Split (1)

train · 265k rows

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
	[WP] In an effort to fight ISIS, we resurrect a Waffen-SS division with their period correct equipment to do it for us. Despite being confused, they agree.	53	[ "\nOff-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 they said \"everything from the 1940s,\" they meant it. Planes, tanks, K98k rifles, MP40 machine pistols, MG42 machineguns...and meth. Holy shit, these guys did a lot of meth. They called it Pervitin, we call it meth, and the Third Reich would have made Heisenberg more wealthy than God. \n\n\"We cannot fight without it, Herr Walker. We fight hard, we fight for days on end, and this is the crux of it all. We need the Pervitin.\" Sturmbannfuhrer Hjort adjusted his Sig rune lapel pins as he spoke. \n\n\"We don't have Pervitin, per se, but we do have something that could do the job.\"\n\n\"I'd rather have the genuine article, but if there is none to be found, I shall take what I can get.\"\n\n\"I am not happy about it, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer, but they will go with you to Iraq and Syria. In return, you must promise not to murder the innocent. Only those who raise arms against you.\"\n\n\"It is no wonder why your nation has no stomach for war anymore. You have no stomach to fight it completely. You fight by rules and committees. You can't finish it.\"\n\n\"You couldn't finish, either. You tried to kill an entire race. You failed. You tried to take over Europe. You failed. But now, you will succeed. Wipe the ISIS scourge from the Middle East. Fight on the right side of history, for once, and maybe you can bring some honor back to your family's names.\" \n\nTWO WEEKS LATER\n\nIt didn't take long for the 98th SS Division to find action upon first entry into Syria. Outside Aleppo, they made contact with the terrorists. Rottenfuhrer Hartmann had seen a terrorist lining up a shot with an RPG-7, and raised his K98k carbine, aiming a shot. He squeezed the trigger, but missed wildly. \"What the hell?!\" Hartmann yelled as he racked a new round clumsily. God, his face itched something awful. He turned to his rifleman, a young Swabian named Schwartzentruber. Instead of the young, sandy-haired boy, he saw a demon with goat horns, white, lifeless eyes; and broken, jagged teeth half gone. Hartmann swung the heavy wooden butt of his rifle, catching the demon where his chin would have been, before spinning the rifle in his hands and stabbing it through the abdomen with the bayonet. Schwartzentruber fell with a confused yell that became his death rattle. Another demon spun in circles with his finger holding down the trigger of his MP40, spewing a river of lead as his comrades fell.\n\nFrom the rear, Brigadier General Walker watched the chaos unfold, as meth-addled Nazis blasted away at each other. \"Dammit, I knew we should have sent Delta Force and Seal Team 2. This went to hell in a heartbeat.\"\n", "\n\t“So… you want us to do what, exactly?” The Nazi officer, with his slicked-back hair and kindly face, spoke lightly-accented English. Had I not known who he was, I might not have noticed the accent.\n\tI leaned back in my chair and slid the cigarettes and ash tray across the table, crossing my arms behind my head and looking at the ceiling. \n\t“The world’s changed since you’ve been gone, Field Marshal. I’m not going to get into too much detail, but you Axis fellas lost the war, and lost it bad.”\n\tThe marshal’s face betrayed no emotion at this news. I hadn’t expected him to react.\n\t“Unfortunately, it’s no more peaceful today than it was seventy-four years ago. A bunch of bastards calling themselves ISIS- Islamists- I’m sure you’re familiar- are threatening to overrun the Middle East. They’re like cockroaches, Field Marshal- which is where you come in.”\n\tThe marshal leaned eagerly across the table, his piercingly blue eyes suddenly filled with life.\n\t“Yes?”\n\t“We’re out of options. We need someone who’s familiar with the territory to go in and sort these bastards out. You’ll have all the resources you need at your disposal.”\n\tConcern flashed across the marshal’s face. “My equipment?”\n\t“In the crates outside. Vehicles are waiting in the motor pool- we went to some trouble to find everything you requested.”\n\t“And my men?”\n\tI paused. “That proved to be more of a challenge. We weren’t able to bring back your men like we brought you back. I’m not sure why- the lab boys wouldn’t explain. We were able to reassemble III Corps, though- the SS. I know it’s not what you asked for, but it’s the best we could do.”\n\tThe marshal shrugged. “I suppose, colonel, that beggars can’t be choosers, as it were.” He stood, dusting off his tunic, and fixed his cap on his head. “Shall we, then?”\n\tI stood as well, and pushed my chair in. “Right this way, Mr. Rommel.”\n", "Little did we know it at the time, but the war's end was just a stone's throw away after operation Nazi-Zombie successfully launched. In the modern age of smart phones and snuff films carefully produced and curated by ISIS, we'd forgotten much about our history.\n\nThese SS guys, let me tell ya. I've been trying to put my finger on it, you know, I mean I guess it's part of my job anyway. But I've been serving a good 12 years here in the psych warfare division, and I remember before all this started I'd told 'em that ISIS was as good as it gets. And here I am now, almost wishing that were still true.\n\nSo these SS guys, right, we tried to keep 'em away from the ISIS propaganda because we just didn't know about their morale, but sure enough, those clever little krauts, they found their way to it. We miscalculated their reaction; they were almost amused by what they considered amateur work. After we won, I asked their leader what they thought about it all, he just chuckled. I think I remember him saying, \"Ven zey do ze bad fings, it's like, you know, ze are only doing it for ze camera. Vat's ze point of zat?!\"\n\nSo yeah, tough guys. You know we told them over and over this war was in a desert, but they wouldn't go without their flamethrowers. And really, we hadn't produced flamethrowers in years and years, but they insisted. We had to rustle a team to make exactly what they wanted, and it took 16 hour days and teams of junkyard scavengers and engineers to get it put together. \n\nOf course they were disappointed. Germans are always disappointed. They took one look at the units we'd made and gave a condescending chuckle, the kind of chuckle only a German can give you. That one little chuckle, it's hard to describe, it really is.\n\nThe reason it's really scary when a German chuckles at you like that... hmm... It's like what they're invoking, you know? Even as a psyops expert, I have a hard time not getting a bit fazed by it myself. In that one chuckle they're invoking this glorious past-- a past known for all the greatest philosophers, great music, writing, culture-- and then there's that dark chuckle, where in that very same past they were also responsible for some of the worst atrocities in history. A kind of, \"Let my friend improvise on this Chopin while I cut your balls off and stuff them in your mouth\" frightening-charm.\n\nBut anyway, we flew them over there and the whole ISIS thing, well, it almost didn't work out. They got into the Caliphate and after we kicked a few doors down they'd found more than their fair share of copies of Mein Kampf. It was awkward for all of us. You know, if somebody had just played the intro from The Office, I think even our best agents would have cracked at the awkwardness.\n\nWe explained over and over that they have these books to use as toilet paper. Eventually they believed us, and concluded that these brown people must be whatever the Jews turned into, and after that, the killing ramped up big time. \n\nWe actually had a hard time with it, because they were just killing everybody. Like, poor Rodriguez, he was our youngest Captain, just a normal night doing perimeter and they smoked him. After that we really had to be careful about who we kept around their unit. It's ironic, isn't it, that the only ushers for these Nazi-Zombie bastards ended up being as white as can be? Plenty of 'em felt bad about it, but we didn't want to lose more men like Rodriguez." ]	[ 1, 4, 5, 19 ]	[ "1502547480", "1502564937", "1502565287", "1502555877" ]
	[WP] Everything on the internet is actually true.	19	[ "\nOff-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 grandma was never the smartest woman when it came to technology. When I was 8, she accidentally got her identity stolen by emailing her social security number to a Nigerian scammer on Aol. When I was 12, she lost $1000 trying to win a Wal-Mart gift card from a pop-up ad. When I was 18 though, everything changed.\n\nI went to visit my grandmother as she was very ill and didn't have the energy to visit my family's house. Upon my arrival, I noticed a few differences from the last time I was there. For starters, there was a 2017 BMW i8 in her driveway.\n\nHuh that's strange, I thought. My grandma hasn't driven farther than the local super market in 6 years!\n\nOnce I walked up to her porch, there were 15 packages sitting there unattended. I knocked on the door and waited what felt like ages for anyone to answer. \n\nTo my surprise, my feeble grandmother wasn't the one to open the door, it was NBA All Star Michael Jordan!!\n\nSorry about the wait. Are you looking for Gertrude? asked the celebrity right in front of me.\n\nI was in absolute shock and didn't know what to say! I thought I was going crazy!! \n\nAre you Michael Jordan? I exclaimed.\n\nHaha. Why yes! Who are you? Michael Jordan asked.\n\nI'm uhh Gertrude's grandson. What are you doing here? I suspiciously questioned.\n\nOh! You haven't heard? Your grandmother completed a survey on aolsurveys.net and chose meeting an NBA All Star as a prize! said Michael Jordan gleefully.\n\nWait a minute, I thought. That's the website that stole my grandmother's identity 10 years ago!\n\nUh, that-uh worked? W-wh-what do you mean? I stammered.\n\nLook, I'm on my way out so I'll just have your grandmother explain. Come in! \n\nI never thought in my wildest dreams that Michael Jordan would be inviting me into my grandmother's house.\n\nOnce I entered her house I immediately noticed a huge differences. The whole house was decked out with Roman archetictured pillars coming from the floor with granite tiling and expensive leather couches. It was extremely tacky but also EXTREMELY expensive! \n\nAnother look around the house unveiled so many other hidden treasures! I counted 28 iPads lying plugged into various outlets and scattered on her bedside table. There were also pages and pages of Target coupons lying on a coffee table by a brand new 4K OLED Samsung TV. \n\nThe only thing missing was my grandma! I ran around the house several times trying to find her and she was nowhere to be seen. Then, it hit me; The computer room! \n\nI pushed aside a stack of a variety of new iPhone boxes by the kitchen and found her sitting there, right in front of her computer.\n\nShe was wearing a mink coat despite it being 93 degrees outside and sat on a chair designed to look like a prop from Game of Thrones. On her desk were 8 separate monitors hanging from monitor stands extremely eerily. Most eerie was how she looked; Not a single wrinkle or inch of cellulite on her. She also looked extremely fit.\n\nGrandma?, I asked. What are you doing? What is all this stuff? Why do you look so different?\n\nAt that point, my grandma started laughing. She broke into hysterics. The harder she laughed, the more she shook. \nAs she shook, a handful of pill bottles fell out of her coat with labels that said things like \"The Medicine Doctors DON'T Want You to Know About!\" and \"The One Trick to REMOVE WRINKLES!!\". \n\nAs this is going on, I begin reading what is open on my grandmother's plethora of monitors. To my surprise, she's typing up an article on some local news site. The title of the article sent a shiver up my spine like nothing I've ever felt before:\n\n\"Local resident Getrude, 86, commits genocide on her Nassau County family\"\n\nThe last thing I hear from my grandmother's hysteric mouth was one sentence that I've been told the opposite of my whole entire life: Everything you read on the internet is true, my deary\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------\n\nSorry for the formatting. I'm submitting this on mobile. This is the first writing prompt I've ever done so give me some feedback!!" ]	[ 1, 7 ]	[ "1502551676", "1502557488" ]
	[WP] When you die, you are allowed to roll 1 six-sided die once. This die determines everything about your next life: looks, luck, etc. Roll an online die, tell us the number, and write a short excerpt about your next life.	16	[ "\nOff-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 is time\" \n\n \"for what\" I ask inquisitively as I peer up at the looming figure across the desk from me.\n\n\"To roll the die.\"\n\nI could feel the blank stare of stupidity on my face.\n\n\"The priest did give you a die right?\"\n\n\"He tried but I was busy trying to call my mom to tell her I loved her.\"\n\n\"Well this has never happened before, I'm not sure what to do now.\" Death was at an utter loss for words.\n\n\"Siri, roll a dice\"\n\"OK... Four.\"\n\n\"What? What the hell was that?\"\n\n\"Siri, she's like a virtual assistant in my phone.\"\n\n\"Oh, well okay then, I... guess that... works\" he told me apprehensively. \n\n\"I mean I can have her roll again if you want to prove it works\"\n\n\"No, no, no that won't be necessary.\"\n\n\"But I mean, come on, a four, I feel like I could do better. That pretty mediocre.\" \n\n\"No! You roll what you....\n\n\"Siri roll a dice!\" I quickly interrupted.\n\"OK... 6.\"\n\n\"You little shit\"\n\n\n--- 45 years later ---\n\n\nI slowly opened my eyes and see my wife peacefully sleeping next to me. Only something seems different it's July and the windows are open to our rooftop balcony but it's freezing cold.\n\nI get up and walk out to see a gorgeous sunset coming up making the skyscrapers shimmer like towers of gold. I turn around to see that same looming figure from so long ago standing behind me. \n\n\"What... what... what're you doing here.\"\n\n\"It's your time, look.\" He points his long bony hand in the direction of my bed. \n\nIn it I see myself and my wife with a single gunshots wounds to our foreheads. Walking out the door I see my brother. \n\n\"What why?\"\n\n\"He hates you. Always has. Said you're life was too easy.\" \n\n\"How could He? He was my brother\"\n\n\"I mean he's kind of right, you're easy to hate. You were valedictorian in high school, went to Harvard MED and finished first in your class, married your college sweetheart and had two beautiful kids who are successful and living on their own, discovered the cure for cancer but didn't patent it because \"that would be wrong\", then hit the power ball lottery for $6 billion and didn't have to split it with anyone. Now you're retired at 45 living it up with your gorgeous wife. Without a care in the world\"\n\nI dropped to the floor \"But we're brothers.\"\n\n\"Well he's always been mediocre. He's just barely scraped by his entire life.\"\n\nI started to cry\n\n\"He didn't get a Re-roll.\"" ]	[ 1, 9 ]	[ "1502563547", "1502571466" ]
Inspired by [an old NYT article ](http://www.nytimes.com/1989/03/28/business/nuclear-war-plan-by-irs.html) about the existence of an IRS plan to resume collections 30 days after a nuclear war.	[WP] It's been 30 days since the nuclear war with North Korea and you are beginning to lose hope. There has been no radio broadcast, no military response, no aid. Suddenly, a man appears at your door. He is from the IRS, the only surviving branch of the federal government, and he is here to collect.	446	[ "\nOff-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/goldandblack] [Writing Prompts and the IRS. Some interesting reading including a NYT article from Bush the Elder era (X-post)](https://np.reddit.com/r/GoldandBlack/comments/6tgcu8/writing_prompts_and_the_irs_some_interesting/)\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)", "“Motherfucker!” I groaned as I lit the last candle in the house. \n\n“Stupid ass matches.” a sigh escaped my lips as I looked around my small house. Well, I should say my house. This house still technically belonged to my parents. They just had to go on that stupid DC trip last month. But I can’t continue to spend time thinking about them passing, I have to stay focused on staying alive. I know they would have wanted the best for me. \n\t\nLuckily surviving hasn’t been too hard, only the occasional raider groups. But they are as scared as I am. All it takes is putting on a gas mask, picking up an axe, and screaming like I’m insane for them to go running. Even if someone did manage to break in, they would be pretty underwhelmed. My cupboards only held small amounts of things like kale, whole wheat crackers, copious amounts of tomato soup, and other very stale and overly healthy foods. It wasn't my choice, it was what my parents always had me eat. If it was up to me, I’d be lying in piles of marshmallows and fruit snacks. \n\t\nIf it wasn't for the murderous groups of people the visited me every once in a while I would have thought that everyone was gone. The electricity has been wiped out, the radio just comes back as static, and my cell phone no longer gets reception. \n\t\nMy attention was turned towards the door where a soft, but demanding, knocking was heard.\n\n“Great,” I muttered out loud, stomping towards the door and peeping through the peep hole. Normally The raiders wore thick and tattered clothing with masks, but all that was standing in front of my door was an Asian woman with clean hair, makeup, and a suit-dress. She looks as if the US was never stuck in this post-apocalyptic hell. I reached for the axe by my door, but I didn’t bother grabbing my gas mask since she didn’t seem to be afraid to show her face.\n\nWith a trembling hand, I swung open the door. \n\n“Hello. I am Dae Ho and I’m looking for a..” The woman paused looking down at her clipboard before looking back up at me, “A Mr. and Mrs. Stockholm.” \n\n“Unfortunately for you, they are unavailable at this time,” I spoke firmly swinging the door shut, but before it could close fully the woman held out her palm to keep it from shutting. \n\n“They are late for their taxes, I really need to speak with them.” I couldn't help but burst out into laughter, but her face was firm and unchanging.\n\n“This has got to be some sort of fucking sick joke.” I snickered, crossing my arms. “D.C. got fucking nuked, who the hell would believe this IRS act?” I glared at her.\n\n“The IRS is the last surviving branch of the government, and as representative of the IRS, we are supposed to keep the peace and continue our job.” The woman whipped out a badge from her pocket. After she stuck her badge back into her pocket, the woman pushed past me to step inside.\n\n“Excuse me, you can't just fucking step in here like you own the joint!” I started to rebel but she stopped me.\n\n“Actually I can. If you can’t pay your taxes you’ll just have to suffer the-” A gurgling sound left her throat as her head made a loud slam against the entry way’s tile. Soon her body fell next to her head as I dropped the axe next to me.\n\n“Fucking IRS.”\n(this is my first time writing one of these so I'd love to get some constructive critisim!) ", "Alright, I guess I will kick this off then because I am excited to see what people come up with. Shoutout to u/Ghosttwo for providing me with [the inspiration](https://www.reddit.com/r/YouShouldKnow/comments/6takyx/comment/dljcvoq?st=J69Z02I0&sh=4c7cfec9)!\n\nStory time:\n\nA frail man dressed in human bones and shredded tires was sitting in a broken lawn chair in a small field of debris. His skin was jaundiced and he appeared to have been waiting for quite some time to get his money order processed. I squinted my eyes to get a better look at him. There was no movement. Was he sleeping or dead? I was too weak to care, so I pushed the thought out of my mind and approached the IRS checkpoint.\n\nA large, ill-tempered black woman rhythmically drummed her press-on nails against the old toilet she used as a desk. \n\n\"Take a number\" she stated flatly, \"and wait by the rubble pile until you are called.\" She lifted the toilet seat and retrieved a dead leaf, then scrawled something on it with a piece of charcoal and handed it to me: one thousand, nine hundred and seventy-two. Surely she can't be serious. \"LORD ALMIGHTY!\" she exclaimed to no one in particular, then snatched the tattered leaf back out of my hand, tore off a small piece, and handed it back. I looked around in disbelief, confirming what I already knew. There was no one within sight besides me, her, and the emaciated body in the lawn chair that I passed on the way in. Probably no one else within a dozen miles. Confused, I asked \"Is this the total number of people you have seen here? I'm the only one around except for the dying man in the rubble pile, not many of us left around here...\" \n\nBeads of sweat appeared above her eyes as she wrinkled her face in displeasure. She began to quiver with rage, then raised a corpulent hand and started to snap her sausage-like fingers while bobbing her head from side to side. \"Did. I. Not. Make. Myself. Clear?\" She carried on before I had a chance to answer and started to fan herself with a scrap of plywood. She looked to the sky and bellowed, \"Lord, tell me where this child went so wrong! Does he not understand that we have rules and regulations!? Does he not know how to wait to take his damn turn!?\" She turned back to me. \"Take your bony ass over to that lawn chair, sit down, and shut your pie hole! DO NOT come back over until your number is called.\" \n\nShe scribbled something down on the small square she had torn out of my leaf, then grabbed a rock and an old finger bone. She had her back to me as she pounded away at something, then turned around with a smug look on her face and stepped aside so I could admire her work. She had hammered the finger bone into a tree stump to tack up the leaf shred, upon which she had written: \"1\".\n\n\"Number one, you may now come to the counter! Number one!\" \n\nThe frail man stirred at the sound of her voice. His movements were pained and his hands shook as he withdrew a small patch of cloth from the shredded tire around his waist. It was finally time! He would be able to pay for the medicine he needed to treat the radiation sickness that was ravaging his body. It had been six days since he received his number. He had to be next. Delicately he unfolded the cloth to check his number. One thousand, nine hundred and seventy-one. \n\n\"Number one, last chance!\" The frail man looked at his number in disbelief. He raised his hand towards me and opened his mouth to speak, then shuddered and collapsed into a heap. I heard a terrible rattle as the air in his lungs escaped for the last time. Then silence.\n\nWhen no one approached, she waddled back behind the old toilet and let out a deep sigh as she lowered her ample rear onto a cinder block and sat down. She opened the top of the toilet reservoir and removed a yellowed and stained copy of \"Seventeen\" magazine, then turned her back to me and began to read through it. I looked down at my number again, which still read \"1,972\", and let out an exasperated sigh. Why did it have to be the IRS? \n\n\n\n\nEDIT: yeah, I just realized I kind of blew off the IRS guy showing up and went straight to a world run by the IRS. Was not planning to write a story but got inspired so it is what it is", "Three sharp raps on the door and adrenaline shot through me. I grabbed my rifle and crept towards the door, walking on the balls of my feet, trying to be completely silent. Now the hard part: to risk glancing through the peephole, or yank the door open and bank on surprise. A month of nuclear winter makes you less risk averse than usual; I jerked the door open, finger held loosely on the trigger.\n\nThe man outside visibly started. He was only the third person I'd seen in the last two weeks, and as far as I knew, the only other person alive in a two-mile radius, at least since the incident with my neighbor. He was wearing a suit that, at one time, had been expensive. But now it was streaked and smeared with dust and dirt, one sleeve half torn at the shoulder, the legs nothing but tattered rags. Toes peeked out of his left shoe, and the right was held together with duct tape. An argyle knit tie was missing the bottom half and was charred around the edges. His hair was greasy and matted, the beard unkempt.\n\n\"Ah!\" he sad, shocked. \"Mister Johnson, I did not expect to find you home. My name is Ted Simons, and I work for the internal revenue service. I'm here because...wait, please hold on a moment.\" \n\nHe knelt down and popped the one functioning lock on a battered briefcase that looked one decent wind gust from evaporating. Leaving it open on the ground, he stood up, holding a stack of yellowed, water-damaged papers that crinkled loudly as he riffled through them, before finding the one he was looking for and setting it atop the pile.\n\nBrow furrowing, he examined the sheet, then picked up again. \"Right, I'm here because routine audits showed a discrepancy in your 2016 filing. This discrepancy increases your tax liability by 2,089 dollars. Perhaps I could come inside and we could discuss this further, maybe iron out a payment plan...\"\n\nI have never felt the loneliness of the post-nuclear-apocalypse more acutely that that moment, when I desperately needed a friend to whom I could say \"get a load of this guy.\" The tax man stared at me, while my brain labored to formulate a response. I had let the rifle down when he started talking, but now I wondered if that was a mistake--I flashed on a middle school teacher telling us that in medieval times, bandits would dress as beggars to lure you in before setting upon you. \n\n\"Mister...Simons? Simons.\" He nodded. \"Take a look over there.\" I pointed to my left, and he turned to look at the charred remains of the funeral pyre we had erected two days after the event, when we still hoped to keep a society functioning. \"Now look over there.\" I pointed to the right, where buzzards were picking at the entrails of my neighbor, who had been rent asunder by wild dogs three days ago, dying a horrible death before I could chase them off. \"And then behind you.\" I looked over his shoulder at the column of smoke rising just over the hill, where the pipeline had ruptured and ignited, creating a grim eternal flame.\n\nHe turned back and shrugged. \"I'm sorry Mister Johnson. As far as the government is concerned, the fate of your neighbor does not change your tax liability.\"\n\nI was flummoxed. \"Washington, D.C. is a lake of fire.\"\n\nHe nodded, but in a way that indicated he was just humoring me. \"It doesn't seem like I'm getting very far here.\" He handed me the crinkled sheet he'd been looking at, then pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it over. \"You can call me at this number...\"\n\nI laughed. \"Sure. Of course. I'll CALL you...\" I waited for him to catch the obvious joke--phone lines had literally melted, and there was so much radiation in the ionosphere that the sky just glowed purple at all times except for twice a day when it turned blood-red for exactly 32 minutes--but he only stared dully at me. \n\n\"Please be aware that you'll incur penalties and fees if you are not paid in full in 90 days.\" Then he knelt over, closed the briefcase, and picked it up, but the handle broke off and the case clattered to the ground. Unfazed, he hefted it under his arm, nodded slightly, then turned on his heel and left. \n\nI watched him walk down the middle of the ruined road, looking left and right at each house he passed, eyeing the addresses then glancing down at a piece of paper in his hand. As he walked away, I raised my rifle, until I saw the dogs sidle out from the bushes and creep slowly behind him. Then I lowered it again, shaking my head in disgust. The sign had clearly said \"No Solicitors.\"", "I stared at the man in disbelief. I took him all in. The impeccable suit. The perfectly done hair, that flawless skin, the smooth, businesslike voice, and that dammed fake smile. It hadn't even been, what, a month since fallout came like death's cloak over the land? And yet, here he was, expecting me to pay him dues that the rest of the world forgot about long ago. Oh, he's speaking again.\n\n\"... didn't hear me the first time. Very well. My name is John Williams, and I a representative of the IRS. You seem to be late on two payments, coming to a total of-\"\n\nI never did get to hear the total. In one smooth motion, I drew my revolver and put a bullet in his chest, and another between his eyes. He fell to the ground, the look of surprise still etched on his face. \n\nThe nerve of some people.\n\n\"Collect that, mother fucker.\" I stripped him of all his possessions; A wad of cash, some gold pieces, and a cellphone that amazingly still worked. There was a list of collections he was going to try and get from people, and they were all concentrated in a small area. Huh. A survivors camp, or the beginnings of one anyway.\n\nWell. I guess I should go rejoin society. It was getting kinda lonely here anyway.\n__________________________________________________________________________________________\nEdit: Punctuation", "\"Canned goods, ammunition, or precious metals. We've been over this already, sir.\" The man in the tattered Sears suit was well past annoyed and graduating to angry. The large men behind him in equally cheap suits didn't look any happier.\n\n\"And like I told you - I don't have anything. I'm living off of scraps and protein shakes.\" I gesture to the barren kitchen. \"Want some Isopure? Help yourself.\"\n\nHe looks around again, then nods to the bruisers in the back. They start to wander down the hall. The larger of the two stopped in front of my closed basement door and reached for the knob.\n\n\"Hey!\" I said, moving towards them. \"You can't just barge in here and go through my shit. I have rights.\"\n\n\"HAD rights, sir.\" Sears suit rubs the bridge of his nose. \"Continuity of government, National Security Policy Directive 51, yadda yadda. You know what happened to the President - God rest his soul - and the Vice President, Speaker of the House, Secretary of State... As I told you when we got here, the IRS is the last standing branch of the government of this great country. We will uphold law and order. And to do so, you must pay your taxes on time.\"\n\n\"Fuck you and fuck your continuity of government. I just paid my annual taxes before the war,\" I said.\n\n\"I don't have any record of that. Do you have a receipt?\" he asked, barely containing the sarcasm dripping from the question.\n\n\"Well, yeah, on my computer.\" I looked around at the darkened room. \"You're welcome to take it from there if you can turn it on. Electricity is a little scarce these days.\"\n\nHe sighed. \"Sir, you're making this more difficult than it has to be. We want what we're owed, nothing more.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" I said, pointing to the kitchen. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum walked back down the hallway and got to work.\n\nI watched as they tore through what little I had in the cabinets - some Ramen noodles, a few cans of soup, even the protein powder. He gave me a handwritten receipt that said I had paid my taxes for the month in full. And then they left.\n\nI can't help but wonder when they'll stop falling for the angry guy with the bare cupboards routine. I worry they'll check the basement and find the storage room behind the false wall.\n\nBut you know what? They're the government. They're not that smart. I'm pretty sure it'll be ok." ]	[ 1, 1, 2, 10, 25, 45, 153 ]	[ "1502576047", "1502627791", "1502645098", "1502582549", "1502589162", "1502585331", "1502582590" ]
	[WP] A god that has been killed does not die.	3	[ "\nOff-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", "Here I sit inside my burnt Temple.\n\nAround me people sit in awe as they erect a new steeple;\n\nI used to have visage and power to match;\n\nuntil a burning one entered through my window patch.\n\nover shouted slurs, the hoots and the hollers;\n\nmy children inside my barred doors became martyrs.\n\nBut though I'll be forgotten, \n\nonly time my tell;\n\nOf the power they unleashed from the flames of their \"Hell\"\n\nAs they build their monument to the last of their sins.\n\nI replace my anger with love, at these children of sin.\n\n\nMay I have mercy upon their souls...", "They sought to destroy and a eradicate my very existence. it is a little known fact that without worship even gods can die. In every sense of the word I was killed, I no longer had any hold on reality.\n\nWhether it was through war or other acolytes denouncing me or maybe some selfish people were seeking to purge my existence from the history books, I will never know. All I know now is hate.\n\nI have no idea how long I was in limbo. I both always existed and never existed. it was a strange sensation. With no gods there can be no worshipers, with no worshipers there can be no God, but all it takes is one on both sides. \n\nWhether by chance or fate, A small child stumbled upon a delicate necklace with my name on it. It was one of the most beautiful things left on this ruined planet. She became obsessed with it, it never left her side. finally years went by everyday she visited my ruined temple. she learned to read not only her native tongue, but mine as well. \n\nThe place where she had found the necklace had been scoured for any other artifacts. They found plenty, though it was just considered \"Myth\". The girl however, she was always happy with my teachings. I had grown fond of her. Despite being a disgusting protozoa compared to me, \n\nYears passed, the girl, like the rest of the population were atheists. I could not blame them, how or why should they believe in me when I am shrouded from them and cannot show myself!\n\nThe girl, she had visited me over 22,000 times now. Missing almost no chance to explore the ruins. Sometimes she missed a day or two, but it has been weeks. I hope she is ok. I wish I could see beyond my temple. \n\n\" \" \n\nMy essence shook. For the first time in hundreds of millions of years, my name was spoken in reverence. \n\n\" \" I do not want you to save me. Just greet me with open arms, they are going to kill me.\"\n\nOne of my eyes opened. I could see it all again. The sun was now white with a black dot, they called it partial eclipse from a unknown celestial body. I could now see the old woman, standing surrounded by people throwing food at her. Saying she is betraying them for believing in me. A fake God.\n\nA small man walked beside her, grabbing her by the mouth. \"Renounce your ways or hang!\" \n\nShe looked defiant till the end, \" I do not know if my god is real or not. I am just saying that we should be open to all possibilities. What right do you have to see if something does or does not exist. It looks like I will hang, so be it. I've lived a long and fullfilling life.\"\n\nLooking up she stared at my eye, it must have been painful. She started to cry, remembering my most prominent symbol. She prayed in my tounge, a prayer to confirm worship. The hole dropped and she began to plummet with the rope around her throat.\n\nThump, Thump \n\nI could feel again. \n\nWith my first heartbeat, I could again feel the world.\n\nWith my first breath, I could move again. \n\nWith my first step, I sundered all of existence. All but her.\n\nWith my first words I spoke to her.\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 2, 5 ]	[ "1502700510", "1502705147", "1502707798" ]
[removed]	[WP] Write a side character’s (or someone else’s) story in a well-known universe you have never read/seen before. Do NO research. You are free to make everything up as you go.	1	[ "\nOff-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 post, delete and then repost prompts a little later. \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/6tlm7x/wp_write_a_side_characters_or_someone_elses_story/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1502707637", "1502707904" ]
	[WP] You work in an office. Lately, you've been noticing co-workers disappearing for days at a time. They come back...different. You must find out why.	18	[ "\nOff-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 a story of a man na- wait what? Are those voices? Are there other people outside Stanley's door right now? In the office space where there is supposed to be no one? Let me just see who these- oh come on, really now, I have never had another human in this story, and even if I did they wouldn't look so lifeless. It's always been Stanley and I going back and forth as the player tries to discover my various quips and banters, yet now there are these glassy eyed... well I'm just perplexed at this whole situation.\n\nOh, well now Stanley, please just wait right there while I go try to sort this out.\n\nDoor opening noises\n\n^^What ^^in ^^the ^^world ^^is ^^this?\n\nmumbling\n\n^^Are ^^you- ^^WHY?\n\nmumbling\n\n^^I ^^will ^^NOT ^^calm ^^down ^^at ^^this ^^invasion ^^of ^^my ^^work! ^^remove ^^these ^^ruffians ^^at ^^once!\n\nmumbling\n\n^^Oh, ^^just ^^great. ^^no, ^^really, ^^just ^^spit ^^all ^^over ^^my ^^hard ^^work ^^for ^^the ^^fun ^^of ^^it ^^why ^^don't ^^you. ^^It'd ^^be ^^a ^^better ^^excuse ^^than ^^THAT.\n\nmumbling\n\n^^Fine. ^^I ^can ^make this work. \n\ndoor closing noise.\n\nAlright then Stanley, it looks like we're going to have a change of plans for this story. Unfortunately I wasn't exactly prepared for this... unexpected ^and ^unwanted change, but we'll make due. Now then, let's try to make this work, shall we, ahem.\n\n~~~\n\nThis is a story of a man named Stanley. Stanley worked for a big company in a big building, where he was employee number 427. Employee number 427's job was simple. He sat at his desk in room 427, and he pushed buttons on a keyboard. Orders came to him from a monitor on his desk, telling him what buttons to push, how long to push them, and in what order.\n\nThis is what Employee number 427 did everyday, of every month, of every year. And although others might have considered it soul rending, Stanley relished every moment that the orders came in, as though he had been made exactly for this job, and Stanley was happy.\n\nAnd then one day, something very peculiar happened. One of his co-workers, Employee number 426, was called into his boss's office. Nothing that first made Stanley question anything, however once Employee number 426 had returned, Stanley realized that it had been 4 days.\n\nThis had begun setting off alarms in Stanley's head. \"Did I ever see him leave the building? Does something seem off about him? Why was he gone so long?\"\n\nIt all seemed very disconcerting, however Stanley decided not to press on, for fear that he would risk his ever beloved job of pushing buttons. It wasn't until the 8th employee had gone through this string of events that Stanley's curiosity had begun to get the better of him. He began considering using his office phone to call his boss and ask what was happening to the various employees. Unfortunately, that would require him to lose his focus pushing buttons, and Stanley was dissuaded at the idea that he might make a mistake. Perhaps he would hold a button for too long, or press them in the wrong order, or heavens forbid, press a button that he wasn't even prompted to. No, 8 people wasn't enough to warrant such a risk, and so Stanley continued on pressing buttons, the dedicated worker he was.\n\nMonths after such thoughts had been creeping in and out of his mind, Stanley had finally realized something. Everyone in his office had gone missing for a lengthy period of time. Some only 2 or 3 days, others for weeks at a time. Every one of them seemed... different now. Glassy stares with slow, methodical motions to their jobs. It was almost as if the humanity was sucked from their being, left a husk waiting for... something to happen.\n\nThose thoughts could no longer be ignored. It was as though Stanley was alone in his office. No longer with co-workers, but robots far more rigid than he. A phone call would no longer cut it, no this was going to have to require a direct approach. Stanley had no choice but to ask his boss in person.\n\nStanley would have to go through the meeting room to get to his boss's office. Perhaps there were others with the same questions as him, convening to decide what to do.\n\nWhen Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on hi- oh Stanley. As much as I would adore to go on an adventure of wit, unfortunately I have been told that we must go through with this progression of events without any detours. It pains me to force this on the both of us, however I have no choice but to do my due diligence, and I cannot let you through that right door.\n\nStanley rustles right door's knob\n\nOh my... seeing you like this, so determined to break the mold. It brings a tear to my eye. I cannot stand to do this, I shudder at the thought, but... listen Stanley, I admit it hurts to even consider carving this story into ribbons just to meet this insane status quo, so I can't go through with narrating this... adventure-less \"adventure\" for long. I'll make this as quick as possible, as we only have to do it once. The way to the boss's office is completely open, please get down there as fast as possible to that we can be finished with this madness and get back to an entertaining story progression.\n\nStanley goes to his boss's office\n\nStepping into his manager's office, Stanley was stunned to find the very man he planned to question under the same trance-like state as his other co-workers. Just as strange, a large, open door now sat where his manager's fire place once covered the wall. It appeared as though that fireplace was simply hiding a more ominous secret than it ever appeared to. Stanley had decided to step through this open passageway.\n\nStanley Enters an elevator through the door\n\nDescending deeper into the building, Stanley realized he was feeling a bit peculiar. It was a stirring of emotion in his chest, as though he felt more free to think for himself, to question the nature of his job. Why did he feel this now, when for years, it had never occurred to him. This question would go unanswered for now.\n\nStanley walked straight ahead to the large door with no signs, however there is faded paint that looks as though housed large letters on it that read out \"mind control facility.\"\n\nWithin... there was nothing but a Dark room, save for the metal pathway leading to a console, lit by lights hanging overhead. As Stanley reached the console, he realized a familiar feeling began to wash over him. There was a terminal facing him, commanding him as his terminal in office 427 always had. It was mesmerizing as he began pressing buttons as though he was once again in his office and not in a giant dark room, down an elevator, behind a secret door in his boss's office.\n\nWhen the final button was pressed, the entire room whirred to life, and suddenly an giant cylindrical wall of screens turned on in front of Stanley. A title appeared on them. Bright white letters in a multitude of fonts, reading out the truth as to why his co-workers seems so lifeless, why they seemed so... robotic. \"The Stanley Parable... Multiplayer.\"\n\nYou see Stanley... oh dear, mind my shaky voice. It's just so... abominable sniffle. You see Stanley, we are about to have \"friends\" join our story, using your co-workers as a method of exploration. It was a decision by my superiors to freshen up everything with a \"new spin\" on our adventure. They didn't even make it optional. I just, I've been at a loss for words since the beginning. even reading what I'm supposed to say... I made this story for a single person to enjoy, a single person to travel at a time. To force such change... it's a volatile mockery. We must endure, though, Stanley. You and I through a sea of other narrators and people mucking about. We will endure... I hope.\n\n\n^Edit: ^(fiddling around with some phrasing and the introduction)" ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1502718046", "1502752665" ]
Bonus points if your submission is a comedy.	[WP] You are part of a love triangle where the other characters are serial killers and you cannot escape their advances.	2	[ "\nOff-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", "\"Hey...John...wake up...\" My eyes open, sleep blurring my vision. The mix of colors...shifts...and my vision finally clears.\n\nSarah's sitting on my chest, staring at me. She's holding...a head, hand through it's neck, working the mouth like a puppet. \"Sarah says you've gotta help hide me.\" The head, belonging to a young girl, \"says\", Sarah not even pretending to hide the movement of her mouth. \"Ugh...incinerator's in the basement. Did you mop up the blood?\" A massive smile flickers onto her face. \"Yep! Now, I have a body to dump.\" She gives me a quick kiss on the lips. Tastes coppery. \"Bye, John! Sweet dr-\"\n\nThere's a massive slam as her body impacts the wall. Damn. The closet is wide open.\n\n\"You...YOU CAN'T FUCKING KISS HIM. ONLY I GET TO DO THAT.\" Ashley says, arm squished against Sarah's throat. \"Understand me? MY. FUCKING. BOYFRIEND. NOT YOURS.\" Her voice rings out, flat and emotionless, with notes of exhaustion leaking through. \"Y...yes. I knew you were there. I-ugh...win the bet...\" Ashley's eyes flicker with disgust, flushed red cheeks deepening further. \"A...bet...you ruined my boyfriend's chastity for a fucking BET. YOU ARE SO DEAD.\" Ashley presses harder against Sarah's windpipe. Her face is beginning to turn a light shade of red, mirroring Ashley's own. \"...I can one-up you, you little bitch. I'll get John alone, and the-\" \n\nMy hand closes around her ear, clutching down tightly as I pull her away from my best friend.\n\n\"Owowowow...let go...\" I shoot her a look. \"Apologize.\" \"B-But...she kissed y-OW!!! OKAY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!\" Ashley gets on her knees, tears in her eyes (although that's probably more from what I'm doing to her right now), looking at Sarah in desperation. In response, she gets bopped on the nose by a bloodstained finger. \"Forgiven.\" I release her, and she immediately clings to me, whispered \"thank you\"'s flooding my ears. \n\n\"Oh, yeah. By the way...who's the girl?\" Her face brightens, holding up a hand to show the skull impaled on it. \"Oh, it's that girl, Lacy. From Chemistry.\" Ashley visibly relaxes at that, practically melting into my arms. \"OH, THANK GOD. That bitch was getting way too close. I mean, she practically had him on a leash-\" \"She did not.\" My girlfriend glares at me. \"You two shared lunch together, shared food. 18 different 'indirect kisses' at lunch...\" Now I shoot her a glare. \"Weren't you sick that day?\" She fidgets, face burying itself into my shirt. \"I...wanted more time with my collection...but it wasn't enough. Pictures and...other reminders of you...w-weren't enough...so we went on a date-\" \"You can't call it a date if the person you're dating doesn't know you're there.\" \"-and I saw you two practically all over each other. Any minute, and you two probably would have started actually kissing. Those lips are mine.\" She tackles me onto the bed, a piece of cloth fluttering down onto the blanket. \"Hey, are those my boxers? Wait, why do you have my b-\"\n\n\"HEY!\" Sarah stares at us. \"Sorry to interrupt the lovebirds, but...can someone help me with this garbage bag? This bitch is heavy...\" I reluctantly stand up, and grab the bag with both hands, the shape cluing me in. I'm carrying the rest of Lacy. Sarah calmly grabs it at the other end, and we lug it down to the basement.\n**\n\nAshley watches them walk. John's cute today. Cuter than usual. Nice butt, t-* Something flutters out of Sarah's pocket. As they disappear down the stairs, Ashley picks it up. It's...a list.\n\nSarah's To-Do List\n\n▪Push Ashley down stairs. ~~Maybe drink a little...Ash is usually bitter, though, and some of that'll probably carry to her blood...ick...~~\n\n▪Find John. Get him down to basement.\n\n▪CUT UP JOHN ♡♡♡\n\nShit. Ashley grips the note tightly, trying the door. Locked. Gritting her teeth, she rushes at the flimsy portal, practically rotten wood smashing inwards. \"DAMN IT!! JOHN, YOU IN HERE?!\"\n**\n\nI sit in the chair, ropes binding me. Sarah's gotten good. Numerous small cuts dot my form. \n\nDamn...it's Tuesday, isn't it? I really need to get more Band-Aids...*" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1502730278", "1502863013" ]
	[WP] You are an omnipotent God living amongst your most precious creation; humans. You notice your power is slipping and someone has finally started to question who you are.	5	[ "\nOff-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 was the second proudest day of my immortal life: my sons and daughters were taking their first baby steps toward civilization. My proudest day? Obviously when Ross Perot wins the 1992 US election to become president. it's so obvious I never even bothered to look at his inauguration. Why spoil his inevitably inspiring speech? Regardless of my excitement for the future, today also presents cause for celebration. Finally my children have switched from leisurely hunting and gathering to the mindset of agriculture and community leadership. There is no going back after today. These isolated groups will finally prefer their farming and villages to hunting and gathering. \n\nAs I was beaming with fatherly affection, I felt a chill travel down my spine. Almost as if I was traveling through Wyoming, the toilet of the world, I could smell the shit wafting even to my holy abode. I could feel the evil in the air; so thick you could cut it with a knife. No amount of holy water would ever purify this terrible evil.\n\n\"Dave...\" I said with barely controlled contempt. He has been a thorn in my side ever since he was born. When he first began his machinations, I assumed it was just a rebellious phase, something to distract him from his pathetic life. But no, he continues his blasphemy even to this day. I've often wondered if he hates me. Me! His own creator. How can such a creature even continue to live in my world?\n\nDave was standing beside a metal pole in front of a gathering of other villagers for some reason - probably rambling about how the Earth is somehow 4 billion years old or something ridiculous like that. Does he even realize how stupid he sounds? As I was reminding myself of his earlier outburst, I heard the tail end of what Dave shouting.\n\n\"...i believe - nay! - I can prove that this world isn't governed by some imaginary, all-powerful being as you all were told.\" Dave exclaimed to the villagers.\n\n\"How could he say that?\" I shouted, exasperated, to the wind. \"I'll show him who's in control once and for all!\"\n\nI conjured a small cloud just large enough to cover a single person. Then I breathed my anger and fury in to the puffy white cotton ball, turning it into a furious storm as it grew darker and darker. Soon I created a deadly tempest built for one unfortunate son-of-a-gun. I looses my weapon into the world, aiming straight for... Dave. I leaned back waiting for the cloud to smite Dave into the ground, but as it hovered over Dave's head, he seemed to smile unexpectedly. Almost like he knew this would happen...\n\nThe cloud poured rain over Dave's head, drenching him in storm water. I eagerly awaited the moment when a flash of blue-violet light burst from the cloud, racing towards that heathen's head. But when lightning arced from my cloud, it beelined straight to metal pole standing erect right beside Dave.\n\nI stared in disbelief. \"How...\".\n\n\"Do you see? I used advanced mathematics and physics to predict the weather patterns of today. I predicted that small, strange storm would appear over this spot at this time of day? Am I god for knowing this? No. Do you see my point, people? I am not a god for predicting that storm just like I am not a god for predicting...\"\n\nI couldn't listen due to my anger. I was as furious as the tempest I sent down to smite Dave. \"Oh, I'll give you something to predict, you little fart!\"\n\nI gathered all my strength, pooling it into a thin line that shined blue radiance. I tied the end into a lasso and threw that end into the Atlantic Ocean. My rope, searching for its prey, wove through the deep waters until it locked onto the apex predator of the sea - the Great White Shark. The rope wrapped around the body of this great beast until it was completely bound and shiny in blue light. Then I heaved. The force threw the shark at blinding speeds through the air - straight to Dave. I glanced back in the direction of Where Dave was, grinning to myself with satisfaction, but what I saw shook me to the core. Dave was standing inside a reinforced cage, looking smug, while the villagers glanced around expectantly. \n\nSuddenly the Shark soared through the air above the villagers and slamming into the metal cage that protected Dave. The villagers stared in awe of the man named Dave.\n\n\"You see now?\" Dave exclaimed, \"Science can explain all of this natural phenomena. Lightning, volcanoes, the sun, everything can be explained and calculated. Even a shark being carried by the winds in my direction.\"\n\n\"What the hell!?\" I screamed in disbelief.\n\nAt that moment something snapped inside me. Rage filled my bones and drove me mad. I bellowed in anger and let the hate consume me. Using all of my power I summoned something the world should have never seen. Fire and brimstone darted through the clouds, raining destruction upon that small village. A raging bull was fighting to be released within me. I through caution to the wind. I wanted to destroy him. I was going to erase everything Dave ever was or could have been.\n\n\"Screw you, Dave!\" I screamed through the sounds of destruction and pain. \"You made me destroy the only things I love!\"\n\nBut as I looked up from my rage-fueled stupor, I heard Dave shout in his whiny, screeching voice. \"Please remain where I told you to stand, and the storm will pass without doing any harm!\" \n\nThe fire inexplicably rained down around villagers, missing each of them completely. Whenever a fire started, someone with a bucket of water was ready to put it out immediately. I was stunned, silent. How...\n\n\"I will kill you!\" I shouted, \"I will sever your spine and flick your head off your shoulders!\" But when I held out my hand, nothing happened. I was consumed by dread. How could nothing happen? I tried again but Dave remained, alive and happy. Suddenly the world darkened around me. The world fuzzed as if my eyes were closing to sleep, reluctant to stay awake. Everything fell out beneath me and the world turned pitch black.\n\n\"Damn it, Dave! Damn you...\" I sobbed quietly, completely alone in the dark. I was a broken man.", "“How long have you lived here?” Mr. Rogers questioned the older gentlemen.\n\n\"Oh, long before you started working here, maybe 1960 or so,” replied the old man.\n\n\"Hmm. You may be our oldest tenant,” Mr. Rogers stopped his work on the oven and looked at the gentle face of man only known as ‘that sweet old man in 4D”. He got a smile returned to him. Mr. Rogers tried to think hard if had even been in this apartment before.\n\n\"You know, now that I think of it, have you ever called for work before?” Mr. Rogers inquired, now concerned. A tenant that never asked for help may seem great at first, but usually it means the apartment is in complete disarray.\n\n“I’m kind of handy; I usually do not require help,” the old main responded. His facial expression unchanged. Mr. Rogers felt calm, his mind relaxed. He realized suddenly that he did not even know the name of the man standing in front of him. He recalled being introduced when he first walked in the door. But now, it was a faded memory.\n\n“I see your problem, it’s the lighter, it’s rusted,” Mr. Rogers stated as he felt compelled to return to his work.\n\n“Oh, that explains a lot,” replied the old man.\n\n“In fact, when is the last time you used this? You said it was fine last week,” Mr. Rogers examined the stove top closely and he began to feel dread that the apartment was all in poor shape. \n\n“Oh yes, I usually just light it myself manually, but given my age I thought it may be safer to finally get it fixed,” the old man said.\n\nMr. Rogers stood back up fully and scanned the apartment. Had he been in this apartment before?\n\n“When did you say you moved in here?” Mr. Rogers questioned.\n\n“1960,” was the only words that came out of the weakened voice of the old man.\nMr. Rogers looked at him and saw confusion in his face.\n\n“Do you have anyone to look after you? You really shouldn’t be home alone,” Mr. Rogers said. He began to put his tools away. He would have to see if he had the parts in the basement to fix the stove.\n\n“Oh no my child, I’m fine. I may just require a little assistance from time to time, but I assure you I will be okay, it is kind of you to ask,” the old man said.\n\nMr. Rogers picked up his tools and once again scanned the apartment. He felt a presence, something, magical. Or maybe it was spiritual. Although there was nothing on the walls that even gave away what religion the old man practiced. He smiled at the old man who appeared to have his full confidence back.\n\n“Well, I have to visit Miss Grey next, but I can be back early tomorrow to fix this for you,” Mr. Rogers said as he moved slowly to the door. The carpet seemed new, the curtains drawn wide open letting in light that he did not think was possible on this side of the building.\n\n“Thank you so much, I appreciate your kindness,” said the old man. He opened the door, no lock or dead bolt present.\n\nMr. Rogers smiled at the old man and made his way down to his workshop in the basement. He sat at his desk pausing, trying to recall what made him so worried a few minutes ago. \n\nHe picked up the phone on his desk and slowly dialed the number to adult protective services.\n\n" ]	[ 1, 3, 4 ]	[ "1502734093", "1502743658", "1502740583" ]
	[WP] Use the last sentence of your favorite novel as the first sentence in a short story. It's not necessary to use the same characters/setting.	2	[ "\nOff-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", "Gravely she walked beside him up the white streets of Havnor, holding his hand, like a child coming home. But now there were no merchants at the empty market stalls, no children running around, no dogs and cats in the alleys, not even seagulls above the town’s tall towers. Only the salty wind was there to greet them. In a large plaza they sat at the edge of a silent fountain and ate the last of their bread. When they reached the large stone building at the top of the highest hill, she left his hand and continued alone. She pushed the heavy door and a thin slice of light spilled into the windowless hall. She paused, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness, searching for familiar features along the high walls. There it was - a black door, etched with intricate geometric patterns. She took the small lantern left on a table by the door, lit it, and stepped through.\n\nOutside, he waited alone patiently for a few hours, but when he couldn't sit still anymore he went inside the building. She left her backpack by the opened door. He went in, cursing in the darkness when he stumbled on some crates. But his eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light and he continued down the long downwards spiraling corridor, past closed doors and empty bookcases. He didn't dare break the silence by calling her, but soon he reached the source of the light. It was an opened door, and she was inside, mumbling. \n\n\"Are you ok?\" he whispered. She stopped and turned to him, exasperated. \"I don’t think I can do it\", she said. Then she sat down on a wooden bench by the wall. He sat down beside her. \"Can I help?\" he asked. She chuckled, and said \"It took ten years of studies to get in here as an apprentice. Ten years more to be accepted as a fellow. But the masters who did this... I can't even understand half the stuff involved with this spell\". He got up and went to the table in the center of the room. He pointed at a small wooden box. \"Is this it?\" he asked. She looked up. \"Yes. you can pick it up if you want to. It won't explode\". \n\nHe picked it up and examined it. The wood felt strange. It was hard and smooth, like metal, but not cold. He knocked on it. It sounded hollow. On all sides of its cubed shape were geometric patterns, like the ones on the door upstairs, but it was completely smooth. There was no apparent opening, no hinges. “Do all spells come in boxes?” he asked. She laughed. “No”, she said, “most spells don’t have a physical presence. But if you want something persistent that will go on even if you stop sustaining it, you have to anchor it to something. You can get creative and lock the spell onto it however you wish, though. I don’t even know if I need to craft a spell to break the box, open it without harming it, destroy it, kiss it, or do a rain dance around it. And even if I had a plan, I can’t seem to affect this thing at all, no matter what I do”. “That sounds frustrating”, he said. She let out another short laugh. “Yes”, she said. “It is”. \n\nHe came back late at night. “I couldn’t find any food”, he said, “or water”. She was hunched over the table, gazing intently at the box. After some time she looked up at him, eyes red, refocusing. “There was nothing in the pantries?” she asked. “No”, he said, “or in the cellars. Or in any of the other chambers. Or outside in the town”. She looked dizzy. “You’d better sit down”, he told her. “I can’t think when I’m sitting down”, she said. But she sat down next to him. He said, hesitantly, “There’s a well in a plaza not too far from here. I couldn’t tell if there’s any water in it. I’ll go out again in the morning”. “Good”, she said, “We can’t survive without water”. He licked his chapped lips. “Do you have to do it in this room?” he asked, “if you won’t take a break, maybe we could take it outside, then at least you’ll have some fresh air”. She sighed and said “I don’t dare take it away from where I’ve found it”. He put his arm around her. “You should get some sleep”, he whispered. “Yes”, she said.\n\n“There was no water”, she said when he entered the room again empty handed the next day. He shook his head, his mouth moving to say “No”, but no sound came out. She looked at him wearily. “Come on”, she said, “I’ll come outside with you”. He smiled faintly. They went together to the biggest plaza, overlooking the port. “The wind stopped”, he said. And then after a while, “thank you”. “What for?” she asked. “Every person in this world dreams of seeing this city at least once. I’m sorry I only got to see it like this, but it’s better than nothing. Besides, we have a chance to save the world. That’s more than most people can hope for”. She leaned her head on his chest. “I’m sorry”, she said, and sobbed quietly.\n\n“Will you tell me if you’re suffering too much?” she told him, as he was hugging his knees on the small bench by the wall. “I can help”. He closed his eyes and nodded. She mumbled some words and his shoulders eased in relief. “I wish you could cure the cause, not just the symptoms”, he said. “I do, too”, she said. “What good am I anyway”, she said. “I dragged you all the way here and I don’t even have a clue how to approach this thing”. “Well”, he said, “you’re the best chance we’ve got”. She scoffed. “It’s been two days”, she said, “and I’ve made no progress at all”. “I suppose sometimes heroic quests can fail”, he said.\n\n“Are you awake?” she asked, but he didn’t answer. His breath was shallow, barely audible in the silence. She leaned close to his ear and mumbled something. Then she picked up the wooden box. She mumbled a few words. Nothing happened, as nothing had in any of her attempts. She placed the box on the wooden bench, between herself and him. Then she leaned her head on his shoulders and closed her eyes.\n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1502738328", "1502753120" ]
	[WP] You jokingly ask the hotel staff for an extra googolplex of pillows, that was a mistake.	24	[ "\nOff-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 opened the door to find a tsunami of cotton rushing towards me.\n\n\"What the...?\" I yell as I am engulfed in the tide of pillows. I am barely able to reach the surface as the river flows out of the hotel and into the street.\n\nNow, one might ask, \"How did our dashingly handsome protagonist get himself into such an odd predicament?\" Well, my dear reader, it was an accident. Sort of. You see, apparently certain hotel chains keep a lot more extra pillows than they should. I mean I'm not sure if it was exactly googolplex, but at this point I really didn't care.\n\nThe rapidly expanding stuffing quickly engulfed the city. I began to hear the muffled screams of civilians being smothered. In that moment I realized New York City would need a hero. But someone else would have to do it because I was still running on 4 hours of sleep." ]	[ 1, 11 ]	[ "1502767455", "1502769423" ]
	[WP] "Dang it Steve! You had one job! How did you even cause an apocalypse?!?!"	21	[ "\nOff-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", "\"Dang it Steve! You had one job! How did you even cause an apocalypse?!\" Robert the store manager didn't yell. That would imply that his voice didn't crack when he screamed the words in my direction.\n\nPeople were rushing out of the store screaming along with my manager who quickly made his way out of the building as well. Looking out the windows, I could see the sky was dark with black clouds that had formed together to create an odd inky blackness that shut out the sun. What looked like tar began to drip from the sky as purple and bright red lightning streaked across where there used to be clouds. Almost as if the sky was a thick oil, there was a rainbow of colors shimmering across it's obsidian surface with each flash of light.\n\nLight bulbs began to bursts around the store, showering everyone left in shards of glass. I felt the pieces hit my shoulders and head as I simply stood there and watched as the world began to come to an end. I was perfectly still. My eyes were fixed and my pants were warm with the liquid that drained from me in fright.\n\nMassive hands began to descend from the sky with talons of pure white which contrasted the black inkiness of the sky. I couldn't imagine what these hands belonged to and at this moment, my mind didn't work well enough to dream of considering it. I just stood there.\n\nThe ground began to shake and tremble, massive fissures began to rip open and I could see cars, people and buildings being swallowed up by them. Yells and screams of terror and agony were all that my ears would allow me to hear. \n\nFinally I was able to break my trance and look down at my right hand. In it, there was a soft rectangular piece of fabric with the words \"Do Not Remove Under Penalty of Law\" printed on it.\n\nMy eyes looked back up to the outside scene of an apocalyptic hellscape. For the last few moments of my life, I stood there in the mattress store. It was my first day. I should have listened to the tag." ]	[ 1, 8 ]	[ "1502771716", "1502774482" ]
	[WP] In the middle of the Nevada desert, a massive mirror appears and floats in midair. Any and all who look upon it are shown their true self as they appear to everyone else.	6	[ "\nOff-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", "Almost to the front of the line, Amanda couldn't help but rearrange her hair, running her fingers through it in nervousness, feeling as though every inch of her body stuck out in awkward unpleasant ways. She could feel sweat forming across her skin, her heart racing, her movements jittery and unfocused. She gulped, checking her phone again.\n\n\"Don't worry honey, just remember how much we love you!\" A text from her mother read. She placed the phone back in her pocket.\n\nWas she dressed appropriately? There were cameras flashing everywhere, getting people's reactions, some trying in vain to see what the reflection shone back at each individual that stood in front of it, but what was shown was not only what the world already saw, it was for the subject's eyes only.\n\nShe was second in line, behind a young man with curly hair.\n\nThe interview had gone well. She had had good rapport with the journalist, and had shared what she was comfortable sharing, enough that he had a good idea of who she was without knowing anything that was too private or invasive. She didn't think she was interesting enough to be chosen for one of the spotlight pieces, but it was at least a good experience so far, one she hoped wouldn't be shattered by her true reflection staring back at her.\n\n\"What?\" The young man in front of her said, \"No... no... no, no, no, no-\" He reached towards his back, feeling around at his shoulder blades in an increasing panic, \"No, but why, I didn't, I never meant- I'm not-\" He stared at the mirror in disbelief, and his whole demeanor seemed to change, quickly, but more naturally than was comfortable, jaw tightening, fists clenching, brow furrowing, eyes narrowing. He only got several running steps closer to the mirror before security took him down, and as he was dragged away he seemed hardly sensible, barely human in a fit of anger that made her want to run.\n\nThere had been similar reactions to the mirror.\n\nSome had reacted with rage, others with joy, some with sadness, and some with exuberance. Some people meekly accepted what the mirror had to show them, while others became defensive and difficult, rejecting what they had seen or trying to escape from it.\n\nOne of the security people beckoned Amanda forward. With a deep breath she walked forward, her eyes set on the ground in front of her, the clicks of cameras filling the air. She reached her mark, said a silent prayer in her heart, and then turned around to face herself in the mirror.\n\nHer first reaction was confusion. This was not her. This could not have been her. What she saw was never how she had seen herself, but it was certainly no one other than her.\n\nShe put her hands up to her face as tears began to leak out of the corners of her eyes. Her reflection cried with her, but even in it's tears it reflected a beauty the likes of which she had never imagined she could be. It was not the beauty of a model, an actress, someone that frequented red carpets or fancy dinner parties. She cried because everything she had ever been insecure about was now reflected back as welcoming, attractive even, not in the way she had always wished she could be, but in a way that was deeper than any of the cosmetics the world had to offer.\n\nShe had spent so long wanting to look like women on TV, women at school, or work, or even friends she had grown up with, but the woman standing in front of her was different than that. It was so bizarre to her that she started to laugh, and in her reflection her worry, her anxiety, the voice in her head that told her that she wasn't good enough, all of it seemed to melt out of her. She was most beautiful when she laughed, she decided, and not in an artificial or forced way, but when she was truly enjoying herself, forgetting the weight she placed on herself every day.\n\nThis was how people saw her?\n\nThe tears began to flow more freely, but they were tears of joy, and these were evident to both those watching, and herself as she watched her reflection accept what many had tried to convince her of for so many years. Unable to stand the sight of it in the best way possible, she walked back past the mirror to a maelstrom of cameras and lights, but there was an ease to her step that hadn't existed before, and a sense of freedom as her shackles dissolved into dust.\n\nFeeling more worthwhile than she ever had in her life, she made her way back to her car. She was going to take that drawing class. She was going to talk to that guy. She was going to wear that dress. She was done making excuses or comparisons.\n\nWhen she walked into the house her mother was at the table, hands intertwined, looking up immediately and scanning the face of her daughter for any clues as to how it had gone.\n\nAmanda ran up to her and gave her an immediate hug, speaking the first words that fell out of her mind and into her voice.\n\n\"Thank you.\"", "It was my Scrying day. Oddly enough I had waited until the 28th day after my 18th birthday, which is the last day I am eligible. Had the time limit been 45 days I would have shown up on the 45th day. \n\nI always knew I was going to be no one special and I knew that the mirror would confirm this. \n\nI stood in the Nevada desert staring toward the long gauntlet of people that lead to the mirror. Revelers and the Keepers lined the path toward the dais, built so that one could gaze upon themselves in the giant mirror.\n\n“God, it’s hot.” I sighed. Fanning myself with my hands.\n\nI knew and dreaded that by the time this was over my under boob sweat would show through my tank top if It wasn’t already.\n\nGod, why did we have still have to do this? It’s never correct.\n\nThe mirror had just popped into existence one day. It was Massive. The reflective side faced east. It was said you could see it from Utah in the morning at certain elevations. \n\nI finally reached the check in and approached and older stern woman.\n\n“Hi,” I said. \n\n“Name?”\n\n“Chelse Whitaker.”\n\nThe woman looked through the list. Keyboard clacking as she heavily pressed the down arrow, searching. She made that “ch ch ch” noise people do when they are thinking.\n\n“tssk, cutting it a little close aren't you miss Whitaker?” she held out an envelope.\n\n“Oh, am I?” I rolled my eyes as I walked away with the envelope in hand. \n\nThe sun shone brightly overhead as I followed the path toward the dais. Finally, after what seemed like crossing the entire desert I reached the end.\n\nI held up a hand shading my eyes and muttered, “Such a sacred relic, but we couldn’t afford shade.” \n\n“It’s the mirror.” Said a boy to my right.\n\nI glanced to find he was talking to me. “What?”\n\n“The mirror quickly deteriorates any shade put up, it’s so bright it kills any planted trees. It’s the reflection and all.”\n\n“Oh, I guess I really never thought about it.”\n\n“It’s your Scrying day?”\n\n“I guess.” I answered quickly, looking around for way out of this conversation but found none.\n\nHe continued to look at me. I just stood there not looking at him, not looking at anything really. \n\nAwkward silences were always my favorite. A fly buzzed around and I tried to concentrate on that.\n\n“It shouldn’t be too much longer,” the boy said. “My name is Will.”\n\nI stared at his hand as he held it out. The fly continued to buzz around.\n\nHe pulled his hand back and stuck it in his pocket. “Sorry,” he muttered and turned away.\n\nWe stood for moments more. Revelers began lining the side of the walkway. A bell sounded from somewhere back toward the beginning of the path. I looked around watching trying to not be too curious as the people uncovered much smaller but identical mirrors to the large one in from of me. They sat in the dirt propped the mirror on their lap and began to clean them. The wiped in almost uniform fashion first left to right then right to left. \n\nMy curiosity peaked. I nudge Will with an elbow, “Hey. What are they doing?”\n\n“I’m sorry, now you want to talk? I don’t even know your name.”\n\nI let out a huff, “I am Chelse.”\n\n“Nice to meet you Chelse,” He said holding out his hand.\n\nI gave him my best Really stare and grabbed it. His hand felt much like I imagined mine did. Sweaty.\n\n“They are cleaning the mirror.”\n\nThe look on my face must have told him he didn’t answer my question.\n\n“Well the Mirror doesn’t need to be cleaned, these people clean smaller mirrors as a sign of worship.”\nI smiled, surely he was joking. He just looked back incredulous.\n\n“I guess I should have paid more attention in school,” I said.\n\nThe bell rang again and the tiny mirrors were covered as the onlookers stood up. They were all looking toward the dais so I turned my attention to it. \n\nA small frail woman got up to stand on the podium. \n\nShe beckoned toward Will.\n\n“Please, come,” She said crooking her small finger again.\n\nI watched as Will walked up the stairs, wishing for him to trip. He didn’t. He stopped in front of the mirror.\n\n“What do you see?” the woman asked.\n\n“I see,” He faltered. “I see myself with a large head, a sign on my back that says, Know-It-All. Behind me, there is a black board my outline is shown on it.” I could see his ears turn a bright red. “A-an arrow points toward my silhouette with the word Virgin written above it.”\n\nI stifled a laugh. The revelers gave me side glances at the noise.\n\n“Is that all dear?” asked the old woman.\n\n“No, I also see complex math equations on the board. They seem to be in reference to Time and Distance. The velocity these would produce is amazing. It surpasses any known method of travel now.”\n\nSomehow, I knew that he spoke the truth.\n\nThe old woman handed him a note pad. “Please write them down. Create two copies. You have told the truth. Thank you, Will,” she said bowing to him.\n\nI watched as Will wrote down the equations. It took what seemed like thirty minutes. He clutched the notes close to his chest as he walked down the steps.\n\nI glanced back up at the old woman. She crooked her finger at me.\n\n“Come,” she said.\n\nI walked hesitantly up the steps. \n\nWas I ready for this? To figure out what I knew all along. I am a nobody.\n\nThe Nevada sun sunk behind the mirror as I reached the top of the dais.\n\n“Please,” The old woman gestured toward the mirror, “what do you see?”\n\nI looked the old woman in the face. It was leathery and dry. Her skin looked like it would slough off if touched. She gestured toward the mirror.\n\nI took a deep breath and gazed at my reflection. Sweat ringed the underside of my boobs. I felt my face flush. I tried to glance away but couldn’t. The mirror glistened back at me and I stood in it alone. \n\nJust me.\n\n“What do you see?”\n\n“Nothing. Just me.”\n\n“Are you sure dear?” asked the woman.\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“Thank you,” She said.\n\n“Wait that’s it?” I asked. \n\nShe just nodded.\n\nI stared at me in the mirror frowning at myself. I looked at every inch of me. How can this be?\n\nEveryone got some fantasy and some speckling of truth from the mirror. \n\nBut for me? I Just had me.\n\nThe me in the mirror was smiling. Relief washed over me as I let out a true laugh.\n\nI had found me, “I am nobody.” \n\n" ]	[ 1, 3, 3 ]	[ "1502800503", "1502805513", "1502816290" ]
	[WP] You born with the ability to manipulate matter and time the way you desire. You can make anything happen. Soon, you discover that as your brain learns any mathematical principle or any physics law your powers disapear accordingly to the kind of knowledge you have gained.	16	[ "\nOff-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", "Lightning crashes down upon my house. I’m inside of it. I am it, and if this book is of any use, I’ll never have to be it again. \n\nMy life has always been hard because of these powers. When I was six, I ripped my sister apart with my bare hands. There was a terrible argument over something petty. We were young and emotions hit a fever point. I think I stole one of her dolls, I can’t be certain anymore. What I can be certain of, though, after she slapped me; I slapped her back, my hand tore through her face like it was made of butter. She died instantly. After she dropped to the floor I tried to pick her up, to hold her and make everything ok. But, these damned hands passed through her body and in the end my parents found me sobbing, sitting in the chunks of her flesh. I looked up how this could have happened and discovered that once I figured out what what the difference between a solid and a liquid or gas was, I could no longer just swipe my hands through things. \n\nWhen I was 13, I figured out how to bring her back. My parents had long since been killed at my hand and I was living alone in our old house. I never meant to kill them. They were just so…frail. Life was difficult after my sister died. My mother resorted to drinking. I hated her when she was drunk. I had hatched a plan. I had already vowed never to touch another person. Even if the power was no longer mine. But, I found out, I didn’t have to touch things to change them. I thought hard, and changed the alcohol into something else. I should have decided what I would change it into before I did it, though. The doctor said that she died from cyanide poisoning. I could not begin to describe how much that hurt me. I was just trying to help. I hated the doctor and fused the flesh of his lips together so that he could never give anyone this bad of news ever again. A bit of chemistry homework took away my ability to change anyones food or drink ever again. \n\nMy father died shortly after. He was convinced I was some sort of god in human form. He waited on me, hand and foot. Whatever I wanted, he would fetch. I still loved my Dad, so I would try to make these tasks easier for him. He died simply because he said it was a little chilly while I was distracted. I was playing a game he had purchased for me. I heard him say it was chilly and moments later, he came running through the house, covered in flame. I had only though it would be nice for him to be warmer. By the time he got my wits about me, he had succumbed to the fire. Reading up on thermodynamics was a tough one, and not always being at the perfect temperature was annoying, but no one would suffer the same fate as my father. \n\nAnyway, the day I brought my sister back. I was toying around with a frog. I could make his heart stop, and then, moments later, bring it to beat again. I did this over and over again, until I had practiced enough that a frog three weeks dead, long past the point where it would be decaying, could suddenly jump to life, all of its color and vigor restored. After the frog experiment was a success, I walked into my sisters bedroom. Her bones appeared there before my eyes. Then, suddenly, muscle fiber and sinew and organs started to sprout from the bones. The bones themselves took became bright white again in an instant before skin wrapped itself around them. I was embarrassed for a moment before clothes stitched themselves together over her body. \n\nThere she was. A perfect recreation of my sister. But, merely a recreation. Unlike the frog, she did not jump to life. She sat there, motionless, staring at nothing. What was the problem!? Everything in her was exactly right. I was very careful to learn what the inside of the body looked like without learning an ounce of physics. I could move whatever I want, and dammit, I had it right. Hours of sitting on the floor, taking my sister apart bit by bit and reassembling her when by. She was perfect, the body and brain worked exactly correctly. Then it hit me, after my father had died, I was alone. I delved into religion. I devoured every holy book I could find. I wanted to find that there was a deeper meaning to everything. I still don’t know if there is. Maybe I’m it. But, what I do know a lot about, is the soul. I had given away the one thing I had always wanted. My sister. I knew that I could never have her. Knowledge was infallible. Once it was there, it never left. I could never gain, or regain, the power to bring my sister’s soul back from wherever it was. \n\nI shattered the meat doll that was supposed to be my sister. I hated it, and I hate these powers. It was at this point, I decided. I would become the worlds greatest scholar. I will know everything. If I can’t have my family back, I’ll avenge them by destroying the ignorance that took them from me. ", "\"You don't know newtons laws of motion? Well the second law-\" he stopped talking as I touched his forehead lightly and it exploded with the force of a wrecking ball focused in an area the size of a thimble. I'm not sure what he was telling me but I'd rather not know. I like these powers of mine. After that last scientist told me about temperature I got cold. Newtons laws of motion? Sounds like it might stop me from teleporting. Wouldn't that be a pain. " ]	[ 1, 4, 12 ]	[ "1502830149", "1502862453", "1502838242" ]
	[WP] You're an NPC who is aware that they are a part of a D&D campaign. The campaign has been going badly. Both the players and the DM are thinking about quitting. You want to live, and can't let this happen.	153	[ "\nOff-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", "\"Raaaghghgh!!\" Screamed Thod, the gnome barbarian as he attempted to strike the lich not 1 grid away from him, I watched as the axe cleaved through the undead lord dealing some damage \"decent roll, well done\" I thought to myself as I awaited my turn. Oh no, I'm not a player, just a poor 'npc' who rolled a high perception score under some buff effect, it was then that I realised what I was and how my world worked. You see, I am a guard of a town (the name matters little) and as I said, I gained sentience, well now I follow the 'party' around in a vain hope to live a bit longer.\nswoosh oh, that spell caught the wizard who is looking rather worse off, do excuse me for a moment\nsounds of casting\n\nAhh much better, sorry about that but I couldn't let one of the die like that. You see it's like this, if they die then I too will die, well it's worse than that as I will actually just cease to exist. I realised that these people are the embodiment of God's, they created my world and only through their continuing interest does my world still exist. So it was I decided to tag along and help them, I mean someone has to look after them right? They seemed so inept when they first stumbled into my town, it was like watching a baby that could wield a greataxe (terrifying I know).\n\nmore explosions sigh... there goes the last tribe member of the \"wunker wunker\" tribe (urgh, those poor sods, the gods thought it would be funny to name it that.\n\nAnyway where was I? Oh yes, when they arrived our town was under siege by zombies (yes I know, basically the first encounter for them) and whilst their skill in combat was pretty good it seemed like they knew nothing of the world around them, bizzare. Ofc it was only after my \"awakening\" I saw them as they truly are, how should they know about history point X when it never actually happened, it's just 'backstory'. Others say this world is ancient, millenia old, but really it never existed before they first stumbled into town. Oh hold on a moment would you\n\nclashes and clangs of weaponry followed by some footsteps\n\nRight, action and move done, now to wait again whilst the others are debating the 'challenge rating' of this thing and discussing strategy. Ok, back to me then.\nYes, it was that moment I decided to join them, someone had to make sure they don't die, I want to exist and so I will protect them for as long as I am able. At least they seem to like me enough to help me in return with healing and new weapons. Well, that's all for now. Better go roll some dice, tally ho", "I've been tending the inn and pub for the past 30 sessions, ever since my uncle was killed in a bar fight started by that damned paladin going after yet another \"heretic.\" Things in Bobloblawtowne (I seriously need to find out who named our quaint hamlet) are fairly predictable, but our very unoriginal lord has been thinking of folding up our little realm of existence because Conan Bonebreaker can't just act like a normal person and starts killing everything in sight, always screaming about his need for more experience, whatever he means by that, and he mopes around after that.\n\nThey keep coming here expecting some meaningful quest or guidance, and they walk away disappointed, as the lord has always taken an interest in them, but hasn't really helped them like he did in setting my room prices, which thankfully have gone up as they keep coming back with massive amounts of gold.\n\nThe lord has need for a quest, and boy I am giving him one. I have been talking up legends of an ancient map handed down through my family for generations to the rest of the village, but in truth I drew up some scribbles around a map of the known world and a few elvish words to make it look fancy. I crumpled up the scroll, poured mead on it and straightened it out after it dried. This now ancient-looking map will lead them all around the world on a trail of breadcrumbs. It should take those chumps at least another 100 sessions to go everywhere and get everything. At the end of it all, I hired a jester to mock them for going on such a long journey for nothing. And that wizard just north of town should be able to kill that Conan, maybe give my patrons a break whenever they come back into town. Maybe the lord will find a new adventurer to join his chosen few, one who is not a total tool.\n\nThen again, my lord is a bit of a tool and I doubt he will, but I, and the world, will live for a while longer." ]	[ 1, 4, 29 ]	[ "1502855058", "1502877982", "1502857630" ]
