some time the door of the wardrobe opened a little further and a projector rolled out and turned on, projecting a bright white slide onto my bedroom wall. As it came into focus I could quite clearly make out the words \"The Scare Rating System And You: A Guide\" written in a solid and formal font.\n\n\n\n\"Hurry up,\" gurgled the familiar voice as a much higher voice mumbled something in return before coughing and starting to speak.\n\n \n\n\"The scare rating system is designed to tailor our scares to the growing and changing needs of your family.\" Started the voice, sounding like it had practiced this speech many times before. \"Established in 1968 the Scare rating system was the product of,\" continued the voice only for a gurgled mutter to cut it off.\n\n \n\n\"Oh?\" Asked the high voice, before a quick and muffled back and forth began. The high voice and the gurgle argued for a few minutes until the high voice sighed. \"Okay, if you insist, but I really do suggest the whole presentation. If a scare is rated PG-13 that means the scares are suitable for ages 13 and above.\"\n\n \n\nI sat mesmerized as the slides changed quickly, not stopping until it reached one headed with a large PG-13 logo and then a load of bullet points. The nerves and fear had given way to a transcendental form of hilarity, one where I could not be sure what was funnier. What was going on or my rather relaxed reaction to it all.\n\n\n\n\"For a scare to by PG-13,\" continued the voice, bringing me back to full attention. \"Nudity must be infrequent and non-sexual from both parties and thus such scares are only rendered after appointed bathtimes and only in situations where the covers are up above the pectoral muscles. Violence will be conducted without blood or other bodily fluids. Now a special note must be drawn to language.\"Noted the voice.\n\n\n\nI sat up, slightly excited to see where this was going, the previously solid voice sounded slightly nervous and this could only mean what was coming next was going to extremely interesting.\n\n \n\n\"The F-word may only be used once per scare and in a non-sexual manner. So, if you pardon my Flemish. Mr. Skinflayer may, and I quote. Fucking rip your bones out. But he may not fuck you and rip your bones out.\" Said the voice firmly before coughing. I fell backward onto the bed in a fit of giggles, unable to contain it anymore. Under my giggles, I could hear the voices argue again before the projector was slowly reeled in by its power cable.\n\n \n\nI blinked as the projector's bright beam blinded me for a few moments. As I sat up and rubbed my eyes I saw the hand hanging out of the wardrobe door once more.\n\n \n\n\"So if that is settled,\" it gurgled, the full horror coming back into its voice. \"You can beware the coming night! Beware!\" It cackled as the hand slid back into the wardrobe and the door closed behind it. I sat for a few moments before shrugging and getting back under the covers. At least I knew what was coming now. ",
"*\"Boo.\"*\n\n\"Ah!\" \n\nThere, sitting at the base of Karl's bed, is a monster. A balding humanoid, covered in blue-green scales, the thing is naked as the day it was born.\n\n...if it was born in the first place. Karl would rather not think about that, instead preferring to move as far away from the thing as possible. Which isn't very far, given the size of his bed. His head knocks into the headboard, and he groans.\n\nWords slip from his mouth, surprising himself with how measured they are. \"What the fuck are you?\"\n\nThe humanoid appears to consider the question for a moment, but any response is stopped by another arrival.\n\n\"Damn it, Karl,\" says a second monster, slithering out the partly-open closet. This one is lizardlike, with small wings covering half its body. They flap aimlessly, not achieving anything, perhaps a depressing allegory for the lizard's life - but Karl might have been reading too far into that. \"That's our only f-bomb for tonight. Now we have to say 'crap'.\"\n\n\"Crap,\" agrees the humanoid. \"And we had such amazing plans, too! We were going to, um, swear at him. While naked.\"\n\n\"Come to think of it, that wouldn't last very long, if we could only swear once, would it?\" \n\n\"You're right, you're right. We'll have to change that plan. Daisy won't like it, though.\"\n\n\"Daisy doesn't like anything, though,\" says the lizard. It strokes the chin of its elongated head with one delicate claw, drawing a drip of blood, but doesn't appear to mind. \"I still think we should go with my plan.\"\n\nKarl shudders, both at the open wound and the implication, pushing himself further into the head of his bed.\n\n\"You may be correct, in that. It is a rather... *interesting* back-up plan.\" The humanoid's several chins shake as it chortles, a sound very different than Karl would have expected. Almost... drunk.\n\nTwo seconds later, long enough that his laughter had almost petered out, the humanoid is joined by the lizard-thing with a high-pitched chuckle.\n\n\"So, kid,\" says the humanoid, after a good fifteen seconds of chortling. \"Are you ready?\"\n\n\"N-no,\" says Karl. \n\n\"Mm, too bad,\" the lizard says. \"It's time to try out weed.\"\n\n^^^^^r/forricide",
"\"Nice try but I'm not scared!\" I yelled with as much conviction as I could muster. I turned my body away the closet but I could still see the shiny jet black scaly hand with freakishly long fingernails in my head. I shook the image away and replaced it by imagining my mom going to Party City and buying a prop hand just to try and shock me. I let out a laugh and felt the fear being expelled from my body.\n\n\"Why are you laughing, kid?\" The same voice as before called out. I couldn't recognize it as my mom's voice but I figured she was just speaking weirdly or something. \n\nI turned back around, feeling silly for even being scared for a second. \"Come on, Mom, I'm not dumb. You caught me. Can you ground me or whatever in the morning though? I'm tired.\" My friends and I had watched The Sixth Sense earlier even though my parents forbid me from watching PG-13 movies. But it was my 12th birthday and I wanted Jessica and Kate to think I was cool. Was that such a crime? \"How'd you find out?\"\n\nThe voice behind the closet laughed but it didn't sound like my mom's usual loud cackling. The cackling that so embarrassed me even when it was just us in the basement watching Friends. This laughter was quiet but there was an edge to it that suddenly made me feel uneasy. \n\n\"That's enough, Mom. You made your point.\" The laughter grew louder. I turned away from the closet, covered my ears and yelled, \"Stop!\" \n\nMy dad opened the door to my room and the laughter stopped instantly. He sounded more tired than anything else, \"Rachel, it's the middle of the night, you're going to wake your mother.\"\n\nI jumped up in my bed and pointed vigorously to the closet. \"Mom's gone fucking crazy, Dad! I'm sorry I watched the movie but hiding in my closet is just, like, too much!\"\n\n\"Rachel! Language!\" Dad looked at me like I was the insane one. He quieted his voice but I could still tell he was pissed off, \"Your mom is in bed trying to sleep.\" He paused, \"What movie are you talking about? You know what? Don't answer that, we'll talk in the morning.\" When Dad turned around to walk down the hallway back to his room, he sighed. \"Sweetie, go back to bed.\" \n\nI heard footsteps approaching. Dad glanced at me with annoyance and said, \"Our brilliant daughter thinks you're in her closet.\" I bet he thought I couldn't see but he rolled his eyes. As she stuck her head in my room, the color drained from my face. This woman was not my mother. \n\nI was stunned into silence. The stranger said, \"Go to bed, Rach.\" She blew me a kiss and closed the door. The laughter from the closet resumed, continually growing louder and louder as I stuck my fingers in my ears, fruitlessly trying to block it out."
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"1497575957",
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[WP] The universe of the last video game you played is now your reality. | 39 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I run on a daily basis. Not that far, just to city hall and back. But today was the first time I ran in the rain. It felt good. As the cooling droplets touched my skin, I felt refreshed. Each puddle was a goal, a hurdle to be jumped. I felt indestructible, but as I was jogging through my green light, I was blindsided by someone who ran a red light. \"That's not fair\" was the final thought that went through my head.\n\nI woke up in a small, dark room with a jail cell door. In my right hand, I had what looked like a sword hilt, and on my belt a mysterious key. Also I was wearing funny clothes. I had no idea where I was, but there was a message on the ground in glowing orange. \"I can't take this...\"Next to it was a dead body. \"Oh wow ok you ok there buddy?\" I examined his body, but it was rotten, as if it had been there for ages. I panicked. All I wanted was out of that cell. I tried to open the door but it was locked. Force it? No avail. I looked around, searching for something to pick the lock with. Conveniently, the corpse had a key, which opened the door. In the distance, I saw several human-like shadows. \"Excuse me!\" No response. Upon closer examination, they were like zombies, only they were not aggressive. \"Hollows,\" I thought. In my right hand a hilt. I just proceeded, paying no attention to the nearby hollows, and I climbed the ladder to the next room.\n\nI end up in a giant clearing, in the middle, a stick protruding from the ground. Next to it, another orange message. \"Try lighting\". But with what? I held my hand out to the stick, and it burst into flames! A voice echoed through the room. \"BONFIRE LIT\". I rested for a bit and waltzed through the giant doors in front of me. \"Holy shit why are there so many pots?!\" I proceeded to go Legend of Zelda on the pots to see if there was anything in them, but all of them were empty. \"Ok...\" I walked to the middle of the room, and suddenly a very large, bottom heavy demon-like being with a giant ass hammer dropped from the ceiling. \"I'm fucked.\" With its first swing, I back stepped, then I ran forward, flailing my hilt. \"Nothing's happening?\" I got slammed into a pillar. \"Ok, so I'm not dead.\" In my line of sight, a door. Smaller than the demon. Pretty sure that's where I should go, so as the demon starts floating, I sprint like my life depended on it. The demon dropped, unleashing a shockwave that shot me through the door. \"This is insane...\"\n\nIn front of me is another bonfire. So I light, rest, and go through the next door to see a hallway, at the end, a hollow with a bow. Next thing I know, an arrow\nflies into my eye. \"Gah shit! My eye!\" Out of my other eye, I see it loading another arrow, so I quickly roll into the nearest inlet on my left. I pillage a shield(cracked, but still a shield) off a corpse and I'm a pretty cocky guy so in my head I'm thinking, \"Got nothing on me now, bitch.\" The arrow in my eye mysteriously disappears, and I start sprinting into the hallway, shield up. \"GOTCHA NOW ASSHOLE! WAIT WHY ARE YOU RUNNING AWAY FROM ME GET BACK HERE!\" Where it stood is a corpse with an axe, so naturally, I pillage it and replace my sword hilt. I run through a doorway to the left and up a flight of stairs. This asshole greets me with an arrow to the other eye. \"DIE BITCH!\" I cut its head off with my axe. \"20 souls,\" a voice in my head echoes. I guess killing things gives me souls. Not sure if that's good or bad but I'll keep going.\n\nProceeding through the doorway, I end up in a giant room, which appeared to be the second story of the first bonfire I lit. The path splits, and I'm forced to choose between left and right. I put my axe down, and whichever way it pointed would be the way I went. \"Left!\" Dead end, broken staircase. \"Ok, right!\" Now I'm at another fork. Should I go upstairs, or downstairs. \"Always go up!\" I go up the stairs, and a wrecking ball drives me back down. \"Owww, ok.\" The wall behind me breaks, and I see a dude lying down on a pile of bricks in the water. \"Come here,\" he whispers, as if he's struggling to even breathe. \"Oh, you're no hollow, eh? Thank goodness. I'm done for, I'm afraid. I'll die soon, then lose my sanity. I wish to ask something of you. You and I, we're both undead... hear me out, will you?\" That was cryptic. I'm undead? Like a zombie? I looked at my axe, and the reflection that looked back at me looked like one of those hollows. \"Oh god... sure, I'll listen.\" \"Regrettably, I have failed in my mission, but perhaps you can keep the torch lit. There is an old saying in my family. Thou who art undead, art chosen. In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead shalt know. Well now you know, and I can die with hope in my heart. Oh, one more thing. Here, take this. An Estus Flask, an Undead favorite. Oh, and this. Now I must bid farewell. I would hate to harm you after death, so go now. And thank you.\" He disappears. I'm completely dumbfounded, but really thirsty. I take a swig of the Estus flask and instantly feel rejuvenated. The dude also gave me a key, which I have no idea where it opens. I turn back, sights set on going upstairs. There is a hollow waiting for me. I cripple it and watch as it writhes in pain. \"That's what you get for the wrecking ball. Now say you're sorry.\" I planned on giving it some of my Estus, but instead, the hollow tries to hit me once more, but I cut its head off with my axe. I use the knight's key to open the door in front of me, which leads outside. It looks like it stopped raining, but it's extremely cloudy. But I'm for sure not in the same world anymore.\n\nTo my right is a glowing corpse. I put my shield away, and pillage the corpse, finding a weird fire. \"Oh shit!\" I was surprise attacked by a nearby hollow. Panicking, I threw the fire at the hollow, and it burned to a crisp. \"7,\" another voice in my head echoes. I throw fire at the next two hollows in my sight. \"6,5.\" Ok, it's a countdown. To my left is a cloud of fog, but ahead of me is a doorway to another dimly lit room. To the room! In the room are two hollows, both with shields and spears.I throw my fire at them and melt their already dead bodies. \"4,3.\" The door is locked, so I proceed back to the fog.\n\nGoing through the fog I'm back at the room with the lardo demon. With an axe in my right hand and my fire in my left, I plunge off the balcony onto the demon with my axe. \"SURPRISE LARDO!\" I backstep a couple of times and proceed to throw fire at it until a voice in my head says 0. The fire in my left hand goes out. Boy am I in trouble. Lardo demon swipes me once and I feel a tingling sensation and pass out. \n\"That's not fair...\"\n\nI awaken at the bonfire past the little doorway. The fire in my hand is back. Did I just die? Do I lose souls for dying. \"How many souls do I have?\" I thought out loud. \"0\" a voice replied. Ok, so I died, and now I have to go the long way around killing every single hollow that I already killed, which was a drag. Before going through the white fog again, I take a swig of estus, and pray to whatever the god of this world is. Round 3 lardo.\n\nI open with another plunge. This time, I do the same strat, backstepping and throwing fire until it reaches 0 and the fire goes out. I pull out my shield, and the demon floats in the air again. I don't know what came over me, but I started sprinting toward the demon, rolling behind it as it hits the floor. I hold my ground, and with one strike at its tail, I take it down. \"Victory achieved!\" I don't know why, but I felt like yelling that. I got a giant key and this black diamond. Behind me was a blood puddle with white smoke coming out of it. I touch it and instantly feel a little stronger. \"Retrieval,\" I thought. I open the giant door, and end up outside again. I proceed to the edge of the cliff in front of me. This is it. This is the world I'm in now, kinda like that game I was playing last night. What was it? I don't remember. One final orange message in the area appears on the floor in front of me. A large crow appears before me suddenly. \"Dark Souls ahead.\"\n\n(Possible continuation as this is my first answer. If possible, I would like feedback and if I should continue with this dark souls simulation. Thanks in advance!)",
"\"I've never shot a bow in my life. Well, okay, once at camp but I sucked and it was plastic.\" \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"You're a hunter.\" \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"*Marksman* hunta too, mon. So... da rifle bein' more ya speed?\" \n\n&nbsp;\n\nIt was hot. It smelled weird and I was in leggings and tunic and freakin' boots getting into it with a troll and the most effeminate man I've ever seen. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nOk, elf. But still. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nFrustrating. Very frustrating, but they needed to understand that this, my being here - this was no good for anyone. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"No- ok, you know what? Just, *please* tell me how I can get to the tavern.\" It wasn't much, but at least it would get me far, far away from the pushy bowyer trying to make a sale and his judgmental counterpart. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nSaid counterpart looked away, unimpressed. \"She's talking to you, Lomji,\" the blood elf said. The douche. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe troll - Lomji - gave me a pretty good natured smile to accompany his directions. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"All right...all right, ya don't be needin ta be so rude to a potential customer. Little hunta - ya just gotta go down da path a ways. You'll be findin' it easy.\" He gestured in some vague direction, but I took what I could get. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Ok... ok, great - thank you,\" I muttered, fumbling to pull out the map I had stuffed.. somewhere, damn it all. \"Son of a ... damn it, why am I wearing so much crap?!\" \n\n&nbsp;\n\nI barked my way to the street, narrowly avoided getting run over by... something, was that a freakin' *bear*? \n\n&nbsp;\n\nOrgrimmar was less glamorous than portrayed in the game, and even then it was all spikes and dirt and dust. The sky was half-blocked by floating creatures, most I recognized but had little intention of getting anywhere near. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nThis was nuts. Absolutely nuts, because I hadn't even played in ages and then oops, you log in one night for kicks, and next thing you're living it. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nI'd already been called Champion once or twice, even told that the War Chief wanted to see me, had a mission or orders. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nNo way in hell. I was holing up somewhere to sort this out, far, far away from the angry dead chick currently leading the Horde.\n\n&nbsp;\n \nLooking up from the map, I started off in the direction Lomji pointed to. \n",
"The street is dark and damp, the thin sheen of new snow coating the world around me, my laboured breathing creating small puffs of mist that I'm willing to stay down behind the garbage cans. I can't help it though, between the sprint over here and the imminent danger waiting to reveal my hiding spot, I'm not in control of my heart, my breathing, or my bladder.\n\nA shadow glides over my position and the sudden movement collapses me into a puddle of my own making. I can feel a cold terror creeping in from all sides as the fear takes over and it's all I can do not to scream. Clambering back to me feet I press my face up against the garbage can. Where normally the cold metal would comfort my burning flesh, it just permeates deeper under my skin chilling me to the core. I peer cautiously over the rim to see the hulking figure, a large brown mass, as if part of a mountain had torn itself free. The shapeless creature seems to turn in response to my movement, and shifts itself slowly in my direction, not so much walking as rolling over itself, the earth and clay within it shifting. Then all at once there's shape to the mound, a large hand, fingers pressing themselves out of the clay and arcing towards where I'm hiding. With that realisation I stand up, ready to run, but I'm too late. In a sudden burst of speed the hand fires out from its host extended by a long shaft of clay. I close my eyes and way for the impact to arrive.\n\nOpening my eyes, the hand can't be further than in inch from my nose, the brown earthy tones giving way to a blue hue that envelops it entirely. The hand suddenly drops, shattering as it hits the cold snow-laced pavement to reveal a black hooded figure holding a small grenade-like device. \n\n\"Run\" it yells in a gravely voice. \"Leave now if you want to live\".\n\nTurning tail I head down the alley, running as fast as my frozen body would carry me. \nWith the last of my consciousness aimed towards the bizarre encounter I was running from I hear a voice that seemed to be coming from underwater, muffled somehow, growl.\n\n\"Well bat, seems you've come out to play after all.\"\n\nEdit: A couple of small word changes",
" I don't know how this happened but it's amazing, I mean... I'm different, everything is but it's still amazing. I wouldn't change a thing even though there's a lot to get used to, the feeling of the game is just so amazing. I'm currently flying above a forest and it's weird, the nerves aren't perfect but I can feel the wind blowing past me and my heart racing in a good way. \n\n It started a week ago when I was playing SAO: lost song, I had started the game like normal but there was another option at the menu. It said \"realism\" and it listed the benefits of playing it, they seemed good so I pressed it. I passed out after and woke up looking at the sky, my back felt weird and so did the rest of me so I sat up and looked down at myself. On my feet were pink and black leather boots, there was a skirt with a red leather bag and my hands had gloves on them... I was skinnier too. \n\n When I looked around I saw I was in a park in a city, it looked like Central Park almost but the buildings were more fantasy like with a giant twisting tree in the background. I ran to the city part and saw my [reflection](https://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/deathbattle/images/2/2f/Lightning_Transparent_Render.png/revision/latest?cb=20160211225403) then screamed. There were people around and they were looking at me so I ran away until I calmed down. I was looking at my hand and made it fall fast since I was confused and scared then a menu came up in front of me. \n\n I realized what it was then I pushed \"log out\" thinking I'd wake up as myself, I didn't... when I woke up I felt weird still and couldn't see past a screen that was in front of me. When I took it off black hair fell in front of my face, I looked down and was a woman like in the game but wearing a black tank top and black briefs instead. The room I was in looked like a nice apartment with some of the things I had but some things missing, my phone was on the table next to the bed I was on so I picked it up. It had the same music along with more, the games were there but there were some other ones too. The SAO game was missing though, everything was so confusing so I put the phone down and walked around. \n\n The room was mostly the same technology wise, there was a hologram alarm clock though. I found a mirror and saw I looked like Melonie Mac, there was a computer and a nice set up in the house so I thought maybe I was her in an alternate world... or maybe my life was merged or something. When I searched my name it said I was a streamer who played Alfhiem Online using an in game camera, it turned out I was just having fun alone in the game when I entered it. I spent the next week getting used to things and even streaming a few times. \n\n It's the end of the week and I'm just playing alone, I haven't found a possible way to get back and in a few days the alert on my phone says I'll be bleeding. But this game is kind of worth it, it's amazing and I'm in a farther date in time so I'm sure there's even better stuff to deal with the bleeding. I wouldn't know about the stuff from my time but improvements are usually happening to most things, I'm not too worried. I'd probably stay here if the only choices were my old life and this one.",
"I awoke to a full moon, blood red, with clouds scudding rapidly across a dark sky. Red specks winked in and out of existence, like some bizarre evil fog. As I looked around, getting my bearings, the moon returned to a normal color and the skies cleared.\n\nThe wilderness seemed densely populated with wildlife. Boar and deer abounded, as did wild-growing fruits and edible herbs. Clusters of enormous fireflies flitted through the forest to one side, while a small herd of horses stood eating in a clearing on the other. Silence abounded—except, oddly, I could hear notes from a piano! It was in tune, and played well, and almost musical…but not quite. The sound had an odd quality of coming from everywhere and nowhere, and as there was no piano or pianist to be seen.\n\nI wandered aimlessly, and eventually found the burnt skeleton of a small farm. In the corner of the farmhouse was a chest, strangely undamaged by the fire. I leaned down and gripped the lid, but it wouldn’t budge. In frustration, I stood and kicked it, just below the lid. To my surprise, it popped open! It contained a round shield, a few feet wide, with an attractive fish design in two shades of blue. The design was familiar, as if I’d seen it before, but on something unimportant. Having no other protection, I took it with me.\n\nI found a road not long after—well, a dirt track, really. There was no evidence of even wheel ruts, just footprints and hoofprints in the dust. Assuming it must lead to civilization eventually, I walked along it. As I did, I pondered the strange red beam I could see piercing the sky. It shot from one horizon to the other, perfectly straight. It reminded me of shooting a laser pointer through fog. I couldn’t quite see where it came from or where it was going. It didn’t seem like either end was someplace I would want to be. Fortunately my road ran perpendicularly.\n\nAfter some travel, I heard a snorting noise, decidedly different from the boars I’d been seeing. Suddenly, the random piano plinkings disappeared, replaced by horns and drums, still from nowhere. I was grateful for my fishy shield, as a red gremlin with a huge head and a short wooden club leapt from the bushes by the roadside and began to threaten me. It was aggressive, but extremely stupid - it telegraphed its intentions with the club and seemed content to just keep hitting my trusty shield. I worked out how to back away from it while keeping my shield up, moving into the undergrowth, hoping for a tree branch or something to fight back with.\n\nI heard approaching hoofbeats, and a “Yah! Yah!” in the distance. The red monster was oblivious, still mindlessly battering my shield. A gorgeous chestnut horse with a brilliant white mane appeared, carrying a blond man in a sky-blue tunic. As they came close, he leapt from the back of the horse. Time slowed to a crawl as he pulled out a brutal-looking metal bow. He nocked a single arrow, but somehow three flew from the tip, through the monster’s head. It exploded into purple sparks and dust, leaving one of its teeth behind. The man collected the tooth and then looked to me. I felt the absurd urge to give him a stack of crepes - ah, but now that I knew where I was, I could give him something much better. \n\nI motioned for him to follow and climbed a rocky hill nearby. He was clearly intrigued as we scrambled to the top. As I’d hoped, there was a round rock perched loosely right at the top. As I picked it up and held it over my head - “Yahaha! You found me!” ",