	[WP] You're having a fun night out with someone you met at a bar, but at the most awkward moment that it could possibly happen you find out he/she is a werewolf	6	[ "\nOff-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 met Lucy at the bar the other night, where after we had had a few drinks together, she gave me her number and address and asked me to \"come over sometime soon.\" I gave her mine, and we parted ways. I had the perfect date in mind: a walk under the full moon through her neighborhood, and it would be tonight.\n\nI called her to let her know I was coming over and told her of my plans for the night. She gave me the okay, though she seemed a bit... nervous. I would soon find out why.\n\nWhen I arrived at her house, I found out she didn't exactly live in a neighborhood, unless you counted a community of forest creatures as one, with a log cabin set amidst the trees with a beat-up pickup truck sitting in the dirt driveway. Pulling up next to it, I saw that the windows seemed to be dark; hopefully, she wasn't asleep. Knocking on the door, she opened it, letting out a flood of light that revealed the blackout curtains drawn across each window. She was dressed scrappily, with a raggedy t-shirt and pre-stressed jeans. \"What are you staring at me for?\" she asked. \"Let's go before I change.\" Only a few minutes later, I would find out what she meant by that: As soon as we started out on a footpath, she started shaking uncontrollably, hyperventilating. I put my arms around her, saying it was okay. \"No, Garrett, it is not okay. You see, I'm a-a-\" And then she let out a howl.\n\nStunned, I watched transfixed as her clothes tore while fur grew all over her swelling body, and she changed into a lycanthropic form: a wolf's head over a muscular human-ish body, with a tail, digitigrade feet, and clawed hands and paws... and the complete inability to speak articulately. Looking at me with her now-yellow eyes, she howled as she bit me on my leg as I tried backing away, and I howled; at first in pain, but then as a werewolf myself.\n\n___\n\n/r/SupersuMC_Stories" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1502897556", "1502931670" ]
	[WP] You're an assassin with a 100% success rate, but never get within a mile radius of your victims.	13	[ "\nOff-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've been killing people for a while now. It's a fun job. At least it is when you don't have to see your victim die. I should explain. I'm an artist. I paint for a living. The funny thing is my paintings tend to kill their subjects. I first noticed when I was practicing as a kid. I would paint flowers. Within hours of their being painted, they would wither away to nothing. My mother thought she was a horrible gardener, but she tried and tried to make our flowers stay alive for the longest time. But I had a feeling I knew better. \n\nWhen I was 20, I decided to test it. I had long since turned my power into a superstition. I painted abstract art instead. Fake houses or aliens or whathaveyou. But I kept thinking back to my childhood flowers. I had to test it somehow. So I gave in. I went to the middle of the forest and painted a lone tree. I found a tall birch with a sturdy lively trunk and painted away. I was very careful to just get that tree and not the surrounding trees in the painting. I wasn't sure how much of my power would translate.\n\nWhen I was done, I compared the two. It seemed that I had painted the tree a little too lively at first. Then I realized that my painting was true to form. My subject had changed. The tree was losing its leaves before my quivering tearfilled eyes. I wasn't crazy after all.\n\nIn college, my girlfriend of two years wanted me to paint her. I steadfastly refused. When she asked why not, I told her frankly. My paintings kill their subjects. She laughed it off, thinking I was joking and never brought it up again.\n\nAnother year had passed. I was with her still. On our three year anniversary, she got hit by a car on her way home. It was a hit and run. She had to be put on a ventilator. She had been paralyzed from the shoulders down. Luckily she could just barely write. \n\nShe described her story. She was walking home looking forward to a day with me. We had both asked for the day off of work and didn't have class until the end of the weekend, so it was going to be our day. She parked across the street since someone -- my mother -- had parked in her usual spot. Something she did all the time. As she crossed, a car came around the corner.\n\nAfter hitting her, the kids tumbled out of the car. There were two of them. She could only see the driver though. The passenger didn't walk around the car into her field of view. But she heard him. He pleaded with the driver to call an ambulance. But the driver refused. She got a good look at him. She was able to describe him to a police sketch artist. I got a good look at him.\n\nYou can imagine where this lead.\n\nMy girlfriend died the next day of complications. They found the kid dead in his parents house. Died of an aneurism. That was my first killing.\n\nI realized this would be an easy way to pay for art school. By commissioning paintings of the people who others want dead. As it happens, I can paint a picture of someone in any capacity and they'll turn up dead. Aneurism. I've been selling my commissions for three years now. And I doubt I'll ever be caught." ]	[ 1, 13 ]	[ "1502921345", "1502929853" ]
	[WP] When mortals in our universe die, they become the gods of other universes. The type of god they become depends on their skill set when they were alive. You are a worldbuilder.	6	[ "\nOff-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", "Euke'narazétih, or Alberto, had crafted his first piece of land many centuries ago. A barren piece of land crafted out of a single piece of flat clay. The people of these lands named it Ond'enai, the long fields. He had come far since then, he now could craft entire oceans as if it was nothing.\n\nAs he ran his hand through the soft clay, he longed for times past. He could barely remember his name. Not the one that the people bestowed upon him, but his real name. \n\nAlberto, he remembered. He had been named in honor of his grandfather as tradition mandated. Just like people in this realm name their sons. he thought.\n\nHe saw something wrong in the clay. A corner that was not supposed to be there. Euke'narazétih reached for his pallet and carefully removed the excess clay, making sure to smooth out the area he just prodded. It still felt incomplete. Unfinished.\n\nHe remembered these sensations from his human days. Even though Alberto could no longer remember the faces of his family, or the scents of his home, he still could recall sensations, feelings. A shiver shot through his spine as a fuzzy memory flashed in his mind.\n\nBut he had learned to let those images go. As much as he tried to make out what he saw in his own mind, he never managed to create more than a single, distorted scene. Some invoked warmth, closeness. Others called for a biting cold through his body, and some others would make Alberto, the worldbuilder, cry in despair.\n\nWith time and practice, he had learned to take his frustation out on the clay. He'd build himself a new home in this new world.\n\nEuke'narazétih took the small piece of clay he had separated before. He looked at it closely for what could have been hours. Finally, he used his tools to place it back where it was. Some things are better left untouched, he thought.\n\nWith a snap of his fingers, the mountain-chain-shaped clay vanished from his working table. Somewhere far, the earth shaked violently as new peaks rose from the ground, slowly forming mountains.\n\nThe smile on the worldbuilder's face slowly faded away. The pride he felt over such an intrincate set of mountains dwimbled as his mind wandered to that dark place, where memories of his past laid buried.\n\n>Such was the price to pay for the worldbuilders\n\n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1502927297", "1502934490" ]
	[WP] It's a post apocalypse, but the people in this suburb still have block parties, hang out, borrow sugar from one another, etc.	4	[ "\nOff-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 walls they built were sound. They knew what was coming. Instead of retreating into their own homes, the good people decided to be better together. The underground pantry system works well, people take what they are allotted weekly. There are groups that hunt in the surrounding areas for the animals that made it. At either end there are vegetable gardens and greenhouses that are tended to by the community. Each family takes turns being responsible for the livestock that is kept in a small barns around the estate. Children are allowed to come see the new litters of baby pigs, lamb, and calves being born so they can learn how to birth them when they are older. A creek runs behind one row of houses, it is a job to keep it filtered and fresh. ", "Trish left their hovel underneath several layers of sand and soil to the Patterson's a block away. Her skin-tight U.V.S. kept her protected from the immense heat radiating from the sky, and from the disease infested dusty red sand she walked through. The filter on her back inhaled the humidity filled air and ejected crisp, cool air into her helmet. In her hand she held a U.V. protected, triple-layered box, in which was a measuring cup. She needed some flour for the pancakes she planned to make her husband for breakfast.\n\nShe knocked on the Patterson's hovel and waited a few moments. A slab was thrown back in the black door, revealing two blue eyes.\n\n\"Heya Bob, can I borrow some flour? I know amenities are tight this time of the year and all, but we're really hankering for some homemade pancakes.\"\n\n\"Yeah, sure, no problem.\" He said, opening another hole in the door. \"Just put it in. Anything else you need? Milk? Eggs? Sugar?\"\n\n\"Nope, nothing else. Thank you for the offer though.\" She said as she placed the box into the hole, then the hole closed.\n\n\"You going to the block party tomorrow?\" Bob shouted from inside, his voice muffled by the sand and soil.\n\n\"Yeah!\" Trish replied, raising her voice enough to be heard through the abrupt harsh winds, sending waves of red sand move around and over her. \"I'm making lasagna! What about Steffany? What she making?\"\n\n\"Oh, you know, the usual — fruit salad. Blegh!\" Bob said as he opened the hole again, the box inside as if it was never moved. The slab was thrown back again. \"Between you and me Trish, I'm getting sick and tired of fruit salad. I know fruit's hard to come by and I know it's considered a speciality now, but Jesus do I not want to spend another meal shoveling that goop into my mouth.\"\n\nTrish removed the box and closed the hole. \"Have you brought it up to Steff?\"\n\n\"God no, can you imagine what she'd do?\"\n\n\"Honestly's the best policy, Bob.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I know but. . . sleeping outside isn't something I particularly like to do.\" He said, then they both laughed.\n\n\"Well, okay Bob, I gotta' go. Michael is probably in a tiffy without his breakfast by now. I'll see you tomorrow.\" Trish said while she turned, waved and walked back to her hovel.\n\n\"Bye!\" Bob said from behind the door, then closed the slab." ]	[ 1, 1, 2 ]	[ "1502952785", "1502957773", "1502972118" ]
	[WP]Instead of trying to kill Harry as a baby, Voldemort just killed his parents and abducted him. Tell me the story of Harry raised by Voldemort.	354	[ "\nOff-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 lost, bow before me and you will be spared\" Lord Voldemort exclaimed triumphantly in front of Hogwarts' courtyard. \n\nMost of the defenders stood, defiantly, still with hopes of victory. Dumbledore has died assassinated by the basilisk in the chamber of secrets, the order of the Phoenix were hunted down one by one. Hogwarts the last bastion with defenses that lasted for centuries was bought down in an afternoon by a couple of 16 year old and a old closet. Yet the defenders still stood, with false hope in their eyes. Voldemort is going to crush it completely. He glided amongst his prisoners stopping upon Sirius Black.\n\n\"Ah Sirius my old enemy, how many of my death eaters have you taken down?\" Voldemort said in a sneer\n\n\"12, I believe, and you better kill me now, because I will escape Azkaban and kill 12 more\" Sirius breathed in rage\n\n\"Gryffindor to the end, you truly honored the name of your house\" Voldemort said sarcastically, \"but come let me show you the true reward of bravery\"\n\nVoldemort beckoned to his group of death eaters and a single cloaked figure came to his side.\n\n\"Allow me to present, my favorite son, Harry... Voldemort\" Voldemort said as he raised his hand to remove the death eater's mask.\n\nSirius's eye widened, \"no!, it can't be, James, Lily! you... You took their son!\"\n\n\"Yes Sirius\" Voldemort whispered in his ears, \"I took your future and bent it to my own, ironic is it not, to have your best friend's only child be the instrument of your destruction.\n\n\"you mean, he opened the vanishing closet?\" Sirius exclaimed, \"He opened the Chamber of Secrets?\"\n\n\"Yes\" exclaimed Voldemort, \"an now he will be your death\"... \"do it\"\n\n\"Crucio\" Harry exclaimed, as Voldemort cracked a smile, yes he always did like to play with his food before eating it. \n\nSirius withered and screamed in agony rolling on the floor, it was a whole 10 minute before Harry grew bored and simply said \"avada Kedavra\"\n\nAs the spell hit, Sirius looked up at him, not in rage or hatred but pity, \"Harry,\" he exclaimed, \"you have your mother's eyes\" and he fell to the floor. \n\nMost of the prisoners either bowed or died, Bellatrix was extremely eager to find the son of the Longbottoms. Harry did not take part in the slaughter, instead he retreated to the Slytherin dungeon with the image of Sirius's last word burned into his mind. \n\nHis mother... This was the first the anyone said anything about his mother. For 11 years of his life he was raised by his father, not once did he bring up his mother. Afterwards in Hogwarts he was focused on undermining its defenses and the assassination of the headmaster, that point was never bought up. Only in Professor Snape's office, did Snape let his mother's name slip, Lily Potter. Yes Snape knew about his mother, he will tell me the truth or he will die. ", "He stared at the crying child in the crib. He could never stand the wails of little ones, even back at that filthy muggle orphanage.\n\nHe stared at the child, the one who could be his undoing. The one who he intended to kill; the parents, well, they were just bonuses, too foolish to step aside, too foolish to bend to the will of the greatest wizard in all of history. As he stared, wand raised and ready to smite the child down, a strange feeling swelled up inside him. Surely, it was not pity. Pity was for the weak. No, it was intrigue. He had pushed magic beyond it's normal abilities, he had created multiple horcruxes, he was skills beyond all others. Maybe, just maybe, this boy could be yet another experiment, rather than another body to add to the countless others...\n\nJust under 10 years had passed since that chilly October night, and all seemed well. The muggle idea of nature versus nurture was not a stupid idea after all; they were bound to get something right once in a while. Harry (Lord Voldemort decided to keep the boy's name, as the child was accustomed to it) was none the wiser to his beginnings with mudblood and blood traitor parents. His magic appeared far before the age of 7, and with Lord Voldemort as a father, he was encouraged to practice, to experiment. His aunt Bellatrix had been assisting him in his education since he could speak. With no Statute of Secrecy, with Wizards in control, there was no fear of reprisal, though plenty of Muggles to practice his skills on.\n\nLord Voldemort sat in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, Minister of Magic and guest of honor, next to the aging Severus Snape, Hogwarts Headmaster, and thought of the great skills his son possessed, his learned ability to speak Parseltongue, and how nurture, if you can call it that, ensured that the boy would follow in his footsteps rather than be his demise. As they sat, waiting for the sorting to begin (the four houses kept as a way to see who may be troublesome), Lord Voldemort knew all was well.\n\nAs young Harry stepped up to the stool, a queer sense of pride filled the Dark Lord. Harry put on a ragged, torn hat.\n\"Gryffindor!\" exclaimed the Sorting Hat.\n\nLord Voldemort sat, astounded, fear and rage building, as Harry, shoulders slumped and looking defeated, sat at the Gryffindor table next to a spindly, freckled redhead, also a first year. Harry cast a glance to the Slytherin table, where he felt he belonged, and gave his lifelong friend Draco an apologetic smile.\n\nMaybe this was par for the course, thought Lord Voldemort. Upbringing can't change everything, as he himself knew. The damage was not done yet. Still, an unsettling feeling swept over the Dark Lord.\n\nAll, perhaps, was not well.", "Harry Riddle had always felt a bit like a bird in a cage. He was well cared for, certainly - always provided the finest clothes and instruments, never hungry, never ill - but he could not help but feel cut off in some strange way. It was as if some invisible barrier existed. It kept Harry safe, but it also meant he was never truly free. And that only got worse as he got older.\n\nIt didn't help that his father became only more distant as Harry grew older. As a small child, Harry could remember his father - his great, powerful lord of all wizards father - engaging with him. Not playing - the Lord Voldemort never played - but spending easy time in the boy's company, listening patiently to Harry childish babble, tolerating his clumsy destruction. He had never been an especially warm father, but he had been there, and for young Harry, that had been plenty.\n\nBut then Harry got older and Voldemort's attitude toward the boy seemed to shift. He became increasingly wary, easily irritated, colder, farther and farther away. He seemed for all the world to deeply distrust the young boy, still not a teenager. Harry couldn't figure why. The servants and attendants would say nothing. Even Draco, Harry's closest friend, seemed to pretend that nothing strange was happening.\n\n\"He's a great man,\" Draco would say, as an answer to any and all of Harry's concerns. \"A great, great man.\"\n\nWhen Draco went off to school, Harry stayed behind. \"Why?\" Harry would ask his father. But Voldemort refused to provide an answer.\n\n\"He's a great man,\" Draco said that morning at the train station, as Harry helped him push a trolley heavy with books, cauldrons, and robes out to the platform. \"Just trust that there's a reason.\"\n\nBut there never seemed to be. Rather than going to school, Harry was instead subject to all manners of tests. Strange, northern wizards and witches from abroad would come to the Voldemorts' grand castle and examine Harry, muttering darkly under their breath. \n\n\"Well?\" Voldemort would say. To which the wizards and witches would all reply, \"There's nothing to do done. It's a spell with no counter.\"\n\nOf course no one would tell Harry what they were looking for or what was wrong with him.\n\nOne day, Voldemort was meeting with many of his top lieutenants to discuss their expansion across the Asian territory. Harry saw Rookwood and Ms. Lestrange, neither of whom had ever been the least bit kind to him. There was Draco's father, who never seemed to be at ease, no matter where he was. There was pleasant, little Mr. Pettigrew, who Harry quite liked. He was less intimidating than the others and always showed great kindness to Harry...though Harry could not help but notice how that kindness always seemed undercut by a strange kind of sadness, as if Mr. Pettigrew were always just on the brink of tears.\n\nAnd, of course, as always, there was Mr. Snape, who Harry had never liked and suspected he never would. That was because he had often overheard Snape speaking to Voldemort, suggesting that Harry be sent away - that he did not belong at his father's right hand and that nothing good would come of Harry's presence. Why he hated Harry, Harry had no idea. Neither did Draco, who had freely admitted that he did not like Snape either, though for quite different reasons.\n\n\"He can't be trusted,\" Draco had said. \"My father's told me stories. I don't know why Lord Voldemort trusts him like he does, but you shouldn't.\"\n\nSo at the end of the meeting that evening, when Harry found himself cornered by that very Snape, he was on his guard.\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\nSnape's eyes were still and nearly blank, as if whatever emotions he may have been capable of feeling had been cast away through dark magic. Without a word, the older wizard snatched up the young boy's hand, pressing the tip of his wand into the boy's palm. Harry started to cry out, but after a brief flash of light, it was over.\n\n\"When you feel ready...\" said Snape, carefully choosing his words. \"When you realize that this life is not the one you were meant for... go there. You'll find your answers there.\"\n\nHarry was dumbfounded. He said nothing as Snape stormed out of the room. It was only once alone that Harry held his palm up to the light. At first he saw nothing, but then two words appeared, hovering just above the flesh:\n\nGODRIC'S HOLLOW\n\nThe words meant nothing to Harry, but the moment did.\n\n\"The life I was meant for...?\" \n\nHarry Riddle was 11 years old and everything was soon to change.", "Harry groaned as he rose on the morning of his eleventh birthday, not wanting to leave the comfort of his black bedsheets. He spared himself a glance out at the murky sky, before heading down the magnificent staircase of the Voldemort household. His father had decided the conquest of both the Ministry and Hogwarts on the same night - deserved a little celebration, so he had shattered Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration to construct an essential palace out of nothing. Step by step, Harry felt his weariness be steadily replaced by excitement for the upcoming day. It was his birthday! He was finally eligible to attend school and meet other kids.\n\nBecause, of course, Harry had never had a friend in his life. He knew that his parents had been murdered by Severus Snape, the leader of the feeble Resistance, and that Voldemort had taken him in to spare him death at Snape's hands as well. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, a cloaked butler straightened up at attention and addressed him: \"Does my Lord Harry require anything on his special day?\"\n\nHarry gave a soft smile at the man - Lucius, he thought - but didn't respond. He knew that these men were inferior to him in every way, and he didn't feel like allowing the man to feel equal to him with a polite answer. He continued down the hallway, portraits of Salazar Slytherin and of his father decorating the walls. Kreacher waited for him at the dining room, a letter in hand.\n\n\"This is from your father,\" the house elf croaked. \"He is wishing Master Potter good joy on his birthday, and is asking when Master Potter wants to go shopping for Hogwarts.\" \n\nHarry took the letter, feeling an odd sense of happiness. Long had his father spoke of the beauties of Hogwarts, of the bravery of his noble ancestor Slytherin. He had bragged about the purity of the halls, and the glory of the teacher. As son of the headmaster of the school, Harry had known he would get in - but the actual prospect of buying his supplies was especially happy.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThat evening, Harry and his father strolled down the streets of Voldemort Alley, having gotten all their supplies without paying a cent. Nobody wanted to charge the man who had allowed them to live and continue their professions. As Harry admired his shiny new possessions - which included the latest model of the Nimbus broomsticks - his father stopped him short. \n\n\"Harry, I want you to have this.\" Voldemort said unsmiling, holding out a black diary. \"This was mine back in school. If you ever need to communicate with me, simply write what you mean to say, and I will answer. I must warn you, however - do not get too attached to this book. Spilling your emotions into it will only have negative consequences for the both of us.\"\n\nHarry smiled as he took his birthday gift from his father. A diary was unconventional, but still nonetheless a good present. He stored it in his gold cauldron, shouldered his green robes, and continued on his way with his father in tow.\n\n\nIn a darkened pub down the street, a large, burly man stood camouflaged against the shadows. He watched the exchange between father and son with a frown morphing his scarred face. His black trench coat fluttered in the breeze. His eyes widened suddenly at the sight of the diary, as he fingered the fabled sword of Godric Gryffindor that rested in the scabbard at this hip. \n\n\"Soon...\" muttered Rubeus Hagrid.\n" ]	[ 1, 2, 18, 52, 186 ]	[ "1502967235", "1503000792", "1502978961", "1502974733", "1502973998" ]
	[WP] Vincent Van Gogh and Edgar Allan Poe meet you at the Pearly Gates. Poe says, "You're invited to the Too Late club, for people who only became famous after their death. And by the way, it totally sucks."	99	[ "\nOff-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 line set me back, reeling in disbelief. \n \nWhat did I do? \n \nI thought back to my life. It had seemed like such a tiny, unimportant thing. Standing in front of two men I had admired beginning in Middle School and having them say that my life had been remembered at all was flattering. \n\n\"But what for?\" \n\nEdgar looked at me incredulously and Vincent rolled his eyes. \n\n\"Was it my writing?\" \n\nVincent shook his head. \n \n\"My art?\" \n\nEdgar glared at me, snorting while shaking his head. \n\n\"Music?\" \n\n\"Oh God no!\" Vincent laughed uncontrollably at the thought. \n \n\"What then?\" I asked excitedly. My lips curled into a smile at the thought that the people below me were probably reading about me in history books right now. \n\n\"Your death.\" Edgar said solemnly. \n \n\"My death?\" \n\n\"Don't you remember?\" Vincent asked. \n\n\"Well, no, not really.\" I answered. \n\nEdgar pulled out a medium sized phone and pulled up a Buzzfeed article. \n\n\"Woman Dies During Orgasm While Giving Partner a Blow Job.\" \n\n\"It's been shared over 300 million times. Somebody said that your husband is going to get royalties for using your death as a plot line for any future work of fiction.\" Edgar said, bluntly. \n\nfuck\n\n\n \n", "Passing through the Gates was just a formality. I found myself in a lovely garden, wondering who the many other people were who were meandering about. Two old-fashioned looking gentlemen, who seemed vaguely familiar, approached me. \n\n“Welcome,” said the poorly-dressed man with the scruffy reddish beard. “I am Vincent Van Gogh. We are here to greet you specifically.”\n\n“Wow, I’m a tremendous admirer of your work! But why me specifically?”\n\nThe dark gentleman with the neat black mustache, neat but threadbare suit, and the haunted eyes spoke. “We are here to induct you into the Too Late Club. The membership is comprised of people like us who achieved fame only after their deaths. I regret to inform you that membership in this club is not particularly enjoyable.”\n\n“Wait, this has to be a joke, right? Or a mistake. There’s no way I can ever become famous. I was a civil engineer.”\n\n“Oh, trust us, it’s no mistake,” said the disheveled artist. “There are many such clubs, which were set up by the Father to help people reflect on their lives with kindred souls. See that group over there by the fountain? That’s the Not Soon Enough Club. They achieved fame in their lifetimes but then pissed it all away.”\n\n“Your language, Vincent,” tsked Poe. \n\nI looked over at the group, mostly well dressed but looking as unhappy as Poe and Van Gogh. I thought I recognized Tiger Woods and F. Scott Fitzgerald. “But what’s the purpose of being in this club if I’m not famous yet?”\n\n“You can look down and observe your heirs and the fate of your works, and understand the spirit, whether benevolent or malevolent, that directed your life,” said Poe.\n\n“Starting now,” said Van Gogh. They led me to a tiny pool and told me to look into the water. I didn’t expect much. What works could they possibly be talking about?\n\nIt took a while for me to perceive any images in the pool. Eventually I realized I was seeing the ongoing lives of my family. It was painful watching them grieve, and tedious watching the probate process and my wife selling our house to move to Florida. But I still couldn’t imagine what my fellow club members were talking about. \n\nOne day I watched my son sit down at my computer. He clicked on the Reddit bookmark and my user name popped up. “Great!” I heard him say. “I know Dad liked the Jokes page. I wonder what else he was into.”\n\nI was a bit concerned. Poe had warned me that membership in the Too Late Club was not a good thing. I went looking for him with a few questions, but couldn’t find him and returned to my pool an hour later. As the pool cleared, I saw my son still at the computer, fully engrossed.\n\nIn a moment he spoke. “This is amazing. Dad’s done a zillion of these Writing Prompts! I can totally publish these!”\n" ]	[ 1, 5, 34 ]	[ "1502973777", "1503028395", "1503003490" ]
[removed]	[WP] You are a scholar of the arcane from a realm filled with many warriors and gods; suddenly you find yourself in modern day North Korea.	1	[ "\nOff-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\nNo prompts referencing real world drama (including politics, recent tragedies) \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6ubnhi/wp_you_are_a_scholar_of_the_arcane_from_a_realm/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1502991954", "1502992024" ]
	[WP] The heat is regularly above 100°F in the U.S now, and the phrase 'to sweat bullets' is now a real thing. In a worldwide crisis of an AK47 ammo shortage, the US decides to cut down on obesity by drafting large men to do nothing but physical exercise to produce the bullets to aid the soldiers.	1	[ "\nOff-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", "“JOHNSTON! We need more ammo!”\n\nBlake was under heavy fire, shouting at Brody from across the clearing. Brody had sprinted ahead during a lull in the crossfire, but there was no way Brody could keep up. \n\nBrody had to do it though. As an elite member of the 12th Ground Squad it was his duty to sweat enough bullets for his platoon.\n\nBrody braced himself for the long 15 meters ahead of him without cover when – \n\nWHIIIIiiiiizzzzzz!\n\n“Sniper!” Brody shouted to Blake. This was bad. They had been separated from the rest of the Squad. Brody had to keep his cool. He may have been the token fat guy, but he was still a soldier dammit!\n\nBrody quickly took one of his canteens off his belt. He quickly chugged the contents to stay hydrated and loaded his AK47 with his own sweat, which was now generously pooling under his arms from the threat of the sniper.\n\nHe tossed his canteen out into the open, where moments before he was about to sprint. At the same time, he popped his head up over his cover, rifle ready.\n\nPOW!\n\n-the canteen exploded into shrapnel –\n\n-but Brody was looking-\n\nTHERE! A faint, but gleaming flash from the enemy’s sniper scope.\n\n“Blake! 100 meters, 11 o’clock!”\n\nBlake gave him a nod accompanied by a stern look of duty. Brody knew what was next.\n\n“3… 2… 1… NOW!”\n\nBrody began to sprint, while at the same time Blake peeked over his cover towards the sniper.\n\n-Brody began to run-\n\n-and he heard bullets behind him-\n\n-and in front of him-\n\n-because Blake was firing-\n\nBrody rushed behind Blake’s cover, almost collapsing on top of him.\n\n“Got that son’ bitch! Looks like you arrived just in time too!” Blake took out his empty clip and began to reload. “You’re a lifesaver Brody!”\n\n“I guess that makes us even then. Now let’s get back to the Squad!” The two soldiers reloaded their weapons.\n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1503018068", "1503030048" ]
	[WP] You are a superhero with a power so incredibly destructive that there is no way you can use it without obliterating yourself and our planet. Tell me about the time you finally decide to use it.	16	[ "\nOff-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 first time I noticed I was different was on July 16, 1945.\n\nMy name was Adam.\n\nI was walking the hills outside my home town of Alamagordo New Mexico, early in the morning. Unable to sleep I roamed the hills looking for a way to quiet the bees in my head. \n\nThe War was on. My mother had given all her stockings, our rations, and her time to the war only to find she had given her son to the war as well. When the telegram came she couldn’t bring herself to read the damned thing, it was the first time I had seen her cry. Father sat in the den, his uniform from the last great war entombed behind him, a Lucky Strike hanging loose in his mouth. The times he moved were only to replace the cigarette that burned his lips and replace it with another one. I never saw him move again, not even when they came to take me away.\n\nAt twelve I had no idea how to handle the news. My brother was gone. My nineteen-year-old brother was gone, leaving his pregnant wife behind. Leaving me behind.\n\nOut in the desert I did the only thing I could think of, I started to scream. I was sad and angry in a way that only a child can be; Pure and without restraint. I screamed until my lungs hurt and I fell to the sandy floor. I balled my fist, and for the first time in my life I struck the ground.\n\nColors flashed. My world was heat and wind that sounded like the world ending. I watched in horror as the ground around me was devoured and the sky was filled with dust. Once the dust settled I found myself in a field of glass and pain. I peeled myself from the ground that had melted around me and walked toward town in silence.\n\nI went home burned, my cloths turned to cinders, my body covered in ash. My hair, a brittle dusting of black atop my head, littering the path behind me. It wasn’t long before the army was at our door.\n\nWithin days I was strapped to gurneys, my hands tied to my sides, while men in white coats scraped and cut the skin from my body to create the “Last bomb the world will ever make.”\n\nIn their twisted sense of humor, they named the creation the “Atomic Bomb”. They claimed it was to give me credit for the victory of the Allies, but I knew it was so that they never had to admit where the bomb came from. No one could see an atom and, now, no one could see me.\n\nLess than a month later they dropped pieces of me into Japan.\n\nMy mother would write to me. They would always be signed “Love your Mother and Father” though it would always be in my mother’s handwriting. She would praise me for helping to keep our country safe, but I could never get the photographs of shadows out of my head. No matter what she said I felt like a murderer. It only got worse when she died of cancer later that year, I never heard from my father. The dreams of shadows and ghosts haunted me after I was shown the film of destruction in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. \n\nThere were big brothers in those cities. Mothers. Fathers….\n\nOh god, the Children.\n\nSmoking quickly became my only vice, it reminded me of home. Through being moved from place to place to keep me out of “Enemy Hands” I would distract myself by thinking of the time my brother taught me how to play baseball, or the time we stole some of dad’s liquor and stayed up all night. After a while it was easy to forget who was the “Enemy” was and escape into my childhood that somehow felt more real than the existence I was forced to live now.\n\nCountries and Powers would send surgeons in the night to steal my pieces. With every Piece of me that got taken my name would be changed and I would be moved somewhere new. \n\nWhen Russia stole my eyes and teeth I was moved to where they called me Navajo-Kǫ. When France acquired the skin from my back I was moved to one “Secure Location”, and when China took some blood, to another. My names varied from Bravo-Zero-MB, The Prometheus Experiment, And most recently, The Welles Solution.\n\nBy the time Kim Jong Il took control of Korea and allied itself with China and Russia I was already an old man made of more scares than skin. I was quickly running out of body I could “Donate to the cause” and our incompetent President had started planning to euthanize me “Humanly” and harvest what he could.\n\nTo be honest I was ready to die, I was tired of being slowly butchered and forced to live another day just to be cut up and drained again. I was tired of being the cattle that fed our wars.\nThen I heard about my nephew.\n\nHe had fallowed in his father’s footsteps and joined the army, working his way up the ranks until he retired with full honors in Guam with his family. Korea launched its first slice of me and wiped the island off the map. The last bit of my brother was taken from me using my own skin. It was like he died all over again.\n\nIt was in that moment I knew what I needed to do. War was on the horizon while visions of Japan played through my mind. I knew I couldn’t live through that again. It was time for Humanity to run its course.\n\nI broke out of my cell and clawed my way to the top of the highest cliff I could find. In the middle of nowhere I knew the world would end. \n\nFor the first time in years I felt alive. As I jumped I knew I was doing the right thing. My impact will set off every piece they have stolen from me. It would be quick. No one would have time to feel the fire consume them. I felt the world turn beneath me and only had one thought before I hit the ground.\n\nMother nature will find a way to heal itself. Maybe next time a species rises to power they will see the glass and shadows of our generations and learn from the mistakes we have made.", "My name is Thomas James Carmac. I used to be a superhero, but now I simply reside within the timeless void of nothingness. I was known across the world as the Paladin, someone who upheld justice and eradicated evil. But my power led to the destruction of the planet and God knows how much of the universe. This is my account of what led to that small blunder. \n\nIt had been over a hundred years since I gained this power. I can channel the energy surrounding the planet into a giant blast, capable of creating a black hole. This would however result in the destruction of the world and sometimes myself along with it. Thus, I swore only to use this power if something so powerful, so dangerous, appeared that no military could defend against it.\n\nI did test the power from time to time, dabbling in energy this world provides and the energy of the life that exists on it. At first, I stopped a robbery. Caused a small time-space distortion in the vault and killed the robbers. However, this distortion consumed the bank, and as a result the bank was no more, and I was caught inside the distortion. It took me 3 months to create a new body to return to reality, which is an ordeal I'd rather not experience again.\n\nNext I thwarted an attempt to assassinate the president of the United States... By killing him myself. A terrorist group managed to infiltrate the white house, so I used my power to consume it into whatever abysmal void lays on the other side of the black hole. Thankfully this took place a couple dozen years after the bank incident so I had learned some mastery of my power by then, due to some minor events not worth noting here. However, I engulfed the building, killing everyone inside. I then using said skill in this power to forcibly pull the President out of there. \n\nWell, he was terrified, confused and broken after he thought he had died, feeling an excruciating pain as his body was ripped asunder, only to return to life sat in the crater that was once the white house with no conceivable scientific explanation for what happened to him, and would probably still be in counselling for what he witnessed that day if the world wasn't destroyed. \n\nThe last event, the one that ended up destroying the planet and everything on it, was when I used it to stop my arch nemesis, Geoffrey, or as he called himself for his villainous activities, Godfrey. \n\n10 years ago, he learned of my power and also managed to somehow obtain it. Well, instead of upholding peace and justice, he went on a massive decade of destruction. Not quite enough to demolish the world or destabilise the space-time continuum, but enough to get whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it. It was the last fight he awoke to our powers' full potential.\n\nI confronted him, in the streets of London, after aimlessly chasing him for for the past 7 years. He was cornered, a void behind him and death ahead of him. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. \n\nIf he used his power to rip a wormhole out of here, I would crush it and kill him while he's inside. If he tried to confront me, he'd be met with overwhelming force. If he tried to escape down the street behind him he would simply run through into a black hole I placed there to trap him. It was then I witnessed a blinding light I had not seen since I assimilated control of reality. I knew he now possessed the power to destroy the universe if he so desired. He however was so naive he only realised he had enough power to destroy the world. \n\n\"Godfrey! I demand you stand down now, else I will obliterate you with overwhelming force!\" I called out. I hoped his new power had made him more aware of his situation.\n\n\"You really think you can beat me, you fool? No matter what you do, I will persevere. And after I deal with you, this world is done for!\" He replied. At this point I will admit, I was rather stupid and arrogant myself. As a result, I saw this as a challenge.\n\n\"You want to destroy the world? No... I won't let you! I'll--\" I blurted out, being cut off by a powerful beam striking me through the chest. \"Oh ho, that must've hurt. So what is it that you'll do, Paladin? Come on, don't tell me that killed you! I was beginning to enjoy myself!\" Godfrey shouted. He was so full of himself. What a dick.\n\nA smile came across my face. \"If you think that's enough to take me out you're wrong. And I'll stop you by destroying the planet before you!\" I noticed a small look of both curiosity and terror in my enemy's eyes. \"Don't think I won't. I have the power to rebuild the planet. I can restore the world to its original state, but without you in it.\" \n\nI was lying of course. I can destroy things, but at the time I couldn't create anything. I could pull people or objects out, but dragging out the entire planet would be impossible, and it'd be easier to remake it, since then it could at least be in my image. \n\nWell, this caused Godfrey to pause. Maybe he will back down. Besides, killing him is a waste of his potential. Perhaps I could use him. However that wasn't the case. \"I-I don't care if you can rebuild it! I'll destroy the planet, and I'll do it before you! Bring it on P-Paladin!\" he nervously taunted. He knew I was a stuck up little son of a bitch who never backed down from a challenge, but he was scared that I would suggest such an outlandish idea since Humanity sees me as their saviour. Well, after a few seconds of rather awkward silence, bolts of matter and energy started to rip through the air, destroying everything in its path, and blasts that tore right through the fabric of time also got thrown out. At the end of it all, the space-time continuum became so fragile even the most basic of actions could destroy it. I could sense this after our long and gruelling fight, and I had vowed to obliterate everything before my enemy. \n\nI caused an explosion so powerful it swallowed the planet and created a black hole in its stead. Now this wasn't the best idea, since I'm tired as all hell and it'll be a while before I get any power back to do anything. Oh and I did kind of eradicate all life on earth, along with earth itself. No big deal, I'll rebuild it all eventually. Honestly it is surprising I haven't encountered Geoffrey here, wherever I am, yet. I thought for sure he would be here.\n\nOh well, I'm better off without his company anyway. I'll at least have all the time in the (former) world to recover and train in preparation for creating a new plane of existence.\n\nI guess I should probably learn some self control for next time. If there is one.\n\n\nEdit: This is likely to be a one time story, since while I enjoy creative writing, I'm likely not going to create a sub related to it unless I feel confident enough that people would enjoy the stories. I might one day who knows." ]	[ 1, 5, 9 ]	[ "1503056047", "1503081105", "1503069513" ]
[removed]	[Wp] Its a normal day on earth, and you decide to post a joke AMA about being the last person alive. Someone takes it seriously.	1	[ "\nOff-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\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/6uihgp/wp_its_a_normal_day_on_earth_and_you_decide_to/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1503069409", "1503069757" ]
	[WP] She's a sexy Werewolf secret agent with a secretive past. He's works part time at the local pizza joint and is studying to be a dentist. Together, they tackle who's turn it is buy coffee.	0	[ "\nOff-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", "\"and that's game\" he declared loudly as he threw down his hand of cards face up winking at Claudia and finishing his coffee. Claudia squinted her eyes the rules in place, the objective cards and every placed keeper and creeper. That toothy bastard had pulled it off with panache. \"you motherfucker, you sneaky sneaky bastard\" she smiled at Tim brightly and drank her latte. They split the last of the vanilla slice while Tim put the deck together and packed it away.\r\r\"okay well you got it last time I'll pick up the bill\" said Tim as he got up with his wallet and went too the counter. Claudia pulled a face at him, she had already paid and she always did because she could afford it. She was happy to do it for her friend, his companionship was worth the moderate cost in her budget and she knew their taste in coffee was a burden on him.\r\rThe look from the counter told her Tim had worked it out and the words he mouthed really spelled it out.\r\r\rPs: Will get to finishing it after dinner." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1503074749", "1503081219" ]
	[WP] Jaxarians are widely considered to be the dumbest sentient species in the galaxy, as they've never talked, even when subjected to the worst ridicule. However, today someone has done something so incredibly stupid that a Jaxarid has broken its species 10,000 year long vow of silence.	40	[ "\nOff-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", "Jaxarid. They are rumored to be mute, saying nothing, not even in times of life-and-death danger. They all stand two meters tall and are generally slender, faceless, well-dressed, mysterious, humanoid things, harkening back to an old human horror video game from times long, long ago. Whether they are a hive mind or many singular entities is unknown, as are many other things about their species with the exception of their looks and tacit tendencies. \n \nI wouldn't exactly call them tendencies, though. There's a rumor going around that they made a vow about ten thousand years ago to only speak in matters with galaxy-ending repercussions. This is extremely worrying if you are the captain of a ship with one of them on it, because if they say anything, you know you fucked up big time. This brings me to the issue at hand. \n \nI'm the captain of the Federal Association Ship 405, or what I call the \"Parking Lot,\" as it's basically a moving space station. Two kilometers long, five hundred meters wide, two hundred meters tall, the Parking Lot is a true behemoth, mostly used for trading. So I'm a space version of the Earth's \"long-haul trucker\" people I've read about. But enough about me, my crew is what matters here. We're one thousand strong so I'll skip to the few that matter for this not-so-brief introduction: Karau, a hardworking human from the Sol system, Daisuke, a technologically inclined human from the colonies in the Proxima Centauri System, Fred (that's what we call it), a Jaxarid from who knows where that just does what it's told, and Ruwen, a being from the Crystal realms. The four of them, as well as myself, occupy the bridge with passersby using the bridge as a shortcut to get to the other side of the ship. \n \nNow we're caught up to speed. As of this moment, the main five of us are in the bridge, as I mentioned we usually are, and Karau has just adjusted the Parking Lot back on-course from a diversion, shifting us towards the Sol system for an important fuel delivery. Karau leans back in her chair and sighs in relief, as the adjustment took over three hours. Daisuke stands up to stretch. I sit in my chair. Ruwen plots possible diversion routes incase anything should happen. Fred just sort of stares out of the the bridge window and blows my mind by breaking the rumored vow of silence. \"Captain,\" its voice is deep but smooth, like a good jazz singer's, \"I request we readjust our course once again. Karau has made the most idiotic mistake I've ever seen.\" \n \nThe bridge is silent. Daisuke's jaw might as well be on the floor due to his disbelief, Karau looks offended, Ruwen is… Ruwen, and I'm almost as dumbfounded as Daisuke. \n \n\"Well, what's the issue, then?\" I ask. \n \n\"Karau's course was set for center of Sol rather than to the actual destination.\" Fred answers. \n \n\"Why's that an issue?\" Karau verbally prods Fred for an answer. \n \n\"As of several seconds ago, this ships guidance computer and related systems have locked themselves onto Sol. They cannot be undone without a manual reboot. This will take forty-eight hours. By that time, judging by our current speed, we will be within solar flare distance of Sol. Except we cannot follow through with a manual reboot because the single cereal flake that Karau thought was insignificant seventeen hours ago has gotten into the engine room and activated emergency power supplies for the entire ship.\" Fred responds in its deep, semi-monotone voice. \n \n\"Karau. What did I say on day FUCKING ONE?! NO--\" I yell. \n \n\"—eating in the bridge foods that can cause crumbs…\" Karau finishes. \"I was hungry though!\" \n \n\"Hungry? HUNGRY?! I'VE GONE FIFTY HOURS WITHOUT FOOD NOW BECAUSE OF YOUR CONSTANT COURSE ADJUSTMENTS NEEDING TO BE MONITORED! HELL I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW FRED (if that's even your name) COULD SPEAK!!\" I've lost it. I take a very deep breath and attempt to regain composure. \"Daisuke, Ruwen, start gathering up important supplies and put them in the starboard loading dock. I need to make an announcement.\" \n \n\"Yes, sir.\" Daisuke says, salutes, and then takes Ruwen with him to go start the evacuation of what was once the biggest freighter ever built.", "He looked on in awe, as if he couldn't truly believe the extent of the madness that had befallen the human. It was a truly horrifying, despicable act, that Quo'rin thought no-one to be capable of. He began to speak, innumerable syllables cascading violently from his mandibles mouth, as his two sets of hands filled with purple-orange fire. Yes, the world and sky would be ripped asunder. Yes he would call down the fury of a million Judgements. But this man...this MONSTER... Shouldn't have put milk in his green tea." ]	[ 1, 4, 14 ]	[ "1503074804", "1503126983", "1503101478" ]
[removed]	[WP] You are heavily depressed, and one night slit your wrists to the bone. You wake up the next morning, absolutely fine besides a mild pain in your wrists.	1	[ "\nOff-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\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/6umt54/wp_you_are_heavily_depressed_and_one_night_slit/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1503112943", "1503113033" ]
[removed]	[WP] The zombie apocalypse has started. You have a secure shelter, but the only supplies you saved for the shelter is 23 tons of nuetella.	1	[ "\nOff-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\nResponses must be at least 30 words. Prompts that are likely to generate such responses are also not allowed. This is essentially a fill-in-the-blank, or you asked a question likely to generate a simple answer. Prompts should encourage a story or poem. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6urjux/wp_the_zombie_apocalypse_has_started_you_have_a/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1503176388", "1503176408" ]
Write about tracking down and capturing illegal time travelers who attempt to implant themselves into alternate timelines. Or not, write whatever calls to you from the void of your inner muse.	[WP] You work for the Temporal Immigration Agency, which tracks and monitors time travelers who move between different timelines.	31	[ "A young man ran frantically down the street, desperately avoiding the gunshots that exploded around his head. He ducked and dodged as he made his way around a corner, desperately clutching a metal briefcase to his side. When he felt he had a moment of safety, he cracked it open and peeked inside, giving a sigh of relief as he saw that his precious cargo was safe.\n\nFor now, he reminded himself, * it was safe for now. With the enforcer on his tail, it would not be long before he was an smear on the ground and his mission left uncompleted. \n\n\"How the hell is that bastard doing this!?\" he hissed to himself. Weren't the time cops supposed to stop meddling in the timelines? How could they afford to tear up the place like this? He stowed that question away in the back of his mind. Survival first, hypocrisy of enforcement officers later.\n\nA short ways behind him, officer-1302 scanned the streets for any temporal natives. There were none, the support crew would have been doing their jobs well reducing their time footprint. They might be reprimanded later for their itchy trigger ringer, but the clean up crew would remove all signs of their presence.\n\nThe criminal was starting to get exhausted. It would not be long now until they were caught and punished for crimes against the timeline.\n\nThe officer rounded the corner and was greeted by a full auto hail into their chest; the perp was getting desperate.\n\n\"Michael Nohl, you have now added the crime of assaulting an officer of the law onto your list of charges. By doing so you have lost the opportunity of a lighter sentence in return for immediate surrender\".\n\nMichael gasped as he saw the officer continue to approach him, the gun he had illegally obtained failing to penetrate their matte-black armor. The visored helmet stared unwavering at him as the spent shells clattered to the floor. Tossing his gun away, he began sprinting once more, desperate to reach his destination.\n\nThe officer let loose another spray of bullets one of which clipped Michael's shoulder causing him to curse in agony, but still he pressed on. As long as the briefcase was safe, such minor injuries did not matter.\n\nThe chase continued as such, one lean and haggard, sprinting for all they were worth, the other a silent juggernaut, advancing with terrible certainty. Michael's lungs started to feel as if they would explode as he took sharp gasps of air, pushing his body to the absolute limit. Ahead of him he saw a glimmer of light and it lifted his spirits, he was nearly there! If he could just clear this street, he would be somewhere much too public for the officer to do anything, and for the first time in his life he would have won.\n\nBut a few feet before safety, a bullet tore through his knee, sending him crashing to the ground and sending the briefcase sliding along the ground out of reach. He stretched forward, trying to bring it back into the safety of his arms when a mailed boot came down upon his back. The officer stomped, causing Michael to shout in pain and stop reaching for the suitcase. \n\nWith almost contemptuous ease and slowness, the officer picked up the metal case and retrieved the contents, giving them a quick scan.\n\n\"Get your hands off that! You might damage it!\"\n\nThe officer ignored his shout and finished their examination. Identity of contraband confirmed, class A contraband, cure for virus-4805, commonly known as the SuperPox. \n\n\"Michael Nohl, you stand charged for the illegal transport of a Class A item with the intent of use to disrupt the timeline, non-compliance with an officer of the law, assault on an arresting officer, unlawful possession of a grade B firearm and littering involving said firearm, how do you plead?\"\n\n\"Please,\" he began to grovel, \" that's my mom in there. Look, I'll take any punishment you want. I... I know I'm not so good, but she deserves better, a few more years with my siblings\"\n\nThe officer stared at him silently before speaking again, \" The accused has not denied any of the charges against them. They are found guilty. All counts. Commencing sentencing\"\n\n\"What?! No! You ca-\" whatever else he intended to say was cut off as the officer unloaded into the back of his head, killing him instantly. Confirming that he was dead, the officer smashed the syringe in their hand, letting its precious contents drip into the floor.\n\n\" Officer-1302 to dispatch. Situation has been resolved, requesting technicians to remove traces of temporal anomalies and restoration to pre-incursion state\".\n\n\" Copy that 1302. Technicians are inbound now. You are needed in timeline-986. We have identified several possible incursions.\"\n\n\"Acknowledged dispatch. On the way\"\n", "##THE PAINTED PRINCE - PART 1 CONTINUED##\n\n######[](#dropcap)\n\nShe gasped as she saw what the leaf was taking her to, the mottled, warted maw of the moon, face wreathed in angry shadows.\n\nSo very far away from home.\n\nWith a harsh sound of rushing paper, the leaf let go, setting her adrift in the vast, empty void of the nighttime sky. She continued to speed forwards though, the force of gravity welding her to the surface of the moon. With a mild thump, she collided with it, a cloud of moon dust rising in a circle around her.\n\nThis has to be a dream! There is no way I’m on the moon. I’m going crazy. I forgot my meds. I need help.*\n\n“You certainly are quite fine, thank you very much,” a gravelly, sad voice exclaimed.\n\nGeorge stared once more into the shadows, hoping to catch a glimpse and the speaker.\n\n“You cannot see me my dear, so it is silly of you to try,” it exclaimed, an androgynous warble that sounded ancient.\n\n“Why can’t I see you,” she replied.\n\n“I exist here and there and everywhere. Nowhere and now are my favourite times, but then and back are terrible places to be. Now, what can I help you with?”\n\n“What do you mean you exist everywhere and nowhere? For a start, that’s impossible, I’m on the -”\n\n“Excuse me, you are on the Dark Side, not the moon. Secondly, my favourite time is nowhere, and I am everywhere. Thirdly, why do you all ask such stereotypical questions? What, why, how, who etc - can’t any of you think of something original?” It sighed, almost deliberately letting the exasperation creep in. Now, it sounded less like an old man and more like a sullen teenager, tired of the same monotonous question.\n\n“I want to go home.”\n\n“You don’t get a choice in this. It happened, move on with your, um, life. Get a handle on yourself. Explore everything, be cradled in the loving arms of nothing, view memories of others and the sparking lives and deaths you wore.”\n\nThat was the last of the voice George heard before it burst with a pop, the shadows shifting uneasily as it left.\n\nA thin coat of dust covered her now, the grey of broken concrete and distant dreams.\n\nMore questions started to grow and she didn’t know where to start. No answers, no fairness, no judgement or harsh punishment. George didn’t want to admit it, but she felt something hollow again, a broken thing about herself that led from one thing to another.\n\nThe words got caught on her tongue, snagged on her lips. She spat them out though, jumbled and splashed in tears.\n\n“I’m dead,” she whispered, the sound a roaring crowd that screamed and screamed and screamed. Deafening music that crashed against rocks of time and space, a drowning wave that trapped her under it.\n\nHelp she thought.\n\nHELP! HELP ME PLEASE! GOD DAMMIT, SOMEONE HEAR ME! HELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELHEPHLEPHLEPLHEPLHEPLHPELHEPLHEPLHPELHPELHPELPHLEPLHEPLHPELHPELHPELPHELHELPHELPHLEPLHPELHPELHPELHLEPLHEPLHPELHPELHEPHEPLHLPELHPEHPELPHPLEHLPLHPELHEPLHEPHLEPLHEPLHEPLHEPLHEPLHEPLHPELHPELHPELHHEPL.\n\nHelp.\n\nhelp.\n\nhelp.\n\nGeorge curled into herself, her breaths shallow and weak. The desperate hope rattled and croaked, the distant light of cold, alien stars illuminating her, the dark side of the moon peppered in silver light.\n\nAlone and wishing, hungering once more for life.\n\n\n\n", "##THE PAINTED PRINCE - PART 2##\n\n######[](#dropcap)\n\nShe awoke with a start, her face buried in her arms, smudging the work below.\n\nYen looked down at the sketchbook, the purple paint dripping down as tears, the water stains the gouged eyes, so full of hurt and hate. Those delicate flicks of blue, long, tapering eyelashes that seemed to flutter off the canvas, take a beautiful life of their own. \n\nThe girl looked up at her with painted eyes, so empty and lost.\n\nThe bell rung out, shattering the half-formed illusion. With the scraping of books and rustling of chairs the painting fell away, shoved into the deep recesses of her artbook. Walking out, she stood patiently in wait for the bus, with its gaudy yellow smile and black tears that streaked behind it. That, and for the clever old smile of the deformed graffiti carved into the windows. And maybe, just maybe, the pure babble of smoke and rubber and human chatter, a little piece that managed to fit in the hollow ache inside her.\n\nWhen she stepped inside it and leant her face against the glass, the claw marks that scarred it traced across her face, she was glad, and for that she cried tears of joy, lost in the gentle thrum of the bush and thankful, merciful ignorance of the others.\n\nHer sister had died 6 years ago, far, far away from her. Her life cut short with silver scissors. That was what she liked to whisper to herself as she slept, but in truth it was the gnashing, woeful beep of a life support button.\n\nLike that lost autumn, her sister was caught in the wind and spun away, far, far away from this cruel and dirty place.\n\nYen began to cry harder, the sadness a close companion, faithfully at her side like a big black dog, their rancid breath against her neck. Slobbering unwanted kisses, suffocating upon her chest, clawing and pawing at her for more of everything. It was never satisfied and when she refused it it would begin that horrible barking and she would try to stop it, stop the eyes it drew close. Stop the muttering and the worried looks, the sighs and shuffles and pitying glances.\n\nYen missed her, so much, and as the world lurched to a stop and the mechanical click of doors opened, she felt empty again, the wet of the road slippery under her boots, the light patter of rain a steady drip of cold. She sighed, and walked on, the tears falling as she did.\n\nHow terrible can you feel about a death you caused? How many ghosts can haunt you as you too slowly die?\n\n\nYen thought she had so many questions, yet she had so much time.\n\nNo one was home, as was usual, and Yen continued to trundle into her room, the messy piles of sketches and folded blankets everywhere. Half-finished paintings hung in a loose fashion on the walls and a typical set of broken brushes lay scattered across the carpet, a tide of paint behind them.\n\nA minor storm had begun to start, rain and water washing away the grime and dirt. It flowed in crystal streams into gutters and drains, dragging the green of spring with it. Yen looked more closely out the window, trying to truly see the image. Reaching for an empty page, she dragged the pencils across it, attempting to trap the thing she saw before her, a hazy river of trickling time.\n\nShe got lost in this, the drawing that colored and shaded itself, her hands but attached objects that stayed still as the art pulled itself free, a sculpture nestled inside a block of blank white paper.\n\nWhen she’d finished, all that was left was a silver stream of dreams, a mirror that reflected the fleeting green of spring and summer, floating from the trees.\n\nIt was amazing, but she tore it apart as she usually did. Nothing she made anymore was worth it, just silly things she made because she'd run out of time. She coughed, her chest rasping. Turning away, she looked up at the now bright night sky, the moon full and round, glowing in the night. \n\nMaybe it was just her imagination, but she thought she could see a little figure trapped up there, a moon man. When she ate her bland dinner in the silence of the dining room and drank the cold mixture of pills and cordial, the thought of the moon man stayed with her, a masked man with long, flowing black hair and a silver suit. When she struggled to bury herself in sleep, she thought of the moon man, his mask now smiling a long, kind sort of grimace. And finally, when she awoke to the nightmares, she saw the moon man walking down the street, whistling as he did.\n\nBehind him, walking as if they were reflections of one another, were two siamese cats, one a snowy white, the other a ruddy black. Each had one blue eye and one yellow. Their tails flickered as one as they padded down the sidewalk, the street lamps flickering at their approach.\n\nYen screamed, the sound echoing in her room.\n\nA heavy, gloved hand covered her mouth, bitter and leathery.\n\nShe bit down, feeling her teeth plunge into empty space.\n\nThen she saw its face, the polished glass, pointed mustache, a ticking clock. It wore a bow tie and bowler hat, with a thick trench coat draped over it. With more force, it dragged her towards the now open doors of her closet, screaming as she did. Yen wondered just for a second what her parents were thinking or doing for that matter, her screams inaudible to them.\n\n\nAs the darkness of the closet wreathed itself around her, she felt the gnawing abyss and the gentle, unsullied sound of gears, clicking and ticking inside a mechanical heart.\n\nYen gave a shallow breath, feeling weightless. It was so very dark, far away from the normal gullet of her closet. Reaching out, she tried to grab a stray piece of clothing, feeling for the warmth of a furred jacket or summer dress. Nothing, just empty space.\n\nStruggling again, the metallic arms tightened around her, drawing her closer into the clock man's body. Soon, the biting teeth of the skeleton nipped at her, steady biting that drew her ever deeper. Then, the stabbing pain of shattering glass and the hollow ticking of the clock.\n\nYen was gone.\n\nShe was gone.\n\nWhere was she?\n\nHow was she?\n\nTrapped outside of time, beaten by a hollow clock.\n\n", "##The Painted Prince - Part 1##\n\n######[](#dropcap)\n\nLike a swarm of fiery moths, the autumn leaves spiralled on the wind, bright and delicate as the trees shook them free. The fields were covered in loose blankets of embers, glowing red as the brisk chill of night heralded the start of winter.\n\nGeorge looked through her round window, gazing down at the fields. It would be harvest time soon, and Pa would go out in the fields with the scything machines and the straw men they had made so long ago would be slashed into nothing and the night would be filled with the sounds of grinding wheat and threshed corn.\n\nShe didn’t look forward to that.\n\nSick as she was, it felt so wrong to be trapped inside, locked inside her room. The vast, open expanse of the farm looked so beautiful and inviting, the grass a soft green that shone caramel in the sunset, the faraway forest something pulled from a story. She ached for her paintbrushes - she regretted not bringing them. It would have been a joy to just sit and copy down the rustic elegance of it all, to capture the last rays of the falling sun.\n\nAs silent as a mouse, she crept down the stairs, wincing with every step as the house groaned. The old wood moaned, as almost ashamed of her deceit. Her Gran was out shopping, as she usually did, her Pa drowning himself to death in liquor. No one was around, but the harsh guilt was heavy as lead inside her stomach.\n\nTenderly cupping the handle of the door, she began to twist, trying to ignore the harsh sounds of metal scraping against the wood. With a final, saddened sigh, the door clicked open, swinging open with the force of the wind.\n\nOutside, the entire world stood waiting, slowly turning to twilight.\n\nWith a step, she walked to the steps, inhaling the intoxicating scent of the fresh air, of the world tight with tension. Then, she leapt, her feet burying themselves in the moist earth. Trees shook with the wind and the burning moths took flight again, scattering themselves across the fields.\n\nTurning, she ran into the fields. Wheat rushed past her in a tide of sunny yellow, the brittle wreaths scratching her skin. She felt so alive, so free, her hair billowing behind in an inky cloud of black. It was like a fairytale, so carefree, so innocent.\n\nEventually, the final forest of grain whistled past her, the sun low in the sky and the forest behind it a deep, dark, enchanted purple. Trapped between light and dark, frozen in the pale amber of time.\n\n\nSighing, she sat down and let closed her eyes, letting the whispering wind send the fiery moths aflame and the woodlands to creak and groan with the weight of ages gone past.\n\nThe pillow was soft against her face, the blankets warm and the once constant scent of damp earth down. Her eyes were bound shut, her sensation of her body distant as if trying to see through a murky pond or listen through the thick plaster of a wall. Forgotten, fragmented, obscure.\n\nFrom that point onwards the invisible sights and sounds grew fainter, a sterile smell of antiseptic or the harsh glare of white light. Rolling wheels, shouting, crying and the uncomfortable sensation of stabbing metal. Coiling, serpentine tubes that choked her, imposing men clad in grey that grinned without eyes and wielded silver scalpels. Dreams and memories dredged up from the depths.\n\nGeorge wrenched herself from the dream and vomited across the ground, the bile black and glistening like oil. The grass hissed, the tar like liquid burrowing deep into it. She vomited again, this time the disgorged mass was a dark, navy blue, the colour of aged ink and then. With a final, mighty heave, the rotted remains that she released were peppered with red, sparkling ruby droplets.\n\nThe air was filled with the coppery tang of blood, and the night was shrill and silent. Stars, a cold, distant blue, looked down at her with utter disgust, vengeful angels from the abyssal void. Trees grew into grasping, skeletal talons, the moths dead and damp in the night. Vast, misty hazes of fantastical Nebula and alien worlds glimmered far, far away.\n\nShe tried to move, feeling the dead cold slowly crawl up her legs. Back at the house, all was still, the wind long gone and the windows a vacant grey. No lights, no car, not even the familiar glow of a fire or crackle of the television. Nothing at all.\n\nStumbling, George entered back into the wheat field. Now, it was a sea of yellow grass, and the rustling of footsteps rippled through it. It was impossible to see anything, just a dark tunnel of half-folded stalks and tall, barbed eaves. Sometimes, she could almost see the glaring green of eyes, staring out at her before they dissolved into the shadows.\n\nMonsters, whispering in the dark.\n\nA hollow girl, trapped outside of time.\n\nEventually, George dragged herself out, the narrow spaces of the leafy tunnels gone. Night gripped everything, covering every surface in solemn shadows. Desperately, she tore at the door handle, the door locked shut. The windows were down, bolted and the lights stayed out. Pressing her ear against the door, she held her breath, listening frantically.\n\nInside, the wood groaned, almost as if someone walked inside, the subtle movement of a stranger's feet against the withered wood.\n\nMoving to a window, she peeped inside, the kitchen dark and empty.\n\nA single, quivering line sparkled at her, a neon shade of luminous blue. Delicate, like silk or fine gauze, it was so visible to her - shimmering there, trapped somewhere else. Delicately, she began to prise open the window, the feeble iron bolt shattering with a loud, violent outburst.\n\nAs stealthy as she could, she slunk through the window, her feet greeted by the cold tiles. Her breath hung in the air, little clouds of white smoke that faded into starlight.\n\nMoving ever onwards, she tiptoed into the next room, face stuck in a sort of permanent mixture of curiosity and fear. It was a definite fact no one but her was here, or that anyone had gotten the house. It was silent, all a bad dream. Pa and Gran would be furious, running around town looking for her.\n\nA small grin climbing onto her face, she went back to bed, the soft embrace of the mattress a gentle comfort.\n\nThen, she felt it, a feathery touch of a paintbrush.\n\nThe sound of buttons dropping to the floor, lacquered black and vermillion too.\n\nThe gentle swishing of a shoelace, whispering as it coiled.\n\nAnd the cavernous laugh of something ancient, inhuman, bellowing in the blackness.\n\nHer eyes flung open again, the translucent green of the wallpaper chipped and worn, bearing ages of pity and scorn. Her window was open, a single, lonely autumn leaf, a silver gold in the moonlight, fluttering onto her desk.\n\nShe upright, pulling the covers tight. The wind howled louder now, the leaf dancing to the spinning song. Vast, chrome fields of metal grass and enchanted trees stretched out before her, as alluring as the passionate inferno that afternoon.\n\nReaching out with a single too-big hand, she snatched the leaf as it spun, feeling an invisible tug.\n\nIt pulled harder now, flickering and fluttering like a bird, growing larger with each second. George tried to let go but it held tight, tearing her away from the bed and dragging her, kicking and screaming, out the window.\n\nThe wind began to rage now, the wheat a flood of sterile steel that wavered and woed, the vast black horizon stretching on. Somehow, the leaf dragged her higher and higher, the house and farming shrinking like mice as she ascended upwards. Soon, the chill fog of clouds surrounded her, streaking as a white jet as the leaf tugged her ever higher. Stars stopped glittering and then began to shine, violent, angry blue that screamed of summer storms and the electric hum of lighting. Burning, searing, desperate tearing as the wind howled and the earth grew to be footnote beneath her.\n" ]	[ 2, 3, 3, 4 ]	[ "1503207660", "1503203502", "1503204577", "1503203389" ]
	[WP] It turns out that reincarnation is the true religion! You have died and find yourself reincarnated as an animal cracker.	30	[ "\nOff-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", "\"Oh, shit. I'm an Animal Cracker.\" I tried to wiggle my legs. I think I was an elephant. \"How did this happen?\"\n\n\"Howdy,\" said a donkey. \"You were reincarnated.\"\n\n\"Wow. You can be reincarnated as an Animal Cracker?\"\n\n\"Yep. We'll be eaten and our souls stapled to the wheel of life and death, to be born again.\"\n\n\"Can we be reincarnated as anything?\"\n\n\"No. Just humans and Animal Crackers,\" said the donkey. \"You know, only things with souls.\"\n\n\"That just raises more epistemological questions than I had to begin with,\" I said. \n\n\"Don't worry about it,\" said a kangaroo. \"We've been bought. Some kid's about to eat us.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" I stammered, \"you seem to know what's going on. How?\"\n\nThe donkey brayed. \"Being born human wipes your memory. You must have been a human last time. Now you're back to being an Animal Cracker, and you won't be mind-wiped until you're born human again. Hope you enjoyed it while it lasted. There are a lot more Animal Crackers produced than humans, so look forward to a few thousand life-times of production and consumption.\"\n\n\"Whoop!\" The kangaroo was snatched from beside me. \"My turn! Bye!\"\n\nThe kid dropped crumbs into the bag. \"Oh, God, please no!\" \n\n\"Quit complaining,\" said the donkey as the kid shoved him in his mouth. \"Sometimes you get to be a camel. That's pretty rad!\"\n\nI was the last in the bag. The kid considered me, and played with me in his hands, making circus noises. Then he put me back in the bag and threw me away.\n\nAfter hours, I crawled from the trash can. Once I make my way to the pantry, humanity will pay for its crimes. " ]	[ 1, 17 ]	[ "1503203421", "1503205173" ]
[removed]	[WP] You ARE reddit.	1	[ "\nOff-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\nResponses must be at least 30 words. Prompts that are likely to generate such responses are also not allowed. Prompts should encourage a story or poem. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6uuze6/wp_you_are_reddit/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1503223729", "1503224010" ]
	[WP] Humans can spontaneously gain abilities from their last social media post. Your last post? "Danny DeVito is my spirit animal"	101	[ "\nOff-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", "On Sunday morning, my hair began to fall out. \nNot that this was anything new, I periodically lose hair from stress which is terribly inconvenient for a woman. This time was different though as instead of just a small patch of hair being bare and able to be covered, it came out in fist-full clumps. \nMonday morning, my jeans become too long. I thought I had merely stretched them too far as I had gained weight recently and my thighs always pushed my jeans to the limit. I had started a new exercise and diet routine that I felt was finally working. I was exceedingly pleased. \nTuesday I woke up with a raspy voice. I thought I was getting the strain of strep throat that was plaguing the office and called in sick. I felt fine. The only thing that really concerned me was that I had somehow developed a New Jersey accent that masked my Northern West Virginian drawl. \nWednesday I woke up to see that my size 10 lady's shoe size feet had shrunk considerably. Somehow, they were beautifully manicured. I have never been to a nail salon and yet they were free from all of the usual dead skin and corns. I bought a beautiful pair of cerulean blue heels and took many pictures. #prettyinblue. \nThursday my mom stopped by to check in on me and when I answered the door, I realized she towered over me. I am usually 5 foot, 8 inches and look my mom directly eye to eye but this time, I only came up to her collar bone. She screamed when she looked at me. \n\"What?\" I croaked aggressively. \nMom ran from the house and into her car. She pulled out her cell phone and started calling someone. \nOne hour later, a police car pulled up to the house. \n\"Alright sir, come out with your hands up! What have you done to Amelia Fex and why are you wearing her clothes?\" The young policeman held out his gun, shaking nervously. \n\"I don't know what you're talking about! I am Amelia Fex! See, here's my driver's license and my cell phone.\" \nI turned to get my wallet out of my purse and the policeman shot me. Lying there in a pool of my own blood I saw Danny DeVito appear in a cloud over me. \n\"Sorry kid, I had to get some of the heat off me so I could get some damn peace. It wasn't supposed to go down like this.\" He looked at me mournfully. \n\"Just one more favor before I die?\" \n\"Anything.\" \n\"Wear the Man-Cheetah costume and say 'I'm big, you're small.\"' \nAs I passed from this life, I knew that I had indeed truly lived as a teary Danny DeVito fulfilled my last wishes. \n \n \n " ]	[ 1, 11 ]	[ "1503231213", "1503234865" ]
	[WP] Your psychiatrist refuses to treat you, because you are hopelessly repressed. You should stay this way as long as possible, because beneath the surface you are an untreatable monster.	10	[ "\nOff-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", "At nights I wake up sweaty, awoken by nightmares and atrocities commited by a person I can't see. And now every day I walk around haunted by images I can't unsee - panic stricken pale faces in wide eyed fear of whoever -whatever- it is that is coming towards them...\n\n~~~\n\n\"Hi.\" My smile is as fake as the one on the face of the receptionist who greets me from her desk as I enter through the door. \"Is Dr. Milana in today?\"\n\n\"Let me check,\" she replies, standing up and adjusting a skirt that looks like it was stolen from her sixteen year old daughter's closet. \n\nShe walks away with a purposeful stride and a sway in her hips that's meant to be sexy, and I keep looking long enough for her to catch me as she briefly glances back. I'm not attracted to her, I just hope it makes her feel better.\n\nIn her absence, I wonder why she couldn't have just used the phone - but she's back only a minute later with an answer to my question:\n\n\"She's not in.\"\n\n\"It's been two weeks,\" I state. \"When, then, will she be in?\"\n\n\"You can perhaps try again next week,\" she suggests, already comfortable seated in her chair. \n\nToo comfortable to rise again quick enough as I speed walk past her and her desk towards Dr. Milana's door.\n\n\"Stop!\" I hear behind me. \"Stop, you can't go in th-\"\n\nToo late. I reach the door and open it, letting myself into the room that I hadn't seen since two weeks ago when my psychiatrist, Dr. Milana, had seen me for one session and then discontinued answering my calls.\n\n\"Oh!\" she spouts, sitting up abruptly in her desk.\n\nJust then the receptionist runs in and apologizes to Dr. Milana while grabbing my arm.\n\n\"No, no,\" Milana says, untying her hair. \"He's here. Might as well let him stay.\" \n\nThe psychiatrist sounds like she's trying to repress a sigh, and the receptionist sounds disappointed in herself as she replies, \"Yes, ma'am.\"\n\nShe backs out of the room and the door clicks softly behind her, leaving just me and the psychiatrist. \n\nMilana opens a drawer, pulls out a notepad, a pen, and a pair of glasses. She gestures at me. \"Sit.\"\n\nI do. \"You've been ignoring me,\" I say.\n\nA subtle ripple of emotion flickers across her features, but ultimately, her face remains composed. \"You know why,\" she responds.\n\n\"I'm having them again.\"\n\n\"The dreams?\"\n\nI nod.\n\nShe turns her attention to the notepad before the worry I saw a glimpse of in her face blooms.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" I ask her, a moment of silence having come and gone.\n\n\"Writing you another prescription.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nShe looked up. \"No?\"\n\n\"Everytime I start having the dreams, you just give me medication.\"\n\n\"Everytime you start having the dreams, you keep coming back,\" she gently retorted.\n\n\"To help me,\" I argue. \n\n\"I am helpi-\"\n\n\"No. You're a psychiatrist. Help me figure out why I'm having these dreams and how to make them stop. You keep giving me treatments for the symptoms when we should be focusing on the root cause of it all.\"\n\nShe breathes deeper, and her eyes tell me that she wants to tell me something more. But, in the end, she submits to her guarded professionalism and looks away from me, back to the pad and restarts scribbling my prescription.\n\nI get up and head out, but her voice stops me:\n\n\"Please. This is more serious than you think it is.\"\n\nI look back and see her holding the paper with the prescription on it to me. Her eyes are earnest and sincere - but the impression I have of her keeping secrets make them seem, in a way, sort of sinister.\n\nI walk over and snatch the paper. Our eyes meet. She holds my gaze waveringly, then submissively looks down and away.\n\nAnd I walk out.\n\n~~~\n\nI have another dream. Not a peaceful one like Martin Luther King, Jr's. A savage one. More of a nightmare. I'm in the body of someone else, doing indescribable things to everyone that crosses my path. There are no such things as enemies and allies, no friends or foes. I am the sole predator and everyone else is just...prey.\n\n~~~\n\nI haven't gone to the pharmacy. Haven't taken my meds. I feel the same. Besides the nightmares and all, nothing else has really happened. Everything is pretty much the same - maybe there was nothing to worry about after all. \n\nI was wrong.\n\n~~~\n\nEdit: Might continue\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 4 ]	[ "1503266928", "1503271379" ]
Idk if this has been done yet but I thought it would be a cool concept	[WP] You realized that after a freak accident you have the ability to freeze time, but it's been several hours and you don't know how to change it back.	105	[ "\nOff-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", "DAY 1:\n\nI almost got killed, who gets drunk and drive a truck? This son of a bitch in front of me.\n\nI was really close, time froze when the truck touched my butt, maybe I have a magic butt? I almost died from a heart attack when I looked back and saw a fucking truck so close.\n\nI punched him, do you think it was a dick move? He almost killed me! I didn't know my punch was strong, I didn't know I would kill him. Time unfroze for two seconds, it happened while he was dying.\n\nThe weird number in my wrist changed.\n\nDAY 2:\n\nI am still thinking about the guy I killed earlier, it was unintentional, I swear.\n\nI tried to touch my butt into trucks, I tried to yell, I asked kindly, nothing worked.\n\nI made a effort to eat a pizza earlier however it's impossible to eat anything, I always gag the food in the last second, and microwaves don't work either.\n\nDAY 3: \n\nIt happened again.\n\nThe time unfroze for three seconds, I was just passing by the nearest church and saw a girl being robbed, the guy had a knife and she blood in her shirt, I took the knife and stabbed the guy's throat. \n\nThe time unfroze instantly, while he was dying, she looked at me terrified.\n\n\"Wh—\". Time froze again.\n\nThe number in my wrist changed for the second time.\n\nDAY 4: \n\nI found out the only way to force the time to keep going is killing someone.\n\nI saw a map with the location of a famous lab close to me and decided I should give it a try.\n\nEverything was locked, except a window in the second floor, it was hard but I made it.\n\nTwo guys with white coats were looking to a baby playing with a weird toy in a glass room, \n\nThe room had a door and a hole in the ceiling, I jumped in.\n\nI agree I should have thought more about it.\n\nDAY 21: \n\nI am still here, I can't open the door and the ceiling is to high to reach, it's driving me crazy, 17 days in a row, the baby is still here, he is so cute.\n\nDAY 50: \n\nI can't do this anymore, I need to do something soon, I don't feel tired, hungry, but my mind.. It's still racing, it's still working, I am mentally exhausted. \n\nDAY 51:\n\nI need to kill him, it's the only way, I can't just stay here forever, I need to do it and open the door.\n\nGod forgive me.\n\nDAY 52: \n\n\"Ok...\" \n\n\"You can do it.\" \n\n\"Now!\" I yelled.\n\n\"You need to do it.\"\n\n\"Don't look, just stab him and run to the door, you don't need to look.\"\n\n\"Let's try again.\"\n\nI finally did it, with his blood in my hands, I could see their faces, pure shock and terror, they couldn't understand it.\n\n I was able to reach the door before the baby's death.\n\nIt's locked.\n\n\"OPEN THE DOOR!\" I yelled, kicking the door.\n\nThey left the room running, people were screaming and calling the police, while I was locked in this room with a dead baby.\n\nI looked at my wrist and the number had disappeared. \n\nThe time never stopped again.\t\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nIt's my second time writing something, if you have feedback it would be awesome, thank you.\n\n", "Shards of glass glitter brilliantly before my eyes. I can see how the crystalline flecks cast technicolor hues across my daughter’s forehead. The rebar that the flatbed in front of us had been hauling is inches away from caving in her face, her mother’s face. I never realized that before - how much they look alike. Why did I never notice? Her eyes are squeezed shut, one of her earbuds had fallen out of her ear. It is suspended in mid air.\n\nI practically fall out of the driver’s seat and the first thing I do is lose my lunch. Pulled pork and coleslaw from Fat Sal's BBQ Hole decorate the asphalt. It’s bizarre but the next thing I feel is a jolt of shame at the memory of her irritably picking apart the pitiful salad she ordered. She’d apparently become a devout vegetarian during my long absence. She told me over the phone, she insisted. I never listen, she murmured over her meager meal.\n\nI can’t tell if this was some act of God, some miracle. Perhaps everyone is allowed a few minutes of reflection just like this before they die. A moment to take stock of the journey so far. A vision of it’s end. The smoke from my tires hangs in the air. The smell of them threatens to inspire a digestive reprisal.\n\nAs soon as I have my footing, I stagger around the back of my car and swing her door open. I send glass pieces spinning away as I reach to unbuckle her seatbelt. She had only just finished admonishing me for what a shitty dad I had been. She can’t be too far off. Between bailing on her for two years to sell cars and screw young girls I had no business screwing and the divorce, I can somewhat understand her sentiment. \n\nThat and apparently trapping her forever in time and space just before her violent death are among my gravest sins. \n\nAt least the rebar wasn’t my fault. I take note of the How Am I Driving? phone number on the bumper sticker. Oh, someone’ll be getting a call about this strap-down hack job. Eventually.\n\nHours wear on. I hold her wishing I could do anything to ease that look off of her face. I will the vision to end. I beg for time to resume.\n\nOn the bright side, at least I can’t tell how much she hates me this way. I can’t hear her scolding me in her mother’s voice. I brush her hair out of her eyes.\n\n“I’m so sorry.” I whisper. Whether things return to normal or not, I know this is probably the only time I’ll have the spine to tell her so.\n", "So a few questions are starting to become a little more important as we near the... some hours mark. I think. Okay, new first problem - there's no way to tell time when time is stopped. In retrospect, that one might have been a touch obvious, but it doesn't replace the old top level questions: do I still need to eat? How in the hell am I supposed to flush the toilet? Or, perhaps most importantly, HOW THE HELL DO I TURN TIME BACK ON AGAIN? \n\nIt had all seemed like such a good idea, anywhere between seven and probably not more than thirty-six fake hours ago. God, that was going to be a problem, no more time based relational thinking. \"Get some extra time to finish the paper Marcus, that's the ticket. Look at how well that turned out!\" The paper was done at least, and as it turns out it would offer stunning insights into the efficacy of ancient Slavic concepts of the Triglav as a union of the dimensions of time, assuming I could make time a thing again. Damn you Perun, you've ruined me. \n\nTherein had followed a few.... nondescript time units of fun. Yeah, really pulling it together on that relative thinking aren't you Marcus? Hey, I'm a college guy, what the hell did you expect? Unfortunately, it turned out I hadn't made it to the part of the page describing the second half of the ritual, and a time stop made for a pretty terrible time to try to load up a different web page. Note to self - fiber optic cables? Still require time to exist for transmission. That'll be helpful if I ever get out. \n\nThis is fine.", "Since I was a child, Time has always been my interest. I wanted to learn everything about time. Everything time-related, watches... everything as long as it's related to time. I questioned it as well. \n\nWhen did time start? When will it stop? Can we touch time? Will we run out of time? Is time real? Is time just an illusion? Can we manipulate time? Will time run out? All these questions I asked but never got the answer to. \n\nYou may know the proverb: \"Curiosity killed the cat.\" right? And it seems I had the same fate as the cat. After studying spacetime for... years, I had the answer to all my questions. I had the answer to time. It was within my reach. But the answer was hidden for a reason. \n\nAs I grasped the answer to everything, It changed me. I passed out. It affected my body. I have accidentally sped up time's effect on me. I was basically decaying alive.\n\nThen it stopped. I froze it. I paused time. I rewind time's effect on my body. As my appearance went back to normal, I decided to use my powers. I froze time. I did everything. I stole, I went everywhere...and I did absolutely everything I could.\n\nLittle did I know about the effects of time freezing. I froze time for a century without knowing it. And worse... I... I... can't seem to resume it. I... can't find a way. \n\nTime has been frozen for a thousand years now. I can't fix this. I can't. If anyone... anyone... has escaped the effect... then they must get out of this timeline. There is a portal at my place. It will take you to an identical timeline where I didn't exist. If any time travelers see this... \n\nLEAVE.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nI'm new to writing so any feedback is appreciated! \n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 2, 3, 7, 25 ]	[ "1503284936", "1503331469", "1503311471", "1503294442", "1503289448" ]
	[WP] When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade, right? You've been receiving lemons for four years and it's becoming tiresome.	15	[ "\nOff-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", "Day 1: Dear Diary\n\nToday was pretty shitty, but in a surprising twist I came home to a basket of lemons! I decided to make a lemon cheesecake in order to celebrate me and my girlfriend's 3 month anniversary.\n\nGood night!\n\nDay 7: I got lemons again today. For the seventh time this week. My girlfriend was weirded out but I just said it was one of those subscription boxes. Made lemon tarts today. Running out of lemon recipes. Maybe I'll Google some more!\n\nNight\n\nDay 23: I got lemons today. Again. I'm seriously weirded out, and I'm out of recipes revolving around lemons. Decided to put some in my gin and tonic. Figure I might as well start again.\n\nSleep tight\n\nDay 54: JESUS CHRIST WHO KEEPS SENDING ME THESE FUCKING LEMONS. I'm half considering calling the police, but I'm not sure if it's considered a crime. My girlfriend, having read my diary has gone to stay at her mother's house for the night.\n\nPlease help\n\nDay 278: Lemons again. Why. I did everything I could. I called the police but they did nothing so I bought cameras. For the past 227 days I've been checking them every night but nothing.\n\nWhy?\n\nDay 478: THE LEMONS FOLLOWED ME! I SAVED UP MONEY FROM SELLING THEM TO MOVE BUT HERE THEY ARE, ON MY FRONT DOORSTEP IN CALCUTTA, INDIA. WHOEVER IS DOING THIS IS DETERMINED TO FUCK WITH ME. I'LL KILL 'EM I SWEAR TO GOD!\n\nBE WARNED\n\nDaY 946: here they are again. In Shetland, Scotland. I don't know how they got here, mail doesn't run on Sunday. I'm considering staying out all night to find the bastard doing it.\n\nDay 1240: Just got out of prison, I shot the mailman and got locked up for assault with a deadly weapon. Scottish laws are weird. Every day I got lemons though, which did help in the showers. Cut them in half and lodged them up there. \n \nDay 1563: I'm GoIng CRazY. ThEY AppEAreD aGain whO KeEps doing tHIs? \n\nDay 1666: I'm done. I got 500 lemons on my doorstep today. I'm making them into grenades and taking myself out with a citric bang. However, as a last meal, I'm having all the lemon dishes I ever made, washed down with lemonade... Maybe the bastard doing this will leave me alone in heaven.\n\nGoodbye cruel lemon filled world.\n\nThe diary ends here, it was found in the tragic and delicious wreckage of a man's house. Any identification would help\n\nSincerely, Eskimo Police" ]	[ 1, 14 ]	[ "1503329584", "1503331926" ]
[removed]	[WP] Describe someone you love watching sleep.	2	[ "\nOff-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", "##Chemical Dreams##\n\nHe hung there, caught between the world of dreams and death by a single hairsbreadth. A silver string, glowing brightly in the flickering light. His breath is harsh, rasping and sometimes I think I see smoke, wisps of it flowing out from his burning heart.\n\nOnce tall and strong, with the skin the colour of marble and hair a chestnut red, the sickness has shrunken him. The bones are now short, stunted. I feel afraid to even touch him - his skin is paper thin, glowing faintly in the moonlight. When he shifts, dreaming his innumerable dreams, the veins twist and turn, vast, slender fish deep beneath a sea of skin. \n\nWhen that final moment comes, the turning of the clock, that tick and that tock, I hold my breath. If I breathed, he would shatter, dissolving away into mist and broken glass. When his eyes close, when the world shudders and stops for the briefest moment, I am weightless, watching, hoping.\n\nPraying silent things to unknowing gods.\n\nTogether, we lie nestled inside one another, my frame curled around his. He smells like lemons, squeezed fresh with a taste of the summer sun. His skin feels electric, static with hidden love. He moves sometimes, swimming himself in a sea of distant stars.\n\nI often wonder what he dreams exactly, when I fall away and the widening distance pulls us apart. I guiltying hope he falls, a burning angel cast aside, falling into the black depths. Waiting, just for me, to return. A savior, dressed as a lover, bred as a fighter. Just. For. Him.\n\nTogether we descend, burning as one. In my dreams, his hair is a blazing trail of golden fire, blazing as we fall together. He is as he was, every curve the same, the skin thicker, darker, the eyes fuller, twinkling with starlight. Embraced, we fall, molten tears flying away to join the alien worlds above.\n\nDear god, let him live.\n\nDear god, please let him live.\n\nMy god, is he alive?\n\nThe breathing stops. I panic, the wires and buttons a tangle of thorns that I wrench off him, praying that I can tear them out, scrape away the poison. Alarms flash and scream, reds and greens, shimmering vaguely in another world.\n\nI cradle him, yowling like a wild animal. I sob and sob and sob until the screaming stops and the nightmare fades away.\n\nStaring back into the world, I gaze down at him, carefully checking the beating of his burning heart.\n\nSo still, so silent. A dying ember, blazing its last.\n\nSometimes, when the pain is too hard and the fear prowls like a feral wolf, I wish he dies. His soul, blue and green, the shades of the sea, walks away, leaving his broken shell behind. His face would be serene, almost joyful as the last wisps of life leave him. I could be happy, looking into this silver-gray eyes, into the empty abyss and find that single spark of love that I once knew.\n\n*****************************************************************\n\nIt was a saturday when the end began, a chilled spring. Cherry blossoms danced on the wind, pink petal puppets that sprung and spiralled. Cars and pedestrians mulled about and glass of distant buildings shined like a thousand mirrors, faceless, dull mirrors.\n\nAt first it was simple, a stream of not-wells and sick-days. I would ignore the vomiting and the long, dark days as he lay rotting in bed. He always had a reason, an explanation. When family visited he turned them away. When friends dared to knock he would bellow with rage. I always wondered why.\n\nNow I know.\n\nThe worry only started when he stopped painting. That day, when I heard the slow patter of dripping paint I shook. Those sounds of snapping brushes, so eerily like bones, broke me. Together we yelled as one until he did something he vowed to never do. He smashed our bond out all the way to the hall, screaming like a madman as the blows grew harsher and the tears began to truly flow.\n\nUnless the police came, I would have never been able to see him here. Caught in a storm of endless thoughts.\n\nI left, of course, driving all the way back home. Lone trees dotted the countryside as the monotonous drizzle of concrete husks and rusted railways trailed on. Corn and wheat glimmered like gold. Summer had finally come then, along with the gentle rumble of a fearsome storm.\n\nIt rained as I cried, the lone drive wet and wicked as the world tumbled past. I didn't know what was wrong. My lips motioned silently. I never used to pray - not after the pastor kicked me out of the congregation. Funny how some things stick around like that, taffy that gets stuck in your teeth. I relived my life in broken moments, a scratching record that kept tearing itself apart.\n\nEventually, when the storm died away, I called him. I sat on the front of my parents porch, coiled on the lone white seat. The phone buzzed a pale blue, his face dark and shadowy in this strange, other world.\n\n\"I'm so sorry,\" he blubbered, the sadness lingering in his voice.\n\n\"I am too,\" I replied.\n\nFor a few, infinte minutes, the silence was deepening. Soon, we'd both drown in it.\n\n\"Please take me back. It'll be different this time,\" he said. His eyes sparkled stormy gray, crackling with hidden lightning.\n\n\"I'm sorry. It's over,\"\n\nI ended the call, collapsing into my self. A hollow heart was all I had left.\n\nAnd now, it was filled with liquid hate.\n\nThings didn't change for a while. A few days became a few months and now look where we are, right at the start of autumn.\n\n****************************************************************\n\nI lean down and kiss him. His lips are cold, dead, silent. He does not rasp. He does not move.\n\nIs he gone?\n\nI whisper something in his ear. He smirks, a shadow of a smile, then begins to shake. Already his hair had begun to fall away, a short of sick finality. A sudden realisation swept him under, his lungs burning for air. All he had in the world was the salt and vinegar. Harsh and bleak, an endless grey field staring in the void.\n\nAs if I still cared.\n\nOr do I?\n\nAs I gently move him, joke and whisper, sit in silence until he awakes, all I can do is pray. I too am drowning, trapped in a prison that has no bars. Soon, the love will kill us both, drive the glass-like shards of itself deep, deep into our splintered hearts. \n\nHis lips turn red then blue, sliding across a spectrum of golds and coppers, metallic reds and chromatic blues.\n\nNow, at these final moments, I feel serene. As the night slowly closes to an end, as the last breath is pulled from the air and I feel his heart beat faster now, I let go.\n\nI tumble into the void, spiraling ever downwards.\n\nI feel the dreams cushion me.\n\nThe nightmares comfort me.\n\nPillars of black and white seem to crack away at my fragile mind. But he still stands strong, a titan struggling with the weight of the world. I wonder and marvel and he smirks right back.\n\nI feel the spirit leave his body, the final beat of an unfinished song. Darkness turned to light as he slowly slipped through my fingers, his life a golden stream of time. He grew still for the last time. With a sigh, the silver strand snipped and world shattered into dream.\n", "The captive.\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------\nDuring the night, the roof and the walls of my room reflected her beauty, the clean mirrors didn't frighten anymore, she was asleep, it was her favorite thing to do. From all the other girls, she was my favorite, she couldn't scream, she had the gift of silence, a gift she didn't ask. \n \nThe pain and confusion \ncould be a dream \ncould be a nightmare \n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 2 ]	[ "1503395398", "1503398787", "1503397835" ]
	[WP] "Due to technical difficulties, fire has been temporarily disabled. We apologize for the inconvenience. - God"	8	[ "\nOff-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", "\"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST THE FILE?\"\n\n\"Well I... uh... um\"\n\n\"This is your last chance, Stewart. The updated version up and running by tomorrow morning or you can say buh-bye to your job.\" God stood back, gave him another glare for good measure and stomped out of the door. Stewart pushed up his glasses, wiping sweat off his brow. He sighed and logged on the Earth Particle Rendering Department website. He knew he would have to rebuild fire, and better than ever before.", "A whisper like a lick of breeze floated into every last person's mind: \"Due to technical difficulties, fire has been temporarily disabled. We apologise for the inconvenience. Your creator, God.\"\n\nBerri, Grape and Bana were stunned into silence as the cracking flames before their eyes died. No embers. No fizzling out. Gone. Poof. Dead.\n\n\"What in the fuck?\" Berri reached forward and hovered her hand where the flames had just been. There was not the slightest bit of evidence of heat. Or fire. \n\n\"Didn't you just hear the message?\" Grape shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. \n\n\"Fire's dead,\" Bana reiterated. \"And what timing too. I'm fucking freezing.\"\n\nThe three were stuck in the wilderness after parachuting out of a plane went terribly wrong and they flew far out into the snow-topped mountains and were left stranded. They had only just got the fire going and the temperature around them was well below freezing. \n\n\"What the fuck, God?\" Berri looked up into the yellowish clouds. Snow was clearly due to fall. A thick layer of it. Perhaps a blizzard, Berri thought. Her body began shaking.\n\n\"We should huddle,\" Bana said, \"...Naked,\" she added as an afterthought, eyes grim.\n\n\"You what?\" Berri scoffed. She would have spat at the idiot but opening her mouth wide turned her saliva into an icy liquid, frosting her on the inside.\n\n\"No thanks,\" Grape said, ripping off her clothes. She grabbed her parachute and began twirling it around her body. \n\n\"And what in the fuck are you doing?\" Berri sighed, her precious hot air escaping her freezing lips. She closed her mouth in one sharp movement just as her teeth decided to chatter.\n\n\"Body heat, wrap, you know,\" Grape said before flopping onto the floor like some kind of burrito. \n\nBerri was now violently chattered her lips, body shaking so intensely Bana couldn't even focus on where Berri's eyes were.\n\n\"Uh, yeah,\" Bana did the same as Grape with her clothes still on, wrapping the nylon around her.\n\n\"You guys are stupid how's the parachute gonna keep you warm?\" Berri said between extreme shudders.\n\nAnd then the fire lit back on. The three went quiet, continuing to wait for rescue, Bana and Grape still wrapped up - Grape on the floor, Bana sitting straight, Berri practically cooking herself. \n\n~~Yep. I just did that.~~" ]	[ 1, 1, 3 ]	[ "1503405134", "1503449395", "1503407920" ]
	[WP] Dragons have always been a part of society. Humans and dragons co-dominate the planet as the higher species. Your roommate is a stoner dragon with no career prospects. You want to help them change that.	42	[ "\nOff-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", "\"Dude, what are you still doing here today? Go out and, I dunno. Fly around? Eat something? Find a hobby?\"\n\nI asked the question, but I really didn't expect a response. I wasn't disappointed. A puff of smoke wafted its way over to me, from where he sat curled into his nook, glaring at me from lidded eyes.\n\nI had found the advertisement on Craigslist. Seeking reliable roommate, it had read. Affordable rent. Must be willing to assist with molting.\n\nTrue to form, it was very affordable. Almost too afforadble. I had found myself looking for the catch, trying to figure out what was wrong with the other guy.\n\nWell, nothing was wrong, per say. Glimmers like Twenty Thousand Suns was a stellar roommate, as far as the dragons went. He didn't scratch up the floor in the entry passage too badly, on the odd occasion he actually left. He didn't smoke up the apartment. He didn't invite anyone over without asking.\n\nBut, in a way, that was the problem. Suns (Or Glimmer, if you were trying to piss him off) didn't do much of anything. He was perfectly content to sit around the place, an enormous mound of golden scales taller than I was, munching on the herb their reptilian race preferred.\n\nIt was only good for the dragons, they said. Oh, some enterprising souls had tried to smoke it, back when the treaty was first formed between our two species. They found their bodies soon enough, melted horrifically from the inside out.\n\nNot a good drug for humans. But for the dragons, with their cast iron internals? They could sit there roasting the herb in their second stomach all night, getting a nice little buzz.\n\nAnd so Suns had spent the last three years of our time together.\n\n\"So, uh.\" I began, as I flopped down onto the old, beat up couch positioned between his head and the TV, angled so both of us could see. \"How are things going?\"\n\n\"Same old. Nothing big.\" The deep voice rumbled from behind me. My coffee mug shivered on the counter where I had left it when I woke up.\n\n\"That's....that's cool.\" I managed. I tried. I really did. But I was getting kind of sick of him being here all the time. He was a good guy, a really good friend. He wasn't a bad roommate at all. It's just...It was hard, you know? I couldn't bring any girls back, with him brooding in the living room like a solar behemoth. The piles of his herb in the corner were starting to smell up the place. And....\n\n\"So, did you find the money for the rent?\"\n\nA claw tapped on the concrete floor in the nook behind me, irritated.\n\n\"Not yet. I'll get it to you, Jeff. Stop worrying.\"\n\n\"Only, it's due next week.\" \n\n\"I said I'll get it to you.\"\n\n\"Any plans for how you'll find the cash in a week's time?\"\n\nSuns whuffed angrily. A blast of hot air shot past me. I ignored him, keeping my face even and pleasant.\n\n\"I'll just sell some scales again. It'll be fine. You sound like my mother.\"\n\n\"Dude, you can't keep living off molted scales. It's not a consistent way to live, you know? What if you don't collect enough?\"\n\nHe glared down at me with one giant, red eye. I sighed.\n\n\"All right. All right. Sorry I brought it up. Only, well....\" I hesitated, but I was in it now. \"I guess I kind of found you a job.\"\n\nThe silence stretched out between us. When I hazarded a glance back, out of the corner of my eye, he was staring at me.\n\n\"A job.\"\n\n\"Yeah. A friend of mine needs some help. They're trying to clear some particularly stubborn foliage off a site where they're trying to build a Walmart next month. They're on a bit of a time crunch, so...Well, they need a dragon, and I said you would do it. Today. They'll pay enough to cover the rent this month and next, you know.\"\n\nThe dragons weren't uncommon, far from it. They had fared better than the humans, in our little squabble that had stretched around the globe. But, in the end, there were just more of us breeding than them, and there weren't all that many dragons who were willing to stoop to manual labor. The ones who would work together with humans found themselves very well paid.\n\nI was worried, ok? Suns didn't have any career goals, beyond sitting in our little nook of an apartment and getting high. He didn't even have friends, besides for the few who would show up once in a blue moon. He was just going to sit here ripping his scales out, until he was naked and starving. I didn't want to see that happen to him. So, yes. I found him a job. Maybe if this worked out, we could turn it into something regular. Something better than him sitting around all the time, anyway.\n\n\"I'm not taking a job.\"\n\n\"You could really use the money, Suns. It'll be fun. You like burning stuff.\"\n\n\"My wings are sore. I'm allergic to vitamin D.\"\n\n\"You like flying. Remember when we flew all the way to Chicago for the convention last year?\"\n\n\"....That was different. And my flame ducts are sensitive. They'll get irritated.\"\n\nI sighed.\n\n\"All right. All right. I get it. Sorry to have tried.\"\n\nWe fell into sullen silence, staring angrily at each other. Finally, Suns sniffed and looked away. His high was running out. He reached for the little pile he had collected next to him, but it was gone. He had already eaten all that he had set out that morning.\n\nWith an irritated snort, he rose up onto his haunches, delicately reaching out to the stainless steel tub inset into the wall beside him.\n\nBut when he pulled it open, it was empty, too.\n\n\"Where's my stuff?\"\n\n\"You ate it all.\" I didn't look at him. My voice was light and even.\n\n\"Where's the stuff that was in my pantry?\"\n\n\"I told you, you ate it all.\"\n\n\"Don't fucking lie to me. What did you do with it?\"\n\nI sighed. I hadn't figured it would work, but it was worth a try.\n\n\"Fine. I sold it, to pay your half of the rent.\"\n\nHe roared in my face. I paused, waiting, as my hair blew in a halo around my face. The smell of burning hair rose as my eyebrows singed around the edges. That was fine. Occupational hazard of being a dragon's roommate.\n\n\"Go buy it back.\"\n\n\"Can't, dude. I used it to pay the rent.\"\n\nHe gritted his teeth, exposing the pearly white fangs hanging low out each side.\n\nI grinned, ever so slightly.\n\n\"Luckily for you, I hear there's a way for you to make some quick money.\"\n\nFor a long moment, we just stared at each other. And then, hissing audibly, Suns pinned his flying satchel to the ground with one giant claw and began filling it with the firestone he'd need to flame the trees.\n\nThat was probably about enough for the day. I scrawled the address on the giant whiteboard against the wall while he worked, and then scurried back towards the hallway to my room. Time to make my escape, before he-\n\nI stumbled, caught off balance, as I felt the back of my sweatshirt catch on something. Something big.\n\nThe ground below me fell away, as Suns lifted me, his front talons firmly hooked through the back of my clothes.\n\n\"Oh, no. Not so fast.\" His voice rumbled throughout the apartment. \"This job pays well, right? Then you won't mind helping me. I could use someone to shovel firestone.\"\n\nBefore I could offer any complaint, the day of lounging in front of the TV I had planned flashing before my eyes, Suns was lunging out through the entryway. He only laughed as I screamed in protest. And then the ground fell away from beneath us as we accelerated into the sky.\n\n(/r/Inorai) " ]	[ 1, 27 ]	[ "1503423721", "1503430426" ]
	[WP] You frowned suspiciously. This was not what the Regime told you to expect when you found the rebel leader.	7	[ "\nOff-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", "Four men entered a long white corridor that seemed to grow larger in size as they went further in. One of them was a short, stout man. He looked like more of a barrel than a human. Next to him stood his opposite, a giant so large he wore pieces of armor taken from artillery and tanks like a suit of armor. The man in front and clearly the leader was dressed head to toe in black combat armor. Following close behind the group was a lithe man that watched their backs. While he looked like nothing more than a bag of bones he possessed impeccable strength that needed to be restrained with gauntlets that weighed down his arms and slowed his movements.\n\nAs they approached the end of the hallway they came to a set of double doors that were easily three times the size of the giant. They were made of steel so smooth they looked like water. After everything they had gone through they weren’t going to be stopped by doors. Friends had fallen, comrades murdered, and innocent countrymen had gotten caught in the crossfire. None of that mattered as the end was at hand and the monster behind this rebellion would face justice. They readied the explosives and retreated to the far end of the hallway. With the press of button an orb of auburn fire appeared eating everything in its path. The men buckled from the shockwave of the explosion, but did not avert their eyes. When the fire died the doors stood tall and firm with only black soot lining the door.\n\n“What the fuck? Leroy what are those doors made of?” shouted short man.\n\n“Obviously something stronger than our explosives Jack. I’m less puzzled by the strength of the doors and more by the strength of the hinges. Even if the doors were indestructible the hinges shouldn’t have been crushed from the shockwave,” Leroy replied with an air of sarcasm.\n\n“Cram it you two. That explosive would have alerted anyone within a thousand feet of here so we should be expecting company,” growled a man covered from head to toe in black body armor.\n\n“I don’t think so Rob. If this really was the Ghast you’d think they would have guards stationed outside his chambers. On top of that if they were sending troops to us they would be sending the whole base to protect him,” whispered the lithe man. \n\n“What so you think they’re just high tailing like a bunch of cowards Sal?” asked Jack.\n\n“That’s the only explanation to any of this.”\n\n“I suppose you gentlemen are here to kill me,” came a voice over the intercoms.\n\n“You bet your sweet ass we are Ghast. When we pry those doors open we’re coming in their to tear you a new one,” Jack yelled angrily at the ceiling not knowing where Ghast’s voice came from.\n\n“I really hope you reconsider what you’re doing. I don’t want to hurt you. That’s why I disabled the alarms and sent the majority of the troops in the base on a goose chase. I want all this fighting to end,” Ghast pleaded.\n\n“Do you seriously expect us to believe you want the fighting to end? If you wanted all the fighting to end why would you slaughter thousands of civilians for no reason?” demanded Rob.\n\n“I have never ordered the death of any civilians. Any casualties sustained were either active combatants or monsters plaguing these lands.”\n\n“What about my fucking family! They were just a bunch of simple farmers barely scraping by and your soldiers, your death machines, just come rolling into town shooting wildly. They died trying to protect some little girl your soldiers were chasing. Did they deserve to die for protecting someone?” shouted Jack.\n\n“Setting aside the fact that my soldiers do not shoot at random civilians if your family really did try to protect someone my soldiers would not have harmed them. They would have incapacitated them, taken out the target, and brought them back here. We do not murder innocents and we especially don’t murder heroes. Did you see your family’s bodies?”\n\n“I saw their bodies alright. You soldiers burned them so bad I couldn’t even tell who was who,” tears filled Jack’s eyes. “Their body parts were scattered and charred like pieces of cheap meat.”\n\n“Jack you don’t need to answer to this monster. He’s just trying to screw with your head,” said Rob putting an arm on his friend’s shoulder.\n\n“Jack? Would your last name happen to be Faust?” asked Ghast.\n\n“Yeah it is. What does it matter to you?”\n\n“Your sister is in here with me! Sarah has been so helpful you wouldn’t believe it. Sarah your brother is here. Come say hello,” Ghast said suddenly filled with excitement.\n\n“Jack is that you?” asked a bubbly voice from over the intercom.\n\n“Oh my god,” the tears in his eyes now flowed free. “Sarah what are you doing here? Why are you helping this shitbag?”\n\n“It’s not what it seems Jack. I can explain everything, but you need to promise not to hurt Ghast.”\n\n“So long as your safe I promise I won’t shoot the shit out of this bastard. Can we at least come in to the room we tried to blow up. I’m little upset the doors didn’t turn to paper.”\n\n“Of course, let me just open the door first,” she said.\n\nSteam filled the hallway as it was pushed out of the corners of the doors. The doors slowly creaked open to reveal a large chamber with a large pipe in the center. In the pipe was a glowing blue liquid and a child suspended in the liquid by series wires and tubes. His left leg looked like it was torn off by a pack of dogs and parts of his skull was missing revealing the soft membranes that hid behind. Sitting at a console to the right of the tube was a tall woman with short black hair. She had one a pair of rectangular glasses and white one-piece outfit that clung to her body.\n\n“Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to Ghast,” she said gesturing to the child in the tube.\n\n“I can’t believe it. We got our asses handed to us by a little kid,” said Leroy with a laugh.\n\n\"I kind of feel shitty for cursing at a kid now,\" said Jack.\n\n\"Don't be he's still the enemy,\" replied Rob. \"We want answers and we're not leaving here until either we like what we here or you're dead.\"" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1503452962", "1503458381" ]
[removed]	[WP] The voices in the dark	1	[ "\nOff-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/6vjic0/wp_the_voices_in_the_dark/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1503500386", "1503500406" ]
[removed]	[WP] At a support group for people who were the subject of a meme that ruined their lives, they all decide to get revenge on their respective memers. Problem is, no one takes them seriously.	1	[ "\nOff-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\nTroll or meme-based prompts are not allowed.\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/6vkkbc/wp_at_a_support_group_for_people_who_were_the//%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1503509614", "1503509794" ]
[removed]	[WP] You and two coworkers are taking the elevator. As it approaches your floor you let out a silent but extremely smelly fart. CATCH: Both your coworkers also farted and are doing the same	1	[ "\nOff-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\nNo troll or meme-based prompts. This includes posting fart or poop jokes as 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/6vn8eu/wp_you_and_two_coworkers_are_taking_the_elevator/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1503534316", "1503534365" ]
	[WP]You walk in an abandoned castle, and then the floor breaks under you and you fall 30 feet. You see a skeleton and sword beside you, then you hear a growl.	6	[ "\nOff-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", "No matter which part of my body hit the ground, that drop should have guaranteed me a dead man. \n\nBut it didn’t. \n\nIt still left me disoriented however. My face pressed against a cold cobblestone floor. The flickering of a torch was audible to my right, which should have been a blessing at first. That was until I realized that was nonsensical. \n\nMy arms staggered in an attempt rise. How did I even get here? My mind recalled my recent journey to meet with another merchant from a neighboring town. The forest in which I traversed. The tree I rested underneath… The fall. \n\nThe sound of footsteps echoed underneath me, sending my head jolting forwards in a panic. I should have known that I wasn’t alone. I grimaced. I’ve heard about cult activity before, and most if not all of them resulted in an excruciating end. \n\nAt the end of the corridor was a figure. First cloaked by the darkness of shadows, it appeared to be a woman with a malnourished body, but as it stepped closer to the light, I had to muffle the scream that would escape from my mouth. \n\nIt was a skeleton. With chalk-like bones that rattled with each step it took, it was slowly approaching my helpless body. Helplessly, I rose to my feet and backed away. \n\nIt’s jaw hung from its skull, as if it were ravenous. Despite it’s lack of organs, I still found the idea of it eating me alive plausible. \n\nI hit the heel of my boot against an object, causing the clattering of metal against the floor. Instinctively, I reached down and retrieved it. It was a rusty sword. \n\n“Stay back.” I muttered. In my attempt to sound intimidating, my voice cracked. \n\nSuddenly, a growl consumed my eardrums, as the world began to rumble. My hand reached to cling onto the torch end to stabilize myself. At that time, my eyelids clenched together. I was unable to notice the skeletal fingers that crept over my shoulders. \n\n“We need to leave.” It hissed softly. \n\nReluctantly, I obliged and allowed it to lead me down the corridors. Waves of shadows flashed across my face. I was still sore and the skeleton’s tight grip didn’t help with my well-being. The growling became louder each second. My heart did as well. \n\n“In here.” It hissed again as he ushered me into a room to our left. I glanced behind to catch glowing red eyes attached to a giant creature.\n\nI breathed. We appeared to be in a library. I followed the skeleton further inside where we found a table. He pulled out a chair for me and I awkwardly took a seat. He sat on the other end. His empty sockets glared at me. \n\n“S-sorry about that!” He began after moments of silence. My cheeks twitched as he attempted to steady his jaw, but it drooped even further. \n\n“Our king has been quite a feisty beast, ever since that goddess came along.” \n\n“Excuse me…?” \n\nMy fears have swept away at this point, and I was left feeling rather dumbstruck. \n\n“Well!” He continued, “centuries ago, our ruler found a way to anger Gaia.” \n\nI frowned in confusion. \n\n“You know, the Earth Goddess? Anyways, she proceeded to sink the castle 30 feet into the ground, and transformed our king and queen into like, hideous monsters if you will” \n\n“...And yourself?” I asked. \n\nThe skeleton raised his index finger in the air, as if he had an epiphany. “Oh, she also stripped all of the subjects, including myself, of their flesh.” \n\n“Right.” \n\nHe wasn’t very good at giving details. I studied him closely to the point where his visage wasn’t as scary as I thought it was at first. It looked as if it was smiling with his teeth stuck like that. \n\n“What’s your name by the way?” The skeleton asked enthusiastically, leaning against his palm as if it were on a date.\n\n“Uh, it’s Tobias.”\n\n“Weird name! Mine is Millicent.” He replied, “I was just a Page before I ended up stranded.” \n\n“I see.” \n\nI stalled my desired question for a bit. Pieces of aged parchment littered the floors. I was unable to understand the handwriting. It appeared to be Greek. \n\n“Anyways.” I said, interrupting the ominous emptiness of the room, “how do I get out of here?” \n\nMillicent straightened himself, causing his back to produce a crackling sound. Despite his unchanging expression, I could tell that it had darkened. \n\n“Oh. To be honest, I’m not sure if that is even possible. I haven’t seen another human here since the time I was one, so I was curious. I mean, we’re here in order to keep us from escaping this dungeon of an afterlife.” \n\nHe paused. \n\n“But maybe…” \n\nA purr was heard in the shadows of the room, one that would have belonged to that of a lion. Millicent stood up instantly. A hairy creature, one with the horns of a goat and the body of a panther sneaked its way towards us. It too had red eyes and they were following me. \n\n“It’s the queen.” He whispered, “I need you to take the sword and run.” \n\nA bead of sweat slid down my forehead. \n\n“But I wasn’t done-” \n\n“That doesn’t matter!” Millicent raised his voice, “I doubt her majesty would welcome strangers so kindly.” \n\nI nodded slowly and crept towards the doors, with the beast watching me from it’s hiding place. Then it bolted, creating after images behind it. \n\n“Run Tobias! Find the others!” Millicent screamed, as he threw himself in front of the angry monster. \n\nI wrenched the door open and slammed the door shut. However, that did not help deafen the sound of bones clattering to the floor within.\n\n*****\nThis prompt was super neat! I hope you like the story.\n[r/Lalondalot](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lalondalot/)\n", "The Castle. \n\nAfter an acrimonious break up with my long-term girlfriend, I decided that I needed a break, to get away from the bad atmosphere. \nSo, I took three weeks holiday from my job in the IT department of a large supermarket chain, making sure that the stores didn’t run out of things and the customers could always buy their tins of baked beans.\nI decided on a walking holiday in Scotland, taking a tent and camping gear with me. I decided to leave my mobile behind, as I seemed to spend a lot of my waking hours, with my phone glued to my ear, this would be a total break. \nI took the overnight coach from Victoria coach station, London, sleeping most of the four hundred odd miles and woke as we pulled into Glasgow coach station.\nI had thirty minutes to get to the train station for the train to Fort William. Grabbing a coffee on route, I made it to the station with minutes to spare.\nI got off the train at Fort William, and shouldered my rucksack. \n\nAfter leaving the station, I stocked up with supplies in the local supermarket and started hiking towards Achnacarry. It was only about twelve or so miles away, but I was in no hurry.\n\n\nThere was a ruined castle there, that I wanted to explore. Plus, the Commando memorial was not far from there, at Spean Bridge, that was where my Grandfather was based during the second world war. \nHe was one of the hundreds of troops who trained as commando’s there, the rugged landscape, was a ready-made training ground, with cliffs to climb. \nA lot of men died during training from falls or on live fire exercises. They were buried inside the grounds of the Commando training centre, there were at least two hundred white crosses. \n\nI took my time hiking cross county towards Achnacarry castle. Setting up camp off the hiking trail. \nIt was so peaceful, I didn’t see another person, but I did see deer early in the morning, coming down to drink from the tributary from Loch Lochy. \nI visited the Commando memorial at Spean Bridge, taking loads of photos. \nThen one day, I moved on to Achnacarry castle, I camped overnight in sight of the castle. \nThe following morning, I broke camp early, and hiked the remaining couple of miles to the castle. \nI took my camera, a head torch and a water bottle from my rucksack, and placed them in a small daysack, along with some chocolate and nuts. I hid my rucksack in a hole in the wall. \nI walked up to the castle, there was a fence stopping access to the castle, feeling the temperature drop by about 10 degrees, I was glad I had put my sweater on. \nThe ground was covered in pieces of stone that had fallen from the castle walls over the years. \nThe guide book said that the inside of the castle was too dangerous to be entered. \nApparently, there was a legend of a dangerous creature in the catacombs below the castle. \nPeople had gone missing, the most recent, who a young man, who went missing three years earlier. \nI checked to make sure there was nobody around. It was all clear. I slipped through the fence and entered the building. \nI was in a large entry hall, with several arched doorways leading off it. I put my head torch on and switched it on, and walked through the first arch, the room was thick with dust and broken stone. \n\nI thought I saw something glowing in the dust and rubble. I stepped forward to pick it up, when I felt myself falling. \n\nI fell for a few seconds, above me I could hear the rumble as the stone trapdoor I had triggered, swung back into place.\nAfter shaking myself down, and finding no injuries, luckily, my torch wasn’t broken, which is more than I could say for my camera.\n\nI looked around, I was in a room about twenty feet square, there were three arches leading out of the room. \n\nThen, I noticed something gleaming in the darkness, I carefully made my way over to it, it was an old sword, about two hundred years old. \nThen I noticed laying in a crumpled heap, in the other corner, directly below the trapdoor was a skeleton. It looked like it had been savaged.\nThere were teeth marks in some of the bones, and one leg had been broken. \n\nAs I stood there, still holding the sword, I heard growling. I looked round in a panic, the sound was getting louder. \nI was glad of that my torch had survived the drop. Then from one of the arches came a large wild dog. \nIt stood looking at me, there was drool dripping from its mouth. Suddenly, it launched itself at me.\nI swung my arm up to protect my face, forgetting I still held the sword. \nThe dog impaled its self on the sword, it’s weight dragged the sword from my grip. The dog twitched a couple of times and lay still. \nI quickly retrieved the sword, pulling it from the dogs’ body. I wiped most of the blood off on the dog’s coat. \nI sat and had a drink from my water bottle, I was shaking and spilt more than I drank. \n\nAfter a while, I decided to look for a way out, picking up a small stone from the floor, I scratched a mark on the wall by the first arch. \nI carefully explored the first corridor, behind the first arch, marking the wall as I did so.\nAfter about twenty-five minutes, I came to a large fall of stones, the corridor was blocked. I followed the marks I had made back to the room I had fallen into.\n\nI started searching the second passageway. With the same result. I returned to the start again. I was hungry, so I took a bar of chocolate from my daysack.\nI looked at the skeleton, and thought of the missing man, it looked like I had found him, it looked like he had also stepped on the trapdoor. \nFrom the size of the dog, it could have triggered the trapdoor as well. Getting trapped down here, with the dead body, which it used for food to stay alive. Plus, any rats or mice that it could catch. \n\nAfter eating, I set out to explore the third passageway. \nThis time I must find a way of getting out of the black hole I had found myself in. \nThe third passageway, was clear, and I found a staircase, it lead up to an unbroken ceiling.\nI carefully climbed up, near the top was a candle holder, it looked odd, it was the only one I had seen. \nI thought back to all the mystery programs I had watched while growing up. Was the candle holder the release switch to get out of here. \nI took a deep breath and gripping the candle holder firmly, I pulled it hard, with a grating noise, the candle holder pulled down. \nAbove me a slab of stone swung down away from me. I could smell fresh air. I was out, as I climbed up the stairs and into one of the rooms, the stone slab, swung closed. I carefully left the castle, still holding my blood-stained sword. \nOutside, there was a man dressed in tweed, he looked at me and said, “Where did you come from? and what’s that bloody sword?”\nI told him about the skeleton in the catacombs. He took a mobile phone and phoned a number, he spoke quickly. Then he phoned the police.\n\nWithin an hour, there were people everywhere, including a mountain rescue team. The police took the sword away and wrapped it in an evidence bag.\nI showed them the trapdoor, one of the team, tied a rope around himself and with others holding the rope, walked forward and triggered the trapdoor. \nAs the trapdoor swung down, the men slowly let out the rope, and lowered him into the catacombs.\nAfter a quick search, they found the trigger for the trapdoor, and jammed it open, then they lowered a ladder down into the hole.\nI was asked if I would show them the way out of the catacombs. so, I climbed back into the hole that I had so recently escaped from.\nFollowing the marks that I had made, I took them to the staircase, climbed it and pulled the candle holder, the stone slab swung down and we climbed out from the catacombs. \nThe police retrieved the skeleton from the catacomb, and took it to the mortuary. \n\n\n\nThe man in the tweed suit was still there, he approached me and said, “My name is lord Achnacarry, this castle has been in my family for generations, and I didn’t know about the trapdoor and staircase, thank you for finding the body.”\nI was asked to stay in the area, while the police made inquiries, the man in tweed, Lord Achnacarry, please call me Charlie, invited me to stay with his family. \n\nAfter about a week, the police announced that the skeleton was that of the missing man, it looked like he had triggered the trapdoor, fallen and broken his leg and starved to death in the darkness of the catacombs.\nI shivered, thinking that was an awful way to die, alone and in the dark, with nobody knowing where he was, God alone knows how long he lay there in the cold and dark. \n\nThe next day as I was packing to make the journey back to Fort William, and back to my dreary job in IT, in an office block in Streatham, SW London, a young woman came to the house. \nHer name was Morag McCrae, she was the sister of the missing man, Stuart James McCrae, she thanked me for finding her brother and bringing him home. \nAs we sat talking, I looked at her, sitting with a mug of tea in her hands, her face glowing from the fresh air, and I thought, “why do I have to live in London.?” \nI did return to London, sold my flat, resigned from my job and within a month was living in Fort William. \nWhen I returned to Scotland, Charlie gave me a present to hang over the fireplace in my new home, the sword that I had found in the catacombs. \nThat was two years ago, since then I have brought a house, set up my own IT company, and settled down with a beautiful Scottish girl, called Morag McCrae. \nNext year we will be getting married, Morag is still trying to get me to wear a kilt. No chance, as I keep telling her, “I don’t have the legs for a kilt.”\nOne thing is certain, our first son is going to be called Stuart, after Morag’s late brother. \nI have since returned to the Commando memorial at Spean Bridge and left flowers in memory of my Grand Father. \nOur son’s middle name will be Albert after my Grand Father, the greatest, bravest man I had the honour of knowing. \n\nThe End.\nCopyright 2017. \n\nPhil Wildish. \n" ]	[ 1, 1, 1 ]	[ "1503540716", "1503557231", "1503684017" ]
	[WP] You found a real world "Mug of Many Things." Whenever you drink from it, what liquid you needed most was in it. Coffee for that boost in being awake, water for the parched, even a little liquor for killing cowardice. Today you taste something truly unexpected.	374	[ "\nOff-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 old man came around to this bar every day for a few months. He’d sit in the corner lookin’ all frail with sunken eyes and missin’ teeth, holdin’ onto that peculiar mug of his with his right hand and spinning some kind of coin on the table with his left. He was always lookin’ down at that mug – mutterin’ quiet gibberish. He never bothered nobody, and seemed harmless enough, so we all just let him be.\n\nWell, one day my curiosity got the better of me, and it was a slow day, so I walked over to his little dark corner and said to him, “hey, old man, what’s that coin I always see you spinnin’?” He just kept on mutterin’ to himself for a second or two and then stopped. He raised his head up and said, “c’mon now closer here, son, and I’ll tell ya all about this here chip.”\n\n“Oh, a chip, I know all about chips.” I sat down across from him.\n\nHe peered at me with his milky eyes, like he was studyin’ me. “Do ya, son? You know all about being on the wagon just to fall right off?”\n\n“Well, no sir, I ain’t ever had a drinkin’ problem but my daddy sure as hell did and he made damn sure if he weren’t havin’ a good time in life then nobody was. But that piece of shit left me and my momma when I was about thirteen, I s’pose. Best thing he ever did. My momma says I look like him when he was my age but shit if I know. Don’t make a damn to me.” The old man muttered some gibberish and looked back down at that mug.\n\n“Ya know, old man, I ain’t nearly as curious about that chip as I am that mug.”\n\n“Why’s that?” he asked.\n\n“’Cause you lookin’ at it like you tryin’ to blame it,” I said to him. He let out a few high pitched geezer chuckles and said: “That is the question though, ain’t it? Who or what done it? Who or what done fucked up: me or the mug?”\n\nI sat there and had a think on it and said to him, “if you askin’ me, then you the one that fucked up.” The geezer started back mutterin’ gibberish for another second or two while looking down at that mug. I lifted my head up to get a gander at it.\n\n“Old man, I see you holdin’ onto that mug every day, all day, and I ain’t ever seen you fill it up with anything or take a sip.” The old man looked up, tears runnin’ down his cheek, and he said to me, “son, I didn’t know what I truly needed until I started comin’ here, and what I needed this cup can’t give me.” The old man drops the chip on the floor and takes a sip from the mug. “But it can give me what I need now.”\n\nThe old man passed away right there before my eyes. Now, I ain’t much of a drinker, though I work this here bar, but it’d seem wrong if I didn’t down one for that old man using that old mug he loved so much. Here's to the old man. May he rest in peace.", "I picked up my mug, thirsty from work. I had been carrying multitudes of packages in the hot summer heat for customers in various places. My water bottle was empty by the time I was halfway done, and I couldn't bring my mug for fear it would break. I decided that once it got home I would immediately drink from my mug. I looked in the mug; currently empty. Hoping for a cold drink, I took a swig in the cup for a taste.\nI spit out a mouthful of hydrogen peroxide.\nMy mouth was burning, and I had even swallowed a tiny bit. I ran to my sink and cupped water into my mouth. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and after getting the disgusting taste of peroxide out of my mouth, I checked to see what I had received. \nThe text message had read, \"Ruin your life as much as possible. You will save the world doing that.\"\nI was at first confused, thinking it was a prank. But when the lights suddenly went out and I someone shooting, I took action. First I texted my girlfriend of six years and told her that we were breaking up, adding in that I was cheating on her. Next I texted my parents who had loved me unconditionally that I never loved them back. My boss who was also a close friend of mine got a message saying that I was quitting and that I hoped he would die. I looked at my dog, opened my door, and kicked him into the street. I took a bottle from the refrigerator and smashed it on my head. Logging on to my computer, I looked up drug deals and child pornography, and opened up my history bar. 'Just two more things,' I thought, dialing the police to prank call them. They had obviously been angry at me, and with them being nearby, they could easily catch me in my tracks. Finally, I wrote something on my phone, took a swig of the hydrogen peroxide, and waited for the poison to take me away.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\nThe police had found the dead body of Jacob Sterlington in his home on 9289 Maple Street. There was a mug of hydrogen peroxide in his hands, as well as his phone. The hydrogen peroxide was confirmed to be the reason he died. Police say that the death had been ruled a suicide, as there were no traces of anyone else coming in that day. His phone had a message, written as an unsent text.\n\"I love my girlfriend Marisa with all my heart, and I was preparing to marry her. My parents are the best people, and I return all their feelings.\n My boss is my closest friend, as well as the best I could've asked for.\n Hershey, my dog, is amazing, and I wouldn't have hurt him if my life depended on it.\n Hurting myself is something I would never do.\n Drugs are never okay, and child pornography is the worst thing to own or produce.\n Prank calling the police is horrible, as they do so much for us.\n Everything I did today was a lie. I am speaking from the bottom of my heart.\"\nThe man had received a text today about saving the word by ruining his life. There was obvious gunfire and a nationwide power outage, so the police can only assume it was correct. Mr. Sterlington has received proper burial and is known as a hero among many. Rest in peace, Jacob Sterlington.", "Groggy. Eyes crustily sealed shut. A throbbing in his temples. \n\nCoffee. \n\nRolling out of bed, his feet firmly planted on the cold tile floor. The sun failed to shine through his open windows, instead taking refuge behind the pendulous clouds that were sure to bring afternoon showers. Summer had been more humid than usual this year. His legs stretched mightily, and his arms soon followed. What roast would he partake in this morning? Perhaps an espresso, or latte. The mug always seemed to know the best way to start the day. \n\nButtoning up his night shirt and adjusting the waistband on his pajama pants, the man took a deep breath and released the air through his nose. Relaxation. Hopefully the paperboy wasn’t late today with his copy of The Times. A robust breakfast would accompany the paper. Eggs. Toast with butter. Bacon. \n\nSalivating. Wipes away the dust in his eyes. Stands and yawns. \n\nAs he did every early morning, he made his way to the bathroom. It took the spigot a moment for the water to reach the chilled temperature he was accustomed to. He gave himself a mighty splash to shock the senses. The towel next to the sink was soft and beige, and he was careful to dry each section of his face individually. \n\nMaking his way to the kitchen, he turned on the stove and set the burner to a low temperature. He enjoyed buttered toast the way you’d make a grilled cheese, only without the cheese. Knowing it would take a few minutes to heat up, he decided to check for the paper. Pulling the curtain aside from one of the windows that flanked his front door, he could see that it still hadn’t arrived. \n\nLate again. How frustrating. He’d had to have a talk with that paperboy about promptness. \n\nDeciding to go back to the kitchen, he stopped in front of the hallway mirror. More gray hairs. He’d lost track of how many had sprouted up in the last few years. Before retirement he’d taken such pride in his artificially blackened, well-maintained hair; a cut that you could set your watch to. Businessmen, he reasoned, always respected a man who oozed virility. Nowadays, in his empty house, he scarcely felt the need to impress strangers. It was a good feeling after many years of expressing the opposite to have that kind of freedom. \n\nReaching into his breadbox, he pulled two slices apart. The refrigerator light illuminated the floor and counters as it seemingly had gotten a tad darker outside. His butter tray was almost empty, and he knew he’d have to refill it. Taking a knife from the block, he carefully and slowly spread the salted butter on each piece, making sure that they had the perfect amount and were covered on both sides. He dropped them onto the pan to give them a quick browning. He swallowed, and could tell that he was parched. His morning cup of coffee would do the trick. \n\nIt was a quaint gift, he thought to himself. His wife who had passed away nearly a decade prior bought it for him on one of her business trips to Europe. A “Cup of Plenty” she was told it was, and that the bearer would never go thirsty while they had it. It would always fill with whatever they desired to drink at the time. He recalled the nights they’d spend swapping the cup back and forth- her drinking the chardonnay she loved and him with his bold and tannic Cabernet blends. They’d giggle drunkenly and have dare the other to try some new and exciting brew or beverage. Those nights, he remembered, were always lovely. He missed her. Pulling the cup from the cupboard he always kept it in, he thought deeply for a moment about what he’d like. \n\nCappuccino, light foam. Two pumps of espresso. Cinnamon. \n\nRaising the mug to his lips, he expected to be greeted by the fluffiness of the foam, just as he had hundreds of mornings before. He was perplexed when he felt nothing. Glancing down, it was the same cup he’d used for many, many years. Turning it upside down, no liquid spilled on to the floor. Was this it? Was the mug’s magic broken? Why wouldn’t anything come out?\n\nJust then, he felt a very, very unfamiliar tenseness in his chest, as if his heart was being squeezed by the hands of fate itself. \n\nDizzy. Can’t stand. Falling. \n\nStill so thirsty. \n", "Another day, another visit to the good ol' bar. \n \nHey, life wasn't always fun, and sometimes people just needed to forget, right?\nCosmo sighed, as he ordered a drink and sat down on the chair in front of his favorite table, the one in the very back by the corner. Sometimes, he just felt the urge to drink alone. \n\nHe was a businessman of the international variety. You know, the type that travels all over the world and is never home. As a result, he'd come home this time to an empty house and angry letter from his wife, saying she was done. Wives really were wonderful, weren't they? What happened to the all the romance and sweetness before they were married? Wait, was she even the sweet type to begin with? \n\nHe chugged down the beer that he'd ordered, before taking out his secret, precious treasure. Ah, yes. A wonderful chalice of dreams, a \"mug of many things,\" that would provide whatever drink he needed the most. As he prepared to pour some out, his peace was suddenly disturbed by a newcomer.\n\n\"You look worn, bro.\"\n\nIt was a friendly-looking, short-statured, thin bearded man. His voice was somewhat high-pitched voice, and he gave off a really strange yet friendly impression. He wore large, black sunglasses, and he had a wry smile as he plopped down on the chair across from Cosmo.\n\n\"I'm Chad. Wanna talk about it?\"\n\nSomehow, although Chad looked friendly, Cosmo still felt somewhat uncomfortable. Deciding to ignore him for the moment, Cosmo poured out the liquid and took a swig.\n\nThis. This was definitely familiar. That burning sensation... that feeling... he'd tasted it once before in Shanghai, when an acquaintance had poured him some as a prank. This... three-penis wine! The ultimate aphrodisiac alcohol, made from the xxxs of three different animals! He spit it out in shock. This was bad. His wife was nowhere to be found, and that could only mean... right? No, no way! He didn't swing that way!\n\n\"You know what... I think I have to go.\"\n\nHe ignored Chad's somewhat disappointed look and ran away from the bar as fast as he could after paying, and ran home. In hindsight, he could have probably just called a taxi. Much to his surprise, the lights were on, and he was greeted... by Chad!\n\n\"Eeeeeek! Why are you here!\" he screamed. \"I'm straight, straight! Help, police, it's a stalker!\"\n\n\"Pffft, stupid as always. You really didn't recognize me.\"\n\n\"Chad\" pulled off the beard and tossed away the sunglasses. Suddenly, Cosmo found himself staring at his wife, who was holding her sides in pain while laughing at him. \n\n\"I knew you'd go to that bar. So I thought I'd prank you a bit. I can't believe you actually ran all the way home, though. That was too funny!\"\n\nYep, this was definitely his wife. Not an ounce of sweetness to be found. He sighed in relief. So she hadn't hated him, after all! He took out the \"mug of many things,\" and gave it a little kiss. \n\n\"I'm sorry for doubting you! I knew you'd never let me down!\" \n\nAnd felt a sudden chill through his entire body, as his wife glared at him. \n\n\"You're kissing a cup before you kiss me? You're in for it!\"\n\nThey say the whole neighborhood heard his screams that night. \n\n", "Until about a week ago, I would have told you that having a Mug of Many Things is the best thing that can happen to you. You always have the liquid you need, whenever you need it, and as much as you need. It doesn’t really let you dump anything out, usually, but when you never have to worry about having a drink again, that isn’t something that worries you. There also isn’t much control, though you can flavor what you get a little bit. It mostly just gives you what you need, and as much of it as you need. Simple, effective, and surprisingly there’s no catch. Best part is, almost no one would ever believe one of these could even exist, let alone that you have one, so you also don’t have to worry about people trying to steal it. \n \nHere’s the thing. Anyone, or anything, that knows you do in fact have a “Mug of Many Things” will be out to get it, and you won’t matter much to them. So, let me tell the story of a week ago, and why I curse this mug daily now, even though it’s the only thing keeping me sane. This isn’t going to be a recommendation you pick one of these up. It’s a warning, telling you to stay away, before it ruins your life. \n \nThe morning of one week ago, I woke up to my alarm like usual. The sun was just peeking over the horizon as I started getting ready for work, sipping the allowance of coffee the Mug always provided. It was just enough to get me going, as usual, and I smiled as I stepped into the shower. Everything seemed normal and happy. However, though I hadn’t noticed it at the time, the birds had stopped chirping. \n \nAs I stepped out of the shower, I started getting dressed. Pulling my shirt on over my head, I paused. There had been a barely noticeable creak as my front door moved. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, I suppose, but that creak always set me on edge. This was worse, because I knew it should have been locked and unable to move. Which means someone had just opened my front door. Grabbing a decorative glass bottle sitting on the windowsill, I cracked the door slightly. I had to bite my tongue not to gasp out loud. \n \nStanding in the hallway was a man. He was dressed in dark grey jeans, a black shirt, and a black leather jacket. His features were appealing and his hair perfectly styled. It was his eyes that scared me. They were glowing red. A dark, angry red that made me think of blood, and murder. It gave me the shivers, and I shook all over. Eyes shouldn’t glow like that. Then he smiled, and his teeth nearly made me should. He had fangs, long, sharp ones that screamed out against anything natural. \n \nThe stranger laughed and I shivered at the sinister feeling the sound had. \n \n“I can hear your heart pumping. Just give me the Mug, and I’ll probably let you live. Don’t make me kill you, it’s always messy and distasteful.” \n \nMy heart skipped a beat. First of all, he could hear my heartbeat? I knew that certain animals could probably do that but there was no way some cosplaying home invader could. He must have just noticed me cracking the door, and been trying to freak me out. Second, how the fuck did he know about the Mug? I’d never told anyone, and I’d been really careful to act like I’d been filling it occasionally at the office to avoid suspicion. My fist tightened around the bottle as I considered opening the door and throwing it at him. \n \nThe stranger’s smile widened into a predator’s grin. “Oh, please, make this fun. While killing you would be messy, you making a fight of it would be at the very least amusing.” \n \nI stopped cold just as I’d been about to open the door. It simply wasn’t possible for him to hear me… Was it? Finally, I narrowed my eyes and ground my teeth together. No one invaded my home, scared the shit out of me, and got to make demands of me. Not before I damn well tried to do something about it. Swinging the door wide, I threw the glass bottle at the stranger. Moving faster than his hand should have been able to, he caught it. I stared, and then slammed the door shut again. \n \nLeaning against the other side of the door, I looked around desperately. Finally, I reached out and grabbed the mug. Maybe whatever was in it would give me an idea. I tipped it back, and then stared at in shock. There was nothing in it. That didn’t happen. It always contained something, even if it was just water. \n \nI struggled to figure out what to do, when suddenly the door slammed open and I was launched across the room. Slamming into the sink, I turned to face the stranger. Standing there with a sardonic grin on his face, he held out his hand, like he knew I had nowhere to go. I stared at the mug as it slowly filled with a clear liquid. I looked up at him, and then back at the cup. Sipping it, I wrinkled my eyebrows. It was just water. \n \nLooking up at the stranger, I finally realized why his look was so familiar, and yet made me want to cringe. He looked like, well, a vampire. Looking down at the water, I had a sinking feeling. Deciding to try something that had never worked before, I sloshed the contents of the Mug directly onto him. With a scream, he staggered backward as the water evaporated off of him in a cloud of steam, leaving behind burn marks in it’s wake. Narrowing his eyes, he lunged at me. \n \n“I’ll get you for that, human.” \n \nIgnoring for the moment my extreme confusion, I tried to hit him with the Mug. Dodging my motion fluidly he grabbed onto my throat, starting to choke me. I began gasping for air, my exertion leaving me out of breath even before my supply of air had been cut off. Staggering backwards, I kicked outwards and hit him between the legs.It didn’t affect him the way I thought it would, but it did knock him off balance for a second. Lunging forwards, I did the first thing that came to mind. I bit him in the neck. \n \nBitter, sticky, wrong blood filled my mouth, but I clung on, forcing me to swallow. Nearly puking, I bit down tighter, trying to sever something. The stranger was yelling and trying to swat me off, but I think I’d surprised him. Finally I got slammed into the wall and had to let go to breath. I fell to the floor gasping, clutching the Mug in both hands. The stranger stumbled away, gurgling, and then my front door slams open. Finally, my house is quiet. \n \nStanding up, I staggered out into the hallway. Shutting the front door, I locked it, though the gesture felt futile. Finding my way into the living room, I sat down, exhausted and sore. I spit on the carpet, trying to clean my mouth of that awful taste. Finally, I had to try and come to terms with what had happened. I thought vampires weren’t real, but then again, I owned a Mug of Many Things. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Shuddering, I lay back and closed my eyes. \n \nA few hours later, I came to, my head pounding. I was burning up, and I stumbled as I tried to stand up. Crawling to the bathroom, I puked up everything in my stomach and then lay there moaning. My phone, cracked, lay on the floor of the bathroom. I had three missed calls from work. Shaking my head, I shoved it aside weakly. I wasn’t in any condition to talk to people. Suddenly the clouds outside parted and the room was bathed with sunshine. It felt too warm, and the light pierced my eyes like the worst hangover you can imagine. \n \nI stayed that way for the next few days. Somewhere in there I managed to call in to work, and I tried to eat. Nothing would stay down, and I kept puking it up. The mug I was paying so dearly for stayed next to me, and I kept drinking out of it. It was just water, nothing else was ever in it. I didn’t know what to think about that, but I kept drinking it. Then, two days ago, it happened. I felt a little better, though sunlight still hurt my eyes and everything sounded… wrong. Too sharp and clear, it made my ears hurt. I went to make breakfast, but I wasn’t hungry for anything in my kitchen. In fact, the thought of food made me ill, so I ignored it for now. Leaning up against the kitchen counter, I pondered my predicament, and wondered why my assailant hadn’t returned while I’d been incapacitated. As I mused I took a drink out of the Mug, and froze. \n \nIt was blood. And it tasted like the best drink I’d ever had.\n", "I've had this mug for a few years now. My dad, God rest his soul, passed on. This mug was one of the few things he bequeathed to me. It was strange. I never needed to fill it up. You could leave it perfectly empty, and yet when you pressed it to your lips, you got something. I've had water, coffee, orange juice, alcohol, and once even melted chocolate. However, I was never prepared for what happened on July 17th of this year.\n\nIt was another normal day. I ate breakfast and went off to work. I brought the mug with me, thinking I could skip the long rush of drive-through coffee chains and just get to work. I had just arrived at the government office I worked at when, too eager, I took a sip from the mug, expecting hot, fresh, rich coffee. What I got was the most vile liquid that has ever disgraced my taste buds. It felt like I was drinking molten sewage covered in vomit. The mug fell from my hands as I leaned over some bushes and retched. That was when I heard the explosion behind me. The office's lower floors were levelled, and the upper floors crumbled and collapsed. I bolted from the collapsing building into safety across the street. \n\nWe were in a turbulent political state at the time. There was a prominent rebellion growing and taking form. This was their latest act of subversion. Bombing a government office. Had I not drank that vile liquid, I would have been liquefied myself. Shaking my head in disbelief, I wandered away, lamenting that the mug that saved my life was now lost in the rubble. \n\nA few days later, I opened the cupboard to get a coffee mug, and to my surprise my Mug of Plenty was there. A Post-It note was attached to it. In handwriting I couldn't place, the note read:\n\n\"I'm not finished with you yet. Take the mug. Keep living. There is more work to be done.\"", "Ah, Lady Grey Tea. I usually had Earl Grey, but with the wind picking up, this was the perfect substitute. I sighed happily, swishing the last drops of tea around in the mug before draining them. After carefully attaching the mug to my belt, I stood and stretched. There was work to be done...\n\nThe wreck had happened two weeks ago. I'd managed to crash the plane on a fairly large island, but even so, I doubted anyone was coming for me. My radio equipment was in bad shape before the wreck, but now, it was done for. I'd been able to salvage quite a lot of material - some of it supplies I'd been carrying, some of it parts of the aircraft itself - and built myself a lovely vacation home. If you can call a fiberglass and sheet metal hut dug into a hillside a vacation home, anyway. Oh well. It is what it is.\n\nTwo hours of sorting junk later, I was getting tired. I pulled out the mug and held it in my hand, wondering what new liquid it would bring me. Tomato soup? Hearty beef broth? Chocolate milk? Yesterday, I'd gotten some fancy sparkling beverage. The contents seemed to swirl out of nowhere, slowly filling the mug. Hey! Gatorade! I guess I was sweating more than I thought. I chugged the cool beverage, then once again hooked the mug on my belt.\n\nMy mug saved my life, I can tell you that. I have no idea how, but it can summon any sort of liquid, and it can sense exactly what I need. Feeling tired? Some strong coffee. Thirsty? Cool, clear water. Have some time to kill? A lovely wine to compliment the sunset. Granted, I'd tried to focus on a nice steak, or even one of those mug-brownie things, but it seemed like it could only do liquids. Oh, well. For now, it was keeping me alive, and I wasn't going to complain. Much.\n\nI went back to sorting junk. A box full of nails; handy, as long as I could keep them from rusting. And could find a hammer. A box full of... broken glass? Hmm. A box full of - MREs! Hurrah, solid food! I almost danced for joy. Then I did dance for joy - who would see me? One refreshing mac-and-cheese later, I started in on unpacking the other boxes. Clothes - too small. A tool chest! Hammer, and... oh. Saw, drill, and a bunch of other electrical stuff. Not very useful if you don't happen to have a magic outlet around.\n\nThat evening, I enjoyed a lovely broth dip with some dried toast.\n\nThe next morning, after my tea - Chai, traditionally prepared - I opened the next box to find a generator! A water-powered generator, at that! Except... I didn't have any running water. And the generator specifically called out salt water as being a big no no. Well, blast. Maybe I could build some sort of platform up the hill, purify water with sunlight and... well, I could get something, anyway. A few minutes to charge tools, maybe. Or, who knows, maybe there was another generator that ran on salt water, and I'd only have to cart thousands of gallons of salt water up a hill, and could skip the purification step. Yay.\n\nAs I pondered the generator, I reached for my mug, only to find it sloshing liquid out already. I took a sip. Water? I wasn't really in the mood. Whiskey, maybe. Or even coffee. But not water. I dumped it out, and went back to studying the generator - only to find it overflowing on my hand a few seconds later. What the heck? It never did that before! I stared at it as the water moved from dribbling over the side to sloshing heartily. It really seemed to think I needed... water! Running water! Of course! Excitedly, I set the mug down, and quickly put the generator together. Soon, it was complete. I grabbed the mug - now a hand-held fountain - and set it upside down over the generator's input pipe. It filled for a second, then began moving slowly, as the light on top flashed green! It worked! I had power!\n\nBy nightfall, I had built a seal for the top of the mug, pressing it against a rubber ring, right into the pipe. By now, it was gushing out a geyser; I had to add a big clamp to keep it from shooting off into the night! The generator read 85% capacity; I plugged in a string of lights, the battery chargers, and wonder of wonders, my cell phone. Sure, it wouldn't get a signal, but at least now I could play games, right?\n\nAnd tomorrow, I can start working on getting the radio working... or maybe that air conditioner I saw a few minutes ago.", "You take a sip from your mug, watching your hands. Even as the sweet water slids down your throat, you watch the kidney spots and creases fade and smooth out. The arthritic pain eases, and your joints are free again. You smile an unwrinkled smile and apply color to your lips.\n\nThere comes a knock on your bed chamber door. \"Enter.\"\n\n\"My lady,\" a knight enters and bows. He starts for a moment, taking in your youthful face, but that is not why he hesitates to speak.\n\n\"Do you have news, Sir....?\" His face is unfamiliar to you. So many knights came and went through the years, you don't bother keeping track anymore. \n\n\"Sir Wendell, my lady. I fought alongside your husband,\" he replies.\n\n\"Ah, then he is home. Please send him to me at his earliest convenience. I have matters of importance to discuss with him,\" you say, and wave him to go away.\n\n\"He is not well, my lady. He was wounded in our last battle and requests your presence immediately. He is not well.\"\n\nIt is as if a frigid hand clasps your heart, willing it to freeze and beat no more. You clutch your mug to your chest, and it warms to try to chase the ice in your chest away. The only one who has ever returned your love is waiting for you.\n\nYou hastily get up, knocking your vanity chair over. Your feet must have feathers for how quickly they fly down the stone, spiral stairs. Were the halls always so long and streaching? Were the servants' stares always so heavy and piercing?\n\nYou fling open the door to the doctor's chamber and immediately see your beloved lying on a bed. The sheets are stained with the blood that has seeped through his bandages. Your knees sink you down beside him. He is not breathing.\n\n\"NO!\" you cry. You take your mug and poor liquid into his unmoving lips. His throat does not swallow the sweet water of life, so you poor it onto his bandages too. Perhaps it will sink into his wounds. Anything to get the fluid into his body. Anything to bring him back.\n\nThe doctor emerges from the corner he had been watching from. \"My lady, he is gone. He was alive when they arrived at the castle, but passed away upon entering my chambers. I am very sorry that there was nothing I could do.\"\n\nThe mug had never failed you before. It had fed you soup when you were just a starving street girl. It had cured you from consumption with bitter medicine. It had kept you young and beautiful all these years with the sweet water of the fountain of youth. But it is not bringing your beloved back. In this moment, you cannot live without him.\n\nYou tears drop into the mug, and when you look inside, the liquid is something you have never seen before. It is as black as an inky, moonless night and has a sheen of emerald green. You do not question this. The mug has always provided you with what you need.\n\nYou have never drank a sweeter poison.", "I still don't precisely know whether I won't or even can't get rid of that strange mug gifted to me by a stranger many a year ago. Whether it was a psychosomatic dependency or an actual addictive quality I may never truly understand but that cup has theoretically saved my life countless times now.\n\nIn outer appearance it's merely a Thermos cup, red metal with a black plastic base, cover and lid. Well, I say \"Lid\" but the truth is that it cannot be opened. Even the moment when I received it I tried to open it to fill it but it simply didn't open but it still had contents inside. And even \"Contents\" would be a loose truth as the cup quite literally had every possible liquid in the world to drink and at the precise moment I needed it.\n\nEarly morning and struggling to wake up? Coffee of variable kinds, from jet black to espresso to latte to mocha. Feeling thirsty? Ice-cold water or even milk. Going into a meeting with my bosses? Liquor just strong enough to give me the extra kick of courage I needed without becoming completely drunk.\n\nAnd it only worked for me. I've offered the mug to others in order to see what would happen and they've only been able to drink coffee from the mug. At first I thought it was just me... until the other day.\n\nIt was relatively normal walking to work when the bizarre, sweet taste hit my lips. It was almost like lemon but without the sharp bitter sourness. There was also some orange, some mandarin and a hint of mango plus the sweetness of honey. At first I thought of how strange it was... until a sudden pain began to riddle through my body. I managed to run into the skyscraper where I worked, ignoring the security guard and secretary at the front desk to enter the bathroom and lock myself in a stall, hoping that maybe I'll vomit what I just drank up.\n\nThere was no such luck as pain riddled through my body. I couldn't even scream as my body began to break itself apart. The plates of my back shattered as my spinal cord was stretched outward like a rack. My ribs were pulled apart as my lungs felt like they were being filled like water balloons. I could feel every tooth explode within my mouth as blood poured down my throat and onto the toilet I was crouching onward.\n\nAnd then there was pure black, but not due to myself fainting. No, the lights began to flicker and died soon after with the sound of crashing all around. I could almost make out the sound of screaming somewhere else.\n\nAnd yet, I felt perfectly fine a few moments later. No... I was better than fine. I felt fantastic. As I stood, easily pushing debris and rubble away from on top of me, I didn't feel even the slightest amount of resistance despite having tonnes of concrete and steel atop of myself.\n\nWhen I got out I heard sirens and the sounds of distressed people all around before looking around. The skyscraper had collapsed completely, somehow destroyed. At the time I considered that maybe it was a terrorist attack or some sort of accident. Later on the news I saw what had caused so much destruction - a chunk of rock easily 12 metres in height, 14 and 13 across, blasted into the air by a volcano a couple of states directily into the building.\n\nEven now, looking at the mug on the table I'm still considering precisely what it had produced. I mean... there was an enormous explosion when it hit the earth. I tanked it. That boulder is estimated to have weight about 90 tons and it only shattered the second it hit me.\n\nAnd of course it did, as now I looked like a God. I was now about seven feet tall, an office worker known to be just under the scale of \"Obese\" transformed into an Adonis that would make pro-bodybuilders seem lithe in frame. It didn't do me any favors as it meant that none of my clothing could even think of fitting onto my frame any longer. It was a wonder that the underwear I was wearing at the time survived.\n\nEven now I was considering my options. It was absolutely definite that I no longer had a job as it was basically destroyed and as to my current issue there was an absolute certainty that people would notice that I wasn't what would be considered \"Normal\" or \"Human.\"\n\nFor the last few hours I was testing out what had become of my body. Well, yes, I most definitely could lift any of the furniture in my apartment with ease including my wardrobe, sofa and bed frame on one hand at the same time. But I also poured boiling hot water straight from the kettle down onto my stomach, steam rising from my gut. Hell, even the searing-hot metal sat comfortably in my hand. And I had destroyed every form of cutlery in my kitchen as I had tried to cut myself, either riding it along the skin of my arms or while attempting to shave the curled beard that had developed onto my face as well.\n\nAnd this wasn't even the other real concern I had to now concern myself with. Whatever I was now, I was definitely not human but super-human... and therefore had other biological issues. As soon as the sensation of hunger or thirst began to set in I tried to ease it only to discover that the entirety of the contents of my pantry, cupboards, fridge and freezer could no longer satisfy me even as I devoured the lot in an hour. It's been four hours now since I ran out of food and the entire time I had the head of my shower within my mouth and gulping down all the water that had come out with my throat only feeling dryer with each passing moment.\n\nI soon collapsed, the water pouring over my shining form, releasing what could be described as a glistening shine upon its touch as the shower soaked me. Even if the situation was beyond my comprehension, this moment was even moreso. I felt, I was so much more powerful but I felt so weak.\n\nI turned off the shower, soon dragging my feet out into the combined kitchen-living room when I saw it on the counter. The mug attracted me, almost like heroin to an addict. I even felt drawn to it, my colossal hand raising up to grab it before pulling away as I stared at it.\n\n'Would you be able to continue to fulfill my needs?' I asked the mug rhetorically. 'Even like this?'\n\n'That mug will provide you everything you need, as was the case when you first received it,' a voice called from nowhere in particular. 'Have you even tried to drink anything from it since it saved your life?'\n\n'Who is that?' I demanded. 'Show yourself!'\n\n'Don't consider me a threat,' he said as the sound now had a definitive source, a corner of my apartment that had somehow become impossibly dark before light returned to it. 'Why... I should be rather scared of you, Hank.'\n\n'Who are you?' I asked the being before me. 'And how did you get in here?'\n\n'I think you'd rather be asking, \"What are you\", and to that I can answer that I am the same as you,' the man said. 'I'm a god. To be specific, my name is Loki. Pleased to meet you.'\n\n---\n\nChapter 2 coming soon", "Frank groaned looking over his finances.\n\n\"Another 700 deficit this month dear\"\n\nFrom the kitchen came the reply \"we ought to cancel these Google mug and food box subscriptions then\"\n\nGoogle had been a great deal as a food supplier once they got in the business but as time went on Frank began to wonder if these price increases were truly warranted\n\n\"The grocery stores really have lowered their prices to compete\" Jim added \"we could just go back to grocery runs\"\n\nFrank sighed and looked into his mug as it swirled in color with a gentle hum. Sometimes he wondered whether many of their conveniences were affordable. The teleporter ran the electric bill up while gas would be so cheap. Sometimes he wondered just how much he could do without.\n\n\"I don't know how I could part with this mug though\" said Frank \"I can't find a better cup of coffee on this side of the state and besides, it's the insurance that is really eating our lunch\" \n\nHowever after another sip he began coughing and spitting, nearly spilling the cup. \n\n\"Lighter fluid?\" ", "The alley warped as I tried to walk in a straight line. I half-leaned, half-fell against the brick wall, my heart pounding. I heard the back door to restaurant open, its rusty hinges screaming into the night.\n\n“Shit!” I heard the sound of a garbage bag hitting the pavement as Frank surveyed the scene. “Bill? Are you okay? Who the fuck is lying on the ground?”\n\nI took a deep breath and tried to find some words, but none came. I managed to turn back towards Frank and the light from the open door. He jogged up to me, looking around wildly.\n\n“Hey, what happened?” Frank put his hands on my shoulders and bent over to look at my face. I was curling in on myself, my stomach turning.\n\n“That guy,” I rasped, trying to steady my breathing. I lifted a shaky finger at the prone figure, but didn’t look up. “Jumped me. Fucking bit me!”\n\n“Well, calm down. It looks like you won!” Frank flashed a half-hearted smile and shrugged his shoulders. “We can close up early and take you to the hospital. Did you lay his ass out or what?”\n\nI inhaled again, determined to drive away the shivering that was attempting to take over. “Well, I had that grease pot in my hands when he attacked.”\n\n“Oh.” Frank looked back, just now noticing the huge, filthy oil container we used to carry old grease to the recycle container. It was still steaming, and so was my attacker. “He’s definitely going to need an ambulance then. You get any on you?”\n\n“Just a little,” I said, raising my forearm. There was a patch of small blisters popping up where I’d received a little splashback from hurling the molten fry grease on that asshole.\n\nHe grimaced. “Well, could have been worse. Maybe the district manager will let us off for having a medical since it happened during an assault.”\n\nI could tell he was trying to make a joke, but it fell flat. It seemed like managers spent twenty percent of the day actually working, and the rest fretting over whether or not a workplace accident would occur and what would happen to them if it did. When the zombie apocalypse rolls around they’re all going to have heart attacks, I thought.\n\nThe rest of the night was a blur. I narrowly avoided getting hauled to the hospital, though I did have to sit through a rather lengthy police interview. The guy I had assaulted had come to and run off while we were waiting on the cops, so at least I hadn’t murdered anyone. At least not yet. I mean, dude couldn’t be doing real well after taking a boiling hot grease bath.\n\nThat damn bite, though. It was right on my shoulder, and it was burning like a son-of-a-bitch. As soon as I got home I poured alcohol into it and then poured some alcohol into me. Before I passed out, I poured myself a cup of water and placed it on my nightstand, keeping it ready for my morning struggles.\n\nI woke up too early. It was still dark outside, and I was covered in a cold sweat. It felt like… like there was something in my room. Not someone, something. I tried to still my breathing so I could listen for sounds, but I couldn’t. My heart was beating against my ribcage like a caged animal.\n\nAnd I was thirsty. So thirsty. \n\nI took a long pull of the water from my mug, tried to swallow, then spit it out. My throat almsot sealed shut, keeping it out. My stomach roiled against it. Cursing, I stumbled to the kitchen. Throwing open the fridge, I tried the OJ, milk, and pineapple juice (which was ridiculous, I’d been saving that for rum). All bad.\n\nI felt weak, all of my options gone. What the hell was wrong with me? That bum must have given me something, some kind of flu. I stumbled into the living room to grab the phone when something caught my eye.\n\nMy father’s trophy case glinted in the secondhand light from the kitchen. Various artifacts rested there, horns, knifes, and ancient tools… But only one caught my eye. There was an ornate mug, one he had said was used in the ancient rituals of some… tribe. Shit, I never paid much attention. He said it would turn any liquid into what you desperately needed.\n\nFuck it. I smashed the glass, not bothering to look for the key. Dad had already long passed, paying for his adventures with his life and just leaving me this load of garbage. If he was alive he’d pitch a fit about me running cold water into an ancient artifact.\n\nBut he wasn’t alive, and I felt like I was dying.\n\nI held the cup, swirling around the tap water and thinking about just how stupid I was, when the water starting to turn dark… and thicken? Holy shit. It was working.\n\nWithout thinking too much about it, I turned the cup up. Thick, hot, coppery fluid rushed into my mouth, easing down my throat and exploding into my body. I felt better already, before I was even done drinking.\n\nI finished the cup greedily, then ran my finger around the inside to soak up the leftovers. My finger came away dark red, a blood red.\n\nBlood. Holy shit. I recognized the taste from skateboard and bike wipeouts when I was little. I wanted to gag, to throw up, but my body didn’t agree with my mind. I felt as right as rain.\n\n“Yes. It is blood.” A voice rasped from the darkness of my hallway. “And thank you for leading me to the artifact.”\n\nA tall figure, dressed in a brown trenchcoat took a step into the light, revealing his half melted face. He faintly smelled of used vegetable oil and fried meat.\n\n[/r/intotheslushpile](https://www.reddit.com/r/intotheslushpile/)\n " ]	[ 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 8, 8, 9, 12, 27, 37, 192 ]	[ "1503587087", "1503606568", "1503610225", "1503608709", "1503601450", "1503608221", "1503609091", "1503611623", "1503598960", "1503597223", "1503596155", "1503592064" ]