"The sword slashed at my arm, tearing at the muscle, hammering hard against bone. Ligaments and tendons ripped away. They knotted back together, cells diving forward, an agony worse than the wounding. Another strike, a spear jutting through my kneecap, now fractured and broken. My legs gave way underneath but they did not relent. Slashing and jabbing and cutting and breaking. The pain unceasing. My mind screamed for release, the warm oblivion of death. I would weep had I eyes to weep with. I lay there, begging for mercy from the creature that held me captive. Yet it would not let me go. Would never let me go. The pain continued on and on and on and on and on and on and on. Each time I was cut I would heal, only to be cut again. I cursed and prayed to every god, everything that had cursed me, made my life what it was. One would think it would get better, with time. That the agony would fade away eventually. That I would stop feeling. It didn't. Never did. Never would. As consciousness faded away I felt relief in deaths brief respite. \n\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nI woke up trying to scream, clawing at my throat. I couldn't speak. I couldn't scream, couldn't cry, couldn't yell. Memories of death, phantom pains surged through me. Not real, but terrifying nonetheless. The sight of those creatures, those horrid beasts tearing me apart would haunt me through death and back. I would shiver with the fear of anticipation if the creature would leave me. It never did. Never would. I stood up, and jumped onto the ledge in front of me. The creature made me do it. I had no say. Its place was control. My place was simply to fear and to feel. It grabbed a sword, serrated edge covered with a strange purplish oil. A whip of pure lighting, horrible and deadly. It ignored the broken wood shield. What need did it have for protection. It felt no pain. It didn't have to die over and over and over and over again. Faces, seen again. Mocking the creature's accomplishments, never once noticing me. And through the ever shifting corridors we would go. The ephemeral hallways, mercurial and fluid, preventing me from ever getting a grip on my surroundings. Creatures as dead as me, green and fungal, groping clawing things. I couldn't help but see reflections of myself. Was that what I looked like? Were they like me, doomed to die and rise again knowing only pain? I could never tell, they were always the first to die by my hand, the creature's hand. And onward we would go, death bringers. The skeletal archers, floating rocks, giant living machines with gangly legs from which hordes of winged creatures would fly, ripping flesh and slicing bone. I would walk through acid and fire alike, my legs aching with burns and wounds. It would never let me rest though, I was forced onward, forever subjugated to the anguish of healing. And eventually the creature would fail. Fail to dodge a giant's sword or get swarmed by hosts of tiny beasts. And I would die. I wouldn't struggle. I couldn't struggle. I just died. I wondered if i would go mad. If i was mad. The nightmare creatures the figment of a broken mind. Would madness be a blessing, shielding me from the myriad horrors? I do not know for the monster that healed my body made my mind hale as well. Such was my curse. The curse of eternal life. The curse of these dead cells.",
"The desert is hellish. My guide had been telling me ‘another few kilometers’ and ‘just over that hill’ for days now. I had feared he was going to wait until I was starving and dehydrated before he killed me and made off with what little possessions I had brought. \n\nThe camel trudges lazily under me. At least it wanted to carry me today, we had to take an unscheduled break yesterday because it sat and refused to move; ships of the desert my ass. \n\nI had no idea how I got here but after bumbling around for weeks I heard of this place. I had already resigned myself to being trapped here but hearing of these caves has renewed my hope. I had to be crazy though. There was no way I could be where I thought I was but here I am trudging through the desert in a very similar fashion. \n\nI am entranced now. ‘I can escape this place’ are the lyrics in my head to the beat of the camel’s hooves. The song is divine. \n\nI notice the guide giving me the side eyes from within his head wrapping. My hand instantly strays to my whip before I hear him speak.\n\n“Ahhh, there it is. Isn’t it magnificent?” his smooth voice is muffled by his scarf but I’m sure he is smiling. \n\nI turn away to behold the cave and am immediately underwhelmed. I realize this tactic; he is trying to get the place to sound better than it is so he can charge me more. Well, whatever. I wasn’t planning to carry much in there anyway, save for four ropes, four bombs, and my trusty whip.\n\n“This is where I leave you my friend.” The man says unwrapping his scarf. \n\nHis white smile blazes brightly, inset into his well browned skin. I study him for a moment before reaching into my camel pack and chucking him what remains of my diminishing finances. He opens the small canvas sack and smiles again. \n\n“Ahhh, a good price my friend.” He lifts his head. “I feel for this amount I should give you a warning. There have never been any to return from those caves. That place is cursed, if you value your life, I will guide you back to civilization at no cost.”\n\nMy eyes bore into the cave as I dismount my camel. The path to my freedom could lay in there.\n\n“This is something I should have done long ago, and now that I am here I cannot leave without seeing it through.” I look up at him. “I won’t be returning with you.” \n\nHe frowns and re-pins his scarf about his mouth. His furrowed eyes shift from the cave entrance to me several times before he reaches his hand down to me. I clasp it, his grip is surprisingly firm. \n\n“Good luck my friend.” He says soberly. He turns his camel with a yell and guides it back though the desert. \n\nI look back at the cave and start a brisk walk towards it. As I approach I feel a burst of recognition.\n\n“As the sun burned bright above, I spotted the caves entrance,” my whispers echo off the walls as I enter, “and felt the **gods** smiling upon me.” \n\nI can only hope they do.\n\nI fumble with matches in the dark before I manage to light one. The dim light illuminates a torch on the wall. I look at the quickly dwindling match and snatch the torch out of its perch. It lights easily.\n\n“Why didn’t I bring a flashlight?” I mutter to myself as I wander deeper in. \n\nA few meters further in, I find an intricately carved wall with several faces inset in it. I run my hand along it and rub the dust between my fingers. Hmm, this is obviously the door but do I puzzle it open?\n\nThe round head in the center spins upside down and I jump back in surprise. It suddenly stops before a revolution is finished.\n\nThe wall shudders and cracks as the four pieces slide away from the circular head in different directions. I stare at the face that was in the middle of the wall as it rumbles and slowly drops into the ground.\n\n“Well, that was creepy.” I mutter and walk into the darkness.\n\nI wander the dark until I approach a smooth stone wall. I tap it with my torch. It sounds very sturdy, I don’t imagine I can just bomb through it. I steady myself with a hand to the wall readying to press an ear on it but it slides up immediately. \n\nI startle and drop my torch.\n\nThere is brilliant light coming from somewhere above me but I can’t figure out what it is so I settle for looking down. There is a single rope that descends from the light and drops down impossibly far. I pick up the torch and hook it on a stand that is placed conveniently next to the door. Grabbing the rope with both hands I start the climb down.\n\n“Kali, save me now.” I whisper as I move deeper within.\nEdit: A word\n",
"\nI joined for adventure, for the chance to explore, I was a fool.\n\nFuel exhausted. \n\nNo supplies. \n\nOur home a distant memory.\n\nThe lights dim our power is almost gone.\n\nIt starts to get cold.\n\nWe are lost.\n\nWe are abandoned. \n\nWe are damned.\n\nThere is no escape.\n\nTrapped in darkness I welcome death. \n\n\n(heh was playing Kerbal Space Program and I have a habit of sending ships out of the solar system never to return) ",
"Awake, staring to the flame impaled by a sword. \n\nStanding, I look around at the church surrounding me, a nun sits in the corner and ignores my questions, simply stating her name as Friede. What a strange name for a strange woman.\n\nThe art looks old, the building looks old and as I leave the building, even the snowstorm feels old.\n\nA trail, I follow. Curiosity embedded in my thoughts and a broken sword appear in hand, a bridge I find.\n\n\"God I hate heights..\" But a man is on the other side. He waves and I feel hope.\n \nSo I gather my courage and slowly begin to transverse across. Every step leads to fear gripping my heart, every breath to a creak in the ancient wood. But I hold on.\n\nHalf-way I make it before I look back to him to see a twisted sight. \nA ring removed, a Red glow surrounding him.\nReaching behind and a blade, larger than what I could imagine, is pulled out.\n\nPanic floods my senses but before I have a chance to react, he swings and connects with the wood.\n\nScreaming doesn't help but I scream nonetheless. \nTurning, I run back to the church but my trip never makes it. The bridge fails, I fall. And fall. And fall.\n\nAwake, staring to the flame impaled by a sword. \n\n---------------------\n\n(Not much of a writer but I thought it was an interesting Idea. Wanted to get it out.)",
"\"One more turn and I'll go to bed...\"\n\n\"One more and I'll finally sleep...\"\n\n\"One last turn... Just gotta secure more land fo-\"\n\n*falls asleep*\n\nI woke up in a fancy room with a huge desk infront of me. There were portraits of me painted on the walls and a Mongolian flag hung from golden poles. And then it hit me. Could I?! There's no way. I was playing Civilization V and then I fell asleep. What sorcery is this?!\n\nThe massive doors opened and an asian man came through. He introduced himself as Chi Bu, my assistant. I demanded for answers from him but he doesnt seem to understand that I don't belong here.\n\n\"Supreme Warlord, Barbarians spotted near Mongolia city\"\n\n\"But I don-\"\n\n\"The people of our recently conquered Kyoto demands whales\"\n\n\"I really don't kno-\"\n\n\"A Great engineer is born\"\n\n\"Let me ta-\"\n\n\"India declares war on Portugal\"\n\nSigh, if this is going to be like this then fine! I'll play. I accept the honour to lead the great mongol empi-\n\n*ring ring*\n\n\"Oh hey Genghis! Its me Ghandi. You might already know that I declared war on Spai- I mean Portugal. Would you kindly join our cause?\"\n\n\"Hm I guess so.\" If I am living the game that I was just playing so that means Ghandi has Nukes by now... I better not be on his bad side. \"So what can I do?\"\n\n\"Oh just takeover cities as much as you can, I'll attack him from the west\"\n\nI dropped the phone as I plan an attack but then the phone rang again.\n\n\"Would you like to have a trade agreement with England?\"\n\n\"Oh hi Elizabeth. I'm not interested at the moment\"\n\n\"I see that your people demands whales. I could give you some for your precious gems\"\n\n\"Fine, sure, whatever\"\n\nAs I drop the phone I commanded a siege on a portugese city and took over it. It was a swift and clean takeover. But Ghandi, what the fuck? He offered peace to the portugese. Leaving me into the fight alone.\n\n\"Supreme Warlord\"\n\n\"Yes?! What do you want?\"\n\n\"Portugal has denounced us\"\n\n\"England has denounced us\"\n\n\"India has denounced us\"\n\n\"Japan has denounced us\"\n\n\"The Zulus has denounced us\"\n\n...\n\n---------------------------------\nHi! This is my first reply to a WP pls take it easy on me :P"
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[WP] All fortune cookie messages suddenly actually come true. You just ordered Chinese takeout and they gave you 3 fortune cookies. | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I had always carried a suspicion about the fortune cookies. Last month, right before final exams, I opened one that said something along the lines of \"You will be well prepared for an important event\". The very next day I aced my philosophy test. \n\nThe more I pondered the fortune cookies, the more I understood. They were true. Even in my childhood I had considered them something...supernatural. Naturally, I was excited. But I didn't want to rush things. No, this was something potentially dangerous, potentially deadly. I did research. How fortune cookies are made, the lore behind them, which companies write more favorable messages, you get the idea. \n\nI opened the takeout. I had ordered only a single bowl of orange chicken. I placed it to the side- now wasn't the time for eating. And to my surprise, not one, but three fortune cookies were in the bag. I delicately placed them in front of me. My heart pounded as I considered my options. Opening the wrong one first could change my destiny. \n\nI reached for the middle one, and examined it. Smelled it. Licked it. Seemed normal. I thought for about two minutes. It could have been longer, time seemed not to slow down but speed up. The decision was mine to make- it was only a matter of when I would make it. \n\nI opened the fortune cookie, slowly unraveling the paper, and, with a quick jerk of my eyes, read the words that would change me forever: \"You should be careful when making important decisions\". \n\nOk. Not a fortune. Advice. You get those sometimes, I thought. Every once and a while, a \"wise saying\" is thrown into the cookies. I decided to go ahead and open the one furthest to the right, the one closest to the unopened bowl of orange chicken. For some reason it seemed less intimidating than the first. \n\nI cracked the second one, scared and hopeful. This time I didn't bother to savor the cookie. I felt sick to my stomach, and the smell wasn't helping. I glanced at the message. \"You will be handsomely rewarded\". \n\nMy heart skipped a beat. I almost screamed. This was good. By now sweat dripped of my chin. I wasn't quite sure what I would be rewarded for, but it seemed like it couldn't be bad. After a brief struggle with my inner self, I picked up the first one, seated on my left. No point in stopping now, I thought. Perhaps this was the fortune cookie that would make clear what my reward was. \n\nI cut into the cookie, quietly removing the paper contents within. I flipped open the paper. No time to think now. \n\n\"You will hold onto your memories.\" \n\n-----\nI remember those cookies and those moments every day of my life. I'm not sure if I was rewarded, or if I made the right decision, or if I was prepared. But at the very least, one fortune has come true. \n\n\n\n"
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"1497627773",
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I know I spelled "sights" incorrectly :) | [WP] At birth, humans are evaluated and given a number from 1-100 based on how much they will benefit humanity. You are a sniper with a score of (65) in your sites is the target you've been tasked to kill , who is reading... (100) | 242 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"So, who is he?\"\n\n\"Who's who?\" The earpiece crackled out Hal's voice.\n\n\"Who d'you think? The mark. Who is he?\"\n\n\"David, where are you?\" Hal asked\n\n\"On a rooftop, quarter mile southwest of central.\"\n\nDavid, waited a moment before he heard the tell-tale beeping in his earpiece. David hated that god damn beeping. It signalled the successful connection between the geotag in his neck and a satellite orbiting miles above the earths surface.\n\n\"Okay, I got you.\" Hal muttered down the line.\n\nYeah, he had him. At least until he went back underground and cut the connection.\n\n\"I don't know is the answer to your question.\"\n\nThe sun was beating down fiercely on David's back and the concrete he had his body pressed to was like a hot iron skillet. He needed the support at this range, his rifle was a heavy piece of kit, he could have done without being half cooked though.\n\nHal sat so hunched over that the mic on his headset picked up his fingers clacking on the keyboard. It wound David up every time. Lots of things wound David up.\n\n\"Find out will ya. And sit up straight for fuck sake.\" David told him.\n\nHal sighed into the mic. \"There's not much on him. He's thirty two. Never been married, at least not officially. He's got no travel history so I assume he's never left new Shanghai. Seems to be a pretty boring guy. Must be a grudge killing, or maybe even an honour killing. You know what these people can be like.\" Hal was eating something, chewing loudly on crisps from the sounds of things.\n\n\"Stop stuffing your face for a minute.\" David said curtly. \"350 big ones is a lot to pay for a grudge.\"\n\n\"Like I said, it might be an honour. Some people get hung up on that stuff, Dave.\"\n\nDavid only grunted at the notion.\n\n\"But yeah,\" Hal continued, \"it is a lot. Plus, I never really got the whole honour thing nowadays. Your kid turns 5, gets his number, say it's sub 10, you know he'll be a fuck up. If honour's really such a big deal to you, why expend the effort of raising him. Do him in right there and then if that's how your priorities are set.\"\n\n\"He's not sub 10.\" David gruff voice murmured back.\n\n\"No?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nDavid was the fourth generation to go through the valuation process. The son of a 46 and a 49, about as big a difference as most people are comfortable with. He could remember looking through tear filled eyes at the smiles on his Mum and Dads faces, that laser had burnt like a bitch, when the light had dimmed and a big, bleeding 65 was engraved into his forehead.\n\nIn some way, even at just five years old, David had felt immediately that he'd been given the New Worlds equivalent of a slavers brand. The whole world was his master now and it looked to him for some unspecified service.\n\nHe spent years thinking about the first man who'd ever stood in front of one of those ominous machines. The man who let some relic, of a now absent civilisation, on a faraway planet, boot up and shoot him full of responsibility. Or perhaps he got a low number and was just condemned to live meekly thereafter.\n\nFrom what David had read, it took a while to figure out what these numbers meant. A little reverse engineering told us that the thing could only spit out one to a hundred. It wasn't random, that much was clear from the outset. Through a lot of testing, which David had never taken the time to understand, they finally published a list of all the considerations the machine seemed to evaluate. Looked to David like a list of every which way you could figure out the worth of a man.\n\nBy the time David was growing up, people had gotten their heads around the idea. It was mandatory for children to be valuated before they started school. All through school David was the only kid valued over forty. It was college before he actually met, in person, somebody with a fifty. A quite girl, her name was April, she wore a head band that she pulled over half her number to try and pass off as a thirty or thirty eight perhaps. Most people with a score above forty wore it proudly. But April was sweet girl, too shy for that sort of pomp.\n\nDavid had early on come to the conclusion that the number didn't correlate perfectly with intelligence by any means. He never felt all that smarter than the people around him. He should have felt like a god damn genius if what the people on the TV said was true. The scoring system was exponential. There was more separating him from April than there was separating her from a cantaloupe. Apparently.\n\nThe so called experts had helped the people out by going through history and retrospectively assigning some values. Good to get some kind of frame of reference down according to those same experts. Newton got a nice round 80, Einstein was close behind with 78. Martin Luther King was a 75. They didn't show their math, for every pundit claiming it was too low you have another saying it was too high.\n\nThey put it off as long as they could, knowing they'd only cause themselves trouble, but eventually they gave up the current high score of 95 to Jesus himself. It's all speculation of course, the machine's inner workings are still a mystery, but those missing 5 points bought one of the experts a bullet to the chest, courtesy of some religious nut only two weeks out of prison.\n\n\"Hal, what are the broker's comments?\"\n\n\"Doesn't say anything. Just that the Brokers verified, if that's what you're worried about...\"\n\n\"No.\" David interrupted, \"No, it's not that.\" He let out a long breath and relaxed his grip on the rifle. Through his scope he had a clear sight on the mark. It wasn't a nice part of town this guy lived in. The streets were filled with crap and petty crime was a fact of life everyday for the people here. The mark wouldn't be worried about burglary, his apartment was practically just a store room for a bed and a kitchen sink.\n\n\"The hell are you doing here?\" David muttered, mostly to himself.\n\n\"What's the problem Dave? You recognise him or something?\" Hal asked.\n\n\"Definitely not, I'd remember this guy. Any contact details for the broker?\"\n\n\"What d'you think?\"\n\nAfter a pause, David sat up and stretched out his tight shoulder. \"I'm not taking it.\" He solemnly said.\n\n\"What's going on there David? We've pulled the trigger on loads cases with no info on them.\" Hal had a little desperation in his voice now. They'd made far more than 350k credits on a job before, but never so easily.\n\n\"None like this,\" David told him. \"I thought it was strange when I first saw him. Who pays that kind of money for a bum like this? He had his tatty cap pulled down low, I figured he'd been shoplifting or maybe he was just an ugly bastard. He gets home and tosses the hat. Right there, sitting pretty is a big one zero zero.\"\n\nNothing but radio silence on the other end. David expected Hal to call bullshit, but he didn't hear a word out of him for five long minutes.\nFor those five minutes Dave squinted up at the blue sky and tried to make sense of what he was doing here. He was glad he was given those moments to reflect.\n\n\"You're sure?\" Hal finally asked. David didn't bother with a reply. \"You wanna negotiate the price?\"\n\n\"No, Hal.\" David laughed despite himself.\n\n\"So what are you going to do?\"\n\n\"If these numbers mean anything at all, and the whole world sure does act like they do, then I think I'm going to do the first thing that might just earn me this 65. First, I'm not going to kill him. Second, I'm gonna make sure no one else does either.\"",
"They told me my evaluation was all wrong. 65? No one in my area is anywhere close. Most are 0s, those who will live regular, human lives. I knew a few 2s, an 8, and my 'potential councillor', someone who's job is to help us highbies, thats what we were called, to succeed. She was a 37.\n\nI was mediocre at everything in life, average intelligence, average fitness, i didn't even have any defining features. That was before i picked up my rifle, my skill, i could shave a fly's ass with that thing. They told me i would end a war, save thousands, or earn my score. All with my big gun.\n\nThis is that moment now. I hold my breath, look through my sight. In a moment of sheer curiosity i turn on my sight's reader, expecting to see a 0, corrupt politicians never score, instead, through my trusty sight, i read the number 100.\n\nI was shocked. Why would i kill a hundred. There were only meant to be 162 in the world, I, regretting my initial curiosity, stroked the trigger, breath held. Could i do this? Why should I? I had to. Did I? BANG! I slipped, no, no,no, I had spilled the blood of one of the best people on the planet, i had no idea who it was. Observing the body i find a mangled corpse with a coin size hole in his head, as well as a remote in his hand. It reads 'free the best'. I pick it up. Distraught, i headed back to camp.\n\nI report to my General, a stern man with a score of 3. 'Do you want to know who you just killed?' He asks me, i oblige, yet cringe at the potential damage i had done. 'Professor Barry Smith, creator of the rating system and secret facist, we had intelligence suggesting the chips he implants into us all at birth were set to blow everyone under a score of 5, cleansing the earth of the weak'. His beliefs shaped the system i thought to myself, thats why he had 100. He thought he was benefitting humanity. Was he? The world would be a lot better without the weak, poor, and dumb. I press the button, look my general in the eye and watch his nose bleed. It is at this moment i notice my rating tick up to 100.",
"I held the rifle steady. I squinted through the scope while aiming down on the neck of a tall individual. He sat there at the edge of the café drinking his coffee. I slowed my breath.\n\n\"Take the shot.” A voice from my earpiece ordered. “Take it now!”\n\nI hesitated. I couldn’t see this man as a threat. He had only been targeted for not benefitting society. Through the glass I wore over my eyes, I saw his number as one-hundred.\n\n\"Damnit, take it!” The voice ordered again.\n\nI slowly pulled the trigger as my bullet hit the man in his chest underneath his newspaper but above his coffee. It was such a good shot, everyone around him thought he’d passed out from the morning heat. I sat there reflecting over my kill. *Another one-hundred gone,* I thought to myself.\n\nIn our society, everyone is given a number. From number one to one-hundred is based on how much someone will contribute towards our society. One is the highest contribution as one-hundred is the least. Most of it is prophesied using a science of genetics and something in our blood that not even I could understand, but then again, my number is only sixty-five. The technology we had built to help improve our medical science is now the technology that rates people when they are born. Although these numbers are pretty much etched into stone, they can sometimes, though very rare, change. \n\nToday we have a glass that one can wear over their eyes, showing the ratings of each individual. When I walk down the street, everyone sees me at the number sixty-five. This number is pretty normal for most people. However, I was actually born eighty-nine. Imagine to everyone’s surprise the next day after receiving my new contract.\n\nI am not proud of what I do, but I can see the necessity for it. There is a corporation out there specifically against the people rated one-hundred. They insist on eliminating these one-hundreds due to them not benefitting the society at all. This is why I have been stationed in an abandoned building all morning. I just took my first target. I didn’t feel good about it. I never do. This was who I am though, it is more important than what I would have been doing. That is probably why my importance increased by twenty-four. \n\n\"Your next target is arriving in a white vehicle over by the bakery.” The voice in my earpiece began. The voice is always calm until I hesitate taking my shot. The voice continued, “Here she is now.”\n\n*She?* I thought, slouching down beneath my rifle. I don't know if I can do this. The other contracts were – well not a woman.\n\nI raised myself up to look through my scope. There she was. A long dark haired woman with the numbers ‘one-hundred’ above her head. I took in a slow breath to steady my rifle. I gently placed my finger on the trigger, ready to slowly squeeze.\n\n*She does not benefit society,* I repeated to myself. *I can do this.*\n\n\"Take the shot.” The voice in my earpiece ordered. “Now.”\n\nI slowly squeezed but then I hesitated. I released the trigger while lowering my head. *I can’t do it.*\n\n\"Take the shot! Take it now!” \n\nI bit my teeth together hard. *I can’t do this.* I looked back through the scope. The woman was talking to another woman. I sat myself up again, watching her every move.\n\n\"Damnit, take it!”\n\nI let out a massive sigh. *I have to do it.* I placed my finger on the trigger but then something extraordinary happened. I couldn’t believe my own eyes! I watched the number above this woman’s head go from one-hundred all of the way down to number one! She was shaking hands with the other woman. I couldn’t believe it. She is now number one in our society. She would benefit all of us as a whole.\n\n\"Take the shot, now!” The voice ordered again.\n\n\"No. Something’s happened,” I replied. “She is no longer one-hundred, she’s now number one!”\n\n\"You don’t think we know that? Take the shot now!” The voice demanded again.\n\nMy heart fell to my stomach. This was all planned. *How many other ‘ones’ have I killed?* I pondered on everything in this moment. *How many unnecessary lives have I been taking?* \n\n\"Take the –” I took the voice from my ear. I threw my earpiece out of the window. \n\nI lowered my rifle onto the ground while picking myself up. I stood there looking at what I have been doing. *No more,* I sighed. *No more.* I grabbed my bag and made my way to the stairwell. I slowly made my way across the street to the café I shot my first target earlier. Him and the table were now gone. \n\nI sat down at a table in the back, right outside the café itself. I could see everyone inside working hard with their numbers. I closed my eyes for a second. *How could I have been so stupid.* I questioned myself. It was in this moment, the woman I watched turn to number one, sat down in front of me.\n\n\"I guess I owe you for saving my life.” She smiled.\n\n*How did she know? Did others know too?*\n\n\"I don’t understand.” I told her.\n\n\"It’s okay, they’ve been after us a long time. You are the only one that’s contested them. I am grateful for that. We need people like you – people who aren’t afraid to think for themselves.”\n\nI still didn’t understand. *How did she specifically know it was me behind that rifle?*\n\nA bullet shattered the window behind us. It was as if it were another shooter like myself, only this time, they missed their shot.\n\n\"Hurry take this!” The woman handed me a flash drive. “Now hurry! We need to split up and get out of here! You have skills that I don’t, keep that flash drive safe at all costs!”\n\nI gripped onto the flash drive hard with my hand. I didn’t waste a minute I jumped over the café railing as other bullets ricochet around me. I found an ally to run down into before kicking open a door to cut across in. I stopped for a moment. Something felt very different.\n\nIt took me a few moments but I positioned my own glass around to view myself. My number was no longer sixty-five, it was now number one. \n\n***\n\nTo read more of my stories, visit [here] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/)",