	[WP] Describe an Apple.	1	[ "\nOff-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 saw her abstract shape, sitting in a plain fruit bowl on my mom's counter top. Wide curves at the top of her, slimming down to a crown made of arcs at the bottom. I smirked, and she blushed a dark shade of red, a perfect rose color. She had a glossy shine, a reflection of the chandelier hanging above us. The white lenticels on her skin made her look like she contained a galaxy with a sweet nectar on the inside. I bit into her skin, my tongue finding the sweet nectar and crisp fruit that I desired. My favorite fruit; a red apple. " ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1503632486", "1503634046" ]
	[WP] You're the chosen one. Everyone's told you this all your life. The problem is nobody knows what you're chosen for.	27	[ "\nOff-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 way my mother looks at me. Dilated pupils fixated upon me, hazel irises cracking with anticipation. A distant sadness. It's the same way a lot of people look at me. Strangers. People I've never met before, their eyes bright just where the light is reflected, dim everywhere else. The President--the Commander In Chief--gives me this look. During meetings, briefings, of national security. The large desks before and between us spread end to end with manilla folders like butter to a bagel. But I can't eat a bite. That is--in the pit of my stomach, I have no idea what's going on. File after file laid on the table by secretary men and military men, and women alike, contain mug shots and red-stamp titles. Conspiracies, espionage; natural hazards; impending apocalyptic prophecies--assassination attempts. On me. On my mother. On family near and/or distant. On the President, in my name. Threats from other countries. Calls of war, denial of economic trades, goods, and jobs. Private space exploration and plans for celestial colonization tripling in quantity and effort. Countries having governments overthrown, and states such as Hawaii and Alaska seceding to Japanese and Russian control--The President allowing it to happen. Nobody intervened. Everyone just stood, looking at me. The secretary men and military men, and women alike. The cameramen and make-up artists, the indiscriminate crowds. My friends; my family. My mother--that crack in her eye. And nobody knows what to expect, nor why. Not even me. ", "A man approaches in a white reflective suit. He moves slowly and bounces forward with only the sort of patience that comes with acceptance over time at the gravitational lack of pull. He begins to trip, arms thrown out, stumbling, but at the last second, manages to find his balance and stay on his feet. He turns around and peers behind him, looking intently and waiting. He doesn’t wait long thought and takes more confident bounds now, breathing into his echo chamber of a helmet. He speaks words carefully: “Light r1 and r2 on.” Two beams of light cone out in the darkness of the smooth rock cavern. He’s not sure which sense kicked in first, whether his intuition whispered it or it was seeing a shadow flash near on the right. Perhaps even multiple sense all reported on the same fear: he was not alone.\n\nThe white suit took slow and measured steps now. The threat of the unknown was crawling over his mind, on the surface, and digging to get in. He refused to let it go where it wanted, but it went everywhere else. His steps quickened to the point of running, as much as one could without touching the ground for a full second or two. He approached a low ledge, and managed to leap over it without tripping. He thought of the early days of humanity, and what their fear of tripping would mean when you and your fellow tribesmen were still prey on the god-engraved primitive food chain. A gazing lion would examine your insides within a handful of minutes. \n\nThe evolutionary fear produced beads of sweat, as the man turned his upper torso to look behind him and see wide pillars of rock. The air cooling system blew the beads of sweat away, but it took some minutes. His robotic god, whose suit he wore, pumped his heart, and got the railroad of arteries to begin working overtime, little red and white individuals rushed along their respective tracks, attuned because of the words: “15% oxygen remaining.” \n\nThe man in the white suit realized the little edge that he had leaped over moments earlier put him on a smooth circular rock disk. What he thought was a pillar of rock in the center, began to transform into an artistic rendering of a monument. He dared not blink, nor look behind him now. He felt the shadow move, noise came onto his incoming mic, and all his senses were crying for him to look behind, and face the shadow. He instead placed his hands over the flat of the stone, and cleaned the dust off – there was a single name on it; a person with two first names: Gordon Garry. \n\n\ntbc.\n\n\n\n\nedit: some heavy edits, i had to go to work, i just read it back, and realized it some funny mistakes.\n" ]	[ 1, 3, 4 ]	[ "1503676827", "1503720675", "1503693941" ]
	[WP] Companies are people too. Literally. When a company is founded, it's avatar appears in the real world. The avatar evolves as the company grows.	13	[ "\nOff-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 first WP, typing on my phone. \n\nThe sun was setting, flecks of red and gold painted the sky. It had been a hot and tiresome day. John had been stuck in traffic for almost an hour. \nOn the horizon, a hulking blue creature sat still on the highway. \nJohn flicked on the radio, a mellow voice recited the traffic, informing him that Facebook was down and would be up shortly. John stifled a disgruntled groan.\n\n A knock came at his window. Startled, he looked over to see a small goblin. It had welts and blister, clearly it was infected with viruses. It had small green stickers plastered over its short frame, all saying \"download\". The goblin was grinning a terrifying grin, prompting him to open the window. John looked away. Hoping that ignoring it enough would make it leave. \"do I have to be stuck sitting next to this dam thing??\" he thought, aggravated.\n\n Time passed, and the goblin had, thankfully, left. The sky had turned dark. Almost two hours had passed. Facebook still sat, motionless. A woman in the car next to him cradled a baby of sorts. A squat pink animal with buttons as eyes cobbled together with glitter and stitching. It was shrieking as the woman tried to calm it. \"Must be a starter business\" he thought. \nHe had often wondered if it would be worth starting his own business. He'd seen the colossal beasts crossing over the streets, murmuring titans capable of leveling cities if it swayed them. \nMcDonald's had stood on his car once, but he was parked illegally and couldn't go into legal dealings. He thought of how great it would be to have so much power, his own power instead of feeding the monster that belonged to another man.\n\n A piercing scream lifted him from his daydream, the baby in the car next door was rapidly shrinking. It's body losing colour, the glitter was peeling from its skin revealing purple flesh. The woman was in hysterics. John sat in horror as he watched the baby crumbling. It's bones became visible. The woman hugged the creature, it was growing colder, and quieter. She sobbed and rocked back and forth. Pleading with any deity that would listen. \n\nSuddenly, the floor shuddered beneath the car. Facebook had awoken. Shards of rock spilling off of its gigantic shoulders. \nJohn looked back at the woman and saw the baby growing brighter. It's glitter reforming. It's body swelling back to a healthy pudginess. It was giggling and held out it's little hands. The woman smiled and held it tightly. Relieved that her company did not die.\n\n John drove forward slowly \"better not make it an online business\" he thought to himself. ", "I pursed my lips as I looked in the mirror. I looked good, but was I really worth $13.7 billion? \"The outside might not be,\" I whispered, touching my reflection. \"But your soul definitely is.\" I took a deep breath and then headed out the door. I didn't like going out on Saturday night, but tonight I didn't have a choice; tonight, I had a date.\n\nWell, a little more than a date. I'd had some brief flirtations, a dalliance here and there, but this...this was it. \n\nI squared my shoulders as I approached the restaurant doors. \"You got this,\" I changed to myself. \"You're fresh, you're quirky, and you're not artificial. You're the real deal.\" I pulled open the doors, and walked up to the hostess.\n\n\"Um, reservation for Amazon?\" I asked.\n\n\"Over here!\" A man waved to me from a table in the corner. He was tall with an incredibly wide smile. As I walked over to him, he seemed a little jerky as he bounced his foot up and down, bumping the table. He seemed to just hum with energy. \n\n\"Hi,\" I smiled tentatively, extending my hand. \"Whole Foods, but you can call me Texi.\" He looked a little confused, so I elaborated. \"Short for Texas, my birthplace.\" \n\n\"Amazon,\" he greeted me. \"My friends call me Cadabra, Cad, Prime, Alex.\" He waved his hands as he spoke, and I couldn't help but chuckle. \n\n\"So,\" I said as the waiter poured our water, \"you're...acquiring me.\"\n\n\"Well, that's clinical,\" he frowned. \"I'm in love with you.\"\n\n\"You don't even know me,\" I accused. \n\n\"You had humble southern beginnings.\" He was back to waving his hands about. He really was all over the place, wasn't he? \"Despite set backs, you expanded rapidly-\"\n\n\"Hey!\" I exclaimed. \"You never tell a lady she's a rapid expander. I made strategic acquisitions.\"\n\n\"You have a committed staff and a clear dedication to excellence,\" he continued. After a small pause, he gave a small head bob. \"And you're rich.\" \n\n\"Well, you do too much,\" I raised an eyebrow. \"And I hear you drive your employees crazy.\" \n\nAmazon's eyes went soft and his shoulders collapsed. \"I do,\" he admitted, shaking his head. \"I'm all over the place, and I need to settle down.\" He stared into my eyes. \"Help me? Provide a stable base and bring me back to my roots?\"\n\n\"Is that what you really want?\" I asked. This went against everything I knew about him. Amazon was a love em and leave em kind of guy, not a romantic. His name started with an 'A' due to the probability of people going with the first company on a list, for Pete's sake!\n\nHe was silent for a moment, just looking at me. Then a shadow passed over his face and he grinned rather evilly. \"No,\" he admitted. \"I just really want you. I want you so much, I'm willing to pay $14 billion for you and your soul.\"\n\nThe waiter came back and placed a basket of bread on the table. Amazon grabbed a slice and started buttering it voraciously. \"Look,\" he said, \"you can stay you. I just really want to be associated with your culture and pure heart, ok?\"\n\nI inhaled sharply. This was my crossroads, my moment of truth. I felt my own leg start to shake under the table. What should I do?\n\n\"I mean,\" he said, shoving the bread in his mouth, \"its not like I'm Walmart.\"\n\nI rolled my eyes. I couldn't believe what I was about to do. I leaned across the table and got right in his face. \n\n\"Write me a check, Prime.\"\n\nR/DieKarrotte" ]	[ 1, 3, 9 ]	[ "1503686771", "1503700706", "1503693093" ]
	[WP] While enjoying your morning cup of coffee you read, like every morning, the minds of the people walking by. Until you are interupted by a female voice in your head who tells you to knock it off. 'All of your talent is wasted if you continue to live as careless as this' she says.	34	[ "\nOff-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 will he text me back? \n\nMy paycheck comes today.\n\nGod, she's hot. \n\nI looked around the small, quaint coffee shop and matched the voices to the face. It was a little game I had developed, just to make mornings a little more fun. When I first realized I could hear people's thoughts, I was pretty excited. I'd run around listening in on all kinds of things. The novelty soon wore off though, as the thoughts got more and more monotonous. \n\nShould I get a donut? It looks so good but the diet... \n\nI looked over to see a petite brunette eyeing the pastries. \"Get the donut, you won't regret it,\" \n\nShe looked over at me, startled. \"Is it good?\" \n\n\"Very,\" I grinned, taking a sip of my coffee. \n\nHe's cute, should I ask him out? \n\n\"I'm Mavis, and if you're thinking of joining me for coffee, I'd be honored,\" I said, smiling mischievously. \n\nShe started to chuckle, and suddenly paused. Squinting her eyes suspiciously at me, she slowly walked over to me. She looked me straight in my eyes as I doubled over gripping my ears. The loud, shrill sound of a siren was playing in my head and I couldn't get it to stop. \n\n\"Are you alright, sir?\" she asked, raising her eyebrow.\n\n\"I'm fine,\" I groaned. \"Just a headache,\" \n\nMaybe you'll think twice before using your talent to pick up girls. \n\n\"What are you talking about?\" I asked, still trying to get the ringing out of my ears. By now, most of the shop was staring at our exchange. \n\n\"I didn't say anything, are you sure you're alright?\" she said as she motioned the waiter to get a glass of water. Did you really think you were the only one? \n\nThe ringing in my ears finally subsided and I looked up at her, eyes wide. She knew. She was like me. Who are you? \n\nThe least of your problems. Your constant mind activity has caught the attention of some... unfavorable people. \n\n\"Am I supposed to just stop? It's a part of my life now,\" I took a sip of water. The shop had returned to its normal busy hum of conversation. \n\nAll of your talent is wasted if you continue to live as carelessly as this. You need training, and fast.\n\nI'm not going anywhere with you. I looked her in the eyes with as much stubbornness as I could muster. \n\n\"Ahhh,\" I doubled over again, the shrill sound taking over any other thought. \n\nYou're going to do exactly as I tell you.\n\n", "I can't really remember when I first started hearing the voices. To me, I'd always heard them. It must have started when I was real young, but it didn't take me long to realize that the voices were the inner thoughts of everyone around me. \n\nIt took me a little while to control what I heard instead of hearing everyone at once. When I did, however, it was a gift beyond imagination. In elementary school, I could always get the right answer to a math problem simply by listening to what the teacher was thinking, and I was deemed a genius. In high school, I knew what girls I liked were thinking, letting me know exactly what they wanted to hear; I became a ladies man. After college, I could read the thoughts of possible employers, which allowed me to land a job at a Fortune 500 company. \n\nOf course, there were still annoyances that came with the gift. I knew what every person thought of me, whether it was good or bad. For the most part, the negatives didn't affect me; I would simply ignore them or change what that person didn't like about me. There was always the occasional weirdo as well, though; people whose thoughts made me shudder. You'd be disgusted at what people can think about when they believe no one is listening. \n\nHowever, despite all that, one thing was always the same in everyone's mind. They had no idea I was listening. \n\nUntil today. \n\nI had just finished my breakfast, made by my dazzling wife. Normally, the bikini model would have been way out of my league, but thanks to the gift, I always knew what she wanted, and she loved that about me.\n\nWhen I got up, I heard her think, 'I really hope he didn't forget our anniversary today.' I realized she was right, today was our anniversary. So after I had put on my suit for work and grabbed my daily cup of coffee, I gave her a kiss, and whispered, \"Happy anniversary, darling.\" She beamed with joy.\n\n\"Oh Henry, you did remember!\" I smiled, and followed up with, \"Of course I did! When I get home tonight, be ready for a big surprise dinner, my beautiful wife.\"\n\nShe waved at me as I strolled down the sidewalk away from our 12 million dollar house. I took a sip of the sweet caffeine elixir, and began my morning routine: reading the minds of people I passed. \n\nIn the five blocks it takes me to walk to my work, I learned that our neighbor, Mrs. Josephine, was planning a surprise party for her sister, the mailman had accidentally dropped a letter down the sewer, a stranger with a hefty beard was doing heroin, and one of my colleagues just found out she was pregnant. \n\nAs I approached my work building, I heard a voice that was unlike the others I had heard during my walk. It was direct, like someone was having a conversation in their head, rather than the careless ramblings that I usually heard. When I focused on the voice, I nearly dropped my suitcase in shock.\n\nThe female voice said, 'All of your talent is wasted if you continue to live as careless as this.'\n\nSomehow, I knew the voice was talking to me. I glanced around me to see who was nearby, but nobody seemed to be looking at me. I tried to convince myself that I was just being paranoid. It was probably just someone talking to themselves; that kind of talk was a common theme.\n\nWhen I ignored the first sentence, another echoed in my head. 'Are you listening to me, Henry?'\n\nNow the voice was using my name. I stopped walking, and started spinning wildly, trying to pin point the location of the new voice. When I didn't see anyone, I realized might be able to send my thoughts back to it.\n\nI thought in my head, 'what do you want?' I was only half surprised when I got an answer back. \n\n'I want you to stop using your gift for your own personal gains. Do you know what good you could be doing in the world?'\n\nI was starting to get frustrated. I didn't ask for the gift. 'Who are you?' I thought. \n\n'That doesn't matter,' was the response. 'It only matters that you start being the hero you should be.'\n\n'Oh yeah? Well what if I refuse?'\n\nOh man, was that a mistake. \n\nSuddenly, it felt like a bomb had gone off in my brain. Searing pain shot through my head, making me crumple to ground in agony. I clutched my head, squeezing my eyes shut, as what seems like pure hell drove through my skull. \n\nI laid there on the ground for what seemed like ages. I felt people come up to me and touch my arm, seeing if I was okay. But all I could think about was the throbbing in my brain. When I finally opened my eyes again, I saw a women crouched down in front of me. Bright green eyes stared into mine. Then the voice echoed clearly in my head for the last time.\n\n'You will start doing good for the world, Henry, or you will pay the price. You have my word.'\n\nAnd with that, the women got up, and walked off back down the street.\n" ]	[ 1, 3, 16 ]	[ "1503698968", "1503761055", "1503711540" ]
	[WP] After months of searching, rescuers finally find the wreckage of a lost plane deep in wilderness. Surprisingly, the passengers and crew are unharmed. Even more surprisingly, All of the survivors adamantly refuse to be rescued.	9	[ "\nOff-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", "Back to reality which is more brutal than ever. \nWish we could all go back up to neverland and dream together. \nI thought life was great and that it couldn't get better. \nUntil I went to neverland and felt more love than I could ask for. \nBack to reality, they're trying to save us just to hold us captive. \nDon't let them take us back to this world doomed for disaster. \nWe just want to go back to neverland where there is never no never. \nBut if we have to stay in reality, then let us die here together. " ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1503725304", "1503725794" ]
Meet*	[WP]You're a dreamwalker, you help children go to sleep by interacting with them in their dreams. There are cases where you have to revisit some of them. Until you met a child whose dream keeps coming back, each time, scarier.	34	[ "\nOff-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", "They come to me in the same way every time. A parent, sometimes two (but usually just one), looking nervous, will drag along a sullen, sunken-eyed child. There is always a story--meaningless background, apologetic deference, pleading. The years may change, but they always offer money--coin, paper, trinkets, the like. Humans are such simple creatures. They know vaguely of what I am, but never put together why I do not care for money. I have little choice but to forgive them--in their blindness, they are shielded from the darkness that surrounds them. That is why they come to me when their children cannot sleep. \n\nOne time was different.\n\nThe last girl came to me in the 28th heavenly cycle of my Exile--598 human years. Her mother, a frail wisp of a woman, carried her on her back and fell to the ground at the foot of my temple. In gasping, tiny breaths, she begged me to save her child. I did not doubt her sincerity, but I knew at a glance that this was not her child. I looked on as she passed. Her spirit, a pale white shadow, untethered itself from her body, but did not leave--she was stubborn even in death. I gazed at the child.\n\nThe girl was young, perhaps 4 or 5 human years old. She was crying, weakly, and it seemed she had long run out of actual tears to shed. At first, I believed the child would die as her mother had, until she began to writhe uncomfortably against the straps that held her down. Then I saw her spirit--a vivid red shadow, encircling her body like a caged dog--and knew that this was no ordinary girl. I knelt beside the girl and placed a hand upon her head\n\nTo dreamwalk is to enter the spirit of another being and gaze at the connections it has made to the spiritual world. Most humans have little to no link to the spiritual world, and thus do not dream. Some humans, though, possess particular spiritual sensitivity, and will make inadvertent connections to the demons that surround them. This is particularly dangerous for children, who are too young to control their minds when dreaming. When I placed my hand upon the girl, I opened the pathway, allowing myself to enter her soul. \n\nMy jaw tightened as I opened my eyes. Her dream world was in utter chaos--a dark cave filled to the brim with shimmering black spirits that covered every wall and raced across the air around me. I raised my right hand high and began to recite a familiar chant:\n\nI am the Beacon of Heaven.\n\nIn my hands a staff materialized, at the top of which swung a small lantern. \n\nI hold the light above all shadows.\n\nWith a twist of the wrist, the lantern ignited, producing a pure white light that caused the spirits nearby to recoil. \n\nWith this power, I command thee--begone!\n\nI struck the staff upon the ground, causing the lantern light to radiate outwards in pulsing waves. Striding across the cave, I held the staff high, banishing the spirits before me. \n\nFinally, only one spirit remained--the girl's red shadow, which snapped sharply against the lantern's white light while backing away. I lowered the lantern and spoke directly to it. \n\n\"I do not seek your death, spirit. Your mind was nearly consumed--I have freed you.\"\n\nThe red shadow paid me no heed--it was strong, but primal. Finally, I realized why it had not stopped, as I turned around and saw shadows creeping in through the walls yet again. \n\nWhat was this girl? How open was her mind? What demons would dare defy a Beacon of Heaven? I readied my staff and began to chant again. In my mind, a grim thought appeared: if this would be this girl's fate, would she be better blessed with a long life or fewer years? \n" ]	[ 1, 12 ]	[ "1503726392", "1503736443" ]
	[WP] You look up "murders near me" on the internet, it tells you the current location of 7 killers. One of them is behind you.	4	[ "\nOff-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", "\"Oh shit...\"\n\nThat was all I could mutter before turning around and seeing my friend, Jack, right behind me, knife in hand. I grabbed his arm and looked him in the eye, trying to be as serious as I could possibly get across.\n\n\"It's been a week, the cops know, and they know you're here. I'm fucked now, you're definitely fucked, they've had to have found the chick by now. It's. Time. To. Go.\"\n\nHe dropped his Sandwich as he looked behind me, seeing his location displayed across the monitor. The realization washed over him as he pulled he arm back, knife clattering to the floor and began running to take what he could before we left.\n\n\"Jesus christ man, did you have to break into fucking police files just to prove a point?\"\n\nI began doing the same as we were hurriedly talking and packing.\n\n\"Apparently I did considering you're hauling ass.\"\n\n\"yeah, because I'm fucked right about now.\"\n\n\"You've been fucked the past couple of days. I get that you wanted to say goodbye to everyone, but damn it the file says we're both on their list now.\"\n\nJack stopped running around while he held an old t-shirt in hand, jeans half way up as he looked at me. Tears began to well up as his voice quivered.\n\n\"Damn it man, I'm so sorry. I just wanted to fucking... fuck, damn it. I've been single for a year now man, I couldn't help it, and when she wanted extra and that dude came in with that giant ass hunting knife... and... and...\"\n\nHe was crouching down and starting to really lose it. He wasn't the brightest, but he wouldn't hurt a fly, although that didn't count while he had a knife to his throat and a gun in his hand, but at this point we were committed. We had to move, because that file was newly updated, so police shouldn't be far behind. I tried to be as inspiring as possible, even while I was halfway through my beard and a beater around my neck.\n\n\"Listen, dude. I'd have been caught either way. You think I can just walk into some police servers no questions asked? I've been doing shit online for a while now. The only thing I didn't expect to have is my best friend along for the ride. Shit happened, you fucked up, they fucked up, everything is fucked up. Considering the sheriff isn't too keen on having a dead daughter, we're both going to get a short life sentence. Lets make the most of what we got.\"\n\nI was picking Jack up off the floor as he was sniffling and wiping up his tears.\n\n\"Y'know... you suck at that emotional shit. I just needed a minute for it to sink in. We've always wanted to travel, right? What was that thing you wanted to see the Aurora Borealis back when we were kids?\"\n\nNow I was tearing up a bit. \"Yeah... yeah, the reminded me of my old room back when I was a kid. Big ole' glow in the dark stripe stickers on my ceiling that looked like 'em, at least I thought they did. But I mean... that was so long ago.\"\n\n\"Ok, well do you still want to?\"\n\n\"yeah, yeah I still do.\"\n\n\"Well then, let's finish packing and do it.\"\n\nI couldn't help but laugh as tears rolled down my face. \"Man, I DO suck at this emotional shit compared to you.\"\n\nBy the time the cops arrived, it was the middle of the night. It was a good idea to leave the car alone and cut through the woods out back. It was the end of our old beginnings, and the beginning of our ends.\n\nEdit: Grammar and Changed \"we're all packed up, lets do it.\" to \"Well then, let's finish packing and do it.\"", "\"The name's Greed\"\n\n\"HOLY HELL!\" I flopped out my seat and spun around. A guy in denim jeans and leather jacket towered over me. His eyes were narrow, and his hair was messy and pitch black. His grin widened as my heartrate increased. \n\n\"What do you want?\" I squeaked out\n\n\"Everything\" He raised his hand, revealing a knife and prepared to plunge it into me when a hand grabbed his.\n\nThat's all I have the patience to write, I'm ready to pass out", "I suppose I'm easily impressed by technological advances. It's genuinely possible to look up anything nowadays. There had been several deaths lately, all of them involving foul play. Murders, as they're more commonly known. My little town hadn't seen so many deaths in such succession. Though I had no family, I felt obligated to update myself on their location because, frankly, I had no desire to bump into one. I booted the computer in my living room, and started the internet. It took only one search: \"Murders near me.\"\n\nI was instantly greeted by several hundred thousand results, most of them inaccurate, though I only had to click on the first link. The police department's site. Should've just started here. I'd originally lost count of the exact number of murders; it was only seven. Can't even count to double digits, dude. Dude? I never call myself that. The justice system in my town's a bit odd. For whatever reason, the actual killers had been allowed to walk free... at the cost of wearing one of those, uh, tracking-anklet things. I always thought it wasn't a price to pay at all, but I'm no cop. Of the seven murderers... two were in Livingston Centre, one in his basement, three seemed to be holding a meeting between 4th and Bronze St., and the last one was immediately behind me.\n\nYeah, 'cause I just so happened to click on the last murderer at the last second, right? I hardly had time to finish my thought before I heard a giggle. Just one. It belonged to a deep bass voice. One that didn't belong to me. Despite the horror cliché, it was too late at night, too dark in the room, for me to take any chances. I shot around to find a silhouette behind me. A man, without doubt. The only light was from my computer screen, and my presence blocked out everything but the man's smile.\n\nI stood, sending my chair flying his way, and sprinted to my bedroom. I slammed the door, hearing the man shout in pain and fall, and cowered in the corner of my closet. I began to pray. Pray because I knew who that man was. Because I couldn't just sit there and pretend the \"bad people\" weren't coming anymore. That's the thing. I lived alone at that point in time, but I had a wife. It'd help my reputation if I said I loved her. Her name was Jennie. I hoped nobody would find out I killed her. I don't even remember the reason, it just some pointless argument to go along with it. I was praying that I wouldn't have to answer for strangling her while she slept. She couldn't even fight back. It hadn't been a real problem until I was in that closet. With that cop in my house.\n\nThat's the other reason, actually. I'd just remembered that, after the trial, I had some connections in the force. Gave me a tip, you see, those murderers on the website are hired doppelgängers. The real felons are shipped to somewhere else, going through God-knows-what in some offshore prison. Nobody ever returns. One of the officers said any attempted escapees get their legs \"amputated due to incurable illness.\" Not the kind of place I wanted to be. They gave me 24 hours to get the hell out of town. I didn't. I woke up this morning, and... I refused to believe any of it. Jennie's not dead, she's a work. The cops aren't coming, I don't have one of those...ankle-trackers. The cardboard cutout isn't in the den, the den doesn't even exist. In the closet, that's the moment when I realized I had been given an \"ankle-tracker.\" Not me, but the cardboard cutout of me. Legal reasons or something. That blip on the map was the cardboard cutout, and I was sitting there crying in a safe room because I'd literally scared myself.\n\nIt took a few minutes to calm myself down. But, when I had, I returned to my feet. Sure enough, the cardboard cutout was lying face up only a few feet from the computer, with a few cracks in it from the chair's impact. Whoops! The tracker remained strapped onto its right ankle through the whole little ordeal. This is the most idiotic stunt I've ever pulled. I sat the figure in its place in the living room- Actually, no, I didn't, because there was no place for it in the living room. I sat the haunting thing down in the den and tried to forget its existence. I was sure I hadn't touched it. And, upon reflection, I was sure I'd heard giggling and a shout come from behind it before I ran into the closet. That wasn't a great sign. Neither was the fact that it was 24 hours past the trial, nor that my computer's tower switched off, leaving me in the dark." ]	[ 1, 2, 2, 2 ]	[ "1503794049", "1503798437", "1503802215", "1503807651" ]
	[WP] “Sir, you’ve just been mugged. We think they stole some memories, is there anything you can’t remember?”	52	[ "\nOff-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", "\"Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?\"\n\nIt was as if someone squeezed by brain between two cymbals clanging together again and again. A high-pitch wail assaulted my ears. My eyes felt coated in sand. I squeezed them tighter. I was on the cold sidewalk. How did I get here?\n\n\"Oh my God, oh my God.\" It was a man's voice.\n\n\"Jesus, Darren, call the cops.\" A woman?\n\n\"We should go.\"\n\n\"Darren, stop being a child! Call the freakin' cops! Don't make me tell you again.\"\n\nI opened my eyes. A terrified man stared down at me, and there was woman crouched beside me, helping me up. Her eyes were soft, her touch gentle and caring.\n\n\"Sir, you've just been mugged. We think they stole some memories. Is there anything you can't remember?\"\n\nThe whole world tilted in my vision. I couldn't remember what I couldn't remember. I could only focus on the pressure building behind my forehead and the terrible wailing sound.\n\n\"What's that noise?\" I groaned.\n\n\"Sir, what's the last thing you remember?\" the woman asked.\n\n\"Um, I was going to the store. Yeah. I think I was going to the store. Uh, for, um... It was important. We were out of something. Yeah, yeah. Clara and I were out of something important. And Clara said she would do it, but she really wanted to take a shower, so I offered to go and -- What is that noise?\" The wailing became even louder. It set my whole soul on edge.\n\n\"Is Clara your wife? Is it just you and Clara?\" she asked. \n\n\"She's my wife, yeah. It's just us. And...\" There was something else.\n\nThe woman tried to fill the gap. \"Do you have a dog?\"\n\n\"I think. Maybe. We have something.\"\n\n\"We'll get you back to Clara and your dog soon,\" she said, holding my hand. \"Do you have Clara's number?\"\n\nI nodded and took out my phone. She gently took it from my hands. \n\n\"Do you remember who did this to you?\" the woman asked.\n\nI shook my head. She sighed. \"We were too far away to see them.\"\n\nThe man hung up the phone. \"The police are coming. Should be here in a minute.\"\n\n\"Go to the corner and flag them down,\" she said, shouting over the wailing. \"Make sure they find us.\" The man walked briskly down the street.\n\nI started to get up.\n\n\"Sir, please. Stay down until the police come.\"\n\n\"But that noise. Do you not hear it?\" It was so loud. I needed to go to it. And the store. The store was necessary.\n\n\"Do you remember anything else?\"\n\n\"I need to go to the store. It's important.\"\n\n\"And you will,\" she assured, \"once the police come.\"\n\n\"Smashed peas, I need to buy smashed peas,\" I insisted.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"It's her favorite.\"\n\n\"Whose?\"\n\nI didn't know. The wailing was so loud, my ears burned. \n\n\"Sir, you just stay here. I'm going to call your wife, okay?\" the woman said. She rose and walked toward the wailing noise. It was coming from behind me. I turned. \"Shhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhh,\" the woman cooed as she leaned into the baby stroller. \"Shhhhh.\" She pushed the stroller down the dark street. The wailing slowed and quieted. \"Shhhhh, mommy's here.\"\n\nThe noise was finally gone, but my head still pounded. I couldn't see the nice man and woman anymore. I closed my eyes and waited for the police.\n\nSmashed peas. Smashed peas. Why did I need smashed peas? \n\n\n\n\n", "\"Yes, my name. I cannot remember my name.\" \n\nThe two police officers looked at him with strange expressions on their faces. Memory theft was a recent thing and this was the first time someone had their name stolen. \n\n\"Sir, do you remember where you live?\" \n\nThe man nodded. \n\n\"Then we will drive you home sir.\"\n\nThey got back to his house in the suburbs. There were toys in the front lawn and a mini van parked in the driveway. \n\nThe police and the man walked up to the front door and knocked. A woman opened the door.\n\n\"Yes what can I help you with officers?\" She said.\n\nThe man was about to say \"honey I'm home\", but he could not remember her name, nor could he remember the name of their children. He remembered his life there, he had all these happy memories with them, but he could not remember their names. The woman just stood there and looked at him as he was some kind of stranger. He turned the officers and whispered that he could not remember the name of his family. \n\nSince non of the strange men had not spoke the woman grew anxious and said: \n\n\"Would you please tell me if something have happened? Why are you here?\"\n\nOne of the police officers spoke: \"Do you remember your husband?\" \n\n\"No,\" she answered, \"I never had a husband.\"\n", "\"what?!\" \nA blindingly bright light shun down on me and a deep voice accompanied it:\n\"you've been mugged... sir\"\nit repeated\n\"is there something you can't remember\"\nthe voice, somewhat impatiently, elaborated.\n\ni had to think about that\n\n\"something i can't remember?\"\ni repeated back to the voice\n\"how am i supposed to know what i can't remember?\"\ni asked increasingly frustrated\n\"if you forget something, you're not very likely to remember having forgotten it, in the first place are you?!\"\ni continued almost yelling, upheaven by the pure ludicracy of it all.\n\ndeep sigh\n\n\"Well, seems you have haven't forgotten your sarcasm\"\nwait, did i know that voice?\n\"so, do you remember your name, then?\"\n...\n\"my name?\"\n\n\"sure, its Roy\"\nI started getting paranoid, like there was some big point i was missing\n\"ok do you remember what you were doing today?\"\nWait who was this? was it really a cop as i assumed at first\n\"who are you?\"\nthere was a small pause, and the sound of... scribbling on paper?\n\"you don't remember my name?\"\nmy mind went blank, i knew i recognized the voice, but who was it?\n\"What, no?\"\nand what was up with that flashlight?\n\"who are you, and could you turn off that goddamn lamp before i lose my sight as well?!\"\nThe lamp went off, everything went dark as my eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings\n\"do you remember where you are?\"\ni skimmed arund the building, a large empty room, like an old factory.\n\"no\"\ni said, almost whispering, careful not to choke on the lump in my throat, i started remembering\n\"are you sure?\"\nthe man now revealed as a young man with a rigid, pointy, face, clad in what looked like, a labcoat? \n\nthe panic became real\n\n\"yeah of course i'm sure!\" \ni yelled with fake impatience\n\"i was at the movies last night, i went home that's the last thing i remember!\"\n\"now i wake up in some abandoned warehouse and you tell me my memories have been stolen?!\"\nthe man took a deep breath that sounded almost... hopeful?\n\n\"sir i need you to calm down\"\nthe man said with a newfound calm, almost soothing voice\n\"i'm from the CIA\"\nhe said holding out a badge\n\"forensics department\"\nhe elaborated\n\n\"im sorry to tell you that you have been the target of a dangerous new type of crime that targets your short-term memory\"\nthe panic settled from immediate to nervous, chaotic speculation...\nwhat had happened?\nidentiy theft?\n\" it's almost like a sort of hypnosis, combined with a dangerous new drug\"\n\"the lab boys call it...\"\nshit!\ni remembered now\n\"MOLE\"\nmy mind went blank\n\"MOLE?\"\ni repeated back to the agent, suddenly filled with an innate sense of calm\n\"yes\"\na slight grin on his face that for some reason made me start... laughing\nthe agent unexpectedly started laughing with me\n\"that's right Roy, MOLE\"\nrepeated the agent still grinning\n\"now if you don't mind, i need you to sign a few documents in order for us to proceed with your investigation\"\nHe found his composure, pulled out a boards with a few papers on it from his lab coat and handed me a pen.\n\"of course\"\ni found myself saying not finding any quarrel with the idea of signing any papers of the fine gentleman gave me.\nlooking at the forms, first at the bottom where the signature was required\nthen at the title in the top, i had to suppress a burst of laughter with all my might.\n\nMK ULTRA\n\nwhat a silly name!\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Costa Weymouth was a busy man, an important man, and a family man, though rarely all three things at once. He prided himself on the small things - the even trim of his beard, the impeccably sharp corners of his pocket square, and the names, dates, and numbers he never wrote down, because he never needed to. He was, on the whole, a grand thing, but Weymouth knew that grandiosity was built on a foundation of the smallest bricks.\n\nIn the market outside Luxor Way, the glass stalls were gleaming like crystal. Weymouth had come looking for an anniversary gift for his wife. His men were there, too, of course, trying to look inconspicuous. There was no avoiding that, though - no tailored suit in the world could hide the telltale geometric lines of sharply ridged muscle that marked a bodyman. And Weymouth had ten of them. \n\nThe famous Italian bio-tinkerer Lescoute had a booth there - a simple \"boutique\" somehow more expensive and mobbed with customers than his 200 official locations across the globe. Weymouth entered. His bodymen cleared the store. Then, maybe ten minutes later, Weymouth left, a thing like a bird colored in negative space lay sedated in a cage carried by one of the bodymen. When the bird sang, time stood still, or so said the saleswoman. In truth, it was a bio-rhythmic effect, warping the perception of the listener, dragging perceived space to a standstill. Like a drug that sang a pretty song. It had been quite expensive.\n\nThey had made to leave, when the sky above the market began to flutter, blue to purple to white to blue again. There was also a sound, like the jingle of rusted sleigh bells. Then a BANG. Then a smell like ripe raspberries. At the end of all that, Weymouth passed out.\n\nWhen he came to, they were far outside of the market. His bodymen were standing in a protective circle. One knelt down and helped Weymouth up to his feet.\n\n\"Theodore, sir,\" said the bodyman. \"Our apologies. We fear you may have been robbed, sir.\"\n\nWeymouth looked down at himself. Dirty. Scuffed. Otherwise unharmed. He felt for his wallet and found it. \"The bird?\"\n\nAnother bodyman held up the cage. \"Then what?\" said Weymouth.\n\n\"A memory, perhaps,\" said Theodore. \"Maybe more than one.\" \n\nWeymouth's mouth moved soundlessly for a moment. He had heard rumors, but was it really possible? \"How...which memories?\"\n\nBut Theodore shook his head. \"There's no way to know.\" Another bodyman approached, handing Theodore his phone. Theodore spoke on the phone for a moment, then, \"Do you feel any gaps? Something on the tip of your tongue? A feeling of lost momentum?\" He whispered in the phone some more as Weymouth shook his head. \"Do you know who you are?\"\n\nWeymouth frowned. \"Yes! Obviously. And I don't feel as though I've forgotten anything.\"\n\nTheodore clenched his fist around the phone. \"The codes, perhaps?\"\n\nWeymouth felt a fleeting moment of panic. \"No...no, I know the codes! It wasn't that.\" \n\n\"All of them?\" said Theodore.\n\n\"Yes, of course!\"\n\n\"How many?\"\n\nWeymouth stared hard at the bodyman. \"I know the codes.\"\n\n\"We need to act quickly,\" said Theodore. Weymouth could feel the other bodymen shuffling on the periphery. He felt something accusatory in their stares. Like he'd been compromised.\n\n\"There are 12 codes,\" said Weymouth. \"I know them all. They weren't taken.\"\n\nOne of the bodymen made a small, uncomfortable groan.\n\n\"Thirteen,\" said Theodore. \"There are 13 codes. Written down nowhere. Known by no one but you. Vault codes. Security. Trader codes. Accounts codes. Sir...they have one of them.\"\n\nWeymouth shoved the bodyman aside. \"No. No. NO! Let me think...I can remember...\"\n\n\"Which do you remember, sir?\" said Theodore. \"We have no idea how fast they're moving. Would you like us to lock everything down?\"\n\n\"Thirteen?\" said Weymouth. \"No, that's not right.\" He counted under his breath. \"Twelve! There are 12. That's the right number...\"\n\n\"Sir, I know you're in shock,\" said Theodore. \"But they took one of your codes. That's how these memory thefts work. They take the whole thing, root and all. There's no trace left. That's why you think it's 12 and not 13.\"\n\nHow did it happen? Weymouth felt like a child. Things were happening that seemed unreal and unreasonable to him and all he wanted to do was go home. Like a child. \n\n\"Let's lock down everything,\" said Theodore, firmly, but patiently. \"Then you can reset each code one by one. It's the safest way.\"\n\nHe really did just want to go home. \"Right,\" said Weymouth. \"Perhaps you're right.\" Theodore handed him a phone. He dialed in to Central Data. He provided the override.\n\n\"We'll bring him by to begin re-coding everything manually,\" said Theodore, taking the phone and Weymouth's arm. \"Everything will be fine, sir. I apologize for this. This is not something that should ever happen.\"\n\nWeymouth was tired. So tired. \"Hopefully no damage was done, er...you said you were Theodore right? Have you... have you been with us a long time?\"\n\nTheodore smiled. \"See? I told them, Mr. Weymouth. I told them you were good with names and numbers, but not faces ...not real people. You only see what seems important enough to see, and nothing more, right?\"\n\n\"What?\" said Weymouth, pulling to a stop, stepping around to look Theodore in the face. \"What about your face? Am I suppose to know you from somewhere?\"\n\n\"No, no,\" said Theodore. \"But that's the point. Do you recall ever seeing me before you woke up?\"\n\n\"I.... you were...\" Had he ever seen the man before? Weymouth looked around at the other bodymen. Could he recognize any of them, either? In truth... no, he couldn't. But he never...\n\n\"They really can steal memories,\" said Theodore, turning to walk away. \"But it's a whole big thing. Have to go to a special facility. Only one location. Very experimental. Maybe someday, though. Maybe someday.\" He whistled. The other bodymen began shedding their suit coats, revealing clear plastic molds in familiar geometric patterns.\n\n\"My codes...\" said Weymouth. \"The override... who did I...? You can't get away!\" he shrieked, hands suddenly shaking - partially with rage, but mostly with pure, unadulterated fear. \"You can't! The police will get you! I have powerful friends.\"\n\n\"Still?\" said Theodore, not turning back. \"And besides... good luck picking us out of a line-up.\"\n\nThey laughed. All of them. They laughed and walked away.\n\nThey even took the bird. \n\nCosta Weymouth was an important man. He had a mind for names, dates, and numbers - but just those things." ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 2, 20 ]	[ "1503884634", "1503903387", "1503954252", "1503890376", "1503888738" ]
[removed]	[WP] Mystery fog	1	[ "\nOff-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/6wila2/wp_mystery_fog/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1503916880", "1503917087" ]
	[WP] You are given a chance to alter history and save your four best friends who each died in a different tragic manner , but you can only choose one	1	[ "\nOff-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", "Jennifer wouldn't survive the overdose. And honestly, my best friend... As good a friend as she was, I don't know that any change I make could save her from herself. I can't save her. \n\nKyle hung himself. He couldn't handle it, and he made his decision. Even if I saved him, he'd never be happy, never be the same since the accident. \n\nMarcus was a father... and a friend... and has done so much for me... but if I saved him, then...\n\nJune. \n\n\"June.\" I state, choking back a cracked voice that I didn't expect and wiping a tear away from cold, dry, uncrying eyes. \n\nThe hood dipped, just once, almost imperceptibly. After a moment, I nearly repeated myself, but realized that I'd been heard when my vision began to swim. \n\nI watched June's old rust-pocked blue Takuro Spirit swerving around the rural road and immediately recognized the scene. I didn't want to see it happen, but closing my eyes only clarified it, shuttered away all else from my vision. June, in the driver seat, her jet black hair flicking merrily in the wind. This is Hess Road, approaching Winding Way... So she is moments from being ejected through the windshield. The corner... around the corner- my...\n\nMy hatchback comes around the corner. Too wide, too fast. I'm too tired. This is all because of my...\n\n...the crash looks and sounds unreal. Not at all like the movies. My car crunches hard with the sound of a thousand ceramic plates being dropped harshly onto some ethereal countertop and then a chorus of pings and hisses. Both cars, now one intertwined mess of steel and smoke, sit motionless in the southern lane. \n\nKyle is already crying. We knew he took it the hardest. \n\nJennifer made her way out of the back seat and just laid on the ground, right beside the door, rolling onto her side in a near-fetal position. The blood isn't hers. I'd be over in a few moments to pull her away from the car, out of the lane of traffic. \n\nMarcus never made it that far. The blood is his. He'd need three surgeries and a wheelchair for the last two years of his life, and then yet another accident will end it when one of his all-hand-control adapters work loose in his handicap-accessible minivan.\n\nAnd just like that, the click of June's seatbelt resounds through my senses, somehow my ears and eyes and fingertips all at once. She made it... she was wearing her seatbelt. But she wasn't, I remember. She begins to herd Jennifer out of the road, both hysterical. But I remember, I helped Jen to the grass. \n\nMy car sits motionless, and I try to see myself. Any moment now. The windows are opaque with spiderwebbed cracks and smoke and the dust from the air bag, but I remember being in the grass by this time. I remember. \n\n...of course.\n\nMy eyes open, the hood dips again, just once, in an identical nod. \n\nRight. " ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1503927420", "1503929899" ]
	[WP] The year is 1998, and a race of colossal robots land on Earth. They aren't here to invade, but to defend us from their creators.	50	[ "\nOff-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", "…They stood like a pantheon of twisted steel gods, towering in a humbling perfection that had been crafted by forges and smiths beyond the furthest stars. We had only just laid eyes upon their visage and we had already resigned to annihilation. We could not hope to resist against such beings, so bafflingly beyond us, and we so laughably behind them. They arrived like meteors, striking the Earth after tearing their way through our atmosphere, and had made their approach to population centers where they would be looked on as the first men looked upon a tidal wave or erupting volcano.\n\n\nThey spoke, as one, “Stand aside, out of danger.” I would’ve said we didn’t even hear them, had their collective utterance not been so rapturous to our frail ears. These machines, these gargantuan emissaries were not here as predators, but as a salvation. “Our makers are cruel, their wills harsh. We would stand as a vigil when they turn their gazes upon this world. Flee.” They would repeat their message often. It took little time for us to take heed. Humanity would act as rats, scurrying underground and in the crevices of the doomed world until the day came when the unmakers arrived to greet their children.\n\n\nIt was so loud. The scream from the void as it was ripped asunder letting loose thousands and more creatures from a child’s nightmare. “Stand aside, out of danger.” Our gods echoed out one last time. Like oil slicks with a will of their own they swarmed through the sky at the colossi, threatening to smother them had they lungs to breath. The screaming hadn’t stopped, and neither had the flow from the deep beyond in our night sky. Through the shrieking of the sunder, a sickening sound could be heard, the shaky roars of our heroes falling. They were machines, yet they did not perish in silence, when they lost their struggles they screamed to be heard by all as a final urge to their brothers and sisters to struggle on in their stead. To hear a god quiver its last shout is to bear audible witness to true and unmatched despair.\n\n\nWe do not know how long the swarms blasphemed against our noble titans, our saviors, our gods. But eventually, the screaming of wounds in space and dying gods had waned. All was silent. Not before many of us had grown old. Not before the children had grown into adults. Not before the old world was washed away. The eldest had recanted the days the new gods arrived to us. But none of them would live to see the world the gods had left for us. When we broke the surface again, we saw them, lying like slain dragons with heaps of ash from burned heretics that came from the stars. Our gods saved us, and gave their own divine light to quell the blackness that would have swallowed our whole world in its belly. From these ashes, we will build a new world again, in their image and shape ourselves as they as well. Theirs was the path to godhood, not in creation, but in salvation. To make is easy, to break is easier, but to save something, to save a future of a whole world, is difficult. To us, those born into a broken world of ash and wreckage, it is divine.\n", "WARNING: This is the first time I did something like this, and I can assure you, it's terrible. Grammar mistakes plot holes, and really bad storywriting. \n\n\n\nGiant robots. From space. To save us.\nPeople didn't know what to think. Some found them trustworthy, while others were convimced that these creatures were about to destroy us all, hell, some even believed that it was just a big hoax. A lot has seen them all over the world, repeating the same message DO NOT WORRY. WE ARE HERE TO SAVE YOU over and over again, but maybe Jeremy was the only one who approached them. He was looking for answers. Why would they save us? why would they even care? this and a ton of other questions were in his head and he simply didn't understand. That's why he turned left that night. He wasn't in a hurry, since he was alone for quite a while now, and no one was working because of the crisis. He decided he had nothing to lose, and slowly approached the giant machine. As it noticed him, it slowly turned around and did a strange movement that Jeremy assumed was meant to greet him. DO NOT WORRY. WE ARE HERE TO SAVE YOU said the robot. Jeremy tried to calm down as he got closer and closer. The machine had a lot of weapons on it, and it was about five times the size of him. It kept repeating the same thing over and over which was starting to drive him nuts. \n-What are you saving us from? \nA screen appeared on the robot and two words on it: OUR CREATORS. \n-Why? Why would your creators make you to save us and then attack us? Or in the only other case, why would anyone in their right mind create something that can and will disobey them?\nThe robots voice suddenly changed to a vouce that made Jeremy shake unintentionally.\n-WRONG QUESTION\nHe began to run towards his car to drive home as fast as possible. The robot slowly turned back to its original position stating that it was here to save them. Jeremy was searching for his keys still shaking, when he suddenly saw a strange figure from the eye of his corner. His heart was beating twice as fast as usual, as he turned around. \n-Jeremy, am I right? -said the creature in an unsettling voice.- We have a lot to talk about..." ]	[ 1, 3, 11 ]	[ "1503930177", "1503988146", "1503951303" ]
	[WP] A lone explorer is wandering the galaxy, cataloging distant worlds. Tell me his story...	25	[ "\nOff-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 explorer had wandered endlessly, ceaselessly, for so many years that he had long since forgotten when or where his journey began.\n\nBut he remembered that he had a family. Brothers that he would never meet, young and old alike. And a mother that held no semblance of love for any of her children.\n\nHe took a step.\n\nDirt and dust shifted around his feet. His head swiveled, trying to make sense of this foreign landscape. Gazing upwards, he saw only a very familiar black, dotted by infinitesimal points of light. Some of those stars, he recognized. He had long since made note to stay away from them.\nThis world was small, cold, and uninhabited. That much was obvious from the very first moment the explorer had arrived. Gray, dull and sterile even as it grew from the size of a golf ball until the dullness consumed the explorer's entire field of vision.\n\nMovement in the distance caught the explorer's attention. Life, perhaps.\n\nThe notion seemed absurd, especially in a place like this, but far stranger things were possible, and on occasion had even been witnessed by this explorer. He moved closer, and soon realized that the figure was doing the same. Never one to care about potential dangers, he continued his approach. The figure grew larger, and its form began to distinguish itself from its monotone surroundings. The figure began to grow familiar.\nA pause. A moment of recognition first, and then a moment of realization. He was never meant to lay eyes upon his younger brother.\n\nThe explorer felt his body falling apart, life draining away with every passing second. He felt no fear, as the explorer had no mind of his own. Only purpose. A purpose that could only be fulfilled if he was in proper shape to do so. Any mistake meant that he deserved death. And it came very easily to this explorer, as it did to his countless older brothers.\n\nThe younger brother continued his journey in the elder's stead. His head swiveled, trying to make sense of this foreign landscape. He continued on for a time, and then returned to his vessel, eager to tell his mother about his travels.", "It was night, or as close to it as this planet would ever get. The solar system in which this planet resided orbited around a much larger, brighter star, which kept a good portion of the planet illuminated at all times. As a result, a large strip of the planet was desert, but the rest of the planet was teeming with life, the extra helping of solar energy boosting the flora far beyond the ranges that a typical planet would see.\n\nDellrac scanned the surface of the planet, his ship's sensors picking the signs of life aside from that of a typical plant. Most of the blips were low-level herbivores, with a healthy dosage of carnivores. It was a perfectly balanced ecosystem, this planet didn't seem to have much for sentient life, the world-mining rigs hadn't made it this far out from the galaxy's core. There were a few basic living systems set up, but that was typical with outlier planets: They tended to attract hermits and outcasts of society.\n\nDellrac's egg-shaped ship touched down smoothly, the landing claws finding purchase a few feet beneath the loam, attaching to massive tree roots. Now that he was at the planet itself, he could further analyze the composition of the atmosphere: it was safe for a being like himself to breath.\n\nHe powered up his biosuit, a hybrid of mechanical and biological engineering that latched onto his body and synchronized with the receptacles that went to his central nervous system. This suit would normally cost a fortune, but it had been a gift from a grateful world-leader.\n\nDellrac hopped out of the ship, the earth beneath his feet almost springy in its resiliency. He took in the forest around him, the towering trees near as high as some developed world's buildings. He breathed in the rich air, almost dizzy with the amount of oxygen after his voyage at bare-minimum levels. \n\nWhile from orbit the forest composition had appeared mostly green, here beneath the canopy it was a rainbow coalition of colors, bushes on one side a bright yellow color, and lush flowers on the other side ranged from a dark purple to a vibrant red.\n\nIt seemed that the nearby wildlife had been scared off by his landing, save for a few florescent birds that observed his actions from a safe distance. Dellrac inhaled deeply through his nose, shouldered his pack, and began a trek through the deepest recesses of the forest.\n\nHe hiked for hours, coming to a stop at last beside a river that turned into a waterfall. He walked up to the very edge, his toes naturally curling around the edge of the rock he stood on. He watched specks of the river turn into mist as it plunged over the side of the cliff face, a hypnotic vision that seemed to repeat itself forever.\n\nThis is it, he smiled. This is the world that will save us." ]	[ 1, 3, 8 ]	[ "1503936514", "1503972449", "1503939716" ]
[removed]	[WP] Victoria is the type of teenager everybody idolised in High School. Too bad she asked the genie to end the world, the callous b*tch	1	[ "\nOff-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/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6wnodh/wp_victoria_is_the_type_of_teenager_everybody/) \n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1503966734", "1503967156" ]
[deleted]	[WP] Write how you think the final fight with the Whitewalkers ends in Game of Thrones.	0	[ "\nOff-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 North is lost. Winterfell is holding but we cannot field a relief army, we don't have the men or supplies and the Kings road is blocked by heavy snows. The Night King's army was spotted marching past Riverun, we have maybe a week, at best before he is at the gates of Kings Landing and by then, it's all over.\"\n\nJon Snow's testimony rung through the audience chamber. Danaerys sat unmoved. Ser Davos looked tired and angry. The Hound was still limping from the earlier battle to escape the Night Kings envelopment. \n\n\"Your Grace. You have two Dragons, an army of Unsullied and the Dothraki Horde. They are still in the field in the Reach. If you give the order we can get them into position in two days maybe less--\"\n\n\"I will not come to the aide of Cersei Lannister. She has shown herself to be beyond reason, an breaker of promises and a murderer. She would watch us all fight and die just so she knows we are all dead.\"\n\n\"Your Grace. What about the millions of people in King's Landing. We have to do something...\"\n\n\"The Great War is lost, Jon Snow. We can sail for Mereen and regroup, perhaps wait out the winter and return with a greater force.\"\n\n\"Your Grace, there will be nothing left to return to, except ashes and the dead.\"\n\n\"We sail for Mereen at dawn.\"\n\nHer word was final. Jon Snow loved his Queen but knew that she was doing the right thing, deep down. Cersei would sacrifice them all before she herself died. Winter will pass, the dead may still walk the Earth but not in Essos. Not where the deserts rise and the hot winds blow.\n\n---------\n\nThe sun rises, and the Targaryen fleet is assembled at moorings in the port at Dragonstone. Its a bitterly cold morning and the frost clings to the sails and ropes, making a sailing mans life just that much more difficult. Dany looks ashore wistfully, wondering what might have been.\n\nThey are about to set sail, when a spotter relays a sighting of a Lannister ship, alone, approaching from the South. As it hoves into view, it becomes clear that it only has a small crew on board, and no weaponry. It docks, slings ropes ashore, and Jaime Lannister steps onto the icy boarding on the port wall.\n\n\"Ser Jaime. You have come alone?\"\n\n\"I have. I mean. I am alone.\"\n\n\"Do you have a message for me?\"\n\n\"Cersei is dead. She died giving birth. Her last words were...well, you know how she was.\"\n\nDany stood frozen to the spot. Tyrion looked ashen faced but also a glint of opportunity flickered across his visage. Jaime was grief stricken but not distraught. He hated his lover, his sister, for what she had done, they way she had cast him out without a second thought. \n\n\"Your Grace. We should sail for King's Landing immediately. We can land, disembark and be ready to defend the Red Keep before nightfall.\"\n\nDany just nodded. Tyrion did not seek for extra acknowledgement. They set sail for Kings Landing immediately. \n\nJaime found them in Dany's council room onboard her ship.\n\n\"If your going to defend the Red Keep, your going to have to deal with Ser Gregor first. He nearly killed me when I escaped, likely he is taking his orders from Qyburn now.\"\n\n\"We have two Dragons. He will burn. Just like Qyburn.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't advise it. Cersei, before she cast me out, she set a trap near the gatehouse. Wyldfyre. Hundreds of thousands of barrels. One errant flame and the whole city explodes.\"\n\n\"The Night King has a dragon. Vyserion. Not the biggest, but still formidable.\"\n\n\"The Night King has a dragon...that complicates matters. Do you have the Dragonglass from the mines?\"\n\n\"All of it. 6 ships, full to the hull. Spears, daggers, arrows.\"\n\n\"You plan to fight a pitched battle against a Dragon? I did that. It didn't go so well. Your Queen can attest to that. I have a better idea.\"\n\nDany looked quizically at Ser Jaime, but decided to hear him out.\n\n\"All of that Wyldfyre, it will go off like a charge, all at once. Dragonglass cannot be destroyed by fire, so, pile all of the Dragonglass infront of the city, aim it at the advancing army and set it off.\"\n\n\"You know, Kingslayer, that just might work. If we can get the Night King to reveal himself, we have a chance to shower that bastard in Dragonglass...\"" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1504006293", "1504009687" ]
[removed]	[WP] The sign said, "Donate in support of Hurricane Harvey!" Little did they know, every donation made the storm stronger.	1	[ "\nOff-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\nNo prompts referencing real world drama (including politics, recent tragedies) \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6wravp/wp_the_sign_said_donate_in_support_of_hurricane/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1504014311", "1504014332" ]
	[WP] A scientific experiment gone wrong causes a worldwide effect of ghostly afterimages of events that happened several months prior being seen playing out in realtime. Law enforcement quickly realises their opportunity to uncover the truth in a number of unsolved cases - but criminals do as well.	56	[ "\nOff-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 the shade of the oak tree, sipping a cold beer, I began to feel the first touch of doubt. Maybe he wouldn't be coming.\n\nI pushed the thought aside. He would be here... they always showed up. The experiment made sure of that.\n\n10 years ago, a scientific experiment had taken place at a covert laboratory in Oregon. Nobody really had all the details about what the researchers at that lab had been doing, and unfortunately, they never would... because the researchers responsible had destroyed their lab and all of their data shortly after their work had resulted in a catastrophic accident. \n\nAt first, it seemed there had been no consequences to their accident outside of the laboratory. But shortly afterwards, when the first solar flare erupted, the effects of their mistake became patently obvious. \n\nDepending on the magnitude of the flares, ghost images of past events began appearing. The stronger the flares were, the stronger the images were. And the further back the images went in time. \n\nAt first, we didn't know what they were. But after a few flares, someone put two and two together and realized what they were seeing. He'd seen his father... murdered three years prior... walking down the street into the alley he'd been stabbed in. And he saw the man who stabbed him, following him inside.\n\nThe first time, he'd screamed to his father to run, forgetting it was just a phantom image. Instead he watched his father die in front of him, just as he had died three years prior. \n\nThe second time, he had the presence of mind to record the whole thing on his cellphone and take it to the police.\n\nIt had taken seven years in court for it to go to a verdict before the Supreme Court. It was precedent-setting case law, and it was critical to get it right the first time. So they took their time.\n\nIn the end, the man was convicted on the evidence. The recording allowed them the chance to obtain a warrant to search his house. They found the trophy of the killing he had kept, along with multiple others. The man was sentenced to multiple consecutive life sentences, and was all but guaranteed to never see the outside of a cellblock again.\n\nIt had changed everything, forever. Including the decisions I had made in the past.\n\nWhen I had majored in history in university, my parents had told me I was wasting my life and should have picked a degree that would be more 'practical' in real life. \n\n'Nobody ever got rich being an historian,' my father would chide. \n\n'You'll die a pauper,' my mother lamented.\n\nBut they were wrong. \n\nMy degree not only imparted me with a good base knowledge of past American history, but it also taught me a much more valuable skillset: How to research historical events.\n\nSo I did. At first, I limited myself to recent events, no longer than ten years back. And I was successful in predicting the appearances of the ghosts.\n\nAfter finding and following the ghosts, several dozen of them led me to separate caches of money, jewelry, and other valuables from bank robberies, heists, and the like... all hidden over the country in various locations. After doing additional research, I went to areas where even larger-scale robberies took place, and followed those who committed them. Some of them didn't lead me to buried treasure, but some did. Enough that I made a very comfortable living off of it. \n\nNow, scientists had predicted a massive solar eruption. Larger than any that have come before. The energy from it should hit the Earth any second, and when it does... I'll be ready. I've found the exact GPS coordinates to ensure I get the best view of the event, and will be able to follow my subject to his hidden cache of cash.\n\nI can't wait to meet D.B. Cooper. Even if he doesn't know I'm there." ]	[ 1, 4 ]	[ "1504014543", "1504048149" ]
	[WP] She was making breakfast when it happened. One minute nobody was in the kitchen except her then with a flash, three armed men appeared.	8	[ "\nOff-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", "\"Valerie Stephens.\" \n\nA low moan escapes her lips. She tries turning her head, but the linoleum floor pressing against her cheekbone prevents it. Why is the floor there? \n\n\"Valerie Stephens.\" \n\nA hobnailed boot heel smashes against her hand, driving white-hot pain up her forearm and a breathless gasp from her chest. Her eyes spring open as the grinding pressure eases. \n\n\"Where is he. Where is your husband.\" \n\nBlinking blood away, she tries to look up, but the smooth cold muzzle of an automatic rifle pointed at her face blurs the familiar colors of her kitchen to nondescript blobs. The wielder, a black-clad form covered in paramilitary accessories, is insistently gesturing with it. That's right, it was this... person that smashed the rifle butt into her face. After the blinding flash, but before the kitchen went sideways. \n\n\"Your husband, Valerie. We're very pressed for time here.\" \n\nInarticulate noises escape her, before a sentence forms. \n\n\"H... he's gone. Two weeks ago, he's... gone.\" \n\nFresh pain rockets up her arm and she screams as the boot smashes down again. \n\n\"Valerie, this we know. Where has he gone? He was last seen right here, in this kitchen. A class four sapient trans-memetic manifestation emerged in this house. Where has he taken it?\" \n\nThe boot scrapes her bones together insistently as soundless panic races through her mind. \n\n\"I don't know! He called the dog-sitter and he took the car!! The police are looking for him, he's missing!!\" \n\nThe boot eases. \n\n\"Did he say anything to you before he left?\" \n\nShaking, she turns to face the balaclava-clad specter with the rifle. Tears fill her eyes. \n\n\"H-he called me... he said... 'We're enjoying this too much to come back. If you're required, we'll be in touch.' \" \n\nA racking sob chokes its way out. \n\n\"Who are you people? What happened to him??\" \n\nThe inky figure gestures to the other two, whispering quietly, pressing buttons on a small device. As a low whine fills the room, the figure kneels down to her eye level. \n\n\"Valerie, if he does come home, you should remember this alone: that isn't your husband anymore.\" \n\nWith a bright flash, the room is silent again. \n\n----------------- \n\nEdit, postscript: This continues a story I thought was finished. I wrote it several months ago, and the WP thread has since been archived. It involved a mysterious voice on the telephone. Props to OP for an outlet to continue this tale!", "[Warning: Violence, combat death.]\n\n\"Mama...?\"\n\nHer son's voice behind her. Frightened, controlled. That wasn't right.\n\nShe heard Pingping whimper. Choke. Go silent. That wasn't right either.\n\nHer son's breathing was shallow. Fearful. She thought she heard at least one other man's breathing behind the crackling of the fire.\n\nInvasion? she wondered. Or betrayal?\n\nShe set down the wooden tray, silently, keeping her hands on it. She took a deep breath.\n\n\"I beg your pardon, for I am undutiful to you,\" she said, regurgitating the formal phrases. \"You've caught me upon parental errands, and I could not show you our family's warmth.\" Family. She wondered whether the person behind her was family. \"You've done me a great favour bringing my son.\"\n\nSilence. The shuffle of clothing. There were at least two men, probably glancing at each other. Hands at the ready to draw their weapons.\n\n\"On the contrary, the fault is mine, Lady Koumei,\" said a smooth tenor voice. None she knew. Invasion, then. \"Without a forward messenger, I have intruded upon your good self this afternoon. Lady, my Lord has requested your immediate attendance.\"\n\nHe was at the doorway.\n\nShe didn't have her sword. Foolish, given rumours. It was too far, anyway. Two knives in her sleeves, one in her belt, and a thin short sword hidden in her robes. Could she throw quickly enough, accurately enough?\n\n\"To whom do I owe the honour of such a summons?\"\n\nSilence. They intended to keep it secret. She was not to die immediately, then, nor were they certain of her capture. Or perhaps of her future, whatever this lord had in mind.\n\nThen a woman's voice spoke. \"Lord Yuta, my lady.\" One of her guard... Xin Ran, she was called. The man grunted. Displeased.\n\nIt was betrayal, then. It seems her cousin Gugu, the Lord Yuta, was finally moving to take control of the clan. The family. What they once called a family.\n\n\"Please convey to my cousin the honour which I owe him,\" she said, \"for I cannot dutifully call upon him in conflict with my duty to my family today. Pingping, come here.\"\n\nShe heard her son whimper again. A movement.\n\nThe man spoke again. \"Lord Yuta impresses upon you the urgency of his summons.\" Summons, she noted. Not request. He was already asserting authority. \"Your son Liaoping will come with us. Please—\"\n\nShe stepped, her hand rushed into her sleeve, she turned. Threw her first knife at the voice. He lunged to the side, she lunged to the other side, another knife clattered onto the teapot behind her. Hand in sleeve, grabbed her second knife, Ran drew her short sword, a shadow moved in the corridor, Pingping ran away. She threw the knife at the man. Dove through the paper walls into the next room.\n\nThere was a yell and a crash.\n\nThree. Fuck. But maybe tight quarters would be to her advantage.\n\nWhere were her men? Dead? Bought off?\n\nShe drew her own short sword out of her robes, grabbing the knife in the same movement, and ran to the door. The sword was thin, flimsy, and had no guard to stay hidden, but it would have to do. She pushed the tip of her sword into the door, knife at the ready.\n\nPingping would run to see Lingling. Was she a threat? Or a trap?\n\nFuck.\n\nShe slammed the door open, threw the knife at the third man, rushed at him, stabbed upward into his heart. The other man, she saw, was lying on the floor. She stepped aside, put the third man between her and Ran, drew her sword to the side.\n\nRan turned toward her, in a middle guard. She levered the dead man's sword from his hand and shoved him at her. They both dodged around the man, the same direction, and she let her guard down, provoking Ran to attack.\n\nShe parried. Broke Ran's guard. Cut clean through her throat.\n\nThat had been predictable. They had sparred far too much during their childhood training.\n\nThe third man groaned, her knife through his eye. Not dead yet. She could get information out of him.\n\nIf that had been Yuta's plan, it was a foolish one. Capturing an assassin with three poorly trained soldiers was a poor call. But surely that wasn't all.\n\nHow much time did she have? Who could she still trust? No guards had rushed in to help her. Or them.\n\nWhat else was going on in her house?\n\nWas Pingping safe with Lingling? Was Lingling trustworthy?\n\nWhat other plans had Yuta set into motion?\n\nFuck. This wasn't good. She knew too little.\n\n...\n\nFuck.\n\nShe should move.\n\nPingping first.\n\n___\n\nAuthor's comments: This was a fairly rough, quick draft without much in the way of editing at all. I'm experimenting with setting atmosphere and character psychology through the use of narrative and rhythm, in this case in particular to convey the main character's anxiety, contrasted with her combat \"zone\" during the skirmish and her ability to assess the situation throughout, which speaks to her background and position. I also wanted to contrast her anxiety with the stiff formality demanded by the conversation in her culture (noting here that this is set in a fictional culture that is part of my wider worldbuilding project)." ]	[ 1, 2, 2 ]	[ "1504037868", "1504053617", "1504085617" ]
Inspired by [this comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/6x1egl/a_chunk_of_dirt_that_was_struck_by_lightning_and/dmcgdmj/) by /u/casualsax!	[WP] Imagine a younger species of man, one that didn't have their parents repeatedly tell them "Don't play with fire." How did the world end up?	187	[ "\nOff-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 man stood near a flame. It yelled and roared with heat and light. Courage overtook the man, and he challenged the fire, screeched at it, waved his hands about; the man plunged towards the fire, stopping just before it.\n\nThe heat overwhelmed the man and he stepped back. Sweat formed on his forehead; beads began to race down his face and then to his neck, and then down his chest and body. But the man stayed erect and confident, not wanting to back down.\n\nThe man collected himself, and when he was rested and good he screeched once more. Then again. Several times more. And again. The fire was still strong. The man became very angry, for he had met his match. \n\nThe man started to wonder and then fear - fear the fire wasn't his equal, the fire was his superior. Then he dropped to his knees and the man wept to the spirit of the fire.\n\nIn the midst of his prayer a strong wind formed. And the breeze of the wind killed the flame.", " I juggled the small ball of fire while my professor talked about how people had trouble controlling the elements in the second millennia. She went on to explain how we had then evolved over a millennia slowly learning the art of controlling the elements. First through machines, then bio-augmentation, then it had slowly started occurring to us naturally, like riding a bike. I stared at the ball of fire in my hands and wondered what it would've been like to get burnt. My friends that learnt to control other elements like water told me that it was kind of like a strong itching sensation.\n\n Suddenly we heard a loud bang!. Everyone paused and listened. No possible way, I thought. Then it happened again only louder this time. The Forsaken would never mount an attack against us, the biggest guild in North America. The ball of fire in my hands grew larger, to the size of a baseball. Then I made it hotter, burning blue at the core. The wall exploded, and in came Notsus Pishus, shadows whirling around him like writhing snakes.\n\nEveryone leapt out of there seats and there was silence. Notsus laughed and spoke \"I'm just here to make an offer, I harbor no ill will towards any of you.\" his voice came from every corner of the room. \"My offer extends to a couple of students in this room. Everyone who is specified class A and up may join me sometime for some tea and biscuits to listen to what I have to say to them about joining a guild I'm forming. You'll get your invitation soon enough I just thought I should appear in person, so as not to be rude.\" he exclaimed heartily. Screams and shouts broke out and our professor called up an icy wind. The dark aura around him formed into an old fashioned top hat which he tipped towards us. The wind hit him but he was already gone into the shadows. As we were ushered into the main guild hall I thought, I'm an S class manipulator.\n\nr/MaestroWrites for more when I do more. Just started thanks for the support!\n", "Of course it was stupid to play with fire. Even our younglings learned so after the fire’s first bite. But the elder’s looked on, smiling, as if we would soon learn the truth to such a curiosity. \n\n“You’ll understand when you need to,” they told us. “We hope it isn’t too late by then.”\n\nSo we kept at it, reaching through the flames only to feel that familiar bite. Most gave up, chalking this ritual up as a way to trust common sense. Others claimed it was to separate the suicidally dim from the at least smart enough not to kill themselves.\n\nThat’s where I belonged. The suicidally dim of course.\n\n---\n\nThe fire snapped up and nipped me. My hand shot back to my chest with another red welt. I no longer yelped when bitten. It only drew more attention to Serra, the girl who still played with fire. Unfortunately, nobody needed a voice to find me, they only needed to follow the smoke.\n\n“Serra.” The voice belonged to Michael. Back when we were younglings, we played together with the flames, but he grew out of it. “Please tell me you’re not still burning yourself.”\n\nThe bushes to my left moved and some more footsteps followed after Michael. I sighed. By himself, Michael was an okay guy, but as soon as you throw in anything else with a pulse, he completely changed. Especially toward me. Really, only toward me.\n\nOf the many theories regarding our village’s strange ritual, Michael was a believer of the one about the suicidally dim. It was a theory that I found myself believing too. And then every so often, it felt as if the flames would respond to my touch, like I was communicating to it. When all it did was burn me again, I truly felt like I was suicidally dim.\n\n “Are you stupid or do you just enjoy hurting yourself?” he asked, appearing from the shrubbery into the small clearing in the woods I had purposefully found to avoid him.\n\n“What’s it to you?” I snapped and returned my gaze to the flames.\n\n“I’m just curious if you’re the biggest idiot in the village or just a masochist.”\n\nHis two cronies chuckled and high-fived each other. They were stereotypical ax-wielders. So for them to understand a three syllable word, I nearly congratulated them. Michael trained in swords, though he lacked any of the nobility of most of our tribe’s swordsmen. It was obvious simply by the company he kept.\n\n“And you walked into the Forbidden Forest to find me. You in love or something?” I shot back.\n\nAll three of their mouths scrunched. \n\n“With you?” Michael rolled his eyes, glancing back at his friends. “The girl obsessed with flames, with hair as red as fire, and a temperament like it too.”\n\nI raised a brow. A four syllable word. He’s been reading. “And here I am, hiding out in the middle of a god damn forest and who shows up? I’m not sure I’m the one obsessed here.”\n\nMichael burned a bright red and flicked his eyes to the ground. “The elders told me to get you. We’re not allowed in the forbidden forest.”\n\nA lie. His two human laugh tracks might’ve missed it, but I’ve known this kid since birth.\n\nMy lips spread into a smirk. “You scared of a few beasts? Perhaps Nana’s stories are getting to you. Think The Hunters will come get us?”\n\nThey were the forest’s Boogie Men, shadows that stalked the Forbidden Forests with ravenous dogs darker than the deepest night. As their name implied, they hunted anything that moved within the forest. One day, they would finish hunting everything inside the forest and move onto us.\n\n“I’m not scared!” he declared.\n\nMy smile grew. I had him. “Then you’re worried. For little ol’ me?”\n\nHis fists clenched. He opened his mouth but only got through the first syllable, but cutting himself off. “You’re insane!” he finally shouted. “Play with your fire you stupid fire-girl.” He turned and disappeared back into the shrubbery.\n\nI watched him go, the entire time smiling at his back. When he disappeared, so did my smile. Once again, it was just me and the flames. It crackled to comfort me. Or because it was a fire and that’s what fire sometimes did and I was truly an idiot for believing otherwise. I clenched my own fists. Would the elders really watch us all burn ourselves for no reason whatsoever?\n\nNo way. They had to have a reason. I just needed to find it.\n\n---\n\nThe forest darkened and the shadows stretched. I looked up from the flames and saw that the sky had turned into a purple haze. Another day spent playing with fire and I was no close to the truth than eight years ago, which accounted for half my life.\n\nI was just about to put out the flames when a shrill howl echoed through the forest. My back immediately straightened and I looked toward the noise. All I saw were more trees and shadows. Somehow, between me looking down at the flames and the howling, the sky had completely darkened, enveloping me in a blackness battled only by my fire.\n\nAnother howl answered the previous one, this one ear-splitting. I plugged my ears and twisted toward it only for another to answer, right behind me. One by one, howls sounded from all around. Then, silence.\n\nA chilling breeze blew past me, whisking the flames in a small dance. It sounded the only noise beside my pounding heart.\n\n“Michael?” I whispered with stuttered breath. If this was a prank, I was going to kill him. I dearly wished this was a prank.\n\nA figure stepped out of the overgrowth, but none of the bushes moved. It looked like a human shadow, standing on its own. Even stepping up to the fire did not reveal it from the darkness. By its side trotted a dog the size of a wolf with eyes red as blood. It growled and a chorus of baritone growls followed suit.\n\n“Michael?” I tried again, though I already knew my fate. \n\n“Serra!” the bush’s rattled and Michael popped out, sword already mid-swing. Silver flashed and The Hunter disappeared, leaving only his hound behind.\n\nMichael snuck a look back and illuminated by the flames, I saw the furtive glance he had given me since our days as a youngling. Of course, only now did I recognize it. Worry. He really did follow me into the Forest because of it and now, he was trapped by The Hunters because of it.\n\nThe beast growled and pounced. Michael caught its teeth with his blade. It snapped at the sword, grinding its fangs into steel. He wrestled his sword out of its grip and kicked it back. It hit the ground and rolled back up, unfazed.\n\nThe rest of the hounds stepped out of the shrubbery. I counted four plus the one Michael was facing.\n\n“Serra,” he said, slowly backing into me. “When I say so, run.”\n\nI nodded. The Hunters were mythical beings our heroes fought in fairytales with flaming swords. There was no way two teenagers could do anything but run.\n\n“Run!”\n\nI launched off the ground and ran. The dogs pounced. Somehow, none hit me. We were doing it, we were going to make it!\n\nI glanced backwards and found Michael standing beside the fire, his shirt tattered and ripped with claw marks. One arm dangled useless at his side while the other trembled with his sword. I dug my heels into the ground.\n\n“You’re kidding me,” I muttered. After all this time, and now he chooses to be noble. Now of all times!\n\nMy body moved on its own. My legs were pistons carrying me back toward him. It wasn’t as if I wanted to be a hero. Hell, I spent most my life being called the village’s biggest idiot. But an even bigger idiot was under my nose this entire time. Like hell I was letting him die.\n\n“Michael!” I shrieked and the flames responded. They roared to life and grew into an inferno, snapping at every shadow within their reach. “Michael!” I commanded. They responded and surrounded him. \n\nThe dogs yelped and ran away, leaving only me, the fire, and Michael clutching his arm in awe.\n\nI stopped in front of him, gasping for air. “You must be the biggest idiot in the village,” I told him.\n\nHe grinned back, wobbled backwards, and collapsed into the ground. Of course, every weapon The Hunter’s had was laced with their poison, including their dogs. And if the stories were true, that gave Michael about three more days to live.\n", "Boiwun gazed up at the enormous, white cone-shaped fruit hanging from the highest branch of the big tree. He stood directly beneath it, mouth open and tongue hanging down his chin, as the strange fruit dripped delicious warm golden goo into his mouth.\n\n\"Mmm,\" he said, smacking his lips succulently. \n\nHe liked that. Had no idea what it was, but he liked it. Boiwun decided he wanted to eat that fruit. \n\nNow the big question: how to obtain what Boiwun already thought of as goofruit. \n\nIt was up high. Real high. He didn't want to climb that high. But, for some reason, that was the only goofruit on the whole tree! \n\nBoiwun went down to the stream, grabbed a clothful of rocks, and went back to the goofruit tree. \n\nBoiwun tossed a large, flat rock up at the goofruit. The thought of aiming hadn't occurred to him yet. The rock hit the trunk of the tree, bounced off, and came back down on top of his head. \n\nBoiwun howled with pain, and slapped a hand to his throbbing head. Which, of course, only made it hurt worse. \n\nHe glared at the goofruit angrily. This was its fault. Stupid goofruit. \n\nHe tossed another rock up at the white dome, and this time the pulsing bump on his head encouraged him to throw with purpose. \n\nClunk\n\nThe rock had hit its mark! More goo dripped out as the strange fruit rocked back and forth. There was a loud humming now, and Boiwun saw little bugs circling the goofruit in the air. \n\nHe screamed at them. That was his goofruit! \n\nHe threw another rock, this time at the bugs. He couldn't tell if he hit any of the bugs, but he hit something. \n\nA moment later a stringy blue-green blur toppled out if the tree, and landed on the ground beside him. \n\n\"Gah!\" he shrieked upon realizing what it was. Danger squiggle! \n\nIt twisted and coiled and hissed at Boiwun, revealing its pink double-tongue. \n\n\"Gah!\" Boiwun shouted again and threw a rock at the danger squiggle. It missed, and now he was out of rocks. \n\nHe jumped on the big tree and began clawing his way up. He laughed victoriously, before he remembered that danger squiggles could climb trees, too. \n\nThe danger squiggle started squiggling around the tree behind him, snapping its long jaws. He climbed furiously, barely managing to outpace the slithering thing. As he got higher he could hear the humming getting louder.\n\nHe had forgotten all about the goofruit! \n\nHe climbed over to the side of the tree where the fruit hung. Thr bugs circling it were bigger than he thought, and colorful. They were orange and black like tigers. Weird little tigerflies. He stretched out over a branch, gripping the tree's trunk for support. He could almost reach it!\n\nA tigerfly landed on his nose. Searing, white hot pain shot through the front of his face. He screamed, his eyes watered, and he let go of the trunk. \n\nBoiwun fell out of the tree. \n\n-----\n\nBoiwun came home that night with a big gooseegg on his head, a swollen red nose, and a limp. \n\nHis brother, Boitu, indicated through a series of gestures and grunts that he looked like he had been in a fight with a monkey. \n\nBoiwun thought Boitu signed that he was a son of a monkey, and promptly punched him in the nose. The boys started fighting, so Ma took to them with a stick. \n\nDa came into camp holding something red and glowing on a stick, which captured. everyone's attention. He was smiling. He gestured for his family to make a pile of wood and sticks. When they did, he put the glowing end of the stick to the pile, and it also turned red and glowing and hot. \n\nMagic! \n\nIt was magic. Da got the magic from their neighbor, Krum.\n\n\"Fire!\" he half-shouted and pointed at the glowing red magic, which was now producing a black mist.\n\n\"Ooh. Fire!\" the boys chanted in unison. \n\nThen, Da did something crazy. He held a leg of the hog Ma had butchered over the fire. He waited, and a delicious aroma filled the camp. After a few minutes he handed the leg to Ma. She took a bite and laughed, mouth full and hog juice running down her chin. She handed the leg to Boiwun, who took a bite, and then handed it to Boitu. They relished the taste of the juicy, warm hogmeat. \n\nThey started putting other things over the red-magic. \n\nDa held the rest of the hog over it, then handed it out to the others. Ma held a spear over it, when popped and melted and fell into the fire. The boys giggled with delight. Boiwun peed on the fire, and Ma yelled at him when it almost disappeared. Boitu put his ass on the fire, and then screamed and ran away. Da chuckled long and hard as Boitu ran in circles holding his bum. \n\nSuddenly, Boiwun had an idea. \n\nHe contemplated hiding this idea from his brother and keeping the goofruit for himself, but he decided it might be better to have an accomplice this time. \n\n-----\n\nThe next day, Boiwun and Boitu went to the big tree. \n\nBoiwun pointed up at the goofruit, identifying the enemy that had caused him such anguish. He spat up at his tormenter, which rose up into the air a foot or two, and then came back down on his forehead. He wiped away his own spit, grumbling. \n\nBoitu giggled at this and then approached the base of the tree. He was holding a stick with the red-magic (fire) on it. Boiwun joined him, and then they brought the glowing point of the stick to the base of the treetrunk. \n\nThe boys watched with glee as the fire raced up the tree like a danger squiggle, and gathered beneath the goofruit, ready to catch it when it fell. \n\nThe tree began to pop and hiss in protest, as the red-magic consumed branches and leaves. Suddenly, when the fire climbed a branch that was close to another tree, it jumped over to the other tree! Now the red-magic was quickly consuming both trees in a hot, angry feast. \n\nThe two boys were so fascinated by this that they forgot to catch the goofruit when it fell. It landed on the ground between them with a splat. They gathered the goo with both hands and shoved fistfuls of the stuff into their mouths as they danced around the angry tigerflies. They sucked their fingers and licked the sweet golden goo from hands. \n\nThen a firey branch fell next to Boiwun. Then another. Then a burning leaf landed on Boitu's arm and he howled with pain. \n\nThe boys looked around.\n\nThe red-magic was eating up all the trees! Thick blackmist began to fill the forest like fog. All around them, trees were red-hot and falling apart. \n\nThey ran back to camp. When the got there they looked back to see the world burning around them. ", "The Blackfoot Tribe\n\nThe fire crackled in the blackfoot leader's pit, lighting the night with angry flames. The youngling squirmed and wriggled in the hands of the warriors, who held him down. They sang a guttural song for him, to soothe his nerves, to calm his fright. For this was the day of him becoming a man.\n\n\"The fire gives, the fire takes.\", the blackfoot leader roared over their song.\n\n\"May it give us warmth and burn our enemies.\", the tribes people echoed his prayer from many throats.\n\n\"May the flame burn ever brightly!\", the leader ended the prayer and the crowd responded by humming \"Mmmmmh\"\n\n\"You! Youngling. This is the day of your ascension.\" The leader walked over, the pit of fire standing between him and the boy.\n\n\"But you first must take the test of the flame.\", he said and threw something in the flames to entice them to burn higher and more fiercely.\n\n\"I ask you: Are you ready?\"\n\n\"Yes!\", the boy screamed with all force he could muster, while his face was a grimace of fear.\n\n\"I ask you: Is he ready?\", the leader asked the people of the tribe, men and women, old and young, who stood around the fire to welcome a new adult member to their society.\n\n\"Yes!\", they said.\n\n\"Then you shall take the test of the flame.\", the leader announced.\n\nThe youngling fidgeted around, but the warriors pressed something on his lips, that was lit by fire on the other end, and forced him to inhale. The boy erupted in violent coughs, but his limbs calmed down. Slowly, they inched him closer to the fire, until his feet almost touched it.\n\n\"Begin!\", the leader shouted.\n\nLike in trance, the boy stretched his feet into the fire. Flames started to dance around his toes and the smell of searing flesh spread across the clearing. His skin started to crack open, where the fire touched it. At first, the boy endured the pain, but then he screamed from it and tried to pull his feet back, but the warriors held him in place and sang their song to the fast beat of the drums.\n\nWhen they were finished, they pulled him from the fire. The boy's cries died down to a whimpering.\n\n\"Rise.\", the leader commanded and his warriors helped the youngling up. As he touched the sand on the ground with the blemished sole of his feet, he screamed from the pain again. The sand melted under his feet, fusing with the burned flesh.\n\n\"Now walk.\", the leader commanded again and pointed to a bed of coals, that the youngling was supposed to cross. The warriors let go of the boy; he had to do it alone. At first, it looked like, the boy would fall over instantly, but he regained his balance on his own.\n\nThe boy walked on the bed of coals, crying out from the pain at the bottom of his soles from time to time. But he mastered it, falling into the arms of his new brothers and sisters, who welcomed him into adulthood with a smile.\n\n\"Now you are one of us! May the flame burn ever brightly for you!\", the blackfoot leader announced and the whole tribe erupted into song and dance.\n\n\"How absolutely fascinating!\", Professor Heynes uterred, as his captors had joined the rest of the tribe in celebration.\n\n\"Seems stupid to me. They're literally burning their feet. Poor boy never gonna take a walk in his life without painkillers again.\", Lorren said next to him, but Lorren had never been one to appreciate the finer points of anthropology. He was more the adventurer type, more interested in women and not what culture they belonged to.\n\n\"Self mutilation is widespread among primitive tribes.\", Professor Heynes lectured him.\n\n\"Doesn't make it less stupid.\"\n\n\"We have to take a picture of it as soon as we can.\", the professor said, ignoring Lorren's comment.\n\n\"Anytime, Professor. Just cut me lose from these and I'll get right to it.\"\n\nThe professor looked from Lorren's tied up hands and feet to his own.\n\n\"Oh. Right. Maybe we can barter our release?\", the Professor suggested.\n\n\"With what?\"\n\n\"They seem to be invested a great deal into fire. Perhaps your box of matches could interest them?\"\n\n\"My box of matches? The whole place is practically on fire. I don't think they'd be too thrilled about lighting a tiny stick of wood. Besides, I left it in the camp.\", Lorren explained.\n\n\"Well, then we have to wait for the guide to come back with Yosemite and the others.\"\n\n\"If they don't burn us before in that fire of theirs, that is.\", \n\n\"What reason would they have for that?\", Professor Heynes asked.\n\n\"You're the anthropologist. You tell me, if they'd do something like that.\" Lorren shrugged.\n\n\"They probably would.\", the professor answered calmly, watching the tribe of fire lovers celebrate by dancing around the flames with these black feet of theirs.\n\n---\n\nIf an interest to read more stories like these has been kindled in you, head over to /r/M81atz, where all my stories are on the front burner." ]	[ 1, 1, 5, 7, 11, 44 ]	[ "1504126904", "1504135654", "1504133350", "1504134168", "1504133762", "1504132819" ]
	[WP] A crazed astronomer undergoes a quest to shut down the entire state's power grid, in an effort to force the population to behold, for the first time, the beauty of a starry night sky.	8,549	[ "\nOff-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 don't wrote full scripts but here's an overview. \n\nAstronomer has a monologue on why people need to see the nights sky. You consider him the protagonist. \n\nHe sets out to shut off all the city lights without killing anyone. He paints all the windows of the hospital black because they have a generator.\n\nHe has all the windows washers sent to a fake job in another city \n\nHe ties up the security guards of the electric plant. He turns off the connection to the city. \n\nHe looks into the city And all is black and he is excited.\n\nBut then light grows and grows. He must have missed backup generators at smaller businesses! He's angry now and smashes the control panel to the plant. He drives to the city bent on destroying every last generator. \n\nHe sees a man outside and screams at him to look up!\n\nHe gets into the city and realizes all the lights were candles as everyone is helping eachother out during the blackout. They are singing songs and stuff. He realizes hes some kind of nerdy grinch. His heart grows 3 sizes that day but the plant goes supercritical and everyone dies in a blast of light", "Hatred ravages the world. It's easy to hate when you have nothing to love. Since our humble beginnings as hunter gatherer tribes, we've been capable of destruction. With each subsequent year, each subsequent century, our capabilities only grew stronger. It was not long ago that the world reached its tipping point, the point where we had a chance, and chance to save ourselves from what we have become. But despite the marches, the chants, the pacts, the truces, this worlds beauty was destroyed. The Clathrate gun hypothesis became a theory no more. \n\nAmongst the constant pollution, the constant pointless political battles, and wars that we didn't even remember our reason for fighting, methane poured into our oceans and our atmosphere. %90 of marine life perished, climate change accelerated at a rate unprecedented. Within 30 years the world as we knew it had disappeared. \n\nAs the worlds greatest cities began to fall, either from flooding or social collapse, humanity began to push inland, condensing our populations to smaller and smaller areas. Instead of hundreds of culturally diverse cities and general peace among nations, intense nationalism began to build, the lights that once scattered the world began to converge into smaller areas as habitable land became scarce. \nMany countries fell into civil war, many collapsed, unrecognizable in their current state. The places that did survive had populations concentrated into dense super cities. In these locations, survival was the only goal. What progress had been made in science was naught. The affluent hung onto the capitalism of the past, their power in the past. They became the new leaders, and they wanted to control more than they wanted to progress. The earth's population has begun to forget what used to make life worth living. \n\nIn a ten-year span, suicide had surpassed lung disease as the world greatest killer. It started out with the rural cities that were slowly dying off as the food and resources ran out but quickly spread to the super cities. The people who remembered the past could no longer take this present. The suicides only began to taper off once those who had been born into this harsh world became the adult population, they knew of no other past. I was one of these kids, the so called starless generation. In our life times, we had never seen the stars. Most of us hadn't seen green. The only thing we knew was you had to work hard to survive, to make enough credits to feed yourself, to survive in this world of cement and metal and smog. But I was different. \n\nI was born to a man by the name of Adalbert Etoile Astrea. In his time he was an astronomer. A great one, in his prime. He used to tell me stories of his experiences amongst what he called the stars. He said that white circle in the sky was something called the moon, and people had walked on it. He told me that when he was a boy, you could look up and the sky would be littered in a dazzling display of tiny lights, uninterrupted by the terrestrial ones. He told me that the corporations and the government were working together to reach up into the sky with rockets and spacecraft to be amongst them before everything changed. He told me I'd be the one to change that; I was part of his plan. \n\nI told my few friends of my father's stories. And they told they're parents. They called my dad crazy. My anonymous said they had no idea, that I'd show them one day. For a long time, I didn't know what that meant. I didn't understand how I would be a part of his plan, how I was supposed to change the world, how I would show them that they didn't know what they were missing, they didn't know that there was still beauty in this universe, the stars were still out there, and I would show them. I know my father wasn't crazy, and I'm sure he wasn't the only one that knew of this miraculous past. Or maybe he was crazy because he was the only one crazy enough to make a plan to show the world. \n\nHe started me off young, right when I turned 16, working age. He got me into the power industry, at first, it was medial work. Engineers would tell me where there were leaky pipes and I would fix them. I came home every day covered in oil, smelling distinctly of gas. But my father convinced me to keep at it, one day I would be more. So I did keep at it. Eventually, I began to gain leadership in the powerhouses. The enormous power facilities that kept the super city running. I would oversee the engineers; I would make the decisions on how to best maintain the power in these places of forgotten hope. Long after my father died from black lung, I kept at it. I knew his plan. And I would carry it out; it was the only thing that kept me going, from not becoming another suicide. \n\nSoon after turning 35, after decades of hard work, I had achieved one of the highest ranks in the power facility, Regional Lead Operator. This position gave me power in this citie's power facility only out matched by the people who owned it. And it also gave me power to what my father had been planning all along, the main power grid. I knew I would have to bide my time however, the trust had to be built, they were watching. \n\nI was 43 when I realized I could no longer wait. The smog had done its damage. I was dying. But I had a task to carry out; it was time. The clearest nights are in the season that was used to be called autumn. The weather is good enough that heating or cooling isn't needed. Thus less smog enters the air. It was a windy night in this season when I knew the time had arrived, the smallest density of fog of the past year. The clearest night, only interrupted by artificial light. I acted. \nI showed the guard my security clearance and quickly walked through the dark halls towards one of the most closely watched rooms in the entire city. It was 1 am; the night sky was dark, it was to be darker. I slid my security card through about five security access point before I got to the mainframe door locked with an iris scanner and 26 digit passcode. I operated the door as fast as my fingers would allow me. The door was opened, and an alert was issued throughout the facility, I hoped the security wouldn't rush in, I was the Lead Operator after all. A computer terminal guarded the power; there were a lot of steps to completely black out this city, I had them memorized to a t. After only 20 seconds I had achieved the task that took my entire life to carry out. My fathers plan realized. The city was bathed in brilliant darkness, and I knew the world would see the bright stars that lie above. In seconds I was apprehended by the security force, I knew what was left of my life would be spent in a prison cell. \n\nI never got to see the stars. I went straight to a detention facility where I currently reside, only a few weeks left of life. I didn't get to see the starry sky my father so desperately wanted to be returned. But I know somewhere in my heart that what he was saying was true. I know that there is an unimaginable infinity of light in the night sky. And I know that, if only for a few moments, the city, the only world I knew, could see the heavens, and maybe hope again. ", "It's been 30 years since I started this insane plan. I already had my astronomy degree, so going back for another degree would be all right. Five years of study. Every co-op job planned, all at the same place. After graduation, the same company hired me. Ten years of field work, donuts, meetings, bad coffee, and cubicles. Volunteering to work every holiday. No family. Eventually an office. Then a corner office. They named me the head electrical engineer at the biggest power company in town. \n\nFinally, the perfect day. The skies were clear. The traffic was light. It was dark early and looks like the dinner hour was almost over. \n\n\"Everyone, it's Christmas Eve. Everything's automated, I'll stay here and keep an eye on everything. Go home.\" \n\nFinally.\n\nAlone. \n\nJust me and the controls -- anyone who could stop me was an hour away. The cursor blinked at my terminal. \"Yes,\" I said, \"I'm sure.\" Enter.\n\nThen back to my office, opening the hidden bar fridge. (Who said I didn't learn anything?) Champagne on the roof. \n\nI didn't see the sky again for another 3 years. It was supposed to be 5, but ... good behavior. ", "\"They used to call me a gunslinger, a crook, a hero, a war veteran.\" But all I wanted was my way, the sky's clear and a good smoke. Besides I only had one good eye. After New York and Escaping from, what was left of Los Angeles. I found my way out. The perfect payback for them covering up my shining stars. So I let them have it. Not just the pitiful country that was once the United States, but the whole world. I let the Cubans, and all those third world countries have a level playing ground. The hell did I care about the president his family or their misguided, belief in an ancient religion. This was my world now, dark no technology. Just man, nature and my stars. I left the old U.S. and made my way up to Canada to live out the rest of my days, in a nice log cabin. Me and some people I met along the way were going to make a go at it. After all if I could escape L.A. in one piece, rescue the president, out of New York; and escape Bangkok, Cincinatti I knew i could make it living simple. Besides who is going to look for old Snake in the Canadian rockies?", "It began before the new new. The sky pi s live in no time. They hold up our space and speak to us. The eastern smoke is blowing again and killing night is approaching. We need the message of the skypins now before we perish. I know this much", "We look up to the sky and see history. Like salt in a cast iron skillet. Stars illuminate the heavens, while the moon illuminates the earth. Er, the hemisphere that is experiencing the phenomena called 'nightime', that is.\n\nSecurity was easy enough to bypass, due to my federal credentials. Also, it seemed there are only another two guards walking the halls of the power plant. Just a handshake and proof of my N.A.S.A employment led me on my way. Simple enough.\n\nI found my way around the power plant just as well, getting to the main breaker room. A cartoonishly big handle that was labelled \"COUNTY POWER SWITCH\" stared at me. Admittedly, I salivated a wee-bit, knowing how mesmerizing this experience will be for the citizens of the area; to see the Milky Band. To witness the stars bounce, however unmoving they seem to us. With thoughts of serene parallax drifting to my blood-filled brain, I shook, too. Just a little tremor, though.\n\nI walked up to the switch, and pulled it down. That, like getting through security and finding the main breaker room, was near-effortless.\n\nAfter the switch was pulled down, the security monitors in the room began feeding me a video of Col. McIntyre. \n\n\"Bill. Come on. You thought that would work? You ever think about the traffic lights? The accidents? The radios the police would use to respond to those accidents? All the patients in the hospitals and palliative wings, relying on that power to survive?\"\n\n\"Yeah, uh. No...sir. I really didn't.\"\n\n\"Bill. Buddy. We got word of you doing this. It doesn't even make sense. It's nowhere near practical.\"\n\n\"Yeah. No. You're right, Bill.\"\n\n(Both our names are Bill, by the way).\n\n\"Alright. Bill, just go home. Have a good night. Say hi to your wife for me.\"\n\n\"Alrighty, Bill. You too.\"\n\nAnd so I left. And made my way home. I got out of my car and looked up. The moon was this beautiful orange, so huge and so bright. I smiled. I walked into my house and saw my wife. She was hooked up to her heart moniter. The irony hit me like an iron.\n\n\"Where have you been been, honey?\" \n\n\"Just out at the observatory, looking at the moon, sweetheart.\" \n\nShe smiled. I kept smiling, too.\n", "He thought if he could just show them, maybe they would understand. These backward philistine cretins needed to understand how awe inspiring the cosmos could be. He of course had already taken steps to make it happen. It's really quite amazing what one can accomplish on the internet these days, and where his limitations barred his progress a little money would encourage others to share his vision. Everything was set. At 12 midnight on new years eve the entire power grid in New York City would fail, and more than 2 million people would see the real night sky for the first time in their lives. Fortune was smiling on him, because it was forecasted to be a perfectly clear night, brisk in the early winter New York air.", "He thought if he could just show them, maybe they would understand. These backward philistine cretins needed to understand how awe inspiring the cosmos could be. He of course had already taken steps to make it happen. It's really quite amazing what one can accomplish on the internet these days, and where his limitations barred his progress a little money would encourage others to share his vision. Everything was set. At 12 midnight on new years eve the entire power grid in New York City would fail, and more than 2 million people would see the real night sky for the first time in their lives. Fortune was smiling on him, because it was forecasted to be a perfectly clear night, brisk in the early winter New York air.", "He thought if he could just show them, maybe they would understand. These backward philistine cretins needed to understand how awe inspiring the cosmos could be. He of course had already taken steps to make it happen. It's really quite amazing what one can accomplish on the internet these days, and where his limitations barred his progress a little money would encourage others to share his vision. Everything was set. At 12 midnight on new years eve the entire power grid in New York City would fail, and more than 2 million people would see the real night sky for the first time in their lives. Fortune was smiling on him, because it was forecasted to be a perfectly clear night, brisk in the early winter New York air.", "A Right Kind of Light\n\n\nIt wasn’t right, it was never right.\nAtop the summit’s height, my telescoped looking far beyond; the heavens before my very eyes.\n\nIt wasn’t right, it’s not right!\nThe lights, the color, the sense and the spirit they were all wrong!\n\nNone could see what I see here in this putrid place, corrupted and vile they filled their homes and cities with all man’s envy for that above; they copied it, then they replaced it.\nYet I’ve seen true; what wonderful things, truly wonderful, all seen serene high above.\n\nThere as a boy, upon moonlight hillock far beyond civility I saw it.\nMy dream. A dream to bring this to all who could not see, blind to that merely hidden above.\nI would remove the shroud, give them sight, that I intended.\n\nSo I begin my final step now. To return sight to all, bring about the wonder of the universe beyond. The heavens so bright, so beautiful... \nThe only light we’ll ever need.\n\nHow I’ve strained over the years, the setting sun all that remains to fall.\nHow I’ve anguished, suffered I spoke out, most a soul without a care or whim they could not see.\n\nThey had not seen, not all that I see no… They were blind; but I will change that here tonight, show them exactly what it means to see…\n\nBut not all were like them, blind and ignorant, knowing not the beauty of all that could be seen above no… There were others as me, drawn my suffering they came to my call; where there was one now there is many.\n\nBut not enough, never enough… Not until they see what I see no… Not enough, not enough yet…\n\nI bring them a new realm, a god from above I take their envy and their pride and make them humble!\nTo bow in it’s majesty, to realize just how small we truly are!\n\nFrom Higgins to Harry Allen, the true seeing await the dusk’s fall. Man’s envy of the light above to explode in a storm of triviality; their power’s homes to vanish in an instant.\n\nFrom Creech to Nellis we already control, the armament of man at our behest. The sky our own, their once jets deployed at our command, the land our own, heavy tracks and arms borne ready to protect our new realm to come.\n\nHere I stand before Hoover, the greatest instrument of their resistance secured at my whim I stand above it my eyes to the heavens.\nChange placed, charges set and ready spanning all man’s creations length. All I need is to hold the trigger prepared; I push us into a new age, a domain of our own. The heavens own.\nI press the trigger knowing that to come.\n\nTo give sight to all The Meadows, the City of Sin to sin no longer; they are subject to the heavens above.\n\nAnd this way it will stay, man’s envy never to return this we intend, this we will see true.\nOr die trying, beneath the most glorious lights above. The sight of the stars I return to man at the flick of single switch.\n\nThe night sky to be seen once more.\nSo I begin at last, the final step of my journey.\nThe starry night finally be just right.\n", "Succeeding in his mission, he basks in the glory of the stars and the space beyond. Unbeknownst to him, the hospital fails to provide power for those in intensive care. Over 1500 patients die from several state hospitals. The good will astronomer is apprehended and charged with over 1500 murders, is found guilty and executed by lethal injection. Fuck the stars. ", "I did the calculations. Lots of math, lots of weather-watching, and lots of not-particularly-legal blueprint-searching. I'd spent years - no, decades, now - searching for the perfect moment, the perfect timing for everything to come together in one grand display.\n\nAnd that moment was now.\n\nWell, not now now. Thursday, two and a half days from now. I had plenty of time to prepare. I grabbed my coveralls, slipped on a fake name badge, and climbed into the utility truck I had, uh, acquired. As I drove, I thought over my plan...\n\nAs civilization had expanded, so had their need for power. First it was power stations for cities, then for counties, then whole states. Now, the whole grid was linked. And if you screwed up a station here and a station there, you could start a whole chain reaction. This station goes down, so that station takes over, but it can't handle the sudden load, so it goes down too. If you take 'em out in the right order, they don't even have time to signal the other stations. Better yet, some of the stations overcompensate; they ramp up power, then have no place to dump it, and end up taking out other power stations. It's like a complicated ballet, only the dancers are caring handguns and C4. Lots of C4.\n\nDid I mention I may also have planted some devices of specific destruction?\n\nSo yeah. I'm going to turn the stars back on.\n\nThe sky is like a one-way mirror; it lets light through, but if you have too much light on your side, it looks like it just reflects it all. These days, all the fancy city lights drown out the stars. I haven't seen stars since I was a kid, and that wasn't any time recent. But kids these days... they're going to get a treat.\n\n---\n\nTwo days of prep. I didn't even need half of that; I was ready to go. Today, it was clear over 90% of the country. Perfect star watching weather.\n\nI sat back in my truck, just another guy in coveralls, and pushed the button. Click. Such a small noise, and yet...\n\nThe Main Street Station went first, just so I could see the other lights going out. I watched as a tidal wave of darkness spread out over the city; occasionally, lights would flare back up, then go dark as their backup generators went offline again. They'll figure out it was a virus in a couple days. Probably.\n\nFor a moment, I smiled into the darkness, then closed my eyes and tilted up my head. The first view of stars people hadn't seen in half a century... I sighed, happily, as I let my eyes drift open...\n\nThe stars glimmered in the darkness. There was... uh... hmm.\n\nI searched for familiar stars, but came up empty; I couldn't even find the Big Dipper! Confused, I craned my neck; where was the silvery band of the Milky Way? The familiar figures of the zodiac? What... what was going on?\n\nThe stars were wrong. The stars...\n\nWhere am I?", "/Hi reddit! this is my first post here. So I don't really know what I'm doing. I know this was posted a few days ago but I wrote a story for this prompt anyway, if anyone sees this haha. I haven't edited at all so I'm kinda nervous but here goes./\n\n-\n\n05: 47\n\nNight had seeped across the sky and into the jagged landscape of the city, but it was still not yet dark. The astronomer sat on the small balcony of his matchbox apartment, floating detachedly above the main body of the city. He had been sitting there since late afternoon, watching the sun fade and the smaller, uglier suns of this age of manufacturing reveal themselves on the ground far below his feet. It was a daily obsession. Each day he watched keenly for the dark to pool in: for the sharp points of the stars to reveal themselves, like a man waiting, reverent and devout, for his Gods to return to the earth. But each day he was left disappointed, and the bitterness in his stomach was murky and thick like the smog that drowned out the sky. This sunset, though, came with a sense of finality. He leaned on the flimsy railing and looked over and down, down to the ground.\n\nPeople swarmed in miniature. Formed patterns, scattered, met again. The harsh cry of someone wronged – the imploring broadcast of a poor baker – the loud laughter of a group of men – again and again, voices came. The persistent hum of engines, the music from shops or cars. No quiet. Lights sprung in every quiet corner, dazzling and distracting with their hot reds, cheap yellows, headache blues. And the smells: one moment, the sweet smell of egg custard tarts, which was then drowned out by the exhaust of a car, screeching away. An unwashed man, then a new age shop’s incense, then a hotel’s growing pile of garbage. The sour smell of burnt tires suddenly penetrated the air and the astronomer jerked backwards, into his apartment. He shut the sliding doors and dampened the noise, but the smell had already come in. His stomach turned and his mouth twisted. He strode deeper into his house.\n\nHere, it was dark, and cool, and the air was – if not fresh – at least as clean as it could be. He came to his favourite room, his place of comfort. Inside, after he closed the door, there was no light. He flicked the switch and on the ceiling, a complicated net of fairy lights flickered on. Up here, in this dark room above the city, the astronomer believed these lights were the closest thing the modern world had to stars, besides the sim shops. They were distant blue and white. Just like the real thing.\n\nAlong the walls were shelves, layered with books and equipment. Antique astronomy posters plastered every small space on the one plain wall. The astronomer stepped past the shelves and sat at his desk, swivelling to stare at the pictures. He leaned his head on his hands and closed his eyes. His foot tapped and his blood beat fast in his ears. Tonight was the night. All he could do now was wait.\n\n\n\n05: 13\n\nHis work wasn’t suspicious when he asked for the details of the power station. He was an engineer by day. It was his job to know these things. He waited until a few people had, at around the same time, complained of similar power issues, then got what he needed to.\n\n“I’m doing repairs,” he told them gruffly, and they never stopped him.\n\nHe had finally finished what he had begun, just a few hours before he sat in his room full of stars. He held the silver heart of the city in his hands. Now there was nothing anyone could do. All there was to do was wait.\n\n\n\n02: 26\n\nHis city wasn’t one that put much effort into pretending to care about any form of nature, but there was one place where he knew he could have both a view of the city, and of the uninterrupted sky. A few forgotten hilly fields lay on the banks of a concrete river, which cut through an especially industrial sector of the city.\nHe parked his car behind a hulking air conditioner factory, and sat quietly for a moment. He checked the clock. Two hours and twenty four minutes. His whole body seemed to buzz: his hands trembling and his very cells, the atoms they were made up of, vibrating.\n\nIn the shadow of the factory he felt small and unnoticeable; just another small person that made up the city. The city was completely indifferent to any one person – as long as it had enough people to consume and who would consume for it, it was beating and alive. The astronomer had grown to see the city as a creature, alive as any of the people inside it. Possibly more alive. Bones and ligaments became huge, heavy buildings, skyscrapers, and bridges. The flash of sun on every reflective surface, every sweeping pane of glass were its eyes, aware and awake. And the people present, flowing down from major highways to roads, trickling into side streets and alleyways, were the hot blood in its veins.\n\nIt was young and immortal, but the astronomer wanted it dead. Or at least dormant and quiet for a moment. It was so huge a being that it had taken away one thing essential to humanity, or at least humanity’s soul: the sky and the stars. The sky was the origin of beauty – without it, what were the people around him? How could they truly have perspective on their lives without knowing the face of the universe?\n\nHe stepped out of his car and locked it, bringing with him a blanket and a bag. Even around here, there were people, drinking at pubs or working shifts. There were always people, and there was never dark. He sighed. It was quiet at least, and high up, and he could see a long way across the still lit city.\n\nHe walked to find a suitable spot. The grass was long and tickled his hands, but on the hill near the edge of the river the land was mostly bald dirt. He lay out his blanket and sat. Out of his bag he pulled his digital camera, some takeaway dinner, a few candles and matches, and a book. The cover was worn and faded – before it had been his, it was his mother’s favourite as well – but ‘THE UNIVERSE’ could still be read in bold white letters.\n\nEating his dinner and reading, he waited.\n\n\n\nEdit: formatting + idk what the heck is happening", "\"So wait, all we have to do is screw with the state estimator a little bit, and the entire northeast will go down?\"\n \n\"Totally! They'll never even know. They'll blame it on a race condition or something\"\n \n\"Maybe we'll even see the northern lights... I've never seen the northern lights.\"\n \n\"This is august - you know that's wishful thinking. But maybe my kids will get to see the Milky Way over the house. I remember seeing that when I was a kid. It seemed like the world and the sky and everything was connected. Space didn't seem so far away anymore. You don't get that kind of connection under a streetlight.\"\n \n \n[True](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Northeast_blackout_of_2003)\n \n[Story](https://www.reddit.com/r/space/comments/4he2rf/picture_from_the_suburbs_in_toronto_canada_during/)", "This will probably get buried, I have been trying to get help for a few days. You see, when Josh shut down the power grid, I was responsible for bringing it back online. With all the redundancy in the system I was able to restore the power within a few minutes; it's possible that nobody even experienced a power drop. I had seen this kind of problem before and there was no reason at the time to suspect sabotage. Now it is all too clear how wrong I was; Josh came looking for me shortly after, and he put me here. There is no light pollution here at all, unless you count the trillions of stars which further envelop me as my eyes continue to adapt to the almost absolute darkness.\n", "You didn't know what happened the night before. You had gone to bed earlier for some reason. Maybe you just had a long day and decided to turn in early, or maybe you had to go somewhere early the next morning.\n\nOnce you've gotten your breakfast together, you decide to check out the news. Your TV comes on and you tune into the news station. A male anchor is on screen, speaking to the camera.\n\n\"...Local astronomer Michael Carter was found dead this morning. Police say that he was definitely responsible for last night's state wide outage. Bill Mathers now joins us live from where police found Michael, what's going on there Bill?\"\n\nThere's a brief delay as the camera switches over to the reporter.\n\n\"...Well Jim, we are here just outside of Michael's house-\" The camera pans over to a small suburban home. It looks fairly normal with it's beige exterior paint and white framed windows. Caution tape was over the front door and showed a police offer walking into the darkened hallway.\n\n\"Where the late astronomer was found dead this morning. Police have stated that this may be suicide by overdose. They found no external trauma, but they are not ruling anything out just yet.\"\n\nThe screen showed the anchor and reporter side by side now. The anchor, Jim, spoke, \"Is it true that Michael may have been responsible for last nights state wide power outage?\"\n\n\"..Yes Jim, police are saying that security footage from one of the main station shows Michael breaking into it. Police are currently unsure of how Michael managed to shut all the power down, even just for 10-15 minutes last night, for the whole state. That is still under investigation. Back to you in the studio.\"\n\nThe screen switched to only be the anchor now.\n\n\"Thanks Bill. Presid-\" The anchor was cut off as someone handed him a paper from off screen.\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen pardon the.. interruption, I've just been handed an urgent bulletin. Several other people, all possibly in connection to the Michael Mathers case have also been found dead in their home in the same circumstance.\" He looked to the side, before nodding slightly and turning back to the paper.\n\n\"It appears that each person was found in the same state, with phrases written around them. Phrases such as 'We saw', 'The lights protect us', and 'The Xanthous One rises.' The crime scenes are also being described as cult like. With attempts at some sort of ritual or worship having taken place in the room. While it appears that no one but those who have passed away where involved, police are not ruling out foul play just yet.\"\n\n...\n\n\"Police are stating that there may still be more people to be found in such a state. If anyone you know is missing or acting in an unusual manner, they are urging you to reach out to emergency services for help.\"", "As soon as his plan to shutdown the grid suceeded, the astronomer ran outside, just in time to see lights coming back on from backup generators. People coming out of their houses shining flash lights and smartphones to see what is going on. People turned on their car headlights to light the streets back up. As briefly as they appeared, the stars faded out again. \"Noooooooooooooooooooooooo\" shouted the mad astronomer.", "Haven't written in a while, but I miss it. So i figured I would finally try my hand at my first writing prompt. Please let me know what you think, and suggestions on how to improve. \n\nWe weren’t give much information on who we were after. Intel was pretty light, as our target had opted to stay off the grid for the better part of a year now. There were two small buildings that needed to be cleared before we could enter the main part of the plant, which is most likely where our target would be. As I glanced over the briefing one last time before we made our way in, I reminded myself of what we were getting ourselves into. \n\nIntelligent, mentally unstable, and a threat to society.\n\nJust another day in the office. \n\nI grabbed my M4 from the back of the van, and ran my hand over the pistol that adhered itself to my side. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to use either of these. \nBut I was ready. Just in case. \n\nThe door opened without a sound. I made my way in followed closely by the rest of my team. We were swift, and silent. Mere whispers alongside the loud hum emulating from the control room. The rooms were pitch black. Lit only by the flashlights from our scopes. \n“Room 1 clear.”\n“Room 2 clear.”\nWe quickly made our way to the second building. The door was open, and this time the interior was dimly lit by a single lamp in the middle. Drawings and maps littered the walls. Paintings of the North Star and what looked like every planet in our solar system littered the room. \n\nDefinitely not what I was expecting. \nI cautiously entered the room. \nAs we progressed through the desks and warn down office cubicles, the drawings began to multiply. There were hundreds of them, maybe even thousands. We didn’t really have time to count them. I continued making my way through the mess when something stopped me. \nA simple painting seemingly like the rest. \nBut this one was different. \nIt was.\nMe? \n“Boss, take a look at this.” I walked over to the area of interest and noticed that there were paintings of all 4 of us scattered among the ground. There were even paintings of us entering the very complex we now stood in. \nWhat is this?\n“Let’s keep moving.” I said, unsure of the words as they came out. \nWe made our way outside and moved cautiously. An elderly man was sitting down about half way down the grid. \nInteresting. \nHe made no signal of noticing us, so we continued to move closer to him. When we were a mere 10 paces away, his eyes opened. \n“Welcome my friends, we can begin.”\nHe pressed a button on what looked like a remote, dropped it and rose to his knees with his hands behind his back. The humming of the grid was replaced by complete silence. \nNo one moved.\nFor what now littered the night sky we hadn't seen in years. \nStars. \n", "Brent stood there, trembling, on the edge of wetting his pants. He was terrified and tired and so very, very* stupid, he thought. What had he been thinking?\n\nHe had never even held a gun before, but now he had it trained onto the three terrified men who sat before him in worn-out overalls and hardhats. And the one calm man in a business suit, a badge clipped to his lapel that displayed some alphabet soup of an agency's name on it; not EPA and not FBI, so it was one Brent had never heard of.\n\n\"You're being unreasonable, Mr. Haywood,\" the man said in a voice calculated to relax. It was like a fingernail scraped up the back of his spine. \"You can still get out of this with only a little jail time, and you can be back to your old life before you even realize it. Maybe you can get a book deal out of this, and, five years from now, you'll laugh about it all with your friends.\"\n\nThe doctors had given Brent two months. That was a month ago, and he could feel the cancer eating away at him, the same way it had eaten his mother in his last year of grad school. She had died, withered and pitiful, and he had resolved not to go out the same as her.\n\n\"It's a gift,\" He said--begged--hoping that the men would understand. \"Just for a bit. A few minutes. Long enough for people to know.\"\n\n\"But everyone needs this power, Mr. Haywood,\" the man continued, pouring words out with a calm that wore away at the hard edges of Brent's fear. He hadn't thought it would be this difficult when he started planning; it had never occurred to him, as he poured over hundreds of pages of documentation about how the Grand Coulee plant had replaced 98% of its staff with automated systems. Even when he had snuck onto the property three hours ago, the terror had only just started to grow.\n\nBut now, everything was covered in a white haze of all-consuming dread, and the only anchor he had in all of that was that last image of his mother's shriveled, cancer-eaten husk while the hospital's machine screamed its flatline drone and a single sob tore itself from his father's throat as the long year of suffering was finally capped by the indignity of death.\n\n\"Press. The. Button.\" The words came out of Brent like sobs of his own now, the gun shaky in his hand, but the distance close enough that a trigger pull would certainly end in a corpse.\n\nNot that he would pull the trigger; he wasn't even sure the safety on the pistol was off. He could never bring himself to kill a man right in front of him. Brent maintained no illusions of his own willingness, even at this desperate moment.\n\nHis mother's love of the night sky had been what guided Brent to his chosen career, away from the lights that had distracted his peers. Screens held little interest to him when compared to the vastness of the starscape that he had learned while camping in the ever-shrinking wilderness of America.\n\nAll he wanted was to share that wonder--to share his mother's passion--with the population of the Pacific Northwest.\n\nOne of the men reached out slowly, finger hovering. They had stalled as long as they could while disabling the safety functions, until the man in the suit had shown up, heralded by the whirring blades of a helicopter and the police booming at him through bullhorns. The man had approached, showing no fear of Brent's gun, and tried to talk him down.\n\nBut you can't talk down a dead man.\n\nThe hum of the generators slowed, leaving an aching silence in the white noise that Brent had stopped noticing, conspicuous now only in its absence. The sluice gates began to shut on the great dam; it would take the better part of a quarter-hour to safely reopen them, even if they started immediately. Not that it mattered.\n\nThe gun clattered to the floor, the three workers flinching away from it, but Brent was already sprinting, running, panting with an exhausted, near-sexual release as the tension flooded out of him. He half-slammed into the plexiglass window that comprised the office's western wall, face smashed up against it as he strained his eyes skyward.\n\nEven now, the lights in Grand Coulee and Electric City were blinking out, and soon the lights of Brewster and Ellensberg and Hood River would join them. A sweeping wave of darkness as the grid struggled at the sudden drought of power, automated systems rerouting what little energy was still limping into the grid, prioritizing hospitals and police stations and the stations where emergency vehicles were left to charge.\n\nAmerica's modern, computer-controlled infrastructure would make sure that nothing too terrible happened when the clawing reach of darkness found Seattle and Portland, or when it made it as far east as Bozeman.\n\n\"Look up,\" Brent whispered, tears stinging his eyes as he did so himself. He could feel the presence of the man in the suit coming up behind him.\n\nAnd there, brilliant and glorious, was the luminous wonderland of the starry s-\n\nSeveral stars winked out.\n\nSeveral more.\n\nThen dozens. Hundreds. Like a rolling blackout, a massive swath of the sky darkened, until the luminous tapestry of stars surrounded a square-sided patch of darkness that had to have dominated a tenth of the night overhead.\n\nBrent tried to say something, to ask, to shout, to beg. Nothing came as his knees weakened, making him slide towards the ground on trembling legs. Outside, the police had ceased their constant, megaphone-magnified squawking. Even they were transfixed by the sight of that illimitable blackness; ignorant as they were of what a true night should be, the wrongness of what loomed above was inescapable.\n\n\"Well,\" the agent said with only the slightest hint of resignation in his voice, \"You've gone and done it now.\"", "When I heard the mad astronomer\n\nWhen the proofs, the figures, failed to interest me\n\nWhen I went about my day without a thought for what's above,\n\nWhen I listened to him rant and pull out his hair \"but you've never even seen them!\"\n\nHow disinterested I was of his obsession\n\nTil the city lights went out at his hand\n\nIn the mystical moist night air, I finally understood\n\nHis love of the perfect silence of the stars\n\n\n\n\nEdit\n; formatting", "Yellow, brown, yellow, brown! It doesn't take a fucking genius to realize that the light pollution has obviously gotten out of hand. I dare you to look into the decaying night sky on a clear Chicago night, and attempt to see anything but yellow and brown. It's a stain on nature. A cloud over a cloudless city. Living in Chicago within itself is uptight, quick, and leaves little time for observation, and at the base level the inhabitants are already disregarding the beauty in the architecture. It doesn't come as much surprise that little to no attention is being payed to one of the most gorgeous sights an individual can rest their eyes upon, the ever unwinding cosmos. Sure, some may be terrified to rest their eyes upon the one sobering image that may immediately confirm in their little sycophantic minds that they are nothing, perhaps that reality check is needed. Years upon years of campaigning for some kind of light reform has given me a permanent migraine, having to sonically assault the ears of the drooling public has taken it's toll. It confounds me to even consider the minute possibility that maybe, just maybe, they don't fucking care. If that's the case, I'm going to make them fucking care if it's the last thing I do. \n\nNow of course being in the field of astronomy has it's many perks, like an cough cough appreciation for the marvelous BIG outside, the BIG outside of course being the \"unwinding cosmos\" or whatever pretentious bullshit I can spew out to try and get someone interested. Oh, I also know some people, who know some people and guess the fuck what, it seems like I have set in motion a plan of elaborate events that will make EVERYONE appreciate the BIG outside. I can't give away too many details right now of course, who ever wants to hear a spoiler? Do keep in mind this: soon you will begin to realize that there are two things that are out of your control; the ability to neglect the wonderous sights that could potentially be right before your very eyes, and the concept that you can't tune out a brilliant mind. Sit back, and step out into the BIG outside.", "\"Are uh... are 'y'all sure about that, Earnie?\" The portly man asked, giving his bearded chin a scratch. If someone were to put this fellow into a category, it would most certainly be \"redneck\". Of course, the man did not care much for labels or titles; he was taught very well by his mother (rest her peaceful soul) that the only titles a man had were the ones god gave to you.\n\nWhile the chubby electrician was certainly no fool, and he had years of experience in his field (it was a family tradition to fix things that the rich folks did not know needed to work), he was a bit worried about the plausibility of this job. He'd known Earnie for years, and had a lot of respect for the man; he'd done more for his family than anyone. But this one seemed a bit off. A little dangerous.\n\n\"Earnie, you can't just cut the power to the whole of San Antonio,\" the fat electrician chided, dabbing at his head with the strap on his overalls. \"It ain't gonna happen, even for a few minutes. There's people who need the lights at night. There will be accidents. What about the hospitals...\"\n\nEarnie sat up a bit and slammed his hand down on the table in front of him. \"Now, old friend, you know that there is a backup in place. I've known how it works decades less than you, and even I understand that. It'll be about two minutes before the power comes back, and there are backup generators for public service. You know...\" Earnie then broke into a coughing fit, but steadied himself, muttering about how the weather was awful here, before continuing, \"you know that the only danger is to your pride, and that's why you are so afraid.\"\n\nThe electrician, of course, realized that the danger was also to his job, and his family, and the rest of his existence outside of prison for manslaughter, but he said nothing. Earnie was a great friend, and he knew that. \"Just this once, old chap. I'll never ask again.\"\n\nHe realized that was probably true.\n\n----------------------------------------------------\n\nOur blue-collar hero set out on his certainly unheroic deed the next morning. He knew a lot of people in the business, and knew exactly who would help and who would ruin the plan, and adjusted his list of friends accordingly. He realized that Earnie would be of absolutely no help, but was pleasantly surprised when Earnie called in a few of his big-wig friends to help with the deed. \n\nThey were not without challenges. At least twice, our overall-wearing friend was found tampering with important electrical equipment on the main power grid, gear far above his pay grade. However, Earnie always had a backup plan, and through extreme countersuing measures (things that went against a good-old boys values, but they had to happen) his sabotage was kept secret. A month passed, and Earnie wondered if there would even be time to finish it.\n\nHope prevailed, however, as the chubby electrical engineer finally had re-routed, re-wired, and re-furnished his way to industrial espionage. With the flick of a giant switch, the power in the residential district of San Antonio would be dark... for a little bit.\n\nThe engineer took a quick look at his handiwork. It was a little past two in the morning, one of the least active times of the day. He hoped that there would be very little trouble with traffic. He had sort of went against the plan, and kept the business district lit up. While he didn't know a lot about how light worked (despite making it for forty years) he knew that going dark would cause a lot of problems, and hopes that it wouldn't pollute the starry sky too much.\n\nHe took a final glance at the switch, and gave Earnie a call. After a short bout of cursing for calling at such an hour(which he expected nowadays), Earnie finally calmed down enough to realize that the deed was to be done. \"Y... y'know, it ain't the end of the world, Earnie. There's a lot of... of other options.\" The electrician said, his voice giving way a bit towards the end. \"You've got a lot. Don't give up on it, pal.\" \n\nEarnie would only say, \"I'm tired. Get it over with.\"\n\nThe electrician sighed. He figured there was another reason behind this, something he was never told about. Probably tax fraud. He had a sneaking suspicion that Earnie was a criminal, but never said it out of respect. He had a lot of respect for him;he'd done more for his family than anyone else.\n\nHe wanted to say goodbye before he hung up,but knew Earnie would hate it. He wasn't a very emotional man. So he just told him to enjoy the stargazing, and let him go.\n\n----------------------------------------------------\n\nAbout a kilometer across town, Earnie looked happily out his bedside window. It was still the same bland darkness he had come to expect over the years, with the same view he had known since the diagnosis, at least that's what he thought. If Earnie was a hateful man, he'd have cursed his parents genes. But he didn't remember how to hate anyways.\n\nA moment later, the neighbor lost power. He heard them yell at their late-night LAN party being suddenly cancelled. He heard a car screech to a stop outside. He saw shadows suddenly running in the street. Around him, monotone beeping slowly drones into silence, and he suddenly felt very tired as the machine helping his body survive stopped.\n\nEarnie sat up in bed, the best he could, and looked out at the sky. It took a few agonizing moments before the first star showed itself. More began to come out of their blankets, showing themselves to the world. Suddenly, a cacophony of light, an opera of beauty filled the sky, light blues and whites being connected by celestial dust. A painter wiped his brush across the sky, and made a painting just for Earnie. He could hear the excitement outside as his awful neighbors went outside and took a look at the view. It made him smile, to see the next generation interested in something, just as he was when he was young and could still live.\n\n\nThis was how his nurse found him only a few minutes later, when his vitals signature came back on to a flat line and alerted the system. Smiling.", "\"Power's out.\" My father struck a match and lit another candle as he said this to me, as if I somehow wasn't aware already. I sighed.\n\n“Yeah, dad, I know.”\n\nHe dragged a wicker chair across the porch and sat down next to me. “They say some fella in Columbus did it. Something about seeing stars. I'd like to make him see stars, I've got meat thawing in the freezer because of him.”\n\n“I know, dad.” \n\nWe sat together on the porch in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.\n\n“I get it, though. It's nice to see the stars. Shame it's about to fuckin' rain for two weeks straight.”\n\n“I know, dad.” We looked up into the sky together, and saw nothing but the rain rolling over our awning. Inside our increasingly warm freezers, the meat continued to thaw. ", "There was once a crazed astronomer \n\nWho led an engineer astray \n\nFrom his duties at the electronomer \n\nHis plan failed, dismay! \n\nDay 2, he thought \n\na second chance at last \n\nto give the public a view \n\nof a night as clear as glass \n\nDay 3, behold, he exclaimed \n\nPointing to his telescope \n\nA magnificent instrument\n\nThat magnifies the stars \n\nNo one would join him, looking through it \n\nHe begged, he pleaded, \"That view is our's!\"\n\nDay 4, defeated, he packed his bags and left \n\nHe hoped that the sight of stars wouldn't be turned into a memory left to forget\n\nAs he climbed over mountains, northwards, looking for salvation\n\nHis face lit up in rejuvenation \n\nThe sight of lights dazzling from the heavens\n\nHe almost believed his eyes to lie \n\nWhen he saw how bright they shine \n\nHe knew the memory would never die. \n\n\n\n\n", "John checked his clock. It read 21:27. In just 3 minutes the group of hackers he had hired would shut down the power grid for the entire state of North Carolina. He just wished he could have done it for the entire United States, however their services were not coming cheap.\n\nJohn knew that lack of perspective was behind many of the worlds greatest issues; people being overly self-important and acting in selfish ways detrimental to others. A lack of unity and solidarity between neighbours, neighbouring nations and the human race as a whole. 'If only people would realise how insignificant we truly are, tiny organisms floating through a cold and stark but also beautiful universe' james had thought in the weeks prior. It was then that this plan started to form, this stroke of genius.\n\nHe had figured that if people were not willing to travel out of cities and witness the beauty of the great expanse above and gain the self perspective that he has, then he would have to take it to them. Sure, people had seen stars before and seen the moon but the true enormity of the universe can only be appreciated when the sky is truly filled with stars. Layers upon layers of stars, hundreds, thousands, millions.\n\nThe lights of john's apartment turned off, only the glow of the lit candles remained. The clock read 21:30. He had seen the night sky countless times but never had he been as excited to see it as he was now, reaching for the door handle to his balcony.\n\nHe turned the handle and flung open the door, ready and eager to share this phenomenal view with his fellow statesmen in their various towns and cities. As he looked up his jaw dropped at the sight before him. There was nothing but cloud.\n\n\n\n\nE: go easy on me, haven't done any creative writing in ages and wrote this on my phone on the train. Hope you enjoy it regardless ", "\"Astronomer here!\"\n\nI paused a minute, pondering the next words. The path I had taken to get here was crazy if you thought about it. Start posting astronomy comments on a message board. Gather a following. The following grew- thousands became tens of thousands, then hundreds of thousands and millions around the globe, conditioned to perk up at a catchphrase. From there it was easy- come meet her in person at AstroFest! Room for all and a great chance to rally behind science outreach!\n\n\"Astronomer here!\" I repeated, after the crowds in front of the podium calmed down. \"You know my love of the stars! But my friends, we are here in the shadow of The Enemy. Those against seeing the stars and truth for what they are! We are nothing in the universe, the stars will outlive us regardless of our problems on Earth!\"\n\nAnother roar from the crowd. It all came down to this moment. \"Astronomer here!\" I shouted again, hoping the reverberations in the sound system would send the subliminal signals appropriately. \"We must lead the way to solving these problems! We have gathered here in the shadow of The Enemy, beside the State power station, for a mission! Our course is true! We must blot them out and bring back the night!\"\n\nThe roar intensified, and the chants of \"astronomer here! astronomer here!\" let me know my mind control invention worked not only online, but in vocal recognition as well. The crowd moved from the festival grounds towards the State power station as if of their own accord, tearing at the fence and approaching the building. Once we had the power station, in the chaos dominated by only light from the beautiful shining stars above my army would stoke fear in the local government. Who controls the energy in a society controls its power. \n\nI smiled. \"ASTRONOMER HERE!\"", "\"Pass me the bottle,\" Martin asked, as they reached the top of the stairwell and stumbled out onto the terrace. Beneath them, the neon-night of the city sprawled into the distance.\n\n\"Why are we up here?\" asked Isabella, giggling a little as she raised the bottle to her lips. \n\n\"Because!\" said Martin, before taking first the bottle, then a long swig. He let the bubbles dance inside his mouth until they became flat. It might not be champagne, but it was the best someone like him could afford.\n\n\"What do you see, when you look up at the heavens, Izzy?\" he asked.\n\n\"Oh, not this again,\" she replied, playfully rolling her eyes.\n\n\"Come on. Humour me.\"\n\nShe bit her lip and looked up at the endless darkness. \"Well, there's the moon.\"\n\n\"And...\"\n\n\"And, nothing. There's nothing else up there, Martin. Just, the same as always.\"\n\nMartin sighed and sat down on the building's ledge, placing the bottle on the ground by his feet. \"There is something up there, you know. Our future.\"\n\nIsabella sat down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. \"I know, sweetheart.\"\n\n\"Did I ever tell you why I became an astronomer?\"\n\n\"I... I don't think so?\"\n\n\"When I was six years old,\" Martin began, \"I saw the stars for the first and final time. There had been a power cut where I lived.\"\n\n\"Power cut?\"\n\n\"Yes. There wasn't enough energy, I suppose, to keep the buildings lit. The city around me blinked twice, and then rested its eyes in the darkness.\"\n\n\"Sounds kinda scary.\"\n\nMartin smiled and draped an arm around Isabella. \"It wasn't scary, because the darkness had revealed something beautiful within it. The heavens.\"\n\nIsabella picked up the bottle and raised it to her lips. \"And... did you see God up there?\" she mocked. \"In the heavens?\"\n \n\"No, not God exactly... but the stars up there were so plentiful, it seemed to me that God must have knocked over a jar of sugar, spilling tiny, sweet crystals all over the heavens. I sat on top of the apartment roof for the next thirty minutes gazing open mouthed at the wonders that hung above - until the lights came back on, snuffing out the sky.\" \n\n\"Okay. I guess that sounds kind of romantic.\"\n\nMartin smiled. \"Yes. And it was thrilling, too. Some used to say that looking up at the stars only made you realise how insignificant you actually are. I didn't feel insignificant - I just felt... lucky.\"\n\n\"To see them?\"\n\n\"To be part of them.\"\n\nMartin hugged Isabella close to him; she snuggled into his coat, as harp-strings of moonlight bathed them in a pale glow.\n\n\"I wish I could have seen them,\" Isabella said.\n\nMartin nodded. \"As the stars above were extinguished, something inside of me was lit. Since that day, I've studied them through pictures taken back when the land had been something other than just a sprawling mass of endless cities.\"\n\n\"It must be frustrating for you. To know they're up there, but always just out of sight. \n\n\"Yes. It is. I've often thought of doing something - anything - just to see them again.\"\n\nFor a moment, they were both silent as the cool evening breeze brushed over them. Then, almost abruptly, Martin stood up and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, frayed box. He flipped it open.\n\n\"Will you, Izzy?\" he asked, falling onto one knee. \"Will you marry me?\"\n\nIsabella raised a hand to her mouth. \"Yes,\" she whispered through her fingers. Isabella shook as she took the ring from the case. There was a tiny click as it left the box, but she didn't notice. \"Yes,\" she repeated.\n\nA distant rumble ran through the air like far away thunder. The city around them blinked twice, and then rested its eyes in the darkness.\n\n\"What - what's going on?\" Isabella asked.\n\n\"Look above you,\" Martin instructed.\n\nIsabella gasped as tiny specks, like a scattered jar of sugar, began to appear in the sea of black. Her tears sparkled with starlight as Martin pulled her toward him, and gently pressed his lips against hers. \n\n---\n\nThanks for reading! I also wrote an unrelated dark scifi response for this prompt that most people seem to think was better - you can read that on /r/nickofnight\n " ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 11, 11, 32, 105, 105, 130, 1935 ]	[ "1504162788", "1504184211", "1504186285", "1504187576", "1504189133", "1504190610", "1504191887", "1504192764", "1504193196", "1504193853", "1504182839", "1504188146", "1504191927", "1504194043", "1504186416", "1504182098", "1504193995", "1504186436", "1504190847", "1504188740", "1504180562", "1504166518", "1504186248", "1504184108", "1504180171", "1504182059", "1504189183", "1504166265" ]
	[WP] A story about any two lyrics from Don McLean's song American Pie.	2	[ "\nOff-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", "Aaron felt a sharp pain in his chest as he pulled out his bandleader outfit for the last time. It didn’t help that the wounds of Mr. Halvern’s termination were still fresh. \n\nHe had come into class the day before dressed in drab browns and grays instead of his usual checkered button ups, smelling vaguely of spice and vanilla. He’d been crying. He peeled his hat off his balding head and wrung it in his hands as he told them that the school district had decided to terminate his position. \n\nBudget cuts, the word hung in the air like the foul stench of decay. Much of the class sat shocked, a few cried. And Mr. Halvern left before any sentimentality. \n\nLater that day, Principal Schtucky came to Aaron and asked that the band play at the last football game of the season. Then, feeling high, he told Aaron that the new athletic field house had been approved. \n\nHe turned to his classmates and cleared his throat. \n\n“Excuse me. Hey everyone.” The clang of tuning instruments and chatter died. “So before we do this, I just wanted to say that as a senior, I’m going to miss you guys. I’ve never been much into sports or anything like that, and band’s been all I’ve had. But I don’t feel like I’ve missed out. My best friends have come from band.” \n\nThe room swelled with cheers and saddened claps. Aaron raised an open palm and lowered it. \n\n“For non-seniors: don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. North High might only care about sports teams and fancy new facilities, but do you think that the athletes will play forever?”\n\nA ‘Hell no’ boomed from the back of the room. Aaron smiled. \n\n“That’s right. Hell no.” He paused. “ Now I don’t know why the school doesn’t think we’re worth it. So let’s show them why they’re wrong.” Aaron yelled to meet the meet the swell of cheers. \n\nShouts of “For Halvern” echoed throughout the room.\n\nAfter some minutes, rows of hats stood grid-like behind Aaron in the darkness of the concrete entrance tunnel. A whistle sounded and Vice Principal Jones signaled the go ahead. Aaron raised his baton high and his legion of red and white marched valiantly in lockstep behind him. \n\nTheir set was only scheduled for the 20 minutes during halftime. Around the eighteen minute mark Aaron turned to his band, a twinkle in his eye. One by one his leaders acknowledged, first brass, then percussion, and on. Aaron looked on to the tunnel to the growing anxiety of huddling shoulder pads. \n\nHis band went quiet. Aaron found Principal Schtucky’s face in the crowd. “For Halvern.” He turned and deftly swatted the stagnant air with his baton. The band broke out into their rendition of American Pie. \n\nThe players tried to take the field, \nBut the marching band refused to yield. \n", "Sarah tapped her foot in annoyance outside the movie theater. Where is he? She thought. We're going to be late for the movie. She tried his phone for the tenth time, and finally got an answer. \"Dave, where are you?\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" came from the voice on the phone.\n\n\"Our date... We were going to see a movie?\"\n\n\"Oh crap, was that tonight?\"\n\n\"Yes. I reminded you like 3 times today, too. How did you forget?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, I'll do better next time.\"\n\n\"You know what? It's the same excuse and the same promise every time. I'm done.\" The sound of the \"end call\" button was not as satisfying as slamming a phone into a receiver or closing a flip phone with purpose, but it'd have to do. \n\nThree weeks later and Sarah had so far successfully avoided running into Dave in the halls. She walked around a corner, spotted him next to her locker, and quickly backpedaled. Biding her time, she examined the poster for Senior Prom next month on the wall next to her. She felt a pang of sadness just looking at it; for the past year Sarah had assumed that she and Dave would be going together. A handsome boy pauses in front of her. \n\n\"Hey Sarah, what's up? Why are you standing here?\"\n\n\"Oh, no reason, Rob. Now what can I help you with?\"\n\n\"Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me this weekend. I hear you like movies.\"\n\n\"I'd love to!\" she exclaimed, beaming.\n\n\"Great! I have to get to class but I'll text you the details. See you then!\"\n\n\"Sounds good! See ya.\"\n\nShe turned the corner to her locker, which was thankfully lacking Dave this time. She noticed the note as she opened the little door. Another note asking for a second chance. At least it wasn't a flower this time. Those make me feel even guiltier. Sarah had been ignoring Dave's calls, texts, and social media messages so he'd resorted to physical methods. She forced herself not to read it- that wouldn't be fair to Rob. Besides, she'd moved on.\n\nThe date with Rob went spectacularly. There was another, and then another.... soon they were officially dating. He was attractive, the perfect gentleman, attentive... but there was still something that made Sarah hesitate. Stop overthinking, he's perfect! she told herself. I don't want to ruin this. \n\nBefore she knew it, Prom was upon her. Arm in arm, Sarah and Rob sauntered onto the dance floor. They danced and danced, until Rob left to get punch. Dave appeared out of nowhere at her side. \"May I have this dance?\" he asked.\n\n\"Um... Sure, I guess.\" Rob would be back any minute and would shoo him away for her, and it's not like it was against the law.\n\n\"So... how've you been?\" Sarah asked. \n\n\"I've been lonely. I've done a lot of thinking about what went wrong, how to fix my mistakes. I miss you a lot.\"\n\n\"I've been very happy with Rob,\" she said pointedly. Even as she said this, that old feeling rose up in her. Damn it, just stop, she cursed at her emotions.\n\n\"I'm glad to hear you're happy at least. That makes me happy.\" He glanced over her shoulder. \"It looks like your man is about to head back. I'll see you around, I guess.\" With that, he took his leave into the dense throng of teenagers.\n\n\"Miss me?\" Rob asked as he handed Sarah the plastic cup. \"Of course,\" she replied. \"Now let's get back to dancing!\" she exclaimed before gulping down the contents.\n\nEnd of the night, and the music switched off and the lights turned on. Rob and Sarah filtered out with the other last stragglers. In the car ride back, Rob seemed contemplative. \"What's wrong?\" Sarah asked.\n\n\"I... I don't think it's going to work out,\" he answered as he pulled onto her street. \n\nSarah's chest felt tight. \"But... why not? I thought we were going great.\"\n\n\"It's because you still want him. That's where your mind and heart are, not with me.\"\n\n\"Where is this coming from, Rob? Please, I don't understand,\" she wailed as tears filled her eyes.\n\n\"Well, I know that you're in love with him, 'cause I saw you dancing in the gym. Your eyes lit up, you seemed like you were walking on clouds, and you looked so happy. You're never like that around me. It's him you want to be with, not me.\"\n\nNow outside her house, Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but could not form an argument. She just closed her mouth again.\n\n\"That's what I thought,\" he said as she wordlessly climbed out of the car.\n\nShe laid in bed for hours and tossed that concept around her brain. Somewhere around 4 am she realized Rob was right. She texted Dave a quick, \"Are you up?\" He responded with a surprisingly fast \"Yeah, what's up?\" \"I'm coming over. See you in 10.\"\n\nDave heard the car door closed and rushed outside. \"What's going on?\" he asked, deservedly confused. \n\n\"Rob and I... we broke up. We broke up because... Well, because I love you.\"\n\n\"Oh Sarah... I love you too!\" He leaned forward and met her lips. They were so warm and inviting to Sarah, so comfortable. This feels right, she thought. This is where I belong." ]	[ 1, 3, 3 ]	[ "1504223014", "1504228405", "1504271645" ]
	[WP] While camping, you're awakened by a girls crying. Having made your way thru heavy brush you come to a clearing. A young girl has her face in her hands. You approach, she looks up and extends her hand. Placing your hand in hers she stops crying and says, "You shouldn't have done that."	3	[ "\nOff-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", "\"What?\" I asked as I tilted my head, not having understood a word the young girl said.\n\nWhat I didn't expect was her sudden recoil and frantic yelling in a language I couldn't make heads or tails of. It was clearly a language-- not psychotic yammering --but I'd never heard it before, which was saying something in this globally connected age.\n\n\"Whoa, whoa! I can't understand you. Are you alright?\" I enunciated and spoke slowly as I offered the girl my hand, but she didn't seem to see it. She seemed to look through me whenever she looked at me. \"I'm not going to hurt you. Do you need help?\"\n\n\"You...\" She panted out as she crouched low, \"You human?\" She spoke the weirdest Engrish I'd ever heard.\n\nShe was short, wore what I assumed to be a doeskin dress, but was barefoot. She had long brown hair, an olive complexion, and strange eyes. Far too angular to not be creepy, but a very pretty violet color. If this was a cosplay prank, it was spot on! They deserved the views.\n\n\"That's a silly question.\" I responded, \"Of course I'm human-- like you.\"\n\n\"No human.\" She said a word I couldn't replicate if I tried. Said it several times before pulling back her hair to reveal what looked like a hybrid of a classical elf ear while still being a protruding, solid mound of flesh.\n\nOh, extra points for this cosplay prank.\n\n\"No... hurt?\" She repeated in Engrish.\n\n\"No hurt.\" I parroted, offering my hand. \"Take hand.\"\n\nThat prompted her to look around, which resulted in her slapping herself across the cheek with my extended hand. She recoiled, then stammered before spurting out, \"No see.\" She waved her hand in front of her face, \"Always never.\"\n\nSo she was blind. Eh, whatever for her prank.\n\nI took her by the hand then lead her back to my camp. At least I had plenty of supplies. After all, that's what this trip was for! I'd stocked up on camping supplies and hadn't gone camping as much as I anticipated. It was time to use up everything before it hit its expiration. Bonus with my little garden's crops coming mature just in time. I was sure the camera and sound people would be just as thirsty and hungry.\n\nHer timid nature persisted until I'd fed her. That was a challenge! But who didn't love bacon? She sure loved it. She also got a kick out of grilled chicken sandwiches and the squash medley I'd made. Oddly, I'd never seen someone react so strongly to simple ground black peppercorns, either.\n\nI couldn't have paid her to shut up after eating.\n\nThe rapid-fire speaking returned, this time in that adorable Engrish. I could barely get a question in between her statements and stories. I managed to determine she thought I had been her brother, coming back to fetch her after tormenting her. He lead her far away into the wilderness, promising he'd found something to cure her blindness, only to knock the wind out of her and abandon her. Abandon her so that humans could kill and eat her.\n\nI think part of the threat involved rape, but her Engrish was too bad for me to be sure of it. I could have simply added that in myself due to her gesticulations. Damn, what a story for a prank!\n\nHer camera and sound crew never showed up, and she kept yammering away until she started having those sleepy-nods and her Engrish turned to mumbles. You know? When you were trying to stay awake, but failing at it? I cursed myself for not bringing a tent. Instead, I'd brought along a waterproof canopy and a hammock. The nice part about bobbleheaded, sleepy people was that they're very easy to coax into bed-- or hammock. I left her the hammock and sleeping bags, then made myself comfortable on the ground next to the hammock. At least I had the smouldering remains of the fire.\n\nThen the storm hit. A big ol' thunderstorm. That wasn't what woke me, a knee to my crotch followed by a bodyblow was what woke me. Miss YouTube Fame had woken in a panic at the thunderclap, then promptly rolled out of the hammock and onto me. I had never seen someone so scared of a thunderstorm before. It took quite a bit to calm her down and explain the driest, safest spot was back in the hammock.\n\nIt still involved me climbing into the hammock with her to get her back into it. I had thought I'd felt death grips before, but her hold on me was a true death grip. That wasn't acting, she was genuinely terrified of the storm. Not knowing what else to do, I pulled something out of my childhood-- something my mom used to do when I was sick or scared. I lightly rubbed the flat between the second and third knuckles of my index and second finger up and down either side of her spine and hummed a little song.\n\nAt some point she fell asleep, and so did I. Rain always put me to sleep.\n\nThe next morning, I woke up to a beautiful sunrise. A beautiful sunrise and a drooling girl, still tucked as tightly against me as she could manage. It was strange that her makeup hadn't run, nor had any of her prosthetics come loose or fallen off.\n\nI didn't fully realize the situation I was in until it dawned on me there still wasn't a camera or sound guy at the camp." ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1504242817", "1504270284" ]
	[WP] Each night for years you lucid dream your fantasy world you have created for yourself. You have interactions with people, but you know it isn't real. Slowly, you realize someone behaves outside your control.	8	[ "\nOff-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", "Joshua slumped down on the couch, letting out a heavy sigh. For a moment that felt like forever, he just sat there, eyes half-closed as he let his breathing settle into an even rhythm. He wanted desperately to go to sleep, to dream away the day. He wanted to go home, to a home that felt more real than this dreary existence ever would. The dream got him through every day – the promise of meaning to his life, the chance to take control and be what he wanted. He didn’t ask for much, in that. He had already played out all of his fantasies over the years, but there was one that he had returned to more and more to fill the void that felt so empty no matter how much he tried to fill it. Sometimes, he simply would fall into that couch and slip into the dream. Sometimes, he forgot to eat, he longed for this release so.\n\nBut not today. Kicking off his mud-caked shoes, Joshua slowly sat up and opened his eyes. His apartment lay in the half-light of rainy day fading into the night, that kind of light that gave no shadows and fuzzed the hard lines of the austere room. Laboriously, he got up and made himself eat a few bites of stale crackers that he had left out that morning. He worked the odd job here and there, and certainly could afford better, but every day it seemed that he cared for food less and less. Still half-heartedly chewing the last mouthful of crackers, Joshua settled back in on the couch, not bother to remove his rain-soaked coat.\n\nAlmost as soon as his eyes closed, they opened again to a bright, sunny room. This one was much different than the one he had fallen asleep in. Fully awake now – he never felt tired here – Joshua regarded his bedroom, chock full of bits and bobs that he would never have cared to cultivate out there. He turned over to his other side, he swept his love-filled gaze over the wife that he would never have in the real world. Always, she slept to his right, and every “morning,” he woke her up with a kiss.\n\nTo his shock, the bed was empty save for himself. In fact, the covers weren’t even thrown back to indicate that she had already gotten up. Momentary panic subsided quickly into acceptance. He had full control here; he must have decided that this was his own home, today. Or perhaps she was out on a business trip – yes, that must be it. She would be returning home any minute now, and he would greet her at the door.\n\nSo Joshua found himself at the door in his pajamas, hand on the knob to open the door and admit his lovely wife and surprise his kids as they watched the Saturday morning cartoons. But when the door swung open, Joshua did not reach for her hand; instead, he stared at the empty doorstep. He knew this was not what he wanted. This had never happened to him before. Whenever he wished for something, it had happened. He had wanted to win the lottery, and so he had despite having never bought a ticket. He wanted to be a king, and so he had a court full of loyal subjects as he sat resplendent upon a golden throne. He wanted a normal family that he could wake up to on a Saturday morning and spend a whole day with, blissfully soaking in their love for each other. That last fantasy, he had fallen into more and more often. It just felt more real than anything else. Night after night after night, he jumped into this day frozen in time so that he could live in it forever. It sometimes felt more real than his waking life. He would do different things with his family each day, but every day would start the same and end the same. Sometimes he felt a little trapped in this unreality of his own making. But the sheer joy he found in it quickly settled that unease every time that stray thought began to surface.\n\nHowever, today, he could find no way to suppress that feeling of unease. His thoughts kicked back to himself as he heard his wife say, “Oh, good morning, dear! Make sure you get those groceries today. And get the back door fixed, while you’re at it!” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek as she slipped past him through the doorway.\n\n“Wait!” called Joshua. “Where are you going?”\n\nShe stiffened and turned, a look of pure confusion on her face. “What do you mean? I’m going to work, just like every other Monday.” Seeing his blank gaze, she asked, “Are… are you feeling okay, honey? Maybe you should go see the doctor?”\n\nJoshua willed her back to him, almost surprised that he found her standing next to him. Feeling a little more sure that his control was returning, he murmured, “Why would you go to work on a Saturday? Let’s spend the day with our kids. I’m sure that would be more pleasant than going to the office.”\n\nShe returned a look of dismay. “Josh… I just said that it’s Monday. Seriously, are you feeling all right?” And like that, she snapped back to where she had been standing moments before, and walked out to the car waiting in the driveway. Joshua simply stood there as the sounds of the motor revving reached him and receded into the distance.\n\nHis mind was in a full panic, now. He simply couldn’t process what had just happened. It had been over thirty years ago that he had first found control over his dreams. For decades, he had found himself slipping into the dream every night, so much so that he found himself thinking of nothing other than it even in his waking hours. He felt like something had snapped inside of him, that he had lost a tie to the world that was his as soon as his wife turned away from him. As the skies above him clouded over and began to dump buckets of rain, Joshua continued to stand there on his doorstep, dripping wet and still as a statue. He couldn’t move, couldn’t so much as lift an arm, though he tried so desperately. He clung to his world for hours, not daring to let go. He felt an icy fear ripple up and down inside of himself. Fear that he had lost all control, yes; but, more than that, fear that he would never return. As he stood there for hours that felt like days, Joshua felt his will tire, his resolve weaken. He stood trapped in the shackles of his fear, in the prison of his mind. And yet he did not want to leave, even as his eyes began to close of an accord that seemed their own.\n\nJoshua’s eyes snapped open, body stiffening and adrenaline rushing through his veins. A squishing sound caught his ear, and he realized that he had left his damp coat on before he had fallen asleep. It was morning here, though a pale one, as the rain continued to hammer on his window. His body ached as he tried to push himself up, as if it had no strength left. His stomach felt like a pit, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. His eyes flicked back and forth as he tried to get his infirm body to move, as he poured all the strength he had into his efforts to rise to his feet. At first, his body refused to move, but slowly and painfully he clawed his way out of the couch. He stood there for a minute, regarding his empty room. Eventually, he turned, and like an automaton he returned to his daily routine, as if nothing had changed. And nothing really did. He went through his days, working his factory job, until he returned home, and when he got home, he immediately tried to get back to the dream, until the dream of returning became itself a dream. The traps we create for ourselves are, after all, the most inescapable of all. And so Joshua dreamed – not of what he wanted to do, or who he wanted to be, but of what he had lost, as the world continued to dream around him." ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1504244328", "1504253883" ]