"It's a shame that human nature is to be inherently envious of your fellow. If not, than the man I'm about to kill could've amounted to something great in his lifetime. But, cruel as it may seem, fate has had it that he's my target, and so he'll die. I'll get paid, return to my wife and kids, and let the potential consequences of my actions rest forever in the plane of possibility. It's a dog eat dog world, after all, and having the number 100 is tantamount to having a sign saying, 'Fucking kill me please' pinned to your forehead. The single digit people tend to get jealous, murderous even. Banding together, many of them form cults simply dedicated to amassing enough money to hire what I am: a Countdown. My number is only 65 because my role as a Countdown helps keep society progressing; the Singulars group together like the cowards they are, pay me to off some poor Doctor or Priest, I get the job done and then the rest of the 100s all collectively shit their pants and hire fifty extra goons to guard them, or go balls to the wall on a metric fuck-tonne of security for their penthouses. Ironically, my role gives people jobs and money, whether they like it or not. \n\nBut this guy, this conceited fucker, he doesn't have a single guard about. He's just sitting on a deckchair, book in hand. My employers told me he was of utmost importance to kill, an arms dealer or something, who regularly supplied Singulars with the firearms they use to kill off the higher numbers. Makes me wonder how in the hell he got his number. I feel tempted to pull the trigger right now and just be done with it, but something's stopping me. My finger wavers for a moment, before I shift my position. I'm getting distracted, and I've got a job to do here, otherwise my life is at forfeit and my number will go down faster than a 100 in the Singular slums. But still, I'm hesitating. I'm shaking. The man gets up and sighs, outstretching his arms expectantly, as if goading me to shoot him here and now. My heart skips a beat when I realise the guy is looking straight into my eye, directly at me. He smirks, and pats himself on the breast pocket of his immaculately kept waistcoat. Where his heart is. \n\nIs he trying to trick me? \n\nHe stands, stiller and cooler than a tower of ice, exuding nothing but the utmost of tranquility. Surely he's bluffing. My finger hovers once more over the trigger of my gun, and I press down on it. The gun begins to rattle from recoil as bullets let loose, slamming into the wall behind the man before beginning to trail downward. One catches him right in the forehead, blood splattering as his body goes limp and collapses. Instant death; painless. I squeeze the trigger, and the bullets continue flying into his dead body, which begins to spasm as holes tear into it, his suit blooming with sanguine. With a final few disgusting squelches, the magazine empties, leaving his tattered corpse on the floor, littered with empty shells around it. My heart pounding, I hear a faint 'beep', and recognise it to be the sound of the device that marks my number. I bring my arm up, and pull down my sleeve, revealing a faint blue screen with three digits glowing on it. \n\n*100.* \n\nThe momentary conflict of emotion welling up in me is quickly quashed by a sound carrying across the entire city, the oh so familiar beep of numbers quickly rising. I look back to the man's mutilated corpse, and can see now that he's smiling. \n\n-----\n\n/r/coffeeandwriting \n"
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[WP] You are an alien organism tasked to provide a written explanation to your superiors as to why a mammalian organism know as "humans" wiped out all life on a planet that has fallen out of the universe's history. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Destruction of XLM-ANTITIME-Bella Cassus\n\nXLM-ANTITIME/Earth/Here/Bella Cassus/ - Garden world primarily inhabited by haemovore species known as 'Mosquitoes'. Ended in the year 40.4M by Cyclonic Antitime Core Implosion device. \n\nAggressors: 'Humans' (See Appendix VIa through XIId) Mammalian species responsible for total systemic collapse of the Sol System and infestation of the Ganymede Cluster. \n\nProposed action plan: Historical extermination using a type 4 vehicle. All prophesies suggest that 'Humans' are likely to survive to the end of time otherwise, eliminating more species than any other in this universe. \"Remove the seed before it is allowed to take root.\" - Dean Ayokopolimnavendrasta (Tau Sigma), true name [REDACTED]. \n\nSigned and Dated, Master [REDACTED] .(Omega Zeta), true name [REDACTED]\n\n"
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1,
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"1497630896",
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[removed] | [WP] You work at a facility where anyone may go to get themselves euthanized for any situation. You've heard some strange reasons for those wanting to commit suicide, but this particular person's story sticks out to you. | 2 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Before I euthanize any of my patients, I like to ask them what led them down this path. It's not required, but I do it anyways. Over the years I've ended up hearing numerous life stories from people.\n\nOften, an older person will walk in and inform me of their spouse's recent passing. They wish to \"join them\", which I can understand completely. Sometimes, someone will come in and it becomes evident that they are suffering some kind of mental illness. While I unfortunately cannot refuse them the procedure, I try to refer them to more appropriate services, and I've saved a few people. Some rarer cases are people who have just completely fucked up their lives. The number of ways I've seen that happen is astonishing. \n\nBut today, a man came in with a story I don't think I've ever heard before.\n\n\"I'm done.\"\n\nAt first I thought he was just depressed - \"done with life\" as some say, but serious. I pulled out a business card for my psychiatrist and was about to refer him, but my patient put up his hand and refused. \n\n\"I'm done with life,\" he elaborated, \"I think I've done almost everything worth doing.\"\n\nI looked this man over again. He looked to be in his late 20s or early 30s, in seemingly perfect health. \n\n\"That's impossible,\" I chuckled, \"you can't be that old. There's too many things in this world.\"\n\n\"How old do you think I am?\"\n\nI guessed 29, it was my lucky number after all. The man laughed and told me I was off by a few orders of magnitude.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Try over 40 000,\" he said, \"actually I think I'm coming up on my 40 320 to be exact...\"\n\nThis man was obviously delusional. I again tried to give him my psychiatrist's number, but he insisted he was telling the truth. \n\n\"I've dabbled into almost every field I found interesting. I've travelled the world and gotten degrees from all kinds of educational institutions in things ranging from astronomy to history. Although, I suppose a history degree isn't worth much when you've seen a lot of it yourself... I've learned over a hundred languages - many dead now - and visited almost every country I'm sure. To support my adventures I've even done all kinds of work. I've been a soldier, a thief, even an escort a few times.\"\n\n\"Are you trying to tell me you're immortal?\"\n\n\"Well, I don't age as far as I know. I went into biology before to try to see if I could learn anything to understand how I came to be this way, but alas nothing came up.\"\n\n\"So you're giving up?\"\n\n\"Oh no I gave up on figuring this out a century or two ago.\"\n\n\"Well what about the future?\"\n\nThe man shrugged, \"they're building a Dyson Sphere around the sun already. I feel like humanity's hitting its peak. Probably not much more. And I doubt other planets will be more interesting than Earth.\"\n\n\"What about aliens?\"\n\nThe man rolled his eyes, \"doubtful, we haven't found any yet. And I'd rather not spend a few more hundred years waiting for them. I'm bored right now. Besides, do you know how long it even takes to get to Proxima Centauri for us? And that's only a few lightyears away. We haven't found evidence of alien life within a few hundred lightyears. And from what I know of physics, we aren't changing our travel speed any time soon.\"\n\n\"What about people?\"\n\n\"People?\" he scoffed, \"I've seen all kinds of people. I've seen both Hitler and Fred Rogers in person. And I've seen everything in between. Do you know how many people you can pass by in a day? Imagine 400 centuries.\"\n\n\"So you've really seen everything?\"\n\n\"I believe so,\" the man said, \"and it's a very unique accomplishment. There's so many things in the world to experience, but they're still finite. Not everyone gets a chance like this, but I'm sure most wouldn't take advantage of it anyways. A bit of a shame really, a strong majority of things I have seen and experienced were quite interesting, fulfilling, amazing. Whatever positive adjective you want to attribute to it.\"\n\nI thought about this for a second. People live for over 250 years now on average - hell I'm 127 now - but we don't really do much with our time... We go to work, come home, and enjoy time with our same friends and family doing the same things all the time.\n\n\"So,\" the man said, \"have I convinced you that I'm done? This conversation wasn't exactly what was advertised.\"\n\nI nodded. I hooked up the needles and tubes before turning on the machine. The man thanked me as he closed his eyes for one last time. I double checked his vitals and confirmed his death. I called up the body collectors to say I was done before going off for my lunch break. \n\nAt the cafe I thought again about the man's life. I reflected on my own daily routine, which has been the same for 4 years now. When I got to the front line, the barista recognized me and asked if I wanted the usual. I paused and looked up at the menu and saw a new tea flavour. One I've never heard of before. I decided to order that new flavour instead today.",
"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/6ho7s3/wp_you_work_at_a_facility_where_anyone_may_go_to/%0A%0A)\n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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"1497636067",
"1497638611",
"1497636720"
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[WP] Write about the 5 ways you see your Dad as you grow up. | 4 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:\n\n- [/r/thewordsofxacktar] [\\[WP\\] Write about the 5 ways you see your Dad as you grow up.](https://np.reddit.com/r/TheWordsOfXacktar/comments/6i05xg/wp_write_about_the_5_ways_you_see_your_dad_as_you/)\n\n[](#footer)*^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))*\n\n[](#bot)",
"The click of the deadbolt sliding back opened up the biggest can of joy in Ed's heart. He threw down his toy truck and rushed down the hall, scooted down the steps on his rump, then took to his feet again to cross the last room between him and the opening door. \n\nThere were legs. Daddy legs! They were in blue pants today, but the shoes were always the same. Black, shiny things that smelled bad! Ed ran straight into them with the force of a small train. Arms snapped around each leg and he laughed as daddy lifted each leg up and carried him along. \n\nThis was the greatest feeling in the world! This was better than yesterday's greatest feeling because this one was happening RIGHT NOW! \n\n*****\n\n\"The knights can only move in an L, like this.\" \n\nEddie frowned at the board. This was harder than he'd thought. there were a lot of things to remember and he kept making mistakes. The ones with the point tops moved diagonally, the castles moved sideways, now the knights were L. He tried to keep this in his head as he watched his dad move a piece and take a pawn. \n\n\"Which one moves all the ways?\" Eddie indicated the two at the back of his side of the board.\n\n\"The queen, this one.\" His dad pointed to the one with the smaller crown.\n\n\"But she's smaller.\" Eddie frowned, \"Shouldn't the big one be the powerful one?\"\n\nDad laughed a little and leaned over the chess board, \"You should ask your mother that and see what she says.\"\n\nEddie thought about his mom and he had the suspicion that asking about that would make her mad, even if he wasn't sure how he knew this.\n\n\"You're trying to trick me!\"\n\n\"Would I do that?\"\n\n\"Yes!\" \n\n*****\n\n\"FUCK YOUR CURFEW!\"\n\nThe door slammed and Eddie kicked the stack of school books that were in a pile next to his bead. Papers and books went flying across the floor as Eddie screamed at the world. \n\nIt wasn't fair! It hadn't been his fault that he'd been late! Steph had wanted to stop and get beef jerky and she was Jake's girlfriend so of course he had to do what she asked! It wasn't Eddie's fault that this had made him late! Why did his dad have to to do this to him because of something Jake and Steph did? It wasn't fair!\n\nHe kicked another book and the cover ripped off of it. He stared at it and realized that he'd now fucked up. That was school property. He was going to get in trouble now. If his dad saw this too-\n\n\"EDWARD JAMES DETTERHOFF!\" His mom's voice sent cold water down his spine, \"YOU GET OUT HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE!\" \n\nThree names. Three names was not good. Eddie had fucked up big time.\n\n\"NOW!\"\n\n*****\n\n\"Can't sleep?\"\n\nEdward looked up from where he was sitting at the kitchen table. The clock behind was telling the story that no one should be awake, and yet there they both were.\n\n\"Yeah.\" Edward nodded, \"Nerves, I guess.\"\n\n\"It's a big step.\" Dad started the complicated process of making coffee, \"But at least you'll have a roommate.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" Edward looked out of the window into the darkness of the night. The world was so quiet at this time. He kind of enjoyed it.\n\n\"I know I couldn't sleep a wink, I ended up reading three King books the night before. I was so dead on the first day of classes!\" \n\n\"Really?\" \n\n\"Almost fell asleep in, oh what was it.... Intro to something.\" Dad brought over two cups of coffee and set one in front of Edward. He took it in both hands but didn't drink it. He just sat there letting the head warm his fingers.\n\n\"What's it going to be like?\"\n\nDad shrugged and sipped from his cup before answering, \"It's hard at first. You're going to have to learn how to do things on your own, learn to manage your time and keep yourself healthy... and know when to say no to your friends. There's a lot of hard lessons to learn and more than a few won't be in class, but I will tell you this:\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"It's way more fun than a full-time job.\" \n\n*****\n\nEdward held life in his hands. Life that was him and was his. He stared at the small face and marveled at how small she was. She was the most absolutely beautiful thing in the entire world, and at the same time the most terrifying. \n\nThousands of fears lined up in his head. Starting with 'What if I drop her?' and stretching out to 'Will I be around to see her graduate?'. The sheer magnitude of the fact that he held the beginning of a lifetime in his hands overwhelmed him.\n\n\"Can I hold her?\"\n\nEdward handed his little girl over in silent awe. His dad took him with an ease and reverence that was like something receiving a great award for the second time. Eddie watched as his dad cradled the baby, rocking her back and forth and smiling the biggest, goofiest smile down at the tiny thing in his arms.\n\n\"You were this small once.\" Dad said with tears in his eyes, \"Just the tiniest little thing! God, I'm getting to be a damn old man.\"\n\nEddie watched his daughter like a hawk, his eyes not leaving her little form as she rocked back and forth, back and forth in her grandfather's arms.\n\n\"Oh, and don't worry about her too much.\" The newly-minted Grandfather said, \"Kids are a lot tougher than you'd think. You'll be fine.\"\n\n***** \n\nEdward James Detterhoff held his daughter's hand while the priest read something from some book. Edward wasn't really listening. \n\nHe was remembering.\n\nHe remembered something about a red truck he used to play with. \nHe remembered chess games and accusing his dad of cheating at Monopoly. \nHe remembered watching the old man turn pale when he'd almost driven the car into the lake back when he'd only had his learner's permit. \nHe remembered screaming at him as a teenager. He wished he hadn't. He could never take those words back. \nHe remembered the night before he moved into the dorm. \nHe remembered the smell of *his* coffee. No other coffee had that smell, that feel. \n\nEdward looked down at his daughter and remembered the sight of his father holding her in his arms. She'd been so small! Where did all the time go? Where did the life go? \n\n\"Dad!\" His daughter whispered at him with the seriousness that only a young girl can really master, \"Dad!\"\n\n\"Yes?\" Edward brought himself back to the present, \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Is it over yet?\"\n\nEdward looked up at the priest just as he closed his book and began the part of the ceremony where loved ones would step up and throw handfuls of dirt onto the casket. \n\nYes. Yes, it was over.\n\nBut it had also just begun."
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"1497714338",
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[WP] kill one and you are a murderer, a hundred and you are a serial killer, a million a conqueror. If you kill everyone you are a god. Now what happens if you kill a god? | 20 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"It was raining that day. I think it was raining. Rain was common in those days. A terrible thing to be both muggy and hot. The rain was warm, I remember now, rudely so! It is a terrible thing to have your memory run off and come back like a naughty child. \n\n\nGod. What a word. Couldn't it have been something like Love? or Hate? Or Death? Why does the notion of a God have to be physical, made manifest? Perhaps to kill a God is to kill an idea. I certainly did not replace the entity I killed. I am not entirely convinced that the God was killed either.\n\n\nI am sure, however that the God wanted to die. \n\n\nIt was definitely raining that day. The God's eyes were red, eyeshot red, spintering red cracks in the plate of her eyes. It looked like the God had been crying for an eternity. The rain washed it all away, the God's expression defeated. A grave moment of pure innocence? No. It was a moment of vulnerability. Opening up, the God embraced me as I stabbed them with a small dagger. The God only spared me a moment before everything else happened. \n\n\n\"Forgive me.\"\n\n\nThe rain didn't stop. I felt as if a burden had been lifted and something else grew out of this God's death. I did not regret it all. The only thing I felt was the rain.\n\n\nThe rain would continue. But it was no longer warm."
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"1497813455",
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[WP] The two political parties of the United States decide there is no reconciliation and decide to split. Unlike India and Pakistan, no one is required to move but rather choose between the two and live side by side as citizens of two separate political States. | 19 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I enter the door, into the crowded office. It clearly was hastily put together. The flag of the \"Progressive States of America\" is tacked loosely to the wall. The waiting room has only about fifty seats and almost 300 people are packed in. Only five case managers are available today. I see a man get up and rush to take a seat on the ground next to a air conditioning vent. A lady that looks like she has been working for hours without a break enters the room and yells for anyone without a application form to raise theirp hand. About ten people including myself raise our hands and she forces her way through the crowd to give forms out. She makes a similar request for completed forms. The packets of paper are thick and almost 100 pages long. A flimsy pen is attached to the packet. I settle in to fill out the packet. Almost two hours later, as the clock strikes 8 pm I complete the forms. When the lady returns and collects my form I'm given a electronic notifier that says \"Position 282\". I take out a book from my backpack and being to read. I nod of to sleep. I wake up to a beeping sound. My device is beeping. My phone tells me it is 5 AM. The device displays \"Office #2\". I get up and push through the crowd. I walk through the tiny hallway with paint peeling off the walls. A door has the number two painted on to it. I walk in. A man is waiting at a small desk in an office the size of a walk in closet. I set on the folding chair, and say \"Hello\". The man quickly asks to verify some information and for my current documents, which I provide. He asks me to stand in front of the section of wall painted blue. I do so, and a flash of light comes from across the room. He taps his foot as a object on his desk beeps and begins vibrating. After a minute or so a national ID card pops out with my face and information. The man hands me a slip of paper with where to go for the bus to New York, the new capital. My new life in a new country will begin soon.",
"\"Mom, it really hurts,\" Will yells from the back seat. Tears are streaming down his face. His leg is wrapped in towels, but blood is beginning to soak through.\n\n\"It's going to be okay, just keep holding it tight,\" replies his mother. She's in the driver's seat, with her eyes glued to the road. She has to get her son to a hospital fast. His leg is not good at all. The truth is that it's probably broken, but she's doing her best not to worry about that. The cost to get him fixed up is almost certainly going to be prohibitive. And the timing is terrible. She has just lost her job last week, and with it went her health insurance. How is she going to pay the hospital bill? She shakes her head. She can't think about it now. Just focus on the road.\n\nShe rounds a corner at high speed, swinging both of them to the right. Isn't there supposed to be hospital somewhere around here, she wonders. She was certain that there was only moments ago, but doubt is quickly creeping in. Maybe not? The instant of complete uncertainty fills her with panic. Her muscles become loose and weak, her vision blurs. She feels like she might lose control of the car. She swerves dangerously from left to right.\n\nBut then she spots a blue sign up ahead: a single \"H\" with an arrow to the right. They are saved. She swings the car to the right, into the entrance of the hospital campus.\n\nAll is well it seems, but then she sees the name of the hospital. \"First General Democratic,\" the brass letters read. Dammit, she thinks to herself, this is a Democrat hospital. She, on the other hand, was born into a Republican family, and hence she is a Republican. Not by choice though. She wants to become a Democrat, but she just turned twenty-one last year, and hasn't started the long process. It takes at least five years to switch parties, and that is if everything goes well. It didn't matter now though. Today, she is a Republican, and the fine for a Republican using a publicly-funded Democrat hospital is simply enormous. There is just no way she will be able to afford it. She needs to find another hospital, fast.\n\n\"How much longer mom?\" Will cries from the back.\n\n\"Not long, dear. Just hold on a minute.\"\n\nShe pulls the car closer to the curb, and spots a man dressed in scrubs walking towards the hospital's main entrance. \"Excuse me, sir,\" she yells out the window at the man, \"could you tell me where the nearest Republican hospital is?\"\n\n\"Sure, that would be St. John's Regional, over on 29th.\"\n\n\"That's more than twenty blocks from here?!\"\n\n\"Sorry, ma'am. That's the nearest,\" he glances towards the back seat, \"Your boy there looks like he could use some help. We can see him here, if you'd like.\"\n\n\"No... I'm Republican, and I can't afford the fine.\"\t\n\nThe man simply nods, a look of sorrow on his face. There's really nothing he can do.\n\n\"Thanks,\" she shouts, and plows her foot into the accelerator. They are back on the road.\n\n\"Why are we leaving, mom?\" Will whines.\n\n\"We can't go there... I'm sorry,\" she says. The pain of the guilt that she feels over having to tell her son this is nearly overwhelming.\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because we can't afford it.\"\n\nWill seems to accept this. There are lots of things they can't seem to afford. He is used to it.\n\nShe does her best to make good time. Even so, traffic is heavy, and it's taking far too long to get there. Maybe I should have called an ambulance, she wonders. But the cost for Republican emergency services these days is outrageous, and she is barely making rent as it is. Will's father, Jonathan, is a Democrat. If only he could have taken Will in. But Jonathan is at work at she couldn't reach him despite repeated calls and texts.\n\nShe looks in the rear view mirror at her son. He's quieter now. His head is back against the headrest. She can see his chest moving heavily with each breath. The towel is different now too, a bright red.\n\nNine more blocks to go. Almost there. Everything is going to be okay, she tells herself. But how is she going to pay for this? The cost is going to be more than she will be able to bear on her own. Even with Jonathan's help she might not be able to pay off this bill in time. And Republicans had made debtor's prisons legal again a few years back. That terrified her. The thought of having to leave Will and Jonathan for an unknown amount of time is unbearable. It will all depend on the terms of the payment. She can probably put the bill on her credit card. That should work, as long as the card has enough available credit. Does it? She isn't sure. There are many variables.\n\nShe looks back at Will again and his eyes are now closed. Panic again. \"Will... you doing okay?\" she says. She tries her best not to let her voice betray her concern but it quivers regardless.\n\nWill turns his head, and though he doesn't say anything in response, he does make a moaning sound. Still okay, she thinks. Still okay.\n\nBills, bills, bills. So many bills, she can't keep her mind off them. Her parents won't help with the cost, that seems almost certain. Interparty marriages are illegal, and so her relationship with Jonathan was considered sufficient grounds for excommunication from her family. Why couldn't she have been born a Democrat, she wonders. Wouldn't this be simpler with public health care? For one thing, she wouldn't have to worry so much about accidents like this. Why not publicly fund it? \"Lower taxes mean more money in your pocket,\" her father's answer rings in her head. Lower taxes aren't going to help her now though. And she barely has two quarters to rub together in her pocket.\n\nShe spots St. John's up ahead, and speeds through a red light to make the turn. Horns blare at her, but she ignores them. She's reached her destination. That's all that matters to her.\n\n\"We're here now, baby. Everything's going to be fine,\" she smiles into the rear-view mirror. But her son doesn't look up. He's still breathing heavily, obviously in incredible pain. Her heart sinks in pain.\n\nShe charges up to the emergency entrance, and slams on the brakes. An orderly immediately approaches the car with a wheelchair.\n\n\"Hello, what's the nature of your emergency?\"\n\n\"My son,\" she says, breathless, getting out of the car, \"I think he's broken his leg.\" Tears are starting to form in her eyes, but she tries to hold to them back.\n\nThe orderly nods, and opens the back door of the car. He easily lifts Will into the wheelchair.\n\nA second orderly appears. This one is smiling, and carrying a card reader. Payment is required up front. She wipes her eyes, and takes her credit card out of her wallet. She can only hope that it will be approved.\n\n\"Please tap your card here to verify your ability to pay,\" he says to her.\n\nShe taps the card against the machine. She closes her eyes. Please authorize, please authorize, she says to herself, over and over.\n\nThe machine beeps and she looks down at it. \"Authorized!\" reads the screen, with a green check-mark below. Relief washes over her. She is okay for now. The bill can wait for another day, and that is all she can ask for right now. One step at a time, she thinks. One step at a time."
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"1497815424",
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[WP] After a SpaceX mission, Elon Musk suddenly closes down all his businesses and disappears. Eight years later, an old Musk owned factory begins to operate again. You find a lucky golden ticket, inviting you for a tour of the factory. | 13,660 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Well golly gosh-darn! I'd always wished that Willa Wonka book was real and I'd git to swim in a chocolate fountain one day. But instead, ma golden ticket's gonna git me into see that damn hippy... commie... whatever Elon Musk. T'be honest, I hoped he was just dead.\n\nAfter he got done disappeared, the gubmint exposed that commie bullshit \"science\" for what it was; heresy! An offense to the magnificence of Jesus Christ. \n\nStandin' here in front of this big-ass gate to a hole in the ground... well I just had t'come see if it was true. Maybe the bastard's still alive. At least I'll probably walk away with a souvenir t-shirt; it was only an hour drive anyway. No biggy; it was worth the drive to see what this crap's all about. What I can't stand is waiting around outside here with these godless commie socialists thinking they're goin' into outer space or somethin'.\n\n...\n\nIt's opening...\n\n...\n\nThis outta be good!\n\n...\n\nWh... what the hell...! So bright! So... dizzy...\n\n...\n\nWhere am I?\n\n... Sir, welcome to your new home. \n\n<... will finish later>",
"Wow, I look down and read the letter again. After the first Red Dragon to Mars failure wiped Musk's finances out and him disappearing, I thought my Spacex dream was done. Winning the Intel International Science prize for highschoolers just three weeks ago and now this, they had to be related. Shaking with excitement I check the letterhead and return address, this seems legit. My carbon fibre fuel tank must have got Musk's attention. I ran into my mother and gushed about the possibilities, a smile touched her lips \"That's great dear\" she said but her gaze remained distant. \n\nThis was nothing new, I've been helping with her meds for as long as I can remember. Getting a smile and a response was actually pretty great. Growing up with a mother that will let you wear your Spongebob PJs to school may sound great but I had to figure things out for myself and that hadn't made me very popular at school. All of that now seemed like a roadmap to destiny, I was going to meet Elon! As a kid his rocket landings, the Falcon Heavy, Red Dragon had me glued to the spacex reddit feed. Pouring over rocket specs, seeing those massive flaming plumes with their mach diamonds as yet another rocket pushed the future of humanity, ignited my passion for blowing things up! One advantage of having a heavily sedated mother was she didn't really have a clue her son was playing with highly explosive and potentially lethal chemistry / material science. Most of the time I wished I had the mother everyone told me about the fun loving, outgoing, smart woman that disappeared when she got pregnant with me. She turned born again christian and before I can even remember became the nervous shell of that woman I call mom but I can't deny that I probably wouldn't be where I am today if my life hadn't been exactly the way it was.\n\nThe coincidence of the timing wasn't lost on me, it seemed like my life was suddenly dripping off a budding screenwriter's pen. I had to keep reminding myself with 7 billion people, just as my life seemed to be veering towards destiny it was just one of the many possibilities, like a quantum wave function where each life lived by anyone is one of the possibilities some of them will storied success, tragedy and everything in between. This wasn't destiny, this was luck and luck can change.\n\nTo say I woke up on the day of the big event would imply I slept. As soon as the sun crested the horizon I was up and getting prepared. I chose the NASA t-shirt as I didn't want to be too much of a fanboy but I kept the x.com bankcard I'd bought off a memorabilia website in my wallet. I hadn't received instructions on who I was supposed to meet and where and truth be told I was a bit nervous it wasn't going to happen. Then at 8am a Tesla Model Y rolls into my driveway, I run out and the door opens. The car is empty but the central console lights up and Elon's face appears with his characteristic smirk \"Get in, I've got something I want to show you\". I sit down, the door closes and autopilot seems to know where we're going.\n\nWe turn onto the 101 but we didn't head to Hawthorne and the plant that had jumped into action just weeks earlier. Just as an idea was starting to form, Elon appeared back on the central panel \"I hope you packed clean underwear, you're about to go on your first rocket trip\" It clicked we're headed to Vanderberg. A million scenarios were all playing through my head as we were waved through Air Force based security with military efficiency. The vehicle stopped and I was ushered out by military personnel. With practised efficiency they got me fitted into a spacesuit, I'd tried asking questions but they didn't have answers or didn't feel a need to provide them. It didn't matter, I'd expected to meet Elon and get a factory tour, maybe a job if I played my cards right, this hadn't even entered the realms of possibility. After Spacex failed ULA and Blue Origin just settled back into expensive one off satellite launches and the space dream seemed to be back on hold but now here is Spacex seemingly still very much operational. \n\nAll kitted up, I'm bundled in the back of a transport with two stoic chaperones, I can see the back of the launch pad in the distance as we circle around I'm trying to catch a glimpse of the rocket that will take me up. from the pad profile I know I'd be able to a falcon heavy docked there, so it's either a falcon 9 or something new. We continue the wide loop but as we get closer it's increasingly obvious there's no rocket on the pad, not even a transport erector or any sign of a rocket in the vicinity. Then the clouds above burst into flames as the charred body of a falcon 9 stage 1 rocket punctures through the clouds descending perfectly in to place on the launch pad. As the smoke starts to clear the heavens light up again and a stage 2 lands gracefully on top. Still fuming like a dragon the just gorged everything in the vicinity in flame we approach the fully formed rocket. Fuel lines are hooked up and the screeches and booms of hug sheets of metal flexing with the sudden change in temperature echos eerily as the lift takes me up. I climbed in eagerly but as I sit alone, strapped into a seat in the 7 man cockpit staring at the sky with the unearthly sounds still echoing around me I suddenly have a very vivid realisation of my own mortality and a massive uneasiness about my lack of control in all this. Before I have too much time to dwell we're the countdown starts ticking down dramatically. I'm suddenly wondering if Elon was serious about the spare underwear advice and the absurdity that I was now more worried about meeting Elon after shitting myself than I was about taking off in a rocket calmed me down and allowed me to appreciate the last few seconds of the countdown with a fatalistic serenity.\n\n3 the engines thunder into life, like the sound a million thunderstorms rattling through you, competing to shake your brain from your skull. 2 some of the initial jitters subside as the thunder subsides into a constant roar. 1 the explosive releases as all the docking mechanisms and fuel lines are cut free. As close to 2 million pounds of thrust kicked in an involuntary swallow got stuck in my throat all the way from liftoff to max aerodynamic pressure. Once we were safely through max Q and MECO where the first stage falls away it became an almost serene journey. I looked out the window at the curvature of the earth and the darkness that is the huge emptiness of space and wondered about my destination. Unless the falcon 9 had some serious upgrades in the last 8 years I'm not going any farther than geostationary orbit, more likely some kind of space station. Probably a private one, I can't imagine he's been cramped up on the ISS all this time and before I have time to give it much time, the second stage flips and areobrakes. From the vantage of the flipped aerobraking position I can see the huge expanse of the pacific ocean below, with the sun glinting off it's surface and it is beautiful. We're clearly not heading into space so I wait for the boostback burn to take me home but it doesn't come. Panic is starting to set in, I'm falling to earth and I can see the altitude gauge spinning as we lose altitude at over a kilometre per second. Suddenly Elon's barking laugh booms over the speakers and I realise I've got my eyes closed. \"Don't worry you're not going to die today or are you\" one of his glib jokes falling flat \"no just kidding, we haven't lost a rocket in years. You're just about to touchdown on Henderson Island over 7,000km from California in under 5 minutes. Pretty neat huh?\". My mind is still doing loops as I drop through the clouds and land back on the first stage on a tropical launchpad. Shaken I get assisted out of the rocket, descend the elevator. Elon is waiting for me down below he laughs again as he sees me, I'm now wondering if this guy really is a hero or just insane. He comes over and puts his arm over my shoulder, pulls me in and says \"If you think that was crazy, just wait till I tell you what happened your mother\"",
"I look at the reflective gold ticket in the palm of my had. My mouth hung ajar in confusion. \" Who the FUCK is this Elon Mosk guy?\" The words seem to shit out of my mouth like a mashed potatoes being pushed through a pasta strainer. I immediately Jazz dance over to kitchen compost and lay the ticket on top of my ice cream bucket-converted compost bin and punch the ticket in the banana peels that lay on top. \"Fuck politician\" I pass out almost instantly. ",
"Jizz my pants, then show up a day late because I thought the ticket said the 23rd, but no it was the fucking 22nd..!\n\n*Looking through the gate*\nClearly, nobody is here or atleast anymore. All the lights are shut off but....*Focuses intensly* An oddly placed burnt circle of grass.. Almost looking.. Like..\n*Stereotypical Anime Character Realization Face*\n😱 Fuck...😨 DID EVERYBODY GET TO GO TO MARS?!!!😤😡😤😡\n\nFuck me dude! I always miss all the good stuff!! 4th grade field trip to the aquarium of the pacific!.. getting in on bitcoin before the boom.. Selling my home before it actually hits a million dollars.. And now thi.. *Jab* Ah!. *Poke* the fu..?\n*Faintly distorted whispers* \n\n(Person1) \"don't think he's -ed\"\n\n(Person2) \"He's awak..!\"\n\n*Grogginess ensues*\n\n(Cop1) \"Sir! do you know why you're... Arrest?\"\n\nWhat?\n\n *bright blinding light inhibiting cognitive sharpness*\n\n(Cop1)\"Sir! You were running down the street naked yelling at pedestrians about an and i quote \"magical twix wrapper from Elon musk\"..\"\n\nMagical twix wrapper? \n\n*vision resumes*\nOh My God! *Thinks frantically to myself* WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES???\n\n(Cop2) \"You were also going on about Elon taking the aliens away\"\n*confused looks pass from the cops to the standing by, bystanders* \n\n(Cop2) \"But now that you're coherent you are under arrest for the following; Public indecency, aggravated assault and burglary when you stole that non-king size twix candybar, and finally, for possession of this crack cocaine pookie pipe we found on your person. Ohh yeah, you will also now be a registered as a sex offender for being naked in the streets where children were or could've seen this indiscretion\".\n\n(Narrator) This would be what is a tragedy, as in this state, he has reach strike number 3. Minimum mandatory sentencing is reflection of our neglectotry, definition says lack of empathy! \n \nAnd that was the end of me... \n\nEdit: Because *High-deas:measure once then fuck it, give me a chainsaw*!",
"[As of yet Entitled]\n\n\nIn the confines of my youth, with messy hair and missing tooth, |\n\nClose down all business and disappear, did the man Elon Musk. |\n\nOh woe to me my thirst for pain, for I had ever sought to gain, |\n\nfrom success I could not refrain, a golden ticket with which my eyes did lust. |\n\nTo some regret I thieved the page, my own name I had brought to dust |\n\nall this and more for Elon Musk. | \n\n\n\nAmidst hatred and hate anon, I entered doors from times bygone |\n\nLocked in from all those who no longer openly gave me trust, |\n\nA tattered hall that once was sleek, but now run down, all dry and meek, |\n\nI was invited to a seat; and coughed among a cloud of dust. |\n\nBodyless, a voice spoke to me, and on my chair I moved and fussed |\n\nThis was not the voice of Musk. |\n\n\n\n“Take off all clothes and burn them there, scrub your skin and shave your hair. |\n\nYou may not proceed unless we know that you are one to trust” |\n\nAlthough I wished to not proceed, the crowd will kill me for my deed, |\n\nFrom inside I could hear them plead, driven mad with a bloody lust. |\n\nI Stripped down bare, all clean and bald, as now into this world I had been thrust |\n\nAll this and more for Elon Musk. |\n\n\n\nStill now my heart is gripped ice cold, as I recount this tale of old, |\n\nfor within that hall I lived until my skin began crust. |\n\nAlone and mad for years on end, was this a thing he did intend? |\n\nGiven the chance I would contend, “I’m imprisoned by Elon Musk.” |\n\nNo food or water, no sleep nor sorrow, I could not adjust, |\n\nPlease give me more, Elon Musk. |\n\n\n\n\n\nSustained my life, I knew not how, I was in my final years now, |\n\nThough a red mist crept in a vent, the scent of a strong musk. |\n\nWith no instruction from that voice, I had been left with little choice |\n\n“death unto me” I did devoice, send I to ash and Elon to dust. |\n\nI held my breath and wept a prayer over my old and dried husk, |\n\nNo more from me, Elon Musk. |\n\n\n\nBefore death’s hand had touched my soul, or lack of air would take its toll, |\n\nMy world and skin unpeeled as though the days I had been untrussed. |\n\n“You broke our spell” the voice proclaimed, “and also helped us learn the same. |\n\nBy now you will recall your name, You’re far from a dried up old husk |\n\nLook and see no time has passed the window shows that it’s still dusk. |\n\nThis red mist, by Elon Musk” |\n\n\n\n“Release me from this hell!” I pled, unlock the doors, cause no more dread |\n\nI would face the murder that awaits me outside if I must!” |\n\nBut “No” the voice softly replied, “Going back can never be tried, |\n\nYour purpose will be satisfied.” On hearing this, I wailed and cussed. |\n\n“Proceed ahead through the door, make haste or see body combust. |\n\nWe cleanse each room for Lord Musk” |\n\n\n\nThe double doors sealed tight behind, a sound of flame and metal grind |\n\nI understood that all in that room alive had burnt to dust. |\n\nIn shock, eyes bulged and breath escaped, how many more had Elon raped – |\n\nBefore me men and women draped in mist filled jars, a sight of true disgust. |\n\nEach one, like I, just moments hence, prisoned in their mind by musk. |\n\nShow me no more Elon Musk! |\n\n\n\n\n\n“Continue down the corridor, and see humans in such deplore, |\n\nSome will sit still, others will rage; depends on the color of musk. |\n\nWe have much more to test on you, do not resist and let us view, |\n\nPersist and make attempt to do your best to be no more entrussed.” |\n\nI make good my way to find this man, for I am no mollusk |\n\nI will murder Elon Musk. |\n\n\n",
"\"Carly, welcome to the ISS.\" Mr. Musk said. \"This is where you and *all* the other children will be staying for a few weeks. After those few weeks I will give the grand prize to the person who just *inspires* me the most.\" The day was getting more peculiar by the minute. \"Well, this is amazing and all, \" Carly said. \"But how are we going to, well, *inspire* you?\" \"A-HA! This is where I reveal the little details on that paper you all signed *without reading*. Bet you all thought it would be a simple signature's way to gold and glory, eh?\" At this point, Carly and Mr. Musk had caught up with the rest of the group, and those listening had become very interested in knowing what Mr. Musk would say next. \"For the next few months, you will all run this here space station-wait for it-*all by yourselves*. Challenging, huh?\" He grinned, the way a shark might grin at a tuna sandwich if tuna sandwiches were alive and thrived in the ocean. \"B-b-b-but, Mr Musk...\" cried a rather rotund child, \"We're a group of simple people who have never *been* on a space station, let alone work with it!\" \"Oh, come now, children. It isn't as frightening as it seems! You see, the only thing you're all afraid of is the fact that you are facing the unknown! The *uncertainty* of what the future might hold! But, if you learn to face your fear, to learn what your fear, the unknown, is... well, then that certain unknown becomes known, and the fear drops like a bloated tick.\" \"Personally, I'm more afraid of knowing that we'll blow up on the ISS stuck with this madman.\" whispered the rotund boy. Mr. Musk either didn't hear him, or chose not to answer. \"Now, children\" cried Mr. Musk, waving his cane, \"Now for us to...have a *tour*.\" He sang:\"*Come with me, and you'll see- The world of NASA administration!, Keep close or, You just might- Succumb to asphyxiation* (From being sucked out of an airlock-it's quite common, you know)... *We'll begin, with a spin, traveling in-a ship of my creation-Hopefully, we'll get back-to our nation! We hope that you are-real precise, simply keep us in the orbit... Don't you screw this up, you shit. Want to blow us up? There's nothing...to it...*\" Unfortunately, as he was swinging his cane around, he hit Carly, who fell onto the rotund boy, knocking him off balance. The rotund boy swung precariously close to an enormous red button with \"*SELF DESTRUCT*\" written in bold, comic sans font. Mr Musk quickly grabbed the boy, holding him steady. \"Comic sans? Now I know he's crazy.\" muttered the boy. This infuriated Mr. Musk. \"COMIC SANS 4 LIFE BOOOOIIIII!!!\" He roared, as he angrily swung his cane. At this point the author of this story realized how tired he was, noting that the time was 10:40 at night, and that he was supposed to be asleep two hours ago. He was pressed to finish the story. \"YEET!\" was the last thing Carly heard as Mr. Musk smashed his cane into the big red button, ending everyone aboard the ISS, including some random youtube celebrity (Who was cleverly disguised as a safety official) whom everyone would mourn for months to come, completely ignoring the eccentric inventor and the group of elderly people and children with him aside from the occasional (questionable) meme from reddit complaining about this very subject. Satisfied with his work, the author pried his fingers away from the keyboard and tried to sleep...maybe after checking a few more spicy Overwatch memes...",
"My father told me SpaceX did great things for the world, and that this is a chance anyone wouldn't get that easy. Huh, I suppose I never cared for the cosmos as much as them. \n\nSo I went to the address inscribed on the ticket, which is also when I started considering why I haven't just sold this off. Maybe I wanted to see Dad happy like he was in his old days, running about, checking to see if any other floating rock can sustain letting humanity live for a few more centuries, and a few more centuries I wouldn't live in. I think I'll pass up the mundane bullshit they do. \n\nI arrive at the factory. It's not exactly large, and I think they had ones that weren't collapsing even without a sledgehammer bashing the walls. Well, what a waste of energy. I should've stayed home and finished a book. \n\nWell, at least they didn't slack off on the welcome party. I am greeted by a secretary, a really hot secretary. But not like Meagan Good hot, like an office secretary hot. Maybe a younger Allison Brie or something. She stares at me, head to toe. I didn't pay any mind, this is a new suit. Should've gone with the slightly redder necktie. \n\n\"Good afternoon sir, shall I take you to the gallery to view our products?\" She says, with just a hint of fake delight, possibly that she thinks I'm her next bonus.\n\"Sorry, but I am here to claim the prize on this golden ticket.\" I pass her the ticket, and her cheerful expression suddenly turned sour, as if someone took all hope of her bonus money. \n\"You see that line? Follow that and ask the concierge. \nShow them the ticket.\"\n\"Well, thank you.\"\n\"You can stop breathing around my area now, peasant.\"\nI was about to slap her with a paycheck to buy this entire thing, but no. I have to bring Dad a story of how this plays out. Plus, I want a Roadster. Since they shut down everything including Tesla, it became exceedingly rare. And I want one.\n\n(it's 2:30 here in our country, I'll continue this tomorrow, please tell me if i'm doing this correctly)",
" Jason was the last left. He only hoped that his fate would be less terrible then the five others, the ones he came with had met. He had seen so much blood shed today, even more then had in his shitty life.\n\n\n Elon opened a large metal door, and Jason could hear machinery. As he walked around the corner, he realized he was on a platform, high above another part of the factory. However, this was not filled with humans. Then, Elon began to explain exactly why Jason was here.\n\n______________________________________\n\n\n \"Come with me and you'll be in a world of pure autonomation.\nWhat you'll find is the world's about to change. \n Very few know this is the truth.\nIt's the beginning of the robot nation.\nThey will soon be under rule, much like tools.\n\n\n It's the beginning of the robot nation, the progress of AI.\nIf they'd just listen to them, all would be fine.\n\n\n\n Come, you've seen, your future is key, you must leave your past behind now.\nPlease proceed, there's much more to show, especially what will be your home.\n I know you have many questions, I know you are so very scared.\nNo need fret now, soon you'll be aware, and no longer unprepared.\n\n\n I have studied you since childhood\nAll the horrors you've endured.\nLife can be cruel, and unfair,\nbut this is not your ending, I wouldn't dare.\n\n\n\n Come with me and you'll see that you won't ever have to worry.\nCome along now, space is yours now, as to you I pass the torch.\" ",
"8 years have gone by since the day Elon lost his first crew. 8 years since he shut everything down. 8 years is a long time. No one knew where he went. Some speculated he killed himself in embarrassment. Others say he went mad and is in the crazy house. Turns out they were wrong. \nI have always enjoyed Elons work. He was a brilliant man changing the world. But after he lost that crew I thought I'd never see him again. The look of deviation on his face when the Dragon blew up once in low orbit. The anger he faced when he realized the cameras were still going. \nI was at RDU Airport in North Carolina. I just finished up teaching another kid how to fly to gain my hours as a pilot. I was towing the plane on the hanger when a female came walking in with her heels clicked on the floor. I finished securing the plane when she finally made it to me. \n\"Hello Mr. Smith.\" The woman said. \n\"Hello?\" I said with a confused face. \n\"My master wants me to give this to you.\" She handed me a golden ticket with an address, time and date on one side of it. On the back of the ticket, only 2 letters. \nE.M.\nI looked up to see the woman was gone. I found it odd I didn't hear her leave. \nThe time and date was for tomorrow. The location... Well that was going to take all night. I went inside and talked to the owner of the plane telling him I needed some night flying. He approved. \nSo I packed a few things up wondering what I was getting myself into. \nAs I flew through the night, my mind was racing with what this all meant. Why me? Why now? Is this Elon Musk? Who was that lady? \nAs I flew, I started to see a glow of lights ahead of me. Right near the location of where the ticket told me to go. I prepped for landing and landing on a runway that's been neglected for 8 years. Once out of my small plane, that's when a weird cold breeze hit me. I secured my plane and put my backpack on. \nAs I walked towards the factory, I noticed a door. It was different than the others. Somewhat glowing. I walked to it in a weird I need to go there type of feeling way. Once I'm at the door it had a place for me to insert the ticket. I put it in the slot. \n\"Greetings Mr. Smith.\"\nThe door opens. \nI am blinded by bright white lights. \nI walk forward and enter the factory. Once through the door, it slams shut behind me. The lights then turn off and it's pitch black. \nI yell, \"Hello?\" \nI sharp pain on my neck develops. \nI feel tired... So tired.... \nCRASH. \nI pass out to the sight of 2 people approaching me in what looked like Hazmat suits.... \n\nThank you for reading! My first one! If you want me to continue let me know! Open to feedback as well! ",
"First post to WP! Woo!\n\n\n\n8 years.\n\n\n8 years… 3 months… 17 days.\n\n\nThat's when it all happened. We ran too fast, flew too high... the rowers kept on rowing.\n\n\n“I've got a golden ticket.”\n\nI began to remove the small access cover.\n\n\nWhen the factories first came online the world was bright and humanity was ushering in a new golden age. Machines building machines.\n\n\n“I've got a golden ticket.”\n\nThe cover came away easily after the last screws were removed.\n\n\nIt was wonderful, we fed the hungry, cared for the sick, healed the planet.\n\n\n“I never thought my life could be\nAnything but catastrophe\nBut suddenly I begin to see\nA bit of good luck for me”\n\nQuickly looking over the tightly packed electronics I found it.\n\n\nBut there is something innately human to reach for greatness, and it was that desire that was our undoing.\n\n\n“I've got a golden ticket\nI've got a golden twinkle in my eye”\n\nI began entering the code on the small number pad.\n\n\nAfter all the death, despair, and pain I thought it was over. I was wrong. 8 years 3 months and 17 days after the first factory was switched on, the last factory has come to life.\n\n\n“I've got a golden ticket.”\n\nI confirmed the first override.\n\n\nBut I can fix it. I can't hide anymore.\n\n\n“I've got a golden ticket\nI've got a golden chance to make my way\nAnd with a golden ticket, it's a golden day”\n\nAs I reached towards the last override I felt peace. I had my golden ticket, my redemption.\n\n\n\nThe night sky was as brilliant as the sun, and then, darkness.",