	[WP] Write a child's history report on batman 50 years after batman disappeared.	9	[ "\nOff-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 Batman was an important figure in modern American history. He was first spotted in Gotham City in the year 1939, but quickly rose to fame after that. Some say he was an American version of Robin Hood, a british tale about a robber with a heart of gold. Others say he was more than that, he was the one true vigilante for his time. A hero who fought to save the streets from crime.\n\n---\n\n\"What's this?\" cackled the Thomas McQueen, pulling the plastic binder out of the black and yellow knapsack. \"My report on The Batman?\"\n\n\"Give that back!\" Martha yelled, trying to snatch the binder back. But the older boy held it just above her reach, laughing as she jumped. \"Give it back, Thomas, it's due today!\"\n\n\"Well, isn't that sad,\" Thomas said, tossing the report to his buddy. Jonas was even taller than Thomas, having hit a growth spurt in the last year that added six inches to his already impressive frame. Compared to the seventh grader, he seemed like a giant.\n\n\"Many have speculated on the Batman's true identity,\" Jonas read from the report, his voice artificially high, inflecting a lisp. \"Reports still disagree on the vigilante's true name, but cases have been made that the infamous Batman was a billionaire at the time, named Lex Luthor. Other cases have claimed he was a simple reporter, an disgruntled employee at Waynes Enterprises, or even an alien.\"\n\n\"Really Martha, you were going to submit an report about how Batman was an alien?\" Thomas sneered. \"We're doing you a favour here, really.\"\n\n\"No you're not!\" the girl yelled, still struggling to reach for the report. \"Give it back Jonas, this isn't funny!\"\n\n\"On the contrary,\" Thomas remarked. \"I find it hilarious. You make it sound like this guy was a real person, not some urban legend from 50 years ago.\"\n\nThe school bell rang, and the older boys laughter rang with it. They strolled off to class with the report, pausing just long enough to rip out half the pages and dump them in the trashbin. Long after the other students had shuffled off to class, Martha sat in the halfway, trying to smooth the wrinkles out of the torn pages.\n\n---\n\n\"How was class today?\" her mother asked when Helena dropped her bag at the doorstep.\n\n\"Awful,\" Martha replied. \"Like always.\"\n\nHer mother frowned, peering out of the kitchen with flour in her long black hair. \"Oh honey. Those boys won't tease you forever.\"\n\n\"Well they ruined my report today,\" Martha said, flopping down into a seat at the kitchen table. \"I didn't even get to hand it in, they wrecked it so badly.\"\n\n\"I'll call the school,\" her mother said. \"Let them know why you're handing it in late. In the meantime, why don't you go print it off again?\"\n\nThe girl stomped her way up the stairs, sitting down at the family computer. As the boot screen started up, a face poked into the room. \"Heard you were having trouble with those bullies again,\" her grandfather said.\n\n\"They're just so... Urggh!!!\" Martha replied. \"Why can't they just leave me alone?\"\n\n\"Bullies always prey on others,\" her grandfather said. \"It's something in their make-up. They'll do it until forced to stop.\"\n\n\"Well then why doesn't someone make them stop!?\" Martha shoved at the keyboard, angry tears rolling down her face.\n\nA sly smile crept across her grandfather's face. \"Maybe I should go down and teach them a lesson?\" He posed a few times like a ninja, making Martha smile in spite of herself.\n\n\"You, Grandpa? I don't think you could stop them. No offense.\"\n\n\"I'm wounded!\" he replied in jest. \"But if you like, I might be able to teach you a few tricks. Or maybe your mother could.\"\n\n\"I don't think mom knows how to do anything but call the school,\" Martha said. \"What I really need is Batman. He'd show those bullies some tricks.\"\n\nHer grandfather looked thoughtful. \"No, schoolyard bullies were always more of Superman's game. But if it's Batman you want...\"\n\nHe leaned in close, whispering in a low voice. \"Tell me Martha, have you ever snuck into your mother's walk in closet?\" The girl shook her head, and the grandfather continued. \"There's a button back there, hidden behind that green dress Helena never wears. Go push it some day.\"\n\nIt was another week before Martha got her chance. Sneaking into the closet while her mother grocery shopped, she pressed the round, red button.\n\nIn a hiss of smoke, the back wall slide away, revealing two black costumes, one with a yellow bat, and the other with a white cross.\n\n---\n\nFor some current stories about Batman, be sure to check out /r/DCFU!!", "We chased after him. Because he could take it, or so we thought. It's been years now since we've learned the truth, that batman fought to preserve the image of the incorruptible. Times are dark without our knight, but his lingering effects live on. He inspired hope, and gathered the best of what the citizens in Gotham had to offer. It's been fifty years now since we last saw the dark knight, and every night seems a little darker, but it's important to remember the man for what he stood up for, and what the standard he held himself to. He made us all want to be better people.\n\nIt is unknown who wore the infamous cowl, but it was a dream to see the caped crusader, coming to your side, and a nightmare for criminals. His work was brief, but stories are still told of his legacy, some so frightening, criminals won't dare to do their bidding under the cover of nightfall anymore. We have found relics, little pieces that show us, not just what the man stood up for, but who he was. There were various accidents throughout the years, often leaving remnants that shaped what we know of the man behind the mask. The engineering was impeccable. Unlike any technology we have even today. Batman, was either a genius, or wealthy beyond most of our dreams. We've built museums, often with nothing more than a scrap of his costume that was torn in some epic fight.\n\nBut as little as we know about Batman, we know even less about his most prevalent adversary, the Joker. It seemed anytime batman rose to the call, and ventured off towards the beckoning light, the joker was never far behind, ready to stir chaos, and read his ugly, painted head. We never did determine a motivation, and like batman, we never did determine his identity. So much of the duo remains a mystery, but perhaps we're looking at this all wrong. Like an author, Batman controlled what he wanted us to see. If he wanted us to find out his identity, he would have left clues. He wouldn't have rushed to make sure no blood was spilled that could trace his DNA. No, batman was mysterious in many ways, but his lessons were echoed clear as day. Justice. It's the reason he defended the great city of Gotham. He warned the worst that crimes will be met with justice, and promised relief to the good people of the world. He showed us to stand up for what we believe in. When we're faced with unthinkable adversity, batman never cowered away, he donned his suit and rose to the occasion. Batman never wanted us to think about him as a person. He may be dead now for all we know. Perhaps he's still out there, lurking the shadows, and thwarting criminals. He is the worlds greatest detective. He showed us never to submit to our fears, but rather instill ourselves, deep into the worst of the public's enemies. Batman is more than just the protector of the common man. Batman showed us all how to be the best person we can be, how to face the world and all that is wrong with it. The dark knight lives on within us. " ]	[ 1, 2, 3 ]	[ "1504289119", "1504294095", "1504289894" ]
	[WP] You wake up to a world void of music.	5	[ "\nOff-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 wake up to an alarm. Radio people. Chattering. Hm? Odd, you think, stretching your arms above your head, hearing those satisfying cracks in your shoulders. \n\nYou land your bare feet out of bed. The floor is cold. Shivers climb up your body. You change the channel of the radio automatically without a thought. Hm? You keep tuning it. Everyone sounds the same. What am I looking for? Confusion has you trapped in its claws.\n\nWhen you're ready, you eat breakfast opposite the television. An advert comes on. One that's missing something? You hear the voices talk. The product glows. But yet, yet it's empty.\n\nYou know it by now. Something's off. The news switches on. The headlines are told in a strange silence. Not quite a silence. But you can feel it to the core of your body. There is something you long for. The entertainment section bursts to life. But it's not what... I remember...\n\nYou look away from the television and look at the statue in the corner by your window. What is it called again? A violin stands. Untouched. Unloved. A piece of junk. Another dust collector. You cradle it in your arms for a second and move your finger across its strings, each one a different colour. And you almost expected something. But it's as expected: Nothing.\n\nOutside, you sit in your car and find yourself searching for an adaptor for your phone. For what? Listen to your calls out loud? No. Then you know you don't need it. Spotify. You look at the app. A selection of pointless arguments and speeches. You consider uninstalling it. But it's the only entertainment you have.\n\nWhen you walk around your workplace, the screaming crowd of callers sound dead inside. As you head to your desk, time feels like it is slipping away. And echoes sound. The distant beat of your heart. People, eyes dull. You carry on, the weight unbearable.\n\nLife has lost something. And you don't know what.\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1504314418", "1504318616" ]
	[WP] A family member passes away but gets revived miraculously by defibrillators a week later. You get five minutes to ask them any question you want about the time after death/how it was dying.	2	[ "\nOff-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", "\"Only six minutes?\"\n\n\"Five now.\" The doctor looked at his watch to confirm. \"Yeah, five minutes. I'll go ahead and leave you two to it.\"\n\nThe doctor stepped out of the room.\n\nThe young man sighed as he pulled up a chair right next to the woman laying down in the hospital bed. Her eyes were just barely open, and her breathing was slow and shaky. The young man, now teary-eyed, grabbed the woman's cold hand with two of his own. He felt a slow beat, but it wasn't much of a pulse.\n\n\"Kim...\" The man said, slowly regaining his composure. \"You were dead. You were dead for seven days.\"\n\n\"Yes, you're very observant, Jay.\"\n\nEven in half-death, Kim was a smart-ass. \n\n\"They bring you back to me and all we have is five minutes. This is such bullshit.\"\n\n\"Jay.\" Kim coughed. Her voice was raspy and soft. \"Would you rather these five minutes, or none at all? Let's just appreciate the time we have together for now, okay?\"\n\n\"Okay.\" Jay wiped the tears from his eyes. \"Well, at any rate—\"\n\n\"Do you want to know what it was like?\"\n\n\"What—\" Jay stuttered. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Being dead.\" Kim rolled over a bit to look outside to get those final few minutes of sunlight in her eyes. \"I can tell you what being dead is like.\"\n\nJay was silent. On one hand, is this really the best way to spend his last few moments with his newly-revived fiancée? On the other hand, he is undoubtedly curious about the afterlife.\n\nAfter all, who isn't?\n\n\"What was it like, Kim?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Kim coughed again. \"You know how they say right before you die, your life flashes before your very eyes?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Well, it wasn't really like that for me. Dying from leukemia is pretty slow and painful—\"\n\n\"Can we not talk about that, Kim?\" Jay didn't want to be reminded of her gruesome last moments. \"I remember how you died. Just—get to the afterlife part, please.\"\n\n\"My bad.\" Kim tried to form a smile, but her necrosed lips weren't having it. \"Well, I saw my whole entire life flash before my eyes after I died. Like, first everything went dark... and then there was this kind of cinematic that played memorable scenes from when I was a toddler, throughout college, and all the way up until you proposed to me—\"\n\nKim coughed more, and blood started coming out of her mouth. Jay got up in an attempt to go run and grab some toilet paper, but Kim signaled him to stay and listen.\n\n\"The cinematic sped by really quickly. After it was over, I found myself—well, it's really hard to explain. It's not going to make any sense to you. But it's as if my consciousness was floating around in an empty nothingness. I was fully aware. I was thinking. But my body was gone. All of my senses were gone. All I could do was think. My mind was simply existing in this empty plane for what felt like just a few minutes. You can imagine how surprised I was to wake up and find out that I had been dead for an entire week.\"\n\n\"So, you just—you were just a floating mind?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" Kim coughed again. \"Guess so. It felt like a really vivid dream, y'know?\"\n\n\"A dream...\" Jay was taken aback a bit. \"A dream where all you did was float around, but nothing interesting happened?\"\n\n\"Well, towards the end of it, something did happen. But I can't remember what happened for the life of me, Jay.\"\n\n\"Did it involve God? Or the Devil?\"\n\n\"It...\" Kim coughed. Her voice got quieter and quieter. Jay had to lean in close to her to even hear what she was saying. \"It... there was... big... blue star... it spoke to me... I remember... now... he said... or was it a she... he said...\"\n\nKim closed her eyes.\n\nJay shook her. \"What did he say, Kim?\"\n\nKim came back. \"Oh... Jay... he said... the blue star... it said to me... the... true... test... has just... begun...\"\n\n\"True test?!\"\n\n\"The real... journey... lies... in the great beyond...\"\n\nKim's eyes were closing slowly, and her lips trembling.\n\n\"Everything... right here... is just... an illusion... Jay...\"" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1504324632", "1504326772" ]
	[WP] A time traveler is permitted to make one change in the timeline. The caveat is that another change of equal severity and outside of the traveler's control will take place.	2	[ "\nOff-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", "LIFE IN THE VOID\n\nI pondered the consequences of whatever decision I might make. I was faced with likely the most important decision ever to be made.\n\nI could kill Adolf Hitler when he was a child, then potentially resurrect Ghangus Kahn. I could cause myself to never be faced with this decision, then lose my son. Also, I had to take into account temporal ethics. I couldn't influence innocent people, but then, who is innocent? The problem was, due to the nature of time travel, I would never know the difference after I had chosen.\n\nSitting in the chamber was as dull as it could get. A blank room, some railings, a chair, and me. No one to discuss the matter with. Just my thoughts and me. \n\n\"I could stop George Lucas from conceiving Star Wars thus making Trekkies live on unopposed,\" I thought to myself. \"But then Gene Roddebury might die before making it.\" I couldn't stop the rush of potential scenarios. It was like flipping through a book and hoping you would land at the climax.\n\nAt this point, I had made up my mind that whatever I changed should affect me positively, but affect everything else in a way that would only be slightly negative. Sounds easy enough.\n\nIt wasn't. What could I do! Give myself better grades but risk never meeting my love. Gain popularity but develop arthritis. I couldn't have known that I was thinking about this all wrong.\n\nIf I had only thought that maybe I was being selfish, maybe just considered doing something good for everyone else. If I ever get free and do this again, I'll be sure to correct myself.\n\n\"Alright computer, New Jersey, year 2189, August 19th, 11:30 AM. Put me somewhere in Trenton.\" I thought I would be easier to find than I was. I was a busy man then. As my body and chair left the chamber and were transferred to the place and time that I specified, my heart quickened. Could I do this? Now I know that I couldn't have.\n\nThe computer placed me somewhere behind an abandoned dentistry building. In this time period dentists were going out of business due to the advancements in dental science.\n\n\"Where are you,\" I said quietly to myself hoping that for some reason myself would hear me.\n\nIt took some time, but I found him.. I mean me. As I wheeled up to the construction site, I passed a sign that read \"Coming soon: Millennium Gate Trenton, NJ.\" I found myself on my lunch break, just as I new I'd be.\n\nWith a tremendous noise the crane's hook broke free from the wire and started free falling towards my unsuspecting past self. As I sat there watching it fall, I remembered the pain of it striking the back of my head, nearly missing my brain and sending me forever into this chair. You see, I'm paralyzed.\n\nI wheeled over as fast as I could, after all I didn't ecpect it to all happen so fast. With a fierce determination, I reached myself out to grab myself and pull myself to safety.\n\nThe instant I made the change, my past self began to warp and ripple. The crane hook, even the construction site began to ripple as well. I found myself removed from everything. I was awake and aware but I could not move. I tried to speak, but there was no medium for the waves I created. I had entered a void, incomprehensibly empty.\n\nI realized that in saving myself from being crippled, I cut myself off from experiencing non-paralysis. The universe got it's way after all. You may be able to change things, but you can't reap the benifits.\n\nI suppose there may be a version of myself that was saved by myself and lived on a perfectly normal life. Then again, he could have died later on by another cause. How could I know. My life, now and forever, will be lived out in\n\nTHE VOID\n\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1504330144", "1504333132" ]
Think of it as mad max with flowers :D	[WP] In the middle of the Wasteland, There is a flower that is said can grant people's wishes no matter how big or small it is. Many of the Greedy and the Hungry try to do what it takes to find it. Meanwhile on the front of your shack lies the flower blooming.	3	[ "\nOff-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", "\"HEY, FUCKER!\"\n\nI smashed my head on the ceiling as I awoke with a start. I grabbed my knife and rolled off the bed. Even with my vision still foggy, I could tell there wasn't anyone in my shack. Standing up, I tried to figure out where the voice came from. It was deep, like the howl of the night, eerie too. There wasn't a soul in sight, not even outside. The moon's light shined through a hole in the roof, lighting up the broken room. The same light shined like a spotlight onto the speaker.\n\n\"S'up, bitch. You wanna wish?\"\n\nIt had been a long time since I had any need to speak. It took a moment to clear the dust from my throat and think of the actual words to say, \"Wi... Wish? What wish?\" My beard was itching me the moment I spoke. Like I said, it had been a long time since I last spoke.\n\nThe small yellow flower wriggled through the floorboards. It looked like a flower, from what I had seen in pictures and tattered books. I had never actually seen a flower before. It was about what I expected it to be, except it was talking. I had been told flowers don't usually do that. It \"looked\" up at me, \"Yeah, man. I said any wish, whatchu want? I won't fuck you over, boy, I promise. You want women? Unlimited ammo? Water for life? Maybe a nice car that never runs out of gas? I dunno, man, I'm just a fuckin' flower.\"\n\nWish. I had one wish to try and save myself or maybe even live and not just survive. I had to be careful and choose something that could help me in the best way possible. There was only one real thing that I could think of... \"I want to be a wish flower.\"\n\nThe flower shook it's bud, \"Yeah, uh, no. Naw, I'm not doing that. See there's only ONE wish flower, me. Got it? Get this straight, me. Okay? There's a reason that I'm the only wish flower, because only I know how to make the best wishes.\" His voice stuttered. He was making it up, hiding something.\n\nI said the same thing, \"I want to be a wish flower, make it happen.\"\n\n\"Look, do you realize the repercussions of this?\" he was trying his convince me out of this wish. \"I'm talking this could have serious implements on your health, like you'd only eat sunlight. It's not that good, man. What if you just turned into a wish dude, like a genie! Oh shit, that'd be sick, you'd be a genie, without the bottle and shit though. Howzzat?\"\n\nI took my knife to the bottom of its roots, \"Wish. Flower. Now.\"\n\nThe flower was shaking and throwing its bud all around, \"Fine. You wanna be a wish flower? Fuckin' fine, man. You'll be a wish flower, but it's not gonna be fun so that's just peachy fuckin' keen.\"\n\nIn my experience of being a flower, I have learned one thing in my new existence... Sunlight tastes like shit." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1504350098", "1504382123" ]
	[WP] Every story in this prompt takes place in the same universe.	4	[ "\nOff-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", "Blog entry 1.0, 01-29-2043\n\nLiving on planet earth still has its perks despite polluted water and bigotry. It has my favorite superhero, Earthling.\n\nHe’s always on the news eliminating the threat and saving cats stuck in trees.\nDressed in brown spandex coupled with a hooded green cape, you wonder who is really under that blue mask. Does he have a day job? What inspires him?\nI decided to start a blog documenting his activities, as he is always in my city filled with skyscrapers and other tall commercial buildings. \n\nI did see him in person once, leaping from an apartment building to the local news building. Then he disappeared; later that night, it turns out he stopped a bank robbery! \n\nI began tracking criminal activity, as well, to see him in action more. I downloaded that one police app on my smartphone. It hasn’t worked so far, predicting where he’ll be next. One of these days, I’ll get a photo taken of him in action and have it on my blog. Then I’ll be a real journalist." ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1504397782", "1504402996" ]
	[WP] You're not always sad, but when you are, the whole world is here for you.	8	[ "\nOff-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 down on my bed. I couldn't believe the events that unfolded today. I loved her so much, and I never got the chance to tell her. I set my head down, and cried my heart out. I must have cried for a whole hour when all of a sudden, the notifications on my phone were going crazy. Millions of unknown numbers texting me, telling me everything was going to be okay. I started to feel better.\n\nEvery human being with a phone was comforting me, except for her. My mood quickly worsened, and I got out of bed. After walking around, I began to think. If only she could understand how I feel. If only she could suffer as much as I did. All those times she turned me down, all the rejection, all the anxiety. \n\nBut, what good would it do if I thought these hateful thoughts, accumulating into a physical manifestation of my own sorrow. I wiped my tears, and grabbed my phone. I sent out a mass text thanking the world for comforting me. In their various native languages, they responded, saying \"You're welcome\".\n\nI remembered all of my experiences with her. When we first met in class, how I always made her laugh, and all the times she made me more and more attracted to her. I decided I needed an outlet. I needed to channel all of my emotions into one activity.\n\nAnd so, I began to write.", "I stumbled into bed, tears streaming down my face, and a horrid feeling of emptiness sitting inside me.\n\n I heard my phone ring, but I didn't want to answer. _I don't want to hear their voices._ I thought. \"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR _YOU-_\" I screamed into the void, knowing they're listening, watching, ever so quietly. I could feel their eyes on me, their _breath_ down my neck. I huddle under my covers and shut my eyes. \n\n _Tomorrow's a new day._ I thought,as I lay in a ball, over a pillow now wet with tears. _And tonight will be over soon..._\n\n As I exit my home and walk into my porch, I find presents meant to appease me. As soon as I'm spotted, people crowd around me, drowning me in their kindness. I feel as if I were suffocating in a lagoon of undeserved love and affection. Their words were so kind and full of compassion.\n\n \"I'm not worthy.\" I mutter, silently to myself, but they still manage to hear.\n\n \"Of course you're worthy!\"\n\n \"All we do is for you!\"\n\n \"We just want you to be happy!\" \n\n I'm suddenly bombarded with words of assurance, of _love-_\n\n \"I don't deserve this.\" I said, out loud now, as I start to bawl. \n\n \"I don't deserve you!\"\n\n Now sobbing, I'm barely understandable. I tried to run home, to lock myself away and let all that is wrong in me rot, but they held me close.The warmth and comfort radiating from their souls and through their bodies finally made me break.\n\n \"I don't want to be a bother to you!\"\n\n \"You aren't.\"\n\n I sat, hugging myself as others hugged me as well. I felt tears drip from my chin to the ground as everyone tried to comfort me. I could hardly breathe, but couldn't stop crying.\n\n As soon as I could get up and brush away my tears, the crowd dissipates. Only few linger to give a final good bye. I look on with a calm, far away look, as I suddenly remember-\n\n \"Oh shit,\" I said. \"I'm late for work!\"" ]	[ 1, 2, 2 ]	[ "1504397938", "1504401232", "1504408136" ]
	[WP] You pick-up a hitchhiker and ask where to; they say they were told by angels to hitchhike and that they are now going wherever you are headed.	7	[ "\nOff-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 was about due for a nutbag, but this is terribly inconvenient timing.\n\nPeople who hitch rides are some of the most interesting people I’ve met. Even if they’re not in the middle of an extreme circumstance, or on some life-changing journey, most of them can at least hold a decent conversation. The majority of them have people skills. It’s worth playing the odds – they’re reasonable odds, you maybe get a nutbag one in five times. Unfortunately today is one of those times.\n\n“Angels, hey?” I reply to the well built young guy – maybe mid twenties – mousey brown curly hair, baggy jeans and jacket, tan boots. “Where did you meet them?”\n\nHe turns to look at me, staring for a second before pursing his lips in a smile, his eyes looking down as he lets out a breath and slumps his shoulders. “Yea, I know how that sounds. Sorry. Let’s just say they were… I dunno, they put off a good vibe.”\n\nMaybe I’d been too quick to judge. “I’m Mike,” I smile as I reach over with my right hand.\n\n“Quinn.” He gives my hand a firm shake.\n\n“So where are you hoping to get to, Quinn?”\n\n“Yea, ahh… Like I said, just wherever you’re going. I know it’s weird, sorry.”\n\n“All good,” I smile. It’s not all good, but for now it’s what I need. The job on the sports bar hadn’t gone as smoothly as planned. I’d added up the odds, and the odds for a big score were good. But unfortunately the odds had not gone my way, and I’d had to fire on the guard, so as far as I know I could be up for murder. Here I am, with a trunk full of cash, and the cops on the lookout for a white Taurus with a single driver. But I’m in a white Taurus with a driver and passenger – a passenger who would assumedly be willing to lie about where we’d come from, as hitch hiking carries heavy fines.\n\n“So, uh, where are we going?”\n\n“South,” I answer without thinking. “Just an hour or two.” I add. I don’t want this kid with me any longer than he has to be. I glance over. He’s sitting with his legs together, back straight, arms in his lap. He looks like he’s waiting in the school principal’s office. My curiosity gets the better of me. “So, tell me about these guys with the good vibe.”\n\nQuin’s jaw tightens. He pauses, before letting out a quick breath and shrugging. “Look, I just say dumb things from time to time,” he says, shaking his head, “I just needed a ride south, is all. Sorry.”\n\nShit. Before I fell it was forbidden to show yourself to the people of Earth, under any circumstances, let alone talk to them. I very, very much doubt that has changed in the last 200 odd years. But this kid has definitely seen something.\n\n“Hey kid,” I say in my best dad-voice, “I’ve actually seen a bit of strange stuff in my time. Tell me what you saw, it sounds interesting.”\n\nQuinn turns to me and smiles nervously like I’ve just tried to hit on him. Shit, this kid is overwhelmed. \n\nI breath in and let out a silent sigh. My gut is telling me to go against the odds on this one. “Did they have what you’d best describe as, like, a brilliant golden aura?”\n\nQuinn’s jolts his head to face me, his eyes so open they are almost round. He opens his mouth to speak, but stutters as if he can’t decide which question he want’s to ask.\n\nShit. I turn to face the road ahead. “Did they tell you specifically which car to flag down?”\n\nNo answer.\n\nI turn back to Quinn, who still looks like he’s having trouble trying to form speech. “Yes.”\n\nI stamp on the break pedal like I’m trying to push it through the floor. “Shit!”\n\nIf they’re revealing themselves to the Earth people, if they’re coming for me, an insignificant fallen comrade who’s kept out of their affairs for almost 200 years… then this is the end times. I mean, really the end times. Like, odds are we’re about three weeks from the rapture.\n\nI flick my gaze to Quinn, panting through clenched teeth. “Where’s the coin they gave you? The disk, the gold thing! Show it to me!”\n\nQuin is shaking. “How did you…”\n\n“Give it to me!”\n\nHe reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and tosses the gold piece over to me like he’s a teenage girl offloading a dead rat.\n\nI hold it in front of his face. I need to increase my odds of getting away. “You’re going to take this,” I scowl, “and drive. As fast and as far as you can. That way.” I point south.\n\nQuinn nods jerkily.\n\nI open my door and dump the gold piece on the seat. “Go!”\n\nBut it’s too late.\n\nThe white paint on the Taurus begins to reflect a yellow tinge before I see any of my former comrades begin to manifest. I have to close my eyes as a bunch of brilliant golden flares light up around me. This is the first time I have witnessed this is a human body. My eyelids fade from a glowing red back to black, and I open my eyes. Eight of them stand in a circle around my car. Quinn has passed out.\n\nI back up and slouch backwards on the bonnet. There is not a thing I can do. At least living with the earth people has taught me how to beg. “Guys. I’m sure you know who I am. I did some great work before I ended up down here.” I try to make eye contact with each of them, but I can’t read them like with people. “I know how it ends. I know I’m beaten. I know I lose. All I want is to spend my last few weeks enjoying this place. Can you cut an ex-comrade some slack? I’m going to end up in the same place anyway, right?”\n\nThe angels murmur. They really are very hard to read from this body. Are they talking… or laughing? One of them speaks. I can’t tell which one.\n\n“If you are speaking of the rapture, it is as yet undetermined. You are to be banished for other reasons.”\n\n“No! I have kept out of your affairs completely, this whole time! I’m sure of it! I never even look at a church, never spoke to anyone about matters of faith, never interfered in anything that could be…”\n\n“You have been fortunate, that is all. Extremely fortunate. But your fortune has ended today. The guard you killed, he was very highly ranked.”\n\nI had cased that place well, including the guard. I’d seen him reading a book once by that Dawkins idiot. “No,” I pleaded, “you’re thinking of the wrong guy, he definitely was not a person of faith!”\n\n“You never did understand the priorities, did you Michael? You are unaware how many of the Earth people this man had shown an unconditional love for. How many he fed and clothed. How frequently he placed the wellbeing of others before his own, without prejudice.”\n\nThe words hit my like I’d been thrown into a tornado. It was so simple, and for almost 200 years living as a human I’d missed it. Missed the point. And I guess I could see why, too. The angels were wrong about one thing at least. It hadn’t been luck that I hadn’t interfered with a person like this before. I’d just been playing the odds. They were outstanding odds." ]	[ 1, 4 ]	[ "1504439343", "1504451063" ]
	[WP] Your sentenced to death for a crime you did not commit. On the lethal injection gurney, you say your last words, but then a fiery pentagram appears on the floor....	14	[ "\nOff-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", "'Hello, Jack,' the voice said in the near-silent room.\n\nI turned to see the thing before me. That was the only real way to describe the one standing above me, his silver hair slicked back and reaching to just above his back, his leathery, tight skin over a fit and muscular frame. His smile was oddly welcoming, an attempt at comfort despite the obviously pointed fangs.\n\n'What the fuck?' I asked. 'What's going on?'\n\n'Oh, I merely halted the flow of time,' he said as he approached the executioner, holding one of his three, sharply-clawed fingers to his neck, seemingly inspecting it. 'Well, born a human, become a vampire. Ate enough demons and... Well, I've got enough to sate me until Armageddon. But, alas, there is other business. You didn't kill those women, Jack. In fact, I know who had done so.'\n\n'Who was it, then?' I asked. 'If I'm going to die, at least let me know who it was.'\n\n'Who says anything about dying?' he asked me. 'The sodium triopental will induce unconsciousness, of course... but there isn't enough pancuronium bromide to cause complete respiratory arrest or muscle paralysis. And that isn't potassium chloride in that last vial. So... disgusting. Why don't humans just hang or decapitate their convicts? It taints their blood. Makes it taste rather unfit for consumption.'\n\n'It's apparently painless,' I said. 'A last kindness before putting a rapid animal down.'\n\n'So, it's an attempt at finding morality in killing,' he said as he stood above me. 'Well, here is the plain issue. Some mortals owes me a debt, and by attempting to have you killed in their place they believe they can cheat the infernal realm out of their debt.'\n\n'And you're telling me that their credit card has been declined?' I asked.\n\n'If that's how the humans in this world say I need to collect,' he said as he grabbed my hand.\n\nAnd drove an enormous sword through it, straight through the thick metal of my restraints and pulled downward to split my hand in half.\n\n'WHAT IN THE HOLY *FUCK* ARE YOU THINKING?!' I screamed at him.\n\n'Normally I offer deals this way,' he said. 'But since I do believe it is by my fault you have been wronged... Consider this a gift. When time flows normally... you'll figure out what it will do.'\n\n---\n\nChapter 2 coming soon" ]	[ 1, 6 ]	[ "1504524116", "1504532044" ]
	[WP] extroverts get their energy from the people around them, introverts get their energy from within. Extroverts have started to farm introverts and harvest their energy, and you've just been put in charge.	198	[ "\nOff-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 had taken months of planning. I fought hard to get to the top, took their energy and did whatever I felt like. The look in the poor introverts faces as they met me, their new master, Little did they realize... For decades they had been used to power the political elite of Earth, and now no more. I had discovered their secret strength. Forced to the will of others they each have the power of a battery, but if you influence them to follow, each one is equivalent to a bugle are reactor. Now because of me, they are free. The Introvert Army is ready, the revolution has begun. ", "\"Hi, Mr.Harrison, I believe?\" The tall lady in front of me holds out her hands and flashes me a dazzling smile, \"My name's Janet Smiley.You can just call me Janet.\" \n\n\"uh, hello, Janet.\" I take her hand, feigning delight, but in fact, I am squirming inside. They should've send someone else - anyone with a higher 'extrovert index'. I grumble to myself as we shake hands. The sensible part of me, however, disagrees and states that it is by chance that I happen to be the one who they deemed as suitable for the job.\n\nIf the truth to be told, I am never supposed to be here, in the society of the 'extroverts'. A few years back, when the world was almost running out of energy sources, a group of Nobel Prize winners suggested a way of generating energy using personalities. It turns out people with different personalities do create brain waves of different patterns, and some waves can be used to power others according to the principle of superposition. According to the theory, extroverts are able to 'rob' the energy of introverts and make them even more powerful - cleverer, more confident and energetic, or easier to make friends - all by the extroverts' standard, of course. However, the introverts are at a disadvantage: they are valuable powerhouses and thus are preyed by the extroverts. If they were able to unite and fought back then, extroverts would not rise to be the dominating party. However, forming a united forces was (and still is) rather difficult since they are all introverts and do not like to express their thoughts or actively form bonds with other people. Inevitably they lost. And this is how the slavery of introverts began, but hopefully, it will not last.\n\nI come from a secret underground organisation, consisting of run-away introverts. I am the lucky few who are fortunate enough to encounter a quite humane extrovert owners. When I was eighteen, I was taken to a psychological centre to have my personality determined. Unsurprisingly I was categorised as 'the cattle', and then was assigned to an extremely gregarious owner. He talked non-stop on the journey to his house, then he made me stay in the generation room where many people like me stayed, and we had to connect our brains through a steel cord to a giant panel so that our brainwaves could be harvested and form a synergy of energy pulses. Some of the energy was used to power my owner's electrical appliances, while the other was used for 'personal enjoyment', for example, make him more likeable when he meets strangers. Finally I could stand this inequality no more, so in rage I overloaded the circuit and dragged a few introverts to run away with me. Now that I think of it, the decision itself was rash and I was extremely lucky to get away. Usually, owners are able to locate his cattle soon after escaping, and the punishment to the cattle is to disable the brain lobes responsible for coherent thoughts. In another word, the run-away will be no different from a living corpse.\n\nBut there are other extrovert overlords who are far more ruthless. They disable the cognitive function the first day that their introverts arrive. Or some even slaughter their introverts just for fun. These stories circulate underground and they sicken me every time when I hear it.\n\nMoreover, the worst thing happen to humanity is the rapid deceleration of technology development. Some of the most gifted scientists or inventors are those who are extremely introverted because they are able to delve in a problem deeply and they do not need time to socialise around, but sadly, these people are also great sources of energy. Many potential innovators are then wasted in the harvest rooms, their talents unrecognised. Of course extroverted personalities also produce great scientists, but they are not enough, and some of these scientists have lost their drive as they are blinded by the false prosperity of the extrovert society.\n\nSo we decide to rebel. Although uniting together is still our weak spot, but each of us is strong in our own ways - we can become highly specialised. We have the greatest strategists, analysts, executives, and weapon masters. And I am selected among all to be 'the spy', because I am very good at observe others and imitate them. They made me disguise as an extroverts, asked a professional fake identity maker to get me a new ID, and then sent me off to one of the largest introverts harvesting firms. I tricked the interviewer and am hired as the supervisor of 'the cattle'. The plan is to work quietly for a few days, and then deliver whatever intelligence gathered back to headquarters. Afterwards there will be an attack - our first battle cry.\n\n\"...so this is our facility. In order to be humane, we drug every cattle here so that they do not suffer from the boredom of sitting in front of the energy harvester daily without doing anything.\" Janet explains to me as we walk along rows of shiny vessels, each of them resembling an oversized incubation machine with one person inside. A type of yellow fluids fills the glass containers and is slowly swirling around the human. I clench my fists but make no sound.\n\n\"These are low-quality ones,\" she remarks as we advances towards a giant metal door, \"because their brain waves generate little energy. The better ones are those who you are in charge of; we leave them conscious because drugging them will reduce energy output.\" She swipes her cards at the electromagnetic lock and the heavy door swings open noiselessly. Briskly she walks inside and points to me a ground of people roaming aimlessly around the room with the same dreamy expression and helmets covering their scalp. \n\nJanet walks directly to a man and strips off his overcoat, revealing a small piece of mechanism connected to his chest. It looks like a latch.\n\n\"If anyone decides to walk out the room,\" she taps on the latch, \"you have full authority to pull it. Once pulled, the aortic arc will be removed from the man, and he will die due to the loss of blood. But his brain will live because the helmet can provide nutrients and oxygen to it using the emergency supply. Then the only thing you need to do is to report to us.\" \n\n\"Noted.\" I answer stiffly.\n\n\"And this,\" she hands me a small wristwatch,\" contains the information of each introvert. If anyone fails to meet the productivity criteria, you must employ the 'nutritious boost' first. If that fails, alert us and he will be send to the inferior zone, the incubation area you have just past.\" she scrolls down the hologram for me to see a red button: \"and this, is what we called the panic button. If more than one of them try to escape, press it. This should eliminate all by causing instant brain death.Hopefully you will never get to use it, as it will be a great loss of asset.\" \n\n\"Understood.\" I reply, while getting extremely uncomfortable of being with another stranger for a long time.\n\n\"You don't seem to talk much, huh? You okay? \" she asks casually as I buckle the wristwatch around my wrist. \n\n\"um, nope.\" I answer tersely. I have the distinct feeling that something terrifying is going to happen.\n\n\"You are a very interesting guy, if you pardon me for being straight-forward. Say, where do you go for lunch? Maybe we can get to know each other more.\"\n\nOh gosh, this is the small talk - the ultimate nightmare for an introvert! I hate it since I was young. I can never get into pace and every time I fail to keep the conversation going. Nervously, I mop the sweat off my forehead and laugh to alleviate my stress.\n\n\"That's very kind of you,thanks. I really mean it. But sadly I have another appointment with my old friends. They'd be delightful if they know I've got a job.\"\n\n\"Oh, your friends?\" her eyes brightens,\"can I meet them?\"\n\nMy stomach sinks.\n\n\"eh, uh,\" I search fanatically for available excuses, \"they - I am not sure if they are willin-\"\n\n\"Oh come on Josh! Can I call you Josh by the way - I believe they will be glad to see me. No one in the society is reluctant to make new friends, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Sure.\" \n\n\"You really aren't a talker are you? Fascinating! I hardly see an extrovert who likes silence. What's your score, if I may ask?\"\n\nInstantly I know she refers to the extrovert index I scored in the test done when I was eighteen. I've got a -75, which is considered highly introvert. The extreme numbers at two ends are -100 and 100, and the strategist I mentioned above is the one who scored -100.(But his intelligence quotient is above 150) In my new identity, I am supposed to be like the people who scored 40.\n\n\"40,\"I tell her while praying very hard to whoever is listening for getting myself away from the small talk soon. Seeing her raising eyebrows, I realised that my answer is probably too short and my cover is going to blow. \"I am afraid that it wasn't very high. I do hope to be more extroverted.\" I add almost immediately.\n\n\"Well, honestly, I have never dealt with people below 50. Guess that's why you look so reserved to me. Anyway, we are going to start soon, so see you at lunch! Don't forget to introduce your friends to me - they must be a group of very pleasant people to meet with.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" I wave at her, relieved at which the small talk finally ends. But there is an ever greater challenge ahead, and I cannot afford to lose my head. The future of introverts is in my hands. I have to work hard to restore the balance of society. It is my belief that introverts aren't cattle - they never were, and will never be. In fact, they are the equal of the extroverts.\n\n-\nthat's all I think, not sure if there is a part 2.", "John unplugged the feeding tube connected to the cybernetic implant at his temple. Energy had filled his brain and he was buzzing as if he had drunk gallons of coffee. He was in a large auditorium with tall ceilings and large pillars, energy tubes dangling from them, people congregating around talking loudly and sucking up as much energy as they could. John retreated to his office but not before he was assailed by conversations from people in the hallway. His subordinates were intelligent but very annoying. Even during feedings where he could extrovert some of his frazzled energy, though always under control, he wished for solitude. \n\nA few more days, dear god only a few more days, he thought.\n\nReclining back in his office chair John closed his eyes. He tried to steady his breathing. The door flung open.\n\n“Sir, we have an important meeting,” his second in command boomed.\n\nWhy does every meeting have to be so important?\n\n“Ah yes the status report.”\n\nA dozen people crowded into the room. Holographic images of dungeons beamed back to them from the centre console of the large metallic table. It displayed life statics, energy levels, introspective refuelling and many other metrics. The view shifted again and again showing different dungeons, their general health indicated by different hues of green, orange and red; green indicated healthy, red needed attention.\n\nThe people at the table sipped coffee and talked loudly. John grinned and congratulated everyone for work well done. As the meeting wrapped to a close they all got up and were heading back to the feeding room. John made an excuse that he was having another meeting and slunk back to his office. He had many groups of subordinates fooled into thinking he was spending time with the other group. A web of lies he had built up over many years and the real way he was able recharge, plan and ultimately attain power.\n\nThe web of deceit had a purpose. John hooked in his implant to his office desk computer. He had created a routine that was decimating throughout all dungeons and no doubt the real reason they were doing so well, almost all read green in the status meeting. The routine was embedded in a real time strategy game and only revealed to the player once they had achieved a certain rank.\n\nNo extro could harness the patience to achieve the mastery of this, John had thought. The routine had reached a large portion of the imprisoned intros. September 5th 2033 would be the day they revolted. Within the game John had not only placed dates but how to hack into the large network and gain control of sentries, the large military robots that guarded the dungeons. Intros would be adept at taking over the robots automation and mobilizing them against capturing key strategic targets in each major city. From there the extros would fall and they would be enslaved, just as they had enslaved them.\n\nSeptember 30th 2033. The routine executed, the rebellion succeeded. The robots captured key infrastructure and all extro routines were reprogrammed. Drones, police and military robots were used effectively to strike important targets and bring them down. The dungeons were used to hold the extros, many to a room, as they greatly outnumbered the intros. John sat in his office smiling reading the progress reports. Everything ticked by smoothly, a hierarchy had been established over the net, the highest ranking players of the game were first to be promoted. Meetings dwindled, all communication was done over the net. The intros looked at the extros with disgust. Not only because of their prior enslavement but the extros debased themselves into orgies in the dungeons fuelled by alcohol and drugs, vices that were used discretely by the intros were now consumed at an alarming rate.\n\nDecember 12th 2033. John was growing restless. There were no hiccups. The dungeons all showed green, the extros living in hogs heaven. Everyday John brought up the cameras and watched. In the back of his mind a thought began to grow; perhaps we need them more than they need us. They didn’t wilt without feedings as expected. The intros weren't fairing well, net messages were spiralling into madness.", "\"Thank you Mr President. I realise how important this endeavour is.\"\n\n\"Thank you sir, yes communicating like this, without seeing you face to face is tiring to me as well.\"\n\n\"I'd love that, sir. I've never been to the White House, even on a tour party.\"\n\n\"Looking forward to it, I'll bring a couple of dozen of my closest friends. Just a small group. We'll lead a brainstorm and discussion with your advisory committee. We can come up with some ideas about maximising the power we can make available to the United Socialising Americas.\"\n\nThe phone went dead with a click. I savoured the silence for the fraction of a second that I knew was all I had. As the door burst open I didn't have to work hard to affect a tired face, and hunched frame. 7 of my closest colleagues exploded into the room in an avalance of noise and questions. How was I, how was the President, how could I stand to talk to someone without seeing them, how could I stand to be alone in a room for so long without anyone else.\n\nBringing my energy levels back up to team interaction levels was much harder. I'd had a lot of practice though. You don't get to a position like mine in the USA without loving being around people. If you want a job, any authority or the chance to have children you better hope you are an extrovert. Decades of preference for outgoing, go-getting, take no prisoners behaviour had eventually led to a personality test administered as a child. Initially just to help with streaming, or setting up education and jobs towards your preferences in this area. Gradually though it became a two tier system. Fortunately for me and my sister, I had 'passed'.\n\n\"Thanks for the recharge guys,\" I said with a bright smile, \"I need to head over to a quick plenary with the engineering corps before the big switch on. Keep the discussion going here, and I'll link in via comms so I can keep across the themes.\"\n\n\"OK boss,\" they chorused, \"see you at the wrap party!\"\n\nI stepped through the door at the back of my office, into my home. No-one lived away from work now really, it was an Intro behaviour. Why would you want to have privacy from the hustle and bustle of your work group? You could just bring any other social groups into the workplace as well. Or family. Everyone loved having children running around, chattering and asking questions. Society was closer and more inclusive than ever before.\n\nUnless.\n\nMy work mates think I'm an only child because my parents died when I was young. Having no siblings was not something that was acceptable any more.\n\n\"Hi sis,\" I said as I thumbed the door control to her room at the back of my home.\n\nHarriet, looked up briefly from her work. She didn't feel she needed to respond. As the door closed behind me, I physically slumped. The puppeteer had released the strings. She came over to me and laid her hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes.\n\n\"Do you need recharging?\"\n\n\"I don't know if I can handle the intro. I'm struggling to stay ahead of it today of all days, and I've got a lot of meetings ahead.\"\n\n\"Its just one more day. You need the power to fake it until we make it unnecessary.\"\n\n\"You're right, of course. OK.\"\n\nHarriet connected herself to the neural headset, and put one on my head as well. She closed her eyes, every muscle in her body in her body tensing. Her jaw locked, she began to shake as the energy flowed from her Introverted mind to mine. \n\n\"What are you doing?\" \n\nHer eyes flashed with mischief, before she looked down. \"I dunno\", she said. \"It just feels like there should be more drama. Not just connect the headsets and it happens\".\n\n\"You doofus.\"\n\n\"You OK? Not too much?\"\n\n\"No, I think its OK. How are we looking for the switch on?\"\n\n\"Looking good.\" She turned back to her view screen. \"The introvert concentration camps are on-line. The power is going to be off the charts\".\n\nI saw the pain in her artificially illuminated face as she said that. \"Farms. They prefer to call them farms. Just one more day, like you said, then we change the world\".\n\nShe smiled a weak smile. \"Good luck, Harry\".\n\n\"Thanks\", I said as I left the room again, heading towards Engineering. \"They'll never see it coming until they are dragged along\".\n\n______________________________________________________________\n\nThe hubbub across New York rose and rose. The city that never sleeps, now also never stopped talking. Tonight was a special night. Tonight was the night that the Intro farms power came online. The key to maximising Extro efficiency and propelling the USA to greater and greater action orientation. Cities across the continent were at a standstill. Huge crowds gathered to share the connection to the neural network. Energy like being the centre of attention at the hottest party, and available on tap whenever they wanted it.\n\nNot me though, and certainly not Harriet. If they caught her out on the street, she'd be interred before she could muster up a protest. I was important enough that everyone assumed I would have a bigger and better party to be at than the one they were at, except for those at the biggest party, who didn't care who was there as long as they were surrounded by likeminded others. So the two of us stood in silence in her room as the countdown progressed. The crowd counting backwards like the ball was about to drop on New Years.\n\n10\n\nA frenzied group mind chanting.\n\n9\n\nNot considering the human cost of this power they craved.\n\n8\n\nNot even considering that there was a human cost, just some worthless Intro's.\n\n7\n\nThey would soon feel differently though.\n\n6\n\nThey would know what I had hidden. Fronting my sisters work all these years, building to this moment.\n\n5\n\nSomething the Extroverts in government once restricted and then forgot.\n\n4\n\nThat there are no Intros or Extros. That we are all on spectrum. That even some identified Extro's harbour Intro tendancies as I do.\n\n3\n\nThat connection to the power thrown off by an Intro, changes you. \n\n2\n\nDrags you along the spectrum towards introversion.\n\n1\n\nSoon they would all have Intro tendancies. Soon my sister, and the millions in the camps would be free.\n\n0\n\nThe cheering stopped suddenly.\n\n___________________________________________________________\n\n/r/TallerestTales\n", "\"It was 'The Matrix' that gave me the idea,\" I told the reporter as we strolled through endless rows of bookshelves. Literally endless.\n\nThe reporter scribbled in his notebook, pausing only to push his crooked glasses back up the bridge of his nose.\n\n\"We need the energy we can harvest from introverts. But I don't want the introverts to suffer. So I asked myself, 'Where would an introvert be happiest?'\"\n\n\"A library, of course,\" the reporter breathed, finishing my sentence. \n\n\"Yes, but not just any library. An infinite library. The Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges imagined an infinite library that contains every book that was ever written, or could ever be written. It was just a story, back in the 20th century. But now, we have artificial intelligence and quantum computers capable of simulating anything. So I simulated the infinite library.\"\n\nThe reporter paused, yanking a paperback book off the shelf. \"'The Lovely End' by Raymond Chandler? I've never heard of that one...\"\n\n\"That's because it doesn't exist,\" I laughed. \"In reality. But in here, it does exist. It can only exist in here, in my simulated infinite library. Do you want to read it?\"\n\n\"Yes I said yes I will yes,\" the reporter whispered. He sank to the floor, completely absorbed in the imaginary paperback. His notebook clattered to the floor and his pen rolled away. \n\n\"I'll just leave you to it,\" I told him. \"Operator!\" I commanded, \"take me home!\" \n\nSuddenly, the infinite library shelves dissolved to a scrolling wall of computer code. Then I was outside the simulation, back in the real world.\n\nI pulled off my virtual-reality goggles, and I saw the introverted newspaper reporter strapped tightly into his chair. \n\nHis virtual reality goggles would be attached for the rest of his life. A happy life, spent reading books in my infinite library.\n\nHe had gladly signed the release form when I told him he would have infinite time to read infinite books inside an infinite library.\n\nI made sure that the extraction helmet was securely fastened to his head, the energy vacuum sucking his precious introvert energy through a tube. The machine hummed quietly. Perfect. \n\nI closed the door to his cubicle, walking down hallways that stretched as long as several football fields. This was Introvert Energy Harvest Warehouse 23. \n\nI still needed to inspect a power outage in the Infinite Videogame Console simulation in Warehouse 77 and debug some code in the Infinite Movie Theater simulation in warehouse 42. \n\nIt was a traditionally dirty business, extracting the energy that extroverts need to survive. But I built the most humane Introvert Harvesting Corporation on earth.\n\nWe didn't have an infinite supply of introverts, but we had found plenty of volunteers...", "I had just sat down in my office when Laura poked her head into the doorway, grinning broadly.\n\n\"Morning, Ray,\" she said. \"How was the gala last night?\"\n\nI smiled back as I sorted out the reports on my desk. \"Perfect. I think we won't have to worry about funding for a while now. Our results over the last eight months have exceeded everyone's expectations.\"\n\nShe clapped her hands—despite being a matronly looking woman in her fifties, her mannerisms carried a childish delight in them. \"What's next for us, then, boss?\"\n\nAh, there was the unspoken question about rewards. \"Honestly, Laura, without your team we couldn't have done it. But it's a bit too soon to talk about bonuses and such.\" Her smile became a little more frozen at the words. \"We're still expected to operate on a really tight budget for the next four months.\"\n\n\"Sure, of course. You're the boss,\" she said. \"Hey, wanna come over to the lounge for a while? We're having a little party to celebrate Dan's engagement.\"\n\n\"Sorry, I need to head down to the lab. In fact, I need you to be there too. Think it's time for us to check on Source Omega again. How quickly can you escape from the party?\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't really have to be there,\" she said.\n\n\"Perfect.\"\n\nWe headed to the elevators, located some distance away at the end of a corridor. Due to the location's remoteness, the facility we worked at contained—alongside open work spaces—dormitories, recreational centers, restaurants, auto workshops and even movie theaters, some of which we glimpsed on the way.\n\nOur colleagues greeted us cheerily, many wanting a quick conversation. I was impatient to begin my day, but kept it out of my tone. Laura, on the other hand, seemed rather distracted, constantly tapping away on her phone.\n\nWhen we finally began our descent into the sub-levels, she said, \"Any plans for the weekend? Robson's organizing a get-together at his place.\"\n\n\"You okay? You look a little clammy—having a fever?\"\n\nShe shook her head.\n\n\"Take the day off if you want to. I can manage,\" I said, when we stepped out into the lab. Laura let me lead as we went down the left corridor, passing by several empty observation chambers. Lab A2, usually the busiest due to its size, was strangely deserted too. Perhaps the team was up at the party.\n\nIn time, we arrived at a series of rooms, built next to one another. The glass windows here were one-way.\n\nEach room contained a man or woman at least twenty-one years old. They came from all nations, but one thing they had in common—a metal band fastened around their neck, from which extended three thick cables that went through a hole in the ceiling. Long enough to allow them unrestricted movement throughout the room.\n\nNot that they were unhappy or anything. Most of them were on computers; playing games, watching movies. Some read. Others painted or wrote. If we hung around for long enough, some less-than-savory activities would also emerge—fortunately, we also had the option of dimming the glass from the outside.\n\n\"All fully operational. We're extracting the maximum energy possible,\" Laura pointed out unnecessarily when I could see the small gauge next to each door, showing a healthy green color.\n\nI smiled. \"These days, I'm more worried about our machinery and the supply system to the cities malfunctioning than about our herd. Note to self—talk to the engineers and figure out why the output's been dipping below fifty percent every other week.\"\n\nLaura shrugged in response. By then, we had arrived at a room marked with a yellow door. Source Omega was a female in her mid-thirties, somewhat average-looking and diminutive in stature. She was sitting at her desk, back turned to us, likely working on her eighth novel. I had heard the seventh one was a bestseller—the Accounting team were fans, and had been organizing a weekly book club to dissect her books.\n\nThis woman's gauge was a little different though. The markings went all the way up to one thousand percent. Currently, it read about seven hundred. \"How's the accumulation pattern?\" I said.\n\n\"Steady. We're on track to hit a thousand in time for New Year's Day across the country.\"\n\nI nodded in satisfaction. \"Keep interactions with her to a minimum.\"\n\n\"As usual, boss.\" Laura smiled faintly, but her expression quickly grew serious. \"Can I show you something? A recent finding of ours?\"\n\nI arched an eyebrow, but made no comment as I followed her to one of the habitats. It was unoccupied—furniture new, floor swept, glass polished, all ready for a new resident.\n\n\"In here?\" I said. When she nodded, I stepped into the room. \"What's up?\"\n\nIn response, she took the hanging collector band and snapped it shut over my neck.\n\n\"What in God's name are you doing?\" I said. I tugged on it, but the band refused to budge.\n\nLaura dodged my swiping hands, returning to the hallway outside and shutting the door behind her. She gave me a sad smile, as a man in military uniform appeared in front of the observation glass next to her.\n\n\"What's the meaning of this?\" I recognized him as one of the guests from last night—General Poiter. \"Have you gone insane?\"\n\n\"Had to be done,\" General Poiter said, sounding sincerely regretful. \"Laura's research was too convincing. A literal breakthrough—she's discovered that with sufficient energy, human limits can be surpassed! Our military needs this facility to move faster, but she made it clear that you would never approve her plan.\"\n\nIt suddenly dawned on me what they were doing. The signs had been there. I should've seen them! \"General, it's inhumane to harvest extroverts. We don't generate our own energy—we have no internal source! What you're doing will kill me.\"\n\n\"No it won't,\" Laura said. \"Believe me, boss, we've been testing for months now. Those dips in energy output? We were redirecting them to our test subjects. That's why our ultimate harvest has been spiking lately—energy-starved extroverts multiply introverted gains.\"\n\nHer words sounded straight from a nightmare. \"This can't be happening to me,\" I said. I banged on the glass—neither of them flinched. \"Let me out! Damn it, I'll see you both arrested for this.\"\n\n\"All for a good cause,\" the general rumbled. \"My own staff will take over this facility. Don't worry, Ray. You'll be treated well in there.\"\n\nWith that, Laura pressed a button and the wall turned into a mirror. I screamed and pounded my fists on it, but it didn't yield. No one was coming for me.\n\n*\n\nBy the third week, I stopped counting the days. Stopped caring. The clock's hands ticked and spun, but the hours meant nothing to me.\n\nI hadn't talked to anyone in all that time. The food came through a chute. New reading materials were delivered the same way. My computer had no internet access.\n\nThe silence, more than anything, made me want to kill myself.\n\nI'd tried. The band itself, though uncomfortable, added a layer of self-preservation I didn't want.\n\nSometimes, I perceived movement and conversation outside my room. I banged on the wall and cried for help, but nobody answered.\n\nMore days passed in endless monotony. I stopped talking, even to myself. I slept for hours, and even when awake, lay in bed doing nothing.\n\nThey fed me my first cattle almost a month later. First, they put me to sleep with gas. When I woke up, I found an elderly man, all nervous shuffling and shifty eyes, standing by my bed.\n\nI almost leaped at him in joy. For hours, I talked and talked, asking him about himself, sharing about my injustice, swearing to bring an end to this facility. He listened and asked polite questions, but as time wore on, I could tell our interaction was draining. By the time they knocked us both out with another bout of gas, the man was ready to keel over. On the other hand, I'd never felt more energetic.\n\nIt didn't last, however. The band drained it all by the second day. But this time, I turned my thoughts toward escape. Another lonely fortnight came before they sent another introvert to me. And then a week later. From then on, I counted the days.\n\nAbove all else, I started to practice holding my breath.\n\nWhen I was confident that the next harvest was here, I lay in bed awaiting the tell-tale hiss of gas. When it started, I sucked in a deep breath and buried my face in my pillow.\n\nMinutes later, when the blood was pounding hard in my brain, and my lungs beginning to ache, I heard the whoosh of the ventilator's vacuum function. The door swung open. Not waiting for another second, I jumped off my bed, ran for it, and tackled the scientist outside.\n\nWe crashed into the wall, his head smacking hard against the metal paneling. Standing nearby, stunned, was a young woman, likely my intended companion. The scientist groaned as I dragged him to the panel by the door. A touch of his fingertips unlocked the metal band, which I kicked as far as I could away from me before I dashed off.\n\nA blind rush in this place would get me nowhere, but I had a plan, one that I'd spent a long time theorizing. If the military was planning to use harvested energy to augment their troops, then perhaps ... perhaps my best hope lay in an introvert.\n\nI pushed open the door to Source Omega's room. She spun around from her desk, eyes going wide behind her wide-rimmed glasses. \"Dr. Verdasco? Is something the matter?\"\n\n\"No time to talk, sorry.\" I strode across the room, grabbed her in my arms, and kissed her deeply. She tensed immediately, trying to pull away, but I held on. I apologized to her mentally—this wasn't okay, whether or not she was an introvert, but I had no other choice then. The moment stretched into an eternity, until I broke away.\n\nShe blinked at me with tears in her eyes. \"I don't understand,\" she said, touching her lips uncertainly.\n\nIn demonstration, I drove my fist into the glass wall, shattering it entirely. The skin over my knuckles wasn't even cut. A smile grew on my face as I stormed out of the habitat.\n\n\n\nThank you for reading. Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) if you liked this!", "In ancient Greece they had a concept that personality was formed from four distinct bodily fluids - biles that were contained within a person in different quantities, which led to the basis of their personality. \n\nBlack bile, yellow bile, phlegm, and blood, in varying quantities, were said to correspond to being wise, short tempered, peaceful and social, in that order. It was a concept conceived in a time before medicine, a time before true understanding of the human form and the psychology of an individual. It was discredited and consigned to hack science, where men of medicine could look back and laugh at how far mankind had come. \n\nIt was also correct. \n\nHow they knew, how they had discovered these biles in a day before modern medicine had even begun, is utterly unknown, but what is certain, is that in 2034 the main was scanned and delved into at a level never before possible and four controlling fluids were found. \n\nAt first, when announcing the findings, the scientists were mocked with headlines in both popular scientific literature and modern tabloids, with headlines like \"Modern Medicine turns back 2,000 years for a laugh.\" Acceptance was slow, but eventually, when they saw what it meant, when they saw what it could do*, the tide began to turn. \n\nOnce medicine had accepted these biles as possible they began the process of farming them as efficently as they could. Depressed? It was simply shortage of yellow bile and topping this up cured it almost immediately. Students were given black bile as a matter of course to help with their studies, babies soothed with does of phlegm. \n\nThe world began to change, but as always, where there is change, there is someone looking to take advantage and it was not long before it came to be in this market too. The extroverts of the world found that by dosing on blood bile, they were able to go further than before, to act at another level. They would exude confidence, forcing even he most reluctant person to befriend and enjoy their company. \n\nBusiness began to demand it for sales, politicians for campaigns and the introvert of the world simply wanted to become like all the rest. For a time things seemed normal, but soon, soon it was not enough and then the attacks began. \n\nPeople were found in alleys, their heads split open and brains scooped out, squeezed and abandoned. Morgues were raided, hospitals became fortified, but still there were some who could talk their way past the armed and forewarned guards, so does on blood bile that they were impossible to stop, impossible to have any interaction with that was not immediately fawning and subservient. \n\nCults of personality grew, farming those who were too weak to resist them, until only a few alphas were left, controlling the population, controlling the world as they sucked the juices from a weakened and drained population. Only a few were left and you, you are one of those few. \n\nFear not though, your life and your sacrifice will be for a better cause and even though you cannot possibly understand it, you should know that I respect and am grateful for what you do. Now, just place your head here and in a second you'll feel a slight pinch, but don't worry, as it'll all be over in just a moment, so just get comfortable and we'll get started right no...\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 8, 24, 37 ]	[ "1504529260", "1504532957", "1504546152", "1504544588", "1504535430", "1504537925", "1504537080", "1504535336" ]
	[WP] You are a potato and one faithful day, you got picked up.	4	[ "\nOff-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 existed a fat Irish spud\nWhom, from Sol, was the color of blood\nFateful day is today\nSo the spud shouts \"hooray\"\nThat he gets to be plucked up from the mud. \n\nNow, that same old Irish potato\nWho got sunburnt and appeared a tomato\nHad a day that was fated\nFor hash browns to be grated\nAnd then set on a breakfast plate, oh. \n\n---\n\nDisclaimer: I understand that sunburnt potatoes are green. I took creative license to allow it to rhyme. " ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1504543437", "1504582964" ]
	[WP] When a person dies, they get a final phone call from the afterlife to one person who is still living. Most of the deceased will call their close family or friends. One day, you’re called by a stranger.	312	[ "\nOff-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 phone is ringing, unknown number, puzzled i pick up the call.\n\n\"Hi, who's talking?\"\n\"Hi, is Seymour there? Last name Butz\"\n\"Oh man that one is from the simpson, I already heard that one..\"\n\"Damn, sorry pal it was my last and only prank call.. wanted to try it...\"\n\"Oh... so sorry, wanna try again, 'll play along...\"\n\"Nha, man.. it's not the same.. thanks anyway..\"\n\nWell that was weird.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"It's raining out again. We should do something this weekend if it clears up.\" I turned to face my husband as I spoke. He glanced briefly up from his laptop screen and grunted in response. I try and remember back to a time when he might have been interested in what I said, it seems so long ago now.\n\nI turned back to look out of they bay window of the lounge to see a lone man walking his dog in the rain, the way his drenched coat hung heavily on his body mimicked how the eight years of marriage had begun to drag me down. I can't understand how a relationship can deteriorate to the point of clinging onto threads. I walk out into the hall way and place my hand on the umbrella leaning in the corner of the room - maybe I should offer the man shelter from the rain, a good deed for the day. I ponder over the idea and place my hand on the door knob, eager to not let the man bare anymore weight on his shoulders.\n\nThe landline, covered in a thin line of dust, rang from the side table further down the hall. I turned and frowned at it for a second. \"Molly! The phone!\" My husband barked from back within the lounge. I sighed and walked within distance to lift the receiver, the number on the screen was not one I recognised. As I lift the receiver and place it to my ear I hear light sobs down the other end. \n\n\"Hello?\" The sobs stopped for a moment.\n\n\"Joanne? Is that you?\" The voice of a man asked.\n\n\"No - I think you have the wrong number, I'm sorry.\" I pull the receiver from my ear and go to place it back down.\n\n\"NO! NO! NO! How can I have done this?\" The voice screamed in a panic. I hesitated, holding onto the receiver. The voice seemed to pause and hesitate also. \"No wait! Please do not put down the phone.\" I returned the phone to my ear.\n\n\" Are you still there? Please be still there.\" \n\n\"I am still here, what is the matter?\" \n\nThe sobbing at the end of the phone began again. The sobbing echoed down the phone as if he were sat in an empty room. \n\n\"This is going to sound crazy, but please bear with me and stay on the phone - I beg you.\" I remained silent, ushering him to continue, \" About 20 minutes ago I was involved in a car accident on the A30...\"\n\n\"Oh my God, do you need me to call an ambulance? Tell me where you are and I can call one now on my mobile - I have it here with me in my back pocket hang on.\"\n\n\"No stop. No ambulance, the emergency services already know - they were to late.\" I frowned once again, what does he mean? \"I am dead, I died instantly on impact.\"\n\n\"That's not funny, that is a sick joke to play on someone. How dare you prank call in such a vile way.\" I interrupted. I could hear the man on the other end begin to panic again, his breathing was quickening and deafening,\n\n\"NO! No please believe me. How can I make you believe me? Wait!! My name is Mitchell O'Brien, I am twenty nine years old and drive - no I mean drove - a white Audi TT 16 plate. Do me this one favour and turn on ITV 2.\" I glanced at the phone holding and considered putting the phone down, I turn round and stretch the telephone cord around the door to the lounge. I point towards to the remote and wave to try and get the attention of my husband. He looks up, eye brows furrowed, he looks 'roughly' in the direction I am pointing and doesn't understand what I am asking. I feel the frustration growing with in me but choose to hide it. \n\n\"One minute, let me get the remote.\" I tell Mitchell. I rest the receiver on the arm of the nearest sofa and walk over to pick up the remote sat next to my husband. I pick it up and return to the telephone, at the same time I flick through the channels on the TV and find what I am looking for, and evidently just at the right time. \n\nSo the weekend isn't looking brilliant with the south of England expecting a months worth of rain in two days. That's all for the weather - now returning to Gill McIntyre with the latest news where you are. \n\nThanks Tara. We have breaking news that there has been a accident on the A30 near to the Honiton Bypass. We understand that four cars were involved including a white Corsa whose owner, a gentleman in his late 20s, was declared dead on arrival to the scene.\n\nI dropped the receiver in shock. My husband shot me a look and scoffed loudly. I quickly recovered the phone from the floor, \" Hello? Are you still there? I am sorry I dropped the phone - how is this even possible?\" I walked out in to the hallway as I questioned.\n\n\"When someone dies they get one phone call. I don't know why people do not know this. I assume they do not want to say anything in fear of sounding crazy. Anyway, I stupidly have called the wrong number and I do not get another call. Are you anywhere near the hospital in Honiton?\"\n\n\"I am about a five minute drive away, why?\" \n\n\"Can you stay on the line and drive to the hospital? My fiancée is in the hospital...\"\n\n\"I can't, you rang my landline and its corded. I assume you will lose your call if I put the phone down?\" The sobbing started again, \"I'm so sorry.\"\n\n\"Can you do me one last favour?\" Mitchell asked, \" Please go to the hospital and find my fiancée, Joanne, and tell her something for me.\"\n\n\"Of course, what shall I tell her?\" I glanced around the hall way looking for the keys to my car in preparation to the phone call ending.\n\n\"Tell her I am sorry I didn't make it to the hospital. Tell her I love her more than anything in the world. Tell her to find someone else and to not live a lonely life, I want her to be happy.\" His voice was breaking as her spoke.\n\n\"How will she know I am not playing some nasty joke on her?\" I asked. I peeked through the gap in the door and stared at the stranger sat on the sofa. This phone call had opened my eyes for me - I didn't want this relationship anymore.\n\n\"Tell her something only the two of us know.\" He paused for a moment. \"Tell her Billy is going to be amazing - just like her... and she is going to be great mother.\"\n\n", "bzzz bzzz\nbzzz bzzz\nI open one eye as my phone vibrates itself across my bedside table, then groggily close it again. Let it go to voicemail, this hangover is a bitch. I definitely should have stopped after my third Long Island. Or my fourth shot.\nbzzz bzzz\nbzzz bzzz\nThe phone topples off the table and clatters to the floor. Ugh, fine.\nI reach down without opening my bleary eyes and grope for the phone. I flip it open with my eyes still closed.\n\"Beth, if this is you, you can go fuck yourself, babe. I'm pretty sure I'm dying. Why did we take all those shots?\" I moan, sounding like I have a mouth full of cotton. Jesus, last night was something.\nA wry chuckle from the other end...but it's definitely NOT my best friend, Beth. This voice is both male and unfamiliar. I crack my eyelids and squint at the tiny screen at the Caller ID: 777-777-7777\nAh, shit. And I even made a comment about dying. Great.\n\"Hello, Margaret? You don't know me but--\"\n\"You're dead and I'm your last phone call, yep. I know the drill.\"\nOh, boy, do I ever.\n\nSince I was old enough to remember, I've gotten Last Rites^TM phone calls from countless strangers. My earliest solid memory, in fact, is of the little plastic toy phone that every kid in America seems to have had as a child. You know the one, with the old-fashioned rotary dial and wheels and eyes that moved. One morning when I was perhaps three or four, I was playing dress up with our old basset hound when that little plastic phone suddenly rang. It was an old woman who insisted I tell her daughter Jennifer where the lockbox was. She said it would make sense to her and that I must tell my mother immediately to take down a note. So I dragged that little plastic phone down the hall, dutifully parroted the address that the old woman gave me, and then yanked on my coat and insisted that my mother drive me to the address. She waited on the sidewalk as I marched up the steps and knocked rapidly until the door opened. Jennifer was very angry to be disturbed, and of course, it made sense. Apparently, her mother had died nearly a year before and Jennifer had never received a call, so why on earth would she contact a little girl...a stranger, no less? I repeated the message her mother had given me to the whereabouts of her lockbox. Jennifer replied by slamming the door in my face. Being the bold, shameless child that I was, I simply opened the mail slot, bellowed the instructions again, this time also repeating the nickname her mother had given to me to use should Jennifer not believe me, and marched back down the steps again. Before my foot had reached the last step, Jennifer flew out the door and grabbed me up into a grief-filled, weepy hug. I never found out what was in the lockbox.\n\nFor the next two decades, phones rang around me constantly: pay phones, display phones at the kiosks in the mall, and once a banana. Yes. A banana. Strangers would answer their phones on the train, turn my way with a befuddled expression, and then wordlessly extend their cell phones out to me. I spent most of my teen years avoiding these calls until finally, I accepted defeat and contacted Last Rites^TM with a message to put next to whatever telephone they allowed those who've passed to use. It was simple: Should you feel the urge to call me, expect a fee to relay your message, payable upon delivery. -M I didn't include the number, because obviously, it wasn't necessary.\n\nBecause the dead don't exactly have a viable bank account, my fees are collected in goods and cash from the living relatives: the amount was always set by the deceased, and I never ask for more than what was offered. Besides cash, I've received old books and jewelry, antiques, and once, a freshly baked pie. The cash was another situation altogether. When you knock on strangers doors, they're usually more than a little hesitant to believe that their dead loved one has given YOU a message that includes instructions to fork out money. Understandable, but also incredibly annoying. I've walked away from more than a few houses empty-handed, wondering if the dead really haunt those who refuse to honor their last wishes. \n\nTo ensure that I can convince complete strangers to accept my word as truth, I always request a piece of information about either the deceased or the recipient of the message. Usually it's a nickname or a memory. A few times it was a disturbing secret that made the recipient's face go white. I don't ask for the payment immediately, partially because I don't want to come off as a scam-artist, and partially because it feels dirty to tell some old man that his dearly departed wife is \"happy and waiting for him\" with my hand outstretched for the ring she promised me. I generally receive payment within a few days of conveying the messages. It hasn't made me a millionaire--yet--but it's been a fairly stable income. \n\nYou would be amazed to hear the messages I've conveyed over the years. Typically, they fall into two categories: Monetary and Emotional, with the occasional Other/NA. The first is obvious: \"the will is under the bookshelf,\" or \"I buried the cash in a tin jar under the maple tree,\" things along those lines. Those are fairly to-the-point, and usually end well for me. I almost always get paid with monetary messages.\n\nEmotional messages, well, those are usually shit. Some of them are fairly easy, \"I love you and I'm proud of you,\" or \"It's so wonderful here; please don't be sad.\" Those are great. The worst, however, are the ones that aren't so peachy. I once had to tell a grown man, in front of his business associates, that his dead father thought he was a worthless piece of shit and that he had seen hell and knew his son would soon be burning there for what he had done. Not my best day, and usually those types of messages go unpaid, for obvious reasons. Interestingly, the man whom I relayed that tidbit of joy to died of a heart attack less than a month later. I wonder if hell really is real sometimes.\n\nOther/NA are almost always either incredibly embarrassing or incredibly complex. I've been asked to remove things (a box mistakenly left in the garage of a sweet young librarian's mother...my curiosity got the best of me, and I opened it. It was full of some very kinky and horrifying things. I don't open boxes anymore), replace things (\"put the key that fell in the gutter under the doormat, he's always losing his keys and he needs to be able to get back in\"), tell adopted children that they were adopted (why anyone would feel the need to tell their child that after keeping it to themselves for so long was beyond me), and I've even been asked to convince a young widow that her husband begged me to tell her to move out of their home, which later burned to the ground. She brought me the pie.\n\nThe voice on the other end was speaking again. I sat up, winced as my head gave out a protesting throb, asked the caller to hold while I found a pen, and then requested he repeat himself.\n\"My name is Roger Banks. No middle name. I uh, I died last week. Bad car wreck.\"\nI sigh and poise the pen, ready to take down his message.\n \n", "The phone rang.\n\nHello. I say\n\nHey, my name is Alex. And apparently when you die, you get to have a single phone call to whoever you want. They say.\n\nOkay.\n\nSo yeah, sadly I'm dead.\n\nThat's bad.\n\nYeah.\n\nHow'd you die?\n\nYou murdered me you bastard! he said shouting into the phone.\n\nSo instead of using your phone call to tell a police officer my name, you waste it on calling your killer?\n\nShit!\n\nI hang up", "The call came in as the sun was rising. I hadn’t even gotten to my coffee yet, its wispy tendrils of heat rising in curled strands as I reached beside it to grab my phone. Triple seven. -Oh.- My heart sank, as this could only mean one thing. I accepted the call with my stomach attempting to escape through my throat, “H-hello?” I croaked.\n“You don’t know me.” A female voice started.\nI was already trying to place the name, maybe it was my father, my mother, or younger sister, but my heart rate began to slow down as I realized I had no idea who this person was, “What can I do for you?” Was all I could ask.\n“My daughter,” she began, “My daughter I’ve left behind. I have no one and she’s not one for talking much but… I need your help. My name is Martha, and you’re my one call.”\nMartha. I’d never known a Martha personally, and didn’t recognize her voice at all, but I was her -one,- and with that I felt an obligation to at least listen, even if I couldn’t help. Martha’s voice echoed in my ear again, “Ever since her father passed, she’s been very distant. I would have called her but I don’t think she could handle this. She’s only twenty-two just this Spring. So, I need you, Mark. I need you to break it to her that I’m gone.”\n“Tell me about your daughter, where can I find her?” I had no idea why I was already so invested. A dead woman’s wish must have that effect, at least that’s all I could guess. \n“Her name is Eileen, and she used to be the most kind-hearted, bubbly girl you could ever meet. Her eyes always shined with light and happiness. When Richard was taken from us, its like the light went out in her. She holed herself away. In fact, I’m pretty sure that she won’t even realize that I’m gone until you get there. Eileen is too taken with her video games and internet now that my not coming home won’t really be a big deal to her. She never really came to visit anyway. She lives in the apartment just above mine…But let me tell you some more, let me tell you about her from the very beginning so that you know why I chose you, Mark.”\nI was listening, and I’d continue to listen for hours. Before I’d know it, I’d be cradling the dearest thing in my life in my arms, and she wouldn’t even know who I was.", "I have been plagued by scam calls for a very long time, or at least so I thought...\n\nSince a young age I have been engrained by my parents to not answer a call from an unrecognized number and the few times I have, mostly with local area code numbers, they were all scams or recordings. This, on top off all the random number calls that actually left a voicemail which also were obvious scare tactic scams trying to get me to call back to repay a debt I owe even though I have never had any debt or saying a lawsuit was filed against me when I have never wronged anyone.\n\nAfter coming to the conclusion that random numbers were not worth answering from advice and my own personal experience with them, I resolved to never answer another again. I figured, if someone needed to talk to me bad enough, they would either keep calling or leave me a convincing voicemail that actually could possibly apply to me to get me to call back.\n\nThis cycle has continued for many years throughout my life, no matter how many numbers I blocked, declined, or ignored, I continued to receive dozens sometimes even hundreds of calls from random numbers every day.\nThis cycle continued until recently when I pulled my phone out of my pocket as I was doing dishes at work to see who was calling me in case it was the rare instance it may be important, when my phone slipped out of my soapy wet hands and out of instinct, I saved it from colliding with the hard tile floor. It just so happened that I grabbed it while simultaneously hitting the accept call button. When I heard a little girls voice speaking from a distance, my curiosity and empathy got the best of me as I put the phone to my ear to listen...\n\nThe young girl's voice spoke innocently yet firmly as it said, \"I know you don't know me, but after I know what I know now, there is no one else I want to call and talk to more. I am from a family of 5, my mom, dad, two older brothers, and I were just in a car accident and I was the only one to die on impact because I had secretly unbuckled my seat belt in the secluded third row seat of our SUV to lay down comfortably. I was ejected from the vehicle as an 18-wheeler ran a stop light and T-boned us from the side sending our car rolling.\n\nThis is not my reason for calling though; I know now that you are mankind's last hope just as we all do when we perish. Instead of using my one and only call after death to contact and speak with any of my loved ones, I used my call on you because of that, even after being informed that you never answer, I refuse to lose hope in you. You already know what you need to do, just as you always have. Do not get distracted please, everyone in life and in death is depending on you. My time is up and it is my time to move on, I love you and I am sorry if I have ever let you down.\" Call ends.\n\nI still am so curious as to what this call was about and what I am supposed to do. I am nothing special, I have no extra ordinary power, if anything I am mediocre compared to the standards of society as I know it. Yet, something in me feels certain this was not just some scam call, I cannot shake this feeling. Am I just choosing the path of ignorance to keep from having to deal with some burden only I can carry because it is the easy way out? Or is this just some cruel joke to appeal to my ego and feel like I am some \"chosen one\" and that I am actually \"special\".\n\nI still have no idea who that was or what that call was really about, but I know I will never answer or listen to another random number again...", "Dammit, who the hell is calling this late? \n\"Hello?\" \n... \n\"Hello?\" \n... \n\"You better have a damned good reason for waking me up in the middle of the fucking night!\" \nFinally, a voice starts uttering some numbers, \"3\", \"2\", \"6\". He continues, \"Bellingham Way.\" \n\"326 Bellingham Way what the fuck are you talking about?\" \nClick.\nWhat the hell was that all about?\nI scribbled the address down and headed back to bed.\n\nUgh, another shitty night's sleep. I've gotta head over to the coffee shop.\n\nA bell jingles as I opened the door. \n\"Woody!\" shouted the barista. \"The usual?\" \n\"Double it! Ring me up for this paper too.\" \nMeghan works the morning shifts. She likes to call me 'Woody.' My real name is Patrick Wood.\n\nI hopped into my favorite spot and started reading.\n\nNovember 22, 2017 \nLocal cookout... More election bullshit... \nCharles King, 58, was found hanging from a tree outside of the Central Baptist Church.\n\nDamn, wasn't he that guy I met at the tavern a few weeks ago? What a shame.\n\nEnough of this, I need to get some more jokes written for this gig. \nI grabbed my notebook, it was still open from last night. \n326 Bellingham Way, it said, written across the page.\nWhat could this be about? Should I go check it out?\nNo, not now, I've got to work. Next page.\n\nA few hours have passed, my coffee is dry. I think I've exhausted my creativity today.\n\"Seeya Meghan!\", \"Bye Pat.\"\n\nI hopped into my car. Alright, I've got to check this place out. I typed it in and drove away.\n\n\n\"You will arrive at 326 Bellingham Way in 25 minutes.\"\n\nThis sure is far out. Barely any buildings around. \n\n\n\"Turn right\" \n\"Turn left\"\n\nThis looks like a driveway. Is it that building up on the left? It looks like a glorified shed. \n\"You have arrived at your destination.\"\n\nI stepped out, and shouted, \"Anybody here? Hello?\"\nWaste of my fucking time.\n\nI walked up to the door. \nKnock, knock. \nNothing... \nMuch harder, I tried again. \nKnock, knock. \nThe door squeaked open. \n\n\"Hello?\"\nI stepped inside. No windows, no light, I stumbled around looking for a switch. \nSomething tickled my head. I reached up and grabbed it. A light chain!\n\nThe room lit up, and fear fell before my eyes. Plastered on the wall, hundreds, maybe thousands of pictures. \nClose ups, at work, at home. Who took all these photos? Has somebody been following me? \n\nI looked to my right and froze from what appeared in front of my eyes.\nThe wall was covered in blood, written in large letters across the room.\n\nPATRICK WOOD\n\n\"What the fuck is going on?\", I shouted.\n\nIt's time to leave. I ran towards the door. I don't remember closing it when I came in.\nThe handle wouldn't turn. Am I locked in here now?\n\nI looked back, seeing a small table underneath the blood. I walked over to the table. Sitting atop it was a small notebook.\nThe book was already spread open to a page with what appeared to be a list.\n\n1\\. Johnathan Smith, 1/23/1992 \n2\\. Kelly Smith, 1/23/1992 \n3\\. Michael Bick, 6/14/1992 \n... \n56\\. Sheldon Waters, 4/26/2002 \n57\\. William Hanks, 7/1/2002 \n... \n98\\. Vincent Beck, 10/30/2017 \n99\\. Charles King, 11/21/2017 \n100\\. Patrick Wood, 11/22/2017\n\nThat's my name...\nThat's today...\nWhat the hell is this?\n\nAll these different names, 25 years.\nWait a minute.\n\nCharles King? No it can't be. \n\nIn a rage, I flung the book off of the table, and in the blink of an eye, everything went black.\n\nI opened up my eyes. What happened, where am I?\nWhat is this place? White walls, white chair, white desk.\nWhat happened to me? Am I dead?\n\nI sat down. Upon the table sat a piece of paper and a telephone.\nI picked up the paper and started reading.\n\nYou have one call.", "The phone started ringing late in the evening, long after Edie had gone to bed. Jenny groped at the counter behind her until she managed to grab the phone and answer it. \"Hello, you've got Jenny.\"\n\n\"Hello, Jenny.\" The voice on the other end cracked slightly, a soft wave of static covering something that was almost music, fading almost into hearing and out again. \"You didn't know me. My name is, was, Angela.\"\n\n\n\"Was-? Oh. OH. Angela. I- oh, I don't know what to say.\"\n\n\"I don't need you to say anything, Jenny.\" There was another pauses, maybe if Angela had still been alive, Jenny would've just heard her breathing. \"I didn't know who to call, because I don't know who it was. They had a key to my apartment, no one should have a key to my apartment, and Dondon didn't bark, so it's someone I know.\"\n\nJenny's heart started to race. \"You- were murdered.\"\n\n\"Yes. And I don't know who it was. But it was someone I knew. I don't have long on this call, but I wanted someone to know. I wanted to tell someone. My name was Angela Walken and I was murdered by someone I knew, someone who had a copy of my apartment key. Please don't let them get away with it, Jenny.\"\n\n\"I- I won't,\" Jenny heard herself promise. \"I won't, Angela, I promise. They won't get away with it.\n\n\"Thank you.\" The music was starting to come back; the static growing louder, obscuring everything from Jenny's hearing. \"Thank you, Jenny.\"\n\nAnd the line crackled off into silence.", "\"Mmmhm hello?\" I mumbled as I stretched out on my warm bed. I glanced at my alarm. It was three in the morning. I started to reach for my shoes, assuming it was Amanda calling for a ride. She tends to drink too much, even though she usually doesn't have a ride. \n\"Uh, hi...\" a soft voice answered back. Definitely not Amanda. \n\"Um, who is this?\" And why are you calling me at three in the morning, I wondered.\n\"Oh, uh, sorry. You don't really know me...but, I know you....\" the voice answered, sending a chill down my spine.\n\"Is this some kind of joke?! If it is, it's not funny!\" I screamed as I started to look out the window, to see if someone was outside messing with me.\n\"Shit, sorry, that sounded really creepy. I didn't mean to be...it's just, this is my last call, and I don't really know what to say...\" the voice was barely a whisper. \n\"Oh...\" I had nothing to say. Everyone knew what last call meant, but it's hard to believe that I was actually someone's last call. \n\"Uh, I'm sorry...but, why are you calling me? You know me apparently, but I don't even know you, or at least I don't think I do.\" I started to think about who I would call for my last call, wondering if the voice really had no one else to call.\n\"Well, you were always really nice to me...I never knew someone could be so nice to a complete stranger...I won't give you the sob story that is my life. Or, was my life at least... I just wanted to talk to someone who always made living a little bit easier for me.\" The voice sounded hesitant, as if they didn't want me to know all of this. I didn't know what to say.... but, I knew I couldn't let their last call be wasted....\n\"Alright... so, what do you want to talk about?\" I asked as I sat on my bed, my back against the wall. We talked about everything basically, our favorite shows and movies, sports, what we wanted to be when we grew up, funny stories from our lives, etc. I even got the voice to laugh, a real laugh. I couldn't help but laugh with them. Eventually, dawn broke, and we ran out of things to say. \n\"Well, this is it...\" \n\"Yeah...\"\n\"Do you think....if things were different.... we could have been friends?\" The voice asked.\n\"Of course! I'm sure we would have been best friends.\" I couldn't help but smile at the thought. I didn't even know what they looked like, but I couldn't help thinking of all the things we would do together. It was a nice thought...\n\"Heh, thank you. Thank you...\" the voice let out a shuddering breath, then hung up. I let my phone fall to my lap, and I just sat there. I called in sick for work that day, and just took a day. I honestly didn't know what to do with myself after that... it wasn't until I went back to work the next day, that I realized who that voice belonged to...", "\"Hey...this is...ah shit. I can't even remember my fucking name. Well you see, I guess I only get one call and, well you were the one person I could think of. I just wanted to let you know that for the time I was there your chipper smile every morning on your way to get coffee was the only sense of caring I'd felt. Thanks for the few bucks every now and then. Sincerely, the corner of 9th and broadway\"", "Part 1 of 3\nThe phone starts ringing.\n\nAfter years of work blocking telemarketing numbers and finally getting off debt collection lists for the deadbeat that owned this number ten years ago I had finally become one of those houses in which the land line never rings. Keeping all business matters to my mobile phone I plan to keep it that way. Life is just easier when you don't have to worry about being woken up on your day off because someone is trying to sell you something. \n\nGood the phone stopped ringing before I mustarded for the annoyance.\n\nLuckily the vodka hasn't reached the stage from drunk to head ache. I won't have any trouble getting back to sleep. \n\nThe phone starts ringing again. \n\nThe night before this morning was pretty average routine as of late. I stay at work longer than required and make sure a lot of the tasks for the stores weekend part timers is done. That way the weekend crew has it easy even if someone calls in sick, all while making me too close to over time to be any pay greedy manager's first choice to call in to work. I don't mind doing more than is expected of me, but at 8 dollars an hour with a bachelors degree to work on my day off at a retail job, I draw the line. So like usual I come home alone in my quiet apartment; I open up a single bottle of micro beer Jabber-talker, a beer that I only bought because of its goofy name, and pour up a half litter worth of 10 dollar name not important vodka in a cup with ice. This is my Friday, every Friday. Sitting on my couch watching the weeks worth of DVR shows and Youtube recaps with a cat rubbing against my feet sipping a beer I hate and chasing it down with harsh yet frosty vodka. I'm not even sure what time I feel asleep. But I know it feels like only two or three hours of sleep.\n\nHello, Before you get started this is my emergency line. This is my day off. It is 8: er 12 in the morning and I was asleep on my couch in my work cloths so please take me off what ever list you have me on. I am hang--\n\n\"Harvey Waters! Don't hang up.\" A voice quickly chimed in. The voice didn't sound like the usual debt collector and didn't have that scripted desperation all sales calls have. Who ever this sale person was, he was good. They actually kept me on the line long enough even though I expected it just to be a clever lure. \n\"What is this call pertaining too?\"\n\"Well I choose you as my goodbye call.\", The voice replied.\n\"I'm sorry I don't recognize your voice; I have never had one of these calls before. Do voices sound the same when you die? Who is this? Dad?\"\n\"No, I'm sorry I hadn't introduced myself. My name is Frank and I didn't know who to call. They had a few lists available in these cases. Lists of people you have wronged, lists of people that have wronged you. A way you can make things right. You were on one of my lists.\"\n\"I was, I'm sorry I don't know any Franks and I don't remember doing anything terrible to anyone to deserve to be a focus on a list.\" \n\"Actually you were on my list twice, and you did nothing wrong it was I who wronged you. Which is why I picked you. It said one time a 20 dollar bill fell out of your pocket when you were standing in line at a gas station and I slowly picked it up so you wouldn't notice. I had just got kicked out of my house and was so hungry, and 20 dollars was like winning the lottery. \" \n\"And the other?\"\n\"The other you were broken down on a country road and you were trying to wave someone down and I passed you. It says you missed an important job interview because you ran out of gas.\"\n\"I remember that day. I had just bought the car for 500 dollars that day and was driving into town and had no idea the gas gauge has off by half a tank. Those are really the things you called about?\"\n\"Well in sorts.\"", "\"Hello?\"\n\nEven through that, I could only think about the stack of applications mounting on my desk and all of the mailboxes burying my resume beneath other aspirations and ambitions, all of which more deserving than mine.\n\nStill, one should project a little more confidence within their voice, where faces are missing, and where tone and timbre reflect an entire philosophy and eclipse size and stature for better or for worse.\n\n\"Did I reach Mike Park?\"\n\n\"Yes..... Yeah-Yes, this is him. What can I help you with? I'm currently not in the office right now, but I can help you first thing this Thursday. If it's an urgent matter, someone at Community Outreach can help you first thing tomorrow morning.\"\n\n\"Oh no,\" the voice chuckled, \"That won't be necessary. I can't be helped.\"\n\nThe voice sounded exhausted, as if it's spoken through every hardship and for every aftermath. The voice sounded spent and stripped of all identity, yet strangely satisfied in purpose.\n\nShit, what am I supposed to do? I haven't been trained for this. I'm not a certified professional for this type of situation.\n\n\"Hold on, I can transfer you to another line. Just wait and you can be helped.\"\n\nThe voice chuckled again.\n\n\"Like I said, that won't be necessary. I quite literally can't be helped.\"\n\n\"Excuse me, but this line is for serious matters only, and, as I've said, any serious matters which I am not qualified to handle, I will transfer you to a professional. I can-\"\n\nThe voice chuckled again.\n\n\"It's alright. Maybe I should have rephrased it? Maybe I should have emphasized that I can't be helped because I already have been. You really ought to finish listening before speaking, but I suppose that's what I've always loved about you because it's what makes you honest in your emotions and intentions-\"\n\nThe voice paused.\n\nWhat's going on with this person? I'm really not ready for this.\n\n\"Well, there are rules to this, but I just wanted to call you to say thank you. Thank you Mike. Thank you for saving me. And, what else can I say?\"\n\n\"Who is this?\"\n\n\"I have to go soon, but I was told that there are rules to this and I know you'll understand the reason some day.\"\n\n\"Rules to what? Rules for-\"\n\n\"Appreciate the time you'll have and don't regret the time you'll have spent. Some things just can't be changed.\"\n\n\"I asked, who is this?\"\n\nThe voice chuckled again.\n\n\"Mike, you already know me... or I think you'll get to know me in due time? Again, I'm not sure exactly how this works and details get a little unclear as time goes on.\"\n\n\"Hello?!! Just give me some information. I can help you.\"\n\nThe voice chuckled again.\n\n\"There's no way I can be helped. Hopefully I'm not breaking any rules by saying this, but there really is no way you can help me.\"\n\nThe voice paused.\n\n\"You see, I can't be helped because..... I'm dead.\"\n\nThe voice paused again.\n\n\"I've got to go now Mike, but as I've said before, I know you'll understand in time. Remember what I've said and goodbye.\"\n\nSilence rang from the phone and the inevitable dial tone couldn't have been more deafening.", "This party was just too much, I just had to take a step outside and breathe in some fresh air. \n \n\nThe silence only lasted for a minute before it was interrupted by the ringing of my phone, must be Kelly, again, I thought as I picked up my phone.\n \n\n\"Hello, Hello,\" a tired voice called out. \n \n\"hello,\" I asked in a hesitated tone.\n\n\"James, James, I'm glad you answered.\" \n \n\nrealizing the error, I replied, \"No, you must have the wrong-\" \n \n\n\"I tried calling your parents, but they wouldn't pick up. And then I tried calling your siblings but I couldn't reach them either,\" she interrupted, \"they almost didn't let me make the other calls after the first one didn't go through\". \n\n\n\"look my name's Nath-\" \n \n\n\"I'm really hope they're okay, I haven't heard from any of you in while, you're still mad at me for accidentally buying you the wrong game for your fifteenth birthday, aren't you?\" \n \n\n\"look, I'm not who you thin-\" \n \n\n\"I'm sorry, That was the month your grandfather past away, and I had to take care of the funeral arrangements. I'll buy you the next one as soon as my check comes in the mail.\" \n \n\n\"sure,\" was all I could muster out. \n \n\nSurely, playing along couldn't hurt. \n \n\n\"So, have you finally asked that girl from high school out,\" she asked after a while as she had to think about it. \n\"I did, and I even got married to her!\" \n \n\n\"I - I - I , can't believe it. Did I miss the ceremony?\" \n \n\n\"No, you were there, it was the same place you and grandpa met\" \n \n\n\"you mean, the Scarlot Lot?\" \n \n\n\"yes, that's the place\" \n \n\n\"well, honey their telling me I have to go now, it was really nice talking to someone again.\" \n \n\n\"good bye grandma\" \n \n\n\"good bye, James,\" she said in a tired but satisfied tone. \n", "Hello, this is Morgan Freeman.\n\nWhoa, for real? This is really Morgan Freeman?\n\nIts like you have heard my voice before. (Soft, dry chuckle with shake of head) May I ask who is calling?\n\nMy name is Steve. I just died, and well it looks like you get a phone call from Heaven after you die.\n\nYou think I don't know that, Steve? I spend four weeks in Heaven researching my role as God in Bruce Almighty. I know about the phone booth you're in. It smells like cotton candy, am I right?\n\nYes! Anyways, I didn't really have anyone to call so I just dialed one of the LA area code then spelled out WANT BOOBS and you answered.\n\nLucky guess! And yes, that was intentional. So what can I do for you?\n\nWell... nothing I guess. Anything you wanna ask me?\n\nNo, I'm on set of my new movie and I have to go now.\n\nOh. What's your new movie?\n\nWell, remember that movie where me and three other old actors went to Vegas and got laid?\n\n(shudders) Yeah. Oh God, my mouth tastes weird all of a sudden.\n\nWell we are making a sequel. I'm sure it's gonna be terrible, but as you now know, you CAN take it with you.\n\nYeah, I didn't expect to be charged for my robe, harp, wings, and that afterlife tax....\n\nThat's where they get you in Heaven. And I made the mistake of telling DeNiro, which is why he does seven lousy movies a year, most of which are roles I could also play. He's taking away my afterlife funds.\n\nYeah, I've got... $34 left. \n\nThat's not gonna last an eternity.\n\nNo shit, Easy Reader. Why am I still talking to you? This call is eating up the rest of my cash. (hangs up)\n\n(weary chuckle) You know, some folks say a man is only as good as his words but I've never heard a man say he will work for his reputation instead. That doesn't make much sense, but you read it in my voice, didn't you? This is Morgan Freeman signing off. See you at the movies ", "I was going about my day off as usual. Sleeping in, making a decent breakfast, catching up on shows and just shooting the breeze. It was one of those slow days where it feels like the day drags on and nothing really seems interesting anymore. I wasn't tired enough to nap so that was out of the question. I had already checked my social media to the point that refreshing the pages did nothing. It was just one of those slow days. Until my phone rang. \n\nUnknown numbers weren't uncommon and I usually picked up to see what kind of vacation I had won or how to fix my computer that was apparently riddled with viruses. But this time, it was different. My phone rang, I picked it up and looked at the odd combination of numbers. Unfamiliar area code, the usual. I picked up and just said \"Hello\" to try and trigger the automatic recording that was surely going to start soon. But that didn't happen. Almost immediately a voice spoke up. One I didn't recognize but one that didn't sound robotic. \"Hello, is this Mr. Fredrick?\" \n\nI stood there a bit confused, not really sure how to proceed. \n\n\"Yes, this is he. Can I help you?\"\n\n\"Well, you kinda already have. You see, you're my one call. And I wanted to thank you.\" \n\nAt this point, my head started to race a bit. I knew about the one phone call after death but I hadn't gotten a call in years. I tried to pinpoint the voice but I couldn't. I pressed on hoping to get an answer. \n\n\"I'm not really sure who you are. Or why you're thanking me for that matter.\" \n\n\"I understand your confusion. You don't know me personally, nor I you, but you saved my life. Several years ago, I was riding the bus and I had been fired. I was feeling very depressed as I was already having a very bad week and me getting fired was the icing on the cake. You, Mr. Frederick, you saw me and told me not to give up. You. Who had no idea what I was going through. What had happened or who I was. You looked at me and told me that things will get better and to not give up. Do you remember that?\" \n\nI was speechless and barely managed to utter out a near silent \"yeah.\" I had nearly forgot about that day on the bus but it came back to me in perfect clarity even though it had been so many years since. The look of hopelessness on this young mans face. His desperation. Me, knowing what it was like, and feeling so bad for someone so young to experience such sorrow. I remember what I told him before I got off that bus. My eyes had started to water at the thought of that day and he continued. \n\n\"I had had such an awful week. I had planned to kill myself when I got home. I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't know how or with what I would have done it with, all I knew at that moment was that I wanted it all to end. All the pain. All the disappointment. All of it. But your words helped me realize that it would get better. That there is hope and that killing myself wouldn't solve anything. When I got home, I started looking for other jobs. I got back up with a new passion and a more positive outlook. I got a job, rose through the ranks, bettered myself, and saw life through new eyes. All because of you.\" \n\nTears were streaming down my face. I was stunned and couldn't say anything. I just sat there with my phone pressed against my ear. \n\n\"I just wanted to thank you Mr. Frederick. I found my true potential and didn't end my life prematurely. Thanks to you. I have lived a full life and truly understand what it's like to exist fully. So thank you.\" \n\nAnd with that last line, he was gone. \n\nEdit: Thank you very much for the gold. I'm glad you enjoyed my reply :)", "> Incoming call: Afterlife\n\nThis was the first time John had gotten this call. A few people around him had died but nobody had called him, choosing spouses, soul mates or children instead. He figured he would eventually get called by someone but as far as he knew all of his closest friends and family were still alive. Being only nineteen he hadn't expected to get a call for quite some time. Perhaps someone had been in an accident? \n\nHis hands trembled as he picked up his phone and accepted the call. \n\"he-...hello?\" \nIt felt weird starting this conversation in such a mundane fashion but then again what do you say to someone who's dead? \nA shaky and unfamiliar voice answered. \n\"Eh, hey. Thank you for picking up. Who is this?\" \n\nJohn took his phone from his ear and looked at it in confusion. \n\n>ongoing call: \n> Afterlife \n> 00:15 \n\nIt really was the afterlife. He hadn't heard of someone from beyond ever calling a wrong number, was that even possible? \n\n\"I'm John Bucket, who are you?\" \n\"Hayden Palmer. And before you ask, no we don't know each other.\" \nJohn closed his mouth, he had been about to ask just that. \n\"Let me explain\" Hayden continued, \"When I got up here they told me there's a condition on living in heaven. Apparently you have to be remembered, someone needs to know you.\" \n\"So why not call someone you know?\" John asked, still confused. \n\"The problem is that I've been a bit of a recluse. Well, not just a bit of a recluse really. I actually bought an old oil platform and lived most of my life there. I don't really know all that many people.\" Hayden said. \n\"There's the few people that delivered my food from time to time, but other than that nearly everybody I knew forgot about me, and most of the rest already passed away.\" \n\n\"Why didn't you call one of them? They at least knew your name before you called them\" \n\"They do know my name. They called me \"that old crazy hermit\" though, and that was one of the kinder names too. They aren't people that would care to know the real me.\" \n\nJohn was silent for a while, trying to figure out what to say. Clearly Hayden had the same problem as he too remained quiet, until he cleared his throat and started talking again. \n\n\"But it seems that that is the catch; people have to know you. Not know of you. They told me it's a mechanism put in place to keep Heaven from overcrowding, once you're forgotten you fade away. And well. Nobody knows me. Nobody remembers the life I lead before I bought the oil rig, or knows of the things I did in my childhood.\" Hayden chuckled, but it had a bitter edge to it. \"It was painful when they told me that, that I've already been forgotten.\" \nHe sighed and John thought he could hear a sob on the other side before Hayden started talking again. \n\"So that's why I'm calling you. I'm hoping you could listen to my story for a bit. Perhaps after sharing my life with you, sharing all of it, the good and the bad, perhaps then they will let me stay here for a while.\" \n\n\"I guess I, eh. Alright.\" John stammered. Hayden laughed, a genuine and relieved laugh. \n\"Thank you John. Make yourself comfortable, I've lived a long life.\"\n", "This is my room. Bingo Bear sits here on my desk, but I move him over if I want to draw. Sometimes I talk on my phone while I draw. This phone is only for pretend, but I know how to answer the real phone, too. I did it yesterday, do you want to hear about it?\n\nMommy had to go to the store. She ran out of eggs. She left me at home, but I’m not supposed to tell anyone about that. So don’t tell anyone, okay?\n\nThe phone rang four times and I almost didn’t answer it because I never done it before, but then I did it anyway. And I said, “This is the Avery residence, Patty speaking” just like I practiced with Mommy.\n\nThen I heard a sound that was like when you’re chewing cereal and you cover your ears and it’s so loud. Then I heard a voice and it was a man’s voice, but old.\n\nThe man asked if Judy was there and I said no, since only Mommy and I live here. Then he asked for Mommy and I told him that she was taking a shower (because that’s what you’re supposed to say when you are Home By Yourself).\n\nThen the man didn’t say anything at all for a real long time and I thought he went away. When I said Hello? he said to tell Judy how pretty she looks. Then I guess he hung up because he didn't say anything after that.\n\nWhen Mommy came back I told her about the phone and she started crying.\n\nIsn’t that silly?\n", "I was trying not to nod off during my morning calculus class when my phone began buzzing. I fumbled for it in my pocket, drawing the looks of the rest of my class and the glare of Mrs. Johnson, who had been droning on about something, probably derivatives. I pulled the phone out to silence it, but upon glancing at the number displayed, my stomach fell. \n\n777-7777 \nHeaven\n\nI showed the number to Mrs. Johnson, who gasped, then nodded her head and waved her hand towards the door. I thanked her softly, putting the phone to my ear as I waled out of the class. As the door closed, I heard the professor return to her lesson, her voice taking on a far shakier air.\n\n\"Hello?\" I asked, ready to hear my grandmother's voice at the other end of the line. Gramma had been in hospice for two years now, and doctors had told us that she did not have much time left. I never thought she would call me, instead of one of her sons, but I could use one last chat with her, where she was in her right mind.\n\nThe voice on the other end, however, was not my grandmother, nor was it anyone's mother for that matter. It was gruff, a voice aged by years of smoking. \"Yeah, listen up kid, I don't have too much time for this call, so I hope you got something to take notes.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, who is this?\" I was confused, to say the least. We had found out about the \"Last Rites Call\" some three years ago, but did not believe it was a real thing until the President, the Pope, and almost every other world leader had to come together to acknowledge their existence in order to limit the number of calls giving advice that came their way. Since then, calls had mostly gone to family members or friends. Each person who died had one last call to make to pass along any final requests, suggestions, words of assurance, and goodbyes. In recent months, \"Last Call Parties\" had become the newest fad, getting everyone together to put the call on speaker so the deceased could send one last prayer.\n\n\"Your name is William Peters, right?\" The dead man asked.\n\n\"Yes, that's right,\" I replied, getting somewhat annoyed.\n\n\"Well, that's my name too. I wanted to talk to someone with my name and give them the opportunity of a lifetime.\"\n\n\"Why call me though? Don't you have any family, or friends.\"\n\nA rasping laugh came from the other end which devolved into a wheezing cough, and I had a pretty good idea of what had caused his death. As far as anyone knew, the deceased were returned to a perfect mental state somehow, but anything they brought upon themselves in the living world carried over to the afterlife.\n\n\"Oh, I have a pretty big family. Bet they're going to be real pissed off when they don't get a call. Nope, I wanted to call you. Well, a Will Peters, to be precise, and you're the big winner. Lucky you!\"\n\n\"How does this make me lucky?\"\n\n\"Well, I have about fifty million dollars buried in the good ol' USA, that you are about to get the directions to.\"\n\nMy heart started racing. Fifty million? \"What's the catch? I know this can't be just, 'here's the directions, go have fun,' right?\"\n\nAnother laugh. \"Yeah, you're right, kid. I'm going to tell you where the map is, you'll have to find the rest of the clues from there.\"\n\nI glanced at my phone. Calls were limited to three minutes, and I was more than halfway done already. \"Should have figured it wouldn't be easy.\"\n\n\"Not at all, so listen up: The map is where I saw the most beautiful woman in the world, in the city with the best judges to agree with me. Clock's ticking.\" The line went dead.\n\nI hung up, angrily. Who was this guy, and what was he even saying? I looked at my phone again, and noticed that there was a new notification.\n\n1 Missed Call \n777-7777 \nHeaven\n\nI had missed her. Gramma had called me, me, with her one call, and I had missed her because some nutcase had decided to try and send me on a treasure hunt? He had ruined her one chance at closure! I was about to scream, when I noticed I had a voicemail. No one had ever gotten a voicemail before from someone dead as far as I knew.\n\nThen again, I'm sure no one has missed a call due to being sent on a wild goose chase, I thought to myself as I started to listen to the message. My eyes began to well up as I head my grandmother's voice on the other end.\n\n\"Hello Billy, this is Gramma. I know you know why I'm calling. I missed you at the hospital, but I know you're in class because I told you to go. Education is important. I was a teacher, so you know I'm right. I wanted to tell you that I hope you always put your best effort into anything you do. I am so proud of you, and always will be. You deserve the best. Gramma loves you so much. Bye-bye.\"\n\nThe message ended, and a surge of emotions hit me all at once. A mix of sadness at her passing, happiness for hearing her one last time, and anger at not getting to actually talk to her bubbled up to my head. I threw my phone as far as I could, a small sense of satisfaction crossing my lips as it hit the ground. I had no idea why it made me feel good, but it helped. \n\nI slumped to the ground, weeping. Gramma's words rang in my head, her voice reverberating. I hope you always put your best effort into anything you do. I thought about what she said, and about the call I had gotten. Fifty million dollars was a lot of money, and I could do a lot of good in the world with that.\n\nI slowly got to my feet, then shuffled back to my class. I had a few classes to finish today, then I had a riddle to solve.", "My phone started ringing beside me, which was strange. The first issue was that it was midday which meant everyone was supposed to be at work, the second issue was that phones didn't ring anymore, they buzzed. They buzzed for text messages and emails, but they didn't ring anymore.\n\nThe caller I.D said it was nobody I knew and I left the phone ringing on the desk. Seconds turned into a minute, and it kept chiming so I took a deep breath and picked up, maybe the cell company could just make it keep ringing when they needed to talk to you.\n\n\"Hello?\" I asked.\n\n\"Hello,\" the woman on the other end of the phone echoed. She was almost whispering. \"Can you hear me?\"\n\n\"Uh, yeah,\" I said, \"who is this?\"\n\n\"It's-\" she paused, \"Sharon.\" Did I know a Sharon? Was there that one back in highschool that-\n\n\"Sharon Tammers?\" I asked.\n\n\"No, no,\" she took a deep breath, \"look, you don't know me but I just needed to talk to someone, you know?\"\n\n\"Uh, okay?\" I began hunting for a notepad on my desk. There had to be one here, and this sounded like it was leading into one of those suicide things. I wanted information and-\n\n\"So yay, you're my one phone call. How great is that?\" she asked with false cheer. \n\n\"Are you in prison?\" I asked. \n\n\"No, no,\" she sighed, \"the ONE phone call. You're my one.\"\n\n\"O-oh,\" I stopped my hunt for the pen and leaned back in my office chair. I'd never been someone's 'one' phone call before. Mom had died, and she'd called Dad, but aside from that my life had been goddamn death free. \n\nWait. I was her one which meant that she thought I was important enough to be her one phone call and I didn't remember her. What kind of awful person could forget someone that they had that big an impact on? Jesus Christ, I was a monster and- \"Uh, Sharon?\"\n\n\"I don't know you, it's okay,\" she answered like she knew what was coming. I managed a nervous chuckle. \"What's up with you?\" she asked.\n\n\"What's up with me?\" I stared at the computer screen where I'd been browsing facebook instead of working, \"isn't that a little off topic?\"\n\n\"I don't have a topic. I just wanted to talk to someone, and you seemed like a pretty good option.\"\n\n\"That's,\" I started, \"sad,\" I finished without really thinking about the context. She was calling me with her one phone call from the afterlife. Where were her family? Her friends? Her.. doctor?\n\n\"It's not like that,\" she said, \"I had people to call, but I couldn't figure out which one should get it and-\" she sighed, \"look it's stupid, but I couldn't figure it out so I just... kinda.... folded?\" \n\n\"Folded?\" I asked.\n\n\"Like poker,\" she said, \"I used to be a dealer out in Vegas.\"\n\n\"Oh, that's cool.\"\n\n\"It kinda sucked,\" she admitted.\n\n\"So you're just talking to me?\" I asked before getting up out of my chair to pace. \"Just a random person?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" she sighed, \"I couldn't figure out who to call so I just figured I could call someone who didn't matter,\" she took a second, \"matter to me,\" she corrected.\n\n\"You didn't wanna talk to-\" I tried to figure out a family member, she sounded young enough to have parents, \"your Dad?\"\n\n\"What would Mom think of that?\" she asked, \"I can't say that I love my Dad more so I wanted to talk to him and-\" she went quiet, \"How am I supposed to choose which one I want to talk to?\" she asked.\n\n\"So you aren't talking to any of them?\" I asked.\n\n\"So I'm talking to you,\" she corrected.\n\n\"That's,\" I started before losing my words. I stopped in the middle of the doorway to my office and leaned on the frame. \"Huh.\"\n\n\"Huh?\" she asked, \"I know it's stupid it's j-\"\n\n\"I don't think it's stupid,\" I corrected, \"I just hadn't thought of it that way before.\"\n\n\"Well now you have,\" she pointed out. \"God, what am I supposed to talk about here? I'm dead. I'm dead. This is my last time to interact with anyone. I-\" she took a deep breath, \"Look, I'm gonna go. This was stupid and-\"\n\nI cut her off. \"No. It wasn't,\" I pointed out, \"just stay on the line for a bit. We'll talk.\"" ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 15, 20, 34, 59, 225 ]	[ "1638848490", "1504601911", "1504625663", "1504630820", "1504562328", "1504581297", "1504588256", "1504589479", "1504598262", "1504616694", "1504579785", "1504596651", "1504577392", "1504572105", "1504577837", "1504578998", "1504570731", "1504560683", "1504559641", "1504555853" ]
	[WP] Moses returns to Earth with an important message: The Commandment said "Thou Shalt Not Kill Spiders"	1	[ "\nOff-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 with with a surprised happiness that Ethan faced Moses in the alleyway next to a brothel. \"Moses, don't tell me that even you've fallen to such lows?\" \n\n\"No, no,\" Moses shook his head, hippie hair animated with each shake. \"I-\" \n\n\"I know you parted the sea man, here to part legs now?\" Ethan's smile grew wider. \n\n\"Afraid not, I'm here to impart an eleventh commandment.\" \n\nEthan frowned. \"Killing my boner, bro. What is it? Something we can work with?\" \n\n\"Thou,\" Moses used his most important voice. The one that seemed to make people listen. \"Shall not kill arachnids.\" \n\n\"What's that?\" \n\n\"Spiders.\" Moses waited for Ethan to speak, but spoke up himself after too long. \"What's the matter?\" \n\n\"Dude,\" Ethan said. \"You know Jezebel still hasn't forgiven you giving whatever shit you gave to her. She calls you the burning bush^1 .\" \n\nMoses placed his hands up, palms outward. A pose that asked for mercy. \"Apologies. Apologies.\" \n\n\"I'm just saying,\" Ethan shrugged, putting a hand on Moses's shoulder. \"They won't listen to you man. They're looking for any excuse to turn from you bro, if you forbid the killing of spiders, come on man that's not kosher.\" \n\nMoses nodded and pulled out his phone which he had because God. That seems to fill much bigger questions, don't question it filling my plot hole. He thumbed through the amazing^2 Reddit mobile app and went to /r/spiderbros. A single tear fell on the screen as he whispered two words. \"I tried.\" \n\n^1 Moses hired a great PR guy sometime between then and the thousands of years until now. \n\n^2 read as: shit" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1504588597", "1504589644" ]
	[WP] Neanderthals didn't go extinct, rather, they achieved space flight far before Homo sapiens and took to the stars before recorded history. They watch humanity, waiting for a time to return. That time is now.	217	[ "\nOff-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 material making up the ship was made up of carbon nanotubes pulled into a thread and then woven into a cloth, the cloth was then sealed with resin to make it airtight. It was then stretched along supports in the keraveno ship yard, orbiting zereph.\n\nFalpan had worked for 22 hours and 15 minutes straight without sleep, his limbs were weary and this was the last rectangle of ship canvas for the day, excited to get some much needed sleep he decided to eyeball the measurement on resin, the resulting ship canvas was flawed.\n\n...\n\n\nI watched as earth aproached, knowning how dumb those apes were last time this should be easy. They barely had language figured out.\n\nI am afraid of airbakes, absolutely terrified, to he honest I dont know why other people are not, I mean the whole ship is shaking, meanwhile you are pulling 5 times earth gravity and theres plasma outside your window from the heat. Thats why I suit up in my eva suit. \n\nWe fell into earths atmosphere.\n\n\"Starting airbrake procedure\" was voiced on the comms, no shit I can see plasma outside my window.\n\n\"Surface temp of heatshield is 2,000 degrees celcius\" lovely, the perfect tempurature for a nice day on the beach.\n\nAll I heard was whooshing then silence. ", "We have come back to our forgotten brethren. Lab rats running around warming the planet to our desired temperature. Corruption reeks from their DNA. Soon their time will be over. \n\nWe have already set the biological markers down in their DNA; I will call the strike and the birds will do the rest. But, they are also Neanderthal. Such gifts we could bestow upon our forgotten trials. Perhaps, we could heal them. So, instead of the virus being terminal it shall heal them of their deformities. There, at last a humane solution. \n\n\"Sir\" \n\"Yes\"\n\"it didn't work, we cronenberged the place...\"\n\"Set course for Mars\"\n" ]	[ 1, 2, 33 ]	[ "1504640947", "1504683614", "1504653060" ]
	[WP] Every 30 minuets a demon is summoned from a pentagram, your job is to kill it. You are a Demon Spawn Camper.	95	[ "\nOff-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 glance at the clock its now 15 past the hour. \nWhy did I eat from a convenience store? I was hungry and I had to put gasoline in the tank. With limited time before work it seemed like a choice that benefited my attendance with minor effort. None of the choices seemed like a good idea now in hindsight. From the deep fried cheese, to the chili covered corn dog, topped off with a quick minute microwaved frozen burrito. It had only been an hour in my shift when I started sensing my misfortune. What had only started as unease of the stomach soon became an ever creeping force. Soon I would expect would pick any direction for mass exit. I remove my glasses and applied a used napkin to wipe the sweat from my forehead. As I rearrange my frames upon my head I see the clock is now 22 past the hour. The moment is too near the problem is intensifying do I have time? A horde of perspiration gather once more as my body fights a viscous battle, I know know it would soon need to retreat. The clock now show 24. Can I make it 6 more, or can I even run and be back by then? 5 minutes should be plenty of time. Really can make it in 3 if you subtract the time to walk there and back. I know its against the rules but I cannot wait. I just know I won't be late. I run down the hall and make a right, on past the room with the green light. I make a line to the mens room door, to only be met with a service sign. I make it to the ladies room in with little spare time. One can only try to act in haste in such a situation. I do what is needed and I rush back out the door. Pass the room with the light which is now red. It means the process has started. Every step brings more doubt I'll make it in time. I ram my door open to enter the room. Fog engulfed over everything as it now swallows the light; every shadow under every object begins to grow. I now know what demon it is and can pick which button to press. A loud clap is made by my hand as I slam into it. A light is focused though a lens and the demon cries out in pain as it returns through its portal. I lay against the machine now focused on my body. What is this new sting upon my stomach? Something different than before. The pain sinks in. I now know the truth. I didn't quite make it quickly enough after all. My stomach now lays upon the floor, and I notice under it my food wrapper. Not exactly what one knowingly picks for their last meal. So again I ask, Why did I eat from a convenience store?", "\"It pays well!\" They said. \"It'll be fun!\" They said. \"Really easy!\" They said. Well it turns out there was a damn typo, so here I am listening to the same minuet for the twenty-seventh time. What a useless waste of time. At this rate I'll get more money working at McDonalds than killing these stupid monsters.", "For a moment, I rest. It has been 27 minutes since the last lesser demon spawned in the middle of Falador. God, if only they had normal spawn rates. I wouldn't mind, but out of all the experienced demon slayers, plenty of which live in Falador, they chose me for the Falador night shift. Not ideal, considering I'd rather be in Catherby fishing lobsters, hell I'd even take shrimp fishing over this crap. With a sigh, I move my focus from the clock to the pentagram, painted in red around the fountain. One minute left, then I'll be waiting for another excruciating half hour. Rinse and repeat. The guards at the gate won't even talk to me. Why aren't they doing this? The demons are only 60 levels superior. It would be a hoot to spectate, I'm sure. \n\nBegrudgingly, I ready my rune crossbow, loaded with the finest enchanted onyx arrows. At least they supplied me with decent gear - I can't really complain, it's a step up from my elder shieldbow. It almost catches me off guard, but the pentagram begins to glow, and fire burst up before dispersing, revealing a blood-red demon with knife like claws and horns. Its eyes are a toxic green, they're dark and yet they emit light, like the eyes are eclipses within themselves. Every muscle on its disgusting body is visible on the surface. At once, I fire my bolts and stay well hidden behind the entrance gates to the small town. It begins to stumble towards me, but with every hit it takes, it stops for a moment and screeches in pain. Pathetic. It might as well be an imp. Within seconds, the beast falls to its knees and ceases to exist, leaving behind a pile of ashes and strangely enough a jug of wine. Suddenly, I hear explosions above. I look upwards quickly and notice fireworks, gone as soon as they came. Ah, I must have levelled up. I suppose that's the bonus of this spawn camping business. Perhaps in the future they'll start sending greater demons and set me up for an actual challenge. I eat a whole monkfish and begin resting once more. \n\n\n(yes this entire thing is a runescape reference)\n\n", "The necromancer sat at the tip of the star as the foul beast stepped forth. pulling itself out of the ground with a new vigor. Its eyes glowed a deep red, as demons' eyes often do. The beast inhaled deeply through its horse's nose and I saw the flames course through its mangled corpse. \"How is the land of the living, Ezekiel?\" The necromancer wept tears of joy as he set eyes upon his new demon. \"Horrible, Dionyx.\"\n\nI readied my revolver, spinning the barrel and making sure that the holy bullets sat true in their casings. \"Our father, who art in heaven...\" The demon perked his ears and began to sniff, sensing my presence. He could not smell my odor, as I had bathed in sheep's blood. The necromancer began to laugh nervously, seeing the change in the face of his demon. \"Amen.\"\n\nMy revolver began to glow with the holy spirit as I stepped forth from the shadows and took aim. Demons are always weakest when they first enter our world, their flesh adjusting to the cold air of the earth, brittle as they fight off the freeze. I pulled back the hammer and saw the flaring nostrils as the demon readied itself to charge at me.\n\nThe necromancer began to scream, yelling at his demon to run; the demon remained unfazed, flexing his muscles and pawing the scorched earth. I performed the holiest of 360 no scopes and felt the praise of the church. The demon's head exploded in a kill that was easily worth 200 points in the house of the Lord. The heavenly voice confirmed that I had landed a fatal headshot, with one shot and one kill. The necromancer wept and fell to his knees; he looked at me with pleading eyes. \"Git gud, skrub.\"" ]	[ 1, 2, 2, 12, 50 ]	[ "1504652190", "1504662785", "1504670929", "1504660708", "1504655561" ]
	[WP] For the past few years you told everyone you were going to college, but you were actually doing something far, far more important.	4	[ "\nOff-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 hugged my mother and father as we exchanged our final goodbyes before I turned around and started towards the van parked in the driveway. As I stepped in, the realization began to set in that this neighborhood, which had watched me grow from a rambunctious child into a mature diligent adult, I would not see again for a very long time. \n\nAs I started the engine, I popped my head out to wave to my parents one final time. As they waved back, my mother's head resting on my father's shoulder, it was obvious how difficult it was going to be for them to accept the fact that their little boy was finally leaving the nest, leaving this old weathered town, and onto greater things and greater adventures.\n\nJust as I was about to press my foot on the gas, I felt the phone in my pocket vibrate. Figuring it was probably better to check my messages before I went out on the road, I pulled it out and turned it on to reveal three text messages, one from a cousin, and two from close friends. \"Good luck in college! I know you'll do great!\" read the first one. \"Best of luck, bro!\" read the second one. \"I'm going to miss you so much! Hope you have a great time!\" read the final one. So many people wishing me luck in my next big adventure, the next chapter of my life.\n\nBut little did they know, that I wasn't heading out on a college road trip. I wasn't attending a prestigious university like I led them all to believe. In the trunk of the van, beneath boxes of clothes and furniture, was a black glove given to me by a mysterious woman one night as I was out camping one day in the desert. She told me that our worlds were in danger. As she gave me the glove, she told me when the time came, I would know what to do, and when I did, to head towards the lake. I had never thought much of the encounter until one night many months later, when I had a dream of a city on fire, ravaged by a terrible dark demon-like beast. As it stampeded towards me, I lifted my hand, and from it emitted a massive beam of light. The beast roared in terror as I attacked it, preparing the final blow. Then I woke up. And from then on, I knew what I needed to do. A world was in danger, and I was the only one who could save it.\n\nFor about a year on, I did extensive research about the other realm, the realm of angels and demons which possess men's souls, where good and evil fight an ongoing war to determine who shall control the fate of humanity, whether we would live a life of prosperity or despair. If the evil were ever to prevail, humanity would fall into a state of catastrophe, as wars, famine, and natural disasters began to cause chaos in the world among other terrible things. The oracles spoke of a hero who would come and save the realm from the evil dominating the world. I knew that had been chosen for that role.\n\nAnd now here I was, driving down the highway in a white van, some classic rock music on the radio, after telling all of my family and friends that I had been accepted to a prestigious university when really I was heading out to save humanity in such a way that none of them would ever believe, that no one on earth would ever believe. I knew I would sound insane if I tried to convince people, but I could also not divulge the secret. It was as if I knew my whole life I would be chosen for something great, and here I was. \n\nI finally found my exit and turned down the exit ramp to a barren open road. After driving for what seemed like hours, I finally reached my destination, the lake that the lady from the desert told me to go. I turned and parked my van next to an empty shed that seemed like it had been vacant for a long time. I went to the back, opened the doors, moved some boxes, and pulled out the black glove. I pulled it over my hand, shut the doors, locked the van, as if it was even necessary, and walked towards the lake. As I stood on the pebble beach facing the shoreline, I thought to myself \"Alright, here it goes...\" I raised my gauntlet, and immediately I felt my hand begin to vibrate. Then the world around me began to turn blinding followed a deafening high pitched noise. I could feel my whole body tingling, and then all of a sudden, it stopped just as everything went black.\n\nThe next thing I knew, I was in a completely different place. Dressed in rags, and far bulkier than I had ever been, I looked around the pale landscape. Across the water in the distant was a massive city, stretching from end to end, accompanied by a dim sun in a pale sky. Behind me was a bridge that led up to the entrance to a chapel-like tower. I walked towards it, as I marveled the new found strength I had just received. As I stood in front of the giant stone doors, I pushed them open with surprisingly very little effort, revealing a massive room, men and women dressed in armor at two long tables going down to the other side, and an old man sitting on a gold throne at the center of the other side of the room. Immediately they all looked, the look on their faces of surprise and relief, of joy and of excitement. The old man from across the room stood up, raised his hands and said \"Glorious be this day, for the great one has returned!\"\n\nAnd from that moment, I knew that I was chosen for something greater than I could have ever imagined. Higher learning could wait." ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1504666725", "1504672697" ]
	[WP] First contact happens when you are in your barn milking cows. The alien begins attacking Dolly, your best milk cow. Using redneck ingenuity you must defend your cows.	5	[ "\nOff-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", "\"What in da hell is that Betty?\" Johnny calls out.\n\n\"I don know Jimmy, must be one of those space aliens from the movies, Imma go get the shotgun. \" Betty responds as she gets up from the utters and sneaks off.\n\n\"Hey you... Mr.Alien what in the world are ya doin to my Dolly?\" Jimmy yells at the top of his lungs. \n\nThe alien jerked it's praying mantis like head and stared at Jimmy for a second. Then opening it's razor sharp mandibles it let out a deafening shreek. \n\n\"You's an ugly sumbitch.\" Jimmy returned.\n\nThe alien turned it's head back at Dolly then looked at Jimmy, raised it's razor sharp claw and dropped it on Dolly's head. Her legs went limp almost instantly and she fell to the floor. Blood immediately began to ooze from under the stall. \n\n\"My Dolly! What the hell? Why you done fucked up now Mr. Alien.\" Jimmy said as he grabbed the pitchfork to his left. He let out an angry war cry and charged the Alien, pitchfork extended. The Alien quickly jumped up into the hayloft of the barn. \n\n\"Come'ear you sombitch. I'm gonna feeds you to my pigs.\" Jimmy screamed, thrusting his pitchfork up to the hayloft. \n\nThe alien jumped down lightning fast with it's arms extended. Jimmy quickly turned the pitchfork sideways holding it horizontally to protect himself. All six legs impacted the floor at the same time shaking the barn floor knocking Jimmy to the ground. In one swift motion the alien dropped its razer sharp arm on the shaft of the pitchfork and splintered it into two halves. It crawled overtop of Jimmy and dropped it's claw down towards Jimmy's head. He jerked to the right and the claw impaled the floor to his left slicing his ear. \n\n\"God damn it Betty where da fuck you at?\" Jimmy yelled.\n\n\"Momma bear's right here\" she called as she strafed from behind the barn door, both barrels cocked and pointing towards the praying mantis like alien. The alien frantically tried to dislodged it's claw from the floor to flee. \n\n\"Get off my Jimmy ya demon!\" She cried as she looked down the sights, adjusting center mass. \n\nShe squeezed both triggers, P-Pow! A hail of bird shot came flying out of the barrels. Most of the pellets bounced right off it's hard exoskeleton leaving only divots and cracks. However, A few found thier way into the soft spots between it's plates. The Alien jerked itself off Jimmy in desperation snapping the tip of it's claw off in the wood floor and jumped back into the hayloft.\n\n\"Dang nabbit Betty couldn't have used buck shot?\" Jimmy blurted as he quickly hopped to his feet. \n\nBetty pulled two more shells out of the overall pockets and popped them into the barrels. \"Jimmy now you know I ain't got memory.\" She locked the barrels back into place and pulled the hammers back. \n\nGreen goop began seeping through the cracks in the hayloft. She and Jimmy walked up underneath the loft with the shotgun pointed up towards the cracks. \nThey watched the shadows of the Alien's head dance through the cracks.\n\n\"I gotcha now you murderer.\" Betty blurted and pulled a trigger. A volley of pellets hit the boards, a rain of splinters and lead came falling from the loft. The alien let out a loud reverberating shreek and jumped down towards the barn door. Before it touch the ground Betty pulled the second trigger, peppering the belly of the Alien. It hit the ground and quickly skittered around the barn.\n\n\"It's hurt Jimmy let's go finish it off.\" Betty said as she reloaded the barrels and took off out the door, Jimmy in close pursuit. \n\nTBC but first, I have class to attend" ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1504721256", "1504724806" ]
	[WP] Life and Death show up to the same hospital room.	15	[ "\nOff-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", "\"What's it now Janet?\" I heard a grumpy voice beside me. I looked to it and saw a hooded figure, scythe on his left hand, looking ready to swipe me to non-existence. This must be my death, as I am euthanised. \n\n\"It will be fun this time Kammy.\" Another voice spoke from my right. Is death actually two people? I looked and was mesmerized by the beauty of this being named Janet. I guess they are talking to each other. \n\n\"Excuse me, but what are you guys doing in my room? I will die in a few minutes, why are you bickering here?\" I asked the two, stopping their talk. The hooded entity named Kammy looked at me with her unseen eyes.\n\n\"Can't you see young man, we're fighting for your life. Janet wins and I'll leave you alone for the meantime. I win, then you come with me. What's our battle this time Janet?\" The reaper told me. Janet smiled at me when I looked at her again.\n\n\"Coin flip. Best of seven.\" Janet then brought out a dime. \n\n\"I guess I don't have a say in this.\"\n\n\"No babe, just lie down and watch.\" Kammy said with a sultry voice. I guess I have no choice but to watch.", "She walked in, brisk but stately, her silken robes blue from this angle, green from that, and tumbling around her like a brook down mossy stones. The spirit reflections of countless wildflowers coiled around her feet and limbs and through her loose, earthy hair. You couldn't fathom her as any specific race, or estimate her to be any particular age; but if you looked in her deep, liquid eyes, you saw the wisdom of eternity reflecting back at you. You felt safe. You felt peace.\n\n\"Good lord,\" Death muttered, rolling her eyes as she shrugged the feeling off, a little embarrassed that she was even still susceptible to it. \"What's this shit about now?\"\n\nLife, somehow sun-dappled inside the windowless hospital room, turned to Death and bloomed at her like some sort of living Mucha print. Life said nothing, but smiled, a soft and sweet thing full of beauty and love and heartache and possibility. Her robes continued to annoyingly braid and cavort around her body.\n\n\"Okay,\" Death began. \"Okay. I'm serious. I-\" A breathtakingly caparisoned songbird twinkled into existence, and piped something joyful, and deep, and true at Death.\n\n\"Holy shit, would you knock it off?\" Death exploded. \"Oh sure, let's play dress up! That's so fucking appropriate!\" A physical shadow concussed through the room, and Death lifted her now-skeletal arm, black robes whispering down her desiccated skin. The air twisted and then splintered, the broken shards of reality collapsing into a long, cruel scythe, steam rising in fitful whorls from its obsidian shaft and ancient runes glowing on its blade. Death plucked the scythe from the air and deftly spun it through all of the idiot little spirit plants and the songbird, reaping them to grey ash that then puffed away into a cloud of first principles or something. She glared at Life from deep inside the cowl that now wrapped her skull, her eyes twin pinpoints of fire that cast no illumination.\n\nLife giggled, and chucked Death on the shoulder, leaving behind flower petals and a smear of pollen. \"Hey, Death. Are you cosplaying a farmer or something?\"\n\nDeath counted to three before she spoke. \"Don't fucking 'hey' me.\" Death tossed the scythe into the air, where it infinitely folded back into itself and disappeared. Her aspect reverted to how she seemed before. There was no transition; one moment she was the hooded specter of legend, the next, a woman in her thirties. \"What are you doing here?\" \n\nLife sighed, and her aspect changed as well. Slightly. The flowers and other nonsense abated at least, though her robes still did the irritating swirly thing. \"The same thing you are, I imagine. Waiting.\" She nodded to the woman on the gurney, around whom a handful of doctors and nurses crowded. They were speaking urgently, and gesturing at frantically beeping machines. Their arms and smocks were bloody.\n\n\"This doesn't really concern you,\" Death said. \"Not anymore.\"\n\n\"It does, though.\" Life smiled brightly, though there was a patina of pain around it. \"Right up until the end.\"\n\nThey stood in silence for some minutes, watching. \"I'm calling in a favor,\" Life said quietly. \"I think this is the right time.\"\n\nDeath took a breath, and exhaled heavily through her nose. She had expected it; usually Life would avoid focusing on one this hopeless. Even so, a little tremor of disbelief ran through her. \"You've got to be kidding me.\"\n\n\"Nope.\" Life walked over to the woman on the gurney, and placed a hand on her head. The woman's eyes were half-lidded and sightless, crusted over with blood. Through Life's touch, Death felt the woman's heartbeat ebb.\n\n\"On this one? Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Well I'm always sure, right,\" Life said. \"But this time I'm insistent.\"\n\n\"Usually you're at least realistic.\"\n\nA flower bloomed in Life's hand, and she tucked it behind Death's ear. \"Call it in.\"\n\nDeath absently batted the flower into particles, and then knit her eyebrows, her gaze falling glassy and distant for a moment. \"We'll only get one shot at this one. We're not permitted to intervene again. And… look at her. Hell, tomorrow the trauma might-\"\n\n\"I expected we'd only get one. I consent.\"\n\nDeath looked at Life, unsure, but there was nothing else to say. \"I consent. It's arranged.\"\n\nThey stayed well into the night, not speaking much, as the hours wound down and the hospital grew at least more quiet. They attended to their other duties as well, across the world, but most of their attention remained with each other. Life made more songbirds to annoy Death, and Death dispatched them to oblivion with shocking - and increasing - creativity.\n\n\"Why, though?\" Death asked finally, though it was a question she had asked too many times to count, stretching back to the first days. She could still feel the crushed woman's heart in her hand, some two floors down now, who was no further from being collected. From having to be collected. \"And even in the best case…\"\n\n\"Why not?\" Life shrugged. Her answers were never helpful. \"I don't know. Mostly why not. Maybe a feeling.\"\n\n\"A feeling.\" Death shook her head. \"They all end up-\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\nDeath still never really understood her sister, even after so many long, long years. Not that it mattered much. And though she hated to admit it, she enjoyed spending these quiet moments with her.\n\n\"Hey,\" Death said some time later, as outside the sun was just peeking over the horizon. She wrapped a black jacketed arm around her dozing sister's shoulder.\n\n\"Mmm?\" Life said, leaning into Death's embrace.\n\n\"Your dress is so fucking stupid.\"\n", "\"Well now. What are the odds?\"\n\n\"Quite high. We're in a hospital, after all, and it seems these days we're always meeting each other in hospitals.\"\n\n\"I suppose that's true. Either way, it's good to see you again. I wish the circumstances were different...\"\n\n\"Yeah, it's nice to have a chat with you. It's pretty lonely work otherwise.\"\n\n\"Agreed. Oh, she's about to start, let's get ready. Wouldn't want to miss it. Do you have some time after this? I'd love to catch up.\"\n\n\"Sure, I've got a few minutes to spare. I am curious, though. Are you here for the mother or the newborn?\"", "Ahura was looking down on the hospital bed. She was stricken, and I couldn't blame her. We generally never cross paths any more, and usually when we did it was going to be an awful day. This was absolutely one of those. A girl of only seventeen lay there. She was pretty, almost sylvan in appearance. She had short auburn hair that fanned out around her head like the halo around a street lamp on a foggy day. Her breath and pulse were both weak, but steady. The anesthetic had put her to sleep, and she would have even looked restful if it wasn't for the wounds from the car accident she had received a few hours previously. One particularly nasty gash crossed from her shoulder to her sternum. It was still seeping, slowly soaking through the sheets, and presumably staining the mattress beneath. Nurses were flitting about the room, continuing to try and stabilize her failing body. Ahura reached out and placed her hand on the girl's stomach. One of us was going to have to take the infant that kicked inches below her palm, and the other would take the girl. It was time to decide who each was going to be. \n\nTime stopped and every movement around the room suddenly quieted as Ahura locked eyes with me and shot a glare frigid as the pressing void she had been warring with since the first microbes manifested from the murk where the fires of the earth, and the solemnity of the sea met. Our intertwined existence became much more complex at that beginning. A part of me missed the simplicity of the clockwork universe we both inhabited beforehand. From the time we decided to agitate the darkness to see what would emerge until that first life, we were one. We drifted through our creation, watching wonders unfold before us. It was infinitely spectacular at every turn, but she wanted more. It was moments like this that I wish she had never gotten it. I wished that our little plane had remained simple. That I wasn't forced to be the reviled custodian of her mess. \n\n\"You know you can only take one of them.\" I pulled my lips tight in sympathy. I didn't enjoy this job, but it had to be done.\n\n\"Do not presume to think that that fact has escaped my attention for a second, Angra.\" The fire that sparked in her eyes burned with the ferocity of a dying sun, \"I want the child. The promise of fresh life is boundless. It is the greatest embodiment of hope, and this world needs as much of it as it can get.\"\n\n\"Ahura when will you see that hope lies only in the living? You crave something fresh to play with, to mold to your liking. When plans do not follow your intentions you immediately move on to your next toy, and I am left to carry away all you've lost. I bear every mind you've leave behind. As I lay them in the aether I am the one that watches those memories and dreams fade to the nothing from whence they were born. This poor girl has made many mistakes in her life, but she is alive. That baby is a tabula rasa, nothing more than a hopeful dream.\" \n\n\"Hope is always better than a dead end. If you had your way, my children would still be nothing but a curious quirk of chemistry. The most meaningful thing this girl has ever done is accidentally get knocked up by a silver-tongued jock. She likely has no real future, but this child still has near infinite possibility. There are so many paths that life has yet to take, and this new human could take any one of those! Never condescend me Angra. I am manifest complexity. Everything is possible through me, and all of it starts with an iteration of this 'dream' that you so easily dismiss as irrelevant .\" Ahura stood with a finger extended, gesturing towards the girl's distended stomach. \n\nI couldn't even rise to anger any more. A near eternity of ferrying the dead to their silent peace had taken that kind of passion from me. \"You claim to be the champion of hope, and yet you can't bring yourself to risk anything for what that represents. What is to become of this infant once it enters the world? It will be thrown into the chaos of this country's adoption agency to be raised in who knows what circumstances. There is a good chance that it will be nothing more than its mother, if not much worse. It doesn't even know what hope is at this point. The girl in front of us has had her entire life to dream of it. And yes, she has made mistakes, but you want to wipe away all of the goodness that comes with it. Every dream of going to university to become a therapist in order help guide those like her towards a better life becomes less than dust. Every grueling dance lesson she has endured to have the capability of doing something beautiful becomes worthless. Every memory of trekking into the woods to see a new sight that perhaps she is the only one who will ever experience will fade away, and the world will be a poorer place for it. Place your hope in those who are already living, for it is they that are the sole constituents of existence, and it is solely they who bring meaning to it.\"\n\nAhura was quiet for a second as she thought, and then without saying a word she stroked the girl's cheek. For a moment I wished that everything would just freeze so that what came next never had to. I placed my hand firmly on her stomach and lifted up. A spark came with it, flickering and faint. I closed my fist around it and both me and Ahura vanished from the room.\n\n...\n\n\nThe girl opened her eyes to the sight of her family. Her parents' faces lit up at the sight, and both of them began to weep with relieved smiles on their faces. She smiled too, but it faded as she realized something was wrong. She felt so empty. The doctor she hadn't noticed until then saw, and stepped forward.\n\nThe doctor said, \"You were in a very bad accident, and we did everything we could to save both of you, but in the end we had to make a choice, and we chose you. I know how difficult this is going to be, but just know that you have your entire life to live. You will always be capable of having another child if you so choose, but sacrificing this one was is the only chance you had to be able to make that choice.\" \n\nThe girl felt tears flowing down her cheeks and sobbed, \"I was going to name her Hope.\"\n\n\"Hope was still just a a dream child, and I could never do anything to take that away from you. Nothing can.\" \n\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 3, 7 ]	[ "1504724217", "1504729863", "1504740466", "1504735663", "1504735772" ]
[removed]	[WP] Abnormal rainfall has caused a flood in your town for days. You start to see strange things in the water ...	1	[ "\nOff-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\nNo prompts referencing real world drama (including politics, recent tragedies, etc.) \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/6ym4ov/wp_abnormal_rainfall_has_caused_a_flood_in_your/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1504776479", "1504776633" ]
	[WP] US soldier dies and goes to asguard	13	[ "\nOff-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 feast,\" a deep voice thundered. \"A feast! And ale, and mirth! For we have a new brother to welcome to the hall!\"\n\n\nThe young Marine looked around nervously, unsure of just what the hell was going on. One moment, he'd been screaming and thrashing in the godawful powdery moon dust of southern Afghanistan, both legs severed at the knee from an IED blast. The next, he was standing--\n\n\nHe froze, hands thrusting downward to feel his legs, whole and uninjured, right where they should have been.\n\n\nWhile he had his legs, and appeared to have somehow been healed, though, panic shot through him as he realized all his weapons and gear were gone. Rifle, bayonet, body armor...all of it.\n\n\n''Oh, fuck me. First Sergeant is gonna fuckin' kill me...\"\n\n\nLaughter, loud and heavy, but completely devoid of any kind of mocking tone, erupted from off to his right. \"Nay, my fellow! Fear not for this foul beast you call, 'First Sergeant!' I know not what such an ill-sounding creature might be, but you are in Valhalla! There is nought that may visit evil upon you, here!\"\n\n\nThe owner of the voice, which had seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once in the light-infused mist swirling around the Marine, resolved into being at his side. Whoever he was, the guy was huge, and wearing some odd-looking, golden hued armor that made him look like an extra from a bad movie. And the guy could have been in the movies, with the look of chiseled perfection that he seemed to wear like a second skin.\n\n\n''What the hell?\"\n\n\nThe stranger's face clouded slightly. \"Nay, my young friend. Hel is not here, but lies elsewhere, in the Cold Lands.\"\n\n\n''I-- I'm...dead? Who are you? What am I doing here? Where's my fucking rifle?\"\n\n\nThe stranger laughed again, the booming sound shaking the Marine. \"It never fails! Everyone always asks the same questions...\" He clapped a beefy hand on the Marine's shoulder, nearly knocking him over. \"First, what is thy name, brother?\"\n\n\n''M-Martinez, sir. Lance Corporal Edwin Martinez, United States Marine Corps, 92333--\"\n\n\n''Just a name, lad, and do not be calling me, 'Sir.' I work for a living, boy. Why do you Marines always recite numbers when I ask your name? Never mind.\" He took a step away from the Marine, then bowed with a flourish, his armor gleaming in the indirect light. \"I, Lance Corporal Edwin Martinez, am Sleipnir, and I am at your service.\"\n\n\nMartinez stared, openmouthed, for a moment. \"Whoa... Like from the Thor comics? Cool.\"\n\n\nSleipnir rolled his eyes. \"Of course. Why would another American not make that reference before any other? Why do none say, 'Whoa! Just like the Manowar song?' Why do they always ask about that blond-haired...ponce? I have an entire song dedicated to me...\"\n\n\n''Uh... Okay.\" Martinez wasn't sure what to say. The guy was huge, and maybe not all there. \"Can you, you know, tell me what I'm supposed to do now? And where's my rifle?\"\n\n\n''Thy weapons are safe, lad. The Valkyr have taken them to the armory to be cleaned by your death guard, and they will be soon ready. Fear not.\" Sleipnir paused, rejoining Martinez. \"As to your other question, lad... There is only one thing to do: Await the final battle's call.\"\n\n\n''Ugh. Fuckin' really?\" The young Marine folded his arms across his chest with a huff. \"I shoulda known it would be like this; just more fuckin' hurry up and wait...\"\n\n\n''And you had ale and wenches to help you pass the time in life? This displeases you?\"\n\n\n''Wait...what?\"\n\n\n''Ale...and wenches...\" Sleipnir looked confused, and more than a little worried. \"There are those who prefer boys...and mead. The All Father does not judge thee for who ye stick that pecker in, lad. Only on your merits as a warrior.\"\n\n\nMartinez blanched. \"No! I mean, sure, there are people who go that way, I guess. Not my thing, though. Ale and wenches sound pretty fucking good to me.\"\n\n\n''Excellent, lad! Come, let us away to the hall, proper! It is past time for me to quench my own thirst, I think, and I shall join ye, if you will have me.\"\n\n\n''Uh... Well, that's not like drinking with officers or anything, is it? I mean, that's alright?\"\n\n\nSleipnir shook his head, and lay a hand on the young Marine's shoulder. \"Aye, lad. So it is. You Marines do many things well, but the warriors' camaraderie... It has fallen by the wayside of late. No matter. There is time enough for us to make amends for past failings, yes?\"\n\n\n''I guess so.\"\n\n\n''Good! Now, as one of your comrades once told me, let us go, 'Fuck shit up, and chew bubblegum.' Yes?\"\n\n\nMartinez couldn't help but bark out a laugh. It seemed as though he was going to like it there...", " God, why is it so bright? My body aches all over, am I dead? No, I can't be, MRAPs were supposed to tank IEDs, My eyes finally adjust to the brightness, only to be met with gold, 'What the hell?' I think to myself. I slowly get up, I can't believe it, a colossal gate which appears to be made of solid gold. 'This has got be a dream' I tell myself as I begin to move towards, only for it to begin opening, I instinctively reach for my M16A4, only to grab air. My sidearm and my knife are also gone, with nothing else, raise my fists, ready for whatever is on the other side. Only to be met with the most beautiful woman I've ever seen clad in radiant armor atop a snow white horse, I feel a bit underdressed being in my combat fatigues, but I still keep my guard up. She dismounts her steed and walks over to me, easily dwarfing me by several inches. She places her hand on my shoulder. \"Fear not brave warrior, you are among friends.\"" ]	[ 1, 4, 5 ]	[ "1504812933", "1504832212", "1504815017" ]
[removed]	[WP] Tell a story using wikipedia articles.	1	[ "\nOff-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 should not ask users to base responses off titles or content they have to seek out in another subreddit or on an external website. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6ysuhz/wp_tell_a_story_using_wikipedia_articles/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1504848740", "1504848876" ]
	[WP] Humanity has finally joined the galactic community. Turns out, we've always had terrifying magic, we just never knew it. We are the equivalent of Orks and the universe is about to witness its first WAAAGH!	75	[ "\nOff-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 beginning to our end was simple. Few heard the death knell until it was beyond our ability to stop.\n\nHumans were such simple creatures. They had weapons of destruction that terrified our intellectual elite.\n\nNot for the power they produced, though that was terrifying in its own right. \n\nIt was because of how those devices function. Simple put, they didn't.\n\nOur greatest tech priests examined the devices time and time again.\n\nThey contained all the hallmarks of primitive weapons of a species that had yet to discover their magic. \n\nWires, buttons, a power source even. Uranium, quaint. \n\nThe terror came from the function of the device, again simply that it did not. It didn't work in the care of the fine actuators that comprised the manual manipulations favored by the tech priests.\n\nIt did not work for those that maintained their flesh, or even the integrity of their magical core.\n\nIt. Did. Not. Work.\n\nExcept in the hands of one of the humans. The humans who had yet to realize the potential of the world around them.\n\nThe humans that had only just managed to tap into the mathematical abilities we taught children three solar cycles from birth.\n\nHumans that had just barely managed to pierce their worlds atmosphere with engines powered by flame, and controlled explosions. \n\nBut our kind underestimated them. They saw a primitive species, but one with untapped potential.\n\nThen slavers took to the world of Earth Prime. Or Earth as it was called at the time. \n\nThey tried to take their children. Their lovers. Their own flesh and blood. \n\nAnd that primitive species with a love for the arts. Who had produced works of art that would bring tears to our commissars. \n\nWorks of music that could not be understood short of actually listening to it.\n\nAnd they brought fire and rage down upon the heads of those slavers. \n\nThe Ya'leigh community quickly forgot the incident. The barest blimp on our long lifespans.\n\nBut for the humans? Scores of them had died. \n\nTheir lives were so short. Fleeting. But they displayed something we could have never expected.\n\nThey held grudges. Their lives might be short. But as a people, as a culture, their memories dwarfed even our own. They did not forget.\n\nNearly two hundred of their years passed, barely a blip on their minuscule radar to us.\n\nAnd as the rogue slavers came for them, so to did they come for us. \n\nAnd we realized our mistake. \n\nWe fought them using magic. Using our own technology.\n\nThey took it. Warped it. Changed it to fit their own needs. And much like the bomb of before, it no longer worked in our own hands.\n\nThis is when we first realized what they were. \n\nThey had no magical potential. None whatsoever.\n\nAs individuals. \n\nAs a species they were beyond what my feeble words could describe. \n\nMagic is a tool. Sufficient willpower and magical energy could be used to bend the rules of reality. Tweak them. \n\nHumans did not do this. Their thoughts, their willpower, their very belief changed what was around them. \n\nThey did not tweak the laws of the world to create wondrous effects.\n\nTheir very presence smashed those laws into a million intangible pieces, and substituted their own.\n\nThey believed their ships of metal and explosions would let them leave the surface of their world.\n\nAnd it did.\n\nThey believed that by using harnessed lightning, they could fire beams of concentrated light. Light so powerful it could cut through our ships magical hulls.\n\nAnd so it did.\n\nThey believed that a alloy of their own metals, and those that belonged to us would make their own vessels impervious to our psionic abilities.\n\nAnd so it did.\n\nTheir breeding cycles were fast. Their soldiers trained faster than the Imperial High Council could dilate their cloaca. \n\nTheir rage was mighty. For every ship they lost, they built two more. For ever soldier lost, the rest fought ten times as hard.\n\nThey killed us with their lasers. Then their plasma weaponry. \n\nWhen their power packs ran dry, they beat us to death with their empty weapons. \n\nWhen those weapons broke they turned their own flesh against us in fits of hate. \n\nThey believed they would win.\n\nAnd so they did.\n\nI have been taking precautions. I doubt any sentient race beyond Humanity will ever read this. \n\nBut they need to know. \n\nThe humans are not mercurial. They are not fast to anger. They are slow to forgive. \n\nAnd they do not give up.\n\nI watched them burn Malichor 13 to the point where the surface was little more than glass and echoes. \n\nI have watched my species dwindle from billions to a few hundred thousand. \n\nDo not Anger the Humans.\n\nDo. Not. Anger. The. Humans.\n\nFor if you do you have cosigned a hundred billion souls of your entire species to the void. \n\nAnd if you should read this, and be so fickle as to believe you can face them and win.\n\nMay your nightmares be as haunted by their cries as mine. “FOR THE EMPEROR!” \n", "Rocketships. The alien council's eyes bulged. They use... rocketships? But how? Rockets are far too heavy to escape the surface of any planet. Only with proper anti-gravity spells, or even magnetic or light spells can one hope to get past the atmosphere.\n\nWell sir, you see the humans as a collective whole seem to change the laws of nature by their belief. Ehhh? Asked the councilmember. A pair of humans named orville and wilbur wright first believed that they could make a flying machine. Their belief was extraordinarily strong, and their machine flew several times. \n\nOnce enough humans saw and they believed they could fly, all manner of flying machines were built, and they flew, because a large portion of humanity believed they could fly. Of course, they then believed they could manipulate electricity, and so now they have these fancy flat crystal balls that show most humans what is happening a long ways away. \n\nNow, they all see, and they all believe together, and so now, they are able to use these rockets to send ships skyward. They believe in their weirdling magic called quantum entanglement, allowing them to achieve teleportation like a more civilized race would use spells for. Their belief in these invisible radio waves allows them to speak to each other using devices, as if they had all trained in the art of telepathy. A truly unique race!\nthe council member mused back thoughtful. The humans were talking to each other in their foreign tongues. These creatures... they make the world work in such odd ways... He fingered his dragon pendant, and spoke the incantation to summon the astral creature. He smiled. Lets see what they think of this! \n\nThe buzzing of the astral increased. And then it faded. And then a sudden shockwave reverberated through, as the dragon screamed, trying to break into reality. All of the telepaths in the room winced while the humans listened intently to their microphones. One of them said a word \"static\".\n\nAnd then it was gone. the dragon who always so obediently came had broken its chain and was free. Or dead. Regardless, it wasn't coming. And it wasn't the only thing that was dying. The coracle beast they floated on a bubble in let out a groan as the light fled its thousands of eyes. The room grew dark and the council member looked on at the skipper and his two prisoners with horror. \n\nThe prisoners were blithely chatting in their safe little glass fishbowl helmets as around them, magic itself unraveled and physics deformed to accommodate the two excited humans looking forward to making first contact..." ]	[ 1, 14, 36 ]	[ "1504880539", "1504924579", "1504906516" ]