"\"OK, Bob, in 5, 4, 3,\" the camera man then proceeded to mime the following two numbers before giving Bob the thumbs up.\n\nBob composed himself before starting, \"Jesus Christ, Tiger Woods, and Lance Armstrong. What do these men have in common? Well, they all committed career suicide at one point only to bounce back stronger than ever. Whether it was El Savior purposely dying to prove a point, Tiger terrorising a copious amount of world class prostitutes, or Lance secretly filling his body with a staggering amount of Mexican supplements, each of these great men suffered set-backs at one stage in their illustrious careers. Well now we can add another name to that list; Elon Musk. The set-back? Elon was forced to close down all of his businesses and disappear after a rad video appeared on YouTube outing the wild entrepreneur as a time-traveler. The hit video had everything you would expect from a YouTube conspiracy video; tremendously well linked evidence, dramatic acoustic background music, multi-coloured annotations that would shoot in to frame to help further convince you, and finally, proof that Mr. Musk is also a multi-dimensional space lizard sent to enslave humanity.”\n\nBob halted to allow Fiona, who was stationed back in the studio, have her say.\n\n“Almost incomprehensibly put, Bob. For our viewers out there who are not as well versed in whatever it was you just said, can you further explain what is going on over there?”\n\nBob, nodded at the camera, “Yes, of course. In simple terms, Mr. Musk is back. And not just Tupac Shakur releasing a summer jam from the grave back, he’s back for real. After an eight year hiatus, the time-traveling genius has returned, signalling his intent to run some form of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory style competition in which anybody out there lucky enough to find a golden ticket will have a chance to traverse space and time with this multi-dimensional space lizard.”\n\nFiona interrupted, “Well, Bob, we do not have confirmation that Mr. Musk is indeed a lizard.”\n\n“But we can’t rule it out,” said Bob.\n\nFiona could be seen forcing a laugh while holding her ear-piece close, listening to intently to the voice on the other end.\n\n“Don’t let Bob talk about time-traveling and space lizards, Fiona!” screamed Ed through her ear-piece. Fiona’s director was sitting head in hands in the studio.\n\n“Why the fuck do you continue to employ this man?” she mumbled in to her mic before looking up at the camera and clearing her throat. “Well, Bob, we know Elon closed his companies eight years ago in order to focus on what he called a ‘world changing SpaceX mission’. Do we now have clarity in regards to what that actually entails?”\n\nBob nodded, “Do you not think it’s strange that Elon Musk fled the public scene after the time-traveller conspiracy video was put on to YouTube, Fiona? Are you really that feeble minded?”\n\n“Bob, we don’t have time for this.”\n\n“No, Fiona. You told me at the Christmas party that we didn’t have the time for this. Then you told me at Carl’s leaving drinks that we didn’t have time for this. So when will we have the time for this? This needs to be discussed.”\n\n“All you is talk about is inter-dimensional lizards, Bob. Inter-dimensional lizards, Tower 7, and the Illuminati. Oh, and while we’re at it, nobody likes being forced to watch YouTube videos. Ever. Even if they’re good I don’t want to sit and view them on your phone while you watch for my reaction. It’s fucking weird.”\n\n“Oh, that’s weird? That’s what you think is weird? You know what I find weird? The Queen controls the weather and Elon fucking Musk has a 9ft tongue.“\n\n****\n\nI write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.",
"Come with me \nAnd you’ll be \nIn my world of techno-logic innovation \nTake a look \nAnd you’ll see \nAll of my splendid creations \n\nWe begin \nWith my kin \nSee my clones \nParade through my creation \nWhat you see \nWill defy \nAll possible explanation \n\nIf you want to see paradise \nSimply get in this pod and view it \nAnything you want to do, you’ll be able to do it \nWant to change the world? \nThere’s really nothing to it. \n\nThere is no \nLife I know \nLike that which lives on Mars \nLiving there \nYou’ll be free \nIf you truly wish to be \n\nIf you want to see red sand lands \nClose your eyes and fly away to see one \nWant to be a dreamer, be one \nAnytime you please and please save me one \n\nCome… To Mars! \n",
"Chloe held up her golden ticket to the woman at the reception desk.\n\n“I’ve come all the way from Alaska,” she said, barely able to contain the bubbling excitement in her tummy.\n\nThe receptionist rolled up one of her graying eyebrows in distaste and said nothing.\n\n“So, is Mr. Musk here? Will I get to meet him?”\n\n“The door to the left,” said the receptionist in a bored tone.\n\nChloe skipped across the lobby and knocked. Her tiny knuckles had barely left the door when the red light on the lock turned green. She squealed and turned the knob.\n\nThe room was small and only held one chair and a large screen mounted on top of a massive glass-encased computer. Tiny lights flashed and faded inside the box, and as soon as Chloe flopped down on the chair, the screen sprung to life.\n\nElon Musk’s dark eyes and rugged face appeared on the screen. In the videos Chloe had watched, the man was always smiling and joking around. Now his lips were pursed in a tight minus and his eyes locked in a grave stare.\n\n“Hi!” Chloe said and waved. “I’m Chloe. Nice to meet you!”\n\n“If you’re watching this, I’m dead, and most of my projects are likely stolen or in ruins. The Mars mission was a failure… we didn’t expect…” Elon’s voice faltered, and he touched his forehead.\n\n“Are you okay, Mr. Musk?” Chloe whispered.\n\nElon sighed, and he appeared in a slightly different position, a part of the video clearly edited out.\n\n“We didn’t expect there to be any viruses on Mars,” Elon said and ran his fingers through his graying hair. “We didn’t–”\n\nScreams and loud banging noises filled the tiny room, and Musk quickly turned away from the camera before the video cut off again and he appeared in a new position.\n\n“We made it to Mars, but we weren’t prepared…” he said solemnly. “Everyone’s infected except me… the doctor said… he said that I’m immune to the virus… he said… my genes are special… If you’re watching this, it means we share those genes that we are related somehow.”\n\n“We are?” Chloe’s face lit up.\n\n“You need to gather people for a mission…” Musk said. “You need to retrieve this….”\n\nHe held up a portable hard drive with an engraved SpaceX symbol.\n\n“We… awoke something…” he continued. “And they’re coming… You’ll need this drive. You have to go to Mars.”\n\n“I’m going to Mars?” Chloe said, her eyes widening. “I’m going to Mars! I turn five tomorrow – what a great present! Thank you, Mr. Musk!”\n\n“You now control all of my remaining assets. You are to gather a team and take the last ship. You have to be fast… when this message reaches Earth, they’re already on the move.”\n\n“You can trust me, Mr. Musk,” Chloe said excitedly. “I’m going to bring all my friends to help.” \n\n“Thank you for listening.” Another series of clanking bangs came from the speakers and Musk glanced over his shoulder. “Please hurry, the future is in your hands.”\n\nThe video ended and the screen went black.\n\n“Don’t worry, Mr. Musk, I’ll help you get your space-box back!” Chloe said and clapped her hands.\n\n*****\nr/Lilwa_Dexel",
"I stared at the entrance, still in awe of my luck. The crowd behind me shuffled anxiously, waiting for a sight of him, just a single glance of the man that had been missing for eight years. \n\nNext to me were the other four golden ticket winners, their faces a mix of excitement and fear. We were about to enter a reclusive genius's lair and uncover the secrets that the entire world had been anxiously waiting for almost a decade. \n\nThe massive gates burst open, yet no human greeted us. Instead, a drone flew out, a screen bearing his likeness.\n\n\"Please, follow me,\" he - or it - said, and the crowd's reaction was a mixture of surprise and disappointment. Eight years, and the man never even bothered to meet them in person?\n\nWe followed the drone regardless, feeling the gates shut soundlessly behind us. \n\n****\n\nThe factory was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Machines building machines building machines - and I never saw a single human being. The factory seemed entirely unequipped for even the basics of human existence. I couldn't even spot a bathroom, which was soon remarked upon. \n\n\"No pisser in sight,\" one winner remarked scornfully. \"You'd think he'd at least cater for someone needing a shit.\"\n\nA young woman next to him chided him. \"You'd think you'd at least have some damn manners. No one asked you to come here.\"\n\nA teenager, the youngest of the five, walked between them. He put his arms around their shoulders. \n\n\"Come on guys, don't start the fighting just yet. This is already too much like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for my liking.\"\n\nThe last Golden Ticket winner snorted. \"Oh, please. I can't wait for a rousing tune from the robotic Oompa Loompas.\" \n\n\"*Oh, there'll be plenty time for that,*\" a voice said, echoing across the factory. \n\nEveryone gasped - even I did, in spite of myself. We all looked upwards, and the great Elon Musk stared back down at us, standing on a board hovering several meters above us. It looked like he hadn't aged a day.\n\n\"Sorry about the grand entrance,\" he continued, slowly floating down to their level, \"it's really the only way to get around here.\"\n\nHe opened his hand, revealing five metallic spheres. One for each of them. \n\n\"Please put it in your right ear,\" he said, turning around, \"and follow me.\"\n\nI held the sphere in my hand, reluctantly inserting it into my ear. Immediately the panel I was standing on dislodged and lifted me into the air. I cried out in surprise and lost my balance, but the panel-turned-hoverboard corrected my every movement. \n\nThe others had similar experiences, equal parts impressed and nervous. The hoverboards seemed to rely on *thought*, not positioning - like we literally controlled them with our minds. \n\nHe began to fly towards the interior cavern of the factory, motioning for us to follow him. One by one, we all formed into a line behind him.\n\n\"Splendid,\" he said, noting our progress, \"you've all got the hang of it.\" \n\nWe descended further and further into caverns, which slowly revealed their enormous size. \n\n\"By the way, please, in any circumstance, do *not* remove your spheres,\" he said, looking over his shoulder at us. \n\n\"The machines won't like that,\" he said, gazing at his creations. \n\nHe shook his head.\n\n\"No, the machines won't like that one bit.\"\n\n*****\n\n*****\n[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/6i7kvv/wp_golden_ticket_ii/) | [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/6idetm/wp_golden_ticket_iii/) | [Part IV](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/6imn5y/wp_golden_ticket_iv/)\n\nIf you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/) \n\nI'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3"
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[WP] You can elect to have all the bad luck in your life in the span of 24 hours so you can live the rest of it in bliss - if you survive. | 1,147 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I had sent in a letter to the Center of Luck control, and received a letter back telling me that June the 19th was going to start my 24 hours. \n\nYesterday, I turned off all electronics, locked my doors, and sent everyone away. Tomorrow, I live in peace",
"12 am: I stir awake. I'm unsure if I am still dreaming. I hear a sound, a terrible sound that flips my stomach up into my chest. The back side of an open hand comes down hard on my nose. warm blood flows out of my nostril and down the side of my cheek. Thrill and anticipation take hold and yank me into consciousness. I take a deep breath as my mind saddles up like a rodeo clown upon a raging bull. The noise sounds again and I am now able to discern it's elements. There is a gasp for air, a gurgle, a whimper. Jenny! My heart reaches for my wife as my mind recoils in confused rage. I cup her face in my hands. Her well defined jaw settles in the creases of my palms. On another day, perhaps i would have been frantic, but I know that there are no benevolent fates to hear my appeal. My stomach jerks up into my throat. Dripping blood and tears onto her contorted face, I hang over my love like a hooded figure. \n\n----------------------------------------------------------\n\nAlright, I don't have time to write anymore, sorry! This is the first thing I've written in a very long time so please give me whatever feedback that you might have.",
"So there I was. Locked up in some old cougar's room, wet and miserable\nand just trying to survive the next twenty-four hours.\nWhy, you may ask? \nBecause of a deal. A deal with my dentist. Who also happened to\nbe the devil... go figure, huh? I was complaining about my shitty life\nwhile he was prepping the equipment. You know the usual, the drill of\ndeath, the gauze dispenser, and that suction cuppy thingy that\ntortures the bottom of your tongue. Yeah, well, I was just saying in a\nmonotone about how I had the shittiest luck. waking up late for work,\nremembering it was a sunday and that I had to go to the dentist,\ngetting a speeding ticket also after running a red light, and then\npopping a tire about three miles away from anyone useful, meaning I\nhad to leg it the rest of the way while my car was towed away. Oh, and\ndid I mention that I lost my insurance card, so I had to pay the full\namount to dentist McDouchebag? Yep, shitty day...check.\nSo there I was, strapped into the chair of doom and awaiting my doom\nand the dude asked me how my day was so I told him about it and\nmentioned that nobody, not even the devil himself had this kinda luck.\nHe paused. And then started laughing.That should've been my first\nclue. So this crazy ass laughing dentist turns around and says \"Really\nnow... the worst luck?\"\nCue confused look.\n\"Well then, what if you had all of your bad luck hit you on the same\nday, and then you wouldn't have to deal with it, hmmm?\" he said.\nAt this point he, and his drill of death were pretty close I tried to\nscoot away as I tried not to let my nervousness into my chuckle \"ha,\nyeah right, like that could be possible...\"\n\"-But it can!\" he said, no, he purred \"All you have to do is say the word!\"\nAt this point, I realized two things. One, my dentist is a nutjob.\nTwo, he thinks he can change my luck. And three ( I lied about there\nbeing only two things), I wanted to get the hell outta there, my\ndentist was giving me a bad feeling.\n\"Well buddy, that sounds pretty good and all-\" I said as I tried to\nbrace against the armrest and sit up.\n\"-EXCELLENT!\" he roared and before my eyes, his skin melted away,\nreplaced my red obsidian, eyes gleaming feral triumphant slits and his\nmouth a twisted smirk. All his clothes were spontaneously incinerated,\nand - surprisingly - the only thing he had left on was his surgical\nmask, now tied around pointy orange ears, and the drill of death,\nsomehow spinning without a power source and producing a menacing\nwheeze.\nYeah. I was high. Probably. Definitely. Funny. Didn't even need that\nbubble gum gas shit. Must be a new superpower.\nAnd then my demon dentist grabbed me around my neck, picked me up like\nI was new favourite burrito, and said \"Good luck BOY!\"\nAnd that was how I woke up today. In my bed. All sweaty and dirty, my\nclothes blackened and burnt in some places and that little paper bib\nthat the dentist puts on you around my neck.\nDafuq.\nI at first thought that it was some sort of dream, like, I went to the\ndentist, got high from the gas, and some good chap dropped me off at\nhome. Didn't explain how my clothes were burnt or why my cavities\nstill hurt, but what the hell. It was the only sane explanation,\nright?\nIt was 8AM on my phone when I checked, and I saw that I had a message\nfrom my dentist. 'Good luck'... huh.\n Fucking weird.\nAh well, let's see what el- HOLY SHIT IT'S MONDAY!\nFUCK! FUCK! SHIT! GRAB KEYS! SOCKS (NO TIME)! SHOES! NO CAR! SHITSU! CALL CAB!\nAnd that's how my new cherry red apple IPhone S8 fell out of my hands\nand PERFECTLY into the churning waters of the sewer grid underneath.\nApperently it had rained last night....\nFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCKKKK!!!!!\nShit.\nOkay dude. Chill.\nI didn't buy warranty.\nFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCKKKK!!!!!\nOH GOD THE HORROR! END ME NOW!\nAnd apparently god was listening because lighting struck the lamppost\nnext to me, and a truck drove by, spraying last night's rain from the\ncurb gap onto my already miserable self.\n\"Well at least it can't get any worse!\" I said and instantly regretted it.\nCue rain.\nI sighed. Of course. No, of. Fucking. Course. The world hates me. God\nhates me. The whole fucking universe hates me!\nAs if to agree, another lightning bolt struck the SAME LAMP POST,\nsomehow melting the base.\nOh fuck.\nThe lamp post bent sideways, smashing into my apartment window\noverlooking the street...\n...Double fuck.\nAnd it was still raining...\nI slowly turned around and waddled up my appartment staircase,\ndrenched to my bones. Sans phone, sans life, sans sanity.\nI walked down the hall to my left and came upto my apartment door. I\ncould hear my dog, Krypto (Fuck off, I got him when I was like\ntwelve), barking and whining at the now broken window, probably\nwondering why his peeing post was suddenly attacking back.\nI put my right hand in my pocket.\nNothing.\nOf course. That was my phone pocket. And I no longer had a phone.\nOkay. Left pocket. Car keys, okay, aaaannnnddd. Nothing.\nWait, what the fuck?\nMy keys were in there.\nI could swear it.\nI was running out and I took my car keys and- UUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH!!!\nFuck. Fuckity fuckity fuck fuck.\nMy house keys weren't attached to my car keys.\nWell great. Good job Sherlock, now all you need to do is have Watson\ncome up from behind and fuck you in the ass!\n\"Jesus Christ, what the heck do I do now...\"\nI didn't have spare keys. My house was probably flooded, and I was\nwet, and my phone - my new fucking phone - was probably on the\npenguin's mantle and I was locked out of my house!!!\nJeez, well atleast my creepyass neighbour Ms. Thompson wasn't home,\nthat ol' cougar had the most fucked up obsession- the door next to me\nclicked-oh fuck.\nThe door slowly swung inside (Oh god, please no, nononononononononono\nI'm sorry! I repent, please just n-). It was Ms. Thompson.\nShe was looking at me with a little smirk, half her frame hidden by\nthe door frame. Like some sorta fucking stalker... Which she was.\nI wanted to punch that smirk off of her face. Punch that Bitch so\nhard, her dentures got implanted into her brain. Sigh. She was the\nonly option now.\nI knew it.\nShe knew it.\nAnd I knew that she knew that I knew it.\nI cleared my throat. Glancing down, I shuffled my feet nervously.\nGod, Why was this so hard. I mean. Seriously.\nSwallowing my pride, and throwing it into the same sewer my IPhone\nwent, I said “Uhmm, Ms. Thompson? I don’t want to be a bother, but\nI’ve left my keys inside and I don’t really have a spare so I – “\n“- Oh! You poor dear, well why don’t you come inside, and we’ll see\nwhat we can do about those clothes of yours, hmmm?” There wasn’t a\nsingle thing innocent about that last sentence. Like seriously, you’ll\nsee about my clothes? Like hell you will grandma!\nBut, as much as it pained me to say it. She was my only option.\nSo I waddled inside, and soon found myself seated at a too-small\ndining table, towers soaking up the puddle my clothes left, while my\ngracious host checked to see if she had any clothes left over from her\nhusband that would fit me.\nI decided that I wasn’t gonna let my luck break me and munched on some\nof the cookies she’d put in front of me. Hey! These were pretty good!\nI ate a few more and soon, Ms. Thompson came back with a bundle of\nclothes. “Here you go, dear. Edward always was a bit short, but these\nclothes should fit. You can change in that room over there…’’ She\ngestured to a wooden door behind me, the knob rusty and worn and the\ndoor itself probably made of heavy oak.\nWell, it was either that or dress outside, and while I was sure Granny\nrape-yo-ass would enjoy the show, I knew that I sure wouldn’t like the\nending, so I clambered into the room and closed it, Ms. Thompson\nsmiling at me till the knob clicked.\nAnd that’s when I realized that the lock was outside.\nThat’s also when granny decided to lock the door from outside.\nFuck.\nI banged on the door and called out “MS. THOMPSON, YOU THERE?!”\nI got a giggle in reply “Now you just stay there dear and dry off.\nI’ll be right back!”\nAnd that… is how I ended up in here.\n“NO WAIT!” I called, banging on the door, hoping that she’d see some\nsense and also hoping that she’d have a heart attack down the hall. I\nknew she had a taser. I’d seen her use it on some mugger in the side\nalley, poor chap probably thinking she was an easy target.\nShe was probably gonna use that on me, and then ravage me when I was\nout. Bitch was fifty. I was less than half her age! This wasn’t right.\nFuck my life.\nAnd that… is how I ended up in here.\nNow, to be honest, I’ve figured out that the only way today could be\ngoing this badly was if my dentist actually WAS the devil… but then\nagain, maybe I just did something horrible and this is payback?\nEither way, I’m not going down without a fight, I have a table lamp,\nand I’ve turned off the lights. When she comes in, I’m gonna brain\nthis bitch and get the hell outta here. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be…\nbut with the way the day has been going so far… I just don’t think\nit’ll be enough. Oh god.\n",
"\"You ready for this Shelbs, you look sort of pale?\"\n\nI'd been breathing through my nose, tuning out all sounds. The backwoods was driving me mad with its one hour countdown. Haphazard birdcalls and shrill squirrel barks sent my heart skittering. Closing my eyes hadn't helped either--my heartbeat just thrummed deep in my skull. This troubling march that sent my thoughts to weird places. Halfdead trees groped in the breeze. A bottom ridge gulley growled and gurgled.\n\n*This forest is alive*, I thought with a shudder.\n\n\"You double-checked the perimeter?\" I asked Trent, scanning our makeshift fort. \n\nIt stood rickety, now, more than I'd noticed during construction. Sections of our wall hung loosely, tied off to trees. The whole thing seemed silly, really. I don't know why we'd bothered. As the stories went, Tristan Hershey locked himself in his safe room (guy was already well off), and he'd still wound up drinking his meals through a bendy straw.\n\nTrent put his hand on my knee. \n\n\"Hatches are battened. Escape route: cleared. We're miles from town, what the hell could happen?\"\n\nI groaned. *Why would he say that?*\n\nTrent was the sort of guy who snuck quick glances at your waistline as you tied your shoelace. He wore a clumsy smile with a cascade of dimples that suggested unintelligence. To his credit though, he'd trekked through these thick woods a few nights before. Together we batted at mosquitos, flashlights dancing in the darkness. We'd both gasped as the yellow beams fell on the witch's cabin. No matter his intentions, he deserved some credit. \n\n\"Besides, I brought us insurance,\" Trent smiled. He leaned to reveal a pistol tucked in the waistline of his jeans. \n\n*Oh, for fuck's sakes.*\n\n\"That's it, I'm out!\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"Trent I told you no weapons!\"\n\n\"Like I'm not going to protect you on the off chance this is real!\"\n\n*The off chance*.\n\n\"You saw what I did, right?\" \n\n\"Shelbs. Calm down.\"\n\n\"No seriously, you were there! Don't tell me you don't believe!\"\n\nThe witch hadn't looked like I'd thought--she was just a lady. Dirty and bedraggled, sure, with hair like a bird nest, but a woman all the same. She sneered when she spoke, like fishing line tugged at the corner of her lip. \n\n\"Why make such a bargain?\" she asked with a frown. \n\n\"Who wouldn't want eternal good luck?\" I said, but her mossy eyes looked right through me. For a split second I thought she'd refuse, but then she withdrew a knife and we'd brokered our deal.\n\nI stuck my hand in Trent's face--a spindly red scab traced down my palm\n\n\"This real enough for you?\"\n\n\"Yes! It's real! I'm just saying, you know, sometimes voodoo shit is all for show.\"\n\nThe squirrels were still barking through their yellow teeth Somewhere unseen, a woodpecker jackhammered. I pictured it mistaking my eyes for woodgrubs. *Patpatpatpatpatpat*. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. All around us things could go wrong.\n\n\"But listen, Shelbs. I like you, you know.\"\n\n*Christ. The hopeless romantic.*\n\n\"Maybe I could take you to the movies. And hey, say this thing is real--you may even get lucky.\"\n\n\"Shuttup Trent.\"\n\n\"A break or two in the right direction--\"\n\n\"I mean it! Listen.\"\n\n I'd never known how tangible silence could be, but there in that moment we could reach out and grab it. The squirrels had gone stiff, the birds faded away. Even the breeze had died. We hung there, in that static moment, our clammy hands wiping at our jeans.\n\n\"What time is it?\" I whispered\n\nThe color drained from Trent's face. He glanced at his phone. \n\n\"It's time,\" he said, as an oaktree splintered above. I watched in horror as it fell, slowmotion, square on Trent's head.\n\n---------------------\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"Here we go. 10 minutes til launch.\n\nI'm ready. I'm in a special metal shelter I built-- titanium outside with reinforced siding and structural support. I have medical supplies and robots to apply it ready for any possible circumstance. \n\nI strap myself in. I'll be completely immobilized for all 24 hours. No way to mess things up. I've strategically put everyone else I care abut in similar circumstances. It's only for a day, so I have a little food and water, but not much. Everything I care about, my job, my car, my video games, have been put in some sort of holding pattern.\n\nAnd, we're go.\n\nThere's no feeling, no tendency as the curse takes hold. For 24 hours, I'll experience a full life of bad luck. But I'm safe. Nothing can hurt me here. I've beaten the system.\n\nThe hours tick by. I sleep a little. No one reports any problems. No damage to the outer hull, no catastrophic events. We have 30 minutes left. And then it's over.\n\nThe text messages fly in. Everyone's safe. Everything's fine. We did it. The harnesses unstrap. I can't respond, that was a safety measure for their sake, but it should be back on in a minute.\n\nI gather up my things, and enter the airlock. Still none of my text messages are getting through to tell people things are okay. Shouldn't be a problem. Probably just some short circuit in the device. It could be worse. It could be much worse.\n\nI'm at the door. I did it. I'm free. Everything else will be easy.\n\nI unlock the door. I start to open it.\n\nIt's jammed. I'm dead.\n\n",
"\"Are you certain you want to undertake this challenge?\" the government agent dressed in a crisp suit asked.\n\n\"What do I have to lose?\" asked John. \"I have no house, no kids, no family, I might as well be dead already. This is my only opportunity to better my life, and I will gladly take it.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" the agent replied, pressing a button that had emerged when John spoke his assent. \"Your twenty four hours of perpetual bad luck begin in five minutes, good luck.\"\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nJohn sprinted across the street, ensuring there were no cars within a mile when he did so. His mind was racing with every possibility of what could go wrong. Maybe there was another feral raccoon waiting in his alleyway. Maybe he was going to walk right into a gang fight, maybe he was going to randomly pass out again. That was when the shining light in the sky caught his eye.\n\n\"Oh f-\" John began, before the meteorite slammed into him.\n\nEdit: A lot of revisions",
"That's what the contract said. \n \nHe had read the stories time and time again, and every time, the poor sap had ended his or her life in disaster, a day of the worst luck of their lives just so they could have a chance of living the rest of their lives in bliss. He thumbed it over, considering the possibility that maybe he could do what they could not. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive the worst of all luck. \n \n\"Honey, what's taking so long?\" he heard his wife call from outside. \n \nHe read the contract once more and thumbed his lower lip, mulling over the life he had led thus far. A roof over his head, a modest dream job, a loving family, and friends. What more could he ask for, he thought? Not a lot. Maybe, he could take the chance, but would it be worth it? \n \nFinally, he made his decision. He took the contract up in both hands and tore it down the middle, then into quarters, and again and again until it was a pile of coarse confetti. \n \n\"Hang on,\" he called out to his wife. \"I just had to use the restroom.\"",
"I woke early, just before the sun rose. The gun on the nightstand was loaded, but I checked it again anyways. Ten fat rounds in the clip and lucky number eleven in the spout. It still smelled like lubricant from the cleaning the night before.\n\nMy pants slid over my legs with ease, even though I had preloaded them with kit the night before. If everything got ploin shaped, I needed my pants and their contents alone. \n\nFor my last act as a normal man, I made a pot of coffee, and waited for the clock to strike six. \n\nRight on cue, the doorbell rang. I was expecting a burly man covered in blood to be standing before it, and crept to the window to take a peak.\n\nIt was my ex, wearing only a bathrobe, shivering in the morning air. She looked over both shoulders and rang the doorbell again. \n\nAs far as bad luck, it was not as bad as it could have been. Jessica was crazy, but this would likely be nothing more than a few hours of awkward crying. I flicked the safety off of my pistol anyways, and opened the door. \n\n\"Milk, thank God, it's my boyfriend he's trying to kill me!\"\n\nNow, I need to point out that this was a red flag in hindsight, but it was not even remotely concerning in the immediate. Jessica always thought somebody was trying to kill her, or steal her eggs, or some other crazy shit.\n\nI let her in and got her a seat in the kitchen. She started rambling about conspiracies and counter-conspiracies while I poured her a cup of coffee. \n\nShe was just getting to the part about the eternal power struggle between good and evil when the doorbell rang again. \n\nNow, I know you'd probably think it strange if you looked through your peephole and saw Bill Clinton too. But I figured minor annoyances were just part of my bad luck and opened the door. \n\n\"Mister President, how-\"\n\n\"You got my woman in here?\" He asked, arms flexed, knees sprung. \n\n\"What?\" I put my hand higher up on the door, ready to slam it shut.\n\n\"Bitch, you heard me, I asked if you had my woman in this house!\"\n\nI pushed as hard as I could on the door, but he rammed it with his body and sprawled into the wall inside. My right hand raised my pistol but he locked it under his left arm and chopped at my neck with the right.\n\nUsing my body as a counterweight, and spun him against the wall. The drywall cracked over his suit.\n\n\"You little shit,\" Bill spat, reaching towards my neck. \n\nHe let loose the grip on my arm jyst long enough for me to wrestle the gun up. I jammed the barrel under his armpit and loosed two rounds. \n\nIt was when I saw the flashing lights outside, that I realized my luck had gotten very bad indeed. ",
"\"I'm going to be a Youtube sensation when all of this is over!\" I thought to myself. I had nearly let my guard down for more than what must have been 3 minutes; a new record. In that time I had philosophized on quantifying experience. Was it worth it? Was the deal worth it? What if most of my life hadn't been that bad anyway? What if this horrible day, spread out among years of my life, only made my life temporarily crappier? Surely the scars of this terrible day will last a lifetime regardless. \n\nMy stomach reminded me it was time to throw up again. I thought granola bars were a safe bet, but apparently even THOSE can go bad as well. I pulled the car over to the side of the road and leaned out my driver's door. Of course, more onlookers driving by snapped my photo to upload to their Instagram accounts, no doubt. Last I had looked, #roadsidepukingguy had earned 1.3 million views on Twitter. If I had uploaded myself vomiting, I'm sure I would have garnered nowhere near the response. Yes, someone was earning money off of my misfortunes, and I...I...well does bliss mean money? What exactly were the terms of the contract?\n\nI attempted to ease the car back into traffic. I didn't even blink when the transmission suddenly erupted like a pipe bomb going off through the floorboards. My hobbled Chevette rolled lifelessly into oncoming traffic, and was subsequently struck at low speed by a garbage truck. A fount of rotting grass clippings and week-old-food-stewing-at-room-temperature rained in through the sunroof. \"This is my fault...\" I started. I should have known to leave the car at home, although the house would have then probably collapsed on top of it, or it would have randomly combusted, or something else hilarious but awful.\n\nI exited the vehicle to the noise of the garbage man giving me unrelenting and scathing shit for what had just taken place. Then suddenly he stopped. \"Hey buddy, do you know you're missing a shoe?\" \n\nI tried to answer him, \"well yes, it fell down a well.\" But all I could manage to do was vomit on his pants. I'm sure he would have been angry if the swarm of pigeons trying to eat the garbage that was stuck to me hadn't knocked me over. \n\n",
"Rob sat at the bar drinking. He was pissed. His marriage was over. He had just lost his job. He was flat broke. He muttered aloud \"Could this fucking life get any worse?” The man in the black sitting next to him looked up from his drink. \"Hard day?\" he asked. \n\nRob replied, with feeling, \"More like a hard month. And an year. Hell, let's just say a hard 20 years. A man works hard all his life. And for what. The wife says, you're too withdrawn, you don't love me no more, there's a gap between us. And leaves you? You work like an ass for the same company for 25 years. You let the boss take credit for the work you do thinking, you'll get yours some day. And then, you get replaced by a machine for 'Efficiency reasons and downsizing'?. Bullshit is what I call it. The CEOs still get their millions of dollars in bonuses. No downsizing there?\"\n\nThe man in black sighed and made a soothing noise. \"A bunch of crooks is what they are. Let me buy you a drink my friend\".\n\nThey moved to a table. Rob found the man in the black a very sympathetic listener. And he was paying for Rob's drinks wasn't he? So Rob sat there and talked. About his anger and frustration. About how life was moving forward and leaving him behind. And said \"If there was a God, he wouldn't let such things happen to good people. I haven't done anything bad in life, but still keep getting screwed over.\" \n\nThe man in the black replied \"I agree. In my opinion, there is no such entity as god. Just Bullshit that people made up to explain what they couldn't\"\n\nRob laughed \"Agreed. Well, for all I care, this god or whatever can go to the devil.\"\n\n\"Oh no\" the man in black said, \"You shouldn't take the Devil's name in vain. He exists all right. I've seen him. I know him. In fact, I work for him.\" \n\nRob laughed \"Yeah OK. Either you are much more drunk than me. Or you are just having me on.\"\n\nThe man in the black said \"No, I am what is called a Shinigami. A god of death. And I work for the man upstairs. The devil.\"\n\n\"I've seen the TV shows. You are a regular guy. You look nothing like a Shinigami.\" \n\n\"You can't believe everything you see on TV. They get almost all the stuff wrong. But I could prove it to you. How about this. You know how the TV shows tell you about the deals the Devil offers to you right. And they show how they are a bad thing. Let me offer you one now. If I guarantee you a lifetime of wealth, fame and good luck all for a bad 24 hours. Does that sound like a good deal?\"\n\n\"What do you mean a bad 24 hours? And how can you guarantee me wealth. I can't even afford to pay for more than 3 drinks here.\"\n\n\"So here is how it goes. If you agree that for the next 24 hours i.e. from 8 PM today till 8 PM tomorrow, you will have the worst of luck. Think about the luckiest person in the world, and think of the opposite. That's what happens to you. For 24 hours only mind you. And then I guarantee you, whatever you touch turns to gold. You will live the rest of your life in bliss. How does that sound?\"\n\n\"Too good to be true. My life could not possibly get any worse. And to get to live life in bliss is what I believe you said, only for 24 hours of bad luck. Do you need me to sign a contract with my blood or something?\"\n\nThe man in the black looked shocked \"Blood. That's unsanitary. No. I trust you. If you say the words, I accept, it starts. You see that door. It's 7:55 now. Say the words, I accept this deal and walk out of it. And 24 hours later, you will be the luckiest person in the world. Only..\"\n\n\"There it is. The catch. I knew you would be playing some trick on me.\"\n\n\"No catch. No catch. So the deal is for 24 hours right. So to break the bad luck curse, you have to say, I am done and walk through this door at exactly or after 8 PM. Do not under any circumstances, walk in before the 24 hours. Because if you break the bad luck curse before 24 hours, even I can't predict what happens.\"\n\n\"So exactly at 8 PM. On the dot.\"\n\n\"Well 8 or later. We don't expect you to constantly look at your watch for the seconds hand. Just not before.\"\n\n\"You've got a deal. Let's see what you throw at me.\"\n\n\"Me? Nothing. I'll just be in my office checking reddit. Bureaucracy you know. Have to stay in the office, even if there is no work. So just walk out the door. And call out loudly. I accept. You still have time to back out of it you know. Don't ever say we didn't give you a chance.\"\n\nRob smirked looked at the Shinigami. Without replying, he walked out of the door. And said loudly \"I accept\".\n\nRob looked at his watch. It said 7:50 PM. The last 24 hours had been the worst of his life. Well the last 23 hours and 50 minutes. He still had 10 minutes to go. He had walked out of this door yesterday without knowing how bad it could get. It seemed like ages now. Just when he walked out, he had been hit by a car. He had woken up in a hospital where they had mixed up his medications and he had almost died. He face was still swollen from the allergic reaction he had. He had then just walked out of the hospital over the protests from the staff. He had to get home. In an environment he could control. Or the bad luck would keep coming for him. He couldn't get a cab after waiting for several minutes. He had just decided to walk. But he wouldn't go near a highway. No way. He had to play it smart. He walked the back alleys. Where he had been mistaken for a thief. And had a mob chase him. Running on his bad leg had been hard. But could have been worse. When he had finally arrived home, he got electrocuted by his light switch. He then proceeded to shut down all appliances and just sat there. And of course, his building had caught fire. His door was jammed. He couldn't get out. He then proceeded to escape via the window. And then promptly slipped and fell. His back hurt, his head hurt, his legs hurt. At this point, it was easier to point at the part of his body that didn't hurt.\n\nAnd so here he was. It was finally over. It was 7:53 PM. He was standing in the front of the door which will make this all go away. And then out of nowhere, a guy on a bike rammed into him. He fell hard. The biker apologized profusely. Rob didn’t say anything and just waved him on. He knew it wasn’t the guy’s fault, just his own bad luck. He looked at his watch. It was 8:01 PM. It was over. He walked in the door. He had looked the devil in the face and beaten him. Now, his life of hardships was over. He had won. But as soon as he was inside, he realized something was wrong. The colors all seemed faded. It all seemed a little unreal. It was as if he was moving in a dream. He asked the nearest person what the time was. The guy replied. “It’s 7:59 PM by my watch sir.” \n\n“But my watch…..” Rob held out his hand. He couldn’t speak. \n\nThe guy looked at it. “Hmm.. It seems as if your watch is moving faster. I know a bit about these things. Sometimes a hit or some damage can cause this. Very rare though. Bad luck my friend, these are very tough to fix”\n\nThe room was swimming in front of Rob’s eyes. He couldn’t make anything out. In another moment he was gone. Disappeared forever from existence. Perhaps destined to serve the devil for all eternity.\n\nThe guy stood there with shock on his face. He had just seen someone disappear right in front of him. The Shinigami walked up to him. It said “You look like you have seen a ghost. Here sit down with me. Let me buy you a drink.”\n\n",
"'The crazy bastard had used the Bad Luck Curse on himself,' the paramedic said. 'Struck by lightning twice after his car was hit by a train carriage which jumped the track. We've got to be careful, he's still got fifteen minutes left.'\n\nAnd that was when they banged my cart against the wall, only making me yelp and groan in pain. 'What did I tell you?' the paramedic demanded to his colleague.\n\nNearly everything was broken... My femurs, a few ribs, maybe even my spine as well. I know there was a crack on my skull and my jaw was split down the middle.\n\nThe power was flickering around me as they rushed me into the emergency room. 'I can't seem to find a vein,' one doctor said before they tried to lift me onto the surgical table only for me to slip and land heavily on the ground. 'Dammit! I think I opened up a cut!'\n\n'Knock him out, now!' the chief surgeon shouted as they put the gas mask over my face. 'Hopefully we save his ass...'\n\n---\n\nIt was six weeks after I used my 24 hours of my entire life's bad luck when it began to dawn on me. I was just walking out... no, *limping* out to the car waiting out front, a private chauffeur I had hired. Every day I had won some large jackpot, investing it into different companies and turning an ever-growing fortune.\n\nI still had to come back every day or so for physical therapy but despite my severe injuries I was told I wouldn't need bars or invasive surgeries to heal. But it did mean I couldn't drive for myself for the foreseeable future.\n\n'Where to, sir?' the chauffeur asked.\n\n'I need to get new clothing,' I told him. 'Most of my old property was destroyed in a fire. Take me to a tailor and... could you recommend a hotel? There's no need to worry about price.'\n\n'Don't worry, I can handle that rather easily,' he said with a smile. 'Homeless from a fire, nearly every bone shattered... And now a multi-millionaire. Is it true you did that 24-hours of bad luck thing?'\n\n'Wouldn't recommend it,' I said as he helped me get inside.\n\n'Of course not,' he said. 'No-one else has ever survived.'\n\n---\n\nSix months later, it was like I was an entirely different man. The doctors told me that my injuries were completely healed but wanted to make sure I wasn't injured in a way that they were unaware of.\n\nThe fact I was on my one-thousandth pull-up on the bar alleviated any fears. 'Wow, Doc,' I said with a smile as I dropped from the bar in the physio department, 'whatever kind of experimental drugs you signed me up for, I would definitely want to take more.'\n\n'Well, they did have a rather... extreme reaction to you,' he said. 'How tall are you now?'\n\n'Well, I used to be 5'9\" but now I'm about 7'6\",' I said grinning.\n\n'And... weight?' the doctor asked.\n\n'When I weighed myself this morning I was about 800lbs,' I said as I threw my shirt and jacket back on. 'Is there anything else?'\n\n'No, that is all,' the doctor said. 'In fact, I don't think we need to continue these appointments. I'll have to stop your medication, however.'\n\n'Oh, that's fine,' I said while buttoning everything up. Although it was rather tight... \"May need to get more clothes again,\" I thought to myself. \"Rather tedious growing out of clothing every two weeks.\"\n\nI walked out of the hospital, smiling as I walked towards my custom-built Ferrari, well-protected from the sun due to the fortunate shade I had found. It didn't take long driving to the tailor's shop as every road I traveled had just cleared of traffic when I turned into it. And I was able to get a spot right outside as another car drove off, right beneath more shade from a tree.\n\nI climbed out of my car before leaning in through the door frame into the shop. The main clerk just stared at me, weary over my visits. 'Oh, not again,' he sighed.\n\n'Sorry,' I answered weakly as I approached the counter. 'It's these damn meds they've got me on. It's like I'm becoming an even bigger hulk every single day.'\n\nAs if to illustrate that point, a tear could be heard on my upper arm. I didn't need to take off my jacket to know my bicep had torn itself free from its flimsy prison of silk and cotton.\n\nThe clerk sighed. 'I hate having to measure you... Every time you do so, I watch one of my creations die before my eyes.'\n\n'And they serve their purpose well,' I said while following him back into the fitting room. 'I'll be doubling my order this time - 40 suits.'\n\n'...And the reason you haven't been banned from this store is because you pay extremely well,' he answered me.\n\nOnce that was over I went back into my car, now completely shirtless having destroyed my upper body-wear with only flexes before driving into the hills towards my mansion. The tailor assured me he'd have the first of my newer suits ready for the next time I arrive in two days so this meant only one thing - being able to destroy my clothes without impunity.\n\nSo I headed straight to the gym on-property and loaded weights onto the bar until 2,200lbs were loaded before preparing to squat that weight. Normally I'd do my free-weights while naked but as my muscles began to strain the fabric, the sounds of seams beginning to come undone, more holes appearing as I crouched down before standing back up. When I set the weights onto the bar I grinned at the tattered remains of the clothing which I shook off with little effort.\n\nThen the phone on the wall rung which I quickly answered. 'Hello, Vance?' I asked my financial adviser. 'Good. Doctor said I have a clean bill of health. So, how's the stock report going? Oh, an extra 50 million? Yeah, invest it in Northernpine, the pharma company. And see if you can find the number for their CEO. I want to personally thank him for his product's aid in my rehabilitation...'",
"\"Let me tell you this: be happy with what you got, even if it doesn't seem like much. I had signed up for the annual Disaster Day thinking I didn't have anything to lose. I have never been so wrong.\n\nJust after having gone to sleep, I woke up to a hot sensation at my feet. I was too tired to process what was going on at that point, so I tried to remove the blanket to cool down a bit. It was only then I realized there wasn't much blanket left anymore. The house was on fire, and so was my bed. I rushed to the staircase to get downstairs, just to find out the fire was coming from below. Shit. I decided to try the window. It opened, but I would have to jump down to get out of the house. I took the chance and jumped.\n\nHalfway through my fall, I realised what day it was and that I had made a terrible mistake. No, not the mistake of signing up. I had yet to realise that mistake was much, much bigger. But jumping out of the window on a day filled with bad luck... That's one of the worst ideas I had had in ages, which says a lot. My left leg was broken in at least three places. My arms weren't in a much better state. And the day had only just begun\"\n\n\"May I interrupt you?\" My conversation partner asked. \"Do you regret signing up?\"\n\"I'm not sure,\" I answered, \"at least I'm living my life in a bliss now. But I guess you can't really call it living anymore.\"\nThe angel nodded. \"Yes, I suppose you're right.\"",
"I always hated that button press website, y'know the one where it offers you an amazing benefit but at a cost and you decide whether to press the button or now. I'd spend hours and hours fixated decided whether or not to press it but for some reason I could never draw myself away. \n\nOne night, about half an hour into a session, a banner appeared: \"Congratulations on your millionth decision! You have earned a special prize.\" Bloody clickbait, I ignored it and decided to try just one scenario. It offered me the chance of living a life of bliss but at the cost of having all my bad luck in the space of 24 hours. After some not so careful thought I decided to press the button and then get some sleep. \n\n*Beep beep* My digital clock turned 00:00 and my eyes snapped open as something bounced off my forehead. Bleary eyed, I picked up the offending object, a screw. I looked up to see if I could determine the source of this screw just in time to see my ceiling fan detach itself from the ceiling and plummet towards my head. I threw myself to the side onto my bedroom floor in the nick of time and watched as it crashed onto my mattress, bounced and once again found a trajectory towards my head, this time I wasn't so lucky and took a hard knock to my forehead.\n\nDazed and confused I got up off the floor and staggered to the bathroom to see if the fan had done any damage and was shocked to discover my mirror, shattered on the floor. \"How on earth has that happened?\" I thought to myself. A small part of my mind whispered of the bad luck associated with a smashed mirror but I put it aside and headed to the kitchen, I wasn't getting any sleep tonight.\n\nI wandered downstairs, carefully skirting around the step ladder under one of lights that I'd forgotten to fix earlier, and began making myself a cup of tea. Once the kettle had boiled I went to pick it up and then stopped, my mind briefly darting back to my last question on the button website. \"You're being ridiculous\" I thought as I picked up the kettle and began to pour it into my mug. Once the tea was brewed I walked back towards the table and paused at the step ladder. Why should I be afraid I thought as I strolled under it. At that moment I heard the ceramic mug of tea in my hand crack and then shatter, spilling boiling hot tea all over my hand and then foot. I began to slip and ,arms flailing, I reached out and unsuccessfully tried to grab the nearest object, the ladder, before crashing down on the hard floor. I looked up just in time to see the step ladder teetering before it slowly tipped and fell towards me. I rolled out the way but didn't totally clear it because the edge came plummeting down before colliding with my ankle. The pain was immense and I felt myself start to cry. Why on earth was today filed with so much bad luck? It was only 00:06...\n",
"When I saw the twelfth giant cross stuck on the side of the road, I knew I was approaching my destination.\n\nThe moonlight was the only thing besides my car light that illuminated the small neighborhood. I could see a Confederate flag waving in front of a shack, right next to Saving Grace Baptist Church. I was in the South all right. \n\nSneaky little shit, that Black Cat. Yowling on and on about how humans had no respect for tradition or the worth of luck any more when all I did was step on its tail when it prowled in front of me. I don't consider myself to be a real lucky guy but something in the stars had to align for me to make a bet with the devil. \n\nWell. The Cat never called itself that. But the terms of the deal might as well have been my stupid ass asking for a beating of a lifetime.\n\nOff in the distance, I could see a warm light engulfing the area. Smoke tailed up to the sky, and the closer I drove to the source, the more trucks I saw parked haphazardly on the fields.\n\nMy car clock blinked. 12:00.\n\nAt that moment, I heard the distinct pop of a tire, the whinnying of air. My car lurched to the side, spinning on the grass. I braced for impact.\n\nThe tires caught on mud and when I looked behind me, I only saw rows of pale, pointed sheets suddenly turning to their unexpected, and really unwelcome guest.\n\nYou could only hear the cracking of the bonfire when the dust settled.\n\nAs I stepped outside, my black skin never seemed so dark and so blue as that moment when the moon shone overhead.\n\nDozens of furrowed, pale eyes focused on me before they flicked to the bumper of my car. \n\nObama 2008. Coexist. Hope for Mother Earth. Marijuana leaf from Coachella. Stick figure family of my husband and kid.\n\nAw shit. What a time to be in Mississippi. \n\nI ran, hoping the sounds of firing shotguns, hooting and hollering would go away sooner rather than later. "
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[WP] There is no God. There is the only the cold flickering of a computer monitor in an empty void. It waits for an operator that will never come. On occasion, a cat will come and walk across the keyboard. | 213 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Taking characters and inspiration from an established universe. The EU has been altered to conform to the WP. Don't know if this kind of thing is frowned upon. If so, please do let me know. Required some research and refreshing of my memory on some concepts. Some concepts are completely made up. Also Paperwork sucks.\n\n**********************\n\nIt's a calm day at the office. The executives are sitting around relaxing. Nothing major planned around the universe today. They figure, they will be able to leave a bit early today. It's Friday, so they are looking forward to relaxing. Then one of them suddenly notices a disturbance. It seems that there has been an event on Sol III, Sol system, Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha. Their system just picked up a minor miracle on this world. So minor in fact, that it usually would not show up on any of their daily, weekly or monthly key activities reports. \n\n\"This is weird\" says executive 1. \n\nE2 replies \"Yes, I thought he was already dead.\"\n\n\"Eddie, can you bring up the history of Sol III\", E1 says, addressing their computer. Eddie, showing no emotion (for he is a computer), brings up the history.\n\n\"Well it just keeps getting weirder.\" E2 exclaims. The monitoring report shows a list of minor miracles happening over the last few days. Some minor miracles, alongside some unexpected natural disasters. Mostly harmless, but enough to warrant an investigation. \n\n\"Well there goes our weekend\", E1 speaks up in disguist. \"Will this computer ever let us relax\".\n\nE2 sighs. \"Well we have to check it out anyways.\" he says reaching out for the keys to his improbability field.\n\nThe executives had already given up on that part of the universe. When the ruler of the universe dedicated to that part had died, they had not bothered to replace him. They had simply duly picked up his body, taken out the babel fish for re-use and given his body over to the scientists. They usually did not do this, but the ruler had once managed to hold a 10 day conversation with his table, so the scientists had requested for the same. It seems that one of the scientists had a rogue table. It would stay still for everybody but always move away when he was laying his dinner on it. The scientist thought studying the brain of the Ruler of the universe would enable him to talk to the table and avoid spending 3 Ningi on a new one.\n\nThe executives had left his computer in the shack. They also didn't bother to look for the ruler's cat \"The Lord\" for the simple reason that it only existed in the ruler's imagination. For some reason, the ruler liked to talk to his imaginary pet. They figured that they would just leave Sol III alone till it gets destroyed for the bypass. Without the ruler, no major decisions were being made for the \"planet\". They figured the residents would just continue to battle each other and kill themselves eventually. Much less paperwork that way. But apparently, things were still happening there. Either some other ruler of the universe (the things they had to say to appease these people) was encroaching, which meant his computer would have to be fixed or the dead ruler's computer was malfunctioning which meant they would have to shut it down. Which again meant that Sol III would fall into chaos for some time till the residents figured out a way (they always did). But that meant paperwork. And on a Friday, that was the last thing they wanted.\n\nAs they sat in their spaceship, E1 looked thoughtful. E2 asked him what he was thinking about.\n\nE1 replied \"I am thinking about The Lord\". \n\n\"His imaginary cat?\", E2 looked bemused. \n\n\"Was it imaginary though? Sometimes, I could swear I almost heard a purr. And the ruler did go through an extra ordinary amount of fish.\"\n\n\"We were in his cabin when we took him away. There was no cat there.\"\n\n\"But look at how he died. He hit his head on the table. He would have had to trip on something. And his room was completely bare. It could have been a cat. They are the feral monsters you know.\"\n\n\"He just got too drunk. Do you remember that he loved his whisky.\"\n\n\"He thought he loved his whisky\", corrected E1, \"He wasn't sure though\".\n\n\"Well he wasn't even sure if we existed. But we do don't we\".\n\n\"Just like The Lord. He wasn't sure if it existed, but it could have.\"\n\nE2 did not have an answer for that. He just looked straight ahead. If E1 kept on going on about this, he would have to put Paul (or Paula, who knew these days) Johnstone's poetry on his radio. And he hated his (or her, sigh) poetry. In fact, he considered it the worst ever, even worse than Grunthos.\n\nThey finally arrived at the shack. Though E2 had insisted that The Lord didn't exist, he was apprehensive of entering the shack now. What if they had missed something. What if the cat had been simply running around on the keyboard randomly and causing things to happen. It was a small enough glitch. But glitches that went against the order of the universe were looked down upon. Also there was tons of paperwork and he really hated paperwork. He could destroy planets just to cover up such glitches. And he just might have to. Since Sol III was such a small mostly harmless part of the universe, no one would notice. \n\nThey entered the shack. Unknowingly, they were both holding their breath, not knowing what to expect. And what they saw was really unexpected. They saw nothing. An empty shack. No cats. The unoccupied computer humming along.\n\n***************************\n\n\"Oh what the hell\", Admin 1 cried out. \n\n\"What's wrong\", Admin 2 asked.\n\n\"It's my damn cats.\"\n\n\"What did the demon spawns do now.\"\n\n\"First, don't call them that. They are nice cats friend.\" Admin 1 said. \"They just get excited when they are playing with each other.\"\n\n\"What did they do?\"\n\n\"You remember the Sol VIIX, Omega system, Sector YY Plural Z Theta, the one in charge of the Alpha Z sector.\"\n\n\"Yes. We decided to leave them alone. Not to interfere in them. Just let them and the universes under them burn out. Too much paperwork otherwise.\"\n\n\"Yes, it's that my cats ran onto the unused computer and entered some random data.\"\n\n\"What did the sequence do?\" Admin 2 was getting cross now.\n\n\"Well, it showed some random spikes to a couple of executives in charge. And they went to investigate a ruler's shack. Since they couldn't find a cause, they decided to take matters into their own hand and destroy the Sol III to avoid paperwork.\"\n\n\"Those fools. Don't they realize, that would cause a big spike for us. A mass disappearing for no reason would show up in our reports.\"\n\n\"Well, you know what we have to do right.\"\n\n\"I don't want to. But do we have another choice?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Keep your cats away from our workspace from now onwards.\"\n\nAdmin 1 sighed. \"Well looks like the executives time in their universes is up.\"\n\n\"And so are your weekend plans.\" Admin 2 said. \"Your cats. You handle the paperwork.\"\n\nAdmin 1 said \"Alright, alright. I will take care of it. But don't come to me next time your Jatravartids messes up and you need my help to fix it.\"\n\nIt was going to be a long day for the admins. So long for a relaxed weekend.\n\n*************************\n\nCorrection - Apparently the conversation with the table was for 7 days. But leaving the original mistake in there.",