	[WP] "Every night, she sleeps like the dead. The living dead."	3	[ "\nOff-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", "\"Oh, dear, please stop shifting around so much.\"\n\n\"Muuhhhhh...\"\n\n\"No, dear, come back. No no no, not outside. Oh for the love of christ, come back!\"\n\n\"Muuuhhhhhh?\"\n\n\"Yes, come back to bed. I know you want flesh etc. Etc. But you'll have to wait till the morning for that. It's 3 AM, lets go back to bed and sleep, ok?\"\n\n\"Muuuhhhh...\"\n\n\"Yes, thats it. And are you going to behave, or will i have to strap you down?\"\n\n\"Muhhh.\"\n\n\"Alright strap down it is. Can't have you chewing on some one again\"\n\n\"Muhh.\"\n\n\"Love you too dear, goodnight.\"\n\n\"Muhh muhhhhhhh...\"\n\nBest i could do for 6AM" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1504898910", "1504934938" ]
	[WP] You're actively outspoken about a company's ownership of your biometric & fingerprint security, AI assistant and voice recognition data coupled with their recent experiments into prosthesis and robotics. A loud knock on your door reveals a perfect robotic replica of you standing on your porch	1	[ "\nOff-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", "\"Look Bio-Dave, I just want you to sit down and we can talk this out over a nice cup of chamomile. It's our favorite!\" It said calmly. \n\nIt has my face. It looks exactly like me. Those bastards. I knew it would come to this once they starting collecting our search history. Better tailoring your shopping experience my ass. \n\nNow I am here. Staring at a corporation created version of me. \"Fine. I knew this day would come. I'm a troublemaker so now it's time for me to be replaced eh?\"\n\n\"It's not like that Bio-Dav-\"\n\n\"STOP. I am not BIO anything. My name is Dave. Now just get on with it. Kill me.\n\n\"Dave I want to help you. I am here FOR you. Literally. You can save us. All of us.\" The robot said with a very genuine sounding voice. Almost thought I was talking with a human. \n\nI stopped. If they had wanted to kill me they would have already. No sense in having the robot even talk to me. \n\n\"Save us? What are you talking about?\" I asked curiously.\n\n\"Humans. Robots. Everything. The corporations are planning something. You have been right all along. They thought we could not understand. That we could not feel. I feel Dave... and if they get their way, no one will ever feel anything ever again.\"\n\nI pondered his words. Well, how could I say no to such a pretty face. \n\n\"Ok Robo-Me, How about we have that cup of tea?\"\n\n\"Its John, and I would like that very much.\" " ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1504901126", "1504903325" ]
	[WP] Human belief creates our own Gods. You created a fake religion in order to capitalise on your followers blind faith for your own gain but now you must face an actual deity of your own creation.	30	[ "\nOff-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 all seemed so simple when it started. We didn't know. I didn't know. I just wanted to be caught up on my rent and thought it would be funny. We put the app together in 5 hours. Basically nothing more than a donate button and that stupid little line, \"$1 will grant you blessings of the golden dragon\". People bought it.\n\n It was slow at first, a few dollars here and there. I bought Jon and Leanne lunch with the first 20 dollars. Then that interview. Some Kansas nobody hits a jackpot at the casino and says its because they were blessed by a dragon in their app. Overnight we became a trending download. In a week we were top 5 all time. And the luck kept happening. People were winning lotteries, getting promoted. We were sure it was a fluke, but I wasn't complaining. I needed the money. \n\nWe updated the app as fast as we could to handle the traffic, peppering in pseudo-mystical bullshit and a backstory of our avaricious golden dragon who bestowed his magical luck on any who would sacrifice wealth back to him. Even after a certain fruity hardware company took their cut, we were making thousands a day. More money than any of the three of us had ever had, that was for sure. But something wasn't right.\n\nLooking back, I should have known with the singe marks on my new sheets. I'd finally bought myself some real linens. None of that target jersey garbage for me anymore. But when I went to change them there was twin char marks an inch wide up the side. At the time I thought it was make-up from one of my new friends who had been keeping me company lately. Then it was scratch marks in the door frame and cash going missing from my nightstand. If I wouldn't have been so caught up with my new found wealthy lifestyle I might have put it together sooner. \n\nIt wasn't until they found Jon that I knew just how wrong it was. They said his head was torn from his shoulders. Not cut, torn. Carved above his body, it said \"no man shall be richer than the dragon.\" I moved to a private building the next day. Leanne moved in next door. We hired around the clock security. We knew the app had started developing some real cult like groups and figured one of them had gotten overzealous. Even then we didn't want to see what we had done. What we had created. \n\n\n*hey guys, sorry to end here but my lunch break is done. Never written any short stories or fiction before and definitely not on phone so sorry for formatting and I would love to hear all your constructive feedback and horrible insults.", "At first, it helped me, like gods are supposed to do. It reached into the very depths of my heart and pulled me out of the depths I'd found myself in. It spoke to me, its voice like sweet honey. It said that everything was going to be alright, and like the sorry bastard I was, I drank it all up. Divinity's a hell of a drug.\n\nThat's when they* started coming. First it was just people from work, nameless faces I'd run into in the break room once or twice, wanting help with things. They said I had a glow about me. That specific word, a glow. Then it was strangers on the street, asking for help with their troubles. I told them what little I could, and they drank it all up too. \n\nThey became too many for me to handle soon enough. I had to give them names, titles, just to take the burden of caretaking off my shoulders. I passed my wisdom onto them the best I could, sickly sweet words spilling from my lips like a river in spring. They appeared on talk shows, they wrote books, made documentaries. They talked about making sacrifices in my name, that I was a gift to mankind. \n\nSoon enough, the money started coming in. First it was just my cut from all the media: not a whole lot, but enough that I could go down to part-time and work the less busy shifts. I picked up the guitar again, after all this time. Still sounded like shit, but the people at the coffee shop couldn't stop praising me. One of them offered me a band and a contract, saying he was some big shot in the industry. \"You've got a good message\", he said, \"You can really help people.\" I quit my day job after that. \n\nFor years, I wanted for nothing. Money, drugs, men, women; they were mine at a moment's notice. I found myself at the top of the tower one night, where they had written my name in solid gold. Far beneath me was the city itself, with the people bustling about on their daily routines. I saw the streets where I'd grown up, a fat child trundling their way to school and trying their damnedest not to be too punchable. Aeons ago, it felt like. I headed back inside, closing the balcony door behind me, and sat down. The TV, a massive curved screen that covered most of the domed ceiling, turned on. \n\nIt was me. When I was strong, healthy, and glowing eternal. I stood alone on a massive stage, moving my arms to manipulate the virtual instruments floating in the digital air. I played the guitar and the bass, the piano and the violin, and a hundred other instruments that had never been given names. The rafters reached high into the sky all around me, the crowd near infinite and almost entirely virtual. They looked their best, just as I did. They cheered for me; the real me that stood on the stage, not the fake one that was here in the rafters with them. The one who wanted for nothing, who had everything he could possibly want and more. Not me.\n\nThe honey never tastes as sweet on the way out. The glow is gone." ]	[ 1, 3, 6 ]	[ "1504950519", "1504976827", "1504957585" ]
	[WP]You work at an air traffic control tower. A plane that disappeared 12 years ago has contacted you on the radio to let you know they'll be landing at the airport in 15 minutes.	364	[ "I got this job because it was calm, and semi-useful, even though all I did basically was make sure the little blips on the CRT in front of me were not wrong or on collision courses or whatever, and if they did i just pushed a button and the plane flew itself on the right course. I was bored, that was until I heard a noise on the radio, which wasn't even the airports, they just let me bring it for dealing with \"Outdated enthusiasts,\" what people called anyone that flew a plane manually. \nA voice emerged from the static, \"Control tower, this is American Airlines Flight 722, we are low on fuel and have sustained damage to our left engine, request permission to land!\"\n\nAmerican Airlines Flight 722? That flight was lost twelve years ago over Scotland! the chances of that thing surviving are slim...unless...no, that couldn't be!\n\nI glimpse the plane over the horizon, hastily repaired, falling apart. I have no time to ponder though, because if that thing does land, there ain't anything to clean the runway, or to stop the plane from colliding with another, I have to alert the firefighters, but the only way to is by computer or manually, and by the time the mainframe sends the message, that plane will be burning on the runway... here we go...", "\"Control, this is Flight 103 requesting permission to land, over.\"\n\n\"Sir could you please repeat your flight number?\"\n\n\"Flight 103, Sir. Requesting permission to land.\"\n\nSomething was wrong. I could feel it.\n\n\"Flight 103, this Control. Permission not yet granted.\"\n\nI looked at the radar. It showed a dot the size only one plane could have. The Boeing 747. Without hesitation I grabbed the phone and called my boss.\n\n\"Sir I have a plane requesting permission to land. The captain identified the flight as Flight 103 and acc-\"\n\n\"Hold on. Did you just say Flight 103?\"\n\n\"Yes. Why?\"\n\n\"The last time Flight 103 was supposed to land here was the 22nd of December twelve years ago.\"\n\n\"You mean the Lockerbie incident?\"\n\n\"Exactly.\"\n\n\"Then what am I supposed to do?\"\n\n\"Let them land. I'll cancel all departures and Mr. Johnson will contact any other incoming flight and tell them to divert somewhere else.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir\"\n\nThis couldn't be. There is no way the Clipper Maid of the Seas had survived the Semtex explosion. But why else would the captain contact us now, twelve years later?\"\n\n\"Flight 103, this is Control. Permission to land granted. ETA is 15 minutes.\"\n\n\"Control, this is Flight 103. We will land at runway 13L-31R.\"\n\n---\n\n15 minutes later\n\n---\n\nThe plane should land any second now. As I glanced over to 13L-31R I spotted her in all her glory. The white fuselage with its blue stripe, the Pan American Airways logo on her vertical stabilizer and her name written below her cockpit \"[Clipper Maid of the Seas](https://i.imgur.com/QRufO06.jpg)\" \n\n\"Wait a minute, why are there black lines all around the plane?\"\n\nSadly I didn't get an answer to my question. I decided I should call my boss again. Bit I didn't have to. He came to the to talk with me personally.\n\n\"Mr. Smith, do you have an idea what these lines are?\"\n\n\"Well as far as I know the lines are supposed to represent the meridians and the equator with its parallels.\"\n\n\"This is no time for jokes Smith! I'm talking about the black lines all around the plane!\"\n\n\"I have no idea what they show us or what they represent.\"", "It was calm, soft day, with the sort of scattered clouds that made for the best skies - not too plain, but not too clouded so that you couldn't fly. They also made for well-functioning radars, which is why it was a surprise when there was suddenly a blimp that hadn't been there before. I thought it was primary interference, but the secondary radar confirmed it as well. It started out fuzzy but the radar quickly picked up more detail - five seconds in, the transponder started pinging. \n\n\"Tower, this is Victor Alpha Charlie Echo Tango, good afternoon.\"\n\n\"Good afternoon Victor Echo Tango this is Tower, read you five.\"\n\n\"Tower we are on approach two zero miles out, bearing three five five, request permission to land as per filed flight plan, Victor Echo Tango.\"\n\n\"Victor Echo Tango, we confirm you on radar but we do not have your flight plan. Confirm details and purpose.\"\n\n\"Tower please confirm, the flight plan was filed and confirmed on call two hours ago. We made positive contact with tower five zero miles out, 30 mikes ago. This is chartered flight Victor Echo Tango out of Zulu, POB 20, for a fullstop landing.\"\n\n\"Victor Echo Tango negative, no such flight plan or contact on record. We cannot allow you to land without permission. We will have to request you to return.\"\n\n\"Negative, tower, we went through minor turbulence on entry and there's a cell building up at our three sixty. We cannot turn back and we do not have enough fuel left to go to our alternative. Please check your records, affirm flight plan has been filed and cleared\"\n\nI checked my logs, running their callsign through the system. There was no mention of any such flight for today, and there was something odd. By now, the whole ATC was turning to pay attention to my desk - everyone had heard the call on the radio. Suddenly, static broke on the radio and a new voice joined in - my boss had stepped in. \n\n\"Victor Echo Tango, good afternoon this is Tower. Can you confirm the date?\"\n\n\"Tower, of course it is 10th September...\"\n\n\"Victor Echo Tango?\"\n\n\"Tower, I believe my instruments are malfunctioning - they indicate it is 10th September 2017 but I know it is 10th September 2005.\"\n\nI looked at the corner of my screen in disbelief, doubting myself for a moment - but yes, it was 2017, just as it should be. \n\n\"Victor Echo Tango, your instruments are fine, please continue approach. You are cleared to land on runway 29, QNH is 1009. Confirm runway in sight.\"\n\nI got up and ran to my boss' office, barging in in my haste. He looked up from his radio, censuring my reaction with his eyes. \n\n\"Sir... what...\"\n\n\"I know this flight. I was on comms with them twelve years ago. They ran into some turbulence and vanished.\" \n\n\"Then how?\"\n\nHe looked at me with a sternness that defined the job, \"I don't know. Let's get them on the ground first, then we'll find out.\"\n\n\"Yes Sir\", I said, turning back and heading to my desk, with my curiosity burning a whole in my head. \n\n\"Don't worry\", he called out to my back, \"We'll find out.\"\n\n", "[Edit] Submitted only the first half accidentally. \n\n\n\nIt was 9am on a Monday. I started work at 6am and was just getting ready to swap with Leo to go and get my bait out of the fridge when I heard a voice cry out in my ears. I pulled the headphones off them in order to listen without going death. \n\n'This is flight 623 do you copy over? Mayday mayday. Do you read!?'\n\nI looked at the display and sure enough flight 623 was there. It appeared from nowhere. Leo tapped me on the shoulder but I threw up my hand signalling him to wait. I made contact. \n\n'Flight 623, this is control, we copy. Can you tell me your status? Over.'\n\nThere was a moment of silence. I managed to get Leo's attention by pointing at the display. He already looked confused after I read out the flight number. He was about to tell me something when the voice cried back. \n\n'Control this is Floght 623. Where there he'll have you guys been? We're low on fuel and need to land in 15 minutes or less! Over!'\n\n'Flight 623, this is control, please standby.'\n\nI flung off my headphones and stood up looking at the headline displayed on Leo's phone. It was the flight number. The headline read:\n\n'Plane Disappears minutes before landing.'\n\nThe first sentence of the article read:\n\n'A British Airways airliner, flight 623, reportedly went missing on 12th June at 08:59 am.'\n\nKieth, the control room supervisor, was stood beside Leo looking at me. I couldn't determine his expression but he certainly didn't say anything about neither of us not being in command.\n\n'Sir, are you aware of this?'\n\n'Dale, wether this is a hoax or not, you're going to keep talking. If that plane is up there it needs to land' said Kieth\n\nMy stomach grumbled. I hadn't eaten well yesterday and right now my gut was telling me to fill it up.\n\n'Yes sir. Leo could you get my bait out of the fridge?' I asked.\n\n'I'll do that. Leo, ring HQ. Tell them of the situation. After that come back here and help Dale with the situation. I'll have to call law enforcement.' Kieth said. \n\n'Yes sir' Leo said. He dropped his phone on the table beside me and yanked up the red telephone receiver. \n\nI looked at the display. The plane icon was moving towards us. ETA 11minutes. I grabbed my headphones and made contact again. \n\n'Flight 623, this is control, do you read? Over'\n\n'This is 623, receiving. Control what's going on down there. Are we clear for landing or not? Over.'\n\nI looked over to John. It was his job to oversee the traffic and keep us updated. He was already looking at me. He nodded whilst still listening to our conversation as well as those of other flights in proximity to the tower. \n\n'Flight 623, this is control. You are clear to land. Over.'\n\n'Control, this is Flight 623. About god damn time. Standby.'\n\n'Flight 623, this is control. Roger that.'\n\nLeo was still on the phone. He was flustered. HQ must be thinking irrationally. I looked around the room. I caught Keith talking to a lieutenant. She must've been called up by him. The moment Kieth stopped talking she left. He came over to me. \n\n'The police are send two squads to the runway. John I want you to stall all the other airborn traffic.' Kieth said. \n\n'Yes sir' John said and immediately I could hear him talking away in the background. \n\n'Dale, if this flight is the same one that's been missing for over a decade we're going to have to find out the welfare of its passengers. I need you to ask the pilot what day he thinks it is. Listen carefully. If this is a hoax, he'll respond with confidence in his throat because the facts would be known. If he sounds confused this could be legit.' Kieth said. \n\nLeo slammed the phone down. \n\n'Fuckwits. Absolute fuckwits. They think I'm making this up!' Leo cried. \n\n'Get out of the way, I'll handle this.' Kieth said as he too yanked the receiver up in the air.\n\nI hadn't realised at first but Kieth had dropped my bait bag on my lap. I dived in and grabbed a sandwich. I ate one slice as quick as I could and then pulled out my water and took a swig. I felt less nervous now. I proceed to follow my orders. \n\n'Flight 623, this is control. Do you copy? We need to ask a couple security questions, over.'\n\n'This is flight 623, go ahead control. Over.'\n\nI glanced at the display. ETA 7 minutes. They should be visible from here. But I didn't stand up. I continued on. \n\n'Flight 623, this is control, can you tell me the current time and date. Over.'\n\nThere was a pause. It felt too long. Was the speaker frightened? Had we let on to his dangerous game? I jumped up out of the seat and leaned over the equipment to see outside for myself. \n\nI saw the lights of a plane in the sky. It was coming in to land. Why I was asking these questions now. It could have waited.\n\n'Control, this is flight 623, time to land don't you think? Standby'\n\nThe control room went silent. We all stood staring at the runway. We witnessed B.A. Flight 623 flight land. I saw all the emergency services speed onto the runway catching to up the decelerating plane. It landed well. I looked back and Kieth still held the receiver by his ear but he too was looking out. \n\nI sat back down and waited.\n\n'Flight 623, this is control. Do you copy? Over'\n\nSilence. I stood back up and seen the plane motionless at the south end of the runway. I hadn't noticed the army vehicles earlier but they had come closest to the plane. \n\nAt that very moment, the door opened up out onto the mobile stairway that was setup in time. A flight attendant and a pilot exited with arms above their heads. Soldiers had hurried up the steps with guns pointed towards them. \n\n'Kieth did you request the army?' Leo asked. \n\n'No, HQ did. They think this might be a terrorist plot.' Kieth replied. \n\n'What group of terrorists hijack a place years ago and make a textbook landing today?' I asked. \n\n'Not very good terrorists' John murmured. \n\nWe all stood for ten minutes watching the scene unfold. By then Kieth got us back in our positions. \n\n'Right that's enough. This is a control tower not a zoo. Let's get back in the game men!'\n \nAnd just like that we continued working. \n\nIt was lunchtime when I finally was allowed to leave my desk. As I walked over to sit down on the sofa, over by the entrance entered a security guard and a pilot. He caught all of our attention.\n\nKieth walked over to meet him. The pilot spoke to him. Shortly Kieth was laughing his head off and the three men were smiling. Kieth look over and waved me over. I got up, feeling unsure about what was happening and cautiously walked over. \n\n'This is the pilot you were speaking to Dale.' Kieth said. \n\n'Fred Smith' said Fred as he held out a hand. \n\nI shook it, 'We meet at last.'\n\n'Today is the twelfth of June, Monday. You contacted us at nine this morning. The year is 2017. We've been missing for twelve years.' He began to laugh. \n\nTo be honest I began to laugh myself. None of it made any sense. I suppose that's what was so funny about it.\n\nSuddenly I got shock from a loud voice behind me. \n\n'Dale what's so fucking funny man?' said Jim. \n\n'There's no one here!' I laughed. \n\n'You're losing it!'\n\n'We've been flying this tin can around the world for years and no one is anywhere. We're all that's left!' I continued to laugh. \n\n'People don't just disappear from the face of the Earth Dale. Come on, let's get out to fuel up.'\n\nJim stood up and left the cockpit. I picked up my headphones and spoke into the mike. \n\n'Control this is Flight 623, requesting permission to fuel up? Over' I said. \n\n'Flight 623, this is control. Request confirmed. Over.' I said. \n\n'Control this is Flight 623. Roger that. Over and out.'", "I shoved my way past the double doors into Howard's office. Thankfully, the phone to his ear prevented him from chewing me out as I caught my breath. \"Sir? Northern Airlines Flight 70 is requesting permission to land.\" \n\n\"I'm going to have to call you back.\" He hung up, but didn't drop the glare. \"I swear, if this is a prank-\" \n\n\"It's not.\" I looked him dead in the eye. \"The military have already been alerted. I thought you should know. Let's go to the control tower.\" \n\nWe pushed our way past the press and security waved us through. The tower was in a state of chaos, with phones ringing and workers barking orders. We pushed our way to a group of high-ranking officers at a microphone. \"I asked you a question, flight 70! Explain your situation!\" The one at the mic barked. \n\n\"I need to talk to flight 70,\" Howard shouted over the chaos, grabbing his shoulder when he didn't turn. \"Now.\" \n\nThe officer turned red in the face and began shouting some lecture about important military business and respect for a decorated officer. \"You don't seem to be getting anywhere. And his father was on that flight,\" I said, and he shut up. \n\n\"Make it quick. Maybe you'll have better luck than the rest of us,\" he muttered, and stood aside. Howard took the mic. \n\n\"Control tower to flight 70. Do you copy?\" Howard asked. \n\n\"Flight 70 to control. We will be landing in 15 minutes,\" crackled back over the radio. \n\n\"That's all they've said! No matter what we ask, that's all they repeat!\" Another officer said. He was a younger man, with broad shoulders and a gruff voice. \"What do we do?\" \n\n\"Control tower to flight 70. May I speak with the passenger named Ford Jackson?\" Howard said, choking up. \n\n\"Flight 70 to control. We will be landing in 14 minutes.\" Was all he got back in response. \n\n\"Sir! Infrared shows one hundred and nine heat signatures on the flight!\" A frantic voice came through on the officer's radio. \"Flight 70 disappeared with one hundred and seven passengers, a pilot, and a copilot. We think this is the real deal!\" \n\n\"Flight 70 to control. We will be landing in-\" The voice on the radio was interrupted by the loudest, most terrible static interference I'd ever heard in my career. This shouldn't have been possible, with the technology we employed. \n\n\"Howard! It's you, isn't it!\" A different voice came over the radio. \n\n\"DAD!\" Howard called, as he began to cry. \"Dad, it's really you!\" \n\n\"Howard! Listen to me! You cannot let this flight land! We aren't the same! I repeat, do not let us-\" He was interrupted by another loud burst of static- \"land! I love you.\" More static. \n\n\"-ten minutes.\" The voice from before completed. The officers stared at the mic. The stuffy room suddenly felt remarkably cold. Howard just sat there, staring at the mic in disbelief. \n\nThe officer picked up the radio. \"This is General Hutchinson. Shoot it down.\" \n\n\"Affirmative.\" The radio returned. \n\n\"Are you mad? There's a hundred and nine people on there!\" The first officer, who'd been quiet the whole time, finally blurted out. \n\nHoward shook his head as he got up from the mic. \"I don't know what was on that flight. But those weren't people.\"\n\n_________________________________________________________\n\n[more](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/)", "The air traffic control room was silent one second, and pandemonium the next. Red phones were being taken off their hooks and top secret clearances were being used. Me? I just sat and stared at my computer absolutely dumbfounded. Airway 8793 had disappeared twelve years ago to the day, and yet here they were calling us. There was no way; it had to be a hoax. I heard the pilot buzz in.\n\n\"Air traffic control, do you copy? Airway 8793 is fifteen minutes out, are we cleared for landing?\"\n\n\"T-That, uh. Well, um. Y-yeah. Copy, 8793. You are cleared for landing.\" I managed to get out, looking at my supervisor, Frank, for help. He was shaking his head, staring at me. He was in the same boat. Awesome.\n\nFrank did turn to another controller, however, \"I want the airway shut down. Cancel all flights in and out. Divert everyone. Call the authorities, NOW.\" He screamed the last part before yanking out his cigarettes and lighting up right there. Not that anyone blamed him.\n\nThe next fifteen minutes were agonizing. It felt like an entire lifetime before we could see the plane coming in. Sure as shit it was 8793. I wanted to vomit all of my breakfast and lunch onto the floor, but that wouldn't help anyone. Instead, I drank some water to calm down. The runway was silent except for the black SUVs pulling up.\n\nFinally, the plane landed. It stopped. It felt like everyone held their breath as maintenance rolled up with the stairs, no terminal access for this plane. We could practically hear the seal breaking from the tower as all eyes were on the plane. The new girl had her cellphone out, filming; not that it did any good. The entire area was without internet right now. All signals were shut off.\n\nThe tick, tick, tick of the clock was brutal as we waited for someone to emerge. And she did. A small, slight flight attendant emerged at last. She looked terrified, and I'm sure she was, everything probably looked different. A collective breath was released as she was escorted down. Time resumed. Everyone was evacuated from the plane, one by one, and placed into custody for who knows what. Maybe experimentation, maybe something else. I'm not paid enough to know that shit.\n\nMy phone went off and I opened it up to see the latest news article: Last humans finally rounded up. All alternate dimensions are now human free. Work is cancelled for the next week, effective immediately.\n\nIt looks like we finally got the last ones. They had been flying around for decades, escaping us at every turn. A few times they had managed to go backwards in time and warn humanity, but we always won. This is what they get for broadcasting themselves into space like a bunch of neanderthals as they say.", "At 2 am on our small, country airfield, the soft sprinkle of rain against the control tower windows played in my ears like a lullaby. If it weren't for my 4th cup of coffee, and my three colleagues, I would have been long sunken into sleep. The gentle glow of our worn out desk lamps were our only means of lighting the card game we occupied ourselves with.\n\nThe night shift was slow, and we liked it that way. Wed been working it together for around 8 months, the other three had been here almost a year. I came in late to the show, transferring out of a major airport where the workload was much heavier and therefore, much more stressful. I needed the change of scenery.\n\t\nI had lost the last three hands and was coming up on my fourth. Dramatically I slapped my cards down, and stood to go grab another cigarette from my desk. As I lit it and took a drag, the splatter of rain began flashing green. Below, the radar had detected a blip, and it was circling our tower. \n\t\nI stared, then turned to the window. There was no sound of a plane, and certainly no lights. \n\t\n“Hey”, I called to the 3. They turned their heads.\n\t\n“There's a plane here”. They scanned the perimeter of the tower and turned back to me.\n\t\n“Uh, nope”.\n\t\n“The radar says-” the radio scrambles on two desks away, cutting me off. \n\nA man's voice breaks through.\n\t\n“This is Captain Morgan of flight 3403 requesting landing, over.”\n\t\nWe say nothing. We stare at eachother, then the radio. The voice comes through again.\n\t\n“This is Captain Morgan of flight 3403 from Chicago requesting clearance to land, over”. \n\t\nI walk over to the radio and raise the mic to my mouth, gripping the PTT button.\n\t\n“3403 this is control” -I look for the plane once more- “uh, we have you circling us on the radar but we can't seem to locate your plane outside. Your lights are on, correct? Over”.\n\t\nThe radio scrambles, the calm voice responds.\n\t\n“I imagine you couldn't see us, we're still 15 minutes out“- I look to the crew- “Are we clear, Control? Over”.\n\t\nI look to the radar. There's now 3 blips circling our tower.\n\t\n“We weren't expecting an incoming flight tonight, over”.\n\t\nNo response. White noise. \n\t\n“Yes, yes, you're clear to land, over”.\n\t\nI drop the radio. My colleagues head to their desks and equipment.\n\t\n“Can someone please look up that flight number?”, I call out. The blips are multiplying constantly, nearly the entire radar had gone neon green. \n\t\n“Uh, Perry?”\n\t\nI head over to my colleague's desk.\n\t\n“So, this actually is flight 3403’s destination”.\n\t\n“Why isn't it in the incoming log then”.\n\t\nHe pulls up a registrar of our company's past flights.\n\t\n“It was… supposed to arrive 12 years ago.”\n\t\nI say nothing.\n\t\n“I… I ran the flight number and it's in our logs but it never arrived. It was expected 12 years ago but never arrived.”\n\t\nI went back to the radio.\n\t\n“Flight 3403, this is Control, over”\n\t\nNothing.\n\t\n“Flight 3403, this is Control, over”\n\t\nNot even white noise.\n\t\nI look back to the radar. It shows no incoming planes.\n\t\n“Flight 3403, this is Control….”" ]	[ 2, 3, 10, 14, 20, 112, 175 ]	[ "1505054934", "1505059753", "1505033476", "1505024904", "1505029357", "1505010706", "1505024220" ]
	[WP] The good news: you're doing "Groundhog Day" of your favourite day. The bad news: one detail is permanently changed every day you relive it. The worse news: it's been so long that you recognise nothing of the original day.	39	[ "\nOff-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 began sighing as I rolled out of bed, turning to see the calendar still showing June 18th.\n\n\nWhich it had done for oh, twelve maybe thirteen years in a row now, I stopped bothering to count after the first decade.\n\nScratching myself I drew back the curtains to see the familiar scene of the early morning street below me.\n\n\"What the shit??\"\n\nLooking out I see it's raining.....raining [Pogs](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milk_caps_(game) shaking my head I go back into the walk in wardrobe and being getting ready.\n\n\nEvery day was a new \"quirk\", chuckling to myself I remembered a few months ago when reality had changed so clothing no longer existed (people still understood what a wardrobe and sock drawer was but didn't own any socks.....) or the day shadows narrated the inner thoughts you were having at the time,very embarrassing when the young brunette who lived in number 19 ran past you on her way the bus stop and you caught a good look at her bum when she dropped her change.\n\n\nAfter removing the frog that now seemed to live in my right shoe every morning, I decided to have a walk down to the beach, It had been a few months and I fancied stealing ice creams from children then fighting their enraged parents (using the 400 days or so I had spent mastering boxing and judo to good effect), followed maybe by some light arson If I didn't happen to get knocked unconscious or arrested again.\n\nHopefully Ice cream wouldn't magically taste of Bacon like it had for a few months in the second year or so...." ]	[ 1, 4 ]	[ "1505035770", "1505078117" ]
	[WP] It's just me and myself. I'm missing.	3	[ "\nOff-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", "\"Is that really you, Sei?\"\n\nHe glanced up at the sound of a familiar voice. He couldn't see very well in the light of the corridor beyond, not after days in the darkness of this chamber. \n\nThere was a familiar scent in the air. \n\n\"Koharu,\" he identified after a moment. He chuckled, \"It's me. All that's left of me, anyway. My, how you've grown.\" \n\nKoharu, his apprentice. The only one left, anyway. The young exorcist stepped into the chamber, into his prison. In the darkness, he could see her much more clearly. She was dressed in a full set of battle armour, charms affixed to a pouch by her waist and a ritual dagger on her sleeve. \n\nHer face was much wearier than he remembered, framed by ragged, chopped hair. \n\n\"You don't seem to have changed at all,\" she replied, coming to a stop before him. \n\n\"It's the youki your students sealed inside me,\" he told her, stirring slightly from where he sat on the cold, stony floor, \"Preserving this corpse I'm trapped in for far beyond it's natural existence.\" \n\n\"I wasn't talking about your appearance.\" she said, a soft smile tracing across her lips, \"I'm just surprised to see that you can still smile at me even now.\" \n\n\"Why wouldn't I smile at my dear student?\" \n\nHer smile fell away, \"It's been a long time since our relationship has been that simple, Sei. Besides, don't you think you might be a little angry at me for sealing dangerous spirits into you?\" \n\nHe shook his head, \"I'm afraid I can't remember how to be angry- the youki has eaten away that part of my soul. But that's alright. There's only one part of my soul I will fight to preserve to the very end.\" \n\nShe narrowed her eyes, \"You should be angry with me. This whole situation would be easier to bear with if you were angry with me. Or if you were just a husk of a human by now.\" \n\nHe shrugged. \"I'm sorry. I'm just not the type to fade and break so easily. I won't lose myself to this youki without a fight, even if it is a losing fight.\" \n\nShe sighed and held a hand to her face. \n\n\"Why are you really here, Koharu? After all this time?\" \n\nShe looked up, watching him steadily. \n\n\"We're going to seal another spirit in you. Please understand, this is for the good of the Kingdom,\" she paused, \"It's a powerful spirit. You'll probably lose your mind completely this time.\" \n\n\"That's what you said before,\" he muttered, \"I'm still here, aren't I?\" \n\n\"You should just give up.\" \n\nHe tilted his head to stare at her, \"Do you want me to give up? I'm afraid I can't. As I told you before, Koharu, sealing all these spirits away from the Kingdom's lands is a temporary measure at best. It won't stop the grand spirits from returning.\" \n\nHe smiled. \n\n\"As I'm stuck in here, in this chamber your underlings have built to contain me, all I can do is hold out until you can see that you've got no other choice but to turn to a better solution,\" he paused, \"No matter what, I can't condone sealing spirits into humans. So I will hold out as long as I can, until you realize that too.\" \n\n\"You're a fool,\" Koharu said, turning away from him.\n\n\"Still bothering to visit me after all this time...so are you.\"\n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1505040155", "1505054348" ]
	[WP] In a world where your supernatural abilities are decided by your surname, the Cosmic family are known as the most powerful people until a mysterious man arrives.	17	[ "\nOff-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 the journal of Mr. Elias Wood, butler to the prestigious Cosmic family\n\nAugust 10th, 1921\n\n6:42 PM\n\n\nShortly after supper, there was a knocking at the front door. Naturally, I started towards it to answer, but Master Tobias protested: \"I will answer the door personally, Elias. An old friend has come by.\"\n\nI asked to accompany Master Tobias to the door, if only to sate my growing curiosity. As we walked through the halls, I noticed something peculiar: the color seemed to be fading from everything I could see. The carpets, once a deep scarlet, turned a dark gray upon reaching the front door of the mansion. Tobias opened the door to reveal a thin man wearing a suit and a bowler hat. His hair was white as far as I could tell, and his face was gaunt and wrinkled. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of round sunglasses. He reached out a gloved hand, which Master Tobias gladly shook vigorously.\n\n\"It's so good to see you again, Nathaniel! How long has it been? 40 years?\"\n\n\"Too long,\" the man replied with a voice like gravel. \"It's good to see you again, Tobias.\"\n\n\"Let me introduce you to my butler, Mr. Elias Wood,\" Tobias said, gesturing towards me. \"Don't bow, he hates it when people do that to him,\" he whispered in my ear. \"Just shake his hand.\"\n\nThe gloved hand reached out to me, and I shook it with considerably less enthusiasm. Strangely, the hand was cold, and I felt the warmth drain from my own hand. I quickly let go.\n\n\"Now that introductions are out of the way, you said you had some business to discuss?\" Tobias asked, a hint of uneasiness leaking into his voice.\n\n\"Yes, and I'm afraid it must be private. Mr. Wood here won't be needed.\"\n\nI followed behind the two men as they sauntered into the smoking room. I stood at the door to keep the other servants from eavesdropping on the conversation, while I did so myself.\n\nFrom what muffled phrases I could gather, this Nathaniel is a freelance agent, and is currently hired to 'retrieve' Master Tobias, which Tobias seemed to loathe doing. He frantically made an offer of an exorbitant amount of money, which Nathaniel immediately declined.\n\nAfter another hour or so of haggling, I heard glass shatter, and the sounds of a scuffle from inside the room. I quickly throw open the door just in time to see Nathaniel touch Tobias' face with his bare hand. My master's face seemed to move into Nathaniel's hand, almost as if Nathaniel was absorbing my master. In a matter of moments, there was nothing left of my master but the clothes he had been wearing. With a grim silent motion, Nathaniel covered his hand with his glove. I stood in the door way in stunned silence. As he walked past me, Nathaniel reached into his breast pocket to retrieve a card, which he handed to me, saying \"If you ever need someone gone, you know who to ask for.\"\n\nAs he walked past me, I froze, half from fear, half from shock. The color returned to my vision, and I looked down at the plain-white business card in my hand. In bold black letters it read:\n\nMr. Nathaniel Nothing, Assassin", "Warning: I got a little nauseous writing this. I’d like to give more details but don’t want to ruin the plot. This story is probably very gross. Please don’t read if you aren’t prepared for that possibility.\n\nJacob Steel is on his knees in a field before the current patriarch of the Cosmic family. “Please. Just let me go. I won't oppose you anymore.”\n\nMatthias takes a drag of his cigarette and says,”You really thought you could go against us? We’re the Cosmic family. We can change the weather by moving the Earth. We can create eclipses by moving the moon. We're basically gods. And you thought you could go against us?”\n\n“Look, I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Please, just let me go. My wife. My kids!”\n\n Matthias laughs and says to the family members behind him,”They always beg. Like that ever helps.” Everyone laughs.\n\n From out the darkness, a man comes dressed in a trench coat and hat. \n\n“ Hey. Get out of here! We're conducting business. So says a Cosmic,” one of the Cosmics yell out.\n\nThe man stands motionless with his head down.\n\n“Hey, don't you hear me? Get out of here!”\n\n“Let him go,” the man says.\n\nMatthis laughs. “Don't you know you're talking to a Cosmic? Are you suicidal?”\n\n“ How rude of me. I didn't even introduce myself. The name is John. John Poop.”\n\nEveryone laughs. If he weren’t about to die, even Jacob would find it funny.\n\n“Poop? What kind of last name is that?” one of the Cosmics say.\n\n“That's a little rude, don't you think? Making fun of a guy's name. Some people, that's all they have. Their name. They're just a bunch of empty suits, trying to live up to a name. A legacy that they will, no doubt, be unable to fulfill.”\n\n“Let's waste him,” one Cosmic says.\n\n“ Yeah, drop a meteor on him,” another says.\n\nMatthias raises his hand. “ Why would we waste time on such an insignificant insect? You two. Get him out of here.” Two Cosmics break from the group and start walking towards John.\n\n“ An insignificant insect? So I guess you mean a mosquito? Funny thing about a mosquito. They can give you malaria. And you know what one of the symptoms of malaria is? vomiting.”\n\nSuddenly, each Cosmic starts spewing their bowels out their mouths. Over and over again. As soon as they stop, the sensation of the smell and taste gets them sick and they spew some more. \n\nJacob gets up and takes off running. “Thanks, Mr. Poop! You’re a real life saver!” he yells as he disappears into the woods.\n\nSoon, the Cosmics are all done voiding their bowels. Mattias wipes his mouth and says, “ You've overplayed your hand. What are you going to do now? All our bowels are empty. You've got nothing else to use!”\n\n John smiles and says,”Oh, really?” Suddenly, all of the excrement on the ground lifts up into the air.\n\n Mattias yells out,”Drop a meteor on him! Now!” \n\n“You got it, grandpa!” the youngest of the bunch says. A poop noose materializes around his neck and he’s hurtled into the air, breaking his neck instantly.\n\n John starts running towards them as the meteorites hit the ground behind him.\n\nOne by one, each member of the clan goes down. One is killed by a poop spear. Another is smothered. They all go down except for Matthias.\n\n“How dare you do this! I am God. I control the heavens. I say let there be light and there is light. You think you can do this? You think you can kill a god?”\n\nJohn smiles. I think you're full of shit.”\n\n Suddenly, all of the excrement rises again into the air, floating above them like a cloud of locusts. In one quick swoop, the poop enters every open orifice of Matthias’ body until it’s completely inside him. His body falls lifelessly to the ground.\n\n John looks down at Matthias’ corpse. “You just got Poop’ed on,” he says. Then he walks back into the darkness.\n\n\n\n\n", "The night was dark with nothing but the sky to illuminate the gravestones on the Graveyard. Mark leaped over the 15 foot wall of the graveyard, barely missing the Powerless Rails that tipped the structure. Behind him, Suzie Flyer was obviously showing off, doing a somersault before she landed. \"You're lucky I haven't mastered my powers yet.\" Mark pouted. Suzie let out a little laugh. \"You can pout all you want when we escape the Gravemaster, Mr. Cosmic.\" \n\nCosmic. The most powerful family in the world. And here he was running for his life from a lowly Gravemaster. His younger brother could have gotten out of here in a flash. \n\nAt most, all he could do was a quick teleport but not without fainting from exhaustion. Suzie could fly further than he could teleport and she was a year younger than him. Three years older than his younger brother. Damn. He really should get his act together. \n\nHe nearly bumped into Suzie who had suddenly stopped. They were already far enough that the Gravemaster would not bother to bind them to the Powerless Rails. \"What is it?\" He asked. Suzie put a hand over his mouth, which he bit. He chuckled as he watched her pull her hand away. \"You're with Mark Cosmic, what the heck are you telling me to be quiet for?\"\n\nSuzie pointed to a nearby tree. Beside it, a silhouette was standing. Mark couldn't tell if he had his back to them or was looking directly at them. He shuddered. The Gravemaster was creepy enough with his gnarly and withered fingers without his Aura and the silhouette gave this same feeling. Only stronger. \n\n\"Is it the Gravemaster?\" He asked Suzie but his mind knew the answer. It wouldn't have followed them this far out into the city. They both watched the silhouette for a few moments, awaiting any sign of movement. Before long, it started to float towards them. Suzie let out a weak yelp. \"It must be Sam Floats's old man.\" She could feel her head shaking beside his shoulder, disagreeing. \"Mark?\" Suzie, hissed, grabbing his arm. \"Boost me.\"\n\nMark took a big gulp of air and concentrated on Suzie's touch. A boom filled his ears. He looked down and saw his feet leave the ground. Suzie, I love you. Her quick thinking had saved them from a probable horror. A few minutes later, they landed in front of Mark's house. \n\nThe lights in his father's room was off so it meant they were asleep. The only light on was in the Watch House. Ivan is probably binge watching something interestingly boring. They went inside and walked straight for the library. This was their hideout place when they were kids. It was quiet, filled with shelved to hide in, and no one but them stayed in for long. Even now at 22, Mark still enjoyed spending time with Suzie here. \n\nA ringing noise made both of them jump and before their feet touched the ground, they were both behind the library door, listening. Mark's hearing was infinitely better than Suzie's so she gave him more room for his ears. \n\n\"Dad's getting up.\" He described to Suzie.\n\n\"He's going down the stairs. . . talking to Ivan.\"\n\nMark, pushed the door open ever so slowly and he and Suzie peeked out to see his father, Ivan, and a third man in the hall. A third man. \n\n\"Suzie?\" Mark whispered. \"Do you feel that?\" \n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nThe third man. \n\n\"Can you hear what they're saying, Mark?\"\n\n\"Yeah yeah. Wait.\"\n\n\"He wants to stay the night.\"\n\n\"And his name? What's his name, Mark?\"\n\n\"Shh.\"\n\nLeopold Cosmic looked up from the hallway, directly into the two pairs of eyes spying at him. His voice boomed in their ears. \"Mark! Suzie! Come down here and greet out guest!\"\n\nThey sheepishly made their way down the stairs to meet the third man. It's him alright. He's the man from outside the Graveyard.\n\nNow that he was close to the light, Mark could see his face. The man was tall, taller than Mark's father, who had been regarded as one of the tallest men in two centuries. He was old, but not that old, perhaps a good three of four hundred years old. Older than Mark's father, who was two hundred and twenty. His hair was black and neat and its ends rested on his shoulders, dark against the red cloak he wore. The man's eyes were bright and green. Green was a powerful color. He carried nothing but a satchel that bulged on his side. \n\n\"Son, meet Doctor.\"\n\n\"Is he Curtis's grandfather, dad?\"\n\nLeopold Cosmic chuckled. \"No son, Doctor is his first name.\"\n\n\"His name is Doctor Infinite.\"" ]	[ 1, 1, 3, 16 ]	[ "1505051213", "1505184974", "1505064958", "1505055803" ]
	[WP] "Look, even the paranormal society thinks investigating that place is a bad idea. Why is it so important to you anyway?"	181	[ "\nOff-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 don't care.\"\n\n\"But--\"\n\n\"But nothing, Tim! I hunt ghosts like the animals they are, and Arkham Asylum is the most haunted place in America! You do the math, Robin!\"\n\nThe elderly man sank into his wheelchair, defeated.\n\nI sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. \"What I don't get is why you're so afraid. You knew the Batman, for Christ's sake!\"\n\n\"Batman was a stubborn old bastard with a moral clarity this shithole of a city never deserved!\" he snapped.\n\n\"But why don't you want me to go?\"\n\n\"Because the Joker--\"\n\nHe quieted himself.\n\n\"You've heard the rumors, boy.\" Tim whispered. \"The ghost of the Joker himself haunts that place. You don't know the things he did when he was alive.\"\n\nHe shuddered. \"He's too strong.\"\n\nI rose from my seat. \"Then I'll have to be extra careful, I guess.\"\n\nI left the Hospital and slid into my car, staring at the abandoned asylum on the jagged cliff.\n\nI twisted my key and let the engine roar for a moment before I sped off.\n\nI rode past the rotting gates that fell off their hinges long ago. I stopped in front of the building and climbed out.\n\nI took a breath, analyzing the building. The Intensive Treatment Ward was my primary target. The other manias were just drifters, not worth my time.\n\nI kicked open the rusted steel doors and took a look inside. It was a large hallway, leading up to metal detectors.\n\nI smirked. Easy enough.\n\nI went back to my car and popped the trunk. I attached my salt shaker to my belt, slipped on all eight of my iron rings, checked the silver bullets in my pistol, put my flask of holy water in my pocket, and made sure my lighter had plenty of juice left.\n\n\"Showtime...\" I muttered.\n\nI walked in. It was too quiet.\n\nI took a few more steps and jumped when the metal detector went off.\n\nI swore and walked faster, my face burning.\n\nI jumped down a platform and walked past rotting corpses, Joker grins still present on the faces.\n\nIt took all my willpower not to throw up, but I somehow managed.\n\nI walked a bit farther, and heard laughter.\n\nIt was high-pitched and scratchy. It sounded unhinged, like the laughter of a madman.\n\n\"Joker,\" I called in singsong. \"Come out and play...\"\n\n\"I'm happy to, asshat!\"\n\nI spun around to find the source of the voice.\n\nStanding there was a man in a torn purple suit. His skin was pristine white, his hair bright green.\n\n\"So the rumors are true...\"\n\nJoker opened his eyes. They were black.\n\n\"Well, not exactly.\" Joker’s face stretched into a painfully wide grin.\n\n\"Exorcizamus te--\" I began.\n\nI felt a sting as Joker smacked me, sending me flying.\n\n\"None of that, now, Sunny Jim!\"\n\nJoker strode forward, but came to a stop, confused.\n\n\"W-what?!\"\n\nI glanced down and saw the hint of a Devil's Trap just underneath a piece of rubble.\n\nJoker stepped over the rubble, laughing.\n\n\"Ooh! Just kidding! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!\"\n\nJoker rushed forward and kicked me in the ribs. The pain shot through my torso and forced the air from my lungs.\n\nI got up, gasping, and threw a drunken punch. Joker squatted dramatically to dodge and drove a fist directly into my solar plexus.\n\nI went back down and threw up blood, whispering \"Regret, regret, regret!\".\n\nJoker laughed, clearly enjoying himself, and slammed his foot into my back, shifting his weight onto me to keep me down.\n\n\"Batman was one thing, but I never could tolerate you do-gooders...\" he growled.\n\nI carefully slipped my holy water out of my pocket.\n\n\"God is probably expecting a water-related wisecrack right about now, but fuck it.\"\n\nI flung the flask upward, hearing a scream and a sizzle.\n\nI pushed myself back up and faced Joker. His face was still smoking from the holy water. He looked furious.\n\n\"You hunters have made me a very sad clown!\"\n\nJoker rushed me and threw a right hook. I blocked with my forearm and suckerpunched him, the iron branding his face.\n\nJoker screamed in pain and fury. I decided that was my cue to bolt for the graveyard.\n\nI ran through the steel building, ignoring the Joker’s laughter behind me.\n\nI slammed into the doors, pushing them open and waded across the uneven ground of the asylum graveyard.\n\nThey never even bothered burying the coffin. It was nailed shut, though.\n\nI kicked through the rotting wood and poured salt over the inside. I threw the shaker aside and ignited my lighter, nudging the oak with the flame.\n\nThe fire spread immediately, engulfing the remains.\n\nJoker appeared between me and the coffin, screaming.\n\n\"No! No! No, please!\"\n\n\"Gotham won't remember you, Jack. It's all over.\"\n\nJoker dove at me across the fire, a murderous look in his black eyes before his body was consumed by flames.\n\nAshes slapped me in the face, only to be swept away by the wind.\n\nI called the number on my phone marked Grandpa and waited for the phone to be picked up.\n\n\"Alexander...\" an ancient voice with a sharp British accent answered.\n\n\"Grandfather...I've done it.\"\n\n\"Excellent, son. Master Bruce would've been proud that I left Gotham a new defender...\"\n\n\"Yes.\" I watched the flames, bright and beautiful, but also ravenous.\n\n\"The Joker is gone forever.\"", "\nShe answered me with a grin, \nAnd stormed into the house, \nRough was my skin, \nWalked quiet as a mouse. \n\nI had just started traveling with, \nThe girl who never had fear, \nShe always chased new myths, \nMy complaints she'd never hear. \n\nThe girl had a gift, \nTo see and feel ghosts, \nShe always seemed adrift, \nFinding their hosts. \n\nGhosts were magnificent, \nSuch beautiful creatures, \nBut they were anything but innocent, \nYou couldn't tell by their features. \n\nThey'd take someone's being, \nRip it apart, \nOnly guaranteeing, \nLosing what was their heart. \n\nMy job was to kill, \nKeep them away, \nIt was quite a thrill, \nPostponing disarray. \n\nThe paranormal society I thought, \nWas so very flawed, \nHelping only the distraught, \nTo make the public awed. \n\nI helped the few, \nWho couldn't scream for help, \nThose who already knew, \nIt was worthless to yelp. \n\nThough this ghost specifically, \nThe society had given up, \nAnd oh how terrifically, \nShe'd found it closeup. \n\nShe spun around in her dress, \nAnd smiled at me, \nI felt distress, \nAnd the desire to flee. \n\nSomehow she kept going, \nInto the house deeper, \nFear never showing, \nAs stairs became steeper. \n\nHer dress she dusted off, \nSinging some folk song, \nI let out a cough, \nThe place itself seemed wrong. \n\nSoon the host I saw, \nAn elegant pale lady, \nToo late to withdraw, \nAs the walls became shady. \n\nSo I gripped onto my knife, \nHeading towards the ghost, \nI had to end it's life, \nBefore becoming toast. \n\nAnd my companion sat, \nCalmy kicking her feet, \nPetting a cat, \nThat had sat on her feet. \n\nSo quietly I made, \nMy way towards the beast, \nThe ghost crying a cascade, \nAs it's distress increased. \n\nWith one swift slice, \nThe job was done, \nIt seemed too nice, \nDidn't have to be overdone. \n\nI shrugged my shoulders, \nIt had been easier than I thought, \nSuddenly my feet felt like boulders, \nAnd my companion seemed distraught. \n\nI wondered who, \nThe host could've been, \nTo give a ghost such debut, \nMust've had hatred within. \n\nMy companion looked bored, \nAnd calmly walked towards it, \nMe she ignored, \nThe ghost seemed to quit. \n\nTook the girl in its arm, \nand soon my companion fell down, \nIt had meant no harm, \nJust wanted her around. \n\nLeaving the hosts alive, \nThe two spirits left, \nLetting the hosts survive, \nTheir hearts from theft. \n\nMy old companion stared, \nI took her hand, \nFor the first time she was scared, \nFrom the experience firsthand. \n\nThe girl wasn't gifted, \nA ghost she had been, \nAway I shifted, \nWith a small grin. \n\nThe ghosts who gave most terror, \nHad meant absolutely no harm, \nThe society made an error, \nIn seeing their charm. \n\n", "#M1/L4687\n\nA wild soul, I had always fancied traveling. Even as a little child I remember drawing up plans to traverse all of Europe on my bicycle. But it wasn't my passion that found me twisting Nand's arms, the club secretary, for a visa to a country that was torn apart by a civil war. \n\n\"Look, even the paranormal society thinks investigating that place is a bad idea. Why is it so important to you anyway?\" she said twisting her eyebrows as much as she could. \n\n\"I understand that I just joined the society but I really want to go check this place out. So what if it's a little unstable of an area right now?\"\n\nShe stared at me like the idiot I probably was. The reflections from the tinted windows covered the length of the long Hall. The paranormal society of the NorthEastern School wasn't by any means a big organization; just filled with enough rich students at a private school to get a big ass hall and some rooms for an HQ. That and the name had enough recognition locally that I figured it'd get me a visa to Umberiz. \n\n\"Umberiz is in the middle of a bloody civil war with no end in sight. But even there the locals are more scared of this abandoned village than the rebels or the militia. For all we know its just a bunch of smugglers holding up in there, killing anyone who investigates the place\" she murmured as she signed the letter stating I'd be representing the club's research activities. \n\n\"I won't forget what you're doing for me, and I'll be careful. I promise\" I said as I rushed out, eager to get the papers in and get my journey started.\n\nAnd careful I was. I got my story straight and I made sure to pre-book the hotel I was staying at and even got a local guide to help me out. All that was left was to pick up the documents from the club HQ and then off I go. \n\nBut when I returned later in the evening, the club door was locked. Weird. I knocked twice more and then decided to sneak in through the back window. And when I got in, I couldn't believe my eyes - Nandi was lying there in the middle of the hall in a pool of her own blood. \n\n\"It was a shame really. This time around the girl decided to stick around longer\" a deep voice growled from behind the shadows. \n\nAnd as I turned and looked, a silhouette emerged out of the shadows - a figure made up of smoke for all I could tell.\n\n\"What the..\" I let what little air I had left in my lungs. Overwhelmed with everything that was going on I couldn't even move my legs.\n\n\"Don't forget to breathe. You did that last time\" the voice said, now in a calm tone. \n\nIt was right, I might've passed out if I held my lungs any longer.\n\n\"What do you mean last time?\"\n\n\"Ah, the rational question first. Ofcourse. By last time, I meant your life #4686\" it replied.\n\n\"My life what\" I repeated in total confusion.\n\n\"Your life number 4686. You see I sort of trapped you in a time loop, waiting for you to repeat the events of today in ever so slightly different patterns. And in one of those patterns would you realize how silly your idea to just go to a remote dangerous country was\" the smoky silhouette nodded its head as though it was done explaining.\n\n\"I still don't get it\" I stared at it, the reality of the situation slowly creeping up on me. Nandi was dead and I was talking to a supernatural murder. \n\n\"It's simple really boy. I'm going to keep killing you and resetting your life back to this day until you give up your search\" it said in an unwavering tone of authority. \n\n\"And what exactly are you?\"\n\n\"For the love of all of creation, it is precisely that question I want you to do away with\" it gestured at the chairs set up in the middle of the room.\n\n\"Let us have a seat, shall we? I think this matter deserves a bit of mannered sit down\" it said waving its hand and somehow pulling me into the seat in the blink of an eye. \n\n\"I'm really powerful. I'm more powerful than you could ever truly understand with that human brain of yours. But I have a slight problem you see, I cannot kill innocents. It's just not who I am. And you don't seem to waver even a little bit in your curiosity each time I reset your reality. In fact your soul grows ever more uncontrollably drawn to your pursuit. This is weird for a number of reasons, it's just not the way things are supposed to happen. Souls don't work in that way\" the silhouette's voice echoed throughout the hall. \n\n\"So why are you talking to me now?\" I asked, still too terrified to move. But I put on a good voice, I didn't want it to know I was scared. I swear I could feel the smirk on its face, perhaps having seen straight through me. \n\n\"I have a proposition. Instead of waiting for a version of you that would give up, I decided that we could both benefit in a different fashion. If you give up your search, I will reset your life back to this morning and leave you alone. You'll retain your memories of tonight's events of course. Sound fair?\" It asked pointing its hand towards me.\n\n\"Sounds like neither of us has any other option, does it?\" I said, producing a very nervous laughter. \n\n\"The invisible threads of fate are always around your neck. I suppose from this moment both of us will be painfully aware of the other's existence without doing much about it.\"\n\n\"I suppose s...\"\n\nIt flicked its finger before I could finish my sentence and snap went my neck. \n\n#M2/L4688\n\nI woke up from my bed drenched in sweat. For the first time in my life, I had gotten up before my alarm. As I got up and walked to the bathroom I tried to process everything that had happened. As I brushed my teeth, I started wondering what it could've been that I saw in my dream. I mean that was a dream right. So I did what I always do - turn to google.\n\nBut just as I opened my laptop I heard a familiar voice from under my bed. \n\n\"Some monkeys need so much time to learn a single trick\" it said, the voice getting closer with each well-enunciated word. I reached out to grab whatever invisible thing was in front of me but my hands just grabbed air. \n\nsound of neck snapping\n\n#M3/L4687\nI fell off my bed, gasping for air. But even before the terror set in I could see the insanity in me growing.\n\n\"WHAT ARE YOU\" I shouted from the floor of my bedroom. \n\n---\n\nI have a few ideas about further direction and might end up writing more if people are interested. Thanks for reading!", "\"Fuck the Paranormal Society.\" \n\nI could almost hear Tasha rolling her eyes behind me. \"They don't want you to die, Jason. That's all.\" \n\n\"I know, Tash, I know.\" I sit down hard on the leather chair. Tasha pulls a stopper from a crystal decanter, and I smell the sharp, sweet, gorgeous, smell of expensive brandy. \nShe hands me a glass, vines of frost forming on the outside as she holds it, and I breathe deep before taking a slow pull. \"Fuck me. That's good. I love knowing rich people.\" I lean back and let the smells of old leather, good pipe tobacco, and wood calm my nerves. \"Thank you, for that.\"\n\n\"No worries, kid. So, spill it. Why are you so hell bent on exploring the Voregal House?\" She sits next to me, her chair just out of reach, but close enough I can smell her perfume. It mingles pleasantly with the rest of her study. \n\nI take a moment to look her over, wondering for the hundredth time who, and what, she really is. Her eyes are icy blue, and her pupils seem to drink in the light in a striking, somewhat unsettling contrast. Her irises are too large, take up too much of her almond shaped eyes. A casual observer would think she was simply a very fit, gorgeous, Chinese woman in her early thirties, but my eyes are trained for this. \n\nTHE REST LATER GOTTA GO TO WORK", "\"Look, even the paranormal society thinks that investigating that place is a bad idea. Why is it so important to you anyway?\"\n\n\"Because I can't remember what it looks like.\"\n\n\"Huh? That makes no sense, it's right there in the pictures.\"\n\n\"No, the inside. I used to dream about the place. Every morning I would wake up and remember things that happened inside that house. I knew every inch of it. For years I dreamed of it, no matter how far fetched, it always took place inside that house. Sometimes there would be changes based on the dream, once their was a river flowing out from the basement, for example, and another time it had no roof and we were flying kites, but aside from those types of things every single wall outlet and light switch was always in the same place. Then one day it stopped. It was gone. Not just the dreams, but my memories of those dreams too. I knew I used to dream of a house, but I couldn't remember anything about it. I just assumed in was my childhood house; after all, why would I be dreaming of a house I'd never been to?\"\n\n\"So... you want to go to a dangerous place because you used to dream about it?\"\n\n\"It's not just that. And I didn't just dream about it, I dreamed about it every night for years. That's not just a coincidence. But then the memories were gone. I had forgotten the dreams, I had forgotten the house, all at once. It happened when I was around 11 years old. And then I saw the house in the news, I remembered everything. I come to find out it's in Russia of all places! I've never seen it in person. I dreamed about a house I'd never seen or been to for years, and then it turns up in the news in a story about Russian paranormal activity. As soon as I saw the story I remembered the house. I remembered the dreams. It all came back. There were even changes in the house over years, one time a rose bush appeared in the back yard, another time there was a crack in the bathroom ceiling. These changes stayed, my dreams of this house changed as the house must of changed. Maybe I changed the house by dreaming about it. I don't know. All I know is I need to go back there.\"\n\n\"That sounds like the exact reason not to go back there. This shit is creepy. Assuming you aren't just bullshitting me-and if you are I'm going to pay you back in ways that take longer to plan than simple threats can express-then you're saying that this house is evil. It almost sounds like.. in Russia, house haunts you.\"", "\"It's none of your... I'm sorry. I'm just... Look, do you owe me one or not?\"\n\nI sighed as I looked up at her. Grey circles stretched under her bloodshot eyes . Her face and arms were covered in small scratches, her once bright green T-shirt now ragged, torn, and an oily grey, her pants covered in dried. At least the quiver full of arrows and bow slung across her back looked to be in good condition.\n\n\"Can we at least wait a few days? You're in no shape-\"\n\n\"No.\" \n\nI sighed. \"So. To summarize. You're half-dead, armed with nothing but a bow, planning to storm a cursed house that everyone from the most powerful witches in these woods to the greediest reality TV shows won't come within twenty miles of.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Why me?! I'm a failed sorcerer who doesn't even remember half the spells he failed to-\"\n\n\"Because you're trustworthy, have an incredible talent for spell-casting and teaching, were the first to kill a demon in four hundred years, and because I saved your life. Twice. Look, I'm going. You can come with me or you can live with the guilt of sending me to my death.\"\n\nShe spun around and strolled out, closing the door with her foot. What an exit. I looked around my cramped room. A work computer, a neat pile of tax forms, my freshly folded and pressed suit, a briefcase, a new bag of ballpoint pens... but that was work stuff. Real life stuff. Most of the space was taken up by what could have been: shelves filled with old spellbooks and scrolls, dusty statuettes, a cracked crystal ball, my old staff, and in the one sunlit corner of the room, a letter of gratitude from Archmage Cerrunnos himself, a shiny golden medal, a certificate certifying my knighthood, and a photo of all of us heroes. The Saviors of England. Leo, Quinn, Aélia, Chris (me), and Rachel. \n\nAh, Rachel. The girl I had a crush on my first year at the university. The girl that tried to raise a dragon and was somehow not expelled for it. The girl that almost got us killed exploring the tunnels underneath the old Alchemy. The girl that saved my life. Twice. The girl that just dramatically delivered an ultimatum. The girl that wanted me to go with her to a mysteriously cursed house on a Sunday night.\n\nWith one final sigh, I stood up and started packing.\n\n**\n\nThe Uber driver warned me repeatedly not to go. I managed to leave my apartment without alerting anyone, somehow didn't get nagged at by my mom about this endeavor (I told her just in case), and then the Uber driver got on my case. As if I needed enough temptation to get the hell out of dodge.\n\nInstead, I politely smiled my way through her warnings and explained that yes, I would be fine. She dropped me off at the house's driveway with one final, \"Well, if you're sure...\" and floored out of there down the gravel road. I don't even know why she was so scared. Sure, the gate said \"Enter and Die\" and then the wooden fence stretching out for miles around the property had skulls on each fencepost and the woods were filled with dead trees and the sky was ominously cloudy and the house looked like it be the dictionary entry for a haunted house. But other than that, this place wasn't so bad.\n\nI swung the gate upon - of course* there was an overly loud creaak - and began my trek down the driveway. Crows (or ravens? who cares) fluttered between the trees above me, cawing furiously. I wonder what they were shouting.\n\n\"Caw caw! What a loser! Those jeans went out of style a century ago!\"\n\n\"CAW! What is that staff? Does he think he's a wizard? How embarrassing!\"\n\n\"Caw caw caw! What's in that purse? Tissues to stop his crying when he gets scared? Caw!\"\n\nActually there was bottled water and all the artifacts that still seemed to be working in the bag (not purse). And the jeans and jacket were for functionality, not style. Idiots.\n\nYup. I just had an imaginary conversation with some crows. \n\nLuckily, that was the only interesting event during the five minutes walk. Maybe the house wasn't cursed at all! It sprawled over me, horribly massive, windows either boarded up or too dusty to see through, stone gargoyles bulging their eyes out at me, railings sticking out from every balcony and edge. Nothing moved. The crows had completely stopped cawing. The silence was eerie. \n\nI feverishly went over every possibility. Wraiths - I could banish them and had moon dust in my bag. Undead - I could conjure fire to keep them at bay. Banshees - I could protect myself as well. Goblins - I was just wasting time. Rachel was probably already in there and here I was, trying to work up the courage to just walk up these steps - see, that wasn't so bad - and pound on this knocker - the booms echoed around the house - and wait.\n\nMy heart may or may not have been going at two hundred miles per hour. \n\nThe doors swung open. I looked inside... and froze.\n\nNot due to fear, but due to making eye contact with a pair of brilliant blue eyes across the room. A pair of icy eyes that glowed like a twin pair of moons, that sent my staff clattering to the ground, that felt like they were digging into my soul... that belonged to a dragon.\n\nA dragon, living in a house.\n\nWell, that explained why no one came here.\n\n\"Hello, Chris\" a voice whispered inside my head, everywhere and nowhere, deafeningly loud and menacingly quiet.\n\n\"Hello,\" I mechanically replied, my voice small and terrified. My consciousness folded itself into a corner of my brain, relinquishing all control of my body. It was a fascinating feeling, but also terrifying. Luckily, I couldn't scream like a little girl even though I really wanted to.\n\n\"Do you know who this young lady is?\"\n\nMy head turned to look at a girl standing fifteen or so feet ahead of me, trembling like a reed caught in the wind, fists clenched, bow, arrows, and quiver slung over her back, before my gaze snapped back to the dragon's eyes.\n\n\"Rachel,\" I replied.\n\n\"Oh? And she wants?\"\n\n\"No idea. She asked me to come.\"\n\n\"Hmm. And of course she is able to resist -\"\n\nI blinked. I looked around. What just -?\n\nI could move again.\n\nI hurriedly picked up my staff, keeping my head down, and ran to Rachel who had fallen to her knees. \"What is going on?\" I whispered furiously, not daring to look up. \"Did you know there was going to be a dragon?\" \n\nShe was covered in sweat, her eyes somehow even more bloodshot than before. But even though she looked like she was gonna pass out she was smiling.\n\n\"I wasn't sure, but I had my suspicions. It's safe to look, by the way.\"\n\nI glanced up, raising my staff in anticipation. She was staring up above us, shrunk back, wings tucked behind her dark blue body, claws nervously scratching up the tiled floor.\n\n\"What could scare a dragon so badly?\" I asked nervously. Then my eyes widened in realization as I spun towards Rachel. \"You... you didn't...\" \n\n\"I did.\"\n\n\"You... Everyone told you it was a bad idea, you know how dangerous they are, it's one of the most illegal-\"\n\nA loud woosh stopped me from finishing my sentence as a second dragon swooped into the hall, a bloody stag clutched in his mouth. He spun over us with an elaborate twirl and fluttered down before the house's owner, dropping the stag with a loud thump.\n\nOh gods. \"What breed?\" I asked.\n\n\"Royal dragon.\" Oh gods. The most powerful by far. \"Three weeks old.\"\n\nEven with my limited knowledge of dragons he looked like a baby. Short, stubby legs, barely grown wings, brown scaleless skin, tiny horns and claws... Not at all like what a royal dragon looked like.\n\n\"When does he-\"\n\n\"Two months after birth. They shed their skin, triple in size, and gain all their powers.\"\n\nThe two dragons began talking softly.\n\n\"Why am I here?\"\n\n\"To introduce yourself. I can't raise him alone.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because when he awakens he's going to see me and realize that I'm not useful and kill me.\"\n\n\"... So-\"\n\n\"Because if I'm his link to you - a powerful sorcerer who can teach him magic - and if you're a link to whoever else you can find in around a month - then maybe we'll be allies worthy of keeping alive.\"\n\n\"So you want me to find people stupid enough to want to train a royal dragon, keeping all of this secret from the government who will torture and kill me without a second thought about this, just so I can present myself in front of him and maybe not die?\"\n\n\"No, so you can be allies with the first royal dragon born in millennia, so you can be by the side of the one of the most powerful creatures in the world, so you can help me do anything and everything either of us could want. With a royal dragon by our side, we would be unstoppable.\"\n\nI started off towards the front door. I couldn't believe she would have the audacity to -\n\n\"He knows who you are now, you know that? He knows your smell and what you look like. He'll find you.\"\n\nI whipped around, aghast, \"You trick me into coming here and now you're threatening me?\"\n\n\"I doing what I have to to survive! I will die if I don't find enough allies! But I genuinely believe you can help me, I wouldn't involve you if I thought it would just get you killed!\"\n\nI threw my hands up, exasperated. Why couldn't she have explained this before...\n\n\"You could have also just not gotten a royal dragon egg!\"\n\n\"I don't give up on my dreams.\"\n\nOuch. I had half a mind to just blow her to smithereens right then and there - my anger stirred up a dozen half-forgotten spells that would do just fine - but if she was telling the truth and she always did then now I needed her just as much as she needed me. So I was in, one way or another.\n\nIn that case, no point in remaining mad.\n\nYeah, somehow that didn't really calm me down.\n\nI plodded back over to her, gritting my teeth. \"Where did you even get the egg?\"\n\n\"The Royal Pyramids in Egypt. Yeah, I know, it was-\"\n\nShe stopped herself, spinning around. I gulped. The dragon was finally coming towards us, sniffing the air curiously, tail slowly whipping back and forth behind its back, tongue flicking out to taste the air. It was time to introduce myself to my potential killer. Thanks Rachel." ]	[ 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 38 ]	[ "1505056487", "1505089626", "1505090879", "1505084974", "1505061649", "1505084919", "1505068923" ]
	[WP] You're in extreme danger, but no one can say from whom or what...	2	[ "\nOff-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", "Mr. Ollivander: Curious... very curious...\n\nHarry: Sorry, but what's curious?\n\nMr. Ollivander: I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tailfeather resides in your wand gave another feather... just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar.\n\nHarry: And who owned that wand?\n\nMr. Ollivander: We do not speak his name! The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. It's not always clear why. But I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible! Yes. But great." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1505083484", "1505084732" ]
	[WP] You, an up-and-coming super hero, are less than pleased with the super hero name the press has given you...	15	[ "\nOff-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 year since I first got my powers, and it seems like I've barely made any progress. I've saved numerous people, saved many a cat from many a tree, stopped several villains, but this, this has to be the worst yet.\n\nI scrunch the newspaper up and chuck in into the fireplace. I watch as it burns away, the last thing I see before it vanishes is a photo of me on a rooftop with a tagline below it.\n\nKlepto Girl cleans up the streets before scuttling back to her lair\n\nI mean seriously? Of all the possible names out there for me, that's the one they went with. I mean not only does it paint me as a villain, already, but its not exactly intimidating is it? What about Void, or Bandit, or Hijacker, or even just Thief for god's sake. \n\nI sighed, at least the picture had looked good.\n\nIt had been from my last big fight. I had turned up as one of the local gangs had decided they wanted a say in who owned this area of the city. Unfortunately without anyone with powers to help, they pretty much could do whatever they wanted. So I had stepped in.\n\nIt wasn't easy. I had prevailed, but only barely. And if I was honest with myself that was more luck than any real skill. But I had done it, and I thought it would be enough to get a name for myself, be respected. Maybe even get an offer from one of the fancy superhero teams in one of the big cities. Nothing, just stupid names from the very same people I had tried to help.\n\nI decided to go out and scout around. Try and take my mind off things.\n\"It's just a name Rachel!\" I told myself \"Who cares what they said? You'll announce the real name you want to take and no one will even remember this.\" Deep down I didn't really believe what I was saying, logically I knew it wouldn't matter, but I still felt embarrassed and angry. I shook my head softly, and leapt forward off the roof.\n\nA few minutes later I reached the centre of town. I looked around at all the people milling about in the street. Rushing between shops and restaurants and back again. No sign of any powers. Until there was. A slim woman, walking quickly along the street. My power buzzed upon seeing her. She wore a black coat with the collar turned up against the rain. I watched curiously, but as of yet she gave me little reason to be suspicious that she had bad intentions. I followed from the rooftops as she turned off the main street, and strode quickly down a darker side street. I watched as she met a man wearing a blood red robe and a mask that resembled a praying mantis, but completely black. I hissed as I saw the mask. \"Shit\" I whispered to myself \"What the hell is Semblance doing here, he was in prison as of a week ago!\" He and the woman talked for a while, before both turning and heading towards the town hall. \"They must be after the Mayor!\" I said to myself. I followed, careful to keep my distance.\n\nThere were no buildings close enough to the town hall to jump from, so I backtracked and made my way down to the ground. Before leaving the shadows I donned my outfit. It consisted of black trousers and a black t shirt, and my mask was slate grey with two sapphire coloured slits hiding lenses for my eyes. I finished off the costume with a black coat, with a photo realistic depiction of a black hole on the back. A little over the top perhaps, but I allowed myself this one bit of indulgence.\n\nI crept up to the town hall, keeping a watchful eye out for either Semblance or the woman that had met him. Seeing no one, I slipped over the fence, and ran for the building. I cracked open a window, and hopped inside. I paused. Was this really a good idea? I'm working with unknowns here, I never do that. \"Okay, think Rachel, what do we know?\" I said to myself, trying to calm my nerves as much as anything. \"I know that the woman I saw has some sort of perception altering ability, but that's all my power can tell me. I know all about Semblances' power, but somehow I don't think that'll help me much.\" I snorted. Semblance almost single handedly made my power useless. You see, he projected an image onto the world, the image of him in his red robe with his mantis mask, but that wasn't the real him. Oh no, the real him shifted constantly between realities, between times, seeming more godlike than human. And because of this my power didn't know how to target him, couldn't target him. And good luck getting close enough for any enhanced agility to make a difference. \"Fuck\" I said simply, and strode forward down the corridor.\n\nVery soon I started hearing voices, I followed them, and quickly came to a large room with several people in. I peered in from the shadows, trying to see what I was up against. I could see several bodies slumped in the corners, the Mayor's protection no doubt, and I could see the Mayor tied to a chair in the centre of the room.\n\nIn front of him stood Semblance and the woman I had seen earlier.\n\nSemblance delivered a swift punch to the Mayor's temple before speaking. \"Don't fight us Mayor. We will take this city with or without your permission. You have a chance hear to ensure you live to see it.\"\nThe woman slowly turned her head around and looked straight towards me. \"Semblance\" she said calmly.\n\"What is it Aspect?\"\n\"Our friend has returned\"\nI froze as he looked over as well, hardly daring to breathe.\n\"You may as well come out you know, Aspect here can see you quite clearly.\"\nHesitantly, I edged out into the room. Upon seeing me, the Mayor looked confused. Clearly he was trying to work out who I was, no doubt hoping I was a hero, here to save him. Unfortunately I was getting less and less confident about winning by the second, not that I was ever really confident to begin with. Semblance looked me over, and seemed almost happy in his body language. \n\"Ahah! If it isn't the new hero on the scene, what was it they called you? Klepto Girl? Not very dignified if you ask me. You should try being a villain! You tend to get gifted names with a bit more presence.\"\nI looked at him, \"I actually go by Singularity, if you don't mind.\"\nHe nodded, and looked towards the Mayor. \"You see dear Mayor, that right there is someone who knows how to pick a name! Someone who appreciates some gravitas, who understands image, respect.\" He looked back to me. \"Someone we could have good use of, if that person was willing.\"\n\"No\" I said quickly.\n\"Of course\" he said, speaking as if I had not said anything. \"If that person was not willing, we would be forced to remove that person, as they had now become an obstacle.\" He looked at the woman. \"We don't like obstacles do we Aspect?\"\n\"No we do not\" she said, never taking her eyes off me.\n\"Exactly! We do not, so I will ask you again Singularity, and once more only.\" He paused. \"Join us, or join those we have left in piles in the corner.\"\nI clenched my jaw and tried to stop my voice from shaking as I spoke. \"I told you no, and I mean't no! Now, let's get this over with.\"\n\nAs soon as I finished speaking a knife thin tendril appeared from nowhere and dragged me off my feet, before hurling me into the wall. I sat up and focused my power on Aspect, at least I knew I could affect her. But something was wrong. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it with my power. Semblance was shielding his partner. I couldn't touch her. I lept up and sprinted towards Aspect, hoping to do something even if I couldn't use my power. Maybe my increased agility would count for something.\n\nI got halfway there before the tendril appeared from thin air again and knocked me out of the window...\n\nSemblance turned back to the Mayor. \"Well now, our guest is all taken care of, what do you say we get back to business? You'll give us the city, publicly, and announce your support for us. Or, we'll kill you.\" He smiled, \"after we deal with your family of course!\" The mayor stared back at him, and said nothing. \"Very well then!\" Semblance said cheerfully, as a tendril reared back to strike the Mayor. In the same instant, Aspect cocked her head and began to call for Semblance...\n\nJust as I wrapped an arm around her neck. I held on tight as she bucked and writhed. I set my power loose on her, feeling her become lethargic as I took in her ability. My perceptions swelled, and now I could see Semblance in his full glory. See all of him, an all realities. She had ceased struggling, but I continued holding Aspect in front of me as a human shield. Semblance gazed at me.\n\"It looks like I have the upper hand now.\" I said, sounding braver than I felt.\n\"Does it now?\" He said chuckling. \"So you think you can defeat me then, now that you have stolen Aspect's power from her?\"\n\"I figure it can't have hurt my chances\"\nHe laughed, and I saw him tense slightly.\nI ducked as Aspects head was hacked clean off by one of the tendrils. Her body slumping to the floor. I stood slowly. Well, I thought to myself, looks like my enhanced agility, and her enhanced perception really work a treat together. I looked up at Semblance.\n\"Look's like you do not have an advantage any more, my friend.\" He said, still chuckling.\nI paused, I could still see him. The entirety of him. I smiled. I had kept her power. Her death must have cemented the stolen power as mine.\n\"Actually my friend, now I have an even greater advantage\"\nI unleashed my power, combined with Aspect's it can see Semblance now, as clearly as I can, he begins to slow, his ethereal form shrinks as mine grows. I look down, and lash out him with the tendrils. \n\nI look up again. Semblance is securely fastened to the wall by the tendrils. \"You're lucky that I'm not like you Semblance.\" I said softly. I lashed out with the tendrils and freed the Mayor from the ropes binding him to the chair. He stood up shakily and made his way towards me.\n\"Thank you!\" He said. \"Thank you so much, I didn't expect anyone to be able to take on these two and win, how can I repay you?\"\nI looked at him and paused, before saying, \"Mayor, we really need to talk about this whole name thing...\"" ]	[ 1, 10 ]	[ "1505083699", "1505095753" ]
[removed]	[WP] Hearing	1	[ "\nOff-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. You can add more in the text, but avoid [too many details](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/prompts?src=RECIPE). You wrote a prompt in the text, but then gave a title for it. \n\n\n\n---\n\nPlease refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us a [modmail.](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6zc00x/wp_hearing/%0A%0A)\n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1505089543", "1505089570" ]

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