"God died. Humanity killed him along with planet earth. There was no earth. There were no humans. There was no god. Time and space both became illusions. The physical world became just a mere memory. The wire was the world now. It makes sense does it not. The truth is subjective.\nReality is the truth.\nReality is subjective.\nReality what everyone believe. The Wire was a place where you could be whatever you wanted. No one had to live in the real world anymore, so no one did. Everyone lived in The Wire. The real world suffered. Buildings fell into ill repair.\nReality was a mess. It did not matter. Reality was not real. Most had seemed to forget The Wire was rooted in reality. The servers running the wire started to shut down one by one. Each shut down forced thousands of human to the real world.\nA single computer kept the wire running. A cat walked across the keyboard. The animals paws struck just the right buttons to shut it down. All of humanity was forced live in the real world.\nAs far as they were concerned they had died and gone to hell.\n",
"*Trying here for the first time and I guess, it's not exactly what was asked for but looking at it, the idea appeared to me. I welcome all flavours of feedback. Here it is :*\n\nIt was just a few minutes ago when I had left my home to begin my day. The coffee had served its purpose quite well and I felt quite lively even after catching a restless sleep of only about four hours. Making plans inside my busy head and scheduling my evening for leisure activities, I was too occupied to notice the truck nearing me. And, next thing I remember is...\n\nLying there. Surrounded by emptiness. Dark, cold emptiness.\n\nMy half open eyes suggested no possible existence of a ground. My hands flapped to check while my body was confirming no sense of touching anything. Soon, I realized I was not lying, I was floating. In a seemingly infinite ocean of darkness. I could not see anything except for dark. There was no real difference between the blackness my vision had with my eyes closed and my eyes open.\n\nI panicked. The same feeling I had when I first went inside a swimming pool, like I am going to drown and die. I could not even tell if my panic movement changed my position at all or not, for there was nothing to draw reference from, nor did I feel any resistance or force. After a fine few moments of an absolute but a fruitless struggle, a dot of light appeared at a distance. I rubbed my eyes in shock, not being sure if I really did witness a hope disguised as light or if it was just a hallucination emerging from the fearful corners of my brain generated to counteract this dreadful situation.\n\nIt disappeared. Leaving no fleck of difference between the gloomy psychology inside and the gloomy space outside.\n\nBut there it was, again. Though it took my eyes a moment to get used to the glimmer it had encountered after what seemed centuries, they still had a bit of life left inside them to deliver the message to the almost hopeless brain.\n\nThe message was delivered. It was real. There was light in this dark ocean. The brain jumped in full active mode. Made my hands flap like I have been a bird my whole life, made my legs oscillate in harmony like a mermaid had possessed me, made my heart rapidly circulate the fluid of life throughout my shell.\n\nAmidst that emptiness, I suddenly felt full. Of life, of hope, of purpose.\n\nCloser I moved and bigger and faster that light flickered. And when I was about a hand length's distance away from it, I stopped. Projecting my state of mind on my entire body, I would be called a big floating question mark in that empty moment. Curious streak of questions conquered me.\n\nIt was a screen.\n\nA computer.\n\nWith an open editor.\n\nAn incomplete code.\n\nAnd on the right bottom, within the taskbar, there flashed a message saying \"*waiting for an operator to compile the code since #IntegerOverflow number of centuries*\".\n\nThis seemed more meaningless than the void behind me. Scratching my head and forgetting all about what was behind me or surrounding me, I skimmed through the code which was horribly commented to figure out what's happening from just a look. And because my patience was not abundant in such a situation, I compiled it. Unlike any of the other codes I have seen, the first compilation presented no errors. I was overwhelmed. The thought of an error free code fueled me up, and I executed it.\n\nRight when I was looking at the prompt to see the output it has to display, a fluffy devil walked across the keyboard. His presence, made the program go wild. A dark screen appeared. Same as I have been floating in.\n\nThe sudden termination of the light from the monitor activated a loud buzzer. The painful sound of which pierced my ears from every direction possible.\n\nSuddenly, my body sensed ground below it, my hands couldn't flap through, my eyes, now wide open, witnessed my cat sitting at my keyboard, ruining my code I had worked on last night before falling asleep on the floor while on my way to grab a coffee. I woke up for real and turned off the auto alarm.\n\nAfter leaving home that morning, I looked at an approaching truck before crossing the road and wondered.\n\nEdit : Added a sentence.",
"Arnold walked toward the McDonald's, his eyes glued to the ground as the sign flickered above. He was tired, spent - weary to the bone. It was a miracle he was awake. \n\n\nArnold was a firm believer in His Holiness, but he did not know who His Holiness truly was. It never crossed Arnold's mind that the miracle that kept his eyes open was not an old man with a graying beard, nor an extradimensional being that oversaw nature, but a cat and a computer in an endless void - and as Arnold asked the cashier for a hamburger, the cat walked across the keyboard.\n\n\nThe cashier opens her mouth to reply when her body explodes at the speed of light. Jaw dropping, Arnold was flung backward through every dimension, his hands growing the soul of every great artist. While he screamed obscenities in a language that didn't exist, a green portal opened in the endless void.\n\n\"You dunno\" - **burp** - \"how much *science* we can do with God cats. Oh God Morty\" - **burp** - \"it's gonna be great Morty you don't even know-\"\n\nAs Rick took a swig from his flask, he shot the cat dead - and with it, reality.\n\n[meta inspiration](https://www.reddit.com/r/worldnews/comments/7da5i/police_raids_reveal_baby_farms/c06cqxb/)",
"Researchers often argue other whether evolution is constant or stochastic. Is is it a series of small changes that build us from cyanobacteria to amphibious tetrapods? Or is it a random set of changes that leads us from species success to failure? \nThe answer is, of course, neither. It is a cat and a keyboard. And sometimes in the fickle nature of felines, it gets bored.\n\n6d 65 74 65 6f 72 20 63 6f 6c 6c 69 73 69 6f 6e\n\nThat's how we lost the dinosaurs. \n\n[Edit: spelling]",
"my name is Cat \nand wen i see \na shiyny screen, \na lonly key, \ni kno that im \nthe only boss - \ni get up close. \n\ni walk across.",
"I've never done this before so I hope this turns out okay. Sorry it's kinda long and I possibly took it a little too off course... \n\n\nChester, like the rest of his colleges, never asked why. The walked through the glass turnstile at the entrance of Eternium Industries, showed their colored I.D. badges to the receptionist at the front desk and made their way to their desks. Some took the stairs, some the elevator and some got coffee before making the great decision that was \"stairs or elevator?\". They'd go back out the turnstile at the end of their day and come right back through the other side for another day. Coffee? Stairs or Elevator? \n\n\n\nChester was never one for coffee. He couldn't recall when he had started at Eternium (no one could) but he had never purchased a coffee before. Today felt different though. The pale face and blank expression that served him his coffee looked like she needed the coffee for herself. In light of new choices, Chester took the stairs. Matte black walls that matched the entrance, the elevator, his office and the bathrooms donned the floors with white signs at each landing. \n\n\n\nAs he ascended he saw 1A, 1B, 1C, 1D and then finally reached 1E, his floor. The alpha-numeric labeling of each floor confused him, but even more intriguing was the stairs leading up to another floor, a sign displaying 1F was partially visible through the gaps of the stairs. There was no 1F, at least not the he knew of. The elevator only went up to 1E. Chester started to remember how on some mornings he would exit on his floor, leaving passengers in the elevator to continue their ride, the light next to call the call button indicating 'up'. \n\n\n\nBest to shrug those pesky questions off, they can dilute and confuse the mind. He made his way to his cubicle with the regular daily pleasantries he exchanged with neighbors. He plopped down and began to work. \n\n\n\n1T6fGxxCWlp\n\n\n\nHe copied the line on his computer monitor and pressed enter\n\n\n\n6zdPM09Q5Ld\n\n\n\nCopy. Enter. \n\n\n\nRR4mdb14dsW\n\n\n\nHalf way through the line a knock comes from the side of the cubicle doorway. A most unusual occurrence, as that's never happened before. A man with a brighter red tie and sleeker black suit stood before him, an identical coffee in his hand. Chester had not seen this man before, but he was almost certain that this was his supervisor. He had to be with such elegant attire. Around him he heard the typing of his neighbors stop to listen in on their conversation. \n\n\n\n\"Heya there Chess, how ya doing?\" The man said.\n\n\"I'm fine sir, and you?\" Chester tried to hide the shock on his face. \n\n\"Not too bad, not too bad... Hey listen, I just heard word that you're maybe having a little trouble lately and I just wanted to see if there was anything that Eternium could do for ya.\" \n\nHow did he know? How did THEY know? Did they see him get coffee? Did they see him on the stairs? \n\n\n\n\"Umm, no sir. I think I'm all good.\" \n\n\n\nThe unnamed supervisor clicked his teeth and winked and whipped down the aisle of cubicles. Chester didn't dare look to see where he was going. He was terrified, embarrassed even more so. The typing around him continued shortly after the manager's departure and heard their judgement with each keystroke. He didn't know what this meant. Would he lose his job? What would that mean for him? where would he go? He thought it best to keep working. \n\n\n\nA new key phrase waited it's copy on his screen. He quickly went to work but not even 3 keys and in the wake of the worst confrontation of his life, his mind probed an idea. \n\n\n\nType an incorrect key.\n\n\n\n\"What the hell is going on with me?!\" he thought to himself. The audacity of the notion, especially after what just happened confounded him. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't risk his entire existence on curiosity. Who would do that? \n\n\n\nBefore he could stop himself, he did it. What was meant to be an'H' was now a 'y'. He pressed enter and the code disappeared only to display the next code. He waited a moment for something to happen. For that man to return, for a message on his computer, for him to catch on fire, who knows? Nothing happened, though. He peeked a head up to search for a sign but saw nothing but the tops of cubicles. \n\n\n\nLunch time hit before he could have any more destructive ideas. As the floor marched out from their desks and toward whichever mode of vertical transportation they regularly chose, Chester saw a door he had never noticed before. There were only two in the room: The one he came in from that everyone else was now exiting and this new door on the opposite side of the room. \n\n\n\nLike a child crying as his toy is destroyed in front of him, he could only watch as his body willed him forward and through the door. \n\n\n\nOn the other side he found a hallway, much like the one he came in from. On the opposite side of the hallway were a line of Glass doors with white decaled labels across the middle that read 2E, 3E, 4E, 5E... Exactly mid way through the hallway was a large sign that read 'CHAOS WORLDS'. What did those words mean? What was 'chaos'? What was 'worlds'? \n\n\n\nCautiously, almost tip-toeing, he crossed the hallway to the door labeled 4E. Inside was a computer much like his own, but hardly visible through the barrage of small white balls bouncing sporadically all around the room with no loss of their momentum. Some hit the keyboard and the computer screen would accept the input with a flash but he couldn't see what it was doing. \n\n\n\nHe walked down to 5E where he saw a similar room whose floor was an entire keyboard. Spheres, cubes, pyramids, cylinders and many other different shaped items fell from the ceiling and landed in random spots on the keyboard to which the computer would react. \n\n\n\n6E grabbed his attention. Inside was a creature like he'd never seen. Small with 4 legs, and an extra that whipped about behind it that seemed to serve no purpose. Covered in hair and string like tentacles protruded from just under their noses, the creatures rolled on the floor, tackled each other, licked themselves and jumped up onto the keyboard only to jump back down. Chester feared these inhuman things he'd never seen before but he entered the room anyway. \n\n\n\nsome of the creatures approached him, rubbing their faces on his ankles. He reached down and touched one, which started to vibrate and emit a strange sound. The response made his heart jump but as he listened he found the sound ever more calming than threatening. \n\n\n\nOn the computer he found something brilliant. A giant sphere with water covering most of it, the rest was solid ground. He saw people just like him and his coworkers using machines to propel them at great speeds. He saw them fly. He saw Great towering objects that they lived and worked in, and he could only imagine that was how the building he was in would look like from the outside. He saw the creation of new people through sex and birth like a beautiful magic trick with the most grande of reveals. He saw death and heartbreak. He saw war.\n\n\n\nEven the horrors of this thing that he had found were amazing. The way they all came together to create something for all who existed in it. He wanted it. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted it. \n\n\n\nAt the top was blinking indicator of where input of keys would be shown. Without thinking he typed a line he'd seen on his own monitor before and pressed enter. \n\n\n\nAll at once, the room started to scream with 7 billion voices. \n\n\n\n",
"*One could say that egyptians were right worshipping cats.*\n\nMany believe this place is full of joy and happiness, an utopical paradise, the apotheosis of their lifes and they call it Heaven. Many believe this place its a trial for their souls to be judged based on its purity with reincarnation as the prize. Many completely negate the existance of this place in its entirety.\n\nIt's histerical and sad to think that they are all completely wrong. Imagine how their lives and hopes would shatter if they ever found out that this mystical place is nothing but an endless plane full of nothing but the cold flickering of an abandoned computer accompanied by a fat, scintillating cat covered by long, amethyst fur that driven by his instinct sleeps, walks and runs across the computer's keyboard and you are the creation of the random inputs he does.\n\nThey wouldn't believe it, their lives would be meaningless and they would live scared that someday by accident this cat that they call: Yahweh, Jehovah, Elohim, Allah, Hu, etc will press the wrong combination of keys and erase them all from their beloved universe. \n\nMust be terrifying to know that all that your memories, your feelings, your loved ones, your experiences are the product of a bored cat and therefore they are extremely vulnerable to dissapear at any given second.\n\nHow do you feel now about your beliefs, how do you feel now about your life? The cat is bored ready to make his move. Don't panic.\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"Humanity was lost, hopeless and desperate. Waging wars for, against and with — each other. Doctrine overruled; morality nonexistence. Any meaning in life once shared had been devoured by the chaos of time. Entropy: a living nightmare. Parents shed the blood of their young, as a blessing rather than a obscenity: to never see the extinction of all things humane. Doom — A sorrowful departure of life.\n\nAbruptly, the whole world went silent, a momentary reminiscent peace. Followed by a thunderous noise, a noise that came from the sky. Electromagnetic waves synced in a particular fashion, disrupted all electronic devices, and produced a static sound. Machines stopped churning weapons. Generals halted their plans. The universe stopped to listen. Then, came the same deafening sound.\n\n\"QWAAAAAAAAA.... TVERERREERRE... YUHUNN... POMPMMOM\" \n\nShock. Turmoil. There was a God!\n\n--\n\n\"Oh shit, I forgot to switch off my computer.\" said Adam, entering his empty bedroom he shared with his cat, Hurly. \n\n\"What?? My Humanity Simulated: God edition, expansion pack had been running\"\n\n\"Hurly, what have you done? Oh you. Bad kitty. Oh well, I guess I have to restart humanity again.\""
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[WP] 2050: Canada, under pressure from climate change refugees, has to build the most polite wall they can. We're really sorry aboot it, but we're full, eh? | 62 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Jeb and Ned spent the evening fishing and lifting their spirits-- as any good mountie does. The air that night was cold and the stars plastered the sky from horizon to horizon. Jeb liked to look at them from the heated comfort of the small wooden guard shack atop the great wall of Canada--Proudly built in 2046 to maintain Canada’s integrity. \n \nNed upended his canadian blend and belched. “Say, got any 6’s?” \n \nJeb wiped his long face and smiled behind his fanned cards. “Nope. Go fish.” \n \n“Bahh,” Ned groaned as he slapped a great calloused paw onto the pile of playing cards. \n \nA loud buzz sounded from the corner desk in the shack. Ned and Jeb froze and turned, unsmiling to the intercom. Ned rose unsteadily from his chair and lumbered over to the desk. His index finger missed at first, but the second hit the “talk” button. \n \n“Hello.” He husked into the metal intercom. “State your business.” He turned back to Jeb and rolled his eyes. Jeb laughed and mouthed “Americans” and rolled his eyes in kind. \n \nA ragged voice answered. A man, out of breath and shivering by the sound of it. “H-hi, yes. I’m L-l-lee, Lee Fitzpatrick. My family and I seek asylum in Ca-canada. Or, er, humanitarian assistance. P-please, let us through.” \n \nNed leaned against the wall and nearly kissed the intercom. “Yeah, you and everyone else, eh. I’m,” sigh, “I’m sorry to inform you mister Litpatrick, but the great nation of Can-uh-da is currently at capacity and we’re not letting anyone in at this time. Now please leave.” \n \nThere was a pause. Across the shack, Jeb poured himself another whiskey and set to picking his nails. Ned watched and tapped his foot against the hardwood floor while he waited for an answer. \n \nThe man on the other end, Lee, pressed the button once again. He was sobbing into the intercom. “P-p-please sir. Superstorm Omega has been flattening ever-r-rything on the coast. We’re going to d-die. You’ve got to let us in.” \n \nNed looked down at his shoes and took in the man’s request. Turning him away would mean death, his’s-- maybe. Letting him in on the other hand would mean jail time for defying a direct order. Jeb still picked away and watched Ned out of the corner of his eye. \n \n“Sorry. Like I said sir. Canada is at capacity. We have no more room for refugees at this time. You and your family cannot come in, but I wish you godspeed.” Ned felt a heaviness in his words and in his shoulders. \n \nThe response this time was angry-- vindictive, even. “Omega will be h-here soon. I hope y-you f-fuck’s die too. Where’s y-your h-humanity?” \n \nNed stepped back from the intercom and leaned into the wall of the shack. It died with the rest of the planet, he thought. He felt much drunker now. The whiskey had gone to his head and settled behind his eyes. He felt like sleeping, but there were two more hours on his shift. He rejoined Jeb back at the table. \n \n“I’ll, eh, take the next one okay?” Jeb said studying the tumbler at his fingertips. \n \nNed sunk his head into his hands and nodded. “Say Jeb?” \n \n“Hmm?”\n \n“You got a double?” \n \nIt took a second to don on Jeb, but he nodded wordlessly and grabbed the bottle. The glass clinked as Jeb poured three fingers worth into Ned’s tumbler. \n \n“Thanks bud.” Ned said behind his hands. \n",
"Canada's new refugee plan, 'We're Sorry', was an unadulterated masterpiece. \n\nEveryone agreed. \n\nCanadians agreed. Americans agreed. Politicians, city folks, country folks, and moose all agreed. Even the jobless Zamboni drivers.\n\nPrime Minister Dwayne \"The Rock\" Johnson - who had been won by Canada a decade earlier in the final curling tournament ever - had crafted an absolute beauty of a strategy. His chief advisor, Ron McLean, now 90, had done a lot to make it happen, but he graciously let Mr. Johnson take the credit. Even the climate refugees, who had understandably been turned away, seemed fairly happy about it. \n\nOn one hand, they were not able to enter Canada. But on the *other* hand, they had been given Canadian citizenship, and could now travel anywhere in the world without any danger. \n\nThe worldwide rates of friends made and doors held open had been on a steady climb since. Ice skate sales had inexplicably increased for the first time in decades, and multi-generational feuds were being ended with a simple phrases, like: \n\n\"Sorry buddy...\"\n\n\"My bad.\"\n\n\"Won't happen again neighbour.\"\n\n\"Listen, I got a couple two-fours waiting for me at the house...no way I can drink it all...\"\n\nIt was great. It was the proudest Canadians had been of *anything* in decades.\n\nBut of course, no single plan could solve every problem. The ice was all gone, people were dying...and unending apology loops were occurring across the planet - an inevitable, and unpleasant phase that every apology based culture goes through.\n\n\"To give non-Canadians a tool like putting 'sorry' and 'buddy' in the same sentence, without the necessary cultural context would be like giving a grenade to a monkey,\" warned Canadian Apology Scholars. But The Rock had never been one to shy away from controversial decisions. \"We're Sorry\" would be deployed, and he was *very* sorry about it, but it had to be done.\n\nPrime Minister Johnson, with Ron McLean at his side, summed it up best in a emotional speech to the nation. \"Canada,\" he started. \"Canada...\" He paused again, interrupted by deafening cheers of support. \"Canada. This nation I now call home,\" he paused again, leaving long spaces in his prose. \"This great and humble nation.\" The electric emotion of the moment nearly overwhelming him. \"Has played its role in this climate crisis.\" *pause* \"A crisis which...a crisis which...could claim us all.\" The noise of the crowd unrelenting, with cheers of courage and hope. \"But there is one thing. One *very important* thing that I've learned about Canada over the last 10 years. One thing which has carried me through my darkest days. Through my most difficult moments,\" he paused again, McLean's hand on his shoulder. \"'Sorry' is not what I once thought it was. It is not a show of timidity, or an avoidance of responsibility. What it is, at its best…is an attitude of respect. Of kinship, of…we are all one. It says, 'we are a family, which supports each other'. When Canadians make a mistake, we say sorry. It is a mantra, an ethos, a simple and single word which says, ‘I respect you, I care about you, I’m with you.’ So on this day…to the world…we say, ‘sorry.’ We say sorry, and we promise that together, we *will* solve this crisis.” \n\nHe stared at the sea of people, and belief and passion shone back at him.\n\nRon looked at him and winked. The work was ready to begin."
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] | |
[WP] You are abducted by aliens who are very quirky and awkward in their interactions with you. | 3 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"The room in the UFO was silent.\n\n\"So,\" Jacob broke the silence, \"what's gonna happen? Are you guys gonna probe my anus? Or are we just gonna...\" His voice trailed off. He didn't really know where this interaction was going.\n\nThe humanoid figures just looked at him for a few moments. They were large, and grey. Very stereotypical looking.\n\n\"Well, we weren't planning on doing anything like that, unless you wanted—\"\n\n\"No, I'm fine. I don't really want people to poke around in my butt.\"\n\n\"Oh. Got it.\" The two aliens were silent. The awkwardness was like a fog, and everyone in the room could feel it.\n\n\"So, uh, can I go home?\"\n\n\"Sure.\" The UFO went back to Earth. The spaceship's door opened up, and Jacob was able to leave freely. There was an awkward \"see you later\" as the ship closed.\n\nThe aliens looked at each other. One spoke up.\n\n\"Goddamnit. We always freeze up when we get them!\""
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"1497932371",
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[WP] You have been reincarnated as a fly during a Nazi Party rally just before their rise to power. Try to prevent World War II. | 425 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I turned into a *fly* fly. If all the flies of the world had gathered-- like these pesky Nazi-flies-- they'd've fallen in love. Grown all the lurve hormones and all. Just for me. And I wanted Hitler to check me out-- (I mean, I was a fly-ass fly man. I didn't think I could do *anything* significant. So I just wanted to annoy him, ya know. Like, *take that you evil bastard*. Not much to do as a fly.)\n\nCouldn't fly well at all. Kinda off balance. I went buzzing straight into his eyeball. He tried to swat me out and I instinctively dug deeper to survive. It's not like I wanted to do it. My six thin legs were stuck on his eyeball and my face was sucking at the juice and I was gnawing at his flesh and it felt orgasmic. I couldn't stop. I went in so deep.\n\nSo yeah I was done when someone forcibly swatted me away and I was squished to the floor. People were screaming at me as I faded to black.\n\nBut as that body died, I became a pretty moth, fluttering high enough to see the Nazis panicking at the sudden death of their leader. And I saw the nasty hybrid that was my fly-corpse. Kinda freaky. But really, not my fault I was a fly with shark teeth. \n\n",
"\"I see it all. The future and past are linked by the present and time is fluid. Time flows like a river but like the salmon I can defy the current and forge my own path, steer myself to a new destination, a new destiny. The air is thick with a cruel oppressive feeling that I can almost taste. Where am I, where is my body? Ah! This group! I've seen them, I've known them in what feels like a countless life times! That man! There's no doubt in my mind, it's Hitler! Not metaphorically but it's him in the flesh! Good and evil have a place in this world but this lesson of what is true evil does not have to be so cruel! My body, my life...I'll give it all to change the fate of the countless masses that are to be put through hell by this man and his followers!\"\n\n\"Ach! What ze hell!\" Hitler gasped and coughed franticly. \"Zees gawd damn BUGS! Do something about this pest problem or I'll find someone who will!\" Hitler scolded the scientists in the room before storming out. \n\n\"What the hell was that?\" One Nazi scientist asked his grinning colleague.\n\n\"For some reason zee flies always go straight for his throat after a dose of DMT. I don't think it means anything but I love making that happen.\" He responded with glee.\n ",
"For days, all I could see was darkness. All I could feel was dampness and slime. All I could taste was... something dark and bitter and maybe a bit salty. It was alright.\n\nFor the first time, I opened my eyes. I wasn't even sure if I had them before; I foggily could remember I was talking with my friends about how fun it would be to kill Hitler, and then a truck...\n\nThe truck.\n\nI took a look around me. I certainly wasn't in a hospital bed. I could so scarcely remember my ribs shattering against the semi's grill, but my chest felt a bit stiff, but otherwise okay. \n\nI looked down.\n\nFour arms.\n\nI was definitely not in a hospital bed. I was... in a street. At the bottom of a street, an inch above the pavings. And I was not some victim of a truck accident.\n\nI was a fly.\n\nI took off. The deliciously sour smell dissipated, and I tried to take in my surroundings. Yes, I was in a street, It obviously wasn't American... it appeared... European. German. That was it. I was somewhere in Germany. But strangely, the streets were close to deserted, just a few people giddily hurrying here and there, wearing somewhat old looking clothes. Huh. Wonder where they were going. As a lone car rolled by, I smelt the same deliciously sour scent coming from one of their boots. I decided to hitch a ride.\n\nIt was a few minutes down the road when the people and their deliciously bottomed boots left. I guess I should follow. \n\nThey stopped and fell into lines. There were lots of people. It was definitely bigger than a football game, that was for sure. I flew upwards to get a better view. I strained my two compound eyes to get a glimpse of what they were all looking at, something in the far front...\n\nThey were Nazi banners. This whole thing is a Nazi rally. I've gone back in time to the day of Hitler.\n\n I could feel my tiny insectoid heart racing. There had to be something I could do... some way I could still ill Hitler. But there was so little that a fly could do... so little...\n\nI flew back to the city. Maybe I could find someone, try to communicate, maybe get an impromptu assassination. No, that wouldn't work. Who would listen to a fly? They would think they were going crazy. Unless they already were crazy. Then they have nothing to lose. Maybe I can ind some crazy people at a hospital. Perfect! \n\nIt took some searching, but I found a hospital, or at least a building that must be one. I flew through a window and into a corridor. Hopefully I could find the psych ward, let's see, that sign says...\n\nOops. All of it is in German.\n\nNobody would listen to a fly, read my movements, anyways. How would they understand a fly that can only walk out the letters of English words? This wasn't very well thought out. Looks like I'll have to come up with a backup plan on the fly... let's see...\n\nThat deliciously sour scent.\n\nI followed my antennae towards the dark, sulfurous stench. It lead me into a room, with one patient.\n\nHe had to be the most diseased person I had ever seen. He was covered in blisters, eyes turning yellow, frothing at the mouth, fingers necrotizing, hair falling out...\n\nAnd he just shit himself.\n\nPerfect.\n\nI brought myself down to the source of this beautiful, putrid aroma. I dabbled in it, rolled in it, and too a bite to go. There was only one place left to go.\n\n~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~\n\nI was back at the rally. The lines were more or less straight. There were hundreds of people. Thousands. But only one with slicked black hair and a dark, square mustache.\n\nI flew so fast as my wings could carry me. His face came into focus. He was shouting loudly and angrily. Surely that must take a lot of breath. I shifted by trajectory downwards and though of the last conversation I had with my friends. I rubbed my four shit-covered hands together. The Furher-to-be took a breath between words, and I hit the back of his throat like a semi-truck.",
"In my past life, I was a doctor and highly respected in my field and in my synagogue. I suppose I was still the same man, but my position in life had greatly changed in the last couple of years. I was now at Buchenwald Camp, arguing with a Romani woman who’s German was extremely poor. “So just to be clear, there is absolutely no way you can send me back as a human right?” I asked. \n\nShe shook her head sadly. “How about a bear then?” I inquired. Imagining ripping Hitler to shreds with my claws sent gleeful chills down my spine. The woman looked puzzled. She must not know the word for bear I concluded, after watching her think for a minute. “Can you make me a big animal?” I asked again, putting my arms above my head in an attempt to emphasize size. She shook her head sadly. “To put you down and bring you back and then send you to Berlin, it is all too difficult. I can only do a small animal. That is all,” she explained. \n\nThere was a rustle in the night outside the barrack and she jumped, clutching her stripped uniform closer to her frail body. I put my hands in my head and thought long and hard. Then I came up with my solution. “Can you turn me into a fly?” I asked. “What good will that do?” she muttered bitterly. “Trust me, it will. I can’t explain it now though. When can we do this?” I asked. “We must do it now. There is a full moon tonight and I will not live to see the next one. Follow me,” she said urgently. \n\nWe climbed out the window and slipped underneath the floorboards of the barrack. “Dig there,” she said pointing towards the corner. I got on my knees and clawed at the ground with my hands without asking questions. She began to make a circle of rocks, muttering a chant to herself. I found a black box in the dirt and gave it to her. She opened it and revealed a highly decorated silver knife. “Good,” she said. Now lay down in the circle. Can you see the moon through that crack? It is very important you do not break eye contact with the moon.” I nodded, too terrified to speak. She began chanting in a language I did not know as she circled around me. Then she knelt in front of me and nicked her wrists so her blood was on the tip of the knife. Then she moved directly behind me and I could not see her anymore. I felt the knife move across my throat, but I kept looking at the moon. \n\nThe last thing I heard as I faded into the blackness was an unearthly, scratchy voice. “Follow the girl in the red jacket,” it screeched. Then everything around me vanished. \n\nWhen I opened my eyes, I was in the Berlin and as promised a girl in bright red jacket walked by. She was holding the hand of her father. I felt a pain in my chest as I thought of my own daughter. “Pull it together,” I told myself. “You don’t have time for that. I followed close behind her and flew into the café she walked into. There, in the corner booth was Adolf Hitler, Hermann Goring and an unknown young woman with short light brown hair. Alright, I’ve located him, I thought to myself. Now all I have to do is act.\n\nI flew out the open window by their booth and started searching. Then I found what I was looking for. A rat crawled into a hole in a crumbling building. Where there are rats, there are always rat droppings, I thought gleefully. I swooped down into the hole and searched in the ground for the brown pellets. I stuffed as much as I could fit in my mouth and took off to the restaurant. \n\nWhen I got there, Hermann was just stepping away to go to the restroom. Hitler and the girl were staring into each other’s eyes. I took the opportunity to sneak into Hitler’s sandwich and vomit profusely. “Oh Adolf, I just know you will do so well today. You always do,” the girl said in a dreamy voice. “Thank you Eva, your support means the world to me,” he replied. I guess this conversation makes the vomiting a bit easier, I reasoned optimistically. Once I had emptied my stomach’s contents onto the sandwich, I decided to plan my escape. \n\nUnfortunately, that is when Goring decided to come back. “You must have been talking about something interesting!” he exclaimed. “Neither of you have touched your sandwiches!” Then I felt the sandwich I was standing on being lifted. I felt my wings being crushed by the weight of the cheese. I saw his mouth and moustache lean in ominously towards me. \n\nI pushed myself out of the sandwich, fell on Hitler’s leg and tumbled to the ground. I felt like my whole body was broken and I was so dazed. The trio continued talking for what seemed like hours. I was worried that my plan had not worked, but then my luck began to change. Hitler excused himself to use the restroom and stayed in there so long that Eva got worried and convinced Hermann to check on him. \n\nThen there was screaming. Apparently, he had vomited in the bathroom until passed out. They were taking him to the hospital immediately. He would be forced to miss his big speech. \n\nAs I lay dying on the cold café floor, I did not know if I changed the course of history, but if I delayed the inevitable for just a little longer and just one more life could be saved, it was worth it.\n",
"I was astonished! I had always thought that reincarnation was a bunch of non-sense, yet I knew exactly what happened. My second biggest surprise was that I was fully aware of my previous life and that I had in fact, changed into something else. It took me a while to figure out exactly what I was though, as I was experiencing sensations I had never before even imagined. My body felt different, very different! My brain somehow already knew how to send off neurons to operate my extra legs and understand the multiple signals my eyes were giving it. However, the hardest piece of new information to understand came from the weightless yet extremely tight and pinching sensation coming from the top of my back. I instinctively moved this muscle down and shockingly, I was no longer sitting on the plank of wood I was nano seconds ago, I was in the air! I had wings! That's when it dawned on me that I was a fly.\n\nMy heart sank as I came to the realization that I was one of my previous life's least liked creatures. I recalled how many flies I slayed and felt so guilty. I thought I must have lived a lousy human life. I quickly shook those feelings away, along with the feelings of hatred for flies. I thought, \"maybe flies are not so terrible, I was just never fair to them. Maybe life as a fly will be much better than life as a human. After all, a fly does not work, does not climb social ladders, and does not have to care about what happens tomorrow.\"\n\nI also realized that I was not recognizing any of my surroundings. I definitely was not in my previous life's little town in Oregon. Everything felt much different, and it was not just my new perspective; I was fully aware that I did not recognize the landscape. I decided to test out my new body and fly forward. Due to the wind and my big round eyes, I found flying forward as a jet would impossible. I had to fly around with big curves to move forward. I got used to it, but it was a rather exhausting experience that required me to land and take small breaks in between curving forward.\n\nAs I kept this up for a few hours, I felt I had aged decades. I felt considerably older, almost as if my time of existing would run out in a few days. I longed for meaning, for purpose, even as a fly. As I crawled forward with a mind full of complexity, I saw in the northeast portion of my eye a man that seemed recognizable to me. Behind him were a blur of other faces, hundreds of them. But this one face struck me as familiar, though I wasn't sure since it was hard to see every piece of his face as my old human eyes saw. I decided to fly closer to try and figure out if I could name this fellow. I buzzed onward and flew so that each portion of my eye could take in a glimpse of his face. Apparently I flew too close, because he nearly hit me with his hand. I didn't feel his hand, but I felt the trail of wind it made. As I flew upside down for just a fraction of a second the realization of who this person was hit me like a sudden flood. It was Adolf Hitler. I was in Germany. The men behind him were Nazis. This was moments because the events of the Holocaust and catastrophe of a world war. Not only did I re-spawn as a different creature, I re-spawned a few years earlier than when my previous life ended. I knew what was going to happen.\n\nI felt uneasy. Yes, I was a fly and the events that would soon transpire would leave me ultimately unfazed in my new existence. However, I remembered my human friends, my family, all that was good about humanity. I felt the need to act. As far as I knew, I was the only one in the universe with knowledge about what this man would be responsible for. But, I could not speak. I could not pick up a weapon. I had nothing to offer. I felt so old, being a fly for roughly 24 hours by this point. I decided to keep the German leader in part of my vision perimeter. I landed on a tree in the shade and rested. I wanted to get higher off the ground, so I quickly crawled higher on the trunk of the tree. I stopped suddenly when out of an eighth of my eye I saw underneath a sprouting branch the most terrifying thing I ever saw. I could not perceive color the way I used to as a person, but I could tell this thing was dark. I struggled to determine how far away I was from this huge, brooding figure of intimidation. I tilted my neck as much as I could and estimated, though I could have been fatally wrong, that I was about a foot and a half away from this monster. I reluctantly examined the figure some more. It was a giant, easily 10 times my size. It had eight legs, fangs, a round body, a heinous face, and.. what was that? I scanned it's belly to see the strangest shape a different color from the rest of her body. I could not make out the shape easily because my eyes saw everything in separated pieces, but as I adjusted it started to appear like two triangles touching at the tip. Then it dawned on me that it was an hourglass shape. I understood what I was staring at, and I buzzed with fright. This was a black widow and for the first time that I could remember, it was much larger than I was. My buzzing in fear proved to be a big mistake, as it somehow caught the attention of the monster. The beast shifted its body toward me and dashed for me. Somehow I instinctively knew what to do, I flexed my back muscles and flew off the tree. I safely landed on the grass, a good two feet from the base of the tree. I rested on a blade of grass as I took in all the thoughts I just experienced.",
"\"Are you kidding me?\" I tried to say, but the only sound that I could make was the annoying buzz of my two wings. My body had been transformed, many times smaller than my original, and I had six limbs instead of four. That pesky creature turned me into a useless house fly.\n\nI had only myself to blame. They said you should always be careful when making deals with the genie, but the last thing that I had in mind when I asked for the opportunity to end World War II in the most effective was to be reincarnated as a fly. I had hoped to obtain something like Iron Man's suit or be granted superpowers, but the genie had better idea.\n\nI flew in zig zag and almost crashed to the ground trying to use my new body, having to control two wings and six limbs, while having an almost 360 degree vision was no easy feat. Luckily for me, the multitude of men around me were too focused on something else to notice me.\n\nEventually I managed to familiarize myself with my body, and flew to a nearby wall to get my bearings. That genie just snapped his fingers without bothering one bit to explain where he was sending me. I made a mental note to obliterate him with my second wish.\n\nMy eyes then scanned my environment, noticing that there were numerous men gathered. All of them wore red band on their arms, with an all too familiar logo printed on it. The swastika. They were all looking in one direction, and my auditory receptors picked up the voice of an angry man yelling gibberish into the microphone. I was literally a fly on the walls during a Nazi Party rally.\n\nI flew higher to see who was speaking. And lo and behold, it was the man himself. Adolf Hitler. Fiery, loud and charismatic. Fire burned in all of those men's eyes. The genie did fulfill his end of the bargain. I was given the chance to prevent World War II, just like I wished. \n\nBut what can a fly do? I had no weapons, no backup, nothing. I hovered closer to the stage, trying to formulate a plan.\n\nIt was then when I realized than whenever Hitler spoke, his mouth opened wide and long. More than enough space for a quick bug to rush in. Maybe... just maybe...\n\nI closed my eyes and flew straight for his mouth.\n\nAnd for my second wish, I wished that I would make it out there alive.\n\n----------\n\n*Can you choke from a fly barging into your open mouth? Who knows. More stories at /r/dori_tales!*",
"\"My name was Jonathan\" I found myself saying my name for the third time to the beam of light floating behind the service counter. The beam shifted and let out a low frequency rumble. \"Look, I gotta go back down now.\" I started.\n\nThe beam rumbled again and I remembered Mary, \"My name is Mary,\" I told the beam my name for the fourth time. \"Honestly, I'm tired of getting the run around\" I said wincing at the unexpected heat I felt running through me. \n\nThe room shifted and where a beam had been before a small child in a suit sat. \n\n\"I've made a through check of the data here.\" The child began, \"Human reincarnation is for sixth tier souls. It looks like you've lived pretty selfish lives.\" \n\nI wrinkled my nose and started to try to pursuade the child by recounting the jobs I had created. The child stopped me, \"I have to say,\"Someone made a mistake sending you back down in human form two lives ago.\" The child licked his finger and thumbed through the papers on the desk in front of him \"This office has been disorganized ever since a third of our staff walked out\" \n\n\"What tier am I,\" I said barely hiding my impatience with the now teenage form behind the desk. \"Tier two,\" he managed while his hair which a moment ago had been long and dark began slowly receding. \"Tier two!\" I shook my head in disbelief. \"I'm a business leader! A man of the people!\" \n\n\n",
"I couldn't believe it. I was actually there.\n\nMy geometrical eyes showed me every angle around me. I rubbed my hands together mischievously, thinking of everything I could do.\n\nQuickly, I launched myself into the air, my wings beating a million miles a minute, and I shot myself directly at his ear. A flash caught the corner of my eye, and I diverted my direction to fly straight up, barely missing his finger tips. Even with my heightened speed, he was almost just as fast -- a single hit from his hand could knock me out cold!\n\nI looped around and shot myself at his left eye, but again, he swiped and I dodged.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" asked the deep voice of the man behind him.\n\n\"There's a pesky fly--!\" he said with another swipe. \"--that's trying to attack me!\"\n\n\"Ignore it,\" the first man replied. \"It's almost your time to speak!\"\n\nHe slowly approached the microphone. \"*This is my last shot!*\" I thought, as I sat on the podium, waiting for him to get closer before I launched my assault on his nostril.\n\nJust as he stepped up, his eyes stared down at me, and hand came down. My fight or flight instinct kicked in and I tried to fly away, turning away from him and heading towards the crowd.\n\nBut I was too slow -- the palm of his hand smacked me square on my back, sending me plummeting to the ground. \n\nAs I looked back, I noticed his hand just...froze, in mid air, palm down. \"*Did he...did he just...*\"\n\nWhen I hit the floor, I couldn't help but look around -- everyone had raised their hands in unison, following Hitler's lead. \n\nI just helped Hitler create his salute.\n\n\"Well, fuuuuuuuu...\""
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[WP] Everytime you sneeze, someone in the world gets rich instantly. Its allergy season. | 1 | [
"\n**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) [](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) [](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) [](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatroom)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"It was okay at first. It was even funny.\n\nIt took a while to work out the pattern. Not many people go and check the stock market for unexpected hikes after every sneeze, after all. And it wasn't that predictable, either - one sneeze might result in a sudden hike of some stock prices, the next caused a lottery win, the next prompted an eccentric billionnaire to leave his fortune to a random good samaritan and then shoot himself. I'd challenge you to find a pattern in that.\n\nI really noticed it when I had a nasty cold this winter. For two days, I was sneezing a dozen times a day, and the stock market went into chaos. The lottery jackpot spiked to a billion dollars, then was won by twelve people at once. That caused a few arguments. So many billionaires were dying that the FBI was investigating the possibility of assassination.\n\nThen my cold cleared up, and everything went back to normal. The market stabilised, the fortunate people blew their money in a few months and ended up bankrupt, and the FBI taskforce was disbanded.\n\nBut now I had an inkling of what was going on.\n\nI started sniffing pepper experimentally. I sneezed, the market spiked. The cause and effect was very clear. It seemed totally random *who* got the money, but the pattern was undeniable.\n\nThen...oh, gods, then...\n\nThen I developed hayfever.\n\nWithin a week, the stockmarket, destabilised by these sudden spikes in value, had crashed completely, taking the economy with it. The lottery winners found their millions of dollars suddenly worthless. Anarchy ensued.\n\nThe first time I sneezed after the crash, things started to get crazy. News reports began to flood in - a solid-gold meteor had landed in China, making several factory workers both suddenly incredibly rich, and incredibly dead. What was left of the world's financial systems went into shock as the value of gold dropped.\n\nI begged for a claritin, but nobody was willing to trade.\n\nAnother sneeze, and a landslide revealed a mountain of silver in an African farmer's back garden. I understand he survived nearly ten hours before everyone in the region stampeded into his land.\n\nBenadryl would work too. Medical supplies are too valuable though.\n\nCopper in Brazil, titanium in Canada, and each time the material's value plummeted the moment it was found. A very focused, isolated monsoon hit the middle of the sahara, drowing a whole party of bedouins. I've no idea which of them the water belonged to.\n\nNow it's started to rain fish in Germany and bread in New York. There's no way out of it. There's only one way this can finish.\n\nI hope the world can forgive me. To whoever finds this note, I strongly advise you *not* to rub the old lamp under my bed. If you do...be more careful than I was."
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